A/N: Wow! I am seriously overwhelmed by the response to the last chapter! I mean, I thought it was cute, of course, but you guys have given my ego a considerable boost, which was much appreciated :-D
Hopefully this one is worthy of following Booth's "Walk Like An Egyptian" dance :-P
----------
They sat together at the bar at Wong Foo's, comfortably conversing as they ate a late dinner after a long day. They discussed the case they had just closed, talked about their plans for the upcoming weekend, cracked a few jokes, and just enjoyed sharing a meal with each other.
"And then Russ would grab a hold of my wrist," Brennan demonstrated the maneuver, smiling cheerfully as she told the story about her childhood, "pull me all the way across the backyard, and spin me around. My feet would go flying…" Her arms shot out with an energy that matched the brightness of her eyes, and Booth grinned at her enthusiasm.
The gesture turned out to be a bad move. Brennan's hand connected with the beer Booth had been drinking with dinner, knocking it over and splashing foamy liquid all over the FBI agent.
He jumped up off the stool he'd been sitting on and looked ruefully down at his soaked shirt and tie. "Damn it!"
Brennan sprung into action, grabbing all the napkins within reach, hesitantly moving toward Booth before deciding better of it and mopping up the puddles on the bar as best she could. "I'm so sorry Booth…"
Sid spied the accident and brought towels, cleaning up the mess after shooting a withering glare at the anthropologist.
"Sid! I'm sorry," she apologized again. "I'm usually so careful…"
The owner merely shook his head and continued wiping up the spilled beer, handing Brennan a dry towel which she tentatively passed off to her partner.
"I'm so sorry," she repeated, more softly this time.
Booth accepted the towel from her and tried to sponge off his clothing. "No, it's okay," he told her in a resigned voice. "My jacket escaped," he gestured toward the suit coat sitting on the stool beside him, "and my pants aren't too bad. It's just my shirt and tie, and I have a thousand white dress shirts."
"What about the tie?" she asked quietly.
"Hmm?" He glanced up from his cleaning efforts and caught the look in her eyes. "The tie?" He sighed and flipped up the garment in question between two fingers, frowning at the bleeding colors. "In our line of work, I should know better than to wear one that can get wrecked so easily."
He tried to flash her a smile, but it came out as a half-hearted smirk and she saw right through it. "I really am sorry," she said again, not knowing what else to do.
They stayed a few minutes more, re-seated in a dryer area of the bar, finishing their meal in silence before Booth bid Brennan a polite good-night. She followed him out shortly after, sitting behind the wheel of her car for a long time, wondering how to put things right.
The next afternoon, after a little internet searching and some lame excuses to the staff at the lab, Brennan left work early and headed for the nearest men's clothing store. She parked her car in the lot and marched confidently to the door, swinging it open and striding over to the tie display.
Once there, her eyes roamed over the mass of ties for sale and she wavered. There are so many! Taking a deep breath and shooing away the salesmen, she began her quest to find a suitable replacement for the tie that she had damaged.
She spent hours sorting through cottons and silks, regular ties and clip-ons, stripes, polka dots, plaids, dark colors, pastels, novelty ties, holiday ties, and uniform ties. Each time she found a contender she'd hold it up in front of her and imagine it on Booth, squinting her eyes and ignoring the looks the other customers were giving her. Each time she'd frown and shake her head, knowing he would never wear the tie she held, then move on to the next.
It was dinner time before she hit on a winner, her lips curving into a satisfied smile when she pictured Booth wearing it. She took it to the counter, allowing one of the salesmen to wrap it in a proper gift box, congratulating herself on a job well done.
Arriving at Booth's place a half-hour later, Brennan noticed the darkened windows and immediately chastised herself for not calling ahead. What if he isn't home? Or worse…what if he isn't home alone
"I'm already here," she said aloud. "I might as well knock."
She stepped up to the door and knocked quietly, almost hoping no one would answer. This was a bad idea, she kept thinking. I can just give it to him tomorrow…
"Bones?" a male voice asked as the door swung open. "What are you doing here?"
"I can go if I'm interrupting," she told him, the words tumbling from her mouth as she noted the jeans and undershirt he wore, his feet bare and hair tousled. "It isn't important anyway."
She turned to go, but Booth caught her by the shoulder and stopped her. "It must have been important if you came all the way over here," he smiled.
"I'm not bothering you?"
"Not yet." His dark eyes twinkled as he spoke. "But give it a few minutes."
Brennan eyed him suspiciously as she moved past him into the living room, the wisecrack distracting her from the light pressure of his hand on her back. She waited for him to close the door, then held the tie box out to him. "This…is for you."
Booth's eyes fell on the package and his surprise returned. "For me?"
She nodded nervously. "Yes. I-I was careless at dinner yesterday, and I wanted to apologize."
"You already apologized, Bones. You didn't have to get me anything," he told her, accepting the box and raising his eyes to hers.
She resisted the urge to condemn the use of her nickname, reminding herself that she was here to make amends not cause and argument. Instead she continued, "Maybe I didn't have to, but I felt bad about ruining your tie and I wanted to…to make it up to you."
The twinkle reappeared in his eyes and he grinned teasingly at her. "I'm impressed—your people skills are improving."
Brennan pressed her lips together and held back another biting comment. "Just open the box, Booth."
He laughed and slipped the lid from his package, pulling back the tissue paper and lifting his gift to eye level. As he studied the tie his smile became softer with a new appreciation for his partner.
"What do you think?" she asked, the anxiety creeping up into her voice. "Do you like it?"
He turned the tie slowly around, running his thumb over the silky material and allowing his smile to widen again. "I do like it," he replied. "This is a really nice tie, Bones."
A relieved sigh escaped her lips and her shoulders relaxed. "Good, because I spent all afternoon looking for just the right one…"
"You did?"
This time Brennan blushed, hoping she wasn't giving him the wrong idea. "It wouldn't do any good to get you a tie you'd never wear. What's the point of that?"
Booth chuckled, placing the tie back in its box and stepping toward his partner. Reaching out, he gently brushed a hand down her arm, squeezing her elbow affectionately before letting go. "I really like the tie," he repeated genuinely, his voice low and firm. "Thank you, Temperance."
Knowing he only used her given name when he wanted to make a point, she returned the smile contentedly. "You're welcome."