Getting to Know You
Chapter 2
Booth dug into his Khao Pad eagerly, savoring the Thai spices on his tongue. Chewing thoughtfully, he wiped his greasy fingers on the leg of his jeans before flipping open yet another folder.
"I still can't believe this guy's wife was poisoning him for seven months," he said around a mouthful of chicken, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Mmm," Bones responded absentmindedly, seemingly lost in a folder of her own. Her open container of rice sat half-finished on the table before them, forgotten for the time being.
"I mean, you would think that if she really wanted him dead that badly, she would have tried something a little more…direct," he pressed determinedly, attempting to draw a conversation out of his distracted partner. He was bored.
"Mmm," Bones replied again, staring intently at the report in front of her. Upon closer inspection, Booth realized that her eyes were not actually moving; she seemed to be staring through the papers, not at them.
"Bones?"
"Mmm."
"Bones!"
"Huh?" She turned to look at him with a start, as if torn from a trance. "What?"
He grinned teasingly, amusement glinting in his eyes at catching his partner daydreaming. "You didn't hear a single word I just said, did you?"
"Of course I did," she protested defensively, shoulders straightening indignantly at his accusation.
"Well then what did I just say?" He challenged knowingly.
Cerulean eyes narrowed, her mind struggling to remember the pointless chatter she had been tuning out moments before. At her extended silence, his grin began to grow.
"See, I told you-"
"When did you lose your first tooth?" She suddenly blurted out.
"I- what?" He asked, bewildered by the sudden change in topic.
"Your first tooth. When did you lose it? How did it fall out?"
"Jeez, Bones, I dunno…why?"
"Because it has recently been brought to my attention that you know many details, both intimate and trivial, about my life, while I know almost none from yours!" Her voice was petulant, but her eyes were genuinely troubled.
"That's not true…" Booth began, but trailed off at the expression on her face. He gave a defeated sigh, wondering when he had lost control over this conversation. Hadn't he been the one grilling her?
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, he finally focused on her question, trying to remember.
"Ok. Fine. I think my first one fell out when I was, oh jeez…seven? I got punched in the mouth."
Brennan's eyes widened in horror, guilt crossing her face as her hand shot out to touch his arm. "Oh my God, your father?"
He jerked away as if she had slapped him, eyebrows shooting to his hairline and then narrowing into a glare. "What? No! Jeez Bones, no, it was Jared. We got into a scuffle…you know how kids are…" He risked a look at her, then turned quickly away at the awkward flush he saw on her cheeks.
"Oh," she said softly, for once at a loss for words. They had never discussed Booth's loaded comment after the birthday party. He had never explained the whole story behind it. And she had never told him that she already knew.
Watching out of the corner of her eye for any signs of danger, Brennan saw him struggling, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he ran a hand through his hair. Finally heaving a sigh, he straightened up, swallowed his embarrassment, and plopped down on the couch next to her with a forced air of casualness.
"You got anything else?"
"Huh?"
"Any other 'trivial' details you need to know before you burst?" He gave her a somewhat watery version of his charm smile, but she sensed she was forgiven.
"Yes," she said softly, holding his gaze a moment longer to make sure there were no traces of resentment.
He was silent for a minute, then gave a true smile and raised his eyebrows expectantly. "So…?"
"Oh!" She flushed, realizing he was waiting for her to actually ask him something. "Well, I mean, I don't have them ready right now. I…I have to think about it."
"Of course you do."
"I would like to take some time to give the matter sufficient thought and compile a list-"
"A list?" He stared at her incredulously. If it had been anyone else, he would have bet they were kidding, but not Bones.
"Well yes, in the interest of being thorough…"
He let out a groan and fell back deeper into the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why am I beginning to feel like one of the skeletons on your examination table?"
"Come on Booth, fair is fair. You know all about me. I…" she suddenly looked a little flustered, stalling before meeting his eyes self-consciously, "I want to know about you."
'You already do!' He wanted to scream at her. He had shared more of himself with this woman than any other person on earth; she knew his secrets, his fears, his vices…what more was there? But one look at her face told him that this answer would not appease her. Swallowing yet another sigh, he accepted fate and surrendered to the force of nature that was his partner.
"Alright, fine, Bones. You win. You can make your little list and we'll get my dissection over with, but on two conditions."
"What are they?" she asked, already sounding suspicious.
"One," he held up a finger in front of her nose, waggling it for emphasis, "Any question you ask, you also have to answer about yourself."
"What! Booth that is completely-"
"Ah, ah, ah! 'Fair is fair', remember Bones? You wanted us to be equal, right? It goes both ways."
"Fine." She crossed her arms over her chest with a huff, clearly displeased.
"Two," he held up another finger, meeting her eyes win an intense, no-nonsense glare, "Absolutely, under no circumstances, are you allowed to ask anything whatsoever that pertains to my past, current, or future sex life."
She gave an incredulous laugh. "Why would you-"
"Because," he interrupted firmly, refusing to release her from his warning look, "I know you."
She contemplated his face for a moment before finally flashing a satisfied grin. "Sold," she echoed his words from earlier that day, extending a hand. He matched her smile with one of his own, shaking her hand firmly.
"Deal."
Brennan rested her forehead on a fist, glaring balefully at the notepad before her. If intimidation alone could generate a list of interesting, insightful questions, she'd be at number two-hundred-and-fifty already. Instead, after an hour of fruitless brainstorming, she was still stuck at number seven.
Glancing down at the offensive sheet of paper, she read over her small, meticulous handwriting. '7: What's your favorite color?' Letting out a derisive snort she threw down her ballpoint pen in disgust. How pathetic.
After eagerly sitting down to work on her list, Brennan had quickly realized how truly ingenious Booth's seemingly harmless conditions were. Instead of arguing and becoming defensive, he had simply placed the burden of drawing the line on her shoulders, counting on her private nature to dissuade her from asking questions that were too personal.
And he had been right, she grudgingly admitted. He knew that her past was just as complicated as his own, full of painful memories and shameful confessions. Every time she came up with an interesting question about some detail of his adolescence, the parallel answer in her own life deterred her from writing it down.
In fact, the only type of 'personal' stories she wasn't embarrassed about sharing involved her sex life (which, as far as she considered, wasn't really that personal at all…it was just a means of satisfying biological urges). But he had of course anticipated this as well, and covered all angles of it through condition number two.
She was beginning to suspect that she had severely underestimated Seeley Booth's intelligence.
Letting out a groan, the doctor allowed her head to fall against her desk, not even bothering to look up when she heard the familiar approaching footsteps.
"What is it, Angela?"
"Whoa, what happened to you?"
"Booth," she moaned miserably, raising her head to meet her friend's eyes. Seeing the smirk, she quickly shot the other woman a glare. "You know what I meant."
"Mmhmm…" Angela teased, plopping down into a chair across from the desk. "So what did Sir Hunk-a-lot do this time?"
"Nothing. It's just these stupid rules he made. How am I supposed to construct an effective questionnaire if I'm constantly being limited in what I can-"
"Whoa, whoa, slow down. Rewind, Sweetie. What's this about rules and a questionnaire now?"
Brennan sat up fully in her chair, giving the notebook a disgruntled shove to the side before bringing Angela up to speed. "Well, after careful consideration, I took your advice and confronted Booth directly about the lack of details he offers me in everyday conversation. We agreed that the only rational solution would be for me to generate a list of questions-"
"You what?"
"-that he will then answer systematically." She raised an eyebrow at Angela's look of disbelief. "What? It's the most efficient solution to the problem."
"And Booth just agreed to let you…interrogate him?" The brunette asked skeptically.
"Well, he enforced some guidelines…"
"Uh-huh, that sounds more like it," she nodded knowingly, sinking into a chair and making herself comfortable. "Let's hear them."
"Well, first of all, I am not allowed to ask anything that I can't answer about myself," Brennan sighed, secretly relieved that Angela was settling in. It meant the cavalry had arrived.
"Ooh, bravo, Booth," Angela said appreciatively, feeling a new sense of respect for the agent. "Nicely played."
"And second, I am not allowed to ask anything about his sex life," the anthropologist sighed. Was it her imagination, or had Angela detected the hints of a whine in her friend's voice?
"He would," the brunette lamented with exaggerated disappointment, waving away Brennan's questioning look. "Never mind, Sweetie. That's just…unfortunate. What else?"
"That's it. There are just the two rules."
The artist cocked her head to one side, raising an eyebrow in puzzlement. "So…what's the problem?"
"The problem is I can't think of anything to ask! I made such a big deal about wanting to know the details about his life, but I can't think of anything important enough! All the significant events are too personal…"
"But sweetie, isn't that kinda the whole point?" Angela hedged gently.
"What?"
"Bren, I thought the whole reason you were upset was because you didn't know the little things about Booth's life. You guys already know the big things about each other, even if you leave out a few of the nitty gritty details. And while no one would like a healthy serving of dirt on Booth's 'bedside manner' better than me, I don't think that's what you're really after, either."
"I'm not sure I even know what I'm after," Brennan admitted, more than a little frustrated.
"Sure you do, you just need a little guidance. Lucky for you, here I am," the artist posed dramatically, drawing a rueful grin from her friend. "Come on, let's see what you've got so far."
Thirty minutes later, Cam paused at the entrance of Dr. Brennan's office, raising a brow at the giggles coming form within. "Sounds like a party," she commented as she peeked in, spotting her two female coworkers sitting on the couch, leaning over something eagerly. "What's going on?"
"Bren's making a list," Angela sing-songed, letting out a fresh burst of laughter as Brennan's elbow caught her in the side.
"Oh? What kind of list?" Cam inched forward, curiosity getting the best of her.
Bones glanced down sheepishly, scanning the pad of paper in her lap. Admittedly, the list had grown considerably since Angela began contributing (although some of the newer questions were getting ridiculous…like number twenty-three: 'name your most ticklish spot'). She contemplated Cam carefully. Surely adding another mind, especially one with more…intimate…knowledge of their target, could only help the process...
"It's a list of questions for Booth."
"Questions?" Cam repeated skeptically.
"They made a deal," Angela explained smugly, shooting Cam a meaningful glance. "Bren gets to ask Booth as many questions as she wants, as long as she answers them, too."
Cam dropped into a nearby chair, giving Brennan a pitying look. "Ohh boy," she drew out knowingly, shaking her head.
"What do mean you 'Ohh boy'?" The anthropologist wanted to know.
"Dr. Brennan, you do realize that you are making a deal with the devil, right?"
"Rationally speaking, there is no such thing as the devil, it's just a mythical persona created to frighten people into acting in a way that society sees as morally responsible." She gave Cam a calculating look before shrugging, "Though I assume you were speaking metaphorically."
"Right…" she trailed off awkwardly before shrugging off her exasperation at the anthropologist's overly literal interpretation of everything. "What I meant to say, Dr. Brennan, was that this is probably going to backfire on you."
"What is?"
"Trying to pump Seeley Booth for information. The man interrogates suspects for a living; he knows what he's doing."
"I am well aware of Booth's interrogation skills," the scientist assured defensively.
"Then you are also aware that no matter how many questions he answers, he is going to glean about four times as much information off of you."
"I don't see how that's possible if we are both answering the same questions," Brennan maintained stubbornly.
Cam just heaved a sigh. "Dr. Brennan, you will be fairly curious about Booth's answers. You'll listen to his responses to the questions and carefully file away as many as you can." She paused to shoot the anthropologist an amused glance, "That is, if you aren't writing them down as you go…"
"But Booth…he can't help it; he likes to put people together like puzzles. Your answers will fascinate him; he'll memorize every aspect of your response. Then he'll analyze it and feel it and ask innocent questions that result in a twenty minute elaboration of why yellow is your favorite color before you even realize what he's done! And then he'll take the entire conversation and tuck it away in that goddamn infinite memory bank of his."
She sat back and took a deep breath, flushing slightly as she realized she'd been ranting. Angela arched one elegant eyebrow questioningly, interest clearly apparent on her face.
"What?" Cam asked defensively. "You try dating someone that perceptive. He's downright scary, sometimes."
Angela held her gaze for another moment before suddenly jumping to her feet, bringing her hands together with an authoritative clap. "Drinks," she announced happily.
"Excuse me?"
"We need drinks," Angela clarified, hulling Brennan to her feet and moving towards Cam fast, "Now."
"But-" Brennan began to protest, only to be immediately cut off.
"Ah! It's seven-o-clock; work has officially been over for two hours." Angela turned next to Cam, daring her to argue. "We are three young, attractive women, who are going to take this notebook," she bent down and retrieved the list off of the coffee table, "to the nearest bar and fill it with questions to torture our favorite, gorgeous FBI agent. Any questions?"
The other two women stood before her helplessly, sharing a glance of defeat as the artist's wicked grin widened further. "Yeah, I didn't think so."
"Ang, this time I am positive that that falls under the 'no sex talk' rule," Brennan scolded, taking one last appreciative sip of her now-empty long island ice tea. Where was Cam with their next round?
"What!" Angela protested innocently, twirling her own drink slowly. "That doesn't have to be sexual. You are taking it out of context!"
The doctor shot her friend a skeptical look. "What are your favorite 'groan zones'?" She repeated incredulously, not familiar with the term but intelligent enough to guess its meaning. Her PhD wasn't just for show, after all…
"What's wrong with asking that?" Angela continued to insist stubbornly, playing with a napkin. "It's reasonable."
"It's sexual."
"It's behind his left ear," Cam noted casually from behind them, setting down their drinks with a clunk before climbing back onto the stool next to Angela.
"What!" Angela cried gleefully, turning her full attention to the other woman. Cam just gave a knowing smile before pulling a fresh ice tea towards her, shaking her head before taking a long sip. The woman's cheeks were tinged slightly pink from the alcohol that was coursing through her system and loosening her usually guarded lips.
"Fine," the artist relented, though delight still danced behind her warm eyes. "Cross that one off the list, Bren."
"It was never on the list," the doctor mumbled, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she quickly shooed away the images Cam's insider knowledge had generated in her mind's eye. Taking one of the new drinks in both hands, she eagerly pulled it closer and set out to drown the troublesome thoughts.
"Has he ever been arrested?" Cam wondered thoughtfully, settling back in.
"Has he ever been skinny dipping?" Angela grinned wickedly.
Brennan shook her head in amusement at the questions coming from her two tipsy friends. Taking another sip of her own decidedly strong drink, the anthropologist finally gave up, shrugged her shoulders, and added them both to the list.
Fin.
And all folks. I kind of like ending it here...I think I'll leave the actual interrogation to your imaginations. If you have a minute, please let me know what you thought (as always, any feedback is welcome).