Chapter 4: All the Boys in the Yard
As always, the reviews were amazing ;) keep 'em coming. I have enough ideas for the next chapter as well, so hang tight.
"You're avoiding me," accused a voice, "I've been trying to talk to you all day." Brennan looked up, dazed from her computer at Angela's distinctive silhouette in the doorway.
"That is correct," admitted Brennan, trying to resume working. There was an ominous click as Angela pulled the door shut behind her. She stalked to the couch and sat down, foot tapping. For a moment, Brennan tried to keep working, but after several loud sighs, and the unceasing tapping sound, she reluctantly, with almost shaking legs, took the seat across from Angela.
"What," started Angela menacingly, softly, "what were you thinking." Brennan flinched.
"What?" she started upset, "Ange, it just…it just happened."
"What?" frowned Angela, "sweetie, I'm not upset that you've slept with Booth, sweetie," she chuckled throatily, "I'm thrilled, tickled, overjoyed," she squirmed in her seat with each word, "that you two finally got your heads on straight. I mean, whew," she fanned herself with a hand. "We have to go over this in slow details."
"Oh," said Brennan, nonplussed, "then why are you…"
"Furious!" screeched Angela suddenly, "because you should have called sweetie. You should have told me."
"Ange," began Brennan awkwardly. "This was the first…"
"Oh," blinked Angela, equally derailed of her tirade, "the first time? Oh," she grinned guiltily, covering her hand with her mouth. Her embarrassment quickly turned to lusty curiosity. "Well…how did it start?"
"He followed me to Bone Storage," Brennan blushed, quickly straightening magazines on the glass table.
"You two did it in Limbo?" gasped Angela.
"No!" Brennan hurriedly interrupted, "we just…kissed," she smiled awkwardly as she blushed a little harder. "I was upset and…Booth was being Booth." She shrugged. "He suggested take out, and I suggested my place – we weren't actually planning anything else. As I passed you, I thought…I thought that was it."
"Oh. My. Lord," shuddered Angela, "And to think I was so close to interrupting you. Oooh, I could kick myself. I could have ruined everything!" She continued berating herself until Brennan held up a hand.
"Ange, stop. Seriously," she smiled. Angela grabbed her hand across the table.
"Mmm, honey, come sit by me." Rolling her eyes, Brennan allowed Angela to reel in her arm hand over hand until she walked around the coffee table and sank into the cushion next to her. Immediately, Angela threaded her arm through her best friend's. "So tell me," she smiled seductively, "about the car ride. Tell me everything. Every little salacious detail." Brennan's face burned.
"We can start with the car ride," she agreed cautiously. "It was horrible; we thought we had made a mistake and when we got to my place, I couldn't help…" she trailed off.
"Couldn't help what?" Angela prodded.
"I…" she looked at the floor, "I…cried." Angela immediately pushed against her arm.
"You didn't," she said mortified. "Brennan! Brennan! Oh God, why? Why would you do that? That's so, so…"
"Well it turned out fine," snapped Brennan remembering her vulnerability all too well.
"Wait what?" asked Angela, huffing, rant paused mid sentence.
"Well we just…it was like we picked up where we left off," confessed Brennan, uncomfortable with the brushing too close to details. She remembered Booth's words echoing familiarly in her head: What's ours should just be between us.
"I have never tried that," echoed Angela dumbly. "Maybe I should play the broken card more often." Brennan wrinkled her nose and to her intense relief, the door to the office banged open.
"Bones?" called Booth, coming around the couch. His eyes widened a little as he saw them sitting together, arms intertwined.
"Jealous Booth?" teased Angela, pulling Brennan closer.
"Ange," she protested, pulling away and jumping up. To Booth she scowled, "I'm mad at you."
"What?" he was completely thrown. Angela frowned disapprovingly. "Why Bones? What did I….is this about the couch? I swear I'll have it…"
"Ew!" coughed Angela suddenly. "Oh my God Booth? Ew! Seriously? The couch…Oh the couch was sticky…oh…" she ran from the room, rubbing furiously at her clothes.
They both chuckled until Brennan realized they were arguing again. "I'm mad," she huffed crossing her arms. He grinned at her, tugging at her elbows.
"Come on Bones," he wheedled, when she refused to be coaxed out of her aggressive stance. "What's up now?" She swallowed and looked pointedly down between them. Blushing and scowling now, Booth took a step back, the air suddenly cold and flooding the gap between their too-warm bodies.
"You broke my door," she complained. "The bathroom. The door handle is broken."
"You screamed," he said defensively, unconsciously mimicking her stance and crossing his own arms. "There was a snake in the tub!"
"Don't remind me," she snapped. "Hodgins has been in and out of here all day. He named it Kaa and his been taunting me with it all day. I don't know why he named it such an absurd appellation though." Booth chuckled.
"That's the name of the hypnotizing snake in the Jungle Book. It's a good movie, I show it to Parker when I feel he's not getting enough old school Disney."
"What?" she asked, for a moment sidetracked.
"Come on Bones," he said in outrage, taking a step forward, his hands falling to his sides, "Come on! You know, Sher Kahn? The tiger? Mowgli? The wild child raised by Baloo the bear and Bagheera the panther?"
"A feral child would never be raised by a panther," she said scathingly, "especially not a male; it would be devoured." Booth rolled his eyes.
"My point is, you were screaming, so I kicked the door in. I'm sorry. Next time I just won't save you."
"I don't need saving Booth, I'm not an infant."
"Fine," he glared.
"Fine."
Angela walked in on them having a stare down, jaws clenched and hands fisted.
"Trouble in paradise?" she chortled. Neither looked at her, until Booth said,
"You actually felt the need to change clothes?" Angela looked defensive and crossed her arms.
"Yes."
Brennan pursed her lips, trying not to laugh.
"So you ready to go Bones?" Booth asked, his anger apparently forgotten. She grinned, hers dissipating into thin air even as Angela watched.
"Where are you two going?" she asked frowning. "Brennan, I thought we were grabbing drinks…having some girl time?" she winked as she said it.
"Bones is coming to Parker's tball game," insisted Booth. "Parker's been asking all week."
"Sorry Ange," Brennan apologized, "I forgot."
"I know Bones," grinned Booth, "Which is why I packed you some clothes."
"What?" she asked, shocked. She grabbed the bag from his hand, and realized that not only was the bag her own, but all the clothes inside were as well.
"You don't want to get your work clothes all sandy," he said, his little boys grin lighting up his face as she reluctantly smiled back, looking up from the open zipper.
"You think of everything," she accused.
"It's my job Bones," he laughed, placing a hand at the small of her back and steering her towards the door, "It's my job."
Brennan sat in the bleachers behind what she had learned thus far of the sport, 'home plate' with the other parents. She was sitting conspicuously alone in the middle of a segregated stand. All the fathers and males were sitting or leaning against the left side of the bleachers yelling at the kids and yelling shots at the umpire – a pimply faced kid around 15 looking to make some cash – and chuckling about their athletic sons on the field. On the right side of the bleachers, the mothers lounged; none quite so dressed up as Brennan, since very few of them had jobs. The smattering of teachers and office managers were wearing the occasional slacks, but their tennis shoes and hats they had pulled on belied their professionalism. There was one woman who was a doctor, outfitted in black scrubs with pink lining, but her attention was riveted on her other daughters milling about, and her pager; the other women did not talk to her. Brennan, likewise, sat isolated in the middle of the bench.
Her ears pricked when she heard Booth's name.
"Mmm, my yes," laughed one of the mothers, "Seeley Booth, the assistant coach and most eligible bachelor out here."
"He's so good with the kids," laughed another.
"And so easy on the eyes," chimed another, anonymous voice.
"His son Parker is his perfect little replica," said another voice, "I can just imagine how adorable that man was with his curly hair as a kid."
"Mmm, mmm good."
"He brought someone today," cautioned another woman, her voice lowering. They all leaned in conspiratorially.
"His partner I heard."
"What kind of partner?" asked a panic stricken voice, "like a…life partner?" There was an uncomfortable tittering among them all.
"Or his police partner?"
"Or his…girlfriend?"
"Friend with benefits?" guessed a younger voice; they all laughed again. Brennan felt the bench sink beside her. She turned in surprise to see the golden haired, middle aged doctor sitting next to her. Up close, her scrubs read in comfortable, scrawling script that was also on Brennan's own lab coat: Dr. Katrina Walsh, MD. OB/GYN.
"Which is yours?" she asked pleasantly.
"Oh," confessed Brennan, confused but pleased to be cut off from the other mothers, "none…"
"I know," smiled Dr. Walsh, "I just was too tired of them ogling a man much to young for half of them and much too beautiful for the rest of them. I knew he came with you because you're obviously the most attractive woman here."
There was a scandalized silence on the other side of the doctor, and Brennan suppressed a smile.
"Anthropologically speaking," she said slowly, "they do represent a subculture of urbanized suburbia. It's not uncommon that they would be attracted to someone or something that deviated from the norm."
"I'll bet," nodded Dr. Walsh. She offered a hand. "Katrina."
"Dr. Temperance Brennan. I work at the Jeffersonian." She scrambled for a moment, unsure of what to say before she caught Booth watching her and he made a gesture with his hand to talk, four of his fingers forming a mouth when meeting his thumb. "Which," she asked awkwardly, "is yours?"
"None," returned Katrina. "I'm not even from DC; I'm here for a conference. That," she pointed a finger at a honey brown haired young woman, helping Parker to swing, "Is my daughter. She attends Georgetown and is looking into Yale law school. I came to visit and she insisted on me coming to her "brother's" game."
"I'm sorry?" asked Brennan in confusion. She watched the young woman, whom she guessed to be about twenty one, move onto help another boy. This one was olive skinned with black hair; he was the only minority on the team, and Brennan couldn't even tell what race he was.
"Taylor works with Tony; his name is actually Antonio Suarez, and he's an intercity foster kid in a bad situation. While Taylor was interning for an adoption firm, she met Tony by accident. I'm not sure on the details but she babysits for him now and has really taken an interest in turning his life around."
"You must be," said Brennan, around the lump in her throat, "very proud."
"I am," smiled Katrina, "but I go home to Dallas tomorrow. The only strange thing is how much she idolizes your man."
"Partner," corrected Brennan.
"She worships the ground he walks on, anyways," shrugged Katrina. "And not just for his looks; she's a little young for him." Brennan laughed in agreement as Dr. Walsh walked away, holding her hand out to Taylor for a goodbye. The young woman laughed, rushed to hug her mother and Brennan turned away from the scene she would never get to play out.
She was intensely aware of the blatant gawping and once overs she was receiving from the women on the right side of the bleachers.
"Hiya Bones!" piped Parker, dragging his bat after him and lining himself up to the tee. "Watch this," he grinned over her shoulder, before smacking the ball between the legs of the opposite team's second baseman.
"Go Parker!" cheered Brennan as he dashed around the bases. He stopped, hovering on third, only to be high-fived by his father the third base coach. His high, clear voice could be heard chattering a mile a minute as the next little boy lined himself up for the hit. Acutely aware of her spot on the bleachers and her isolation, Brennan grabbed up her bag after high fiving Parker herself through the fence when he scored, and quickly strode into the bathroom to change for after the game, and to avoid the awkward conversation of the mothers as the game ended.
Rifling through her bag, Brennan was mildly surprised to find clothes she would actually wear inside. Momentarily disconcerted that Booth knew every aspect of her life so well, she put it out of her mind and pulled on her favorite pair of jeans, her running shoes for karate and a purple tank top she often wore under her oxford button down shirts. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail and stuffed her work clothes back into the bag. She slung it over her shoulder and peeked out of the restroom only to find herself face to face with a very disconcerted woman opening the door.
"I…uh…please excuse me," said Brennan, stepping outside and rushing away. She found Booth and Parker on a bench in a concrete structure Booth had told her the name of but she had promptly forgotten.
"Bones!" shrieked Parker. "You're done changing! Didya see my hit? Didya? Didya see me score? I was such a BEAST!"
"Yeah," she chuckled, "I did. And even though I don't know what that means, I totally agree Parker. You excelled your peer's ability by…"
"Good job buddy," interrupted Booth with a significant glare at Brennan telling her that that was all she needed to say.
"Dad says," puffed Parker, "you need my help learning to play ball. I'll be too old to play tball soon, and I'll have to start playing baseball. But I guess if you just aren't good enough to play with me then, well, we can still play tball just us okay?"
"Thank you Parker," laughed Brennan while Booth wiped a hand over his face in mortification. Parker grabbed her hand unconsciously and dragged her to the empty field.
"Dad!" he called over his shoulder, "get the tee and balls okay? I got Bones."
"Sure thing buddy," he grinned. "But I get to get Bones next time."
"Okay Bones," instructed Parker, holding up the bat. "You just hold it like this, uh-huh, and then, SWING!" Brennan jumped back a pace as Parker almost knocked her ribs through her abdomen.
"Easy buddy," warned Booth, "you don't want to be reckless and hurt anybody." Parker shook his head seriously.
"I'm real sorry Bones."
"It's okay Parker. Maybe you can show me again?"
"Here Bones, use this bat. It's a lot bigger. And hold it like this," Booth moved up behind her, his arms covering hers, their backs perfectly aligned and his warm, big hands guiding hers as he showed her how to swing slowly.
Brennan was pretty sure she would never remember the lesson in her life. The slow, arching movement of the bat let her feel the straining muscles of his abdomen, biceps and hips grind excruciatingly slowly against her and as she swung, her hands shook embarrassingly.
"I…I got it," she nodded, a faint blush staining her cheeks. As he stepped away, she caught a glimpse of an insanely jealous face of a mother driving past in her minivan.
"You sure?" he teased, his own dark eyes even darker with something dancing behind them. "You were awfully shaky there Bones."
"The bat gets heavy dad," protested Parker, "It's only her first time."
"It's only her first time," echoed Booth, "I gotcha." Brennan grinned a silly little girls grin.
"Parker you're pretty lucky to have a dad like Booth," she commented, swinging gingerly away from the group so as not to knock out any of Booth's more important assets.
"I know," said Parker fervently, "he's the best." Booth swooped down to chuck Parker in the air, but even as he did so, his eyes were on Brennan's. It was the closest declaration she would ever say aloud concerning her own family. Her eyes met his briefly before she stood behind the tee. With the two Booths cheering her on, she swung magnificently and with a loud crack, she felled the tee like a sapling.
"Oh," she said in shock, watching the ball wobble and tip to the ground. "That's harder than it looks."
"Like this Bones," chuckled Booth, quickly snapping the bat to and from his shoulder. Irritatingly, his bat made a satisfying crack that had the ball sailing in a perfect arc to the edge of the fence.
"Wow Dad!" said Parker, jumping up and down. "Do it again!" Brennan moved in closer.
"Come on Booth," she cheered. Feeling cocksure and preening under their praise, Booth made a big show of scratching the dirt with his shoes and spitting into the sand over Brennan's disgusted sounds. Winding dramatically up, he took a giant swing backwards, feeling his bat connect solidly with the post behind him, before letting loose a huge swing and the ball getting shot into the sky and over the fence. He jumped and let loose a loud whoop at his "home run" but turned to Parker when he realized he was the only one cheering.
"Dad?" said Parker with a frown on his face.
"What buddy? Why aren't you cheering? That was a great hit!" Parker pointed his finger. Booth followed his line of sight and to his horror, right behind where he had been standing was a crumpled lifeless form in a purple tank top.
"Bones!" he yelled, dashing towards her and sliding to a stop on his knees. "Bones!" He gently turned her over and was horrified to see a bleeding gash in a semicircular shape of a bat over her left eye.
"I thought I hit a post," he murmured frantically to himself, "I thought…" He turned to Parker. "Buddy! Buddy, why didn't you tell me I had hit her?"
"She just fell," Parker said, his voice rising to a whine, "She just fell and didn't get up. It was only a couple seconds. Dad? Is she gonna be okay?"
"I don't know buddy, I don't know. Grab your stuff. Leave the tees."
"But Dad…" Booth glared at him.
"I'm serious Parker, just leave them. Get all the stuff to the car." As he spoke, he scooped the lifeless form up in his arms and began his quick army clip to his black SUV; the only one left in the parking lot.
He laid her body in the back seat and strapped both seatbelts over her lifeless form and started the car, switching on the sirens, and scrambled to strap Parker into the front seat over Parker's protests he was too young to ride in front. Slamming the gas to the floor, Booth was on his cell phone in seconds weaving in and out of traffic as Parker, white faced, clutched the handle of the door.
"Rebecca? Yeah it's Seels, I've got an emergency here. Can you pick Parker up from the hospital? That's right, the hospital. No, no he's fine…Rebecca, it's…" his voice hitched, "it's Bones…I'm running her in now. It was faster than an ambulance. She just hit her head, but she's…she's not waking up."