Disclaimer: I do not own Bones nor any of the characters contained therein.
Summary: Some patterns of behavior follow logic, but many do not. Dr. Brennan reconsiders prior conclusions. Events follow s6 ep18, The Truth in the Myth. Rating has changed! Rated M for language/sexual situations. TB/VN-M
~~~#~~~~~~~~~~~~#&#~~~~~~~~~~~~#~~~
Stranger Things Have Happened
Chapter 5: Dile Que No
It was past nine now, and he really thought he should be going, but there was something about his mentor's post-coital ease with him that made him want to stay. Smiling at another of her odd 'jokes' as they put away the now-cleaned dishes, Vincent marveled again at being in a situation with Dr. Brennan that he had never anticipated. He wondered if he was acclimating to the sensation of surprise.
"I hope you got enough to eat, Vincent. Given your body type, I imagine you have quite a high metabolism."
"A reasonably high metabolism, in any event. And yes, I did have plenty to satiate me. In terms of food consumption as well." He noted that she was looking at him blankly and dropped his smirk. "Your frittata was delicious, thank you."
"You're welcome. It's one of the easiest meals to throw together – what makes a good frittata is dependent on the quality and the intermixture of the ingredients you add to the eggs."
"Of course." He handed her the last dish.
"I am sorry that we did not get to play any of the music you brought with you."
"Oh! Oh, that's alright. I really wasn't sure what to bring, and, well, having not completely understood the nature of the experiment you wished to conduct, I'm not sure any of it would have been appropriate."
"I've noticed that the music some people think is appropriate for sex acts doesn't generally fit what I might select. Then again, I prefer to concentrate on the act itself." She brushed past him, dropping the dishtowel on the counter before exiting the kitchen and heading into the livingroom.
"That, er, that makes sense." He followed her out and saw that she was bending forward at the end of the couch. She was wearing looser, more casual slacks than she'd had on before, and he found himself staring appreciatively at her bum, newly unconcerned at the prospect of being caught. Then he noticed what she was rooting through. "Are you – are you going through my bag?"
"Yes. I was curious about what music you brought." Dr. Brennan stood, holding a stack of CD cases. "There is quite a variety of genres."
"Yes, well, as I said, I wasn't sure what to bring –"
"Jazz, reggae, Ukrainian folk – is this a Bollywood soundtrack?" Eyebrows raised, she turned to him, holding the CD aloft.
"It's a . . . compilation, actually. Technically an album of covers, though I feel the Kronos Quartet did the originals justice."
"I see." Dr. Brennan put You've Stolen My Heart: Songs from R.D. Burman's Bollywood with Asha Bhosle back in the messenger bag with the other CDs. "There's quite a bit of rock music as well, which is less of a surprise."
"Naturally. Nothing too surprising." Stepping closer to her, he fought the urge to yank his bag away from her. "Might as well just –"
"Ooh, what's this?" A thin, clear case appeared, pinched between her thumb and forefinger. "You made me a mix CD?"
"It's, well . . . sort of. It's just – as I pointed out earlier, I had no idea what your re-assessment of me would entail, and I, oh . . ." Vincent forced himself to stop gesturing, pinning his hands to his sides. "Honestly, it's a bit silly. Not at all the sort of mix I would have put together had I known . . . well, had I known anything. I actually thought that you might have been setting up a mock crime scene for me to examine, and the musical styles don't really . . . flow song to song the way a proper mix should."
"A mock crime scene?" She was nodding, staring absently at the disk in her hand. "That was an interesting conclusion, even though it was wrong."
"Yes." Exhaling slowly, he stared at the floor. Just relax, he thought. She's not going to deride you for your song selection – and really, even if she did, there are worse things that could have happened. Considering that she laughed at the idea of our being lovers, and yet did not laugh during our lovemaking . . . yes, could have been worse, much, much worse.
"Do you not want me to play it?"
He looked up, giving a half-shrug. "Not sure there's a point to it now, really, but you may if you like."
"Hm. Is this a gift for me? You wrote my name on it." She waved the disk, reflected light strobing over him.
"Yes. Please keep it with my compliments." Swallowing, he hoped that she would wait to play it after he'd left.
"Oh. Then thank you." She set the disk on the coffee table and swiveled to face him. "You've given me quite a few things, Vincent. I haven't given you anything – that hardly seems equitable."
"That – well, you did make me dinner, and um, there is the small matter of," Vincent cleared his throat, "our, um, sexual encounter . . ." The moment of her climax flashed in his mind, her sculpted, naked body tensing beneath him, and around him, slick, hot, legs splayed, one arm straight up, an upended Y, pink flesh against cream-colored sheets, breasts pert with strawberry-tinged nipples cinched to points, jostling with each impact . . .
"Well, food was necessary to replenish our energy after sex," her voice cut through his reverie, "and the sex itself was part of my re-assessment and, in addition, was completely mutual – sex is not a gift from one person to the other. Or it isn't if you do it right."
He blinked, blush fading. "Did – oh." Vincent swallowed, looking away. "Did I . . . did I not . . . do it right?"
"You did it correctly in my estimation." She raised her eyebrows, eyes darting down and up to meet his. "What I mean is, that doesn't count as a gift."
"Ah. I see, alright then." Several questions prodded from the corners of his consciousness, but he fought them off, unsure if he wanted the answers. "You did it correctly in my estimation" is likely as much of a compliment as I am liable to get anyway, he thought, his cheeks warming again. And my chances of having another go, a re-re-assessment, are vanishingly small. A sigh left his lips, unbidden.
"Wait here." Dr. Brennan turned and abruptly strode back to the bedroom.
"What?" Vincent exhaled, feeling out of sorts, and called out to her. "You don't have to . . ." He let his voice fall to a mumble. "You don't owe me anything." He traced a finger along the back of her couch, remembering the feel of her skin under his fingers, remembering her heat as she had arched into him, remembering the scent of her, the real one, sweet butter beneath the dissipating whiff of soap and spice . . . It's going to be massively difficult to concentrate if I keep . . . mentally revisiting our lovemaking, he thought, shaking his head. Best not let myself get too distracted – lab coats don't hide everything.
The sounds of drawers opening and closing came from the bedroom, followed by a door unlatching. There was a long moment of silence. "Ha!" Her voice sounded further away than it should have, and there was a thud and some rustling sounds.
Just as Vincent was considering going in after her, he heard her footsteps approaching. "Everything alright?" he asked as she re-emerged holding something behind her.
"Yes! As soon as I knew what to look for, I found the box right away."
"As I was saying, you don't owe me any–"
"Whether I owe you anything or not is immaterial. I simply realized that I have something that you would appreciate more than I would, or I think you will." She held out a large, flat, brown-paper-wrapped parcel. "My brother held onto some things my parents had when we were kids, and he sent me a couple of the boxes after we reconnected. Here," she said, handing it to him. "This is more for collecting than for playing, but I thought . . . you like Led Zeppelin, is that right?"
"I . . ." Vincent's voice stopped in his throat. He still had a corner of the object pinched between thumb and forefinger, just peeking out of the brown wrapping, and he wasn't sure if he could breathe.
"Is it not to your liking? I could find you something else."
There was a roaring in his ears as he slipped it the rest of the way out of the paper. When he saw the writing in the lower left corner, he nearly dropped it. "This . . . it's . . . I . . ."
"Are you alright?"
"This is a . . . signed copy of Led Zeppelin's first album! Signed! By Jimmy Page!" He was afraid to move, even to get a better grip on it, lest it disappear before him in a puff of smoke. This feels like a dream again, he thought.
"Yes. I remembered I had it in the collection of vinyl records that were once my parents', and then I remembered something you said about liking Jimmy Page, so I just thought –"
His eyes closing, Vincent's shoulders slumped as reality sunk in. "I can't possibly accept this. This is a keepsake, from your parents. It would be inappropriate . . ."
Dr. Brennan laughed. "Several things this evening would be considered inappropriate, but that does not make them wrong. As I said, I won't make use of this, but you will. It has no sentimental value to me, though if a box of dusty albums did have sentimental value, I still have several left. You will get far more enjoyment out of this than I will, and so I am happy to give it to you. Please accept it."
Hands trembling, he slipped the record back into the bag sheathing it. "I . . . I don't even feel worthy of looking on it, or breathing near it." He folded the paper at the top of the bag back over, protecting its contents.
"Well, if it means anything to you, I think you are worthy."
Vincent looked at her. She seems completely serious, he thought. Do I dare? "Are you absolutely certain that you want me to have this?"
"Yes! Why is that so difficult to believe? Do you still think I'm pranking you? Because this would not be a very good prank."
Eyes crinkling, he leaned into the laugh, shoulders pitching forward as the sound cascaded out of him. Holding the bag-encased record with both hands, taking care not to squeeze or bend it, he shifted his gaze from its brown paper to her blue eyes. "If this were a prank, it would have to be one of the more excessively involved ones I'd ever heard of." Vincent took a deep breath. "I believe you, Dr. Brennan. Er, Temperance – sorry."
She nodded. "Good. And you're right, we should probably resume our normal modes of address, Mr. Nigel-Murray."
"Right. Yes." He suppressed the urge to kick himself. One stupid slip on my part, he thought, and we're back to formalities. Though he supposed that if they'd begun addressing each other more casually while at the Jeffersonian, it would not have gone without notice. Hodgins, at the very least, would keep needling me until I confessed the reason, and that wouldn't do at all.
"Is there something wrong?"
"No, no, no – nothing wrong at all." Shrugging, he jerked his chin to indicate the parcel he was still clutching. "It's just . . . this is a rather expensive gift, I mean, considering what it could be worth . . ."
"Money is not as crucial a concern for me because I have so much of it, so that shouldn't matter." Dr. Brennan walked to her sound system and set the mix CD next to it. "Oh – or were you suggesting that my giving you the record was a form of payment?"
"I . . . hadn't been suggesting . . . no." The thought genuinely hadn't occurred to him, but he was thinking it now.
"Well, it isn't. Also, the monetary value of something is mostly irrelevant if you don't intend to sell it."
"Oh, I won't be selling this. No way." The very idea, he thought.
"Though I suppose if you wanted to be paid for sex, you could easily earn a living. You are quite skillful and attentive."
Definitely acclimating to surprise, he thought. "Ooh, that's me – Vincent Nigel-Murray," he winked, tipping an imaginary hat, "male prostitute." Skillful and attentive, eh? Definitely adding those to my list of qualities. He cleared his throat. "And, er, thank you."
"In all seriousness, though, Vincent, please don't engage in prostitution. Aside from being illegal here, it's very risky."
"No worries. I am, by nature, risk-averse." Glancing away, he nonetheless decided to ask the question that had been lurking in the back of his mind since they'd left the bedroom. "Just for my personal edification," he met her eye, "did I pass?"
"Pass?" Dr. Brennan frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Your re-assessment. If, I mean, if you can tell me, at this juncture." Shaking his head, he looked away. "It's alright. I only wondered."
"I told you before – this was a re-assessment of my own ability to evaluate properly."
"Well yes, but you did say that that included a re-assessment of me, comparing your expectations with my . . . capabilities." Shouldn't have mentioned it, he thought. Might be best if I never know.
"Hm. Yes, I did say something like that." She sighed, eyes downcast. "It isn't really a matter of your passing or failing, though. In this experiment, only I could pass or fail. And frankly, I failed. I underestimated you. You performed beyond my expectations – granted, my expectations were low, but still – it means that I misjudged you by not allowing myself to examine all the evidence without bias."
"Well . . . but you have examined the evidence. Now." Vincent kept his eyes on her face until hers locked with his.
A soft smile touched her face. "That's true. And I understand you better, I think. It was a worthwhile experiment."
"Agreed." Blushing slightly, he took a deep breath. "Despite not being able to tell anyone about this, I feel we've come to a point of greater understanding between us."
"Yes. I –"
"It's not . . . I mean, it's alright if it is, but, um . . . you not wanting anyone to know – is it, er . . ."
"I am not ashamed, if that's what you are thinking." Dr. Brennan regarded him coolly. "I simply don't want my other interns to think I'm going to have sex with them as well. Whatever misconceptions I may have about them or other people, I would need to design different experiments in each case, but I have already proven what I needed to know in this case, so the point is moot."
"Fair enough." Vincent decided that now was not the time to point out that the scientific method required multiple tests with checks and balances. Also, he really didn't want to dwell on the image of Dr. Brennan 'taking on' all the other interns at once . . .
"Oh, how much further have you progressed in your compositional and dimensional analysis of the Tyrannosaurus Rex's humerus as compared with a human's?"
"Ah! Actually, I expanded on your suggestions regarding the comparative density of the cortical bone of each, and I think we really could have quite the presentation!" Vincent grinned, relieved to have moved to a less emotionally charged topic. "Do you genuinely think we'll be able to speak at the conference?"
"Definitely. In fact, I have already received confirmation that they are interested in our presenting our hypothesis. We'll have to submit the full paper for their review, but given what progress you've already made, they're almost certain to give us final approval."
"Excellent! That's really fantastic!"
"I agree. As soon as you've finished the mathematical proof, we can begin work on the presentation itself. We'll need to provide multiple images along with the text, but we can discuss that further once you've finished the calculations."
Vincent felt the blood drain from his face. "Oh, I've . . . I've really got a lot of work to do then. I'd best be, um –" He wanted to kiss her but felt that would be inappropriate to do at this point, so instead he shook her hand with enthusiasm. "Thank you Temp— er, Dr. Brennan." His eye seemed to wink of its own volition. "I'll get right on it then! See you at the lab!"
In a whirlwind, he grabbed up all his things and hurried out, not daring to look back.
~~~#~~~~~~~~~~~~#&#~~~~~~~~~~~~#~~~
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, but here is Mr. Nigel-Murray's PoV at last. Funny how the awkwardness never completely goes away. Also, I figured that these two would have had to have been working on the Tyrannosaurus project for awhile before it was mentioned in the episode, The Hole in the Heart. There is still one more chapter left.
Thanks for reading!