Title: The Center will Hold - Epilogue
Spoilers: Up to early Season 3
Disclaimer: Not mine. If they were, there would be a shirtless David Boreanaz in every ep. Seriously. Every one.
A/N: Just for giggles.
It was a gray and rainy fall day, the beautiful leaves stripped from the trees and lying soggy on the ground. The kind of day that was made for homemade soup and grilled cheese, Angela thought as she shook out her umbrella under the overhang.
She was struggling to open the door against the wind, her coat blowing around her and tangling in her legs, when a hand reached out and grabbed the door handle.
"Here you go, let me get that for you," a familiar and entirely too chipper voice said.
"Booth, what are you doing here so early? And why do you sound so … happy?" She eyed him suspiciously, as she pushed her wet hair away from her face.
"Just glad to be alive today I guess. You know, Christmas is only twenty-nine days away," he responded, leaning around her again to open the second set of doors.
Angela just shook her head, and walked a few paces before coming to a dead stop, grabbing his sleeve and spinning him to face her. She pulled him to her with both hands on the lapels of his overcoat, inhaled quickly, and then pushed him away a step, her hands fisted on her hips.
"Lavender and lemon verbena, Booth. I'd know that scent anywhere. She is my best friend, you know." Her finger poked him in the chest, as she advanced on him, her voice dripping with accusation.
A horrifying realization dawned on him, and he grabbed her index finger and pulled her to him, placing a palm over her mouth as his whispered in her ear.
"Not a word, Angela. Not…a…word."
THE END – Thanks for reading! I couldn't resist our favorite 'olfactory savant' catching on.