fic: bones, zack & angela gen, pg. //crossposting.
The Art of Off-Topic
Fandom: Bones (tv)
Written for: brightbear in the Yuletide 2006 Challenge
by veracious
Major thanks to m_jade8 for betaing & offering her thoughts.
While you are putting together a skeleton and he's examining trace samples, Hodgins has that smile on his face that you've never been sure how to interpret (interpretations not based on scientific research results have never been something you're very good at). You kind of wish you were doing this in the company of Dr Brennan, because she doesn't have any mysterious smiles and the conversation is kept appropriately work-related, filled with words you can actually understand. Hodgins can do anything, smile, tell a weird joke you have to pretend you get or hum some bizarre tune, and then look at you when you fail to recognize it and then he says something like, "Oh c'mon, you must know that one! Surely you watched some TV as a kid!"
(You didn't watch much television, at least not when there were books around that you could indulge in, and seeing as how your parents realized your healthy appetite for knowledge early on, there usually were books around.)
"What are you smiling about? Is there something amusing about that dirt?" you ask.
"I have a date tonight," he replies in that self-content way of his.
This is where you could ask him something, anything, get some details, but usually you just get back to work. You don't particularly enjoy looking ignorant; you do it accidentally too much anyway. Dates, girls, bugs - Hodgins is more knowledgeable than you in all three areas, and just like you don't enjoy the look he gives you when you mess up the Latin name of some common spider, you don't like the look you receive when you're trying to sound, well, normal.
*
Angela is a bit nicer about it, so sometimes you're comfortable around her. She has a picture open on her laptop's web browser, and by complete chance, you recognize it.
"The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp, by Rembrandt, 1632."
She looks at you, amused. "Didn't know you were a fan of art, Zack."
"I saw it in a book once," you reply.
"Oh, that's right. I forgot about your insanely good photographic memory." She's searching for something she was supposed to show you about the case, on the computer or the paper files, but can't find it. This is no problem to her in any shape or form but for you making non-work related small talk is a bit difficult. But you try.
"The only reason I remember it is because I noticed some of the physical impossibilities in the painting. My hypothesis is that the artist used a live situation for some of the time he worked on the painting, but the rest he painted on his own, thus not resulting in a completely realistic depiction."
Angela has no comeback to that, for a while, and she continues searching. "Well, you make do with what you can. That's my job description for you."
"Yeah," you say and there's another silence, a longer one. This would be comfortable if you had some work to keep you busy, but instead you just stare at the back of her head, as she sighs in frustration and does another search on her computer's hard drive.
"Maybe I should go and you can let me know when you find it," you say to make for a quick escape. But then she sighs again and turns around to look at you apologetically. It probably wouldn't be good manners to leave at this point so you just stand there and listen to her.
"I'm sorry, Zack, I'm a bit slow today. I didn't know we were going to get called in over the weekend again, and my friend from St. Petersburg was here for 24 hours last night. You know, just enough to teach me how the Russians drink vodka but not enough to show me how they deal with the hangover the next morning. I'll find the pictures, I swear, I just need to wake up a bit."
"It's fine, I get it," you say because it's what you hear Hodgins telling Angela whenever she opens up about some problem of hers. In reality, no, you don't really get it.
"Do you, Zack, do you really?" She smiles with one corner of her mouth. "What kind of friends do you have?"
"A few," you answer, almost automatically. "I'm usually happier by myself."
It's true but you feel bad saying it out loud. After all, society is based on social interaction between people. You have your family, you have this family and you have friends, some, people whose company you can occasionally enjoy and find interesting. But generally, truthfully, you like to be alone. Or in company of very few people. One, preferably. Parties make you twitchy.
"Oh," she says and pauses, and just when you think you killed the conversation, she says, "You know, you and I never really talk."
Even if you're not good at reading people, you know she says everything in a warm, friendly manner. She's just as pretty, perhaps even prettier than all those girls in high school or college that seemed to lack the gene needed in order to pay any attention to guys like you. But Angela's not like that at all, and it's not just that you work together, she's one of the few people who you don't just suspect to be genuine but truly believe she just is genuine. You're kind of almost touched by her sudden interest in you, but you don't know how to show it.
"Our areas of expertise are quite far from each other --"
"I know, I know." She smiles. "But non-work related things, Zack, I don't know much about those."
"There's not much to know," you say and it's true, really. She probably knows it too, knows that she and you are just very dissimilar and could probably never relate on the level she'd connect with a person of lower IQ with a bigger interest in social activity. Or just a person of her own gender, like Dr Brennan.
"Still. Let's do lunch together sometime. I won't pressure you or anything but just consider it, all right?"
You do know that Angela has a tendency to make friends out of co-workers, almost as if to make her work more bearable, or perhaps it's just her personality and you can't be really one to talk, since you hang out with Hodgins more than some of your real, non-work friends. You also consider that maybe you should just stop analyzing the situation and accept it as it is. She wants to spend time with you. That's okay.
"Okay," you answer. The possibility of having to be social with Angela outside of work does make you slightly anxious, and you don't want to hear what Hodgins would say if he found out, but a part of you also awaits it, almost. You could get a chance to ask about certain mysteries about the female gender that you've been uncomfortable asking Hodgins about, as it usually just leads to him bragging about his conquests in that area. It wouldn't be like that with Angela.
There's a slightly awkward gap in the conversation until her face suddenly lights up as if she's had an idea.
"You're in luck, Zack, my brain just woke up!" Turning around in her chair, she reaches her hand for the opposite end of her desk and grabs a small object, and quickly turns back to hand it to you. "USB stick," she says, triumphant. "All the data you needed in the first place is stored there."
"Thanks, Angela."
"No problem, Zack."
It's one of the few times you're not the least bothered by the conversation being prolonged unnecessarily. Returning to your work space, you feel like tricking Hodgins.
"Angela asked me out," you tell him and for a moment he's quiet, like he doesn't know how to react. This is rare. You indulge in the moment.
"Happy April Fool's to you, too, Zack."
"It's October," you point out.
"Tell that to Angela."
"You're jealous."
Hodgins doesn't look up from his microscope. "You've got the wrong guy, I don't do jealousy. If you want jealous, try mentioning Brennan going on a date when Booth's around." He trails off, finally seeing something in the microscope.
Then everything is focused on the case again, and you go through the data Angela gave you. You're determined to piece it all together, once again, because it's just what you do. Sometimes you wonder how everyone you work with occasionally slips into discussions on topics that have nothing to do with the task at hand. Before you began working at the Jeffersonian, you didn't think it'd happen to you, thought you'd be more focused than that. Nowadays you realize these off-topic conversations, no matter how irrelevant, they're important, a way of connecting and dealing with everything that you and others have to face while working. Maybe not survival but necessary.
Unfortunately you don't think it's a topic that you could bring up with Angela over casual lunch.