And, one for my kitty...
It's not enough for her that I dedicate two of the AUs to her. I gotta dedicate this one too...
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Cat
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Cats are quite graceful, almost elegant in their feather-light moves. But their sharp claws and sharper teeth suggest that they are more than simply slinking and pissy sort of animals, and they generally do whatever it is that they please.
And even the domesticated ones always get up with a flinch and then a sudden snap up, usually to regard whatever it is that has awoken them. And if they deem it worthy, the paws will slide out, oh so slowly, as their back arches and stretches back. They hold that pose for a few seconds, maybe yawning too, before shaking a little, turning, and myowing in a "oh-I'm-so-happy-to-see-you-now-pet-me-before-I-have-to-step-on-your-stomach-with-all-of-my-weight-until-you-pay-attention-to-me" sort of way. Though if they don't, then they just give you The Look, or, more severely, The Glare (something which most thought only human females have mastered), or, finally, The Melt-Before-My-Penetrating-Gaze, which is reserved only for the worst offenders, or those who haven't complied with their orders in a timely manner, usually accompanied by a growl. Then they flip over, exhale softly, and fall back asleep.
Now, Booth thought, those were all admirable qualities. If he tried to get away with half the things his old cat had done, he'd be flat on his ass on the streets. But, still, he had all the grace of a drunken giraffe, and it would be nice to be just a little more stable on his feet.
Which was probably why he was splayed on his back on the floor, his jaw throbbing, his jacket bunched uncomfortably under his ribcage. He hadn't even seen it coming; she hadn't given him a chance to see it coming. One second he was standing, talking to his suspect, and the next he was decked.
"Next time, Booth," his partner's voice haled from above as the woman herself stepped gracefully over his legs, "you feel the need to use me as your weaker counterpart while we're undercover, I will aim slightly higher than that, and I guarantee the fall won't knock you out so much as my force."
He watched from his downed position—too shocked to react—as she walked away, the heels she'd been complaining about since they'd started clicking in her wake, the feline analogy clear on his mind.
"Hey, Bones," he called after her, "You ever realize you're just like a cat?"
"Lion or tiger?" she replied, shutting the door before he could answer.
"House cat," he muttered. "But it sure as hell doesn't mean that your smack hurts any less."
He rubbed his jaw.
--
