(no subject)
Title: There's No Crying in Forensic Anthropology
Fandom: Bones
Characters: Temperance Brennan, Seeley Booth
Prompt: 092. Christmas
Word Count: 501
Rating: PG
Summary: 'A white Christmas; every child’s dream, her usual nightmare, but this year someone took a little of the pain away.'
Author's Notes: My first fic for fanfic100. Implied Brennan/Booth. Spoilers for 'The Man in the Fallout Shelter', feedback is appreciated.
They are out of quarantine, finally. It is snowing outside, and as the flakes dust her jacket, she smiles. A white Christmas; every child’s dream, her usual nightmare, but this year someone took a little of the pain away.
Everybody was gone. She was alone, just like she loved to be. But this time of year, it killed her to be alone. She tried not to think about it, tried desperately to lose herself in her work like she usually did. She was actually enjoying the company, but when the story of her parents spread through the lab like wildfire, she sought refuge in her office. Angela, her wonderful best friend, had come to comfort her, but there was only false consolation in her words.
And then Booth came. Immediately, her shield went up. He didn’t need to see her crying into Angela’s shoulder. She straightened her shirt, wiped her eyes, and motioned for him to come in. Angela, beside her on the sofa, didn’t wait to open her mouth when she received a questioning glance from Booth. Apparently he, in his doped up state of mind, hadn’t heard the story.
“Her parents disappeared right before Christmas,” Angela said.
“Ang!” she strangled out.
“Run, Forrest, run!” Booth winked as Angela slid past him and out of the room, a quick sorry shouted over her shoulder.
Booth stepped further into the room, and as he did so, he didn’t fail to notice how Brennan’s shoulders slumped and her eyes grew wet with tears again.
“There’s no crying in forensic anthropology, Bones,” Booth joked, referring to the famous movie line.
“I don’t know what that means,” she said, voice low and guarded.
He crossed his arms and watched her nearly break down. If he wasn’t Special Agent Seeley Booth, he would sit beside her on the couch and hold her until she stopped crying. He very nearly went to her side, but before he could move more than a step, she looked up.
“Do you have anything for me?” Brennan asked, referring to the case, her emotions now under control.
Booth hesitated for a moment, brown eyes locked with hers, before he sighed and tossed a manila folder onto her lap.
“We identified some of the stuff in the suitcase, nothing important,” he said.
She flipped open the file and didn’t reply, a sign that Booth recognized. He turned towards the door to leave.
“A League of Their Own,” he said cryptically.
Brennan, thoroughly confused, called after him.
“Booth, I don’t know wha-” she was cut off by Booth’s chuckle.
“It’s okay Bones, relax,” he said before disappearing through the glass door.
She stands in the snow, the movie tucked securely beneath her arm. She had found it on her desk, wrapped in simple paper, a couple hours after everybody left. Puzzled, she had unwrapped it to find a DVD (A League of Their Own) and a note in Booth’s handwriting; ‘My house tonight, seven o’clock, bring the movie. Merry Christmas Bones.’ She smiles and hails a taxi.
Fandom: Bones
Characters: Temperance Brennan, Seeley Booth
Prompt: 092. Christmas
Word Count: 501
Rating: PG
Summary: 'A white Christmas; every child’s dream, her usual nightmare, but this year someone took a little of the pain away.'
Author's Notes: My first fic for fanfic100. Implied Brennan/Booth. Spoilers for 'The Man in the Fallout Shelter', feedback is appreciated.
They are out of quarantine, finally. It is snowing outside, and as the flakes dust her jacket, she smiles. A white Christmas; every child’s dream, her usual nightmare, but this year someone took a little of the pain away.
Everybody was gone. She was alone, just like she loved to be. But this time of year, it killed her to be alone. She tried not to think about it, tried desperately to lose herself in her work like she usually did. She was actually enjoying the company, but when the story of her parents spread through the lab like wildfire, she sought refuge in her office. Angela, her wonderful best friend, had come to comfort her, but there was only false consolation in her words.
And then Booth came. Immediately, her shield went up. He didn’t need to see her crying into Angela’s shoulder. She straightened her shirt, wiped her eyes, and motioned for him to come in. Angela, beside her on the sofa, didn’t wait to open her mouth when she received a questioning glance from Booth. Apparently he, in his doped up state of mind, hadn’t heard the story.
“Her parents disappeared right before Christmas,” Angela said.
“Ang!” she strangled out.
“Run, Forrest, run!” Booth winked as Angela slid past him and out of the room, a quick sorry shouted over her shoulder.
Booth stepped further into the room, and as he did so, he didn’t fail to notice how Brennan’s shoulders slumped and her eyes grew wet with tears again.
“There’s no crying in forensic anthropology, Bones,” Booth joked, referring to the famous movie line.
“I don’t know what that means,” she said, voice low and guarded.
He crossed his arms and watched her nearly break down. If he wasn’t Special Agent Seeley Booth, he would sit beside her on the couch and hold her until she stopped crying. He very nearly went to her side, but before he could move more than a step, she looked up.
“Do you have anything for me?” Brennan asked, referring to the case, her emotions now under control.
Booth hesitated for a moment, brown eyes locked with hers, before he sighed and tossed a manila folder onto her lap.
“We identified some of the stuff in the suitcase, nothing important,” he said.
She flipped open the file and didn’t reply, a sign that Booth recognized. He turned towards the door to leave.
“A League of Their Own,” he said cryptically.
Brennan, thoroughly confused, called after him.
“Booth, I don’t know wha-” she was cut off by Booth’s chuckle.
“It’s okay Bones, relax,” he said before disappearing through the glass door.
She stands in the snow, the movie tucked securely beneath her arm. She had found it on her desk, wrapped in simple paper, a couple hours after everybody left. Puzzled, she had unwrapped it to find a DVD (A League of Their Own) and a note in Booth’s handwriting; ‘My house tonight, seven o’clock, bring the movie. Merry Christmas Bones.’ She smiles and hails a taxi.