Notes: So I said I might add to this chapter, and I did. It's slightly more robust... and ever so slightly more angsty. I hope you let me know what you think.
Part II
Booth was laying on the couch watching a hockey game when Brennan emerged from her bedroom.
"I threw up," she said, as she shuffled into the room, half-mummified from the quilt wrapped tight around her.
"Again?" Booth asked, sitting up.
She fell heavily onto the couch next to him. "No. Before. I threw up in front of you."
"Actually, it was behind closed doors. Besides, it doesn't matter. We're BFFs."
"BFFs?"
"Best friends," he paused, then smirked. "Forever."
So he'd heard, Brennan thought, hoping Booth attributed the rising heat in her cheeks to the fever and not her embarrassment. Oh how she hated being sick. It made her weak and maudlin and far too uninhibited for her comfort. A memory came back to her in a flash and she groaned. Had she told Booth she thought he was hot? She closed her eyes and slid on to her side, forgetting about Booth's presence until her head landed in his lap.
"Sorry!" she exclaimed, popping back up. "I'm a little out of it."
"I like it when you're out of it," Booth grinned, and she found herself staring at his dimples, his eyes, his lips. He was probably an amazing kisser. She could just tell. Although she failed miserably at interpreting the human race in general, the sexual nature of men she found attractive came to her easily. Through Booth's bravado and overt cockiness, she could see a sensitive lover.
Then her brain, usually so quick but now slowed by fever, made the connection. Cockiness. Sex. She began to giggle in a fourteen-year-old manner. Booth's brow furrowed as he wondered what she found so funny. Again, her brain caught up to her thoughts. She was thinking about having sex with Booth! Her giggling stopped as quickly as it began, and Booth's furrow increased.
"Bones…" he said, lightly tapping on her forehead. "Everything okay in there? Has the fever scrambled your brains?"
"Something like that." She curled up at the end of the couch, pulling her blanket tight around her.
"Do you want to try to eat something?" She shook her head fiercely." A drink, maybe?"
"No."
"And to think I thought you were stubborn when you were well." She glared, and he grinned, reaching out to feel her forehead. "You're still warm."
"Forget it. I'm not taking anything. I'll sweat it out." She sighed. "I understand the biology behind it, but I still think a fever and chills is an oxymoron."
Booth chuckled. "How about a nice warm bath?" She perked up instantly, for the first time since he arrived. "Wait here."
He walked to her bathroom and started the water, looking around for the froo froo bath stuff women always had. He found a half-dozen bottles under the sink and chuckled at how even Bones, who so rarely fit the female stereotype, met this one. He sniffed each, settling on the one that reminded him the most of his Bones. Gardenia, he read off the label. What the hell was a gardenia? He shrugged as he added the bath soap to the water. It suds instantly, throwing its scent into the air.
He went back into the living room, saying, with a deep bow, "Your bath awaits."
She grinned. "I could get used to this service. Interested in hiring yourself out?"
"This is a one-time only special," he smiled back. "Enjoy it while it lasts."
Was he flirting with her? "Do all the Booth women get this treatment?" Was she flirting back?
He took her hand and helped her stand. "Only the chosen few."
Okay, maybe she needed a cold shower, not a hot bath. She felt herself blushing again, and searched for a response.
Fortunately Booth spoke up first. "Go take your bath before the tub overflows."
She dropped the blanket to the floor and headed down the hallway. She hesitated at the door. "Booth?" she called out.
"Yeah?" he responded, poking his head around the hall corner.
"Can we institute a privacy policy?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, what happens now, while I'm sick, doesn't leave this apartment.
"Sure, Bones. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas."
"I don't know what that means."
He fully rounded the corner and walked to her. "It means your secrets are safe with me. Always. Even when you're not sick."
She smiled. "Thanks." She turned back to the bathroom door, but Booth grabbed her hand. He drew her to him quickly and planted a kiss on her cheek. She felt herself grinning stupidly, and blamed the fever, the flu… Focus, Temperance, focus… "I'm going to have my bath now," she finally stammered.
"Right," Booth replied, turning down the hall, looking fairly flustered himself. It was only a kiss on the cheek, for heaven's sake.
"Booth?"
"Yeah?"
"Vegas?"
He grinned. "Vegas."
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"Bones?" he asked, knocking on the bathroom door. He heard a yelp, then water sloshing. "You okay?"
"Yeah," came her muffled reply. "I fell asleep."
"I figured. It's been about an hour."
"Really? That would explain the cold water. I'm coming out."
"Okay."
He walked to the kitchen and poured himself a drink of water, and Bones some ginger ale.
Bones emerged a minute later, examining her hands. "I lost my sebum."
"Lost your what?" Booth asked, but quickly forgot his question as he erupted into laughter at the sight of her.
"What?" she asked, annoyed.
"I'm sorry, you just don't seem like the type to wear a fuzzy pink bathrobe with… are those monkeys?"
"Yes. I like monkeys." She paused. "I call Vegas on that remark. And on the pink bathrobe in general."
"Noted," Booth replied, choking back a chuckle.
"And what does that mean, anyway," she continued, unabated, "'seem like the type'? Because I'm an educated woman I can't wear a pink bathrobe with monkeys on it?"
"Petulant."
"What?"
"That's the word I've been looking for." She looked confused. "To describe you, your mood, when you're sick." She glared and Booth shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with being petulant – once in a while. Again, a sign of your humanity."
"Because, you know, I'm really a robot," she spat before dropping onto the couch.
Booth came over to her with a plate in one hand and a glass in the other. Brennan looked skeptical. "It's just toast and ginger ale. You can't get much more bland than plain toast. And ginger…"
"Is good for nausea. I know. I'm the robot scientist, remember?"
Booth sighed. "What did you say you lost?"
"What?"
"When you came out of the bathroom, you said you lost something."
"My sebum." Booth looked blank. Brennan held up her hands showing off her wrinkled fingers. "Sebum. It's the oily stuff on your skin that keeps it from absorbing water every time it comes into contact with it. If you stay in water too long, you lose your sebum and your skin wrinkles."
"You are a wealth of information," Booth replied.
"Look," she sat up, flushed, this time, with anger. "I may not be able to rattle off whoever starred in Trek Wars, but I can name every bone in the human body. Tell me which bit of information is going to be more helpful in the real world."
"First of all, it's Star Trek, or Star Wars, although there were Trek-based wars…" Booth stopped as he saw Brennan quickly lose interest. "Second of all," he continued, brushing a lock of hair off her forehead, "I meant that as a compliment."
She sat back on the couch. "Oh."
"We still friends?" Booth asked, giving her his best doe eyes.
"I suppose," she sighed.
"That's my girl." Booth put his arms around her shoulders and drew her near.
She started to pull away. "You'll get sick."
"You're worried about that now?" He pulled her back.
"Better late than never." Booth's laughter reverberated through her. She felt warmth spread over her body – a distinctly non-fever warmth – and she suddenly remembered how long it had been since she had been held by a man. Since Sully… too many months ago.
"Wanna watch a movie?" Booth asked as he lazily stroked her back.
"In a minute," she replied, snuggling in closer. Booth chuckled again.
"You know we can cuddle while we watch a movie."
"Is that what we're doing? Cuddling?"
"I'd say so, yes."
She was silent for a moment. "Do I have to call Vegas…"
"Let's just say we call Vegas on the next 24 hours. That way you won't have to worry."
"You're planning on staying that long?"
"If you don't kick me out by then."
"Which is a distinct possibility," Brennan commented, feeling the need to draw their conversation out of the deep, dark, scary 'feelings' area in which it seemed to be headed.
"So, a movie then? Maybe Trek Wars?" Brennan elbowed him in the gut. "Ow. Was that really necessary?"
"To me, yes."
"Star Wars it is, then." Booth stood and grabbed the DVD out of his bag. "We'll start with the first. Well, the fourth, but it was really the first." Brennan looked mildly frightened. "Never mind. It's good. You'll like it. It's got guns. You like guns." Brennan just shook her head. "Do you need anything else?"
"No, I think I'm good. Although, a box of tissues within arm's reach might not be a bad idea."
Booth threw her the box of Kleenex and got himself a soda out of the fridge before sitting down. Brennan sat perched in the middle of the couch until Booth draped his arm across the back. Seeing that as invitation enough, she settled again into his side as the movie began to roll.
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(excuse me... too much caffeine this morning)