True story: I would probably be spamming you with Harry/Ruth YT clips, since that's the mood I'm in.
GIVE ME SOMETHING TO DO THIS AFTERNOON, INTERNET:
The first TEN people to comment in this post get to request a drabble of ANY pairing/character of their choosing (of ANY fandom) from me (with a prompt? maybe? sincerely, me). In return, they have to post this in their journal, regardless of their ability level. THAT'S A STUPID CAVEAT.
Let's test ( Read more... )
The first TEN people to comment in this post get to request a drabble of ANY pairing/character of their choosing (of ANY fandom) from me (with a prompt? maybe? sincerely, me). In return, they have to post this in their journal, regardless of their ability level. THAT'S A STUPID CAVEAT.
Let's test ( Read more... )
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Cam shuts her eyes, opens them, and yup: she is still very, very drunk.
"Remind me," she says, "again, of just what exactly we're doing right now?"
Angela is at the bar stool next to her, and Cam thinks, oh man if I look anything like what she looks like right now, then I am severely, severely intoxicated. Also, Angela looks nice. Really.
"I think we're supposed to be getting Brennan drunk," Angela replies, a little unsure.
"Because?"
Angela think. "I think it's because she almost got blown up again today."
Oh, riiiiiiiight. That.
Angela adds, "She should really stop doing that. It's frustrating."
Cam sighs. "Except that now I, I am the one who's drunk."
"Yeah, me, too, and I am a lot."
"Right, and also Brennan is no longer here."
"Nooooo. No she is not. She went home. With Booth." Angela giggles with a small snort at that last part, which then dissolves into a throaty, giggling laughter. "She went home with Booth."
Cam catches Angela's eye, and now she's laughing, too. They laugh about that for a while, to be honest.
"I swear to God," Cam says, "sometimes they do that super-annoying yet somehow-awesome meaningful-stare thing and I want to just, like, push them together or something. It's ridiculous."
"Oh, my God. Seriously, sweetie? Welcome to the last five years of my life."
"I salute you. Was it always this bad?"
"Worse: they used to yell at each other." Angela scrunches up her face. "Actually, that was kinda hot."
Eventually, Cam notices that two bottles of beer have materialized in front of them. They - she's pretty sure they didn't order those? Pretty sure. Cam looks confused at the bartender, who points down the bar to two - okay, so they're gentlemen, dressed nice enough, but they look more like kids. Kids who just learned to shave and drive and get carded when they see R-rated movies, let alone at a bar.
They wave.
Angela sighs blissfully. "Oh, President Obama, I sort of love you sometimes."
"Hey," Cam warns. "Don't even think about it."
"Are you kidding me? Wendell looks older than those two." She waves back. "But that doesn't make them any less adorable."
Cam tries to do the mental math on whether another beer on top of all that tequila is going to be a good idea, but she eventually gives up a) thinking, b) caring, and takes a swig.
"Remind me why we come here all the time now?" Angela asks.
"I think it was the $4 beers on Sam Adams' birthday?" She thinks. "Or was it Booth's birthday, I can't remember."
"Oh, God," Angela says dramatically, and they're back to this topic again apparently, "Booth's birthday and that damned toast. Just make out already or something, GOD." Her voice is pretty much raised above the din of the crowd, and few people are staring, which isn't embarrassing or anything, just incredibly amusing to Cam. Angela amends, in a quieter tone, "I'm sorry. I really do do other things besides get completely wasted and complain about Brennan."
Cam is pretty sure that Angela is giving her a look after that, and that she knows exactly what it means.
"Oh, no, you don't."
Angela only smiles devilishly. "You are no fun."
"That," Cam says, devilish smile of her own, "is so not true."
"Then I think you should go over there and get one of those nice boys to make out with you."
So Cam does.
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(for a minute, i thought you were going to write me cam/angela, and i won't lie: VERY, VERY EXCITED.)
THAT IS TOTALLY HOW THAT STARTS OUT, BTW. THE BEGINNING IS VERY AWESOME ALSO, TOO.
*CANNOT UNCAPSLOCK THIS EVENING*
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Angela shuts the door while giggling, and Cam pounds on the headrest of his seat, saying, "Oh, just drive, Seeley."
He glances at the clock - 2:23am. Oh, yeah, he is so going to make them pay for this so hard.
(Okay, so maybe he didn't have to answer the phone. He only does these things to himself, you know.) (That's a lie. Of course he was going to answer the phone. What if it had been an actual emergency instead of we-spent-all-our-money-at-the-bar emergency?) (Plus, this evening was sort of his idea.)
After a few minutes (upside: D.C. in the middle of the night? deserted) of quiet from the backseat, Booth hears Cam say something, Angela snorts, and then she says to him, trying to be completely serious but failing miserably, "So, uh, Booth, where's... Brennan?" Another snort.
He looks at them in the mirror again. "Home," he says evenly, knowing exactly what she's implying.
"Which one?"
"Angela?"
"Yes, sweetie?"
He can say this, because they're wasted. "You are a seriously crazy lunatic sometimes."
"Thank you," she smiles. And then apropos of absolutely nothing, she immediately segues into, "So Cam made out with a baby White House guy tonight."
He hears Cam shove Angela. "First of all, he was twenty-three, not a baby," (Angela: THAT'S A BABY), "and second, I happen to agree wholeheartedly with Brennan's fixation on younger men."
"Plus he was hot."
"Yes. Yes, he was."
"Wow," Booth says, laughing. "I almost hope you don't remember telling me that tomorrow."
"Me, too," she agrees.
Cam's place is closer, so he drops her off first - waits patiently in the street until he sees her light go on in her apartment - then heads to Angela's (which, he realizes, he's never been inside of, which seems weird) (why should that be weird? yeah, I mean, she's Bones' best friend, but still) (whatever).
"You owe us food tomorrow, too," she announces when they're a few blocks away.
"What? Why?"
"Because you got us drunk and took away Brennan."
"That isn't a thing, Angela."
"Yes, it is," she insists. After a minute, "I have plans, you know."
"Plans?"
"Plans. Grand ones."
"Of course you do."
"Oh, you'll see," she says, and for a moment, he's actually terrified that if he has any idea what she's talking about (he's fairly sure he does), she's serious.
"Okay, drunkie," he says instead, pulling up to the curb, "out."
Angela leans over the center console and kisses him lightly on the cheek. (Wow. She smells like alcohol and a bar. Wow.) "Thank you, darling."
"Good night, Angela," he smiles.
-
In the morning, when he comes to pick Bones up for the newest crime scene, he brings them both the magic bagels from the shop down the street. In between glaring at the interns for having the nerve to talk, Cam looks grateful.
("What? Why... don't I get a bagel, Booth?" Bones says, disappointed.
"Don't worry about it, okay, let's just go."
"But I want one."
"Let's go.")
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poor bones. no idea at all.
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