That button. He knew he shouldn't have, but he'd spent most of the ride, heck, most of the morning, staring at that button. That one, unremarkable, top button.
Giving himself a mental shake, Booth returned his attention to the road. Unfortunately, he was in the middle of a queue of a long line of traffic waiting for the lights to change. Deciding he needed something else to distract him, he stole a quick glance at his partner's face.
Temperance Brennan was glaring out of the passenger seat window. Her posture was stiff and he could see a muscle working in her jaw. He sighed quietly. After all, no need to give her an excuse to turn the anger on him.
His partner's hair was down, flowing over her shoulders and glinting in the afternoon sun. Her mood had painted a light pink spot on either cheek. She looked breathtaking...but it still wasn't enough to wrench Booth's attention from that captivating button.
Brennan was wearing a dark blouse and flowy white skirt. Booth's explanation was that she had attempted to dress summery but simply couldn't bring herself to dress from head to toe in pale colours. Not that he was complaining. Because that blouse had a button…
It was a relatively low-cut blouse. It was tasteful enough for work but still showed the beginnings of the swell of her cleavage. And that top button…oh, that top button was hanging on by a thread. Sometime during the course of the morning Booth had noticed this interesting development and hadn't been able to think rationally since. If that button decided to make a break for it…all his Christmases would come at once. Booth grunted in frustration. The devil himself was holding that button in place.
Some time later, Booth pulled into the car park at the Jeffersonian. He turned the keys in the ignition and, bracing himself, faced his partner.
"So…"
Brennan glared. "So, Booth, that was a complete waste of time."
He nodded, wearing his best sympathy face. It did nothing to improve her mood.
"The guy told us nothing. It was pointless. The worst part was, I couldn't figure out if he was lying or if he really didn't know anything or…"
"Bones, the other agents will keep questioning him. They'll figure out whether or not he knows something. No big deal."
"But it is a big deal." Brennan threw her hands up to emphasise her point, her body jerking forward with the vehemence of her protest.
Booth would never know if her hand had caught off the button, if the force of her movement had been the last straw or if it was simply divine intervention that caused that top button to finally pop off. He didn't really care either.
Brennan's mouth formed a little 'o' as a substantial amount of cleavage was suddenly on display, as was part of her bra.
"Very nice, Bones."
Brennan glowered.
"Oh, no, I didn't mean your…not that that's not very nice...it is…they are…I meant your…em…" Realising there was nothing he could say to alleviate the situation, Booth hastily picked up the jailbreak button, handed it to her and shuffled out of the car.
Brennan pushed her way out of the door, slamming it behind her. Booth locked the car and moved around to his partner's side. He was very sorry to see that she was now holding the fabric closed with her right hand.
Scowling darkly, Brennan began striding towards the front of the building. Booth jogged after her.
"I don't know why you're so mad, Bones. There'll be a safety pin or something in the lab to fix you up. And, can I just take the opportunity to say, red really suits you. Looked kinda satiny as well. Didn't know you had it in you, Bones."
A snort from his partner told him this hadn't helped. Oh well. He hadn't really expected it to.
"I feel I should point out, though, that it seems you have made a terrible fashion faux pas."
In spite of herself, her interest was piqued and she turned to face him, a questioning look across her features. He'd started this; he might as well finish it.
"I just mean that, for a lady, the "upper underwear" should match the "lower underwear". It's just, that skirt is so white, almost see through white, that it couldn't possibly be housing any red underwear beneath it. Tut, tut Bones. Red and white? You should know better. So, my point is…" He trailed off, index finger mid accusatory wiggle. It had seemed funny when he started it.
Brennan gave him a withering glance, as if he had just made an extremely ridiculous argument. She resumed her striding once more.
Booth slowed to a saunter, pleased with himself. The look on her face had been so incredibly worth it.
Her voice carried back to him.
"There's one fatal flaw in your argument, Booth."
"Uh huh. What's that, Bones?"
"You assume I'm wearing "lower underwear"."
There was a resounding crash as Seeley Booth completely failed to recognise the object before him and walked, smack-bang, into the front door.