Bones Fic: The things she says without saying a word
Title: The things she says without saying a word
Author: bea_tricks
Genre: Friendship
Rating: PG
Summary: Angela'a POV of the end scene of Tough Man in the Tender Chicken. I always like pondering what the other squints think when observing Booth and Brennan together.
--
Yes, I'm upset. My best friend won't even recognize that saving this pig is important to me. I know she has challenges when it comes to interacting like normal people. I'm patient with her, as Booth is, as anyone has to be to have a relationship with her. But at times like this, I feel that it's a little one-sided.
The case had been solved, and the tradition is to celebrate at the Founding Fathers. I'd been so upset that I told off my best friend. I'd been gratified by the look on her face, and I'd walked away. I wasn't exactly in the mood for celebrating, but Wendell and his magic fingers had been persuasive. You'll have a drink, you'll relax. It'll do you good. Okay, if you promise more of that relaxation later, and if you keep up that adorable smile, I'll join the party.
The group had spread out in the usual formation: a tight amalgam of the squints and interns -- chatting in twos or threes, separating, alloying again -- and Brennan and Booth together at the other end of the bar.
I got past the twinge of jealousy a long time ago, the dig that Booth has been able to tempt my best friend farther out of her shell than I ever could. He makes her happy. How can I resent that?
Besides, she's coaxed Booth out of his shell too, whether she knows it or not. Catching a glimpse of the real Booth, the man that hides behind that grumpy demeanor and cocky belt buckle, is just so rare to the rest of us. But he lays himself bare before her without a second thought.
This seems to be the case now. The stoic agent has a definite slump going on. The sag of his shoulders, the way he's slowly wringing the daylights out of the straw in his hands. He looks lost, doubtful, and his drink is so near hers that their hands are almost touching. Yes, he needs her as much as she needs him.
Perhaps she senses me watching, because Brennan looks up and we lock eyes for a moment. I feel like my heart is going to fly up out of my throat, but I hold my expression. God, this hurts. The conversation catches my attention and I turn back to my coworkers and my pina colada.
My attention returns to them when I hear a deep murmur from him followed by her laughter, and he's wearing a tentative smile. Oh my God, is that his bedroom voice? How is she not jumping him right now? Yet another area where we don't see eye to eye.
Then she pulls out a folded paper and I see the flash of pink, followed by a long, pensive look between them. Oh wonderful, she's asking what he thinks of their argument. Booth loves meat. And Brennan. It's obvious what he'll say, and then she'll be further convinced of just how right she is. I take an evasive gulp of my alcohol and jump back to Cam's tales about dating in New York City.
I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn, noticing that Brennan is no longer in her seat, and that Booth is looking my way.
She's holding her checkbook. "I want to help you save your pig from becoming bacon."
Okay, even Booth couldn't change her mind that easily; she had been firmly entrenched in her beloved logic. And that's when it hits me: she wasn't asking Booth's opinion about the argument, she was asking his advice on how to end it. Our hug is full of laughs and just like that the fight is done. We may have little in common, but she's just made it clear how much our friendship is worth to her.
I look down. Fifteen hundred dollars. The full amount to give me what I want. My heart swells and I vow that tomorrow I will take her to lunch. I vow that tonight I will buy Wendell forty five dollars worth of drinks.
When I glance back, Booth is smiling. Brennan has followed his advice without question and he's floored.
I'm so amazed at the things she says without saying a word.
Author: bea_tricks
Genre: Friendship
Rating: PG
Summary: Angela'a POV of the end scene of Tough Man in the Tender Chicken. I always like pondering what the other squints think when observing Booth and Brennan together.
--
Yes, I'm upset. My best friend won't even recognize that saving this pig is important to me. I know she has challenges when it comes to interacting like normal people. I'm patient with her, as Booth is, as anyone has to be to have a relationship with her. But at times like this, I feel that it's a little one-sided.
The case had been solved, and the tradition is to celebrate at the Founding Fathers. I'd been so upset that I told off my best friend. I'd been gratified by the look on her face, and I'd walked away. I wasn't exactly in the mood for celebrating, but Wendell and his magic fingers had been persuasive. You'll have a drink, you'll relax. It'll do you good. Okay, if you promise more of that relaxation later, and if you keep up that adorable smile, I'll join the party.
The group had spread out in the usual formation: a tight amalgam of the squints and interns -- chatting in twos or threes, separating, alloying again -- and Brennan and Booth together at the other end of the bar.
I got past the twinge of jealousy a long time ago, the dig that Booth has been able to tempt my best friend farther out of her shell than I ever could. He makes her happy. How can I resent that?
Besides, she's coaxed Booth out of his shell too, whether she knows it or not. Catching a glimpse of the real Booth, the man that hides behind that grumpy demeanor and cocky belt buckle, is just so rare to the rest of us. But he lays himself bare before her without a second thought.
This seems to be the case now. The stoic agent has a definite slump going on. The sag of his shoulders, the way he's slowly wringing the daylights out of the straw in his hands. He looks lost, doubtful, and his drink is so near hers that their hands are almost touching. Yes, he needs her as much as she needs him.
Perhaps she senses me watching, because Brennan looks up and we lock eyes for a moment. I feel like my heart is going to fly up out of my throat, but I hold my expression. God, this hurts. The conversation catches my attention and I turn back to my coworkers and my pina colada.
My attention returns to them when I hear a deep murmur from him followed by her laughter, and he's wearing a tentative smile. Oh my God, is that his bedroom voice? How is she not jumping him right now? Yet another area where we don't see eye to eye.
Then she pulls out a folded paper and I see the flash of pink, followed by a long, pensive look between them. Oh wonderful, she's asking what he thinks of their argument. Booth loves meat. And Brennan. It's obvious what he'll say, and then she'll be further convinced of just how right she is. I take an evasive gulp of my alcohol and jump back to Cam's tales about dating in New York City.
I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn, noticing that Brennan is no longer in her seat, and that Booth is looking my way.
She's holding her checkbook. "I want to help you save your pig from becoming bacon."
Okay, even Booth couldn't change her mind that easily; she had been firmly entrenched in her beloved logic. And that's when it hits me: she wasn't asking Booth's opinion about the argument, she was asking his advice on how to end it. Our hug is full of laughs and just like that the fight is done. We may have little in common, but she's just made it clear how much our friendship is worth to her.
I look down. Fifteen hundred dollars. The full amount to give me what I want. My heart swells and I vow that tomorrow I will take her to lunch. I vow that tonight I will buy Wendell forty five dollars worth of drinks.
When I glance back, Booth is smiling. Brennan has followed his advice without question and he's floored.
I'm so amazed at the things she says without saying a word.