Author’s Note: Thanks so much for the lovely thoughts! Here’s a little surprise for you – probably now what you expected, but I thought I’d play around a bit.

Disclaimer: I just love imagining them. But no, they’re not mine. *sigh*

7. What Angela Saw

Despite her not exactly uneventful life, Angela Montenegro would be hard-pressed to name a more awe-inspiring sight than the one unfolding before her eyes right now.

Is Bren... humming?

Watching her friend move with her usual precision around the table, Angela swiftly overcomes her initial response (How come Brennan knows a hummable song? Not that I didn’t try to help) and moves on to the more interesting issue: finding an explanation. Her vivid imagination instantly conjures a number of scenarios, ranging from her favorite but most improbable (involving her friend, a certain FBI agent and a variety of locations suitable for hot, uninhibited sex) to the least favorite but most probable (the arrival of some dusty old bones from a long-forgotten corner of the world).

It’s Monday, her brain helpfully supplies. She sighs. If it were anyone else, she would bet on a weekend of happy togetherness involving two consenting adults and a boatload of pleasant activities. But this is Bren, so having spent Saturday and Sunday in eager anticipation of some weird specimen is equally likely.

Before she can reach a definitive conclusion, both her contemplation of alternatives and Brennan’s humming are rudely interrupted by a loud clatter. Bending to retrieve the pen she has inadvertently dropped, Angela decides that this is an ideal test case for the world-famous Montenegro Technique of Unobtrusive Data Collection, leading to a suitable Action Plan.

She is presented with the opportunity to initiate Step One a few hours later, when Booth bursts into the quiet lab with his usual finesse, clapping his hands loudly.

“Come on, Bones, payback time!”

Angela’s ears prick up. She is sitting in front of one of the giant computer monitors on the platform, with her back towards the two, but her artist’s mind has no trouble filling in the visuals.

“What are you doing here, Booth?”

Sweetie, try not to smile when you’re doing the “I’m a busy, no-nonsense scientist” thing.

“Time you paid me back for this weekend”, the FBI agent replies.

Gleeful rubbing of hands accompanied by his best charm smile. No way Bren can resist. And what exactly did they do this weekend?

“I have a lot of work to do, Booth. I’d appreciate it if you got to the point.”

“Hello, did you even hear me? This is the point: you owe me!”

“I do not!”

“Hey, it’s only fair! You dragged me out of bed and forced me to do what you wanted, so now it’s my turn!”

Is it really possible for my eyebrows to touch my hairline? I need a mirror.

“I don’t see...”, Brennan protests feebly.

“I’m reciprocating, Bones. Reciprocating, y’know? Partners do that sometimes. Trust me, you’re gonna like this. Let’s get going now.”

Bren – I want details, you hear me? I want all the juicy details! As soon as you come back and not a moment later!

A playful elbow nudge from Hodgins makes her lose her train of thought.

“Hey, Ange, you’re doing that thing again!”

“What thing?”

“The thing that Brennan does with bones, except you do it with people.”

Angela’s knowing grin could power the whole city.

Step one – find out who’s making Brennan happy – has been completed.

To her own surprise, Angela’s curiosity takes a back seat when a glowing Brennan returns that afternoon.

“You look happy”, the artist says, suddenly unsure whether she wants this to be a preamble to cheerfully extracting information.

“I am happy, Ange.”

Something in her friend’s expression – reserved, almost bashful – stops Angela in her tracks. Best-laid plans be damned. There will be no interrogations, no sneaky best-friend comments and no well-intentioned advice.

“I’m happy for you, sweetie. You deserve it.”

Brennan smiles that secretive smile of hers and returns to work. Angela watches her for a second and then continues what she was doing.

On Friday, they are due to attend one of the numerous functions that the Jeffersonian’s largesse seems to prescribe at regular intervals. Despite not being known for her punctuality at these events, Angela arrives early. She is therefore in a good position to observe Brennan and Booth come in together, deeply engaged in an animated discussion. She looks 1950s elegant in a dark-blue dress and high heels, her hair up in an elaborate style. He looks positively yummy in a tuxedo, his powerful body wonderfully emphasized by the sharp cut of his clothes.

“I love it when you two do the force field thing,” Angela whispers to Brennan a while later, a suggestive smile on her face.

“It is scientifically impossible to generate a force field, although there have been some plasma experiments recently. And I don’t see how this applies to me and Booth,” the anthropologist replies.

“Come on, Bren, you know what I mean. The thing. You surround yourselves with a shield and everything else around you, people included, just bounces off. It’s a superhero-y thing.”

“I still don’t know what that means. And people can’t just bounce off.”

Deciding that her friend is being deliberately obtuse, as she usually does when uncomfortable, Angela lets go.

The large room becomes increasingly warm, glasses clinking and voices getting louder as the evening unfolds. Several trips to the generously stocked bar later, Angela casts a glance around the room, trying to pinpoint where the two partners might be while making a little bet with herself that they will be no more than ten inches from each other.

She promptly experiences her second awe-inspiring moment in less than a week.

Brennan is standing near the open French window, making a valiant but unconvincing effort to appear interested in a conversation with some benefactors of the Jeffersonian. Booth is ten or twelve feet further away, clearly trying to fend off unwanted attention from a tall, professional-looking woman.

The two turn their heads towards each other simultaneously and without hesitation, as if they can already sense where the other is. They hold each other’s gaze and smile, silent messages passing back and forth at the speed of light.

The sheer energy of the exchange is breathtaking, the charge almost visible in the thick air.

More than a little humbled, Angela turns her head away, the picture indelibly etched in her mind.

Then she grins broadly. She is so going to draw this.

Yeah, I know that ‘hummable’ is not a word, but please indulge me. In order to make up for this, I promise to use the word ‘prophylactic’ in one of the next chapters. Deal? Deal.

In the meantime, please tell me whether you liked this. The review button... – well, you know the drill.