--

Mischief Managed

--

"You ready?" Zack asked, the wind blowing his lab coat in two different directions as it buffeted Hodgins' face.

"Of course I'm ready," the entomologist replied. "You sure you got all the calculations correct?"

"Yes. I did the math very carefully."

"Does Cam know about this?"

His eyebrows crinkled, "No. I thought you were going to tell her."

"We agreed that you would do it."

"Why?"

"Because, out of the two of us, you have the more innocent face."

"I do?"

"Yes. And besides, I did it last time."

"I apologize. Should I go ask her now?" he made to back up.

"No," Hodgins grabbed his lab coat and pulled him back. "It's too late for that. Did you at least inform Dr. Brennan?"

"No," he said.

Hodgins ran a hand over his face, "For the love of god, why?"

"She was on the phone."

He exhaled.

"Did I do something wrong?" Zack's face was morphing into one of slight distress.

"No," Hodgins sighed again. "No. It'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Okay."

"Okay."

They stood there for a moment.

"Shouldn't one of us drop it?"

Hodgins glanced at him. "You're the one who screwed all this up. You drop it."

"Why?"

"Because, that way, if Cam's going to fire us, the blame will all be on your shoulders."

His eyebrows crimped, "But you are standing here. You're going to be equally at fault."

"Fine," he took the plastic thing from Zack's hands. "I'll drop it."

"Okay."

Rolling his eyes, Hodgins held the thing out into the chilly air and dropped it. The two of them watched it fall to the ground and shatter.

A smile broke out over both their faces.

"Want to see what happened?" Hodgins asked.

"Very much," Zack replied.

They galloped to the elevator and the entomologist stabbed impatiently at the "down" button.

"You're aware that no matter how many times you press it, the elevator will still move at the same set pace, right?" Zack asked eventually.

"Yeah." His heart-beat was still fast and he felt the need to release it. "Was that your run?"

"Yes. I never was particularly adept when it came to my athleticism."

He snorted, "I'm not surprised."

He was saved from Zack's response by the doors opening.

They rushed from the building, but before they could get to their project, Jeffersonian security had intercepted them.

"Hey!" Hodgins protested as they handcuffed both him and Zack. "What's wrong with you people? Can't you see this is an important scientific project?"

"Lab personnel isn't automatically authorized just because you work here," the white suit holding him replied.

He muttered something.

"What was that?"

The sound of sirens cut off his chance for a reply, as well as the voice of one of the three people he didn't want to hear, "Who is it?"

"Is he dead?" the third voice he didn't want to hear followed.

"Yes," Zack replied. "But only because he was never alive."

Brennan and Booth, who had both been galloping to the scene, stopped abruptly in front of their plastic skeleton and exchanged a look.

"Gotta be kidding me," Booth said.

"Look at this," Hodgins said. "The Gestapo is interfering with free inquiry!" he turned to glare at his holder.

"Guys, just let 'em go," the agent said, rubbing his face. "If they try to escape, shoot 'em." He looked at Zack. "What's with the dummy, dummies?"

Uncuffed, the two quickly ran forward to explain, and, to their not-so-great surprise, Brennan's annoyance subsided the instant she saw the rational behind their actions, and she seemed to forget her original panic. Booth, on the other hand, merely looked annoyed.

"Alright, that's it," the agent announced after their conclusions had been voiced, "No shooting of the squints tonight. Sorry." He began to walk away. "Alright, good work. Let's go, Bones." He led the anthropologist away, the crowd around them already dispersing.

Hodgins and Zack exchanged a fist-bump.

Mischief managed.

--