Conclusion.
Driving Ch. 6
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Booth was heading home at the end of a long day, feet dragging, jacket already off and slung over one shoulder. He saw a figure lurking by his front door and wanted to slam his forehead into a wall. But as he got closer, the curly hair and the beard were actually a relief for about a second. It wasn't that squint, but it was still a squint. Booth was back to wanting to slam his head into a wall.
Seeing Booth, Hodgins got a let's talk turkey stance, arms crossed, chin up. Here we go.
"What the Hell, Hodgins?"
"You don't want me here, I don't want to be here," Jack started off. "But I care about Zack."
It might have been Booth's imagination that Jack wore a look that said don't touch him he's mine. It was too late for that warning. Booth wore a look made of stone, he was Mount Rushmore, the Easter Island guys, and the Lincoln Memorial rolled into one.
"Good. Great. Mazal Tov," Booth told Hodgins, ready to muscle past him.
"And what you are doing with him..."
Booth paused and decided but he didn't need to deny anything. There was nothing to deny. It was over. Never happened. No need to pronounce the thing dead. The stone face was still in place.
"I want in," Jack said.
"In? What?!" The stone face crumbled.
"I want in on this thing with you and Zack."
"It's not a poker game. He's your friend! You are supposed to put a stop to this insanity not turn it into an orgy."
"Three people is not an orgy, it's a threesome or a menage a trois if you want to be French about it," Hodgins lectured. "As for putting a stop to this, I think you have me confused with your high school principal or a stern nun." As soon as he finished saying that, Jack spotted a funny look in Booth's eye. "Are you picturing me in a nun's habit?"
"Yeah, wait, OK I'm done. And I'm done with Zack. He's all yours."
"Are you? I was kidding about dealing me in. Just wanted to see your face and get around the denial phase of the proceedings. Didn't expect that you want out." Hodgins wore an expression that was one part puzzled and two parts amused.
Booth hung his head - after so many interrogations to be tricked so easily and by a squint. Booth sighed.
"Can we skip the part where I threaten you if you ever repeat any of this?"
"Aha," Hodgins agreed easily. "In his own way, Zack is irresistible. If I was gay, I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off him. He lives above my garage. Do you know what I'd have to do not to jump him?"
"Don't even think about telling me. And I'm not gay."
"Zack's bespoiled virtue says otherwise."
"Bespoiled?"
"And by you, of all people."
"What's wrong with me?"
"I have neither the time nor the qualifications to answer that question. But since you are done messing with my best friend, we are square."
"Yeah thanks for letting me off easy," Booth said with sarcasm that Jack chose to ignore as he walked away.
-
"Close your eyes, Zack."
"I prefer to keep them open that way I won't miss anything."
"Well, it's unnerving."
"That's just my off putting manner. I've been told..."
"Stop talking and start moving," Booth ordered him.
Booth was taking it easy after the frenzied first go when he did all the work. He wanted to see what made Zack crazy, actually he found that Zack made him crazy. Zack was sitting on top of him, staring. Booth lifted him. Zack closed his eyes. They were just touching.
"This position will be difficult to maintain once..."
"Don't be lazy, Zack. Earn your keep."
Zack started moving.
-
Zack felt pressure. He was in control. Booth was lying back. Zack's body told him what to do. He pushed down. His face contorted with the intrusion. His head was back. His vision darkened at the edges. He heard noises forming in his throat, flying out of his open mouth. This was the thing he had seen in Booth - in control and not in control. His body drove him to do things. He pushed himself down hard, gritted his teeth. Booth grunted, surprised.
"Take it slow."
Zack shook his head. He couldn't talk. He was afraid to breathe or move. He waited for his body to tell him what to do next. Whatever it was, he would do it.
-
"Get up!"
Zack didn't. In fact he was glad that he had been lying on his stomach. There was even appropriate and innocently scientific reading material in front of him.
"As my landlord..." Zack started to object to the invasion. He had paid close attention, memorized every detail, every sensation for just this contingency. He didn't like the interruption. Hodgins didn't care.
"OK, you and me. I am going to show you what a wild night on the town with Jack Hodgins is all about. Why women love me, and men fear me, and sometimes love me. Bring your health insurance card and your passport. Because we could end the night in Caracas, we could end the night in the ER, or we could end the night in the Caracas ER."
"A medical emergency in a foreign country sounds tempting," Zack said in a monotone that was more downbeat than usual.
"Where's the love?"
"Booth," was Zack's one word answer. It was all he had to say after the earful he gave Hodgins on the subject days ago.
"Couldn't you at least let me down gently?"
"You don't need me. You have all those women."
"Monogamy is not a choice is a fallback position for those who can't do any better," Hodgins recited. "Learn from me, my young friend. I am ready to teach you."
"I want Booth to teach me."
"My ego can't take this. Snap out of it. You let Booth mess with your head, he's not certified."
"I am just suffering withdrawal symptoms. Living off steamy memories," Zack mumbled as he rested his chin on his hands.
"Lift your chin, Zack, and speak clearly."
"Like that time he had me in the dirt," Zack continued, doing as he was told without really paying attention.
"Dirt is right. Keep talking and be descriptive. "
After going on for a while Zack heard a click of a small recording device.
"You carry that with you?" Zack asked.
"You've met me before, right?"
-
Jack caught Booth unloading groceries from his car.
"Why couldn't you just keep ignoring Zack? You were doing so well. Hell, I admired you for it," Jack asked as he leaned against the side of the SUV while Booth picked up some bags from the back.
"Why are we talking about Zack?" Booth put a warning growl into his voice.
"Zack's moping."
"And how can you tell?" Booth was walking away with groceries. Jack followed him.
"He holds his head at a 39 degree angle instead of his usual 42 degree angle," Jack quipped.
"Try telling him jokes."
"The kind of jokes Zack finds funny make my ears bleed."
"So you squints are not all cut from the same cloth," Booth concluded as he unlocked his front door and pushed it open with his knee.
"If we were, you would have had me up against the air compressor instead of Zack."
Booth stopped, letting his front door swing open. He felt a deer in the headlights effects as Jack's weird eyes bored into him. The silence stretched out. Booth's head filled with Zack saying 'this feels so good', his words broken up by the slamming of Booth's body against his and the thumping of the machine.
"He told you about that," Booth finally said.
"He wouldn't stop talking about the vibrations." Jack grimaced. The memory didn't put a dreamy look in his eye.
"Mmm... I mean, mmm," Boot said in a more thoughtful tone. He made his way into the kitchen and set his grocery bags on the counter. Jack was right behind him.
"I've been trying to cheer him up, but he isn't up for it."
"You can't kiss it and make it better? Aww. I guess you aren't the man for the job."
"Ooh, getting territorial over our Zack," Jack emphasized 'our'.
"I'm not..."
"Maybe I can cheer you up."
"Hodgins!"
"Yes."
"I just cut the line on one squint."
"Zack is a small fish. You were right to cut him loose. I think I can teach you a thing or two."
"Really? Like what?" Booth challenged hoping to put Jack on the spot.
"I'll make you a list."
"Oh God, lists. Are all of you squints..."
"Just kidding, man. Take it easy. Zack really did a number on you."
"You know about the list too."
"I know everything. Zack isn't good with boundaries, and he trusts me completely. I have so much blackmail material on you..."
"And you'll use it to get what?"
"A wild night on the town. The kind of night where anything could happen, but you'll only remember half of it, if you're lucky."
"Socializing with squints? Squint socializing? Does that sound appealing?"
"That's where the blackmail comes in, my friend"
"Well, my friend, unless you have pictures...You don't have pictures?"
"No. Audio only. Zack going on and on. The descriptions are a little clinical but that memory of his. Man, the places I wish I could plant him." Jack considered his words. "That wasn't supposed to be dirty."
"It wasn't. It was weird."
"I meant like a bug, you know, plant him like a bug."
"Aha."
"Yeah. So you up at ten, old man? Because that's when I'm picking you up. Wear something...you know. " Jack made a curvy shape in the air and didn't wait for an answer.
-
"Zack, are you listening," Jack asked as Zack wasn't even pretending to listen
"No. I'm picturing Booth's naked body. Except for socks. Mmm. Now the socks are gone."
"A little louder. You know this isn't a gay bar," Booth hissed in Hodgins' ear. Hodgins rubbed at his earlobe. He was sitting at the bar between Booth and Zack. Zack was blowing bubbles into his beer. Booth was knocking his back manfully.
"Ooh, can we go to a gay bar?" Zack asked, beer foam on his lip.
"No," Booth and Hodgins said in unison. Jack, realizing he was sounding as uptight as Booth, changed his tune.
"Yes, yes we can."
Zack positively beamed. "Am I dressed OK?" he asked turning to Jack for inspection.
"No. Never. But never mind that."
"Wait. I changed my mind." Zack turned back to the bar and his beer.
"What? Why?" Jack asked not exactly disappointed.
"The sexy dancing men would climb Booth like he was a big sexy mountain and I would loose him forever."
"OK, this is supposed to be a guys night out. Guys just being guys. That's guys not gays," Jack reminded him.
Zack had his head on the bar and looked around Hodgins and up at Booth with his big sad eyes.
"You look funny," he told Booth.
"You look plastered. What did he have, two beers?" Booth asked Hodgins.
"Four. I had four," Zack corrected him, showing him four fingers as proof.
"He isn't drunk, he can still count," Hodgins said.
"Yeah, to four. On his fingers. Try some real math on him."
Zack started reciting some math and Booth clutched his head.
"No, no. Stop that. I'm saving my headache for tomorrow."
A few drinks later, Booth got up and pulled Jack aside.
"OK, Hodgins." Booth had his arm on Jack's shoulder, uncharacteristically. They both looked at it like it was a dead fish someone had placed there. The hand didn't move on its own, and Booth didn't seem to realize that it was up to him to move it.
"OK," he tried again this time remembering what came after 'ok'. "OK, since I'm now drunk... You would say I'm drunk, right?"
"I will certify that you are drunk. I will testify in court that you are drunk. And I swiped your keys half an hour ago."
"Oh good. So I'm certifiably drunk. And Zack is drunk, right? He's still drunk?" They both craned their necks to see drunk Zack still sitting at the bar.
"He's drunk. He's talking to bar peanuts about their many uses and unique properties."
"That's nice. So is it OK for a drunk FBI agent to have wild men's room sex with a drunk squint, namely Zack."
"Am I your moral compass? Wow, you are drunk. OK, no to everything especially the men's room sex. That's is a straight men's room in a straight bar intended strictly for straight sex, and some other activities."
"That's what makes it so exciting."
"Sorry, I can't let Zack get arrested like a common US Senator."
"I'll flash my badge and clear the place." Booth beamed with his bright idea and reached for his badge. Hodgins pulled his hand down.
"You are just dying to end up in the tabloids."
"You're just jealous. You want to take him into a stall and boink him yourself." Booth made a motion with his hips. Jack look around to make sure no one was paying attention to them.
"No, I am straight. And not like you, really straight." Jack enunciated to compensate for bar noise and for Booth's beer impaired hearing.
"You said..."
"I was kidding. Remember?"
"You are holding out for a threesome," Booth accused.
"I am taking you guys home."
"We've done it there already. I know, you can stand guard outside the men's room."
Jack saw Booth leering at Zack over his shoulder and waved his hand in front of Booth's face making him dizzy.
"I am not here to facilitate your gayness. I was trying to normalize things between you guys. Booth!" he said, pulling on Booth's arm. Booth's attention had strayed back to Zack.
"Aww, he's gonna fall," Booth said as Zack slid off the barstool then got back on. "Look at his little tush. I just wanna..." Booth made squeezing motions and headed for Zack. Hodgins steered him to his own barstool and away from Zack's tush.
"No one can have him, he's mine!" Booth announced to the bar.
"Shh. OK, we're going. You, Addy, up on your feet," Hodgins ordered.
-
Jack sat between them in the back of the cab, keeping Booth's hands out of Zack's lap. Zack was too far gone to be much trouble. He breathed on the cab window and seemed delighted when it fogged up. The streets were wet, the streetlights warped in the puddles. The raindrops on the windshield splintering the view.
"I want to go home with Booth," Zack said slowly and clearly when they stopped to let Booth out.
"Are you...?" Jack started to ask, but Zack was already climbing over him after Booth. "You have your own door, you know."
Booth was holding Zack up on the sidewalk, or maybe using him for support. It looked so wrong. Jack closed the car door on the view and told the driver his address.
-
Booth found that it took a few tries to get his front door unlocked. The keyhole was smaller, the key bigger, and Zack was hanging on him like Booth was a slippery, stripper pole.
"I don't want to drink and drive. I am a good citizen," Zack mumbled into Booth's neck. Booth felt his neck get licked.
"Yes you are," Booth said as he dragged him inside and dropped him on his bed.
-
"Get up."
It was Booth's voice making its way through Zack's hangover. It was coming from the bathroom door.
"Oh, no. Did we have sex and I missed it?" Zack asked with alarm.
"No. I'm pretty sure."
"But I'm undressed."
"Only half undressed."
Zack had his shirt off but his pants were still on - an almost sure sign that there was no drunken sex.
"No, you are right. I'm not sore in the right places," Zack finally agreed. He sounded disappointed. "Did we get tattoos?" he asked as he twisted to see his own back.
"What?" Booth asked over running water.
"I thought there might be tattoos."
"No tattoos," Booth said remembering when an old girlfriend had ended up with Celia written on her ass because of her pot induced inability to spell Seeley.
"I think I have a hangover."
"Congratulations." Booth came out of the bathroom, wiping his face.
"People like you have remedies for hangovers," Zack said still sitting in the middle of Booth's bed like he was expecting to get served raw eggs in tomato juice. "Is sex good for a hangover?" Or maybe he was expecting something else. He was going to be disappointed either way.
"Nothing is good for a hangover except to get drunk again."
The cure is the same thing that made you sick, Booth thought. Zack was talking about ethanol or something, and Booth just looked at him sitting cross-legged on the messy sheets. He wanted that cure. He wanted to have Zack until he was sick of him, until he just didn't want him any more. That was it, plow right in, drive right through the worst of it till you get to the other side. Get so much Zack he'd never want Zack again.
Booth got on top of Zack, decided to call in sick. Then he remembered.
"Did you know it was the weekend?"
"Yes."
Booth looked through Zack, considered all that time stretching out in front of them. Hair of the dog weekend.
He unzipped Zack's pants. He pulled on them till they came off. He turned Zack over. He didn't get him too ready. He wanted to give Zack that sore feeling he'd been missing.
-
the end