It turns out I only had one other chapter in me; I am out of ideas once more. There's nothing too explicit in this, but as it is fairly suggestive, I've changed the rating to an M.
Tragically, Bones does not belong to me
"Ok, what the hell happened?!"
Angela stood in the doorway of Brennan's office, whizzing her head back and forth between the two disgruntled partners.
Both adopted exaggerated expressions of complete innocence, mock-gesturing between each other as though to say "Who? Us?!". Booth went so far as to scoff at her words, flicking his eyes at the ceiling as he did.
Their pantomime was somewhat hindered by the fact that Brennan sat at her desk furiously massaging the back of her head, while Booth, sitting on the couch, had hurriedly covered his lap with a decorative cushion, and a visible grimace, when Angela entered the room.
Angela pursed her lips and tapped her foot expectantly. Both partners were suddenly very interested in looking anywhere and everywhere but at her or each other. Booth even attempted to hum.
The tapping increased.
Eventually Booth mumbled something about "nothing happened...very busy...things to do..." while making an abrupt and valiant attempt to stand, before collapsing back just as suddenly with a strangled whimper.
"Well, Agent Hot Stuff, you're either melting or peeing yourself there, so something happened."
Booth gave a start, followed by a roar, as he attempted to bend to examine the floor underneath him. He faked nonchalance as he shook his head and pursed his lips in what he evidently thought was a convincing manner, tears shining in his eyes.
"Oh, no, don't worry, it's just an ice pack, Angela," Brennan offered helpfully. Booth swore.
Angela locked eyes with Brennan, ignoring Booth's frantic head shaking at his partner.
"Oh, really? So what happened?"
Brennan's eyebrows were practically meeting in the middle, evidently at a loss over Booth's agitated actions.
"We had just driven back and parked..."
Here, Angela physically turned her back on Booth, effectively blocking him from Brennan's eyeline.
"We had been exchanging mutual compliments for much of the journey back..."
Angela rolled her eyes with a huff, muttering "flirting, Sweetie, you were flirting" under her breath. Brennan either didn't hear or chose to ignore her.
"And when we parked, the car park was practically deserted. The mutual compliments..." (at this point "flirting!" was audibly hissed from the doorway) "progressed to kissing and some very satisfactory touching."
Booth appeared to suffer a puncture at the other side of the room. By sheer force of will, Angela avoided acknowledging this, nodding encouragingly at Brennan.
"Booth particularly enjoyed this. This was evident when I moved to his..."
A mini explosion occurred behind Angela that sounded suspiciously like a pre-pubescent boy squealing the word "BONES!"
Brennan raised her hand in confusion.
"You don't talk about...!" he hissed between gritted teeth.
"Why not? It was the raison d'être. The elephant in the room, as it were," Brennan advised with a nod and a smile, obviously quite pleased with her analogy.
Behind Angela, Booth was visibly heard to perk up.
"Elephant, huh?" he growled with an audible smirk.
"Metaphorical elephant," Brennan acknowledged, grinning at him winningly.
Angela turned slowly so she could study the partners, glancing significantly between the two.
"So, the...ah...elephant's trunk was standing to attention, right?" she mused, fighting hard to keep the laughter out of her voice.
Booth spluttered and delicately rearranged the cushion on his lap, mumbling that he had no idea what she could be referring to while simultaneously insisting that nobody had mentioned elephants or any elephant-related appendages prior to this moment.
Angela chewed on her lip and took a second to compose herself.
"Sure they didn't, big guy. Anyway, things were going well and then...?" she asked, with a raise of her eyebrows at Brennan.
"A car alarm went off," Brennan sighed mournfully.
The artist tutted in sympathy.
"It startled me and I hit my head back on the steering wheel. Hard."
"I bet that wasn't the only thing that was..."
Booth stammered something incomprehensible and surprisingly musical over Angela's words.
"Ah, pipe down, Dumbo!" Angela barked, making an impatient swatting gesture in Booth's general direction. Booth made such an annoyed harumph in response that he ended up giving himself a violent coughing fit.
Brennan blinked in confusion, glancing between the others for answers.
Angela rolled her eyes at Booth and turned her attention back to Brennan, clucking sympathetically at her.
Booth huffed over on the sidelines, eyes streaming. Angela furtively glanced at him and increased the rate and volume of her comforting noises, trying not to choke at the progressively bug-eyed and outraged look on Booth's face.
Just a little bit longer...
Finally, her actions paid off. Booth erupted with a screech.
"You had it easy! Hit on the back of the head! Not a big deal! You bit me!"
At this the artist let out an audible gasp and squeezed her thighs together in sympathy. Booth's eyeballs were now practically exiting his skull as he nodded excessively along with her actions, gesturing towards her significantly.
Brennan looked as though she'd swallowed a lemon.
"I. Didn't. Mean. To." Brennan spat through gritted teeth. Angela's sympathies, however, had see-sawed wildly in the opposite direction.
She approached Booth slowly, face a picture of concern. The federal agent, however, pre-emptively jammed the cushion down harder onto his lap.
"Are you alright? Do you need...me...anyone...anything?" she implored, somewhat unconvincingly. Booth's head was frantically shaking from side to side while glancing repeatedly down at his lap, as though to make sure all parts were still covered and attached.
"Ok, well, I'm going to go," Angela murmured as she started to make for the door, "but if you need anything, anything at all, just let me know," she pleaded, taking another step towards the wounded Booth to emphasise the compassion behind her words. Booth piled on a second cushion in response.
By the time Angela had closed the door, Booth had constructed a four-cushion fort around his crotch and had begun a hissed and animated argument with his aggrieved partner.
Oh, to be a fly on the wall when those two finally make it between the sheets. One thing was for certain, it wouldn't be boring.