A/N: More fluffy updates.

Brennan's POV

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

As a potential perpetrator of the perfect murder, I should've thought about flushing out the lie I told to Booth. He was a trained investigator; of course he'd eventually notice my hands were uninjured. I should've cut my hand on the glass as soon as I got home from the psychiatric hospital.

For one irrational moment I considered cutting my foot in the airplane bathroom. I judged this to be an irrational response for several reasons:

1) Airplane bathrooms are notorious for limiting range of motion and it would be difficult, if not impossible, to reach my foot.

2) Airplane security is notorious for removing sharp implements from the reach of passengers (not that their efforts had stopped me from bringing an ancient Mongolian halberd in my carryon luggage before – as a delicate artifact, of course).

3) Cutting my foot would mean walking with a painful injury for the rest of the day, and Booth would no doubt notice the change in my gait.

I settled into my seat, satisfied that I'd at least be protected from Booth for the duration of the flight, as he was in coach and I was in first class. I had upgraded my ticket, of course.

I didn't expect Angela to settle into the seat across the aisle. Dr. Hodgins maneuvered their luggage into the overhead compartment while Angela started unwrapping her scarf.

"I didn't expect to have company in first class," I said.

Angela smiled. "You should try not to make that sound like a bad thing, sweetie."

"No, all I meant was usually I'm alone in first class while Booth rides in coach."

Angela smirked. "Well, there's got to be some perks to being a trophy wife – isn't that right, honey?"

Dr. Hodgins laughed as he hammered Angela's suitcase the rest of the way in. "Damn straight." Then he leaned over, clasped her face in his hands, and kissed her.

My throat constricted and I felt that inexplicable ache below my sternum.

"You're implying that you are a young and attractive status symbol for Dr. Hodgins, who in turn has only earned your affections because of his prodigious capital," I babbled. He kissed her again. "When in fact your partnership is based on parity in physical attractiveness, intellect, and life goals." I trailed off, focused on the glow in Angela's cheeks – pregnancy hormones, I told myself.

Hodgins finally withdrew and sidled into the window seat next to Angela.

She was still smiling when she turned to me. "You've got one thing wrong. I am absolutely an attractive status symbol."

I laughed despite myself. I had missed Angela over the past few days. Most likely her mental and physical preoccupations with her pregnancy has kept her from checking on me at the lab, I told myself.

The flight attendant prepared us for take-off. I leaned back and closed my eyes as the engines rumbled. I wonder if someone will be murdered on this flight, I mused. A statistical improbability, for sure, but I'd be improperly applying the law of averages to assert that it was any less likely to happen this time because of past experience.

But my favorite memories from that flight weren't from solving the murder. My favorite memories were from the flight back, when I was giddy on champagne and Booth and I argued over who talked who into our partnership.

"Angela," I started, eyes still closed, "if someone asked you take off your glasses, shake out your hair, and inquire as to the fine for an overdue library book, how would you respond?"

"It depends on who's asking," she giggled.

"What if it was a guy you liked?" I whispered. "You know, liked-liked – as you would say."

"Hell, I'd do it." I heard her flip the page of a magazine. "I'd do it and then spank them with a ruler, too, if they wanted."

"What?" I demanded, bolting upright.

"Wow, they really do have all the fun in first class," Booth suddenly said.

"Booth!" I objected, but he was already taking the empty seat next to me. I gave Angela a panicked look. She furrowed her brows at me in disbelief. "Booth asked?" she mouthed. I grimaced and shook my head once, fast.

"What's wrong, Bones?" Booth asked, observing the end of my tacit communication with Angela.

"Uh, you shouldn't be in first class, Booth," I said. "The flight attendant will be returning any moment with your complimentary serving of peanuts."

He was reclining his seat. "Aw, just give it a minute, Bones. I'll get up when they come back and say I was looking for the bathroom."

"You should go start a conversation with Dr. Edison," I said. "You know his evidence was key in my father's acquittal."

"Yeah, I was there, Bones," Booth said. "Why did you invite Clark anyway? Isn't spending a weekend with us like his worst nightmare?"

I sighed. I had invited Dr. Edison because I decided this excursion was the perfect opportunity to begin his integration with the forensics team – and especially Agent Booth. Although Mr. Wendell Bray got along better with Booth, Dr. Edison was far more qualified to fill my position when I left the Jeffersonian.

"Dr. Edison isn't just any intern, Booth. He is the most qualified forensic anthropologist of the Jeffersonian interns and thus deserves to join his peers. Unless this conference isn't really as edifying as you made it out to be."

Just then a flight attendant emerged from behind a curtain. Booth hopped out of the seat. I automatically grabbed the in-flight magazine.

Then Booth was whispering in my ear again. "Save me your peanuts if you don't want them."

Now I had to contend with Angela.

"Booth asked you to do that?" she hissed as soon as the peanut-dispensing flight attendant disappeared.

"Don't be ridiculous, Angela," I laughed, pretending to focus on the magazine. "I just thought your turn in the conversation would embarrass Agent Booth."

"Huh. Right," she said, opening her own magazine again. She was silent for a minute. I tried to focus on the article in front of me, but couldn't seem to get past the first sentence. Then, "You know that's mean, right? Teasing me with something like that? Now I'm all hot and bothered thinking about the two of you spanking–"

"Jeez, is that stuff all you guys talk about?" Booth interrupted.

I could feel my eyes reflexively widen, and from the smirk on Angela's face, she saw it.

"Thanks for the peanuts," Booth said, snitching my packet from the armrest.

"You're welcome," I snapped. I didn't want the peanuts, now, anyway. I turned the page in the magazine, hoping the next article would capture my attention. I should've brought a book, but I had been planning to write some of my novel during the flight. There was no way I was opening that in front of Angela and Booth.

And now if Booth left, Angela would pester me about the librarian incident – which was evidently some sort of sexual innuendo.

"So, Booth, Hannah must not have been pleased about your sudden business trip," I offered.

Booth shifted in his seat and popped a few peanuts into his mouth. "She's a big girl," he said. "Besides, she said she needed to catch up on some stories she's working on."

"Still corruption among police officers?" I inquired.

He frowned. "No, she told me she'd lay off that until I had some time to work with her."

"You know if I was Hannah I'd seize the opportunity of your absence and immediately return to my more dangerous inquiries," I said. I was only being honest.

Booth was silent for a moment. Then he popped out of his seat and strode back towards coach.

"Booth, I'm sure she's…" But he was already gone.

"So," Angela began. I dug in my purse for my iPod. "Booth has a thing for sexy librarians?"

"I'm putting my headphones on, Angela," I said.

She frowned and settled back into her seat. "Don't think I'll forget this," she threatened.

I pretended I didn't hear her.