The Rings in the Heart
Chapter 6 – What Lies Beneath
Disclaimer: I do not own BONES...but I'm thinking of changing my pen-name to Harts-b***h (but we should be careful what we wish for...n'est ce pas?)
Morning dawned over the eastern horizon of Pittsylvania County as around sixty thousand souls slumbered. It had rained for most of the night and puddles reflected the rays of sunlight that managed to penetrate the now diminishing cloud cover. Outside the neat motel complex, the black FBI-issue SUV was parked, splattered with mud picked up from road works along the US highway 29.
.
Booth and Brennan had been given adjoining rooms upon their arrival late last night. Both rooms had been put to good use, suit bags and forensic kits thrown on the bed in one room, the partners in the other. The tired crime-fighting duo had turned down the offer of a late supper from the Deputy that had been assigned to meet and greet them. Brennan had displayed a creased brow as she attempted to process Booths' protestations of fatigue despite his having slept for two hours while she drove. Booth dropped her a sideways glance and casually brushed his hand over the rear pocket of her jeans. He knew that the non-verbal message had been received loud and clear, as the 'light bulb' look flashed across her face.
Bones almost ruined the moment by helpfully announcing that she 'needed to get some booty sleep.' Booth jumped in to assure Bones and his local law enforcement colleague that it was actually 'Beauty Sleep' that she was referring to. Then Booth sabotaged himself by adding a qualifying comment to the effect that Bones was beautiful, and that she actually didn't need beauty sleep. The Deputy decided to excuse himself at this point, at this rate they were going to start pawing at each other in the parking lot and he didn't want to have to arrest them for public indecency – it was bad form to collar other cops, particularly Feds.
So they went to their room, and as usual, Bones was right, following the promised deep tissue massage to Booths' troublesome lumbar spine – booty sleep it was. Booty sleep was actually more of an oxymoron than a code for sex.
Booth cracked open an eye as a small shaft of sunlight managed to invade the motel room. He gave a small snort of annoyance as he reached over to grab his phone and squint at the time display. Great. Ten minutes before his set alarm. Realising that Bones was already up, he turned over to stretch himself spreadeagle over the bed. The bathroom door opened and Brennan emerged with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing only a white pair of boy-leg panties and matching cotton sports bra. She grabbed her dark blue overalls and stepped into the legs, bending forward to pull them up and pausing as she noticed that Booth was awake. From his perspective, spreadeagled over the mattress, she appeared to be upside down.
"See something here that you like?" she asked.
"Uh huh" replied Booth in the affirmative as she pulled the overalls up, put her arms through the sleeves and shrugged the garment over her shoulders.
"I always imagined that you would wear something a little different under those overalls Bones," mused Booth with a grin as he rubbed at the stubble on his chin. Brennan placed her overall clad arms on either side of his head and leaned down to engage in an upside down kiss.
"It gets warm spending hours in these overalls Booth, the lacy underwear tends to chafe a little. The cotton is a more comfortable and practical option."
"Actually, I thought that you would...you know, wear more than just underwear," ventured Booth, as he reached up to touch her still exposed torso.
Brennan smacked his hand away with a smile as she fastened the front of her overalls. Booth pouted and tossed the sheet back so that he could get out of bed. Brennan looked down at his unclothed body and raised an eyebrow.
"Honestly, I would wear less if I could Booth, clothing is quite restrictive under these. Hodgins actually prefers to wear as little as you are now..."
"Oh! Bones, no! Don't go there. Please? Seriously, I did NOT need to know that, okay?" cringed Booth, clutching his head and trying to shake the images assaulting his mind. He got up and headed toward the bathroom as Brennan chuckled at his discomfort.
As the sounds of the shower running began, Booths' voice drifted from the bathroom. "Hodgins is banned from my crime scenes. Period!"
Forty-five minutes later, Booth was more composed as he tucked into a stack of pancakes at the local diner. They had been joined by the local M.E. and the Sheriff, who were going through the increasingly common fan worship routine of the best-selling author at the table. He could almost set his watch by the conversation. 'Five, four, three, two,...'
"So, is Agent Booth the inspiration for Andy?" asked Dwight Preston, the local M.E., in his New Orleans drawl.
'Bingo Baby,' thought Booth, as he gave a non-committal shrug.
"Absolutely" replied Brennan with a smile, giving Booth a squeeze to the forearm as his jaw dropped. "Booth is a constant source of inspiration to me."
Dwight Preston narrowed his eyes and glanced at the Sheriff, who flinched slightly. Booth deduced that the M.E. had just won a bet. Bones could be more candid than a full page newspaper advertisement, but at least she wasn't making 'booty' faux pas this morning.
"The Sheriff here is going to drive the two of you out to the scene. We had some flooding last night with the rain and all, so the only access is using a service track until the water subsides" announced Dr. Preston. Booth got the feeling that pulling the chauffeur duty was a condition of their wager.
"The curing shed is a few miles outside Tightsqueeze, Agent Booth. We'll get there in maybe forty minutes," commented the Sheriff.
"Tightsqueeze is a place?" asked Booth.
"And reportedly a town name most likely to make American 13 year-olds laugh" replied Dr. Preston.
"Fascinating" commented Brennan as she leaned in toward Booth and added, "Sweets will no doubt appreciate the humour on his next birthday."
Booth braced himself. Bones was clearly sleep deprived if she was cracking jokes. He considered the possibility of suggesting an early night and then dismissed it out of hand.
A/N: Tightsqueeze VA is a real place. What Hodgins wears, or doesn't wear under his overalls is pure conjecture on my part.