A/N: Not my best written work, but it's just a bit of harmless fun :D
Behind Closed Doors
"So, I suck." Angela dropped her sketchpad onto the instruments tray beside her best friend and winced at the rattling noise it made.
Brennan hardly spared a glance away from the fibula she had been slaving over for the past hour, turning it every which way and inspecting the curve of the bone. Finally, she set it down and turned to the paper her best friend had so unceremonioiusly deposited in her work area. "It looks accurate, Ange. The tissue markers match up, as does the approximate age. Have you ran it through missing persons?" She bent over to observe the tibia at eye level. It didn't quite fit with the patella. There had to be something missing.
"Yea, I got a hit. Dave Harper. But didn't you hear me? I suck!"
"But... you have a match. That would indicate that your facial reconstruction was-"
"At life, Brennan! I suck at life!"
"Actually, I think you live your life quite well." She looked up the skeleton lying on her table. "Where's my hyoid?"
"In your neck, sweetie." Sometimes Angela couldn't quite help herself when her best friend made it so easy.
"Mr. Harper's hyoid. Cam?" She flagged down their boss as she walked by.
"Yes, Dr. Brennan?"
"The missing hyoid. It was there when Mr. Fisher cleaned the bones and now it's gone."
"Hodgins borrowed it. He found traces of aluminum so he's... doing whatever it is that he does." Dr. Saroyan sighed with relief when her forensic anthropologist seemed to accept that as a valid answer. "And how are you, Angela?"
"I suck," she pouted again. Everything rushed back to her and she buried her face in her hands with a sort of whinnying voice, all the while shaking her head at herself.
"Do you need a medical doctor, Ange?"
Cam took a look between the two and made a decision. It would have been inhumane to leave Angela, her co-worker and friend, alone with Dr. Brennan while she was obviously having a personal crisis. She closed the door to the bone room discreetly and stepped forward. "What's going on, Angela?"
It was only at this point that they seemed to notice a certain Dr. Clark Edison standing in the corner, clearing his throat in discomfort. "Well, I'm not needed here anymore."
"No, Dr. Edison. You still have to properly clean the sternum. We still haven't found cause of death."
"Yea, Clark. Be a good little boy and work on your sternum. Anyway," she changed the subject before the intern could voice his indignance and rested her arm dramatically on the lit platform. "I am a horrible person."
"I'm going to guess this has to do with Hodgins." Cam immediately corrected herself. "I mean, I'm going to use the knowledge I have to make a reasonable and informed stipulation- oh, just spill, Angela."
"He was so good about the whole Wendell thing, you know?"
"You were saying about Hodgins?" Cam wondered how they ever got anything done around here.
"That new lab tech is drooling all over him and he looks like he enjoys dangling treats in front of the salivating puppy in heat. I know, I know it's stupid and I have no right to be jealous, but it's just... it's Hodgins, you know?"
"Well, we all knew you were kidding yourself when you were pretending to be over him."
"I didn't." Good old Brennan. Angela could always count on her to make herself feel less... blind about certain things.
"I know I should pretend that I'm happy for them, but damn I would have to be lying through my teeth."
Cam smiled at her - the big-sister-motherly smile she always used her on her fellow squints. "Ange, the man still has your face tattooed on his arm. I think he wouldn't exactly complain if you told him that you want to get back together with him."
"But what if he wants more than I can give him?"
"He'll love you no matter what. Like you said, it's Hodgins."
"What about me?" The door swung open and the women all took a deep breath. How long had he been standing there? It was always trouble when he had that paranoid look on his face. "Why's the door closed?"
Cam cleared her throat, trying to assert authority in order to disguise their very unprofessional conversation. "When a door is closed, Dr. Hodgins, it usually means that the occupants inside the room would like some privacy."
He shrugged and padded over to the body anyway. Carefully, he placed the hyoid back on the table. "The aluminum found on the bone is commonly used in disposable serving trays, available at any local supermarket."
"Wait, the missing persons report said that our victim's wife works at a catering service." Angela flipped through the pages of her file, keeping her eyes strictly off of her ex-fiance. "Yup. Anne Harper, head chef of Caveras Catering."
"You ID'ed the victim already? Good job, Angela!"
Her stomach did flips every time he said or did something nice for her. God, she sucked.
"All righty, then. I'll tell Booth." Cam turned on her heel.
Seeing the only other "normal" person flee the room, Angela followed suit, all the while murmuring "awkward, awkward, very awkward" under her breath.
"Did I interrupt something?" Hodgins was suspicious. It was never good when the women got together behind closed doors and started whispering. "Hey, man, did you hear anything?"
Clark kept his head down. "Too much. I heard way too much."