Brennan had decided that there was no use fighting Angela anymore. For several weekends in a row she'd told her that she really had to get caught up on Limbo cases or there'd be hell to pay. But, Angela was starting to get miffed at being pushed off so often, even Brennan could see that. So, she called Ange.
"Sweetie, if you're going to ask me to come in and look at some rotting corpse, can it please wait until morning? "
"No, I was calling to ask what you were doing tonight."
"OH!" Brennan could hear the surprise in her voice. "Well, why didn't you say that first, Bren?"
"Well you answered the phone telling me you didn't want to work tonight, so I really didn't have a chance." Angela totally ignored her.
"You want to come clubbing with us tonight? There's this new club that just opened, and I guess it's basically amazing. How about you put on something nice, something you can dance in, and I'll pick you up in about 20 minutes?"
"Umm, sure Ange. I'll try and be ready." She heard a click through the speaker and hung up the phone. She sighed, trying to figure out exactly what she wanted to wear. She was still pawing through her closet when she heard a knock on her door.
"Ange, I can't find anything to wear. You're usually the one that picks this kind of stuff out for me."
"I know sweetie." She breezed through the apartment to Brennan's room. Brennan sat the on the bed for 15 watching Ange dig through every article of clothing that she owned. She'd pull something out, contemplate for a second, raise an eyebrow, than throw it behind her shaking her head muttering something about spinsters. She could tell that tomorrow morning she was going to be folding and hanging for a while. Angela finally settled on a mid-thigh length skirt with a nice, lacy black camisole.
"Aren't I going to be cold?" She questioned. But Angela answered her by just holding up a thin, light blue sweater that brought out her eyes.
"See, the trick is to wear something that you can stuff in your purse. You're going to be hot on the dance floor. Now, for shoes." She grabbed up a pair of black heels. "These are hot! Where'd you get these?"
"Umm, I wore those out in Vegas when I adopted the Roxy persona. This is the dress that Booth picked out to go with them."
"Holy shit, Booth picked this dress out for you? Woah."
"What's wrong with it?" Brennan liked the dress. She also liked the memories that went along with it. Booth smacking her on the ass, or the way he wrapped his arm around her. The best memory though, was the way his mouth dropped when she walked out of the bathroom. She really enjoyed that she'd made him speechless. His wit was apparently too slow to come up with something to stop him from looking like a fish out of water.
"Sweetie, there's absolutely nothing wrong with the dress. This is probably the hottest thing I've ever pulled out of your closet! Was this what he was talking about when he said 'that's hot'?" She looked at Brennan with probing eyes, watching for any signs that she might avoid the question.
"OH, yeah," she answered shyly, dropping her head to look at the carpet. "That was what he was talking about. I couldn't reach all the way around to the zipper, so he had to zip it up for me."
"Wow. I would've paid money to see that." She watched Angela put the dress back into the closet, tucking it right at the edge. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her.
"Angela, when we were flying to China, remember when we found that women in the oven?" Angela just nodded her head and kept shuffling through Brennan's shoes. "Well, I need a magnifying glass but there wasn't one on board. So, Booth found these horn-rimmed glasses that were pretty thick, and they did the job well, too. I think the woman's eyesight must've been almost legally considered blind…" she trailed off when Ange gave her one of those 'where the hell is this story going' looks.
"Anyway, Booth walked into the little kitchen area and found me with the glasses on. And, he said something that I didn't understand. And, you being who you are, I figured you could tell me what it might've meant."
"He said, 'Now, what I want you to do is take off your glasses, shake out your hair and say Mr. Booth, do you know the penalty for an overdue book?'" She looked at Ange and found her mouth hanging open.
"What?!" She started to worry now because several seconds had passed by, and Ange's mouth was still hanging wide. Maybe she shouldn't have told Angela.
"Um, sweetie, that was basically him propositioning you."
"Propositioning me for wha…" Then her eyes widened as understanding flowed through her mind.
"Yeah… I told you he liked you." She smiled her 'I told you so' smile, and handed Brennan black heels.
"What do I do Ange? Now I'm going to be all awkward knowing that he said that to me. I mean yes, ours is a friendship laden with sexual tension. I'd have to be an imbecile not to notice it. But, I mean, there's a line. A line he drew I might add!" She threw her hands up in exacerbation.
"Well, you can just act like I didn't explain it to you. You are very good at compartmentalizing. So, explain to me why it's going to be awkward?"
"It's Booth!" She said, thinking that explained everything.
"Yes, it is. If you can compartmentalize about everything else, why can't you about this?"
"I…" She paused. Why couldn't she? Why was it different than any other man she'd known. It's Booth, she thought. He isn't like other men.
"So, do you think that he really, you know, likes me like that?" She wrinkled her forehead at how imprecise that sentence sounded. But, if she said the L word out loud, then it'd be real. And, if it was real, she didn't know what she was going to do. She just couldn't wrap her head around it.
"I think he more than just likes you, Bren." She looked at Ange, panic evident in her eyes. She started to think about all of the times when Booth had leaned across the table at the diner, invading her personal space. She remembered how he reacted whenever he'd seen one of her boyfriends. She remembered how he told her that 'everything happens eventually'. She remembered when he'd told her about breaking the laws of physics. She remembered how he told her that there was someone for everyone.
"Oh my god."
Angela had watched the myriad of emotions flow across Brennan's face. Confusion seemed to be dominant. But after a few minutes, realization dawned on her face.
"Oh my god."
"I see you've finally figured it out for yourself."
"Ange, what do I do? I can't mess this up."
"Well, before you can mess it up, you have to figure out what it is." Angela watched as she knit her eyebrows together, trying to figure out exactly how she felt. Angela had a better idea.
"Alright. Well, how about we go out, get relatively hammered, and you can soul search then."
"But, then I'll be drunk. How will I arrive at any logical and well reasoned conclusions if I'm barely coherent?"
"Sweetie, have you ever heard the saying 'A drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts.'?"
"It means that being drunk loosens the tongue." She caught the beginnings of 'I don't know what that means' forming on her lips. "It means alcohol lets you say stuff and feel stuff that you wouldn't normally let bubble to the surface. It makes you drop your defenses. Now, I'm not saying that this should be something you do all the time. But, I think that it'll help you at least right now."
"Okay. Let's go."
She tried to enjoy the club. But, it was hard with everything going on in her mind. She couldn't quite settle it down. Besides, even though she'd called Angela to hang out, she forgot that she'd be a third wheel. Her and Roxie were dancing out on the floor, drawing more than one jealous man's eye.
She hadn't really planned on getting drunk. She'd listened to Angela's reasoning and agreed to placate her. When she arrived, however, she felt the need to get a little tipsy, hoping that it would help quiet the thoughts rampaging through her head. If Booth were here, he'd see how her brow was constantly wrinkled, and try and make a joke to lighten the mood. He always did that, just notice when her thoughts were getting the best of her.
She sighed. She'd begun realize just how much Booth seemed to occupy her thoughts. More than once tonight she'd found herself comparing men in the club to him. Either they were shorter than him, or they didn't have his exemplary muscle definition, or they smelled wrong. She shook her head as she sucked down the last of her fifth beer, than sighed. She was starting to feel a little woozy, so she decided that maybe it was time to head home. Tomorrow was Saturday, that meant a whole day of solitude at the Jeffersonian. This idea both excited and dismayed her. She loved being able to get lost in her work for hours and get plenty of work done. She walked, or slightly stumbled to where Angela and Roxie were dancing.
"Ange, I'm going to head home. I've got a ton of stuff to do in the morning. Besides, I'm actually pretty tired."
"Okay sweetie. Do you want a ride?"
"Nope, I'm going to go out and grab a cab. Night Ange, night Roxie." She walked towards the door, pulling her sweater out of her purse. She had a feeling that once she stepped outside, she'd be cold. She stepped outside and started fighting with her sweater. It was being very frustrating. The sleeves seemed to be fighting back, twisting in when she wanted them to twist out. She almost groaned in annoyance as she donned it, only to find it inside out. She didn't have time to turn it right side out, because at that precise moment someone yanked her into the alley beside the club and smashed her face off the brick wall.