Fic: You Got What I Need (Bones; Cam/Sweets)
Title: You Got What I Need
Disclaimer: Not mine in any way, shape, or form.
Fandom/Characters: Bones; Cam/Sweets, Angela
Word Count: 812
Request: For torigates, who wanted something out of our personal Bones canon, which means Cam and Sweets totally dated. So you know, spoilers through season five.
Nothing changes after the night at the bar. Everything changes after the night at the bar.
Cam tries to avoid Sweets, because every time she sees him, he's looking at her with naked longing in his eyes. She's short with Michelle and worse than short with her colleagues at work, until finally one afternoon Angela appears in the doorway of her office.
"I've been sent," she says, with no preamble whatsoever, "to find out what's wrong and to come up with a way to fix it. So what's wrong, Cam?"
Cam stares at her in surprise for a long, silent moment, and then she waves Angela toward one of the guest chairs. "Sit. But close the door behind you, would you?"
Anglea closes the door and takes a chair opposite Cam's desk. She looks at Cam expectantly and Cam sighs.
"Have I been that bad?" she asks, and then thinks the better of it, holding up a hand to ward off the answer. "Don't answer that."
"We're just worried," Angela says, catching Cam's hand with her own and squeezing her fingers gently. "Is everything okay with Michelle?"
"Michelle's fine," Cam says. She closes her eyes and steels herself. Saying it out loud, saying it to someone else, that makes it real. Making it real still terrifies her, even though she knows that it is, with or without the words. When she opens her eyes, she looks straight at Angela and says, "It's Sweets."
Shock and surprise run across Angela's face for just a second, before she manages to stop them. "Sweets?" Angela asks, and Cam can tell just how much effort she's putting into keeping her voice level. "What about Sweets?"
"He -- we -- something happened while you were all gone." Cam pushes back from her desk and stands, starting to pace the length of her office. "It ended and then when you all got back, he and Daisy tried again, but then that ended too and he sait it was because she wasn't me." She stops in her tracks and gives Angela a wild look. "She wasn't me. What am I supposed to do with that, Angela?"
"Well, the last time someone said something like that to me," Angela says, with a faint smile on her face, "I married him. But I'm guessing that's not the answer you were looking for."
"Not as such, no."
"Have you talked to him?"
Cam shakes her head. "I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to talk!"
"What do you want?" Angela asks. "Because you know, Cam. You know that and I know that. What do you want?"
Angela's question hangs in the air between them, and Cam stares at her, trying to come up with the answer to the question that's been bothering her for the last two weeks. There's so much she wants -- so much she needs, if she's been honest with herself. Somewhere, somehow, when she wasn't looking, Sweets became something that she needs.
And that's the answer to all the questions.
"I have to go," Cam says, grabbing her purse from the corner of her desk. "I have to go."
Angela smiles, just a little. "I thought you might."
Cam stops on her way out the door to give Angela a hug. The ferocity behind it surprises them both. "Thank you," she says. "Just, thank you."
Then she's gone, rushing out the door and out of the Jeffersonian. She has an FBI psychiatrist to see.
***
Cam finds him in his office, going over case files. She lets herself in and closes the door behind her, turning the lock.
"Cam?" Sweets asks, standing up. "What's --"
"Don't talk," she says, holding up a hand. "Just let me say this."
He nods. "Okay."
"You're not right for me," she starts, eyes intent on his face. "You're too young and you use the word dude too often and you probably have more in common with my daughter than you do with me. We shouldn't work, you know we shouldn't. But you're smart and you're funny and you're such a good man. And it doesn't seem to matter what I do to convince myself to try to move on, the simple fact of it is that whenever I think about it, I realize that no one else is going to be you." She pauses and then says more forcefully, "No one else is you."
"Are you finished?" Sweets asks, his voice rougher than she's ever heard it before.
Cam nods, not sure she even has any words left.
"Good," he says, and then he's rounding his desk and is across the room in just two steps. He cups her face in his hands and he kisses her, kisses her like he's trying to make up for all the time they've lost.
Cam wraps her arms around his neck and does the same.
Disclaimer: Not mine in any way, shape, or form.
Fandom/Characters: Bones; Cam/Sweets, Angela
Word Count: 812
Request: For torigates, who wanted something out of our personal Bones canon, which means Cam and Sweets totally dated. So you know, spoilers through season five.
Nothing changes after the night at the bar. Everything changes after the night at the bar.
Cam tries to avoid Sweets, because every time she sees him, he's looking at her with naked longing in his eyes. She's short with Michelle and worse than short with her colleagues at work, until finally one afternoon Angela appears in the doorway of her office.
"I've been sent," she says, with no preamble whatsoever, "to find out what's wrong and to come up with a way to fix it. So what's wrong, Cam?"
Cam stares at her in surprise for a long, silent moment, and then she waves Angela toward one of the guest chairs. "Sit. But close the door behind you, would you?"
Anglea closes the door and takes a chair opposite Cam's desk. She looks at Cam expectantly and Cam sighs.
"Have I been that bad?" she asks, and then thinks the better of it, holding up a hand to ward off the answer. "Don't answer that."
"We're just worried," Angela says, catching Cam's hand with her own and squeezing her fingers gently. "Is everything okay with Michelle?"
"Michelle's fine," Cam says. She closes her eyes and steels herself. Saying it out loud, saying it to someone else, that makes it real. Making it real still terrifies her, even though she knows that it is, with or without the words. When she opens her eyes, she looks straight at Angela and says, "It's Sweets."
Shock and surprise run across Angela's face for just a second, before she manages to stop them. "Sweets?" Angela asks, and Cam can tell just how much effort she's putting into keeping her voice level. "What about Sweets?"
"He -- we -- something happened while you were all gone." Cam pushes back from her desk and stands, starting to pace the length of her office. "It ended and then when you all got back, he and Daisy tried again, but then that ended too and he sait it was because she wasn't me." She stops in her tracks and gives Angela a wild look. "She wasn't me. What am I supposed to do with that, Angela?"
"Well, the last time someone said something like that to me," Angela says, with a faint smile on her face, "I married him. But I'm guessing that's not the answer you were looking for."
"Not as such, no."
"Have you talked to him?"
Cam shakes her head. "I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to talk!"
"What do you want?" Angela asks. "Because you know, Cam. You know that and I know that. What do you want?"
Angela's question hangs in the air between them, and Cam stares at her, trying to come up with the answer to the question that's been bothering her for the last two weeks. There's so much she wants -- so much she needs, if she's been honest with herself. Somewhere, somehow, when she wasn't looking, Sweets became something that she needs.
And that's the answer to all the questions.
"I have to go," Cam says, grabbing her purse from the corner of her desk. "I have to go."
Angela smiles, just a little. "I thought you might."
Cam stops on her way out the door to give Angela a hug. The ferocity behind it surprises them both. "Thank you," she says. "Just, thank you."
Then she's gone, rushing out the door and out of the Jeffersonian. She has an FBI psychiatrist to see.
***
Cam finds him in his office, going over case files. She lets herself in and closes the door behind her, turning the lock.
"Cam?" Sweets asks, standing up. "What's --"
"Don't talk," she says, holding up a hand. "Just let me say this."
He nods. "Okay."
"You're not right for me," she starts, eyes intent on his face. "You're too young and you use the word dude too often and you probably have more in common with my daughter than you do with me. We shouldn't work, you know we shouldn't. But you're smart and you're funny and you're such a good man. And it doesn't seem to matter what I do to convince myself to try to move on, the simple fact of it is that whenever I think about it, I realize that no one else is going to be you." She pauses and then says more forcefully, "No one else is you."
"Are you finished?" Sweets asks, his voice rougher than she's ever heard it before.
Cam nods, not sure she even has any words left.
"Good," he says, and then he's rounding his desk and is across the room in just two steps. He cups her face in his hands and he kisses her, kisses her like he's trying to make up for all the time they've lost.
Cam wraps her arms around his neck and does the same.