Title: The Undoing and Breaking of a Heart
Plot: A one-shot. Is there more? I doubt it.
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Pft. Don't tell me by now you know I don't own them. I did ask for them for Christmas though.
Note: Yeah, I am not a fan of the Angela/Booth shipper (Brennan and Booth all the way baby!) But I am a fan of trouble and controversy, so I wrote this.
It was the end of another long work day. Unfortunately, the beginning of the next was fast approaching. Drinks always worked in chasing away the tired and horrible, even if she only had about seven hours before she would be back in the lab, hovered over a skull, watching Zach and Hodgins buzzing over the remains. And as always, she would put on a happy face, pretending it did not bother her as she went along sketching.
Her phone vibrated on the table, shattering her thoughts and a sip of her green apple martini. Ah, one of the small pleasure in life. She hit the green button on her phone and listened to the other voice on the receiver.
"Hey, I won't be able to make it tonight. Something came up," the voice explained.
"Lab related I am sure," the woman said, no hint of surprise at the excuse in her voice. She had come to expect this of the caller. It wasn't the first time this had happened after all.
"This case is fascinating. I need to look more in depth at the bones."
"Booth doesn't seem too worried," the woman responded, glancing over at the dark figure sitting at the bar. No rebuttal came, only silence on the other end.
"Don't work too late Sweetie."
"Bye."
Even the goodbye was rarely extended between the two friends. Angela sighed and put her phone into her purse. Throwing it over her shoulder, she walked to the bar and took a seat on the nearest bar stool.
"Brennan will be MIA again tonight," Angela offered.
"Surprise, surprise," Booth smiled, twirling his beer around on the table.
Angela responded back with a smile of her own. No Brennan meant no more pretending. Booth stood and grabbed Angela's hand, pulling her out of the door of Wong Fu's. Her heart did a flip flop and excitement coursed through her veins as Seely Booth shoved her against the wall of the restaurant, kissing her lips with unbridled passion.
These trysts were dangerous and unnerving. Guilt always accompanied her afterward, but she found it devastatingly hard to resist him. His eyes were dark and mysterious in the bar light, his smile lit up whatever room he was in, and his body looked as if it had been chiseled by an artist. She smiled at the thought, glad she had been the artist to study this masterpiece of man.
As their hands trailed one another, an overworked forensic anthropologist sat at her lab, oblivious to the events that had unfolded. Brennan was far from ignorant, even on the emotional aspects of humanity. She saw things without admitting her sights or plowing over them and shoving them away. Somehow, by the luck of God, Angela and Booth had managed to fly low under her radar.
Angela felt guilty and despaired that all of this could end a friendship. How long does a man's attention last? And who picks up the pieces when it is gone? The sneaking around had become unbearable. Even as he sent electric fire throughout her body, she dwelled on the fact. She already saw the end to the night. Another early morning with a familiar arm around her.
How long could she shield herself from the inevitable? How long could she deny the feelings of her best friend toward the FBI Agent? Love always has a way of building someone up, and then tearing them down painfully. Would she lose her lover, but more importantly, her best friend?
As she stumbled into his apartment, she knew the end was near. The day was fast approaching when the truth would not longer be contained. Dread welled in her, fear of loss and of the guilty pleasure she should have never indulged in.