Talking About Booth
Chapter 2

"It's just one little interview." Maggie sent Booth her most winning smile. She settled onto the edge of my desk and blocked my view of the couch. I rolled my chair over to the right. I'd spent fifteen minutes fending her off and it had been a long day. It was Booth's turn now.

"No," he said without looking up from the folder he was studying. He had propped his feet on the glass coffee table. Photos lay strewn beside him. A pile of folders was festering on the floor nearby. His jacket was folded across the back of the couch. I recognized the signs. He was there for the long haul.

"But it's Oprah." Her earrings jangled as she shook her head. "I can't believe no one gets what that means."

He dropped the folder to the floor and picked up another. "Oprah's not my thing."

"Of course not, honey," Maggie said soothingly. "A man like you probably watches football, basketball. But you have heard of her, right?"

Booth jotted a few notes down.

"You do have a TV, yes?"

"Do I look like a squint?"

"No, no, no. Of course not," said Maggie. I could hear the smile in her voice. She gave him the once over. "You are most definitely a man." Her happy sigh was less than subtle.

"Does that mean Hodgins and Zach aren't?" My intellectual curiosity was piqued. "By implication you are saying that, aren't you?"

The look she gave me said volumes. "Temp, honey." Her earrings jangled again. "There are men and then there are men. Hodgins and Zach are men but Booth, well, he's a man."

"You're using the same terminology to create two different definitions," I said against my better judgment. "You're using inflection of voice to make the differentiation."

Her pink fingernails curled under her palms as she leaned back against them. "Temp. Honey. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Yes."

"If it works, why knock it?"

It was near impossible to win an argument with Maggie. "He can't do the interview," I said. "FBI policy won't let him."

She made a sound of exasperation. "Policy? Honey, if I listened every time someone told me it was against the rules or against whatever, I wouldn't be able to do my job." She zeroed in on Booth once more. "It's Oprah. She wants to meet you. She loves the books. It would be good for sales. And for Temp. Do it for Temp."

I shook my head at him.

"Bones doesn't need my help, Maggie." He rifled through a set of photos. "She's had two bestsellers make number one. This one will too."

"But it'll help her look good," she said. Her sincere tone. "She's great at explaining her work and the premise of her books, but you'd help her seem more…"

"What, Maggie?" The air in the office seemed to shift slightly. His expression was unreadable. "Seem more what?"

She took a deep breath, then another.

He returned to his research. "She's doing fine," was all he said.

I felt like I'd missed something. Typical.

Booth rose from the couch and stretched, moved his head side to side to work out the kinks. "I'm going for coffee. Want some?"

"It'll be strong," I warned him.

He gave me a lazy grin. "Maggie?"

"I'm good, thanks." She seemed herself again. "I have to go soon anyway." She waited until he was gone. "Temp, do you know what you've got there?"

"Sorry?" I had started in on my emails.

Another shake of her head. "Good lord, honey. You really don't know."

I downloaded a PDF file. "Know what?"

"Booth."

"What about him?"

"He's a man."

"I thought we already established that."

Her hand closed over mine and squeezed lightly. "No, honey. Look at him, really look at him. I know you're friends but there could be more, I think." She let go. "If you let him."

Why did everyone always assume I was blind? "You have to stop badgering him," I said. "He's not interested in the fame thing."

"Neither are you."

"I don't think he'd agree to have makeup done either," I said, sidestepping the issue.

"There's makeup?" came Booth's voice from the door. He deposited my coffee on my desk. "Then no way am I doing the interview."

A tactical mistake. "You were thinking about it then," said Maggie with renewed enthusiasm.

Booth winced.

"We need to go over evidence, Maggie." I had reached my limit. "I know the interview's important to you…"

"But there are criminals to catch. I know, I know." She always knew when to stop. "I'll see you later, Temp." A nod. "Booth."

"Maggie."

She gave me a meaningful glance and indicated at Booth with her chin. A final jangle of her earrings and she was gone.

The silence was a relief.

"What was that about?" His gaze tracked Maggie out of the lab.

"What?"

"Bones."

"She said you were a man."

"I like to think so."

"She emphasized the man part."

"Man part?"

I gave him my best exasperated stare. He simply smiled and dropped onto the length of the couch.

"You're sitting on my reports."

"Yeah?"

"I worked hard to write those."

He removed the offending documents and placed them on the table in a chaotic pile."Technically, some of these reports are mine." He tugged on his tie and threw it on top of his jacket. A sigh escaped his lips as he leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. "You need a TV in here."

"I don't watch it at home. Why would I need one here?"

"Is there a cable outlet anywhere?" He wasn't listening.

"In my office?"

"No, Bones. In Hawaii."

I tossed a book at him. "You should read the chapter on the use of sarcasm in communication."

"We could wheel in one of those plasmas from the examination room and hook it up." Classic avoidance.

"There's no game on tonight." It was easier to play along than to ignore him.

"How do you know?"

"Hodgins told me."

"You asked?"

"I'd have to get more cheese."

"It would be better if you had satellite."

"I do. You made me get it, remember?"

"I mean here." He seemed to be enjoying my growing irritation. "There's always a game on somewhere."

"But we have work to do."

"I can multitask."

"There's no point to this discussion," I said with finality. "I don't have cable and I don't have satellite." I opted for a compromise. "You can pick an internet radio station and I can put it over the speakers though."

He laughed. "That's okay, Bones. I'll live. Work it is." He grabbed a folder from the floor. "Your turn to phone in the order."

I chose sushi.

"Would I really have to wear makeup?" The notion seemed to both repel and fascinate him. It was a common male reaction. If asked, I could cite numerous anthropological studies that explained why.

"Cameras make you look flat and sickly." I sat on the floor opposite the couch and spread out my work around me. "They have to put orange makeup on you to give you dimension."

"So all those guys doing the sports commentary…?"

"Orange," I confirmed.

"Not good for smoldering," he said wryly.

"You could still do the brooding part."

"Brooding? I'm supposed to brood while you answer questions?"

"Brood and be protective."

"You never told me that. How does that sell more books?" He waved a hand in the air. "Never mind. Forget I asked. That woman scares me."

"Maggie?"

"No, the queen of England."

"Sarcasm is in chapter four."

He chucked the book wide to my right. It thudded safely away from me against the carpet. "She looks at me as if I'm dinner."

"Well, she does think you're yummy. Her words, not mine," I hastened to add.

"She's too aggressive."

I nodded in understanding. "That would bother you."

"What?"

"You come from a conservative, religious background. Gender roles were traditional in your family. It's natural you'd prefer the same as an adult."

"Wait a minute. I work with you, don't I?"

I had to reread a paragraph. "Yes, but you think of me as a man who just happens to be a woman."

"What?" His feet came off the couch as he whipped upright. "I hate it when women do that."

"Do what?"

"That." His fingers stabbed the air. "What you just did. Use my words against me."

"You admitted it was strange to have a woman partner."

"Back then. That was over a year ago. I'm good now. God, Bones. Sometimes I want to…"

"Want to what?" I said, curious. He looked suddenly out of sorts.

"You sure you gave them the right number?"

"What?"

"The sushi place. You gave them your cell, right?" At my nod, he launched himself from the couch. "I'll go check the doors."

"But no one's phoned yet." It was no use. I was talking to air.