The Implications of Eating Cooked Fruit
Author's Notes: Well, I'm back in the Bones fan fiction world. Apparently, I can't resist. After some ranting and raving over the 100th episode and the finale, here's a bit of what I imagine may happen in Season 6 (minus any serious other relationships which will make me squirm and rage more.) It hasn't been edited, but I hope it's passable and to your liking! Reviews and constructive criticism are always received with wide open arms.
It's been well over a year. A year and eight months, to be exact, the majority of which was filled with sand and bullets and dust and blood – because no matter what the army said to him about just training, he wound up in combat. Nobody goes over into that type of warzone and gets away with just training. It was also a year filled with half-started e-mails, phone calls from a gushing Angela, a lonely Cam and Sweets, and only one hurried conversation between him and Bones because their schedules just didn't mesh.
After that year and eight months ago, they were back at the coffee stand. Both of them had been through things, both had had other relationships – however short lived – and it was, well, awkward.
But then a case happened, Sweets badgered them into a group "regrouping" therapy session that quickly turned into beers and pizza, Bones corrected him on a cliché while completely missing the point and – well, all was back to normal. For eight months.
Now Booth is starting to think he's going a little crazy. Because there have been dates with other people, but nothing serious, and the same for her and well – she's eating pie.
Maybe her experience in whatever Poo-Poo island that dig was in ("The discoveries we made completely revolutionized what we know of the human evolution, Booth!") made her more open to cooked fruit. Maybe all they ate there was cooked fruit and Bones had finally seen the light that cooked fruit was delicious and should be wrapped in pastry dough.
But there's that annoying side of him that sounds alarmingly like Sweets that is shooting off warning lights and whistles and a "Danger Will Robinson, danger!" and saying that his own attempts to get Bones to eat pie were all a part of his seduction technique. And Bones always resisted. But now…Now. Bones. Was. Eating. Pie.
She had sampled a piece of his blueberry pie the week before, and hadn't said a word while he stared at her, open mouthed. Bones had acted as if nothing milestone had happened, and continued going on about the merits of this new piece of technology Cam refused to get but that would make blah blah blah easier. He barely managed to get his jaw off the floor in time to change the subject. Maybe it was just a one time thing.
Two days later at the diner, she'd ordered it again. And then again. And now he was sitting at their normal table, watching her with the klaxons blaring and the strobe light in his head and thinking – this has to mean something. But they've avoided all serious talk about them since that one time six months ago when things got awkward and heart crushing fast.
So why the hell was Bones eating pie? Did it mean something? Was he over thinking it? Did it mean nothing and he was reading something into it because he wanted there to be something after all he'd said to himself about trying to move on?
…Maybe he should have Sweets run another psychological exam on him. Maybe Afghanistan did knock something loose. (There was that one spectacular fall and knock on the head, after all.)
He must make some sort of strangled noise, or do something, or maybe Bones has just become a psychic while she was in Malapoopy island (Okay, the Maluku Islands, Booth had its name and longitude and latitude memorized before she'd gotten on the plane and made sure he knew if there were any threats or weather warnings in the area the whole year he was away.) because she looks up, a fork full of heavenly strawberry pie and whipped cream half-way to her mouth, and meets his gaze.
His heart nearly falls out on the table when he sees the resolve – the answer – in her eyes, as she puts the fork fully into her mouth, chews, and swallows her bite. He knows what she's thinking. He never actually thought pie could seem that seductive, even with everything Sweets was touting (except for in American Pie, but he hasn't been that desperate.)
She's ready. She's ready, and she knows what this means and she's staring at him, waiting, and – is he ready?
Oh hell, he's been ready since the day he met her.
"Bones, I'm going to cook you dinner tonight."
Her eyes flash momentarily, a reminder that just because she's reached this decision doesn't mean she's going to take his commands with any less of a fight, before she smiles.
"I was wondering when you would notice the implications of my eating cooked fruit. I was staring to get concerned, because while cooked fruit mixed with pasty dough is not as unpleasant as I had originally imagined, it is still not my favorite flavor in the world." With that, she puts down her fork and pushes the rest of the pie – the good part, with the crust – towards him.
Bones giving him the pie she's been forcing herself to eat to send him a subtle message? And it's the strawberry pie? He grins, what Angela once dubbed his "charm grin" ("Seriously Booth, that thing could make panties drop for miles.") and takes a huge bite of what is now his pie.
This day is awesome.