Everybody into the pool

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Everybody into the pool, by BLC

"Now look, if you don't tell me who he is I am just going to have to put you under surveillance."

"It's none of your business, Booth!"

Their yelling preceded them into the lab. She was leading by at least three feet, looking furious. He was half running to keep up with her, looking stubborn and pissed. The air was literally crackling around them, and I was certain anyone who stepped into their orbit would have gotten electrocuted.

"Bones, I'm just trying to protect you. I mean, you don't have the best taste in men…"

"The chief of orthopedic surgery at Walter Reed is NOT a psychopath, and there's NO need to check him out! He is a highly-regarded member of the community!"

"Really, Bones? Because I remember a certain Deputy Director of the FBI…."

She wheeled to face him. "Ok, first, I was never dating Kirby, so that argument is totally useless, and second, I can take care of myself!"

He was in her face as he yelled, "I took a bullet for you! I think I am qualified to say when you do and don't need protection!"

"And I've killed two men for you, and wounded at least a half a dozen others. Why does that not count?" Her chest was heaving, and if she wasn't my boss, and if I wasn't engaged to her best friend, I'd think she was totally hot—eyes flashing, chest heaving, cheeks flushing.

"That is so hot," I heard behind me. Angela had crept up on me as I, like everyone else in the lab, stopped their work to watch the rip-roaring fight in front of us. "That's what I was thinking," I murmured. I repeated my prior observation from an earlier fight—"there's enough sexual tension there to power a small city." Sweets, who had been waiting for the partners in Dr. B.'s office, came out to stand behind us. "Dude, this is awesome," he murmured.

"Bones, look it counts, that's not what I meant, but, I mean, you haven't been exactly lucky with the fellas…"

"Booth, why do you insist on reminding me that my love life is either nonexistent or an absolute failure? Does it amuse you that I might be lonely?" Her voice dropped, suddenly, to an almost whisper. "Because I am, you know."

Booth had the grace to turn red and look ashamed. Angela had inhaled when Dr. B. told the G Man she was lonely. "C'mon Bones, you've got me, you're not lonely."

"What, what do I have? I have a partner who scares off anyone I ever think of dating, who never lets me drive, who won't let me have a gun, and who tells me I can't make my own mistakes! You put that damned line there Booth, you made it clear you don't want me, now back off so I can try to do my best for myself on my side of your precious professional line." Dr. B.'s voice had risen again, but she was really upset—her voice had cracked on the word "line."

"What line?" whispered Angela. "No idea, babe," I said, keeping my voice low so they wouldn't notice that everything else had stopped around them. "I'll tell you later," said Sweets. Angela shushed him, turning us back to the next round starting up in front of us.

"What do you mean I don't want you? You crazy woman! Why the hell did you think I put it there in the first place? Because I had platonic feelings for you? For Christ's sake, Bones, I've wanted to throw you over the exam table, the desk, my backseat, Sweets' sofa, God Help Me, and any marginally horizontal or vertical surface and make love to you until you shut the hell up with all your squint babble since the first day I met you!"

It was like watching a car accident; I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't look away.

"Well, that's all fine and dandy, because I have wanted to shove you into every storage closet, elevator, empty office, and dark alley and show you that your alpha male tendencies are no match for my alpha female tendencies since the day I met you!"

They both looked at each other, chests heaving, nose to nose. It was dead quiet. You could've heard an electron orbit a nucleus.

"Really?" he asked, as she asked "Really?" at the same time.

I now know how the universe must have felt right before the Big Bang. There was a Pause, a building up of something explosive, and then, Bang.

It happened so fast that later, no one could say who started it. Some people think they both closed the distance. Some are sure he was a millisecond ahead of her. In any event, they were wrapped around each other like vines in an instant, kissing.

"Ange, don't get me wrong, I love you, but…" I looked over at her. "Yeah. That is the greatest kiss of all time." She sighed, smiling. Sweets just looked confused. "My sofa?"

The next thing we knew, Booth had swept Brennan up in his arms, and so help me, started sprinting out the door, the two of them barely coming up for air. He must have had radar, because I swear he wasn't watching out for any obstacles.

As the door slammed shut behind them, everyone blinked and shook themselves out of our communal daze. I looked down at my computer, pulled up a document, and cleared my throat. There was an air of expectation, hardly diminished since the two of them had left the room. "And the winner, of the Booth-Brennan First Kiss Pool, with a guess of in the lab, within three months of Booth's getting shot, is . . ."

There was a massive inhalation.

"Larry the night watchman!"

There was a whoop from the crowd near the columns, and Larry strode forward, pumping his arms in the air. "I won! I won!"

He was immediately surrounded by well-wishers, wanting to know how he'd figured it out. I overheard him saying something about security cameras, and keeping track of how many late night and early morning visits there'd been, and something else I didn't catch, because I was preoccupied with what came next.

"OK, people, that's enough. Let Larry collect his winnings, while the rest of you sorry losers get in line. I am happy to announce the creation of a new pool—How Soon Until He Argues Her Into Marrying Him? There will also be separate pools for where the proposal will take place, when they will move in together, and how soon she gets him to let her drive. Entry fee is 50.00 a pop, ladies and gentlemen, step right up."

Angela got out the pool jar, paid out Larry the 10,000.00 in bets we'd collected, and queued up the new pool spreadsheets. Nothing was ever going to be as fun as this first pool, but the entire staff of the Jeffersonian was game for another round.

"Hey, somebody want to call over to Booth's office and let them know this pool is closed, and we're taking entries for the new ones?"

"I'll call Cullen," offered Cam. "He's going to be pissed that he missed that, even if he is out 50.00."