Thanks for the reviews. This is way overdue, I know, but with my other fic winding up, I will (hopefully) be able to update more regularly.
Chapter 2.
Brennan was already dressed and ready, waiting in front of her building with her suitcase at her feet when Booth arrived to pick her up the next morning.
"That's what you're wearing?" he asked as he hopped out to help her with her luggage.
She was dressed in khaki shorts and an olive green tank top with a white button up knotted just above her belt, a broad-brimmed hat in her hand and hiking boots on her feet. "What's wrong with it?" she insisted, inspecting the offending outfit with a frown. "This is what I always wear on vacation."
He stifled the laugh that was threatening to escape. "Nothing, it's just that we're going to a resort, not on a trek through the Amazon rainforest. Don't you own any beach gear?"
"Like what?"
He shrugged. "Board shorts, flip flips… I don't know, a sarong?" Something that didn't make her look as though she were auditioning for the part of Lara Croft in the next Tomb Raider movie; although truth be told, the whole sexy archaeologist thing was undoubtedly a huge turn on for him and any other red-blooded male.
"I have a sampot that I got last time I was in Cambodia," she told him. "It's like a sarong."
He sighed, shaking his head. No one could say that he hadn't tried. "Nevermind, Bones, you're fine," he told her. He reached past her for her suitcase. "Now give me your bags and let's go."
"I don't see why we have to drive all the way to Baltimore to catch a flight," Brennan complained as they travelled along the parkway that separated the city from DC. If they'd gotten on the plane at Dulles like she thought they were going to then they could be on their way to their destination by now.
"Because it's cheaper, okay?" Booth explained in a defensive tone.
"Not when you take fuel into account," she felt compelled to point out. Then again, he did have a government vehicle, which he tended to misuse at times. Like now.
"You're not gonna keep that up the whole time we're away, are you?" he asked, shooting her an exasperated look. "Because if you are, then maybe we should just turn around now."
"Doing what?" She wasn't aware of doing anything wrong.
"Nitpicking everything I say."
"I do not 'nitpick'," she told him. She couldn't help it if she was more intelligent than him. And that almost everything he said was irrational.
"Yes, you do. You're doing it now."
"I am not," she insisted, noting with a sigh that it was quickly becoming a circular argument.
He smirked. "Yes, you are."
The whole exchange was reminiscent of similar ones she'd had with her brother when they were children. "How is it that I possess multiple degrees, including a doctorate, and yet you manage to reduce me to a ten-year-old whenever I'm around you?" she mused out loud.
She meant it as a rhetorical question, but as usual, he couldn't pass up the opportunity to annoy her further. "I don't know. I'm just special, I guess."
It was her turn to look exasperated. "That was not a compliment, Booth."
He grinned. "Really? Because I thought it was."
He was doing it on purpose, she decided. He wanted to drive her to distraction. She sunk back into her seat, folding her arms across her chest. "You are an insufferable man," she told him.
"If I'm so insufferable, then why did you agree to come on vacation with me?" he asked her. "You could've stayed in the lab and played with your old bones."
Why indeed? She'd been asking herself the same question ever since she accepted his invitation. She settled for the simplest answer. "Because I'm tired of everyone saying I don't know how to have fun," she admitted. That was all. It had nothing to do with him. "I have fun. I can be very fun."
He let out what she could only assume was an involuntary snort. "Looking at dead bodies all day is not fun, Bones. Quad biking, white water rafting, now that's fun."
"Those are both highly dangerous activities, Booth," she reminded him. Not only that, but they served no real purpose when there were plenty of vehicles more suited for safe, reliable travel. "Each year, approximately seven hundred people are killed in all-terrain vehicle accidents in the United States alone."
"That's not that many," he argued.
"It is if you're one of the victims," she insisted. "I once identified—"
He cut her off before she could launch into a detailed description of the hundreds of breaks and fractures the man had sustained as a result of being thrown from the bike and crushed between two trucks while travelling along a rural highway. "Okay, new rule – no more talking about death while we're on vacation, comprende?"
"That's Spanish, Booth." Surely he wasn't one of those ignorant people who thought that Jamaica was part of South America? If he was, then she might have to reconsider their entire working relationship.
He glanced over at her with a puzzled expression. "So?"
"Jamaica's local language is Jamaican Patois," she explained.
"Rule number two," he declared loudly, ignoring this remark, "No more talking until we get to the airport."
"You said I would never have to fly coach again," Brennan reminded Booth as they took their seats at the back of the plane, right near the rest room.
Of course she would get the window, while he was sandwiched between her and some guy who was built like a sumo wrestler. He leaned as close to her as possible without actually climbing into her lap. "If you wanna pay for an upgrade, be my guest," he told her, hoping that she wouldn't, unless she wanted to take him with her, "but you know, unfortunately, we're not all on the New York Times bestseller list."
"You're the one who keeps bringing it up," she complained. "Anyone would think you were jealous of my success."
Here we go, Booth thought. He let out a haughty laugh. "That's ridiculous. I am not jealous of your success, okay? I was just pointing out that I'm not as rich as you."
"It sounds like you're jealous."
"I am not jealous," he insisted through a clenched jaw.
They continued to argue throughout take off, earning them dirty looks from their seatmate, until a flight attendant shushed them. By that time lunch was being served so they busied themselves with their meals instead.
After a full day of travelling (and bickering) they were both relieved when their cab finally pulled up in front of the hotel at the resort and they could go to their separate rooms.
Booth unpacked the essentials, then finding nothing of interest on TV, went across the hall to see how Brennan was getting on.
"Hey! How come you get a view of the ocean?" he asked, stepping out onto the tiny balcony that was identical to his except for one huge difference. "Mine looks out over the parking lot."
He turned back to her in time to see her shrug with feigned nonchalance. "Just the luck of the draft," she told him smugly as she continued transferring her clothes from her suitcase to the hangers in her closet.
"Draw, Bones. It's 'the luck of the draw'."
"Why don't they say 'draft'? It would make more sense," she insisted.
To her, maybe. "It has to do with card games," he explained, coming back into the room. "You know, you should swap with me." He was pretty sure that she wouldn't, but he had to try.
She glanced up at him with a dubious expression. "Why would I swap rooms with you when mine is better?" she asked logically.
"Because this was supposed to be my vacation," he reminded her. "You wouldn't even be here if I hadn't invited you."
She shook her head stubbornly. "No way. If you don't like your room you can ask them to change it at reception but this one is mine for the next week and a half."
If he did that, they would probably wind up on completely different floors. "Fine, keep your room," he agreed with an exasperated sigh, making himself look as dejected as possible in the hope that she would take pity of him and change her mind. She didn't, forcing him to admit defeat. "How about we get settled in and meet down at the bar for dinner in, let's say, an hour?"
Booth was the first one to arrive at the outdoor lounge where the bar was located, seating himself at one of the round wooden bistro tables where he could watch the door.
When his partner finally appeared, he saw that she had changed into a pair of sandals and a purple sundress, her long auburn hair, still damp from the shower, hanging loose over her bare shoulders.
"You look nice," he told her as she pulled out the stool next to his and sat down. He couldn't remember ever seeing her look so casual before.
She smiled at the compliment in one of her rare moments of girliness. "Thank you. The dress is Angela's. She doesn't approve of my clothing choices either."
Her tone was so matter of fact, without the slightest hint of offense, that he couldn't help but grin. She was the strangest woman that he'd ever met, but that was what made her so wonderfully unique. "So, Bones, what's your poison?" he asked her.
She stared at him blankly. "I don't know what that means. I don't have any poison."
"It's an expression," he explained. "It means, 'What would you like to drink?'. I'm buying. You know, as a thank you for coming with me." Despite their earlier differences, he really was grateful for her company. The hours that he kept meant that he didn't have many friends aside from the people he worked with, and of those, she was arguably the closest.
"In that case, I'll just have a beer," she said without looking at the menu.
"Look around you," he said, gesturing at the pool, surrounded by palm trees and Polynesian umbrellas, and beyond that, the beach. "We're in Jamaica, baby. At least try something weird and fruity." He slid the cocktail list across the table towards her.
She picked it up, studying it critically. "'Sex on the Beach'? That doesn't sound very comfortable. I imagine that sand would get everywhere."
"You've never tried it?" he asked, surprised. She'd always given him the impression that she was more sexually adventurous than that.
"No," she admitted. "Do you think I should?" She cast a contemplative eye around lounge as though assessing the possibilities.
It was a good thing they hadn't ordered yet or else he probably would have choked. It had never occurred to him that she might be planning to pick someone up on this trip. He figured it would just be the two of them. He felt his chest tighten in a way that he wasn't sure he was comfortable with. It wasn't like he had any reason to be jealous of the clown she hooked up with. He loved Tessa, or at least, he thought he had, until she made it clear that going on a romantic vacation with him was the last thing she wanted to do. And even if he didn't already have a girlfriend, a holiday fling with his partner was sure to complicate things once they got home.
"You know, it's really none of my business what you do on a date," he told her, desperate to get off the subject. He was used to talking about sex with his guy friends, but not only was she a woman, but she was also a very attractive woman that he'd actually considered sleeping with for a brief period in the not too distant past.
"What about you? Were you planning to have sex on the beach with Tessa?" she asked sympathetically.
She always knew how to cut right to the chase. "I don't really feel like talking about Tessa,"he admitted. By taking the trip without her, all he was really doing was prolonging the inevitable. He just couldn't see any future for them anymore – not after listening to what Angela had to say – and he was determined to tell her that the next time he saw her.
"You don't want to talk about work, you don't want to talk about Tessa… What do you want to talk about?" Brennan asked him.
He considered this for a moment before settling on a neutral subject that was sure to keep them occupied for a while. "How about what we're gonna do tomorrow?" he suggested, passing her the stack of brochures he'd collected from the hotel lobby.
For those of you who are worried, I have a plan for dealing with Tessa. Booth is not a cheater and I would never make him one! (Or you know, Brennan a dirty mistress.)
Since they're on vacation, I'm pretty flexible, so let me know if you have any ideas for fun activities you would like to see them doing (especially anyone who's actually been to Jamaica) and I'll try my best to work them in. On that note, another quick poll: how AU do people want me to go with this? Friendly flirtation or full blown romance?