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Angela stared blankly down at the string of numbers that had flashed across her computer screen for the fifth time now. She had been sitting at her desk for the past thirty minutes or so. Her mind was still unable to retain the information she needed to further home the tests results she had just received from the Angelatron's latest simulation. It was either that, or it just didn't want to. The unsolicited memories of her and Brennan entering her mind weren't exactly helping. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she slammed the space key with her finger to replay the animation, knowing that as hard as she willed it, the variables would remain the same without manual input. Drumming her fingers against her cheek she looked lethargically down at the test results for the sixth time. The last her motivation finally shattered to pieces and she defiantly slammed her laptop shut and lowered her head in defeat to her desk.
Across the hall in the Bone Room, Brennan was suffering from a similar predicament. No progress of any kind in any direction, despite her meticulous analysis, only seemed to heighten her anxieties, which seemed to manifest in repressed, erratic behavior. The anthropologist gave a deflated sigh as she found no inconsistencies, and lowered the bone she was holding back onto the table where she had found it; only to pick up another to start again. As she reassessed the vertebral column for the third time today, she recounted the similarities of their victim, the now identified, 37 year-old Cassandra Flynn, and Angela. She couldn't seem to get her off her mind. At this point, she wasn't entirely sure whether that was a good or bad thing. Pursing her lips, her hands tightened to fists pressed against the illuminated table.
Letting out a short, irked sigh through her nose, she conceded in her lack of findings, reminding herself that no discoveries of any kind very often implied that her team had done an exceptional job cataloging. She peeled off her gloves and tossed them haphazardly in the direction of the garbage can, watching them land askew by the door. She stared down at the poorly discarded equipment and for a moment, she debated opening her mouth to berate the inanimate object for betraying her before she could admonish herself for such a ludicrous immediate thought. Instead, she crossed the room and scooped the gloves off the floor to properly dispose of them.
As Brennan exited the Bone Room to return to her own office, she caught a glimpse of Angela; her head facedown on her desk, her overcoat folded into a cushion. So it seemed Brennan wasn't the only one having a difficult time at work today. However disconcerting Angela's current condition, it did not sway Brennan from her course back to her office. Seeing how Angela appeared to be suffering from immense fatigue for the past several days, she ultimately decided it would be best not to disturb her. Not by herself. Not after the night she spent at Angela's. She shook the thought from her mind and kept walking.
Brennan draped her lab coat over the back of her swivel chair and practically fell into the seat. She ignored the dull buzz of her phone in the pocket of her slacks, assuring herself that the text was of no immediate importance. It was probably just her editor.
The image of Angela draped sleepily over her desk entered Brennan's mind again. Angela's dark hair fell in loosely curled ringlets that veiled her face, which Brennan could only imagine, held a tranquil expression. An expression she had seen once before. It was a sight that never truly left her mind since the night they spent together.
The gently sloped curve of Angela's waist and hips rose and fell slightly with each gentle breath she took. Brennan lay awake in the dark, the room illuminated only by the moonlight shining through the slats in the blinds. Her somewhat inebriated mind swam with vivid recollections of the events that transpired that night. Angela's trembling body at the mercy of her touch, the moans that left her lips with each stroke of Brennan's talented fingers, eventually pushing her to orgasm... She had never really taken a liking to her name, but that was until she had heard it as a plead for release from the lips of someone she hadn't realized so desperately desired her. That thought alone was enough to send waves of arousal rippling down her spine, straight to her core and Brennan was forced to avert her train of thought.
Stirring in her sleep, Angela shifted onto her side, her distinguished features highlighted by the soft glow of the moon. Finally allowing her eyes to rest upon the form of her sleeping colleague, Brennan allowed herself to further study the details of Angela's resting face. The soft curve of her brow, the angularity of her jaw, the supple skin of her rosy cheeks and the defined bone underneath. Brennan felt her pulse quicken despite her willing for it not to. She recognized the blossoming sensation in her stomach and the fluttering of her heart. Attraction. Mutual attraction. She couldn't help but scrutinize. It was who she was; what her career required her to be. But she could find no faults. A sensible deduction, as a dislike for certain physical features was a subjective conclusion anyhow. However, this fact did not comfort her, on the contrary, really.
Perhaps this was her realizing that a little irrational action was not, in fact, as unpleasant as she had initially made it out to be. Or perhaps this was her realizing that she wrongly interfered with a process she shouldn't have; that in doing so, she unknowingly gave Angela the most mind-blowing orgasm she'd ever experienced.
Perhaps this was her realizing that she enjoyed being intimate with another woman.
Brennan sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, staring blankly down at a spot on the carpet. This was all being blown entirely out of proportion... Whether these affections were a side effect of her own hormones or the alcohol, she didn't know. But they alone were simply too irrational to be considered further. Feelings like these were not something that necessitated that one delve into them for facts. They were exactly as Angela had told her, and that's what scared her.
Brennan, by choice, had never truly been in touch with the 'science' of psychology, and finding herself questioning her reasoning behind her own behavior was growing more alarming the more she thought about it.
She winced slightly at the pounding in her head that could've only come from the copious consumption of alcohol. She pushed herself off the bed and padded quietly out of the room and to the kitchen for a glass of water. Brennan stood in the low kitchen light, in front of the cracked freezer door, chilled to the bone; only now realizing she was still in her underwear.
Plucking two ice cubes from the ice tray that she had set on the countertop, she quickly turned to the faucet, only to send the plastic tray crashing to the floor, scattering ice across the kitchen tiles with a clatter. Brennan swore aloud and immediately knelt to the floor, gathering the spilled contents in one hand and tossing them aimlessly into the sink. Fearing that she had woken Angela, she quickly refilled the ice tray with water and set it carefully back in its place. A soft inquisitive voice from behind shook her and she nearly dropped the glass.
"Sweetie? Is everything okay?"
Brennan shut off the faucet and placed the glass on the counter, turning to face Angela, leaning against the dishwasher.
"Yes... It seems that I've dropped your ice tray in my haste to get back to bed." Brennan admitted slowly, her grip tensing on the glass on her hand, raising her eyes to look at her friend.
Angela had a small, silk robe wrapped loosely around her body, her hair was tousled; as if she had just run a hand through it, and her eye makeup had been smudged. However Brennan couldn't take her eyes off her.
"Oh... Was wondering what that noise was." Angela remarked sleepily, moving further into the kitchen. As the artist stepped closer to her, Brennan could feel the warmth rising in her cheeks and her resolve begin to shrink. Angela's voice was barely above a whisper as she murmured softly,
"Y'know... Black suits you very well."
A flash of contact at the small of her back. Another at the base of her jawline.
When their lips touched, Angela had alienated any space between them. So much so that Brennan needed only raise her head to level their eyes. Against the pleads of her subconscious, Brennan's body reacted instantaneously; her eyes fluttering shut, her hand slipping into Angela's hair. Angela was spurred by the soft moan that escaped Brennan's parted lips and lowered her mouth to Brennan's jawline, planting slow, sensual kisses leading up to her ear.
"Ange..." Brennan pleaded breathlessly, growing more and more disheartened by the direction in which they were going. This only seemed to urge Angela further as the feather-light kisses traveled towards her collar.
"Ange." Brennan repeated, firmer this time, moving her hands to Angela's shoulders.
"Hm?" Angela purred against the silken skin of Brennan's neck.
At the moment, Brennan wasn't sure whether it was safe to admit to herself that she was enjoying it. All she knew was that as much as she didn't want Angela to stop, her mind screamed at her to reassess the events from earlier before delving into another encounter before it was too late.
"I..." Brennan began, but found herself momentarily subdued, sighing as Angela suckled softly on her pulse point. Her grip tightened slightly on Angela's shoulder and she forced herself to pull away, holding Angela at arms length.
"I'm sorry, I just..." A pause to recollect her thoughts. "I have a lot that I need to think about."
Angela stared at Brennan for a moment. She pursed her lips, internalizing on the signals that Brennan was sending her before she conceded and nodded her head understandingly. Although it caused her pain to accept that Brennan needed space to sort her feelings out, it was what she knew Brennan needed in order to move from this point. Otherwise she'd be stuck, regardless of the option she chose. Knowing Brennan, finalizing a decision like this would take time... Months even. But the concept of certainty was one of the few things that comforted her. Angela felt the heat rise in her cheeks as her hands toyed with the sash of her robe.
Once again she had acted irrationally and pushed Brennan too far.
"Of course. I... I wasn't..." She stammered, running a hand through her hair, trying to push past the quavering in her voice. "I wasn't thinking. That was rash of me. I'm sorry."
Brennan nodded her acceptance and pulled Angela into a gentle embrace. This time, Angela was the first to pull away.
"We should get back to bed... It's 4:47 in the morning, and we have work tomorrow."
Brennan nodded her agreement silently, trying to ignore Angela's deflated tone. Angela moved by her to get herself a glass of water, setting a gentle hand on Brennan's bare hip, pushing her aside to retrieve a glass. Brennan let out a silent gasp at the contact and immediately made to move out of Angela's way.
Brennan slipped back down the hall and back to Angela's bedroom, setting her glass down on a coaster on her bedside table before crawling back under the sheets. She hadn't meant to put a damper on the mood. She had to remind herself that Angela knew and had accepted that meaningful relationships for her were always difficult to establish. Even so, it was difficult for Brennan not to feel guilt for not being as in touch with her own emotions as her friends.
She lay silently, curled on her side for several moments, staring at the closet door before Angela settled in beside her.
She felt warmth at her back as Angela cuddled up to her shoulder.
"Is this okay?" Angela questioned softly, tentatively draping her arm over Brennan's waist, looking for any signs of discomfort. Brennan remained silent, but settled into Angela's arms, shuffling closer to her on the mattress. A small, contented sigh drifted from her lips and Brennan closed her eyes, drifting off into a peaceful slumber.
Neither of them had spoken to each other about that night since, and Brennan had still gotten nowhere in her endeavors. She was becoming more and more disconcerted by the toll it was taking on her work.
With some reluctance, she pulled her computer from her bag that she had slung over the arm of her chair and set it on her desk. She figured she might as well try to finish a chapter of her latest novel while she wasn't needed anywhere else in the lab. As she scrolled through the document, she found her eyes lazily drifting over the text, her mind refusing to retain any of the information the page. For what she accounted her vacant mind, she didn't know. But she was going to make very little, if any progress unless she isolated and came to terms with her predicament.
Perhaps it was the lack of significant findings in the case.
Or her poorly configured sleep schedule.
Or Angela.
With Angela back on her mind, Brennan heaved a silent, frustrated sigh through her nose and sat back in her desk chair, lazily swiveling herself back and forth. Tilting her head back and closing her eyes, Brennan found herself in dire need of a nap.
Surely it wouldn't be too detrimental to the working dynamic of her team if she shut her eyes for a few moments? Right?
The overworked anthropologist lowered her head to rest on top of her arms that she had folded on her desk. By the time Brennan had composed an argument to rationalize against any intrusive thoughts, she found herself drifting off…
"Brennan…"
A hint of contact flashed across her toned abdomen, trailing downwards as lips softly nipped at the shallow curve of her collar, soothing the angry, blooming marks left there only minutes before. As labored breaths and soft moans permeated the thick atmosphere, hands trailed over bare skin articulating each curve with a delicate fingertip. With her body pushed against a wall, Brennan tossed her head back with a frustrated groan, due to the loss of sufficient stimulation. Her lover's face was shrouded in shadow, but Brennan could see them clearly. Amber eyes narrowed ardently into slits glowed like coals and held her in place with a piercing stare that sent arousal rippling down her spine in waves.
"Angela…" The name was ripped from her lips as the artist leaned forward to lavish the exposed valley between her breasts with open-mouthed kisses. A single hand curled firmly around Brennan's wrist as the other brushed teasingly along the inside of her thighs. Angela's lips traveled back, past her clavicle and to the tender skin of her neck. Angling her head, spurring Angela further, a stifled cry escaped her.
"Angela… Angela!"
The artist could only chuckle in response as she retracted her hand from between Brennan's thighs. With some ingenious maneuvering, her touch lingered upon the spot where Angela knew Brennan needed her most. An enthralled grin spread slowly across Angela's features as she savored Brennan's natural reaction to her touch, her breath like fire against the anthropologist's skin. A choked moan escaped her as Angela's lips caressed her throat, moving slowly to capture Brennan's own…
The potency of the artist's touch seemed to recede, along with the image of her figure, much to her subconscious' dismay, and was slowly being replaced by a repetitive prodding at her right shoulder.
"Hey. Hey, Bones!" The voice was distant, clouded, and slowly pulling her further and further from her reverie. A low groan escaped the stirring anthropologist in protest of such movements as she raised her head from her desk.
"Mm… Angela…" Her throat was dry, unlike the rest of her body, which seemed to be swathed in moisture. Confusion began to manifest as her mind slowly regained consciousness, but quickly ebbed upon realization that her lab coat had been draped over her. Only to be replaced by immediate discomfort and disquietude as she felt the heat gathering at the crux of her thighs.
"Bones." Repeated the masculine voice which Brennan now recognized,
"Booth…?" She queried sleepily, tucking back the wayward strands of hair that had come loose from her ponytail. She squinted at the harshness of the light that pervaded her office space, which she quickly discovered the source to be her desk lamp. Switching the lamp off, Brennan swiveled in her chair to look at the agent.
"What are you—?" She began, pulling her arms through the sleeves of her lab coat.
"I sent you a text about it like half an hour ago, so when you didn't show, I thought I'd stop by to remind you in person."
A slightly flustered Brennan shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her dampened underwear were becoming more and more of a nuisance, in more ways than one. The confusion did not leave her features. Brennan wasn't entirely sure to what event her partner was referring.
"I'm guessing you forgot that we were going to lunch?" Booth inquired finally, quirking a brow as he stared down at her with an amused smirk. His tone was merely inquisitive for his own satisfaction; he knew that there was something amiss when she didn't show up at the Royal Diner.
Brennan removed her phone from her pocket to open the message.
"I'm sorry, Booth. I just... I got an insufficient amount of sleep." Brennan half-admitted. Her statement wasn't entirely false, however there was more to her current disorientation than merely an inadequate night's rest.
She rose from her chair before realizing there was no need for her to be wearing her lab coat, as she would be leaving with Booth to go to lunch anyway.
Brennan stirred absentminded spirals in her half-empty bowl of soup as she stared blankly out of the window of the diner through the slats in the blinds. Rain pattered down on the sidewalk outside, drowning out Booth as he continued on about the most recent findings at the FBI. Booth waved his fork as he posited something about fraudulent bank charges that were currently being tied to a suspect, possibly implying motive. Brennan, who didn't catch the context of the predicament, nodded her head distantly as her focus shifted down to her cup. Booth offered her a concerned look, a look she did not acknowledge and only continued to gaze intently into her tea. Her silence wasn't exactly unusual, as he knew she was rather accustomed to it, but in most cases, she would be disclosing newly found information on the case. Booth's concern had been growing exponentially in magnitude from the minute he realized Bones was running late, and her silence was not alleviating any of the stress. He bobbed his head awkwardly, hoping to catch her eye.
Ever since Brennan had stepped out of her office, her mind had been incessantly pervaded with recollections of her dream. They wouldn't be so unnerving if she had not been questioning her current relationship standing with Angela. Perhaps these were the occurrences to which Angela was referring when she disclosed her feelings for her the night theyー
"Hey... Uh, Bones?"
They were rather distracting...
Brennan raised her head,
"Hm?"
Booth raised his eyebrows and speared his pie crust with the tines of his fork,
"You doin' okay, Bones? You seem... I dunno... Distracted?"
"I'm fine." She replied with a casual shrug, lowering her gaze to the salt shaker to resume her introspection.
"Doesn't really look like it. Unless, you're waiting for uh... Mr. Salt Shaker to tell you somethin'..." Booth lifted the small, glass container off the table and shook it slightly.
Brennan always felt more confident than she looked when she lied to Booth. Of course, being the people person he was, he could always see right through her.
Brennan slowed her stirring to think. First, she debated whether any future attempts to lie to him would prove to be fruitful for either of the two parties involved. But ultimately decided now was not the ideal time to partake in such movements...
When she last spoke of a dispute between her and Angela he didn't want any part of it. His justification was made on the grounds on which he thought the two of them were far too close for a man to intervene. But this time would be different, right? Booth didn't need to know the details of her liaison... Speaking on the topic of sex in a public place caused him discomfort anyway.
"I... Have someone on my mind. That's all." Brennan concluded finally, inwardly praising her abilities to withhold unnecessary information.
"And this person has got you so wound up, you can't even focus on the case?" Booth followed immediately, leaning forward. Brennan pursed her lips. Was that meant to suggest interest, or disappointment?
"I'm not entirely sure what your tone is implying... But yes." She replied cautiously, setting down her spoon.
Booth leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. His facial expression was a convoluted mix of bemusement and enchantment. Brennan sunk her teeth into her lower lip, waiting for Booth to say something, anything. In most cases, silence brought her repose; but in the wake of anticipation, Brennan's nerves began to take over. She anxiously drummed the pads of her fingers against her thigh as she kept her eyes trained on Booth as he gathered his thoughts. From the looks of it, he didn't seem particularly enthused by the information, but what did she know of discerning emotion from facial cues?
A broad, introspective smile spread across his face as his laughter filled the diner, turning heads and slowing the habitual commotion. Furrowing her brow, Brennan uneasily shifted her cup around on the saucer before raising it to her lips, waiting for Booth's laughter to cease. When it did not, it prompted an inquiry.
"What is so funny?" She didn't know whether to feel insulted or relieved by the fact that this was very obviously amusing to him for whatever reason.
"It's about damn time, Bones." Booth quipped, as if it were obvious. The tension in Brennan's features did not taper. She continued to stare her partner down until his laughter quieted. What did he mean by 'it's about time'? Her being single was a conscious choice, what did it matter to him that she put work before her social life?
"I don't know what you mean." Brennan stated firmly, her expression unchanging.
"Look, I'm just saying that you taking interest in some guy… That's a pretty big change for you, since you don't really… Uh." Brennan shot him a piercing, analytical stare that drilled holes in his forehead prompted him to reassess his statement and he quickly backtracked. "So, who's the guy?"
Brennan opened her mouth to counter,
"W-well, Booth. It's not…" But her explanation was truncated,
"No, no. I got it. It's that guy who owns that bar downtown!"
"It's not like tha—" Brennan began,
"No, wait! It's the delivery boy you were talking about last week."
"Booth! No, it's neither of them; it's a little more… Personal than that…" She admitted, lowering her face slightly to hide the heat that rose in her cheeks. Booth's facial expression shifted from enchantment to vexation.
"Oh god, Bones please do not tell me that he's a Squint…"
"I—"
"It's that Tom guy who works in Archives, is it?" Brennan's scowl deepened, her lip curling in revulsion.
"Seriously? No!"
"Or that one tech guy… James?"
"Why would it be him?" Brennan scoffed, her tone growing more and more irritable.
"No… It is totally that security guard, Chris."
"Booth…" Brennan warned,
"Oh no… Bones." Booth's tone had lost all traces of warmth and had been replaced with severity, a kind that pleaded for an adverse answer, "Please don't tell me it's that Zack kid…"
Brennan, thoroughly fed up with Booth's heteronormative bullshit, slammed her hands against the diner table, silencing him and several tables in the immediate vicinity.
"Will you please just let me speak?!" She exclaimed finally, exasperated. After a brief moment, she recalled their current setting and how her outburst had likely alarmed many others, and she exhaled a trenchant, composed breath. Slumping back into her chair, Brennan debated whether or not the identity was worth the imminent discrepancy. However, it reassured her that Booth's reaction would compensate for his incessant prodding for information.
"…It's Angela."
Ta-da! There we have chapter 3! Thanks so much for being patient, I've been neglecting this story for such a long time... Spring break is coming up soon though, and hopefully I'll get something uploaded.