A/N: So, I share have to share complete credit for this one with jenlovesbones. We wrote this together via email and yahoo messenger. It's been a long time since I laughed this hard and I can't thank her enough, for her friendship and for filling in the parts I had trouble with.
This is our gift to our Twitter pal and fellow fan-fic author jsq. Hopefully the words are small enough to accommodate your head injury. Jena says, "Please make sure you're sitting somewhere comfortable and well padded when you read this." My suggestion? Consult BonesSarah if you need safety tips. :o)
Disclaimer: Not mine...
Going On Strike
They sit in her bed naked and bathed in sweat. He looks at her as she leans against the headboard. "So, how long do you think it'll be before they let us do that on the show?" he asks her with a cocky grin. "I'm tired of the whole Barbie doll thing."
She rolls her eyes. "They made me give her my sunglasses, Booth," she grumbles. "My sunglasses. My spot at the diner. You. I'm wondering what else of mine they plan to give her..."
"I wouldn't mind if they gave her some of your clothes...or took them away from you at any rate," he says, flashing her his charm smile. He kisses her shoulder and nuzzles at her neck. "The only person I want to see naked is you."
Brennan nods in agreement. "She does spend an awful lot of time naked."
"Can the show really not afford to buy her a wardrobe?" he asks ruefully, scratching his head. "I mean I'm not a prude, but I'm starting to get uncomfortable..."
"It's not fair," she complains. "When I get your clothes off, I'm collecting evidence or in your dreams. She sees you naked practically every episode."
They sit quietly for a while. Each of them separately pondering potential solutions to their Hannah problem, while stealing glances at the other. When she licks her lips he considers reminding her he's got plenty of 'evidence' she's free to collect from him, but she jumps out of the bed.
"I know how to fix this!" she says as she throws off the covers and races to find her laptop, tugging on her robe.
He pulls on a kimono that lies on a nearby chair. As he joins her, he shakes his head. "Wearing this reminds me of the coma dream," he says.
"Pity they didn't go with that one," she says. "I'd have our baby by now." She rests a hand on her flat abdomen. "I'd love our child, Booth," she says longingly.
"I know, Bones," he says rubbing his hands over her arms.
"With you're jawline and my cheek bones, we'd have quite an attractive progeny," she brags.
He gets lost in the thought of Brennan's body full and heavy with his child. He's drawn back to reality by the persistent tapping on the keyboard. "What are you doing?" he asks, peering over her shoulder.
"I'm tinkering with an idea." She tells him as her fingers fly furiously over the keys.
He reads over her shoulder. "Now that could work..." he says. "It's kinda like that movie Being John Malkovich."
Brennan's brow furrows. "I don't know what that means..."
He kisses her. "Baby, you're brilliant!"
"Don't call me baby!" she chastises. "I still don't know what you mean."
"What you've laid out?" he says, waiting for her to nod. "You're proposing to put yourself into Hannah's body." He pulls her up into his arms. His hands gliding over the silky fabric of her robe. He kisses her soundly. "If it's you I'm in bed with, you could plug yourself into Caroline Julian for all I care!"
"So, it's been done before?" she pouts. "I hate being unoriginal."
"But it's never been done by Temperance Brennan or our writers," he says. "And it's never stopped them before. I mean the brain tumor thing? Grey's Anatomy and House did it the same season the writers gave me mine. And House is on our network!"
"You know I don't watch television, Booth," she scoffs.
"We really need to get you a TV, Bones..." he rubs his hand over his jaw. "You know, come to think of it, I wonder if that's why I'm seeing so little of Parker. Rebecca's playing doctor over on ABC. I hear she's a lesbian now. Think that'd be enough to get me custody? Maybe at least formalize visitation rights?"
Brennan tilts her head to the side in contemplation. "You should call Caroline on Monday."
"You know, I think I'll do that. She's always fun to talk to." He leans down and kisses her again.
She chews on her lower lip. "Maybe I should talk to her. You're sort of in the outhouse because of the whole what's her face thing."
"You're one for two on that, Bones," he says to her. "It's doghouse, not outhouse, but points for what's her face. I may start calling her that. WHF. I like it!
Brennan grins. "I do, too," her smile fades into a small smirk, "However, it's highly inappropriate."
"You're probably right," he says, his voice defeated.
"We could give her a nickname though," she says. "Something we could call her to her face. Kind of like how you call me Bones."
"But what should it be?" he asks.
"Fig Newton?" Brennan quips.
Booth shakes his head. "That's just low, Bones."
"Under a fig tree, Booth? Seriously? Do they not know you at all?" her rising anger causes her to tense.
"Oh, screw them," he says, sweeping her up into his arms and heading back to the bedroom. "Forget about the writers. Let's go on strike. We'll camp out here, order take-out. It'll be great."
She leans in and kisses him. "I concur," she says. "Vehemently!"