Hey, guys, are you all getting bored with this story yet? I did manage to finish a new chapter for the weekend and I hope you enjoy. Please remember to review and keep Musie happy.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Booth rolled over on what passed for a cot in the lab with a groan, wondering how the hell anybody could possibly sleep on something so freaking uncomfortable. With all the money at their disposal, you would think they could at least provide something for their people that didn't feel like you were lying on one of the metal tables. But no, they apparently didn't want anyone wasting time on unproductive, unnecessary pursuits like sleeping. Admittedly, it hadn't seemed nearly as uncomfortable when he had nudged Brennan over and crawled in with her at almost 5am but he had a feeling that had more to do with Brennan being snuggled against him than the cot actually being comfortable. Without opening his eyes, he knew that she was gone and that was probably what had woken him. God, he felt like crap, like he had only closed his eyes moments earlier but he knew he wouldn't be getting back to sleep on this stone like slab so he rubbed a hand over his face, rolling around to sit on the side of the cot with a sigh.
"Good morning, sunshine," chirped a gratingly cheerful voice. Booth's head jerked around toward the sound to see Angela sitting on a stool she had positioned where she could apparently watch him sleep while flipping through a magazine.
"What the hell are you doing, Angela?" he growled.
"I was watching you sleep," she confirmed his suspicions readily, not at all put out by his grouchy demeanor.
"Well, stop it," he ordered, "it's creepy and highly disturbing." Angela laughed as he stood and stretched to get the kink out of his back.
"Yeah, well, I was bored and there wasn't really anything else to do," Angela explained with an unapologetic shrug.
"Where's Bones?" Booth asked, sniffing as he caught the scent of fresh coffee.
"She and the interns went to work as soon as we got here," Angela sighed.
"And that was when?" Booth asked, finding the coffee and pouring himself a cup. Turning toward Angela, he leaned a hip against the counter and took a long, bracing sip of his very hot coffee. Wincing at his scorched tongue, he glanced at his watch. 7:14 am. No wonder he felt like crap, he had only had around 4 hours of sleep in the last two nights.
"We got here about half an hour ago," Angela supplied, taking a sip of her own coffee, giving Booth a thoughtful, thorough perusal. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you look awful, Studly," she grinned.
"Gee, thanks, Ange. How could I possibly take that the wrong way?" he asked sarcastically, hoping he looked better than he felt.
"Glad to help," laughed Angela. "Now I've got something that will really cheer you up," she chirped and Booth's eyes narrowed, her tone making him seriously doubt that.
"And what would that be, Angela?" he asked at her expectant pause.
"I'm helping you today," she grinned, practically bouncing on her stool with excitement. Booth's eyes widened and he took a long sip of his coffee to stall for a little time to come up with a response to that generous offer. Somehow, oh, hell no, just didn't seem appropriate.
"Umm, Ange, that's really generous of you but you're not an FBI agent so I don't really see how you can help," he offered in relief, patting himself on the back for coming up with an appropriate, believable response.
Angela snorted. Loudly. "Oh, please, like I need a badge to walk around and give people orders," she countered, apparently unwilling to take no for an answer. "I'm really good at that already," she assured him.
"And modest, too," Booth muttered under his breath. Angela's eyes narrowed but she didn't comment so Booth didn't know if she had understood his words or not.
"Come on, Booth, there must be something I can do to help you today." Her voice took on a pleading note and Booth's eyes narrowed. Something was definitely up with the artist.
"What's going on, Angela?" Booth asked softly trying to make eye contact but she avoided meeting his eyes.
"It's kind of obvious you need the help, Booth," she began. "I mean you have to supervise a lot of people," she hastily added when she saw him stiffen at the perceived insult, "and you were so busy yesterday you didn't even make it to the lodge and had to sleep on that," she sneered delicately at the cot.
"Angela," he drew out warningly, not having the time, inclination or patience to play games this morning.
"Okay, fine," she sighed, finally meeting his eyes with a beseeching look on her face. "Everyone is really busy and I just keep getting in the way," she admitted.
"Why don't you help Hodgins?" Booth asked curiously.
"Apparently, I'm not qualified," she sounded a little bewildered and very disgruntled about that and Booth couldn't really blame her. He got that she wasn't qualified to assist Brennan but what kind of qualifications did you really need to sift through all the dirt the team was removing from the grave?
"Says who?" Booth asked cautiously.
"Hodgins, Cam and Brennan," Angela sighed and Booth winced. It couldn't have been pleasant to have been told by all three that you weren't qualified to play in the dirt.
"Did they say why?" he asked curiously, knowing that none of the three would be deliberately cruel to the artist.
"Something about the evidence collection having to stand up in court," she admitted, omitting the fact that she had been a tad upset and highly insulted that her three colleagues didn't seem to think she was smart enough to dig through piles of dirt but she was over that now. After mulling it over, she understood their reasoning and wasn't holding it against them but she couldn't spend another whole day at the lodge. It was much nicer than she had expected but she was bored out of her mind and she felt completely useless. She just wanted to do something productive, to do whatever she could to help everyone get through this awful situation and right now, Booth was her best chance of that happening. "I just want to help, too, Booth," she assured him quietly, giving him hopeful glances from beneath her lashes.
Booth could understand Brennan's caution on this one. If they were actually lucky enough to recover any evidence, it would be bad to have it excluded because Angela had collected it and she wasn't specifically trained to do so. It wasn't personal and he could see that Angela knew that. He could also see that she desperately wanted to help. Sighing internally, he knew he would wind up finding her something to do so she could feel useful and stay out of everyone's hair but he clearly didn't answer quickly enough to suit her.
"I don't even know why they brought me," she heaved in a huge sigh of lament, peeking at him from under her lashes. Booth snorted into his coffee and Angela managed to look hurt for about three seconds before grinning at him impishly. "Too much drama queen?" she asked as if she really wanted to know so she could adjust her next performance accordingly.
"Way too much drama queen," Booth agreed. He was willing to help her out because he really didn't want to think about the kind of havoc she could wreak just wandering around aimlessly but he didn't have time to put up with any of her shenanigans today. "Okay, Angela, here's the deal. I'll find you something to do but I expect you to be on your best behavior," he told her sternly, amused at her eager nod. "The first hint of trouble will get you shipped back to the lodge," he warned.
"Fair enough," Angela grinned, jumping off her stool and Booth blinked at the transformation that took place. She went from a mischievous, teasing artist to a calm, professional persona within the space of a heartbeat, picking up a clipboard and looking at what appeared to be notes. "Brennan had Vincent bring in your overnight bag and it's in the bathroom." Booth nodded, pleased to have his toiletries and a change of clothing already handy. "The Talbert's sent over breakfast so if you're hungry, it's set up outside. Bren wants to see you when you get a chance and Agent Van Buren wants to talk to you ASAP." Booth's eyes widened as Angela very competently delivered his messages. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad having her help today. One could always hope for the best.
"Thanks, Angela," he murmured, finishing his coffee and tossing the empty cup in the trash, immediately heading for the miniscule bathroom at the back of the lab. He would love to have a 20 minute hot shower but the shower in the tiny bathroom was for decontamination purposes and wasn't equipped with a water heater so he was going to get a quick wash up with cold water and that would just have to suffice.
"You're welcome," Angela called after him, sounding so chipper that Booth rolled his eyes. He was glad he had made her feel better but he could only hope he didn't wind up regretting his decision to let her help and that she didn't drive him insane with good cheer today.
Five hours later, Booth was beginning to think that Angela's talents were being wasted on her art. She would have made one hell of a personal assistant and an even better Army drill sergeant. He had started out basically giving her inconsequential, busy work but she had uncomplainingly and efficiently accomplished every task, using a combination of flirty banter and iron will to boss his men around, leaving them somewhat bemused by her presence but happy to do as she asked. By now, she had graduated to actually assisting him and Booth had to admit that today was certainly proceeding much more smoothly than yesterday had. He didn't know if it was Angela's assistance or something else that was responsible but he welcomed the change of pace, grateful that he had time to actually catch his breath and get something accomplished today instead of just putting out fires.
"Do you think she'd be interested in joining the bureau?" Van Buren asked speculatively, nodding toward Angela as she went trotting across the clearing after an agent who was not following the clear instructions she had just given him.
"God, I hope not," Booth returned, shuddering with horror at the very thought. Yeah, so far she was doing great but no way would the FBI survive her long term.
"Why not? She's doing a good job and she looks like she's having fun. It might be a good fit," Van Buren argued, playing devil's advocate.
"Trust me, Van Buren, when I tell you that the FBI isn't ready for Angela Montenegro," Booth returned decisively. "Did the team finish the second sweep of the woods yet?" he asked.
"Not yet," Van Buren replied, "but Evans radioed about ten minutes ago and they hadn't found anything yet."
"Yeah, I figured as much," mused Booth. They had searched for the intruder for more than two hours this morning without finding a trace of anyone but Booth had sent another team out to expand the search as soon as the five new agents had arrived. He hadn't really expected them to find anything but he had hoped they would spot something in the daylight that had been missed in the dark.
"You don't think it was a reporter, do you?" asked Van Buren quietly.
"No, I don't," sighed Booth. He couldn't imagine any press getting that close and not taking photos then splashing them all over the media. So far there had been no such photos making an appearance in print or cyberspace and that lessened the probability that the lurker had been a reporter. Unfortunately, only one other theory of who it had been made any sense at all, a theory that Booth hoped was wrong but he was treating it as fact until he had absolute proof otherwise.
To adequately protect the site and the people working it, he had to assume that the killer or killers had returned to the scene of the crime and, considering that they had already committed mass murder, he really didn't see them having a problem with doing whatever it took to keep from getting caught. It sent chills down his spine to remember how close they had gotten last night without being spotted. That could not happen again, he just wasn't sure how to prevent it considering they were surrounded by thousands of acres of forest.
"Radio Evans back and tell them to double time it back here," Booth ordered absently, his eyes moving over the rapidly darkening sky. The rain was a couple of hours behind its predicted arrival time but it was definitely on its way and soon. If the team was going to pick up a trail, they would have done it by now and there was no sense in his men getting caught in the gathering storm if they had a choice. Without comment, Van Buren immediately made radio contact with Evans and relayed the order. Booth used those few minutes to prioritize the rest of his day in his head.
The first order of business was finishing with up the road crew so he could send them on their way. Before dismissing the crime scene techs, Booth had had them dust all of the equipment that had been tampered with for prints but, considering the number of people who had openly acknowledged that they had worked on it, he wasn't holding out any great hopes they would get any usable prints at all. He certainly wasn't counting on them finding anything that would give them an epiphany regarding the identity of the saboteur so he had to rely on his skill at reading people and interview everyone involved.
He had already interviewed six of the nine man road crew and had gotten only the expected nervousness of normal, hardworking people being questioned by the FBI. Sweets had sat in on the interviews and had also spoken with them in a more casual setting and he agreed with Booth's assessment. So far, no one they had spoken to had displayed the characteristics of a psychopath. But then again, according to Sweets, psychopaths were extremely good at appearing normal so who the hell knew for sure? All he knew was that his gut wasn't warning him about anyone he had interviewed so far. "I need to talk to Bones then I'm going back to base camp to finish interviewing the road crew so they can be on their way," Booth told Van Buren.
"Is the guard duty rotation ready for the next couple of days?" Van Buren asked, his mind also going over what he needed to accomplish today.
"Angela's handing it out right now. She'll give you a copy," Booth said just as Angela approached, a copy of the aforementioned schedule at the ready.
"Here you go," she told Van Buren cheerfully, passing him the papers in her hand. "Your assigned times have been highlighted on this schedule. Don't lose it and don't be late," she warned. Pulling a thicker sheaf of papers off of her clipboard, she extended them toward the amused Van Buren. "As a supervisor, you'll need a copy of the master list so here you go."
Booth could only shake his head in wonder. Just yesterday, he would have thought scatterbrained and flaky were appropriate descriptions of Angela but in half a day, she had blown that impression out of the water. Only someone highly intelligent, organized and very disciplined would have been able to adapt to this scenario so quickly and carry it out so flawlessly. Yeah, he had known Angela was intelligent because of the Angelator and her work with Brennan but he had never really lumped her in with the rest of the squints, not until today, anyway. He was beginning to think that Angela, much like Brennan, hid much of herself behind that bohemian exterior, only allowing the world to see what she wanted them to see. It was kind of humbling to realize in just a few hours that he might have been misreading someone so badly for so long.
"Thank you," Van Buren said graciously.
"Yeah, whatever," she returned, barely sparing Van Buren another glance before turning to Booth. "Lunch should be here in about 20 minutes so I had the boys set up a table the Talberts sent over in the greenhouse since it's going to start raining any time. Bren is not a happy camper that "unqualified personnel are going to be allowed access to such a sensitive area"," Angela breezed on, glancing at her clipboard to give him direct quotes, her voice full of laughter. "She made Hodgins and the interns rope off a "suitable perimeter" around the grave and said to tell you that "unauthorized access will not be permitted". I warned everyone not to trespass but some of your people just aren't the sharpest knives in the drawer," she shook her head sadly and patted his arm consolingly in commiseration, "so you might want to remind them because Bren is in a really bad mood and it could get ugly if they forget," she finished with a twinkle in her eyes and a very self satisfied smirk on her face.
Okay, so maybe he hadn't misjudged her so badly after all. She was obviously having a ball, playing at being his personal assistant being her choice of entertainment for the day. He had no idea why she would find it so entertaining and trying to figure out how Angela's mind worked always made his head hurt so he decided it really didn't matter. Regardless of why she was doing it, she was doing a good job and deserved his thanks. "I'll take care of it. Thanks, Angela."
"Always glad to stir things up a little, Studly," she retorted with a wicked grin then she was off again, leaving a grinning Van Buren staring after her, shaking his head. He thought he was beginning to understand what Booth had meant by the FBI not being ready for Angela and he was in full agreement. He would be willing to bet that it would take her less than a month to either take over the agency or cause so much chaos that it collapsed from within, neither of which was a fitting end for the bureau he was so proud to be a part of.
Booth was already headed toward the greenhouse to judge Brennan's level of agitation for himself. He wasn't surprised she didn't want her now completely protected scene invaded by agents but seeing as the greenhouse and the mobile lab were the only structures available and his men couldn't stand out in the rain and eat, he didn't have a lot of options. He had been on his way to talk to her about it himself when Van Buren had stopped him with a question and Angela had simply beaten him to the punch. He strongly suspected that Angela was exaggerating Brennan's reaction because his Bones was nothing if not logical. He had already stopped by the greenhouse a couple of times today and knew Brennan wasn't in the greatest of moods but with a rational explanation, he expected her to vent a little then settle down.
Striding into the greenhouse, his eyes swept over the well defined boundary that had been erected with metal stakes and yellow crime scene tape and his lips curved in amusement. Considering that the crime scene team was gone, he wondered where the squints had gotten the official, yellow tape but he wasn't going to ask because, in this case, he suspected ignorance was bliss. Gingerly stepping over the knee high border, he approached the grave, glad to hear the interns chattering away, apparently having made some strides in coming to terms with what they were doing. Brennan appeared to be completely absorbed in her task of slowly brushing the dirt away from a skull, but as he came closer, her head snapped around as if her radar had alerted her that her perimeter had been breached. Her narrow eyed glare of annoyance faded the instant she saw him and her face softened into a smile. "Hi," she said, sitting back on her heels and looking up at him.
"Hi," he squatted at the side of the grave, returning her smile. "It looks like you're really starting to make some progress here," he said, his eyes moving over the rapidly enlarging hole she and the interns were kneeling in. They had moved the remains of the second victim to the lab a couple of hours earlier for Cam to get started on identification and had partially uncovered a third skeleton that even Booth could identify as a child.
"Some," Brennan allowed but Booth could feel her frustration at the need to go so slowly. She understood the need to preserve evidence better than most and, on a purely scientific dig, she was capable of infinite patience. She would actually have enjoyed the slow pace, savoring the excitement, eagerly anticipating each glimpse of another time, another peoples' lives as it was revealed piece by piece. But this case wasn't about scientific research or another time that could be viewed in the abstract, it was about horrible, evil people and the terrible things they do and it was all too real. In these circumstances, everyone here just wanted to get those children out of that grave so they could get on with finding out who had done this terrible thing and make sure they never did it again.
"Can you take a break?" Booth asked softly. "I need to talk to you," he added when she hesitated, clearly reluctant to stop working.
"Okay," she nodded with a sigh, laying her tools aside and standing up. "Keep working and I'll be right back," she told the interns who all nodded eagerly. Carefully stepping around Daisy, who had, once again, positioned herself beside Brennan, she approached Booth, taking his outstretched hand and allowing him to help her out of the grave. "What did you need to talk to me about?" she queried but their attention was drawn to a commotion at the door before Booth could answer. Brennan frowned in annoyance as the other FBI agents came trooping in carrying covered trays of food and a cooler of drinks.
"Oh, thank God, food. I'm absolutely famished," sighed Vincent behind them.
"Yeah, I'm starving, too," agreed Wendell.
"Just as our souls shrivel and die from lack of sustenance, so will our bodies," intoned Fisher drolly.
"I suppose I could eat," piped in Daisy.
"I think the kiddies are ready for lunch," Booth whispered, leaning close and grinning with amusement at the interns transparent attempts to remind Brennan that they needed nourishment. He couldn't hold back his laughter at the Gee, ya think look Brennan gave him before turning back to the interns who were all four gazing up at her hopefully.
"Take half an hour for lunch," she ordered and Booth laughed harder as he watched the four of them launch into motion, carefully but hastily climbing out of the hole and eagerly heading toward the food. His amusement was halted mid laugh as Brennan turned on her heel and started toward the exit.
"Whoa," he reached out and caught her arm, halting her progress. "Where are you going?" he asked when she looked at him questioningly.
"While everyone's eating, I'm going to examine the latest set of remains if Cam has finished her identification," she explained patiently.
"No," he said firmly, softening the refusal with a smile.
"Excuse me?" she questioned with a disdainful, raised brow that might have intimidated him at one time. Now, he thought it was adorable.
"You need to eat," he explained but she shook her head, her patience rapidly waning. She had too much to do to bother with eating.
"I'm not hungry," she denied, turning back toward the door.
"Bones," Booth said softly, catching her other arm as well and turning her back to face him. He knew she hadn't eaten at all yet today and he doubted she had consumed anything yesterday except a couple of the cardboard, energy bars that were stocked in the mobile lab. He had fallen down on his job yesterday, not making sure she took the time to eat, but he wasn't going to repeat that mistake today. He was going to win this one. "You have to eat," he reiterated, fighting a smile at the stubborn set of her mouth. "Besides if you go to the lab now, I'll just have to follow you and talk to you while you're examining the remains. You know how much you hate that," he teased and her mouth softened, almost but not quite curving into a smile.
Brennan sighed at how well this man knew her. She did hate it when people talked to her during an examination, finding it distracting and annoying. Mostly, she could just tune them out but she had lost the ability to ignore anything about Booth years ago, especially when he was in the vicinity. Looking at the sexy smile on his lips, the concern in his warm brown eyes, she knew she was going to give in and was a little disgusted with her own lack of control where he was concerned. The fact that he could change her course of action, at work, no less, with a few words or a look was kind of pathetic and would have scared the crap out of her if she hadn't trusted him implicitly. But she did trust him, so it just gave her a warm, glowing feeling inside to do something to make him happy. That being said, she didn't want him to know just how weak she was when it came to him or to get any cockier than he already was so, yeah, she was going to give in but she was going to make him work for it first.
"Come on, Bones," he said softly, stepping even closer, his hand reaching up to stroke a finger up and down her cheek. "The remains will still be there later. All I'm asking is that you take thirty minutes and have lunch with me. Please?" he cajoled, his voice taking on a husky timber that sent shivers down her spine, his finger tracing over her lower lip, his eyes darkening and starting to smolder.
Well, damn, how was she supposed to hold out against that? If he kept touching her like that and using that tone of voice on her, she couldn't imagine not giving him anything he wanted. "Okay," she whispered and was rewarded with a brilliant smile that actually made her heart flutter. Sliding an arm around her shoulders, Booth gave her a quick squeeze and turned her toward the table holding the food, his hand sliding from her shoulder to its customary resting place on her lower back. Feeling her stiffen, he followed her gaze and started laughing when he saw how belligerently she was looking at a couple of his agents who had strayed too near her perimeter fence to suit her.
"Don't worry," he whispered in her ear, not even trying to restrain his laughter, "they're all too scared of you to cross your line."
"They'd better not," she muttered, glaring at one of the agents who actually reached out and touched the crime scene tape. As if he could sense he was being watched, the agent suddenly lifted his head and looked straight at Booth and Brennan, paling and hastily beating a retreat when he caught sight of Brennan's scowl.
"See, I told you they were afraid of you," Booth teased.
"What did you need to talk to me about?" she asked, her voice bland but she was wearing a Cheshire cat smile.
"Clark called to let you know that he would have everything you asked for this morning ready by 3," Booth got that out of the way first as he had promised Clark he wouldn't forget.
Brennan nodded, as she automatically picked up a paper plate and surveyed the array of sandwiches and chips laid out on the table. Hardly the height of healthy nutrition but, in the circumstances, providing anything more complicated was problematic to say the least. Booth certainly didn't seem to mind the selection, she noted in amusement, as he started piling sandwiches on his plate.
"What?" he demanded, catching her laughing eyes on his plate. "Hey, I'm starving. I didn't get any dinner last night or breakfast this morning and those energy bars in the lab are nasty," he continued defensively.
"I didn't say anything," she grinned, "and those energy bars are very nutritious, specially formulated to meet your dietary daily requirements with the ingestion of only three bars. They're much better for you than that over processed white bread and animal flesh swimming in preservatives," she finished in her best lecturing voice, pointing at his plate.
"Maybe," Booth conceded, "but it would be a miracle if anyone could actually choke one of those disgusting things down, much less three. And thank you so much for providing the visual I'll have in my head every time I take a bite of my sandwiches," he said in disgust, picking up one of the halved sandwiches on his plate and waving it at her.
"You're welcome," she said oh so sweetly. "And for your information, I often consume those energy bars," she informed him loftily.
"Now why doesn't that surprise me?" he drawled.
"I don't know why that doesn't surprise you," she retorted, taking the question literally. "Considering your age, Booth, you really should consider altering your diet to derive any of the positive long term effects of a healthier lifestyle," she chided and Booth rolled his eyes at the familiar refrain.
"Oh, God, not the alligator testicles again," he groaned, rolling his eyes.
Cam entered the greenhouse just in time to hear Booth's comment echo off the walls, her eyes immediately going to the partners. They were, as usual, totally focused on each other, blithely unaware of the snickers and the open mouthed stares their rather loud conversation was generating in the other FBI agents. Glancing around, she saw that the rest of the Jeffersonian team was calmly filling their own plates, having witnessed enough real explosions between the duo that their interest wasn't even drawn by the commonplace bickering. The other agents, on the other hand, appeared to be fascinated, their eyes following the pair's every move, the air of speculation almost palpable.
"Whatcha doing?" inquired Angela, walking up beside Cam, crossing her arms over her chest and following Cam's eyes to Booth and Brennan. "Ah, I see," Angela nodded, grinning, her eyes following the still bickering pair who had finished with the food and were now settling themselves on the ground a considerable distance from everyone else.
"Do they always fight like that?" asked a male voice and Cam and Angela turned toward Van Buren who had approached so quietly they hadn't heard him.
"They're not fighting," scoffed Angela with a grin.
"They're not?" Van Buren blinked in surprise. Granted, the encounter hadn't appeared to be harsh but it had seemed somewhat heated for a normal discussion.
"No," confirmed Cam, smiling at Van Buren. "Believe it or not, that's what passes for conversation between the two of them."
"Seriously?" asked Van Buren, smiling back at Cam, his eyes lingering on her face, his smile widening to a grin when Cam actually blushed.
"Yeah," confirmed Angela, her eyes moving speculatively from the blushing, flustered Cam to the grinning Van Buren who was eyeing the pathologist like she was the tastiest morsel he had seen in quite some time. "Trust me, if they ever have a real fight, you'll know it," she assured Van Buren, who nodded but didn't take his eyes off of Cam.
"If that ever happens, just duck for cover and stay out of the way," Cam warned, her eyes meeting and holding warm, green ones. "It never ends well when someone tries to get between them."
"I'll have to remember that," Van Buren murmured, his eyes narrowing at the flicker of emotion in Cam's eyes, getting the feeling that she wasn't just referring to getting between the two in a fight.
"You should do that. It could save your life," Angela piped in cheerfully, quickly deciding she had better things to do than stand around and watch those two make puppy dog eyes at each other. "I'll see you two later," she added, rolling her eyes when neither of her companions even glanced at her. Grabbing a sandwich and a bottle of water, she headed back out the door. She had things to do and men with guns and badges to boss around.
"Looks like you're really training the junior squints well, Bones," Booth said, his voice full of laughter.
"What?" Brennan's head lifted and she blinked at him in confusion, her fork pausing in mid air. "What are you talking about?" she asked.
Grinning, Booth raised a hand and pointed toward the grave. Brennan's eyes followed his extended finger to see that the interns had placed themselves in a line directly in front of her makeshift fence, glaring threateningly at anyone who even started in their direction. "I don't know what you mean, Booth," she said innocently, biting her bottom lip to keep from smiling. "They're simply enjoying their lunch." Booth snorted his disbelief and she couldn't hold the smile back any longer. "I might have stressed the importance of not contaminating the scene when Angela informed me of the necessity of using the greenhouse for meals," she shrugged.
"Yeah, Angela said you weren't happy about it," Booth grinned. "Speaking of Angela, how is it she didn't catch us in bed together this morning?"
"How do you know she didn't?" Brennan asked curiously.
"Because I can still hear," Booth snorted and Brennan's brow crinkled in confusion. "If Angela had caught us, she'd still be squealing," Booth explained, "and she sure as hell wouldn't have been able to keep her mouth shut about it all morning." Brennan had to give him that one so she nodded. "So what time did you sneak back in here to work?" he asked with a slightly raised brow.
"I did not sneak anywhere, Booth," she gasped, trying to look outraged but only succeeding in looking guilty because she had sneaked. She hadn't awoken when he came to bed but had roused around 6am, unable to go back to sleep on the cramped, uncomfortable cot. Reasoning that the intruder was taken care of one way or the other since Booth was there and that it would be a much more productive use of her time to get back to work rather than toss and turn, she had slipped out of bed, dressed and made her way to the greenhouse. Booth simply looked at her steadily as his brow arched higher. "Fine," she huffed, feeling the same twinges of guilt over the fact that Booth hadn't actually told her it was okay to leave the lab that she had felt this morning. "I sneaked, okay? Does it make you happy to hear me admit it?" she demanded grouchily.
"Everything about you makes me happy, Bones," he said huskily, turning his big body so that she was blocked from the view of anyone else in the room, reaching out and lazily brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face.
"So you're not mad?" she asked cautiously, her heart rate picking up at the glittering, focused look in his eyes. She knew that look very, very well and it always meant that she was in for a very pleasurable hour or so.
"I'm not mad," her assured her, picking up a plump, ripe strawberry from the plate she had set down several minutes earlier and brushing it lightly over her lips, urging them to part and accept his offering.
Brennan closed her lips around the fruit, taking her time before gently biting down, her breath hitching at the way Booth's darkening eyes were so intently focused on her mouth. "Umm," she moaned, her eyes closing in ecstasy as she slowly savored the sweet fruit, her tongue darting out to leisurely lick the juice from her lips.
"You are an evil woman," Booth muttered thickly, barely repressing a groan at the erotic way she was consuming the strawberry, his body suddenly hard as a rock.
"Aren't you going to feed me the rest?" she asked innocently, her eyelids fluttering open.
"That would be a very bad idea," he assured her, shifting to a more comfortable position, swallowing hard when the tip of her tongue darted out to lick her lips again.
"You started it," she reminded him with a positively wicked smile.
"I know," he acknowledged, bending his head until his lips were almost touching her ear, "and if I feed you the rest of this strawberry, I'm going to drag you back to the lab and finish it," he growled, feeling the tremor that ran through her body. Meeting her rapidly darkening cerulean eyes, Booth saw how much she wanted him to do just that and his whole body clenched.
"Mind if I join you?" interrupted Hodgins, jerking them apart. Not waiting for a reply, he dropped down to sit on the other side of Brennan.
"Please feel free to join us, Hodgins," Booth invited sarcastically, shifting several times before he found a position that relived some of the pressure on his erection, wondering how the hell feeding Brennan a piece of fruit had gotten him so turned on that his whole body was almost vibrating.
"Thanks," returned Hodgins with a grin, already digging into his food.
"I should get back to work," Brennan said quietly, gathering her garbage and standing. "I'll see you later," she promised softly, meeting Booth's eyes.
"Yeah, you will," Booth answered, his eyes promising that she would be seeing all of him later. Nodding, she was off and, with a sigh, Booth turned to Hodgins to make polite conversation until he could walk out of here without embarrassing himself. It was going to be a very long day.