A/N - The mojo might be a little off with this one because I'm still kind of reeling from the finale. LOL
Thank you again to everyone who's reading along. You're all wonderful!
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These days, Cam feels like she's running on empty.
She's got a teenager at home, who always testing the limits with cigarettes and tiny t-shirts that expose equal parts belly and breasts and boys with fast cars who lay on the horn instead of ever coming to the door. It makes Cam feel old, to be the warden, to be the one enforcing the rules and shaking her finger like a school marm. Worse, she remembers how ancient her mother seemed when she was sixteen, how hopelessly out of touch and uncool, and she worries that Michelle sees her the same way.
The thought annoys and exhausts her all at the same time.
And then she comes to work in the morning, where all too often she feels like a babysitter, like if she looks away for just a moment, they'll be bouncing frozen turkeys and smashing watermelons all over the damn place, with wild abandon. Dr. Brennan is out in the field with Booth too often to chaperone, and somehow Cam thinks she'd encourage it all even if she were, all in the name of scientific inquiry or some bullshit.
Days like today, when there's little usable evidence in their case and only Brennan still seems interested in the work, are the worst. Booth dropped by earlier, ranting his frustration all over her office, and she'd had to dig through her bag afterward for a Tylenol, the ache behind her eyes like a living breathing thing.
She needs a damn vacation.
Somewhere hot and tropical. Where cabana boys bring you pina coladas whenever you snap your fingers and the blue, blue ocean lulls you to sleep at night.
That's what she needs.
So when she looks up from the mountain of paperwork falling in an avalanche across her desk and sees Jack Hodgins sauntering into her office, looking way too pleased with himself for her liking, she's ready to reach for the Tylenol bottle again.
"Any progress on the sediment from the right tibia?" she asks briskly.
"Not yet," he says in his maddeningly frequent know-it-all tone.
He's excited about something, she can tell, and if it's not the work, she shudders to think of what it might be.
"Is there something else then?"
He cocks his head, like he's considering her question very seriously.
"I was looking for Angela, actually. She wasn't in her office so I thought she might be here …"
"Nope. I haven't seen her all morning actually."
He rubs his chin, thoughtfully, like he's contemplating something again and Cam's not sure that she likes Jack Hodgins thinking that hard about anything – it usually means trouble.
Well, more trouble than usual.
"Hey," he says, and she notices that there's an almost gleeful tone to his voice. "Have you noticed anything different about Booth and Brennan lately?"
It's not the question that Cam was expecting and she leans back in her chair, annoyance slipping away as she considers the subject more seriously.
"Different about Booth and Brennan?" she repeats. "Like what? This morning, I heard them bickering about some intuitive leap he was making regarding the Franklin case, with Booth pointing out that science and rationalism hadn't yielded anything particularly useful either, and then they went to the dinner to get some coffee. Pretty much your standard morning for them…"
Hodgins grins, like she's told a particularly funny joke.
"I wouldn't be so sure."
"What does that mean?" she asks.
He smirks again
"It doesn't have to mean anything," he says. "It was just an observation…"
It's clear from the way he smirks afterward, from the way he crosses his arms against his chair with an air of superiority that it's a hell of a lot more than that, and Cam grits her teeth, trying to resist the urge to actually snarl at him.
"Okay, Dr. Hodgins," she sighs, as tolerantly as she can manage. "You caught me on a really bad day and I'm kind of running out of patience here. We're in the middle of a pretty high profile murder investigation so unless you think there's been some change in Booth and Brennan's relationship that affects how they work together, I think we're done here…"
She stops herself from actually shooing him from the room, which is probably a mistake, because instead of heading for the door, Hodgins perches himself on the corner of her desk, smiling yet again. She nearly flings her pen to the desk in frustration.
"Actually," he says, drawing out the word for dramatic effect. "I have it on pretty good authority that their relationship is doing just fine these days. Better than fine, even."
"Okay. Great. What is your point then? Because you know… middle of murder case. No solid evidence. Booth getting cranky. Not exactly the recipe for a good day and-"
"I've got Grade A, choice gossip here and you're brushing me off? Think about that, Dr. Saroyan. Do you really want to do that?"
"Gossip?" she says. "That's what this is about? Get back to work, Dr. Hodgins. If I feel the need for some juicy gossip, I'll pick up a copy of The Star at the check-out line tonight…"
But Hodgins still doesn't move, his smile as smug as ever. She could fight him, she knows, but she thinks ignoring him is probably the best tactic. He'll get bored eventually and go-
"They finally did it."
She doesn't even glance up from her paperwork.
"Who?" she nearly groans. "And what?"
"Booth and Brennan," he says immediately. "And It."
She whips her head up, his mood suddenly making sense.
"It?" she repeats incredulously.
He nods.
"Yep. *It.*"
Cam hopes that her mouth is hanging open and that her eyes aren't as wide as saucers – because damn if Hodgins wasn't right.
This is the juiciest gossip around this place in a long time.
A long, long time.
Maybe ever.
"Dr. Brennan told you this?"
Hodgins shakes his head, still wearing that infuriating smile.
"She told Angela and Angela told you?"
He shakes his head again.
"Booth told you?"
"Are you serious?" Hodgins snorts. "That guy would sooner take out a billboard on I-95 about it then confide in me."
Cam lifts her shoulders in confusion.
"Then who?" she demands. "Who told you?"
His grins widens, if that's at all possible, and she realizes anew how much he's enjoying this.
"Wendell."
Her brow furrows in disbelief.
"Wendell?"
Hodgins nods once more.
"How the hell would Wendell know something like this?" Cam says. "Did he walk in on them or something?"
"That would have been awkward, huh?" Hodgins laughs. "I probably should be a friend, let them know about that little used supply closet near Middle Eastern studies. And where all the security cameras are… "
"So Wendell didn't walk in on them?"
"No. Apparently he overheard Brennan and Angela discussing Booth's likes and dislikes in the bedroom. I'm guessing it didn't leave a whole lot to the imagination since the poor kid's suffering from PTSD as a result…"
"He's sure? He didn't just hear Angela being Angela and make some assumptions or something?"
"Oh, he's certain," Hodgins says with a smirk. "Extremely so."
Cam shakes her head, not sure how to make sense of all of this.
"Why wouldn't they just tell us?" she wonders. "Seeley and I have been friends for years. We were more than that a time or two. I don't know why…" She trails off, her cheeks warming. "I mean, he couldn't possibly think I'd be hurt. Not after all this time."
Hodgins shrugs.
"Well, apparently they didn't tell any of us, so…" He laughs. "Except Angela. But then I suspect she probably dragged it out of them."
"Why are they keeping it a secret, though? Did they think we'd all freak out? Make too big a deal over it?"
"Wait. So we're not going to hang a big banner that says 'Finally' over the platform and applaud the next time they show up together?"
Hodgins laughs at his own stupid joke, but Cam shakes her head.
"I don't get it," she says. "I mean, how long did they think they could keep this from us? We'd find out eventually so-"
"We did," Hodgins corrects. "We found out."
"What's the point?" She shakes her head again, pushing her chair away from the desk. "That's it."
"What?" he asks, swiveling around to watch her head for the door. "Where are you going?"
"Right to the source."
.