This chapter did not come together quickly, as I'm sure you noticed. And this chapter is also longer than the others, mostly because there was A LOT that needed to happen to move us along. And even then, I had to split it up.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and super huge thanks to my reviewers. Keep up the awesome, don't forget to tell me if this chapter sucks or still needs work, I can take it.
Song: Erase and Rewind; The Cardigans
And no. I still don't own the show or the characters.
Temperance Brennan sat in the passenger seat of the '63 VW bus, momentarily alone as Angela went into Genesis Art Supply to purchase her canvases.
Closing her eyes Brennan leaned her head back, feeling the cool autumn breeze through the open windows. She listened to the sounds of the birds in the trees above, the cars passing by and the people on the street; letting the noisy music of the city blur together, blinding and white, as she attempted to piece together the unexpected path the morning had taken. Everything was fixed in her mind, perfect and rational. Right up until the door opened to reveal Seeley Booth. All events after that she recalled as blurry and unreal, as though from a dream or a distant memory, not something that had happened only minutes before. Brennan pushed her hands over her eyes, as though she could rub the morning out of them and start over.
From the right, Brennan could hear the scuffing sound of Angela's shoes on the pavement, her voice growing louder as she approached the bus; directing people to put the canvases in the back of the vehicle, to be careful, not to do something or other. Brennan felt the bus shake as Angela slammed the back closed. She kept her eyes shut as Angela got into the bus, silently hoping that Angela would believe her to be asleep. The bus started and soon Brennan felt the familiar rumble of the freeway under the vehicle.
Angela was mercifully silent for a few more minutes before, "I know you're not asleep Bren."
"Can we pretend that I am asleep?" Brennan sighed.
Angela snorted, "No." there was a pause, "What's up?"
Brennan knew what Angela was asking, and part of her wanted to be pedantic, but she found that she did not have the requisite energy to deal with Angela's response to her literalism. Instead she merely responded to Angela's implied question, "It has been an eventful and difficult morning. I am attempting to recover."
"Recover? From the hospital?"
"Yes. And from our excursion to Booth's home."
"How does our trip to Booth's house to get your purse and phone qualify as an excursion?
"The whole event was unanticipated, unplanned and ridiculous." Brennan paused, but Angela remained silent and waited for her to continue, "Finding my purse at the same house where the party was held, and that purse being returned by the person who took me to the hospital last night is, while unlikely, a series of logical events that I would have been able to see coming from five kilometers away had I not been so distracted this morning by the change in my surroundings."
"It's a mile away sweetie."
"What's a mile away?"
"You know what? Never mind!" Angela was silent for a moment before continuing, "So why does the lack of planning this morning have you all worked up?"
Brennan shifted and sighed, "I was unprepared."
"For what?"
"For interacting with people that I am unfamiliar with."
Angela took a moment, processing Brennan's statement.
Is it too much to hope she does not press further?
"So what you're saying is . . ."
Yes. That is apparently too much to hope for.
" . . . you needed to 'prepare' before meeting Booth."
"I would have liked to, yes."
"Why?"
"I am not the person he was anticipating meeting based on the events of last night and I would have liked to have been mentally prepared for the interaction."
"Honey, no amount of mental preparation could have helped with that. Trust me."
You know she's right.
Brennan quashed the voice, but it was too late, and she knew it was the truth.
"So, did I lie about him being hot?" Angela continued.
"While I am not entirely certain what the parameters are for being a "Sex God" I feel confident in my agreement with you that, yes; Seeley Booth is as you say it, 'hot'."
"Uh huh. So would you 'be in agreement' if I say you find him attractive?"
Brennan was silent for a moment, wanting to frame her reply so as not to give Angela more shells with which to bombard her.
"I respond to the width of his shoulders and his strong jawline." She could feel herself blushing as she spoke, "He also has pronounced inguinal ligaments, which I was surprised to find myself attracted to."
"His what is pronounced?"
"His inguinal ligaments." Brennan said, "They connect the top of the iliac crest to pubis. Like this."
She adjusted herself in her seat and ran her hands in a V from the top of her ilia to her pubis in demonstration.
Angela began to laugh, "His 'fuck me' lines. You think he's hot 'cause he has nice 'fuck me' lines."
"No. I said I responded to his inguinal ligaments."
Angela rolled her eyes, exasperated, "I know you well enough to know Brennan Code; the fact that 'you responded' means you think he's gorgeous, especially his 'inguinal ligaments', or his fuck me lines. Making your sentence 'I think he's hot and I want to do him."
"That's not what I said."
"No. But it's what you meant."
Brennan glared at Angela and turned to face forward.
"I don't know what the problem is sweetie," Angela cajoled, "He's hot, you're hot, you're in college, he's really hot . . . now is the time to experiment, experience what life has to offer, go get busy."
"I am often busy Angela. And in case you had forgotten I am now obligated to tutor him, any kind of sexual interaction would be inappropriate."
"You're tutoring him sweetie, not working for him."
"I am working off my debt to him."
Angela rolled her eyes. "It's an informal arrangement."
"Regardless, I don't need it to come out that I was having sex with the man I was tutoring, it could ruin my career."
"You don't have a career."
"Yet." Brennan paused and looked out the window, "Besides, it's not as though this argument has any grounds. For there to even be an issue he would have to respond to me in a similar fashion, and I doubt he feels the same physical attraction."
"If you say so." Angela responded in a doubtful tone.
Brennan continued, "Given the parameters of the current social standard of beauty and where I fall on that standard it is far more likely that Booth will be interested in you."
"I don't think so sweetie. Dress it up however you want, but all he looked at today was you."
"Most likely because my attire is so incongruous with our precious encounter; I'm certain he was merely attempting to assign me to the prevailing social ranking present at most universities."
"He wanted to do what?"
"To ascertain what subculture of students I belong to, and how that subculture ranks in relation to his own."
"Ok. I almost understood that."
"He wanted to put me in a proverbial box. Judging from his request for me to be his tutor, he has assigned me to the box for intelligent and bookish people."
"And then what? He wants you to tutor him so he can get a better grade in his class?"
"Why else would he want me to tutor him?"
"I'm not even . . ." Angela paused, exasperated, "Well what about you?"
"What about me?"
"Why did you agree to tutor him?"
"You told me it was an appropriate gesture of appreciation." Brennan turned to Angela, "Did you lie to me to get me to tutor Booth?"
"What? No! It is totally an appropriate gesture; I was just hoping you had your own reasons for agreeing to help Booth."
"Oh. What sort of reasons would those be?"
"That he's hot. And you want to get into his pants." Angela restated with particular emphasis.
Brennan considered her rationale for a moment before needing further clarification. "Is it a universal assumption that one will eventually become sexually involved with whomever is being tutored?"
Angela laughed, just as Brennan became concerned that she would be unable to adequately control the vehicle Angela stopped and gasped, "God I hope not sweetie."
"Then why do you continue to use Booth's . . . I believe the term to be 'hotness' . . . as a reason for me to tutor him."
"Because you wall yourself off! The men in your life are limited to Zach, Sweets, whoever's living on the floors below us, your professors, and Michael." She said the last name with obvious disgust. "You need someone gorgeous and sweet and a total hero. You don't have that."
Brennan ignored Angela as they pulled up in the loading zone to the left of their dorm in uncomfortable silence. Ahead of them in the loading zone was a familiar vehicle.
Angela yanked the emergency brake on the bus and jumped out, running with abbreviated steps to where the driver of the other car was carefully unloading boxes.
"Clark!" Angela squealed.
"Oh God, here we go . . ." He said as he turned around slowly, keeping the box between himself and Angela as Brennan approached from the bus, her travel back over one shoulder.
"You came back!" Angela continued.
"I thought you said you did not intend to further your education at this institution?"
Clark looked at Brennan, "No. I said my preferred learning environment tends toward the professional." He paused and looked pointedly at Angela, "See my tie? That's an indicator."
"If you feel this to be an adverse environment to your learning ability, why did you return?" Brennan asked before Angela could speak.
"Because this is the finest forensics program in the world."
Brennan nodded understandingly, "A degree from here would expand your future professional options. It is good to have you back Clark." She smiled, genuinely happy to see he had returned.
"Yeah." Angela's eyes flicked over him suggestively. Boldly enough that even Brennan noticed it.
"Still taken." He said with a smirk before walking past the two women towards the dorms.
Angela swooned dramatically, Brennan smirked and a shook her head.
Angela tugged her arm as they walked to the back of the bus.
"Clark is back!"
"I do not understand why you are so excited by Clark's return."
"Because he's Clark."
Brennan furrowed her brow, confused, but did not question Angela further.
Angela opened the back of the bus, there were a number of odd sized canvases, all small enough for one person to carry. But jammed in the middle, at a diagonal so it would fit into the bus, was an enormous canvas. Brennan just stared, Angela sighed.
"It was on sale." Angela said looking at Brennan, "I will totally grab all the rest of them if you help me get this thing up the stairs."
Brennan nodded, just wanting to get it over with so she could lie down in her own bed.
"Hey, you ok?" Angela asked, obviously concerned.
"Yes," Brennan replied, "Just tired."
Angela pursed her lips thoughtfully, "Nevermind." she said, "I'll get someone else to help me, ok?" and slammed the back of the bus shut as she took Brennan's arm. "Come on."
As they walked across the lawn Brennan noticed a man kneeling on a small carpet, bowing as he prayed.
"Aw, Arastoo's back!" Angela said, genuinely happy.
Brennan waved as he sat up, she knew he couldn't acknowledge her while praying, but that was no excuse not to be polite.
They walked through the security door into the dorm and Brennan was struck with the realization that nothing had changed while she was gone. The light still flickered in the cement stairwell, the door still closed with an alarming echo, the large bank of glass that formed the outer wall of the entire stairwell let in a disproportionately small amount of light; and those simple facts made her feel that she had been away longer than the 18 some odd hours it had actually been.
As they walked up the stairs Brennan focused entirely on putting one foot in front of the other, so much so that she didn't hear a door above her open and close with a slam.
"Oh! Doctor Brennan! You're back!"
Brennan sighed and looked up as a petite brunette appeared over the railing, "Daisy I have asked you repeatedly not to call me Doctor Brennan."
"But you only have a year left before you're done! And there's no way you won't get your doctorate! You should get used to people calling you that now!"
Daisy bounded down the stairs coming to a bouncy stop in front of Angela and Brennan.
Angela smiled tightly, "Daisy, hi, I didn't know you were back."
Daisy smiled and flipped her ponytail over her shoulder before shrugging her shoulders, "Yes. Well. I wasn't supposed to be back until tomorrow, but I just couldn't stand the thought of not being here as much as I could. Don't you just feel smarter here? I know I do. I just love it. I was so excited about returning. And-"
"Daisy," Brennan interrupted, "While I am pleased you are so enthusiastic about your education, I am rather tired and would like to go to my room and clean up before continuing with any social interaction."
"Oh! Yes! Here, let me help," Daisy piped up, as she reached for Brennan's bag.
Angela stopped her, "You know what would be really helpful? If you could get some of the smaller canvases out of my bus and bring them up."
"Oh! Are you sure? Because I am very-"
"Yes." Angela interrupted, "I am sure."
"Oh." Daisy gave Angela a tight lipped smile as she navigated between them and the walls, her smile widened and became genuine as she passed Brennan. It was not until they heard the all familiar slam of the security door that Angela and Brennan relaxed and continued up the stairs.
"I do not know why," Brennan said as they got to their floor, "But interaction with Daisy always makes me apprehensive."
"Don't worry sweetie, she makes everyone feel like that."
Angela pushed open the door and was greeted with the sound of two men arguing, loudly. She looked pointedly at Brennan, who shook her head and sighed.
Brennan looked past Angela to where Zach was standing next to another young man wearing only a white towel around his waist. He was 1.75 meters at most, with a wide distance between his clavicles, muscle definition that rivaled Booth's, curly dark blond hair on his head and chest, and bright blue eyes.
Zach was holding a glass jar over his own head, just out of reach of the other man.
"It's just a jar of sand." Zach yelled, "There is no perceived or actual intrinsic value here."
"It's not sand." The shorter man yelled back, "It's a particular combination of silica and calcium carbonate found only in a certain part of the world."
"Then it belongs in a lab. Not a dormitory."
"Personal objects have no place in a lab."
"Objects that belong in a lab have no place being personal."
Brennan stomped down the hall.
Startled, Zach dropped his hand and Brennan snatched the glass jar from him.
"What is this?" she demanded, shaking the jar.
"It's a particular combination of silica and calcium carbonate found only on the shores of the Dead Sea. The lowest point on earth not covered in water or ice." he said tightly, "And it has very real sentimental value." He finished, glaring at Zach.
Brennan sighed and handed the jar back to the man in a towel, "If this continues I will be forced to involve our new RA." She said, addressing both men, "I would rather not, she is rigid and demanding. However, in the interest of my personal peace of mind I will go to her with this." The blond man pointed the first finger of his right hand at Zach angrily, his brow furrowed and lips tight; he curled the finger into his fist, his entire arm shaking involuntarily as he pinched the rubber band around his right wrist with the thumb and first finger of his left hand. He snapped it once, hard, and Brennan could see him wince with the pain, then he turned abruptly and walked back into his room.
"Thank you Brennan. Your assistance in dissolving the situation was invaluable." Said Zach.
"All she did was delay the inevitable."
Brennan turned to see Sweets coming towards them, his boots scuffed along the carpet as he walked. She could tell he had been at a concert the night prior from his manner of dress; torn black jeans draped with chains, a black shirt that read "Dark Funeral" in decorative white lettering, and his white and black makeup smudged from sleeping in it.
"Oh look the phallus can talk." Zach fired at him. Sweets grew angry but suppressed the emotion.
"These sorts of altercations are going to continue, and possibly escalate, until the issue at the root of them is resolved."
"And what does your pseudoscience suggest we do, Professor Phallus?"
"It's not pseudoscience! And I have asked you repeatedly to refrain from referring to me as a phallus!"
"I would have to agree that it is, in fact, a pseudoscience." Brennan interjected looking at Sweets, turning to Zach she continued, "However it is not Sweets' fault he was given an unfortunate first name. Please terminate all references to sexual organs or objects when talking to or about him."
Zach frowned and his nose crinkled. "Fine."
"I also have to concede that Sweets is correct in his assessment of your interactions with your new roommate, even if he did come to that conclusion using unproven methods," she could hear Sweets snort behind her, but she ignored him and continued, "why don't you find something that will create a common ground between the two of you."
"Like what?" Zach said, crossing his arms.
"An experiment perhaps. If your roommate is a scientist as you are, there should be a considerable number of experiments you can perform."
The door opened unexpectedly and a blond head poked out through the space, blue eyes dilated and bright, "I have some liquid nitrogen, you want to freeze some stuff?"
Zach turned abruptly, "You can't have that in the dorms!" he whispered, as though certain someone would hear him.
The blond man looked completely unimpressed, "Are you going to turn me in or are you going to freeze some stuff that should never, ever, be frozen."
Zach thought for a brief moment before dashing through the door and locking it from the inside.
Angela laughed out loud as she turned and unlocked their own door.
Brennan looked at Sweets, "I would recommend washing your face soon, that type of makeup is not designed to be worn for extended periods of time and can have an adverse effect on your complexion."
"Whatever." He muttered before stomping back to his room.
As Brennan stepped inside she felt an overwhelming sense of relief.
Home at last.
TOTALLY forgot to put this here, my bad. But here it is now.
Text Note: In my mind; Lance = super ultra-phallic object. (seriously, look at one, they're like giant pointy penises) Watching the show, whenever someone calls him Lance all I hear is Phallus. And when Daisy calls him Lancelot all I hear is "Fucks Everything" (lance-a-lot).
I may have issues.
But now you all understand why Brennan calls him Sweets earlier in the story.
This all is for you all.
And you all rock.
