A/N: Here's another little something-something for the cancel other plans prompt in my list. There are already several prompts with more than one story idea in my drafts.
Thanks to everyone who's been following/subscribing/reading/reviewing. I'm glad you're enjoying this little slice of the inside of my brain.
They Don't Cancel Other Plans (II)
Brennan paced the length of her office for the fourteenth time before stopping in front of her desk again and glaring at the file there in frustration. She finally relented, deciding to pack up the file and her notes about the case and take them with her. Though she was loath to admit it, she had been hoping Booth would stop by to bounce some theories off of her. She was at a loss and could use his 'gut' ideas, which she still insisted were intuitive leaps based on logic and reasoning deductions about the factual evidence.
Juggling Thai food containers, a six pack of beer and her messenger bag, Brennan tried to knock on the door, rolling her eyes when her knuckles just barely tapped the solid wood. She tried again twice more, wondering if she should just drop everything and use her key, but the frustration of the day boiled over, and she kicked the door with the toe of her boot.
It had clearly done the trick because a moment later the door swung open and Booth was standing there, looking somewhat confused before stepping forward to help her with the items in her hands.
"Bones, what are you doing here?" He asked, taking the beer over to the counter. She followed him, dropping her bag on his couch on her way past it and the take out containers onto the counter next to the beer.
"I thought we could go over the Richardson case. You know… speculate…" she muttered disdainfully, casting a withering look at his smirking face.
"My, my, my… how the mighty have fallen." He teased, and she watched him glance at the clock on his oven for the third time in as many minutes.
"Are you going out?" She asked, hoping her voice didn't sound as incredulous to him as it had to her. She hadn't noticed initially that he was wearing a navy button down shirt and some black slacks. That wasn't what he'd been wearing during the day. His hair was freshly gelled, and he looked clean shaven as well, and she felt her brain working in overdrive. Why would he be dressed to go out? "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had plans. I—I can leave if you're… uhm, busy tonight."
Booth seemed to follow her eyes over his state of dress before looking back up to meet her gaze. "What? Out? Me?" He sounded unsure, and she furrowed her brow. "No… no I wasn't going out." He told her, and she eyed him speculatively.
"You usually wear sweats for a night in…" she reminded him slowly. "Are you wearing aftershave?" She added, tilting her chin toward the alluring scent that had begun to waft toward her.
"I… was out." He told her. "I'm home now."
"I can see that." She replied, though she sensed something was amiss. "Where did you go?" She asked, and watched as he strode over to the cupboard to get some plates.
"What?" He asked, though she knew he'd heard her. This was something he'd taught her in the interrogation room. When a suspect is asked a direct question, and they don't have a plausible lie ready to go, they say 'what?'. Sweets had insisted it was involuntary for some people, but they both had agreed that it was a way for the liar to buy time to come up with something to say. "I just had some errands to run." He told her, placing the plates on the counter in front of her.
"Oh." She said, watching his movements carefully. He wasn't making eye contact - red flag. "You're sure I'm not… interrupting anything?" She asked, she felt guilty for hoping he'd continue saying no, though she was quite certain she had interrupted his plans— whatever they were.
"Bones, I assure you, I am just as much a boring workaholic as you are, but a guy's gotta pamper himself once in a while, all right?" He told her with a laugh, smoothing a preening hand over his perfectly coiffed hair. "Listen, you get set up. I'm gonna go throw on some sweats." He told her, throwing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his bedroom.
She nodded, helping herself to the bottle opening in his kitchen drawer.
…
"I ordered extra rice rolls. I know you were particularly enamoured with them last time." Her voice called to him as he plopped down onto the end of his bed and pulled out his cell phone.
'Really sorry to have to cancel tonight. Work stuff - rain check?'
He stared at the message for a long moment before finally hitting send, tossing the phone onto his bed and walking over to his dresser. He selected his favourite sweatpants and a faded t-shirt and tossed them onto the end of his bed before looking for the smaller pair with the good drawstring that Bones usually borrowed. Locating them and grabbing a sweatshirt from his closet, he tossed those on the bed too and went about changing.
When he walked back into the living room, she had already set everything up on his coffee table, kicked off her heels and removed her pantyhose. "I left some sweats on the bed if you want to change out of that." He told her, raising an amused brow as she tried to get up off of the floor in her tight pencil skirt.
"Thanks." She muttered, brushing past him and closing the door to his bedroom behind her.
…
Brennan stood by Booth's bed and unzipped her skirt, letting it drop and pool around her feet before stepping out of it and unbuttoning her blouse. She contemplated the size of the sweatshirt he'd left out for a moment before unclasping her bra and dropping it in the pile of clothes on the floor next to her.
A muffled ring caught her attention, and she sifted through the clothes on Booth's bed in search of the culprit, locating his phone and cringing for a moment. "B—" She started to call him before realizing she was standing around in nothing but her panties. Hitting the answer button, she brought the phone to her ear. "Agent Booth's phone; this is Dr. Temperance Brennan." She answered politely.
"Oh, Dr. Brennan, hello. It's Catherine… Bryar." The disembodied voice on the other end of the line replied. "I was just looking for Seeley." She added.
"Yes, that would be a logical assumption since you've called his phone." Brennan agreed. "Unless you were trying to call Santa Claus." She added, smiling at her humorous banter. "Because… Santa Claus is a myth, and you clearly dialed Booth's number…" Brennan clarified when Catherine didn't reply or acknowledge the joke.
"Right. Funny." She said, though Brennan was pretty sure she didn't mean it. "Can I speak with Seeley?" She asked after a long silence dragged over the line.
"Oh, yes, of course. He left his phone in the bed. Let me just finish getting dressed, and I'll bring it out to him." Brennan told her and moved to put the phone down without hanging up the call.
"Dr. Brennan, that's ok. I'll just talk to him later." She said, ending the call without saying 'goodbye'.
Brennan shrugged and pulled on the sweats Booth had left for her, before gathering her clothes and his phone and heading back out to the living room.
…
"Please, make yourself comfortable." Booth said, clearing his throat awkwardly when Bones' lacy bra fell on the floor while she was stuffing her clothes into her messenger bag.
"Thank you, I did." She told him, raising a challenging brow. "It's only a bra, Booth!" She teased, dangling it toward him.
"Put that thing away!" He demanded, covering his eyes with his hand and cracking his fingers just a little for one final cheeky peek. "Is that my phone?" He asked, pointing to the device in her hand.
Bones nodded, handing it to him as she lowered herself to the floor. "Yes, Dr. Bryar called for you. I would have brought it to you, but I was naked when I took the call. She said to tell you she'd call back later." She told him, and he wondered what the other half of the phone call sounded like. It's not like he completely lied, a work thing did pop up… with beer and take out in her hands. "Did you and she… I know you had planned to ask her out. Have you…?" She asked, feigning — terribly— at being casual.
"Uh… you know…" He started, watching as she seemed to study the inside of the fried rice container.
"It's okay if you did." She told him. "You said you needed to move on, right?" He told him, and it made his stomach feel like it was full of lead.
"Yea, I did." He agreed. "I, uh, yea, we've talked about it. Just haven't found the time to go out yet." He told her.
"Oh, I see." Bones replied, her eyes never meeting his.
Booth felt his phone vibrate in his hand and looked down at the new text message notification on his screen. He opened it, holding the phone below the height of the coffee table so Bones wouldn't see. She was seemingly engrossed in the fried rice in front of her anyways, too busy avoiding his eyes as much as he was avoiding her's now.
He read the message from Catherine and tried to keep his features schooled.
'No problem, but let's just forget the rain check. Enjoy your evening Agent Booth.'
"Something wrong?" Bones asked, and he looked up to find her crystal gaze boring into him, her head tilted just slightly in silent question.
"Yea, somethings wrong. You're gonna eat all of the fried rice again, aren't you?" He asked, reaching for the box in her hand.
"What?! You finished it last time!" She accused him with an affronted expression, holding it out of his reach.
"Only because you ate most of it before I even got my hands on it." He replied defensively, glad to have successfully distracted her and himself from his failed attempt at moving on.
