fic: bones, au, booth/brennan, pg-13.
I've been writing this fic for, uhh, a really long time and finally, friggin' finally I beat it to submission. Ha! Victory.
just coffee
fandom: bones
pairing: booth/brennan
rating: pg
spoilers: S2 to play it safe.
words: ~1,500
disclaimer: Hart Hanson, Kathy Reichs etc own the characters. No copyright infringement intended.
notes: What if there were no more murders? AU.
He doesn't know how it happened. He doesn't even want to how it happened. But suddenly, maybe during a weekend or maybe between a sundown and a sunrise, there were no more murders.
They wrap up a case and finish the paper work, and then a month goes by, and for once he has an assignment that doesn't involve a body, and she has been flying all over the world identifying buried war bones.
He digs at her cases, calls her up, “Any chance it's a murder?” and she ponders the thought, he can imagine her eye brows furrowing in Sudan or Ruanda or wherever the hell she's at on that moment.
“No, the cause of death is most definitely a typical war injury,” she concludes. “It wouldn't be your concern even if it was murder.”
He can't help but sigh.
She mentions the date when she'll be back in the States and then, hesitantly, “We could have coffee then, I suppose.”
He pauses. “Yeah, coffee. Coffee sounds good. Now that there are no murders.”
“Booth, don't be ridiculous, there'll always be murders. There just haven't been any as of late,” she says.
There's no rationalizing it. It's in the news, detectives going out of jobs, crime labs focusing on sexual assaults, but she won't believe in such peculiar anomalies. One of the oldest crimes in history can't just evaporate one day.
Except it just has.
*
Dr Sweets looks at them, concern written all over his face. “I'm afraid the FBI has stopped sponsoring your counselling as you haven't been working together for months.”
“But that's ridiculous,” Booth says, even though what's really ridiculous is the fact there are no more murders. “We're still a team, Bones and me.”
“I,” she corrects him.
“You what?”
“Bones and I, it should be 'Bones and I'.”
He gives her a look. “The point is, they can't just tear us apart.”
“It's perfectly logical seeing as how there are no more murders, Booth,” Brennan says. “It was very interesting knowing you, though, doctor.”
“So now you think there are no murders?” Booth asks. “There will always be murders.”
Dr Sweets looks awkward. “I'd love to continue this conversation, but you know, I can't run this office for free..”
Eventually they leave and he drives her back to the Jeffersonian.
“Want to get some coffee on the way over?” she asks, like it's any other regular day with them working - together - and they'll just get coffee, and go back to the case.
But it's not, and even coffee now has an undertone.
“Sure, coffee would be great,” he replies.
*
“Haven't seen you around lately, Seeley,” Cam says with a smile and then gives him a sharp look. “As lovely as it is, can you stop loitering around our work premises and bothering my employees?”
“I'm not bothering anybody,” Booth says with a grin. “Just seeing my old pal Zack.”
“Can you stop hugging me, Agent Booth?” Zack asks him. “Thank you. It's not the physical contact that disturbs me, but the fact your sudden fondness seems less than genuine.”
“Where's Bones, anyway?” Booth wonders out loud as Zack distances himself from the agent.
“She's packing her equipment for another trip to China,” Cam replies, and then her tone changed into an amused one. “You here to ask her for coffee again?”
He ignores her.
*
Sometimes coffee is just coffee. She talks about her work, he talks about his, and it sucks that their work is not their work any more. She has to break it down to him in detail, and he has to do the same to her, and the discussions don't ever really meet half-way.
Sometimes coffee is more than coffee. It's a series of awkward pauses, his tentative questions about her private life (which he'd know about automatically were they working together again), her quick denial to having any and with an amused quirk at one side of her mouth, asking him why he's asking, is he involved with somebody himself.
He's not, how could he be, but the fact that he can't just know without asking, the fact he can't just know her like it's part of the job, that he can't be with her any more without an excuse, it bothers him. It gets to him.
That he has this undeniable caring for her, this commitment, and he can't put a label on it any more, because they're not partners. They're just ...coffee.
He takes her home and stands outside her door, hands in his pockets, because she had some book inside her apartment she wanted him to read (like he reads a lot outside John Crichton and her novels). It was as if on a date, and at the same time very much not, as the thought of getting inside her apartment scared him more than it excited him.
She gives him the book and there's a silence after he thanks her and promises to read it as soon as possible, and there's potential in that silence, maybe she has a wine bottle she wants to open, maybe there's a story she wants to tell him but the time hasn't been right, but no. No. It's just Bones, and it's just coffee, and just a book and just --
“Maybe I should go, then, let you get some sleep,” he says.
She looks disappointed, but only maybe. “Okay, yes. Um. Enjoy the book.”
“I will, thanks,” he replies. “Goodnight, Bones.”
“Goodnight, Booth.”
Everything about their gestures and words is heavy with implication, but he brushes that aside as really, it's not the time for psychology. And implication of what? He doesn't know (but he could guess; wonder, insecurity, hope, rejection, denial, want) which is probably for the best.
*
Time passes. They have coffee, and invite Hodgins and Angela along to make for conversation, but the two just end up smiling knowingly at one another, which annoys Booth. It isn't working. This thing between them, with all the possibilities he could just push away back when they were working together, and this friendship he's now forced to define somehow.
His boss invites Booth to his office and proposes a sabbatical. His head is clearly always elsewhere, he isn't focusing like he should be, he's going to get himself killed, so why not just take a break and --
But Booth can't. He can't just pause and go inside himself, he has to keep working it's the only way he can keep himself together and not be forced to face the fact that.
That he can't live without her, but that's just ridiculous, and that's just. Just.
True.
*
There's a party of some kind at the Jeffersonian, and it's Cam who invites him, so Brennan looks surprised when she first sees him.
“It's been a while,” she says and he nods and lowers his eyes, realizing he's been staring at her.
“It has,” he agrees.
She talks about something work-related and he tries to ignore the fact people are looking at them. They talk and then they argue a little and finally she looks as though she's won.
“It hasn't been the same without you,” she says, smiling. “I mean, professionally.”
“Professionally, yeah, same-- uh, same here,” he repeats. “I mean, not the same.”
“Do you.. want to get some coffee?” she asks, and it's only once they're sitting in the diner and his palms are around the warm mug that he realizes, looking at her looking at him, that maybe she didn't really mean coffee this time.
He's the one who's supposed to be good at reading people.
*
So in the end it's her who goes to him, and he feels stupid about that, because surely he's been aware of this longer than she has, the doubt and the hunger and just the pure care that he has for her.
As usual, her approach is science.
“I mean, what are we, Booth?” she asks and now would be the time to say i, but instead he shrugs.
“We're ..coffee.”
“We're not coffee, Booth. Coffee is just a material manifestation of our connection as it moved outside of the realm of work into our private lives and since then, well, since..” She trails off, pausing as if to gather her thoughts. “We've had to redefine our relationship with one another, and, and now it's becoming apparent that--”
And even she can't say it, so instead she kisses him.
In a world where there are no murders, she tastes like coffee and only that is keeping him from being sick of coffee.
So even if it's scary and undefinable, he pulls her closer and into his apartment, and he isn't really sure about what happens next, an awkward moment of realization of where they've come and where they're heading or what.
Maybe, at this point, he just doesn't care.
---
I'd feel so accomplished, had I not started another Bones fic while struggling with this one. ARGH!
Hope you liked. :)
just coffee
fandom: bones
pairing: booth/brennan
rating: pg
spoilers: S2 to play it safe.
words: ~1,500
disclaimer: Hart Hanson, Kathy Reichs etc own the characters. No copyright infringement intended.
notes: What if there were no more murders? AU.
He doesn't know how it happened. He doesn't even want to how it happened. But suddenly, maybe during a weekend or maybe between a sundown and a sunrise, there were no more murders.
They wrap up a case and finish the paper work, and then a month goes by, and for once he has an assignment that doesn't involve a body, and she has been flying all over the world identifying buried war bones.
He digs at her cases, calls her up, “Any chance it's a murder?” and she ponders the thought, he can imagine her eye brows furrowing in Sudan or Ruanda or wherever the hell she's at on that moment.
“No, the cause of death is most definitely a typical war injury,” she concludes. “It wouldn't be your concern even if it was murder.”
He can't help but sigh.
She mentions the date when she'll be back in the States and then, hesitantly, “We could have coffee then, I suppose.”
He pauses. “Yeah, coffee. Coffee sounds good. Now that there are no murders.”
“Booth, don't be ridiculous, there'll always be murders. There just haven't been any as of late,” she says.
There's no rationalizing it. It's in the news, detectives going out of jobs, crime labs focusing on sexual assaults, but she won't believe in such peculiar anomalies. One of the oldest crimes in history can't just evaporate one day.
Except it just has.
*
Dr Sweets looks at them, concern written all over his face. “I'm afraid the FBI has stopped sponsoring your counselling as you haven't been working together for months.”
“But that's ridiculous,” Booth says, even though what's really ridiculous is the fact there are no more murders. “We're still a team, Bones and me.”
“I,” she corrects him.
“You what?”
“Bones and I, it should be 'Bones and I'.”
He gives her a look. “The point is, they can't just tear us apart.”
“It's perfectly logical seeing as how there are no more murders, Booth,” Brennan says. “It was very interesting knowing you, though, doctor.”
“So now you think there are no murders?” Booth asks. “There will always be murders.”
Dr Sweets looks awkward. “I'd love to continue this conversation, but you know, I can't run this office for free..”
Eventually they leave and he drives her back to the Jeffersonian.
“Want to get some coffee on the way over?” she asks, like it's any other regular day with them working - together - and they'll just get coffee, and go back to the case.
But it's not, and even coffee now has an undertone.
“Sure, coffee would be great,” he replies.
*
“Haven't seen you around lately, Seeley,” Cam says with a smile and then gives him a sharp look. “As lovely as it is, can you stop loitering around our work premises and bothering my employees?”
“I'm not bothering anybody,” Booth says with a grin. “Just seeing my old pal Zack.”
“Can you stop hugging me, Agent Booth?” Zack asks him. “Thank you. It's not the physical contact that disturbs me, but the fact your sudden fondness seems less than genuine.”
“Where's Bones, anyway?” Booth wonders out loud as Zack distances himself from the agent.
“She's packing her equipment for another trip to China,” Cam replies, and then her tone changed into an amused one. “You here to ask her for coffee again?”
He ignores her.
*
Sometimes coffee is just coffee. She talks about her work, he talks about his, and it sucks that their work is not their work any more. She has to break it down to him in detail, and he has to do the same to her, and the discussions don't ever really meet half-way.
Sometimes coffee is more than coffee. It's a series of awkward pauses, his tentative questions about her private life (which he'd know about automatically were they working together again), her quick denial to having any and with an amused quirk at one side of her mouth, asking him why he's asking, is he involved with somebody himself.
He's not, how could he be, but the fact that he can't just know without asking, the fact he can't just know her like it's part of the job, that he can't be with her any more without an excuse, it bothers him. It gets to him.
That he has this undeniable caring for her, this commitment, and he can't put a label on it any more, because they're not partners. They're just ...coffee.
He takes her home and stands outside her door, hands in his pockets, because she had some book inside her apartment she wanted him to read (like he reads a lot outside John Crichton and her novels). It was as if on a date, and at the same time very much not, as the thought of getting inside her apartment scared him more than it excited him.
She gives him the book and there's a silence after he thanks her and promises to read it as soon as possible, and there's potential in that silence, maybe she has a wine bottle she wants to open, maybe there's a story she wants to tell him but the time hasn't been right, but no. No. It's just Bones, and it's just coffee, and just a book and just --
“Maybe I should go, then, let you get some sleep,” he says.
She looks disappointed, but only maybe. “Okay, yes. Um. Enjoy the book.”
“I will, thanks,” he replies. “Goodnight, Bones.”
“Goodnight, Booth.”
Everything about their gestures and words is heavy with implication, but he brushes that aside as really, it's not the time for psychology. And implication of what? He doesn't know (but he could guess; wonder, insecurity, hope, rejection, denial, want) which is probably for the best.
*
Time passes. They have coffee, and invite Hodgins and Angela along to make for conversation, but the two just end up smiling knowingly at one another, which annoys Booth. It isn't working. This thing between them, with all the possibilities he could just push away back when they were working together, and this friendship he's now forced to define somehow.
His boss invites Booth to his office and proposes a sabbatical. His head is clearly always elsewhere, he isn't focusing like he should be, he's going to get himself killed, so why not just take a break and --
But Booth can't. He can't just pause and go inside himself, he has to keep working it's the only way he can keep himself together and not be forced to face the fact that.
That he can't live without her, but that's just ridiculous, and that's just. Just.
True.
*
There's a party of some kind at the Jeffersonian, and it's Cam who invites him, so Brennan looks surprised when she first sees him.
“It's been a while,” she says and he nods and lowers his eyes, realizing he's been staring at her.
“It has,” he agrees.
She talks about something work-related and he tries to ignore the fact people are looking at them. They talk and then they argue a little and finally she looks as though she's won.
“It hasn't been the same without you,” she says, smiling. “I mean, professionally.”
“Professionally, yeah, same-- uh, same here,” he repeats. “I mean, not the same.”
“Do you.. want to get some coffee?” she asks, and it's only once they're sitting in the diner and his palms are around the warm mug that he realizes, looking at her looking at him, that maybe she didn't really mean coffee this time.
He's the one who's supposed to be good at reading people.
*
So in the end it's her who goes to him, and he feels stupid about that, because surely he's been aware of this longer than she has, the doubt and the hunger and just the pure care that he has for her.
As usual, her approach is science.
“I mean, what are we, Booth?” she asks and now would be the time to say i, but instead he shrugs.
“We're ..coffee.”
“We're not coffee, Booth. Coffee is just a material manifestation of our connection as it moved outside of the realm of work into our private lives and since then, well, since..” She trails off, pausing as if to gather her thoughts. “We've had to redefine our relationship with one another, and, and now it's becoming apparent that--”
And even she can't say it, so instead she kisses him.
In a world where there are no murders, she tastes like coffee and only that is keeping him from being sick of coffee.
So even if it's scary and undefinable, he pulls her closer and into his apartment, and he isn't really sure about what happens next, an awkward moment of realization of where they've come and where they're heading or what.
Maybe, at this point, he just doesn't care.
---
I'd feel so accomplished, had I not started another Bones fic while struggling with this one. ARGH!
Hope you liked. :)