special thanks to to adangeli and 2BBornot2BB, the betas for this here story.
thank you for reading this… i honestly don't know what we're thinking!
Dr. Brennan did not often relish getting up early on a Monday, but when her alarm went off at five, she smiled at the thought of going into work.
Nothing was as satisfactory as putting that smug rat bastard of an FBI agent in his place. Really, she was looking forward to it.
She reasoned that he deserved it, what with the underhanded manner in which he had detained her at the airport. She had to admit, the man was resourceful and persistent. She had gone to great lengths to assure that she'd never have to see him again, but she supposed he'd have to be creative considering what he did for a living.
She hated to admit it, but his atypical approach to procuring her involvement in the investigation was admirable. And she did so admire creativity.
She still hated the contents of his abdominal cavity, however.
XXXXXXX
"It's hot, is what it is," Angela said, a dreamy sort of smile on her face. She bent down and made a few adjustments to her new toy, the price of which had made Goodman balk and Brennan smile. Brennan had gotten her way, of course. Angela had clearly stated what she needed with sound reasoning, so Brennan had ensured she got it. It was the least she could do. Angela's presence in the lab had added… something intangible. Ange would have quantified it as "less ickiness," but it was more like warmth. A touch of humanity, perhaps.
At any rate, Brennan wanted to thank her for her friendship and contribution by requisitioning a million dollar-plus theoretical and experimental technology. She hoped her gesture was understood for what it was.
"Do you need me to adjust the thermostat? I could have Zack call EVS," she said, puzzling when Angela laughed.
"No, Sweetie. Not for the temp. The fight you keep having with the FBI man is what's hot."
"Booth? Well, he's an assuming, arrogant, pushy -"
"- smug, delicious, forceful, manly, virile, well-trained -"
"Well-trained?" Brennan laughed. She ignored Angela's oft-repeated reminisces of what she considered to be Booth's attractive qualities.
"Honey, that man is too well-behaved to not be taken. It's obvious. He's got a girl. Although I don't think it's serious - he checks you out too much for it to be serious. Or maybe there's trouble in paradise." They were reclining on Angela's new couch, another requisitioned item Dr. Goodman had half-heartedly grumbled about.
"We… I don't know, Ange. He's frustrating. But, I must concede - he's very good."
"I bet."
"At his job, Angela."
"Hey, I saw you two together back in the day, Bren. You were all cutesy-wootsey and then tequila'd and then… BAM. Bickering and slapping and even hotter for each other's bones. So to speak," she said, gesturing at the walls of her office, the pieces of skeletons in Limbo on constant display.
"Ange, we -"
"Did not sleep together. I know. You should've though. I'm just sayin'." Angela smiled serenely and kicked Brennan's leg. "Admit it. You wanted to. Still do, right?"
"Ange -"
"Come on. No judgment here. I know you've got the tricky sitch goin' on at the homefront. But come, now. No consequences, no ramifications. Wouldn't you like to see him all naked and ready?"
"See who all naked and ready?" Both women turned to the doorway to observe the man in question, and while Brennan felt a near flush overtake her face, Angela got a wicked grin and nudged Brennan with her shoe.
"Well, hello, Agent Booth. You got a license to carry that thing?" Brennan was perpetually amused by both Angela's flirtatious behavior and Booth's discomfort at the innuendo.
"You have the results I need yet?" he said, smiling tightly at Angela and ignoring her question.
"Good morning to you, too, Booth. Yes, follow me." Brennan heaved off the couch and smiled as she strode away, her purposefully fast pace causing him to scurry after her. Let the games begin.
They spent the morning chasing leads. She certainly enjoyed getting out of the lab. It was different, really - being out in the world where people were inconsistent. She was fascinated by such simple interactions.
Watching Booth at work was thrilling; she could admit that much. His methods were sloppy, his focus unclear, but you couldn't argue with results. She found herself admiring his tactics, could see the proverbial wheels turning in his head. Without meaning to, she began comparing Booth to Peter - not physically, as Booth was clearly the superior there, but mentally. Peter was an empiricist, like herself. He was clear, analytical, focused on one thing at a time to get results… both in the lab and in bed. She couldn't help but wonder if Booth's sexual style was similar to his own work methodology. No clear focus, but passionate. Unyielding. Sometimes, relentless could be good.
But he was still quite irritating.
On the way back to the FBI building, her phone rang, and she saw that it was Peter. "Brennan." She sighed. "Peter, no. I can't. I'm not at the lab right now. Okay. Okay, fine. Yes. Yes, that would be sufficient."
She hung up the phone and turned to Booth. "I need to get back to the Jeffersonian."
"Now? We have to talk to Cullen and then see if we can track down Cleo Eller's bronze star."
"That will all have to wait."
"What the hell is so important that they need you at the lab?"
"If you must know," she said testily, "My son is there, waiting for his mother, because his father apparently doesn't understand the concept of spending-the-day-with-Daddy."
The SUV came to a screeching halt. "Wait. You have a kid?" Booth demanded.
"Yes," she said primly.
"You didn't think to mention that somewhere along the line?"
"I believe I just did. Now wipe that dumbfounded look off your face and get me back to my lab."
"This is exactly what I need," Booth muttered, pulling back into traffic. "Two women in my life with baby issues." He suddenly looked like he regretted giving her that particular piece of ammunition.
"Rest assured, Agent Booth, I have no issues about Parker," she replied, cool as ice. "So you can keep yourself fully occupied with this other woman's procreative concerns."
"Parker? And his father's name is Peter?"
"If you're going to make a Spiderman joke, save it."
"Oh-ho! Look who suddenly gets pop culture references!"
"You think you're the first person to make that connection? I knew you had an overdeveloped sense of self-importance, but this is really too much."
"I just thought you were too smart to find yourself an unwed mother."
She snorted. "Unwedded is exactly what I want to be. Peter and a series of other partners keep me sexually satisfied, and I am not yoked to some outmoded construct that one person can satisfy all my social and physical needs. And no one leaves dirty dishes in my sink."
"Wait a second. You're sleeping around?"
"This is an arrangement that suits me just fine. All of my partners" – he winced at the word – "are fully apprised of the limited extent of our entanglements. No one gets hurt."
"Geez, Bones. Way to be romantic."
"I have repeatedly requested that you not call me 'Bones.'"
They arrived at the Jeffersonian, and she let herself out of the car and headed for the building without so much as a glance over her shoulder. But she heard the other door slam and his quick footsteps chasing her into the building. Damnable man.
She swanned into her office and threw her bag in the general direction of her desk. Angela and Parker were sitting on the floor, having opened the wooden chest that doubled as a coffee table. She found it useful to keep a small selection of toys in her office, for the occasional times when she would have to bring her son to work with her.
"Hey, Sweetie - " Angela's greeting was drowned out by Parker's enthusiastic, "Mama!" Brennan grinned and shoved her coat at a slack-jawed Booth, scooping up the boy who was charging at her and kissing him on the cheek. Angela slipped out unnoticed.
Parker was talking quickly, his sweet, clear voice speaking fragmented sentences punctuated with giggles as she poked at his intercostal spaces. She settled down on the sofa with Parker in her lap, but she could feel Booth fidgeting behind her. When she turned to face him, she felt irritation at the stunned expression on his face. He didn't think she could be a good mother? She narrowed her eyes and decided to take the bovine by the cranial tusks.
"Booth, this is my son, Parker. Parker, meet my new work partner, Agent Booth."
"Hi." Parker waved. Booth appeared to find the child's steady eye contact unnerving. "My mama is an an-thro-paw-agist," he said solemnly, pronouncing the word as they'd practiced. "It means she studies people and bones." Parker looked to her for approval and when she nodded, he grinned at her pleased half-smile.
"Yes, I know," Booth said, a little dumbly.
"Wanna pway dinosaurs? I got wots of 'em."
"I have a lot of them, Parker," Brennan chided gently, and he repeated the correction without looking at her. He hopped up out of her lap and began to pull plastic figurines out of the chest.
"I'm… not really good with kids…" Booth hedged, shooting a nervous look at Brennan.
She rolled her eyes. "Just sit with him," she said, with less venom than she felt, since Parker was right there. Booth sat gingerly on the floor, folding his long legs under him and accepting the half-dozen dinosaurs Parker thrust in his direction.
While Parker was otherwise occupied, Brennan answered a few neglected emails, looking up after approximately ten minutes had passed. The two males were apparently absorbed in "taking over the world." A sudden fondness for Booth settled across her thoracic cavity, startling her. He was patiently allowing Parker to snatch toys from his hand and gamely making ridiculous animal sounds. He did not complain (as Peter would have) when Parker put a decapitated stegosaurus in his coat pocket.
She interrupted to say, "Agent Booth probably has to be going soon."
"This is actually kind of fun. Bones… he's incredible. He just used the words 'interspecies cooperation.' I hope you at least let the kid watch Sesame Street."
"Absolutely not. I don't approve of programs that encourage a lack of attention focus. Too much stimuli at once can cause sensory deficit, and I prefer that he study things which promote attention span. Like books," she said, finishing out typing a response. She looked up and saw Booths' open mouth and wide eyes. "What?"
"Geez, Bones. He's just a kid."
"A well-informed kid. He's playing appropriately, isn't he?"
"Aren't you worried he'll grow up to be a - oh, I dunno. A geek?"
"I've never understood the social stigma attached to intelligence and being academically oriented."
"You'd better be tall and handsome, rugrat. Don't worry, I'll show you how to toss a ball, how 'bout that?" he said, poking Parker in the belly and causing a fit of giggling.
"Well, I can concede that physical activity is important. It's part of my enrichment regimen, but not until he's four-and-a-half years of age."
"Bones," he said, shaking his head. "You are somethin' else." His phone beeped and he flipped it open. "Booth. Yes, sir. Right away," he said, his change to a more professional tone slightly awkward. He flipped his phone shut and slid it in his pocket, saying, "I've gotta get back to the office. You, uh, gonna be all right?"
"Yes, Booth. I've watched my son before," she said with amusement. Booth walked over and pressed a palm on her desk, leaning into her personal space and making her want to lean back, but she didn't. His proximity, the scent of his cologne, and the gleam in his eye made her heart rate increase. It was an assertive, predatory posture he struck, and she couldn't quite override her body's natural physiological response.
"I can't believe you didn't tell me you had a kid," he murmured.
"How is that pertinent to the investigation?" She hoped her breathing did not appear labored.
His voice dropped, growing husky. "I bared my soul to you, confessing my gambling problem, and you didn't think to respond with, 'I have a three-year-old'?"
"He was only two at the time," she murmured, allowing her eyes to sparkle up at him. "Besides, you were drunk."
"So were you," he whispered, with a glance over his shoulder at Parker. "It's just - if we're gonna be partners -"
"I thought you didn't like having a partner."
"This is different."
"How? You just called me your partner."
"Never mind." He shook his head, a look of frustration settling back between his brows. "I've got to go. He's a great kid, Bones."
"Yes, he is. Don't call me Bones."
"'Mama,' then?"
She scowled. His rakish smile threatened to make her smile in return, so she called out, "Say good-bye to Agent Booth, Parker."
"Grr," Parker said instead.
Booth waved. "'Bye, Parks."
"My name is Parker," the boy said seriously, his mother's disapproving wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows.
"Man, I can't give anybody in this family a nickname?" With a shake of his head, he swaggered out of her office, and Brennan waited for the butterflies in her stomach to subside.