Chapter 3: Snakes in the Drain

This is a secret fear of mine, lol. Thanks for the great reviews! Immediate clearing of writer's block at least for this and the next chapter. Who knows how long this fluff shall go on?

Omelets and mimosas served, the atmosphere in the apartment on a Friday morning was breezy and uncaring. They chatted briefly about their newest case, and Angela poked Hodgins repeatedly.

"Jack, seriously, " she frowned for the umpteenth time, poking his abdomen, "you're going to get fat."

"Fis isf only muwy forf muffin!" he protested around a mouthful of blueberries and sugar.

"Yes, Hodgins," laughed Cam, "but you've also had 2 omelets –"

"Booth makes good omelets!" protested Hodgins swallowing heavily.

"And three pieces of toast," chimed Brennan.

"Hey don't look at me," objected Booth, "a man's gotta eat."

"Exactly," nodded Hodgins, starting on his fourth piece of baguette with jam and another glass of mimosa.

"Booth," said Angela with a flirtatious wink that had Hodgins sneezing out flakes of bread he had inhaled, "You seem awfully hungry this morning. That's like your eighth helping of fruit, and you've had a bunch of eggs too."

Booth shrugged helplessly. "Calcium builds strong bones," he commented, taking a swig of milk straight from the carton.

"Is that my milk?" cried Brennan, noticing that Cam had not brought milk from the bakery.

"Sorry Bones; bones come first," chuckled Booth. Hodgins gave him a high five for the horrific pun and Cam rolled her eyes around her mouthful of strawberries.

"Sweetie," said Angela in a low voice to Brennan, "I've had one mimosa too many in the bladder department…"

"Sure Ange," said Brennan catching on quickly, "you know where the bathroom is." Angela gracefully got up and brushed her lap of crumbs into a napkin. After she had gone Cam swallowed and said,

"When's Parker's next tball game Booth?"

"Parker plays tball?" grinned Hodgins, "That was the most epic of sports. Even I played that one, before I realized my true calling for sports was in hurling."

"What's that? A drinking game?" Booth said, around a mouthful of eggs.

"Actually," corrected Brennan, "it's an Irish…" but she was cut off by Angela's panicked and/or outraged cry of:

"BRENNAN! COME HERE!" All of the adults stood up at once and rushed forward. Angela quickly came running from the bathroom, hands up.

"It's totally cool…" she panted, red faced. She looked Hodgins straight in the eye and then at Booth and emphasized, "it's a friend problem. A girl problem?" Booth's face immediately flushed and he stopped.

"Oh. Um, okay then. I'll…. Cam, Hodgins, you want more eggs?"

"Yeah man," said Hodgins, looking equally as awkward.

"Angela," offered Cam in a low voice, "I have some tampons…"

"No it's fine Cam," interrupted Angela, "I know Brennan has the kind I like…sweetie?" She practically dug her claws into Brennan's white skin and yanked her into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

"Ange," said Brennan in consternation, "you know where…" she turned around at that exact moment and her eyes widened. "…Oh."

Angela's foot began its rhythmic tap.

"Oh?" she said extra sweetly, "that's all you have to say? OH?"

"Oops?" guessed Brennan again, as she surveyed the mess. The floor was the most obvious problem; flooded and extra slick, the shampoo and suds that Brennan had had such fun flinging over Booth's extra sweet body had apparently not stayed inside the frosted glass of her sliding shower. Similarly, soy sauce handprints were pressed up against the glass; not just her handprints, but overlapping larger fingers and outlines of curved bodies also lined the shower. Their lovemaking and slippery falls had left the bathroom a mess. The inside cabinet behind the mirror had an open, hastily grabbed box of condoms, and even more embarrassing where the several used ones still sitting in the sink, when Brennan had adamantly refused to pollute the earth by flushing them. Angela was standing in the one clean spot next to the towel rack, her toes pointed as she bounced in place, what seemed to be her substitute with excited, angry pacing.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she finally burst out, when it seemed Brennan was simply staring at the mess. "How could you not explain this delicious looking, tousled/clean, cleverly hidden – "

"Mess?" Brennan finished for her.

"Relationship!" shrieked Angela. She dragged her voice pitch down two octaves at Brennan's widened blue eyes.

"I was not expecting morning company," she answered truthfully.

"That is so not the point," Angela hissed. "I'm your best friend this is what I'm for! This…" she waved an extravagant hand at the walls, "is what I live for. I have no life Brennan. Seriously. My activities consist of running and lusting after Hodgins. And sometimes Wendell."

"And work," supplemented Brennan. Angela gave her a pitying look.

"Sweetie, one day you'll realize the whole point of the week is for it to be over."

"The point of the week is to be employed in order to make a financial living."

"Yeah," nodded Angela, cueing her on, "to make money. To spend. On drinks. And condoms. And birthday cake. Or…birthday sex." Brennan winced.

"I know that it is completely rational for me to think this, but every time I imagine how Russ and I were conceived…"

"STOP NOW," commanded Angela, looking mortified. "That is not where I was going." There was a tentative knocking.

"Angela?" It was Cam. "I hear a lot of upsetting noises…I have Midol too…"

"Just a minute Cam!" said Angela, not wanting Cam to join the festivities. "Get this cleaned up!" she whispered fiercely to Brennan. "And don't you for a second think this conversation is over. And for gods sakes flush those!" She pointed a disgusted finger at the contents of the sink. She slipped quickly out to Cam and Brennan could hear her through the door: "We had a little accidental overflow of the toilet," she said pleasantly, "Brennan insists on doing her dirty work alone." Brennan felt her face flush at the unsubtle remark she knew was directed at Booth.

"I could never let her finish…alone," Booth complained, and Brennan felt her red face burn mauve with mortification. She heard a high tittering, and with that, she put them out of her mind and in a frenzy began slapping at the toilet paper and mopping the floor. After the floor was clean, she quickly dove into the cabinets under the sink and bleached the shower of every possible bacteria, closed and windexed the mirror, gloved up and flushed both sets of rubbers down the toilet (against her better, greener, nature) and only stopped when Booth knocked.

"Bones, hey…how's it going?"

"I'm almost done," she replied. "Hold…AGH!" She screamed a high-pitched little girl's scream and scrabbled at the door handle. It broke under her touch as Booth kicked the lock open and pulled the door towards himself.

"Bones! Bones! What's wrong? What's wrong?" There was a stampede of feet as the other three ran towards the bathroom. Still yelping, Brennan scampered behind Booth and cowered her face hidden in his back.

"It's in the tub," she whispered. Inching forward with his gun drawn, Booth shuffled forward, Brennan's fingers entwined into his shirt he had finally put on, and Hodgins' left hand on the small of Angela's back as they came last behind Cam.

"Oh. My. God," declared Cam, also retreating a hasty step. Hodgins - curiosity getting the best of him - dashed forward in delight at something disgusting.

"A reticulated python!" he shouted gleefully, "that sucker is huge!"

"It's the biggest snake I've ever seen in a tub," added Cam fervently retreating.

"Don't count on that tub," muttered Angela under her breath. Booth's gun wavered in the air.

"Angela," he said with gritted teeth, holstering the weapon. Hodgins went and stuck both hands in, picking up the snake.

"Hey little guy," he crooned; little the snake was not. A good four feet in length, it was a miracle it had managed to push the drain out of the tub's bottom and slither through. Brennan moaned at the long, unending snakeskin she saw caught there beneath her drain.

"Get rid of it! Get rid of it," she turned her face away.

"Hey Dr. B," said Hodgins in surprise, wrapping the snake around his waist, "I didn't know you suffered from ophidiophobia."

"Fear of snakes," whispered Brennan when Booth turned to her, still screening his body between her and the snake when she saw his confused glance.

"Bones got scared of snakes when we went after that murderer on Halloween."

"You dropped me," she said scathingly, her defenses going up and using her fear as anger towards Booth. "You dropped me in a pit of snakes. On my head!"

"After you shot me," he argued.

"She shot you?" gasped Angela.

"Once!" protested Brennan.

"In the leg," soothed Cam.

"So not near any vital organs," clarified Brennan.

"Or useful ones," smirked Angela.

"How does she do it?" wondered Booth aloud, his comment directed at Angela's extrasensory perception of relationships.

"She saw the bathroom," answered Brennan; the exchange was lost on Cam who was still gazing uneasily at the large python now comfortably being used as Hodgins' newest belt and on Hodgins, who was crooning and petting the snake's triangular head as one would an infant.

"Dude," he said to Booth. "You should totally give this sucker to Parker."

"What?" asked Booth in shock, "that thing just crawled out of Bones' tub!"

"Yeah, which means it was a pet, once upon a time," reasoned Hodgins. "At least it wasn't a toilet snake." Cam shivered.

"That's enough horror stories today," she said, holding a perfectly manicured hand up. "Dr. Hodgins, please get rid of the snake. I don't care where. Put it in the lab far, far away from me and Dr. Brennan."

"No problem," grinned Hodgins. "I love my job. Work just got 100 times better today. Mimosas and a python that can be used to smuggle illicit substances? DOUBLE win." Everyone glanced askance at him save Angela.

"Let's go Jack," she sighed. "The snake can ride in my car. Cam can you clean up?"

"If it means avoiding the snake," smiled Cam, her lips pressed tightly together in her signature smile that dimpled both cheeks, "I could trade jobs with you Angela."

"Ugh, and me cut and weigh human brains? Pass."

"Hey man," Booth said to Hodgins, "could you put the snake in a bag or something on your way out? I mean, it kind of freaks half the people in this room out. And these are scientist geniuses."

"Yeah, sure, no problem. Got a duffel?" While Booth went to retrieve the duffel, and after both Angela and Hodgins had made a hasty exit, Brennan went to help Cam clean.

"Where did this blender come from?" she asked in puzzlement, holding up what Hodgins had made the mimosas in.

"Oh that's mine," laughed Cam, "from the kitchen at the Jeffersonian."

"You do know what Hodgins has made in here correct?" asked Brennan complacently, trying to make, what Angela and Booth called 'small talk.' Cam looked immediately nauseated.

"Oh I forgot. Oh God. Yes, I remember Hodgins blending maggots in here…um, please excuse me." Brennan saw her rush to the kitchen to pop two pills from her purse and drain a glass of tap water. "Okay," she said looking none too pleased, "I've got everything. I will see you in an hour? I've got lab reports I need you to verify, and then hopefully we can all get out early for the weekend."

"That's the whole point of the week," echoed Brennan, trying to put Angela's advice to good use. She seemed to have successfully utilized it correctly because Cam flashed her a smile, stacked the leftovers in a bag to bring to the office kitchen and let herself out.

"Booth," Brennan called shakily, when everyone was gone. She almost collapsed on the couch, but remembering Angela's 'sticky' comment, she groaned and fell into a chair. He immediately bounded out.

"Bones," he returned.

"Angela knows," she moaned.

"I know."

"There was a big snake," she shuddered.

"I know."

"I'm not entirely sure how to process this morning's activities."

"Well work will be a snooze in comparison!" laughed Booth. "Even murder isn't this exciting."

"Are we doing the right thing?" she asked seriously.

"Bones," sighed Booth, dropping onto the couch, "sometimes it's not about right and wrong."

"What?" she scrunched her face in consternation. "With you it's always about right and wrong and black and white. That's why you hate the messy cases. They leave you drained."

"And you," he fired back. She nodded a reluctant admittance. "Sometimes Bones," he twirled a stray straw with a tiny umbrella glued into it across the backs of his fingers, "it's just about people. And these people," he waved his hand at her mother's birthday cake. "These people are good people. And they love us. And we love them." He didn't mention the love he felt pounding in himself for her. It was too soon; too much too soon.

"So you're saying," surmised Brennan, "that we're human?"

"Exactly Bones! Exactly!"

"That was an already established fact. We are, in fact, homo sapiens." Booth ran his fingers through his hair in acute frustration and leaned against the seat cushions. He jumped forward with a flash of his usual hot temper.

"Why is this sticky? Oh. Never mind. My fault." He took a deep breath and let it out again. "Bones…remember your father's trial?"

"Yes." She recalled th e incident very vividly. It was, as Sweets had tried to convince her of, what psychologists called a 'flashbulb memory' in which everything was saturated in detail because of severe emotional ties or trauma. She hated psychology.

"Do you remember what I said to you?" Without thinking she blurted,

"I always remember everything you say to me." She let her gaze drop to the coffee table where the partially eaten cake was covered with a glass bowel.

"I told you that the scientist got sidelined…"

"I'm still who I am!" she protested, "I'm still Dr. Temperance Brennan, and you are still Special Agent Seeley Booth. Just because we got into a physical relationship…"

"Bones! Stop talking for a second. First of all, what just happened wasn't just physical. Come on Bones, this is us you're talking about. We're partners. Best friends. We're not just run-of-the-mill anything."

"I never understood that phrase, by the way," she interjected.

"Secondly," he said, talking over her, "you'll never change who you are. And I never want you to. What I was trying to make you remember is that sometimes you gotta let your heart drive."

"You always drive," she said sourly.

"Nice slip," he smirked.

"What?" she blinked innocently. "I don't know what that means."

"Freudian slip? Very famous psychologist and his views on…"

"Booth, you know I hate psychology."

"Fine. Never mind," he said smugly. "What I'm saying is that not everything is rational. Some things just are." She squinted at him.

"Are you all right? I can't tell if you are speaking coherent English since your brain tumor."

"Bones, that was one time, about an hour after I woke up. That's not relevant."

"Don't jump to conclusions," she scoffed.

"Bones! Just…let this one work itself out."

"Humans are the only truly proven sentient creatures. We have to work everything out for ourselves. If this mythical divine being you believe in…"

"Me and half the world Bones, me and half the world."

"What I'm saying is…"

"What I'm saying is just let it stew for a little."

"Stew?"

"Steep, soak, simmer etc with the tea analogy. Just let our personal stuff be ours. Between us okay?"

"So it's a secret."

"Nothing is ever a secret."

"What about national security?"

"Bones…I believe as you would say to Mr. Nigel whatshisface…"

"Nigel Murray."

"Try to be relevant." They were silent.

"I have to change Booth," she said finally.

"And I have to run to my place and pick up new clothes; can't show up in yesterday's suit!"

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones?"

"I…uh…I…I don't actually know what to say in this situation."

"Don't worry about it Bones, morning afters are always awkward. Back at the office, you can pretend this never happened."

"Can I still come to Parker's tball game?"

"Of course! I can't believe you never played. Parker's super excited to show you how to swing."

"I was never supremely coordinated," she warned.

"Parker's a great coach," Booth assured her. He stopped, his eyes burning into hers again. "You'll be okay?" She swallowed.

"One more thing?" she pleaded. He winked.

"Sure thing Bones."

"Pour Drain-O down the tub? Please? I can't look at…" He started laughing.

"Gotcha. Roger, wilco and out." He disappeared into the bathroom, and she perused her closet. By the time she had outfitted herself appropriately he was gone.