I have recently fallen in love with this television show, and more specifically, this pairing. I just think that Hodgins and Angela are the cutest couple ever! And so I am writing this rather disjointed fanfic. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Nothing. I own not a solitary thing in the world.

Jack Hodgins sat perched on the top of a tall stool, one eye glued to the eyepiece of his microscope, the other squinted shut so that he wouldn't have to get a headache from double-vision. He was studying a piece of rabbit bone with fierce intensity, searching for something, anything, that seemed out of the ordinary. His scruffy beard and well-worn blue jeans and shirt gave no indication that he came from one of the wealthiest families in America—exactly what he'd been intending.

He was finding nothing—the bone was clean. Sitting back with a sigh, Hodgins rubbed his eyes. First assignment on the first day of his new job and he already felt like a complete failure. Irritably, he pushed away from the lab table.

A noise behind him made him turn to the door, blue eyes dark with frustration. A young woman of about his age stood in the entryway, a cheerful smile on her face—and Hodgins felt the breath catch in his throat.

She was the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen. Her long dark hair tumbled in loose coils around her shoulders, framing a face that featured a pair of large, slanted brown eyes and high cheekbones. Hodgins hastily stood, noticing with regret and resignation that she was taller than he was.

"Umm…hi," he said, normal quippy wit fleeing for the hills. He felt like he was back in high school, faced with some sort of extremely popular cheerleader.

"Hey!" she said brightly. "My name's Angela Montenegro!"

Hodgins nodded, not exactly sure what to say to this. He wondered what someone who looked like her was doing in a lab full of dead bodies. Fortunately for him, he was spared from having to ask this potentially awkward question by the woman herself.

"I'm the sketch artist here," she explained. "You're the new guy, right?"

Hodgins swallowed. He was going to be working with her? Hastily he stuck out a hand. "Uh…yeah. Jack Hodgins. Entomologist."

She took his hand and shook it, meeting his blue eyes with her brown ones, and Hodgins felt himself drift slightly off into fantasy land. What is this? He asked himself, furiously. What is wrong with you? You're behaving like you're mother around the poolboy! Pull yourself together! He gave himself a mental shake as Angela spoke.

"Temp—I mean, Dr. Brennan told me that you would be joining the team, and I couldn't pass up the chance to meet our new resident bug and slime guy!"

Hodgins's eyebrow quirked upwards. "Nice to meet you, too," he replied dryly. Angela laughed.

"Don't mind me!" she said. "I know how you guys are about your work! Temp is hardly a human being, and this new assistant of hers—Zach something—he's even worse. I guess I was just hoping for another non-robot to talk to around here."

Hodgins sat back down. "I'm not sure whether I'm going to be of much use to you there," he said. "But you're welcome to come by and chat. I get lonely—just me with my bugs and my slimes, and my psychiatrist gets worried when I start to talk to them. But I don't care—I only start to get concerned for myself when I give them names."

Angela gave a slightly surprised laugh and said, "I may take you up on that sometime. Oh, and heads up—we just got a call from the FBI. They're sending someone over to ask Brennan for help on a case." She grinned. "I hope he's cute. I think that things are about to get pretty interesting."

xXx

Hodgins had to shout to be heard over the din of the club. "I don't know why I didn't agree to go out with you before!" he yelled. "This is…loud!" He accepted a beer from the barman and looked at Angela, who was bouncing slightly to the music. Her attention was on the dance floor—or more importantly, on the tall, muscular, olive-skinned man who was headed right for her.

Oh, damn, Hodgins thought to himself, mentally hitting his head against the bar. Now I'm not going to have anyone to talk to for the rest of the night.

You will if you ask her to dance, said the evil part of his brain. Go on. Just do it. 'Angela, would you like to dance with me?' It's not hard at all. And she'd like to—just look at her. She'd take any excuse to get out there.

Hodgins was considering this when a deep male voice came from over his shoulder, and he realized that he was too late. "Excuse me, miss," said the man who Hodgins had spotted just a few moments earlier. "But I couldn't help noticing you. Would you like to dance?"

Angela nodded and took his outstretched hand. As he led her out onto the dance floor, she called over her shoulder, "Don't wait up for me, Jack! I'll see you on Monday!"

Hodgins nodded mutely, fuming silently as he drained the rest of his beer in one gulp. Then, vowing never to go out with Angela ever again, he walked through the undulated mass of people and out into the night.

xXx

Hodgins liked Booth. Not liked liked, like his great-uncle (the one the family never talked about) liked his "roommate," but liked as in appreciated. The agent's presence made it a great deal easier to be around Brennan, especially when she got cranky. And it was nice to hace some more testosterone around the place—Zach, though continuously present, was always off in his own little world, and he hardly counted.

It was kind of hard, though. Booth and Brennan's obvious attraction toward one another had locked the mind of Brennan's best friend perpetually on the idea of romance, and every time that Angela began going on about how cute the pair were, Hodgins found himself slipping off into his own fantasy—but one with Angela and himself.

"…and just look at how he watches her!" Angela squealed, watching Booth and Brennan from the other side of the lab. "Turn around, sweetie! See the poor man!" she urged her unhearing friend.

Hodgins said nothing but continued to work silently at his microscope, shooting occasional glances at his co-worker as he did so.

"Look at that! Look at that!" exclaimed Angela, pointing across the room. "Whenever she walks past him, he pauses and closes his eyes. He's smelling her! How weird is that?"

Hodgins became suddenly painfully aware of the fact that he was guilty of the same behavior. Raspberries and vanilla, he thought to himself. Grimly, he shook himself and focused completely on his work, tuning out the world around him. He was unaware of Angela exclaiming in the background, "And she's always looking at him in the same way, always talking to him—" she broke off, shifting uncomfortably. Hodgins did not see the pleading, longing look that she shot towards him as he bent over the microscope.

So, I hope you liked it. Maybe I'll continue if I ever come up with some more ideas. I also hope that you will review. Why? Because reviewing is showing love. We all like to be shown love.