A/N So glad to have the wonderful pax mundi on my team! Thanks for the help :D
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my soul, and I even lend that out on occasion, but only if you ask nice. Anything that even looks familiar in this story probably belongs to someone else (except the actual story - that's all mine, Mine, MINE [*maniacal laughter*]!)
Chapter Two: The Obligatory Shower Scene
This time Brennan had the coffee already sputtering away when the knock on the door came. Booth and Parker stood there, still damp from their swim.
"Hey, Bones." Booth's eyes drank in casual Brennan; hair unstyled and curling haphazardly around her freshly scrubbed face, baggy grey sweats, pink singlet top, barefoot. Adorable. And utterly oblivious to the effect she had on him. He dropped his eyes, uncomfortably aware that he'd probably been staring at her. Her toenails were painted the same pink as her top … who'd have guessed? Parker pushed past him when the door swung open, already completely at ease with her and at home in her apartment. It took the kid – what – two visits? Booth wondered why he couldn't be more like his son and just relax. He found himself staring at her again for a long moment, a sappy smile on his face.
"Coming in, Booth?" There was nothing other than friendly politeness in her tone, but still he took heart at her words. Her smile was open and welcoming and she looked pleased to see him. He'd called last night to check that it was okay to bring his son for a swim, and she'd taken the call at the lab. There'd been a mass grave recently unearthed in France and they'd sent several sets of the World War One skeletal remains to the Jeffersonian, hoping she could identify them. Although it disturbed him that she was still at the lab, Booth considered the fact that she wasn't headed out on a date with some damn loser to be a plus in his book. They hadn't had a case in almost two weeks, and she'd immersed herself in identifying the fallen soldiers, only coming out to play at the diner for lunch two or three times. He missed her, missed the daily contact. Booth admired the persistence and dedication she'd given to her task, but knew the eventual toll it would take on her. He wanted to save her from herself, from getting buried in work. He wanted to get her to look after herself better. He wanted to – ah, shit, who was he kidding? Booth just wanted her.
He let Brennan lead him into the living area. There was nothing partner-like in his enjoyment of the view he got by letting her take the lead … the view was so good from behind. Parker had zoomed around the apartment for a minute or two and was now leaning heavily on a low glass-topped table on the other side of the room, poring over its contents. The table was inset with a deep shelf that was divided into about forty little sections, the sort of thing most people used to display collections of seashells or toy cars or matchbooks. Booth hadn't seen it before; he guessed it was new.
Each section of Brennan's table held a small object of some kind, but apart from being able to see they were all quite small, Booth couldn't make out what they were. Parker was mesmerised by all the different things that were stored there.
"Hey, Dad, what's this thing?" His eyes were round and he turned to his father excitedly. Booth altered direction and went over to his son. The little boy was idly scratching his rear end until his father lightly swatted his hand away, admonishing him under his breath about his manners. Brennan came up beside him and they both leaned over to inspect the intricately carved object that had caught Parker's attention.
"A two headed penis totem of the Han dynasty." Brennan informed them matter-of-factly.
Booth froze, bent over the glass topped table, as her words penetrated his brain. He swallowed, frowning slightly. "Yeah. That's what I thought it was." The deep flush of embarrassment that swept over his features was involuntary. He kept his eyes locked on the ancient figurine in its compartment, unable to look at her or for that matter at his son.
"It's carved from jade." Brennan was mildly surprised at how fascinated Booth appeared to be by the totem; usually he was so reserved about this sort of thing, but she was happy to tell him more about it if he was interested.
"Right. That's what I thought it was." Although his reply was a little stiff, he was still studying the totem closely.
She put her hand out to unlatch the glass top of the table. "Would you like me to take it out so that Parker can have a closer look?" She was smiling encouragingly. "It's generally accepted to be one of the first proofs of the existence of lesbianism in Chinese history."
Booth made a strangled noise, alarm shooting across his face. He snuck a glance at Parker but the boy was caught up studying the table's contents. "Did you have to go there, Bones?" he hissed at her. He put his hand on Parker's shoulder, nudging him away from the table. "Okay, that's enough buddy." When Booth rolled his eyes exaggeratedly at her she knew she'd messed up somehow, and she screwed up her face in confusion: what had she said that was wrong?
Booth was trying to think of a way to divert his son's attention. "How about we go look at the stuff on the bookshelf, Parks? Bones has got a really cool book on old guns." He put his arm across his son's shoulders, trying to manoeuvre him away from the table and whatever other bizarre surprises it might contain.
"But Dad, I want to see the tooheddabeenus thing." The little boy turned rebelliously to Brennan - brows drawn together fiercely, his lips in a thin line, the oh-so-familiar jutting chin - reminding Brennan instantly of his father. "I want to look. Please can I? Is it a kind of dinosaur?"
She was about to answer Parker's question when she noticed that, apart from trying to resist his father's urging, the little boy was wriggling in a strange way. Her eyes narrowed and she studied him more closely; he was trying desperately hard not to scratch and beginning to look forlorn in the process. She leant down towards him. "Booth, I think maybe Parker needs a shower. The chlorine mix in the pool must have been pretty strong – actually I can smell it on him from here." She straightened and then leaned towards Booth, sniffing loudly in his general direction. She wrinkled her nose and looked at him pointedly. "Maybe you'd better have one, too."
Booth made a show of checking his armpits. "What are you talking about? I can't smell anything?"
Brennan went on as if he hadn't spoken, her attention back on Parker. "I think it's irritating his skin and making him itchy. He appears very uncomfortable."
Booth dragged his eyes away from his partner and turned to his son, concerned. "Is that the problem, buddy?"
Parker nodded briefly, biting his lower lip, torn between wanting to see the dinosaur and having a really good scratch, both of which apparently his dad wasn't keen on him doing. How could a kid win?
"We'd better get you home, buddy." Booth turned to Brennan, shrugging his apology at having to leave so abruptly. He made to go and get his keys from where he'd thrown them on the kitchen countertop but when he turned back, Brennan had found a couple of thick fluffy towels from a nearby closet and was pressing them into his hands.
"I think the logical thing would be for Parker to have a shower now rather than wait, Booth. He's going to be a lot more comfortable the sooner he gets the chemicals off his skin; the effects of the chlorine are more likely to increase exponentially." She regarded him calmly, confident she was right.
Booth watched his squirming son for a second; the poor kid was really looking miserable. He took the proffered towels with a few words of thanks and led Parker away to the bathroom. A couple of minutes later the little boy was covered in suds, with instructions not to make a mess.
Booth stopped, his hand on the doorknob, the sounds of his son's tuneless singing, the thrum of the water, the steam curling around him. It felt weird but kind of nice to be in Bones' bathroom, with Parker under the shower. He glanced around curiously; the room was huge compared to the cupboard in his apartment that served as his bathroom. He checked his reflection in the mirror. Not too bad, but maybe he should have shaved this morning. What the heck, it was Saturday. He looked at his reflection again as the steam started to obscure it, and his reflection grinned cockily back at him.
His focus shifted and he realised the glass actually concealed a cupboard. He shot a guilty look over his shoulder and, giving in to an overwhelming urge to snoop, he opened the doors. His eyes scanned the shelves; Tylenol, antihistamines, something called ylang ylang in a little brown bottle with a dropper on the top, open packet of disposable razors (pastel colours, thank you God). He pulled the top off a bottle of lotion and sampled its scent, dotting the end of his nose with cream in the process. No wonder she smelled so good all the time. He replaced the lid quickly and put it back on the shelf, using the back of his hand to wipe the tip of his nose before he sneezed from the tickle. Red bottles, blue tubes, pink tubs … what was all this stuff for, for crying out loud? And what the hell were pore strips? He kept fossicking. Baby powder, nail files, peppermint foot soak, anti-inflammatory gel. His eyes skidded past the box of tampons at top speed and he picked up a pair of what he thought were scissors to distract himself, but then he had a second look, his eyes narrowing, puzzled. They had handles like scissors, but the ends were curved in a semi-circular arc. What the - they looked like an instrument of torture? If women were a mystery, Bones was an enigma. He tossed them back on the shelf with a faint shudder, sending a packet of q-tips flying. He fumbled the catch and leant down to pick them up from the floor.
That's when the blood rushed to his head, making his heart thud erratically; when he spotted the small black cardboard box. The q-tips found their way back onto the shelf blindly and he thrust his hands in his pockets, staring at the new find. He squinted sideways at the discreet writing. Ribbed – who knew? He stared at the carton for a few more seconds, then turned abruptly away, resolutely bleaching his brain of the images that exploded in his head. He mumbled something encouraging to his son, closed the mirrored cupboard doors gently, and beat a hasty retreat out of the bathroom.
Brennan was curled up on the sofa when he returned, his son's giggling murmurs filling the background with homey notes. She had two steaming cups laid out ready on the coffee table and she'd bought oatmeal-raisin-choc-chip cookies, his favourite. He pushed down the guilt at the little bit of cupboard trolling he'd just indulged in, replacing it with a hedonistic daydream of this little domestic scene being repeated on a regular basis.
He came too as Brennan passed him his coffee with a comment about the research she'd been doing in Limbo. He'd been working way too hard these past weeks. They both had. He sat down at the other end of the sofa with a sigh, Brennan's bone china mug disappearing in the clasp of one of his large hands, a cookie in the other.
"Thanks Bones." He murmured appreciatively, blowing on the steaming, dark brew. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, each enjoying their coffee, Booth munching his way through another cookie. Booth spoke. "Parker's feeling better already."
"I'm glad." She paused, something obviously on her mind. There was a little v-shaped wrinkle on the bridge of her nose. "Booth, why were so you annoyed with me before?"
He looked at her, a smile curling his lips. "Bones, you've gotta warn me when you're going to come out with things like that, especially in front of Parker."
"Things like what?"
Booth screwed his mouth to one side, anticipating the grief this conversation was going to give him. He reached for another cookie; maybe he'd get heartburn and that'd take his mind off the next two minutes. "The two-headed … you know."
This time it was her turn to roll her eyes. "Penis, Booth. The word is penis. And if Parker doesn't know what that is by now I think you should really think again about his education …"
"It's not the – the … penis." Colour suffused his face again and he scratched his neck, irritated. "It's the two headed lesbian bit that I was worried about."
"But why? Lesbianism and the use of simulated phalluses are well documented throughout history and have a permanent place in modern culture."
"Not an eight-year-old's culture, Bones." Booth responded dryly, shifting uncomfortably on the buttery leather sofa.
Brennan pursed her lips and turned his statement over in her mind, before looking over at him diffidently. "Wait, so you're saying it was inappropriate to discuss it with Parker?" When he nodded, a faintly rueful look curling his features, she looked down at her hands. "I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable, Booth."
Booth sighed. She could be so clueless sometimes; why did it have to be so cute when she was? "Forget about it. No harm, no foul." This only seemed to make her more worried and he hastened to put her at ease. "No harm done, Bones." He reassured her gently.
Brennan smiled at him but said nothing, still looking faintly discomfited and he scrabbled to fill the void with words. "Got another hot date lined up?" She gave him a perplexed look and he rushed to explain. "After Brian the Orthodontist didn't work out, I thought maybe you …" His voice trailed off as the expression on her face changed to dismay. "Ah, come on, Bones. You've got to admit –"
"Booth." She said warningly, "Please don't make fun of my choice in men again!"
"Wha-at?" He drew out the word, pretending not to understand her meaning, playing for time because of course he was going to make fun of her choice in men again. He scratched his neck absentmindedly. Let's face it; they'd all been losers. Okay, maybe not Sully; Sully was a good guy. Booth hated his guts. That gave him pause; just a few unresolved issues there. "Now come on, I try to give you a sense of perspective, make you laugh about these things, don't I?"
She laughed, "Yes you do. Sometimes not even on purpose." Her face became serious again. "I try to take people at face value, but perhaps my expectations are too high. People rarely live up to them. Except you, Booth." Her delivery was matter-of fact, and she turned towards him, slightly wary but otherwise outwardly composed.
He frowned comically, not sure how to respond. Her expression was calm and steady as usual, but she'd said a hell of a lot in just three words. His brain clamoured to catch up to his heartbeat, and lost.
Without warning, Brennan slid across the space that separated them, her expression intent. She stopped just short of their legs touching and he found himself torn between relaxing into the warmth of her or maintaining the status quo and edging far enough away that he could no longer feel the prickles of sensation her nearness was producing. His thigh literally tingled and he longed to run his hand along its length to relieve the feeling, but he found himself frozen, waiting.
"Bones, wh-what are you doing?" His soft words didn't halt her progress. The hairs on his arms stood erect when she moved in even closer, staring at his face, trying to fathom … what? Her gaze slid downwards and he felt its trail across his skin, burning where it touched. What was going on - was she making a move? Finally? He could feel his pulse rate start to clamber unsteadily as her eyes lingered on the vee of flesh visible at the open neck of his shirt. The heady scent of her shampoo pervaded the air, catching him off guard. She continued to stare, heavy lidded, and the weight of her scrutiny brought goosebumps of awareness to his skin. She reached out her hand, one finger extended, and he felt its feather touch on the side of his neck. Could she see the crazy leaping of his pulse? He thought his heart would stop altogether when she placed her finger ever so lightly at the top button of his shirt and gently tugged …
"Booth, you're breaking out in hives."
"What?" He released the breath he didn't even know he was holding in a whoosh, completely sideswiped by her words. He nudged her away none too gently, trying to see where she meant, but all he managed to do was bump heads with her. The tingling he'd felt was turning into a full blown burning sensation, and he raked his nails down the length of his arms in an effort to get rid of the feeling.
"Stop scratching, you'll make it worse!" Brennan's concern was genuine but Booth wasn't in the mood for her to be right this time.
He tried to shrug off her advice, his tone edgy. "It's nothing – it's just psychosomatic."
She leaned in again, inspecting the rash, "You've already got a couple of angry looking welts and your neck is getting really red. All of which means it's actually somatic, Booth."
"That's not a word." He replied sullenly but even as he spoke, he started to feel itchy - you know, there, and he crossed and uncrossed his legs awkwardly. Brennan noted the movement and gave him a troubled look.
"Would you like me to check it out?"
"Bones!" Booth pulled a cushion across his lap and Brennan frowned at him.
"Your chest, Booth, do you want me to have a look at your chest?"
"Nuh-uh." He sat, tense and tight lipped for about three seconds. "I think maybe I need that shower after all." Without another word he got up and strode to the bathroom, letting the door thump closed behind him. Brennan sat where she was, bemused by Booth's odd behaviour until after a moment Parker appeared, all pink and freshly scrubbed.
"I think Dad's mad about something." He handed Brennan a towel and she looked at it, nonplussed. Parker lifted it up and put it over his head. "Rub." he instructed. Brennan realised he wanted her to dry his hair so she tentatively rubbed, but he put his little boy hands over hers and made her really scrub at his wet hair, giggling when she got over enthusiastic, and then making a long "ahhhh" sound, his voice vibrating in time with her not-so-gentle ministrations.
Brennan's hand's stilled immediately "What's the matter - am I doing something wrong?" she asked, concerned.
"Nuh-uh. I just like the way it makes my voice go all funny." Parker replied, grinning up at her from under his towel bangs. "Don't stop."
She resumed the hair drying. "What makes you think your Dad is angry?" Parker had started the ahhh-ing again. It reminded Brennan of Tibetan throat singing, in a funny eight-year-old sort of way, and that made her smile.
Parker shrugged, "He was talking to himself when he got in the shower, and he always talks to himself like that when he's angry, and he doesn't want to lose his temper and shout and stuff."
"Well, I'm sorry that he's angry, Parker. I'm sure he doesn't mean anything by it." Whatever the little boy had done to invoke his father's ire, Brennan was sure Booth would have forgotten about it within a few minutes, and she wanted to reassure him. She absently smoothed her hand over his hair, separating the curls and tidying things up a bit.
"Don't worry about it." Parker said guilelessly, "He's not mad at me."
Brennan's smile slipped when she'd processed the implications of that, but Parker had already moved on. He plonked himself down in the same seat his father had abandoned a few minutes ago, his legs too short to reach the floor, sticking out at an angle.
"Dr Bones, how come you never come for a swim with us? You've got that great pool there and everything." His eyes lit on the plate of cookies. "Can I have one, please?"
"Sure." Brennan passed him the plate. "I don't really have the time, Parker." She took a cookie for herself, taking a first chewy bite, not willing or able to try and explain to Parker why she shouldn't, or couldn't, go swimming with him.
"You're not doing anything now, are you?" The indisputable logic of a child.
Brennan stopped chewing. "Well, I guess that's true, Parker." She let herself consider the idea for a moment. "Actually it is a very efficient form of exercise."
"My dad says swimming's really good for making your lungs strong. I can hold my breath under the water for ages." He scooted over to her end of the sofa, raising his eager little face to hers. "Will you come swimming with us next time? I can show you how good I am at staying under the water. Please?"
Brennan's clear-eyed grey collided with Parker's warm brown plea and suddenly there was nothing that needed to be explained. She came to a rapid decision. "Okay."
The junior version of Booth's charismatic grin shone from his son's face, and Brennan found herself responding with a wide smile of her own.
~o0o~
And that's how it really started; Brennan becoming Booth's hamlet of eight hundred people. But whether it was to be, or not to be, still hadn't been decided.
~o0o~