Okay so this is a really short one that has been bugging me since I watched Mayhem, I know that the whole 'which one knows' is being done everywhere but this one is a bit different, you'll see what I mean.
Its a little lighter than whats being done, which I needed because I am working on a pretty dark one on Booth for Mayhem, which you guys will get sooon.
Anyway, enough chatter, I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: Bones is not mine!
That English bastard, that was totally not cool. Sweets stood in awe for a moment as he finally saw what Gordon Wyatt had seen. He had really thrown Sweets, during their meeting to discuss his book. Sweets had been so upset about the review he hadn't really connected his words until right now.
While his pain at being reminded of his own scars was still coursing through him, Sweets couldn't help but focus on what was happening before him.
Wyatt had said that one of partners was struggling with their feelings everyday; acutely aware of how they felt. Sweets almost laughed aloud as he finally made the connection.
His first mistake was made when Dr. Brennan had wasted no time getting to the point, her blunt approach made the pain of the situation lessen- no better feeling than having the Band-Aid ripped off in one foul swoop .
Sweets had watched the horror on bloom on Booths face as he watched his partner reveal her scars. The way he was immediately prepared to care for her, aware of her needs. They way he gave in to her request, unable to deny her anything.
Sweets absorbed Booths confession, convinced he had seen what Gordon spoken about. It was Booth.
Sweets had been thrown by what followed though. He'd turned to Dr. Brennan as she cleaned away her tears, folding the handkerchief tenderly, and suddenly hadn't been so sure. She'd stood there tall, and proud, by no means diminished by her confession, but strengthened by the knowledge that she had done the right thing, regardless how painful.
She'd absorbed the shock of Booth's confession better than he had hers, but it had affected her. She accepted the scars. She had known they were there and knew that he needed her acceptance. The way Booth knew she needed his comfort.
Brennan had tucked the handkerchief back in his pocket, still facing him, but not meeting his eyes. Her hand had lingered, pressed over his heart, and Sweets had changed his mind. It was Dr. Brennan.
But then Booth's hand snaked up, just a moment after hers had fluttered away, trying to make the most of the contact, to reassure himself that he was real, that she was real too. He patted the handkerchief making sure it was there, holding her tears, holding her pain, making sure they wouldn't escape, making sure that she would never feel that particular pain again. She assured him that she truly was fine, giving him the knowledge he needed more than pity; she would be all right, he would help her be alright.
They shared a last look before turning back to him. Sweets couldn't contain his laughter, small though it was in the aftermath of such an outpour of emotion.
That English bastard had gotten him. Gordon had given Sweets all the answers. He had set him up, probably knowing that Sweets would overanalyze, and focus on pin pointing which partner knew.
Sweets shook his head at his own foolishness. He saw it now. Gordon had given him the answer before he had asked about the partner's sexual attraction and emotional connection.
They knew. It was both of them.
Wyatt had opposed to one other major point in his book. "Brennan and Booth weren't in anyway opposites." Those were his exact words; Sweets couldn't see why it had taken him so long to make a connection. One didn't know any better than the other. One was no more aware than the other. Superficially, they were opposites as Wyatt had said, but in all else they were the same.
They had the same awareness. They both dealt with the knowledge every day. They had the same struggles.
They were partners in this too.
Damned English bastard, he really was good.