A/N: I'm a broken record at this point, I know, but thank you so much to everyone who's reading along. Extra special thanks to those who take the time to leave reviews. I appreciate it so much.
Angela's back and probably by conclusion of this installment, you'll feel like we've reached an ending, but there's actually more coming. We're just changing direction a bit.
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"So… I totally tortured Booth yesterday."
Angela announces this gleefully as she flops down on the sofa in Brennan's office. It's barely eight fifteen and her friend is already hard at work, analyzing images on her computer. She has it on good authority from Jamie, the morning security guard, that Tony, the graveyard shift guy, didn't see Brennan – and Booth, Jamie slyly added – leave the lab until almost two o'clock last night. Now, a mere six hours later, it's as if Brennan never left. Her work ethic is the stuff of legends, and Angela can only watch with admiration since her morning coffee hasn't kicked in just yet and she's of no use to anyone.
Well, she is alert enough to discuss the sudden and dramatic turn in Brennan and Booth's relationship. She certainly doesn't need a jolt for caffeine for that.
"Did you hear me?" she asks when Brennan fails to acknowledge her presence. "I totally accosted Booth yesterday. He turned like five shades of red and started pacing around your desk like he was square dancing or something…"
Finally Brennan reacts, nodding absently, her eyes still fixed on her computer screen.
"Yes. He mentioned something about that."
Angela laughs.
"I bet he did. Did he also tell you that this is really all your fault?"
This catches Brennan's full attention, and she looks up, regarding Angela quizzically.
"My fault?" she says. "How am I responsible for you cornering Booth and making him uncomfortable? You know as well as I do how sensitive he is regarding his private life. And you've enjoyed prodding him about it long before I was involved in any capacity. I fail to see how I'm responsible in any way."
"How are you responsible?" Angela says with a smile. "Come on, Bren. It's obvious. First of all, you start shacking up with the hottest FBI agent this side of Fox Mulder without mentioning a word of it to your best friend even though she's been…"
"Shacking up? I don't know what that means. And who's Fox Mulder?"
"…dying for this very thing to happen for years. Then, when you finally do drop the bombshell, you only do so in metaphorical terms, without providing the slightest bit of detail for inquiring minds, and saunter off like you've just told me that you bought a new pair of shoes. Then, you're conveniently tied up with a set of bones all freaking afternoon and night so I can't drag anymore info out of you, leaving me with no choice but to confront the boy toy and leave him…"
"Boy toy? Booth is hardly a boy, Angela."
"…all redfaced and twitchy in the corner. And yes, sweetie, I've noticed that Booth's all man, but if want me to refrain from killing you in a fit of envy and jealousy, it's probably best to stop emphasizing his many physical attributes."
Brennan cocks her head, turning her chair slightly to face Angela directly. Her expression is dubious at best, and yet Angela notices the brightness of her eyes, the bloom of color over her cheeks, the way everything about her seems uncharacteristically soft and glowy – and after only a few hours of sleep too.
Yeah. Somebody definitely got lucky last night.
"I still fail to see how this is my fault," she says.
Angela throws her hands up in frustration.
"God. Didn't you listen to a word I just said?"
Brennan nods.
"I did. But frankly, I don't find your argument all that compelling."
Angela watches as she turns back to her computer, scanning the images on her monitor once more. Brennan's all about work again, and Angela can only sigh, pushing herself up from the sofa to move toward the desk. She tilts her head, studying her friend as if a new angle might bring enlightenment.
"Bren, sweetie. Why didn't you tell me about you and Booth?" She keeps her voice low and soft, with no accusation or judgment in it all. "Why wouldn't you share something so amazing and important with me? You two have been dancing around one another for years now and I've been rooting like crazy for you guys to finally get a clue. You had to know I'd be happy for you. You had to know I'd excited for you."
For a moment, Brennan doesn't move. She stares straight ahead at her computer, shoulders rigid, and Angela has to wonder if she's said the wrong thing. It's hard to tell with Brennan sometimes because sometimes she's all Teflon, nothing penetrating at all, and others she's listening harder than anyone knows, feeling it all more than anyone knows.
She looks up eventually, and Angela's not sure what she was expecting exactly but the giddy, almost girlish smile that she's treated to is certainly not it.
"I thought about telling you, Ange. I *wanted* to tell you," she says. "But then I considered the fact that Booth is an intensely private person and that he probably wouldn't like it if I shared intimate details regarding what has transpired between us, so I thought it best to wait until he was slightly more comfortable. It was nothing personal, I assure you."
Angela nods emphatically. She perches herself on the edge of Brennan's desk, making herself comfortable.
"I knew it!" she declares. "That's exactly what I told Booth."
"Excuse me?"
"Well, he seemed a little upset that you'd told me about the whole broccoli thing so I-"
"Must we persist in using this ridiculous broccoli euphemism?" Brennan asks. "We are rational, intelligent people. Surely we can use the term 'cunnilingus' without feeling self conscious about it?"
Angela wrinkles her nose.
"It's so clinical, though. Can't we say that Booth likes going down on you? Is that clear enough for you?"
"I suppose. It is slang but…" Brennan says. She grins suddenly, like a child with a secret. "And he does. Very much so. In fact, in reference to your assertion that women always have to ask men to perform oral sex, the first time we were together sexually, there wasn't even a chance for me to ask. He made his feelings on the subject extremely clear."
"Oh, I bet he did," Angela laughs. She leans in just bit, her only concession to privacy. "And how he is? I mean, enthusiasm is great but if there's no technique to back it up then…"
She shakes her head sadly.
"There is technique," Brennan says, and there's an almost wistful tone to her voice. "He is incredibly skilled. The muscles in his tongue must be extremely well-developed because it's quite powerful."
It occurs to Angela, how surreal this conversation is, how disorienting it is to have a long-standing curiosity satisfied (because it's easy to look at Seeley Booth and decide he's sex on a stick, but she's been around the block enough times to know that looks only mean so much between the sheets.), and she wonders if Brennan felt the same way at that pivotal moment, when she stood across from Booth in some dark room and realized that everything between them was about to change.
It's almost overwhelming.
Almost.
She's still got plenty of curiosity that needs satisfying.
"What about the other stuff?" she asks. "What about the main event?"
Brennan laughs.
"Booth was right. He said you'd press for details."
"Well, he's a very smart boy," Angela says with a smile. "So? I'm not asking for measurements or anything… though if you want to share that information, I'm more than willing to listen."
Stubbornly, Brennan shakes her head.
"Angela, come on. I already told you that Booth views the things that we do together as something very personal and private. I want to try to respect that… and I've already said too much already."
"Oh, sweetie, please. Just a little something. Just a tidbit." She grins ferally. "Like he is strictly a missionary man or does he like it when you're on top? Oooh, knowing how aggressive he is, I bet he likes to take you from behind. He does, doesn't he? Booth likes to bend you over whatever flat surface he can find and go to town…"
The secretive, little smile returns to Brennan's lips, though it seems like she's doing her best to fight it.
"He does enjoy that, actually," she confesses. "The other night, he did it on the kitchen counter while I was in the middle of making dinner. It was extremely stimulating. He also enjoys having sexual relations in the shower quite a bit. He especially likes it when I fellate him under the spray and-"
"Uh, Dr. Brennan?"
Both women glance toward the doorway in surprise, where Wendell Bray stands, shifting uncomfortably. He has a file folder pressed to his chest, almost like a shield, and he seems to have a difficult time making any eye contact whatsoever with his professor.
"I just wanted to let you know that I've finished cleaning the bones," he says. "What would you like me to do next?"
"Fast work," Brennan says with approval. "Check the femurs and the tibiae for any microscopic fissures. I suspect that we're missing something there."
He bobs his head.
"Sure thing, Dr. Brennan."
He scurries from the room like someone's lit a fire under him, and Brennan looks up at Angela, eyes narrowed speculatively.
"Do you think he overheard?"
Angela shrugs, unconcerned, because she's pretty sure Wendell did overhear but there's no point in telling Brennan that. She'd only corner the poor kid about it, make him feel even more awkward and uncomfortable about the whole thing. It's best for everyone if Brennan stays blissfully ignorant.
"I doubt it."
"He seemed very uneasy," Brennan says, glancing back toward the hallway where Wendell just disappeared.
"You make him nervous, sweetie. That's nothing new."
Brennan frowns.
"I make him nervous? Why? Why would I make him nervous?"
"Oh, I don't know… maybe because you have ridiculously high standards and his entire future rests in your hands. But that's just a guess."
She nods, considering this.
"I suppose that makes sense. But Booth would definitely not be happy if Wendell overheard. I am confident of that."
"I wouldn't worry about it, sweetie. Even if he did overhear anything, I seriously doubt he's going to run around telling everyone. He's not a fifteen year old girl and this isn't study hall." She laughs, shaking her head. "Honestly, he'd probably be off in a corner somewhere, trying his damnedest to rid himself of any mental images of you and Booth going at in the shower…"
"I hardly think such an image would be as traumatizing as you're suggesting," Brennan says, gathering some scans from her desk. "Booth and I both demonstrate superior bone structure and our-"
"Bren, it doesn't matter how hot your boss and her boyfriend are. You don't want to be picturing them going at it like rabbits, okay?" She rubs Brennan's arm affectionately. "This is what life is like on planet earth."
They head toward the door, and Angela finds herself thinking that this is what best friends are for: for doing the heavy lifting in rough times, sure, but to be here for moments like these, when Brennan is happy and excited and has no idea what to do with those feelings.
She watches her friend as she effortlessly slips back into professional mode, and Angela sees that that's what this has all been about – not extracting juicy details about her friend's sex life like she's reading an article from a sleazy tabloid, but sharing in the things that make her life full, happy, rich.
"I know I can trust you to be discreet regarding Booth and me," Brennan says now. "I think he knows that too. He just…"
Angela grins.
"Freaked out?"
"Yes," she agrees with a smile. "He did freak out."
Angela twines her arm with Brennan's, sighing dreamily.
"I think it's sweet. He's so protective of your relationship."
Brennan nods, smiling softly.
"Booth is a good man," she says.
"I know. I'm just glad you finally decided to do something about that fact..."