I am SO incredibly sorry for the massive delay...I have truly run out of ideas for SS...for the moment. I'm hoping to come back to it, I just don't have the inspiration at this point in time. So, I'm gonna officially declare this "on hiatus"...it just didn't seem fair to do that without leaving you guys a little somethin'!
Good lord...this was only ever meant to be about 5 chapters...funny how these things work out!
I don't own Bones. If I did, I'd pay the writers and get this marvellous show back on the air.
The following day, Brennan sat scribbling furiously at her desk. She was currently using her third pen, having snapped the other two because she was pushing down on them so hard, and on her sixth piece of paper, as she had already ripped the other five clean in half with the excessive force she was using to scrawl her words.
Needless to say, she was peeved.
She had attempted to write up some reports on her computer but the keyboard hadn't taken very kindly to the pounding of her fingers, so she figured making a note of things the old fashioned way would be safer. This wasn't necessarily true.
She was so engrossed in her little display of anger that she didn't hear her partner knock timidly on the door. Nor did she hear it open slightly as he poked an eye fearfully in to gage the explosive potential of the situation. Unfortunately for Booth, an eye alone wasn't sufficient so the door had to pushed the relevant amount in to allow for his head to wiggle through.
This movement she noticed.
She turned a ferociously furious glare on him. He could feel his knees quiver slightly in spite of himself.
Part of him wanted to run, screaming, for the hills and never set foot in the Jeffersonian again, but the other, more stubborn part (the part he knew would one day eventually win out when he thought about telling Brennan just how much he cared about her) refused to back down.
He strode into the room and shut the door.
Her eyes widened slightly at his persistence.
A moment or two of silence passed before she carelessly brushed a few locks of hair out of her face and drawled, "What do you want, Booth?"
To Brennan's amazement, the man seemed to physically puff out in frustration, much like she imagined a particularly indignant blowfish would.
"So, what, Bones, we're just not going to have a normal conversation now? I'm gonna have to need a solid, work-orientated reason every time I want to see you?"
She bounced her head from side to side in a very non-committal manner. When Booth raised his eyebrows incredulously she let out a low humming sound.
Shaking his head, he clarified through clenched teeth, "Look, I don't want anything to get in the way of our friendship so how about I just forget about the fact that you basically blurted out a very intimate detail to a roomful…"
Surprisingly enough, he didn't seem quite ready to forget just yet.
Brennan also didn't seem to be capable of forgetting because she cut him off before his sentence was even finished.
"I blurted out…! Well you never said it was a secret! You didn't talk about it, didn't act like it was a big deal so how was I supposed…"
Booth quickly ran a hand across his forehead and waved her silent. This blame game was getting them nowhere. They were going to simply have to rise above the petty disagreement if they were to have any chance of getting back to normal.
"Ok, fine, well then, how 'bout we say that things were said that shouldn't have been and that we're both sorry?"
Brennan thought about this and pursed her lips for a second. Finally she nodded curtly.
"But I'm not sorry."
Booth threw up his hands in frustration and glared at the stubborn woman before him.
"Fine. Well, then we'll just have to agree to disagree."
Brennan began moodily pulling on a non-existent thread on the hem of her top. She nodded once.
Sighing in relief, Booth allowed his shoulders to finally drop. It felt as though he hadn't lowered them in about a week.
"It's all your fault though, Booth. You started it."
He had been mad to think she'd let it go without a fight. Well then, neither would he.
"My fault? How is it my fault?"
"You looked at me with those eyes."
Booth blinked. "I…I looked at you with my eyes?"
"Yes." She shot him a withering look; as though she was disgusted he wasn't grasping the logic of her simple argument.
"And then you made those little growling sounds…like this…" She let out something that sounded rather impressively like a lion warning off intruders.
"I did not!"
"You did too!"
"Well…well you started making these moaning noises that were all mixed in with your little sighs…didn't know what to think…"
At that, he started making rather breathless cries of extreme pleasure.
Brennan's face flushed and her eyes narrowed. She moved out from behind her desk, continuing the bizarre growling sounds as she did. Booth therefore saw no reason in stopping his own little satisfied gasps.
"I have never made noises like that in my life, Booth."
His eyes glinting dangerously and his mouth curling in a rather sinister smile he stated, "Well then you obviously haven't been with very…capable men."
Her eyes widened at this claim. She faltered for a moment then moved so suddenly that she was pressed up against him before he knew what happened. Booth was so startled that he briefly forgot all about his satisfied noises.
"Well at least I wasn't the one trying to cop a feel of the other person's butt."
At that, she slid a hand around Booth's body and took a fairly decent handful of his posterior.
Booth made no attempt to push her hand away. In fact, if anything, in his surprise, he even slightly backed up into the embrace. In his surprise, of course. He did, however, have the sense of mind to bellow, "I did NOT cop a feel of your butt! I didn't touch your…you know…there."
Brennan loosened her grip ever so slightly, her eyes flashing.
"Well, you were gonna. Your hands were moving south and I'm fairly sure I know the reason why..."
She squeezed a little harder and resumed her growling.
Booth purpled and began making pleasurable cries once more.
"Well if we're gonna get into the things people might or might not have been thinking about doing then I might as well do this."
With that he looped his arms behind her head, trailing his fingers gently off the bare skin exposed between her hairline and her top. He barely registered the frisson of excitement that shot through Brennan's body at the contact. He was too busy focusing on the fact that their faces were now in extremely close proximity.
Within kissing range, one might say.
Slightly breathless, Brennan managed to gasp, "I would never wrap my arms around your neck."
His eyes glinted, challenging her.
She ignored the bait and continued, "You, on the other hand, definitely wrapped a hand around my waist."
She lifted up her free hand, the one that wasn't currently clamped on his butt, and wrapped it around his middle, pulling their bodies even closer.
"Well," Booth had to lick his lips here: his mouth was suddenly very dry, "Well, you had your chest all pushed out up against me and your butt sticking out nearly into the next cubicle."
He shoved his chest forward quite an exaggerated amount and stuck his behind out so much that his lower back was almost parallel to the floor. Brennan would have surely toppled over if their bodies weren't doing such a good job of supporting one another.
Neither seemed quite sure what to do now. Both were somewhat disorientated and flushed by their closeness, their warm bodies touching off and clutching at one another while their breaths mingled and fluttered against their burning faces. The moans and growling continued.
Luckily for them, a certain artist solved this particular conundrum for them.
Angela had been growing quite concerned about her friend's foul humour. She had a pretty good idea about what had caused it and when her suspicion turned up in the flesh, looking rather determined, her trepidation increased.
Booth had disappeared into Brennan's office, well, he had half-slunk, half-fallen in, but entered it he had. Almost immediately terse voices were heard, harsh judgements being exchanged.
The volume of the voices had increased and there had been a thumping as though someone was manoeuvring around furniture in a very angry manner. This was followed by an ominous silence.
Knowing Brennan as she did and Booth to a somewhat lesser degree, Angela was fairly certain they would not have succumbed to their intense repressed feelings once more. Much as she loathed admitting to it, she knew that particular bud would take its time in bearing fruit.
Safe in this knowledge, she was instead worried about the pair's physical health. There was a fairly good chance they had simply killed each other. So, Angela had to do the responsible thing and check.
Blowing out a quick breath of air and allowing her hands one last and final shake of restless nerves, she squared her shoulders and pushed open the door.
She needed a moment to process the scene before her. Booth and Brennan were standing very close; intimately close, in front of one another.
Brennan was making some, rather realistic, deep animal growling sounds in the back of her throat. Booth was panting and moaning at such an exaggerated rate he seemed like a cartoon character on some serious narcotics.
Brennan had one hand clamped very firmly on Booth's butt. Booth had his chest pushed forward to such an extent that Brennan was nearly bending backwards to accommodate him. His butt was pushed out into the middle of next week, making it rather difficult for Brennan to maintain her vicelike grip on it. Indeed, Booth's body was so contorted, he looked rather like a bizarre backwards z shape, tipped over. Booth had his hands hooked behind Brennan's head, while her non-butt-gripping hand was looping his waist.
It took a moment for the pair to notice her. When they did, all they could do was stand, frozen and slack-jawed, neither able to think of a reasonable explanation to justify their current position.
Angela spun on the spot, eyes like a deer in the headlights. This was too weird, even for her. There wasn't a sound as she stepped through the doorway once more. The silence continued as she pulled the door toward her retreating figure, making her parting shot all too audible for the stunned partners.
"You guys need help."