A/N: My second foray in the fandom. The thought of Booth, Brennan, and a chocolate cake sparked off the writing of this fic.
DISCLAIMER: Bones is not mine. I once thought it was, until I realized that the shady-looking guy who sold me the rights for the show was actually a well-known con man. Tsk.
The moment he stepped off his car, Seeley Booth wasted no time. He literally burst through the front doors of the Jeffersonian, which blatantly caught the attention of everyone in the vicinity. Seemingly unaware of the countless pairs of eyes now watching him, he nodded towards the security guard standing by the entrance, just like he had always done.
Through the hallways and up the stairs he went, not stopping even for a second to catch his breath. At last, after what appeared like forever, he reached his destination: the pantry.
Panting heavily, he took a glance at his wristwatch; it read 3:12 PM. Talk about false alarm. Thank God I made it- and with time to spare too, he thought, heaving a sigh of relief before opening the door. This sense of satisfaction didn't last long, however, after his eyes met a rather appalling sight.
Booth stared in horror at the figure who was happily feasting inside. He took a few moments to let the currently unfolding scene to sink in: the empty box, the untied ribbon nested neatly beside it, the morsels of fare left behind. It didn't take very long before the person-in-question noted his presence.
"Booth! I didn't notice you there," Brennan greeted, taking in another mouthful of food afterwards. "Is there a new case?" she then queried, hearing no response from him for her previous statement.
Still in a daze, Booth shook his head at a snail's pace.
As she far too absorbed in the explosion of flavor in her mouth, she failed to notice her partner's unusually grim expression. She thought hard for a reason to his sudden visit, all the while continuing her rather distracting chewing. Finally, she thought she figured it out. "If it's about my report, I haven't finished it yet. It'll most likely be done by tomo-"
"Put the fork down," Booth bluntly interrupted, which caused Brennan's features to take on a puzzled look.
"Excuse me?" she asked, her brows furrowed in confusion.
"I said put the fork down," he repeated with an imposing tone.
Her expression remained unchanged. "Why? If I put it down, then I wouldn't be able to finish my cake," she reasoned, her hand still clutching tightly on the object.
That was the last straw. Booth placed a foot forward, his fists clenched and his body tensed. "Your cake?!" he roared, making Brennan drop the fork instantly. It landed with a clang beside the plate.
For a moment, neither said a word. The humming of the air conditioning unit overhead, along with the faint footsteps and muffled conversations outside the room, were the only forms of noise. The agent's form steadily relaxed as time went by.
"I made it for Parker," Booth finally began, his voice barely audible.
"Is it his birthday?"
"No, it's not."
"Then why did you make him one? You see, people tend to procure such products during occasions deemed as culturally important, with birthdays being a fine example."
"Why did I make him one? It's because Parker won first place at their science fair in school. As a member of the scientific community, wouldn't you agree that this is something to celebrate on?"
Brennan promptly nodded. "Of course it is. Definitely."
"I bought it here for safekeeping…but it looks like I made the wrong choice," Booth concluded with a sigh.
Unfortunately for him, his pasty-triggered ordeal was far from over, as Brennan had more completely unnecessary questions in mind. "You cook?"
"You can consume an entire piece of cake alone?" he quipped sardonically.
"Theoretically speaking, yes, I can. I almost did just now," she answered matter-of-factly, which further aggravated Booth. He was just not in the mood to tolerate Brennan's inability to understand sarcasm.
"What?" he fumed, as Brennan raised an eyebrow.
"You haven't answered my question yet," she said flatly.
"That you can cook."
"As I've said, I am a constant surprise." A barely discernable grin crossed his lips- he had answered her quite well. "And the appropriate term is bake, not cook," he corrected.
Brennan nodded in fascination at his words. "That's quite interesting. Alpha males don't usually enjoy doing refined activities such as food preparation- nor can they do it so superbly," she explained, with Booth faking his interest.
"Yeah, very interesting, right…wait, did you just compliment me?" His frown dissipated as realization began to dawn on him.
"Yes, I did. You cook, or rather, bake quite well. Each bite I took felt like a piece of heaven dancing around on my taste buds," Brennan confirmed, a euphoric smile drawn on her face as she remembered the savory taste that enveloped her senses back then.
"Odd comparison, but it's good to hear that. Thanks." Her statement instantly lifted his mood- it didn't last very long, though. "If only I can get Parker to say those words too. He'd been asking me all week to help him with his project, but I was too busy with work to do so. That's why I thought of making him one of his favorite desserts as a reward, thinking that it would compensate for that," he explained, heaving yet another sigh afterwards.
A tinge of guilt tugged at the anthropologist. "I'm sorry Booth. It was very selfish of me to claim as my own something I stumbled upon by chance. My hunger...I was so hungry earlier and it must've clouded my judgment and-"
"It's alright, Bones. I understand," he interjected, putting on a mask of acceptance. Brennan easily saw through this, however, as the forlorn look in his eyes betrayed him.
"No, it's not. It's obvious that you're disappointed," she quickly pointed out.
"I can't deny that- but it's not like we can do anything about it now," he admitted, his brown orbs fixed on the floor.
Brennan looked at the slice resting in front of her. "There's still three-fourths of the slice left."
"Nah, you can keep it. I'll just buy a new one at the bakeshop along the way. It may not be exactly the same, but I guess it'll do," Booth replied, not taking his eyes off below; at least, not until he heard some kind of banging noise from the table.
"What the hell are you doing Bones?" he asked, seeing that Brennan appeared to be carving off the edges of the cake with a kitchen knife.
"I'm altering the contour of the cake…or what's left of it anyway."
Booth sauntered forward, eager to take a closer look. He then studied the figure from various angles, in hope of deciphering what exactly it was. "Is that a fish?" he guessed.
"No, it's a light bulb," she corrected dejectedly, a little mortified of her lack of artistic skill.
"Because it symbolizes knowledge?"
"That, along with bright ideas and innovation."
Booth shrugged. "It still looks like a fish to me, but whatever you say."
He walked over to the refrigerator, scanning the contents for anything he could use as an impromptu ingredient. He spotted a bunch of bananas, from which he grabbed two, proceeded to take a cutting board from a cabinet, and walked back to the table.
"Would you happen to have some chocolate syrup here?" He then asked, busy as he chopped off the yellow fruit.
"No, but I think I have a chocolate bar left in my secret sash," she replied, her hand pointing to a partially raised tile on the floor.
"It's sta-never mind. I'm not going to bother." Brennan opened her mouth to speak, but Booth quickly cut her off. "Just go and get it."
His gaze followed her as she made her way across the room, lifted the aforementioned tile, and pulled out a plastic bag filled with an assortment of sweets. "Wow, clever," he remarked in amazement as she fished a bar out and hurriedly hid it back inside.
Now armed with a bar of chocolate, Booth was ready to get things started. They had a good twenty minutes to work with; and this was more than enough to finish up, he figured, if things went according to plan.
He asked Brennan to get him a wooden spoon and a saucepan with a little water, wherein he placed the now crushed pieces of chocolate inside and carried on towards the stove.
Brennan, meanwhile, followed his every move, studying him like some kind of a lab specimen.
"What are you doing?" she queried, watching Booth stir the liquid with the spoon.
"Improvising," came the wry response.
She nodded, and then continued on staring at the brownish concoction. "Can I try?"
Booth chuckled- it wasn't everyday that you see the anthropologist so genuinely interested in something so mundane. "Sure, Bones. Here you go."
He handed her the spoon, which she took rather excitedly, and began to stir the mixture a little too briskly.
"No, no, not like that! You'll spill it!" Booth warned.
"Do it like this…" Brennan's frame tensed as Booth got too close for comfort. He stood directly behind her as he held her hand to guide her. She could feel the warmth of his breath, the scent of his cologne, the texture of his polo.
Damn it, Bones, I mean Temperance. Stay rational. Don't allow his proximity to cloud your logic. He's only showing you the proper method of mixing. He's not going to drag you to the counter and have wild sex with you at any moment. This is not one of your fantasies turned reality, unfortunately, she assured herself.
She looked over her shoulder to face him- and it turned out to be a huge mistake. A shiver ran down her spine as she realized how close their proximity actually was. His slightly parted lips, which was mere inch or so apart from hers, proved awfully tempting to her.
She hurriedly turned her head back around, before his presence overcame her completely. To keep her mind away from such thoughts, she decided to keep herself busy by counting the bubbles that surfaced from the mixture as it gradually boiled.
After what seemed to her like an eternity (36 bubbles, to be specific), Booth finally let go off her hand. "Yeah, you got it. Just keep on mixing it until it melts completely," he told her, oblivious of how much his gesture had shaken her- in a good way, of course.
A few minutes later, the makeshift syrup was ready. Brennan readied the bananas sliced earlier as Booth came over the table with the saucepan in hand. "And were going to pour this down over here….and voila!"
The two gazed with triumph at their work of art: a light bulb-shaped cake surrounded by banana slices drizzled with chocolate syrup.
"Bon travail, Chef Bones," Booth congratulated her.
Brennan was clearly astounded by his wordplay. "I didn't know you could speak French."
"Two words- constant surprise."
She answered him back with laughter. Booth joined her instantly, secretly enjoying hearing the rather deep guffaw that was uniquely hers.
He then proceeded to place their mini-cake back inside the box, tying the red strip around it in a simple bow. He took the package in one hand as he prepared to leave. "Well, I guess I better get going. Au revoir!"
Booth had only taken a few steps away when another surge of guilt hit her. She felt as though her previous apology was far from enough.
He looked over his shoulder. "Yeah?"
"Sorry again for all the trouble I caused you."
"No worries. This mini-cake of yours is definitely better than my original one," Booth assured her with a smile. "To be honest, it's me who should apologize…getting all worked up over a damn cake, what was I thinking?" he added, realizing how silly he acted back then.
A somber expression surfaced on Brennan's features. "You were thinking about your son's happiness, Booth," she answered in a no-nonsense manner.
Sure, she had taken his question yet again in a literal way; but this time around, he was wrong and she was right on the mark.
"That's…true. Thanks Bones."
His declaration of gratitude puzzled Brennan greatly, evident in her furrowing brows. She asked him what he meant, just as she always did in times like these; and Booth had no second-thoughts on how he intended to make her understand him.
He had no idea what came over him, but before he knew it, he found that his lips had met hers in an unmistakable kiss. What he originally planned as short and simple lasted for quite some time. Brennan made no effort to resist; in fact, she appeared to be enjoying every second of it.
The distinct taste of chocolate was all that remained of their encounter when they decided that it was time to pull back for air. The two gazed contentedly at each other before Booth flashed her one of his charm smiles, which was promptly returned, and scurried out of the room.
"My pleasure," Brennan finished after a few moments, though he was already out of earshot.
She then sauntered over to the windowsill, where she noted with amusement that Booth had already exited the building in such a short amount of time. He was making his way through the parking lot when a thought crossed her mind.
"Tell Parker I said congrats!" she called out to him as he opened his car door.
"Got it!" he yelled back with a matching thumbs-up sign.
Brennan watched him pensively as he boarded his car and sped off. As he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight, a realization dawned on her- she has found yet another reason to love her favorite brown-hued treat, chocolate.
I needed a breather before continuing on with Thank God it's Friday- and this rather random plot fitted the role perfectly. The update might take a while, though, thanks to this darn typhoon that bought massive flooding...any Pinoys who can relate?
Anyways, I'd love to hear what you think. Loved it? Hated it? Click on the little box with the green font below. There, there, now click!
I got the 'secret sash' part from this particular fic I've read before, btw. Heads up to whoever wrote it!
THANKS FOR READING! :)