Because Of Wednesday
Pairing: Brennan/Booth, hint of Angela/Jack
Summary: Angela decides enough is enough between Booth and Brennan and sets out on a mission.
Notes: This fic takes place after the episode 'The Man In The Morgue' and I hope to god that it's accurate. Un-betaed and all that. Writing this fic took two days, which is bloody brilliant considering my other fics have been sitting on my harddrive for months. It also opened my eyes to a personal relevation... I'm too visual to write fic. I want to hijack the cast and crew of Bones and freaking have them act out my fic, and then go all crazy with the editing and lighting and background score and everything. The urge to direct my vision was... unbelievable. Seriously, I can see this entire thing unfold inside my brain.
She knew he would be there, sitting at the bar at Wong Foo. Call it women's intuition. He was swallowing mouthfuls of a steak sandwich with matching swigs of a honey coloured beer, the muted lighting throwing his face into relief. He was alone, no surprise, which was good. For a very brief moment she wondered if this was a good idea, but the feeling passed quickly. She had no qualms about prying into his life; she barely ever had second thoughts about getting involved in other people's affairs. It was one of her cheap thrills, something to keep life exciting during downtime. Her routine life at the Jeffersonian had to be supplemented somehow.
She casually walked in and sidled up to Booth, making herself comfortable on the stool next to him. He noticed her immediately and didn't even give her the chance to speak.
"Angela, what are you doing here?" He looked around. "Don't tell me the other squints are here too."
"Relax, it's just me. And don't call me a squint." She countered, her cheerfulness somewhat dampened by his comment.
He recovered enough from his initial annoyance to give her an amused grin. "Oh, you're a squint alright. You just know how to hide your squintness well."
"Squintness? Is that even a word?" A hint of irritation seeped through her voice. The man could be such a pain sometimes. Thank god he was easy on the eyes. "Never mind, I don't want to debate with you."
She paused as Sid came around and placed an antique looking cup and saucer set, as well as a small teapot, in front of her. There was a small pouch filled with an unrecognizable mixture of herbs and powder sitting in the cup, but Angela knew better than the question Sid's choices. She poured the hot water out of the teapot and stirred. Sid nodded approvingly and walked off.
Booth, who had been watching her reaction with mild interest, put down his sandwich disbelievingly. "Wait, you're not actually planning on sitting here, are you? Don't you remember a little deal we had?" He motioned to the empty tables behind him. "You guys eat back there, this is my spot."
Angela sipped her tea slowly. "I've been eating here since before you introduced it to the rest of the gang. And besides, Brennan sits with you all the time." She paused meaningfully, mostly for emphasis, but also to savour her drink. Now that was some damn fine tea.
"Yeah, well, she's a special case."
She quirked an eyebrow upwards. "Oh, really? And why is that?"
"Because she's annoyingly persistent and stubborn." He replied, taking a forceful bite out of his sandwich. "It makes my life a whole lot easier just to let it go. She'd make me miserable if she didn't get what she wanted."
Too bad she has such a hard time admitting what exactly it is that she wants, Angela thought. She leaned towards Booth with a knowing grin. "So, she knows how to push your buttons. Interesting..."
"Hey, none of your funny ideas." Booth shook his finger at Angela. She smiled sweetly and took a moment to appreciate Booth's utter cuteness. Strong jaw, nice frame, great eyes. It was a pity he wasn't interested in her at all.
"Booth, honey, please. You fly down to New Orleans at a moment's notice, jeopardizing your career with a suspension, all for a woman you work with? Not to mention the fact that you escaped from a hospital with multiple fractures when you thought she was in danger. If that isn't affection then I don't know what is."
Booth's eyes narrowed. "How do you know about the suspension? Wait, did you call me 'honey'?"
She pressed onwards. "Dr. Goodman had a meeting with the Deputy Director this morning, explaining that you wouldn't be working with Brennan for a while. I overheard." Angela watched as Booth rubbed his forehead with frustration. "Don't worry, I didn't tell her. She'd only blame herself."
"Thanks." He said with sincerity. "Okay, so maybe I'm a little protective of her. But she's my partner and I care whether she's drugged and bleeding in some god forsaken hotel bathroom floor."
"Ignoring the fact that there's no evidence that Brennan was drugged, the point is that you protect her, you admire her, you respect her, and you clearly have a thing for her. Ask her out."
Booth laughed dismissively, popping the remainder of his sandwich into his mouth. "I am not asking Bones out."
Time to step into high gear. "Why not? She likes you."
His reaction was immediate and hilarious. He turned slowly to look at her face on, highly suspicious and (she thought) a little terrified. Angela suspected that if she pushed too hard, Booth would go all FBI-interrogation-mode on her and figure out what she was really up to.
"What? She said that?" He asked, with of his all attention focused on her. He grabbed at his drink and began to drain the last of it.
"Not in so many words. But you have no idea how many times she thinks about sex when your name comes up."
Booth choked on his beer. She ignored his coughing and continued. "I've known Brennan for much longer than you have. Trust me on this one. Even though she tries to hide from people, I know who she is."
"Ange, you're not psychic." Booth said dubiously, having recovered his voice.
"What can I say, I pick up these things. All those subtle signals you and Brennan unconsciously send each other-"
"-We do not send signals."
"Trust me, you're both sending signals. They're so obvious to someone like me." Angela said smugly, sipping her tea.
"Someone like you? And that would be, what? A body language expert?"
"What can I say? I'm a regular Dr. Hitch."
Booth stared at her blankly.
"You know? The movie with Will Smith training guys to-"
"-I know the movie, Angela. I'm just..." Booth sounded sheepish. "My brain just hit a brick wall at a squint referencing pop culture."
"I told you, I'm not a squint. And you know what they say; I live the big life..." It sounded a lot more significant than she wanted, and she could hear Jack's voice in the back of her head, that look in his eyes. She still couldn't decide whether he had been sincere about what he said or if it was just Jack randomly hitting on her because the mood had struck him. All she knew is that she was thinking about him. A lot.
Thankfully, Booth didn't notice her distraction. He shook his head. "I've been spending way too much time around Bones."
Angela turned her attention back to Booth. "That is definitely not a bad thing. Tell you what, when you get back to work after your suspension, ask her out for dinner. Tell her she deserves it after all the hard work she does, and because you respect and admire her work. She'll like that."
"I know how to treat women, you know. And besides, I'm not taking her out on a date." He seemed miffed by her unwarranted advice.
Oops, I think I bruised the great male ego. Angela sighed, full of resignation. "Fine, no date. But at least give her a call and tell her about the suspension. The Deputy Director told Dr. Goodman that he'd leave that to you."
Booth finally nodded in agreement. "Okay. That I can do."
This is going even better than I planned. Angela looked at him with an expression of expectancy.
"What, right now?" Booth said incredulously.
Angela nodded. "She's leaving for Washington State tomorrow with Zach, something about a historic settlement's graveyard. Just humour me, will you?"
Booth gave her that suspicious look again and pulled out his cell phone. She had to admit, the man was good at spotting deception. He got up from his stool in search of a spot with better reception and while he was dialing and waiting, Angela went through her purse, looking for cash to pay for the tea.
"Hi, Bones? It's Booth. Listen, I wanted to tell you that... oh..." He turned to Angela and stared daggers at her. She gave him her brightest, most innocent smile in return. "Dr. Goodman already told you about the suspension. What a surprise."
Angela bet that Tempe would completely miss the sarcasm in his voice. That's just the kind of woman her friend was: literal, logical and blunt. But she had a heart of gold hidden under those layers. She was stubborn as hell and tougher than bolts, and it would take someone exactly the same to coax her out of that safe bubble she had created for herself.
"Well, if you already know then I'll... what it is? ...Okay, I'm listening..." He was silent for a long time and Angela put her money on the bar, gathering her stuff and sensing the opportunity to leave unnoticed.
She remembered what Tempe had told her last night at the office, about what happened in New Orleans. "He said I should be nicer to him. He's right." She remembered the story about the earrings and what they meant. She remembered Tempe telling her Booth's reaction to the murder charge, how he refused to believe she was a murderer. She remembered the soft look in Tempe's eyes when she mentioned that day in the café, where Booth told her why he was nice to her. And she remembered convincing Tempe that she would be an idiot to pass this opportunity by.
Now, Angela could barely hear Booth's voice from across the restaurant. His voice was low and soothing, filling with strange warmth she had never heard from him before. It gave her a joyful feeling in her heart to hear him speak like that. With a self-satisfied smile, Angela turned and left. Mission accomplished. Tempe deserves this. And now she owes me too.
Booth's voice was quiet, striving to keep the conversation as private as possible. "Bones, I... yes. Of course, you know that... I care about you too..." He glanced behind him, embarrassed that Angela had heard that (she was a bit of a gossip, after all), but she was already gone, walking through the streets Washington.
If there was one thing Angela could depend on, it was the fact that Temperance was stubborn once she decided on something. Including the decision to ask Booth out for dinner. Yep, stubborn and persistent. Just like Booth pointed out. She paused at the next intersection, wondering where to go next. The decision was easy. There was a certain etymologist currently working extra hours at the Jeffersonian, and she figured it would be worth her while to take her own advice and make the next move.