FLUFF. I am on a rampage to post, because this story is taking up far too much of my time and brainpower. My husband thinks I'm crazy. We are almost there—four chapters left after this one. And they are already in draft form. My work here is almost done!
RT, I dedicate this bit of joyous fluff to you, because you need a little extra cheer in your life! *hugs*
Lanie, you are too kind. Will you be my life coach? Don't worry, Sweets will be ok. He's made of strong stuff, despite feeling things deeply. Here's some fluff to help you recover.
Disclaimer: not mine.
True to her word, Bea and Lulu moved out a week after Lance's transgression. Lance missed them almost immediately, but it was nice to sleep in his own bed and keep a tidy apartment again. Knox, for his part, seemed thrilled. He had never liked the noisy child and her bossy mother.
For the entire months of February and March, Lance only saw Bea when he was working at the Jeff, and even then she seemed to avoid him. Whenever he entered her office to check on her, she set about busily typing and asked him to return later. He wondered if their friendship would recover. He could only hope that based on past experiences when he had messed up with true friends, they had eventually forgiven him. For example, when he had failed to inform Dr. Brennan of the fact that Booth wasn't really dead after he had been shot, she had initially been so livid that he thought the connection they had forged was forever demolished. Yet they had recovered.
Lance realized that he had dwelt upon Daisy too long, and began to get his act together at last. The episode that drove Bea out had served as a wake up call to both Lance and Bea. He hadn't ended up going to a new psychiatrist, but he had gotten his depression under tighter reign. It was slowly releasing him from its stony grasp. He had hope again and was able to re-assume his customary cheery veneer at work.
For instance, today Lance was at the Jeffersonian on the platform with Cam and Wendell. The remains of a former Olympic swimmer were splayed before them, mangled and sickening. The onlookers, however, were accustomed to this level of gore and conversed as normally as if a roasted chicken sat on the table.
"Woah, this is SO totally cool. Do you remember this guy? His butterfly was like…aw man, it was awesome!" Lance was in utter fanboy mode and lifted his arms into a few giant butterfly strokes. His wingspan was formidable as a man of fairly tall stature, and Cam and Wendell had to duck.
Wendell was grinning—he liked Sweets' enthusiasm. He was a pretty hardcore sports fan himself. "Do you swim, man?" Wendell asked, laughing at Sweets' buoyancy.
"Yeah, I swam the 200 fly in college," Lance said proudly, his chest a little puffed.
"Woah. That's pretty hard core!" Wendell stuck out his bottom lip, impressed. "Dude, do you do triathlons, because when Hodgins gets back, the three of us should train together for the summer season!"
"Cool. I did a couple of tris in New York in grad school, but it's been awhile. I gotta get back on my bike, man. My leg has not been the same since I broke it last summer."
Cam rolled her eyes. This was going to go on and on until she put the kibosh on it. "Um, that's great, Dr. Sweets. Can we focus on the matter at hand? I thought these scars on the vic's legs were strange, like perhaps he cut himself? Like with a razor?"
"You mean, you think he was a cutter?" Wendell asked with concern. He was genuinely a good guy and the details of the murder cases, which revealed the underbellies of human experience, often seemed to touch him.
Lance peered at the vic's skin, his nose dangerously close to making contact. "Naw, I doubt it. I think these were shaving cuts."
"But they're on his thighs!" Cam declared confused.
"Yeah, but swimmers shave their legs and arms for races…of course, now they have those awesome full body Speedos!" Lance zipped his hand through the air to demonstrate such a well-adorned swimmer. "I probably could have shaved at least a second off my best time with one of those!" Fanboy Lance was not the most focused murder investigator.
"What was your best time, man?" Wendell asked, but Cam interrupted him abruptly.
"That's enough, boys. Go to the gym together or something! Now clear off, Sweets, we're done with you!"
Lance pouted but departed. He was heading for the door when he stopped in front of Angela's/Bea's office. He hesitated for a long moment, trying to decide if he should attempt to talk to her. She really didn't seem interested in patching things up. He, on the other hand, found himself frequently and sometimes inappropriately obsessing over the petite Asian woman with the tattoos. He couldn't blame himself-he had slept naked in his bed with her.
But then he heard, "Sweets? Come in here." It was Bea's voice, and Lance was surprised at the mixture of feelings it stirred in him all at once: joy, comfort, arousal. Feelings of new love, to be exact.
He went in promptly and sat on Angela's couch. He slung up his feet on a table, regarding his friend at her filthy desk, trying to seem as casual as possible.
"How's it shaking, Bea?" he asked with thinly veiled delight. His heart thumped.
"Boy, someone's in a good mood!" she laughed.
"I just…" he swung his legs down and leaned forward. "I missed you. Are you still angry with me? Because…"
"No, Sweets. I'm not mad. I just needed time to get my life together again. Didn't you? You seem to be doing much better. Moving out was the right decision for all of us."
"Yeah, maybe. But…I'd really like to see Lulu again. Does she ask about me?"
"Yes, she does. Let's have breakfast this Saturday at the diner, ok? She'll be delighted to see you, and if you're lucky, maybe she'll baptize your crotch in ketchup like old times."
"I like your haircut, Bea. Short looks nice on you!" Bea was rocking a very short spiky cut. It was a shocking transition from her long, luxurious locks of yore, but it made her look scary hot. Like she was going to maul you, Lance thought. He'd like to be mauled by her. Damn.
"I donated my hair, wise ass. It was time for a change."
"I was not being a wise ass. You look beautiful! You always look beautiful," Lance said, flirting shamelessly now.
"Hey Sweets. You wanna get together before Saturday?" she asked abruptly.
"Like…like how get together?" Lance lifted an eyebrow, daring to hope she meant a date.
Bea responded coyly, "Like I put on a dress. You find something in between those suits you always wear and your 16 year-old attire. We go someplace where people, you know, go out."
"You mean a date!" Lance exclaimed bursting with joy. He blushed a little, because he knew he was being pathetic.
"I guess," Bea smirked.
"If you can get a babysitter for tomorrow, I'll pick you up at 7 at your new place."
"Ok, but pick me up here. I've got a pile of s- to do this week, and it ain't gonna do itself." She peaced out to him silently, so he took his cue.
Lance sprung up from his seat and literally skipped off. Bea shook her head in disgust and amusement. But she was pleased. This was possibly the most enthusiastic suitor she'd ever had.
What had changed for her to ask Sweets out? she wondered to herself. She enumerated the reasons she could think of in her head, which she always did when she was puzzled by her own spontaneous behavior. She was simply a numbers person. One, she thought, I'm not as God-damned strong willed as I like to pretend. Two, he's quite possibly the most adorable person I've ever laid eyes upon and obviously smitten with me. Three, I've seen him naked, and I approve. She physically smiled at that one. Four, I miss intellectually stimulating adult company. Five, Lulu loves that man. Can I blame her? I love him too, but in what way exactly…? She sighed. She hoped she wasn't making the wrong decision. She made a mental note to take things as slowly as humanly possible without driving Sweets crazy. She had the feeling it wouldn't last anyway.
When Lance got back to his office at Georgetown, a fantastic surprise awaited him that made his excellent mood soar even higher. Booth had emailed him—he was coming home in three weeks, a little earlier than planned. Hodgins, Angela, Brennan, and well…Daisy (unfortunately) would be back 3 weeks after that. He wouldn't worry about that now. He was secretly glad to get some time alone with Booth before everyone returned. He wanted to discuss a few things with his friend, and let's face it, practically father figure. He didn't consciously realize until the moment he learned Booth was coming home that he had practically been holding his breath over his friend's safety for the past 11 months. Booth was a warrior at heart—a hero—and it had secretly petrified Lance that Booth might put himself at risk while in Afghanistan. Hell, one didn't even need to try to get hurt there—innocent men, women, and children were killed almost every day in suicide car bombings. Lance had become a compulsive checker of the Washington Post and NPR for news of attacks in the troubled country. When Booth was back, maybe Lance could finally relax again.