Bones Redux - Chapter 4, Yanks in the UK Pts 1 & 2
previous installments in my archives...
"You don't laugh during sex."
Booth's attention was more focused on the car. He had to ask her to repeat it twice and even then, he didn't get it.
"Yes I do."
"Cite an occasion," she demanded.
"You're doing this now?" Now being stuck in traffic.
"It's an issue that concerns me."
It concerned Booth too. The whole time the worked the Heather Miller case - and then the subsequent Ian Wexler case - the words sat in the back of his mind.
You don't laugh during sex.
It was, as Bones would say, a simple, logical deduction. You laugh when you have fun. She wanted to have fun. Ergo, she did not want what they had to be serious. And yet...she was very clear with Wexler that he had no chance and that Booth was the reason why. And every time they met up with Inspector Pritchard, Bones would make an offhand comment about the number of people who had died trying to climb Mount Everest, the seemingly random remarks always accompanied by a possessive hand on Booth's arm and a fierce glare at Pritch.
It seemed important to Booth that this issue be resolved before they left England. So that it could be left in England. Bones would find that kind of symbolism unnecessarily romantic, but inescapably Booth.
So, in the pub, in their last hour before leaving for the airport, he said it.
"Is that all you want? Someone to laugh with?"
She frowned, and tapped her pint glass. "If I do, is that wrong?"
"No."
"But." She was only oblivious when it was to her advantage; she knew there was a but.
"I do laugh during sex but...that's just...part of my repertoire, you know?"
"I do know." She flashed him a wicked grin nudged him under the table.
"And you know that's not all."
Her smile froze. "Yes," she looked into her glass again. "I know."
They drank in silence for a few moments, but it wasn't uncomfortable, just contemplative. Finally, she spoke.
"Angela and Hodgins eloped."
"Oh?" He didn't quite understand the connection, unless this was an extremely roundabout proposal, which he doubted.
"Yes. She's been calling me throughout the case. They found her husband and he agreed to the divorce. There was something about Cam taking him to the airport, but I admit I wasn't really paying attention - Angela talks very quickly when she's excited. Anyway, once the divorce was final, she and Hodgins decided to stop arguing about the details and just do it."
"Well, good for them." He held up his glass for toast. "To Hodgins and Angela."
They clinked glasses.
"I guess I should get them something at the airport gift shop," Booth added.
"I think it's a good idea."
"A gift? You wanna go in half?"
"No, not the gift, I mean what Angela and Hodgins decided."
Booth tightened his grip on the glass; she could not possibly be suggesting they elope. Not only was it inconceivable that she would suggest such a thing, he wasn't really sure how he would answer. Not wanting a casual fling and wanting to get married are two very different things.
"To stop worrying about the details and just follow their instincts," she clarified.
Booth relaxed his hold on the glass. "Oh. Well that makes sense."
"You agree?"
"Yeah."
"Good. I have a present for you."
He was going to get whiplash from her changes of subject. "Would I not have gotten it if I didn't agree?"
"Of course you would have -- oh, you're joking."
She presented him with a child's toy medal and, using a swizzle stick, dubbed him Sir Seeley.
"It really is appropriate," she said. "The motto of the medieval knight was 'Protect the weak, defenseless and helpless, and fight for the general welfare of all.' That's you."
"Well...." Booth somehow managed to preen and blush at the same time. "Thank you, Lady Temperance."
"Hmmm..."
"What?"
"I'd rather be Queen."
Booth drained his glass before responding. "If we stayed another night, you could be Queen."
She was tempted. "We never did see the bridge open."
"Oh I'll get your bridge open."
"Booth!" She nearly spat out her beer.
"I made you laugh, didn't I?"
"Yes, I'm very impressed. I've never had anyone ply me with architecturally-themed double entendres."
"Dirty talk, Bones, it's dirty talk. We have had this conversation before."
"Are you defying the Queen?"
Booth fished in his pocket for a few pound coins and tossed them on the bar. "No fair, you can't start that 'til we get back to the hotel." He stood up.
"I think you have to walk ten paces behind me," said Brennan, also rising.
"Bones..."
"I should have said us. You must walk ten paces behind us." She glided toward the exit, the imperial demeanor coming all too easily for her.
"Bones."
"Your Highness will do."
"You don't laugh during sex."
Booth's attention was more focused on the car. He had to ask her to repeat it twice and even then, he didn't get it.
"Yes I do."
"Cite an occasion," she demanded.
"You're doing this now?" Now being stuck in traffic.
"It's an issue that concerns me."
It concerned Booth too. The whole time the worked the Heather Miller case - and then the subsequent Ian Wexler case - the words sat in the back of his mind.
You don't laugh during sex.
It was, as Bones would say, a simple, logical deduction. You laugh when you have fun. She wanted to have fun. Ergo, she did not want what they had to be serious. And yet...she was very clear with Wexler that he had no chance and that Booth was the reason why. And every time they met up with Inspector Pritchard, Bones would make an offhand comment about the number of people who had died trying to climb Mount Everest, the seemingly random remarks always accompanied by a possessive hand on Booth's arm and a fierce glare at Pritch.
It seemed important to Booth that this issue be resolved before they left England. So that it could be left in England. Bones would find that kind of symbolism unnecessarily romantic, but inescapably Booth.
So, in the pub, in their last hour before leaving for the airport, he said it.
"Is that all you want? Someone to laugh with?"
She frowned, and tapped her pint glass. "If I do, is that wrong?"
"No."
"But." She was only oblivious when it was to her advantage; she knew there was a but.
"I do laugh during sex but...that's just...part of my repertoire, you know?"
"I do know." She flashed him a wicked grin nudged him under the table.
"And you know that's not all."
Her smile froze. "Yes," she looked into her glass again. "I know."
They drank in silence for a few moments, but it wasn't uncomfortable, just contemplative. Finally, she spoke.
"Angela and Hodgins eloped."
"Oh?" He didn't quite understand the connection, unless this was an extremely roundabout proposal, which he doubted.
"Yes. She's been calling me throughout the case. They found her husband and he agreed to the divorce. There was something about Cam taking him to the airport, but I admit I wasn't really paying attention - Angela talks very quickly when she's excited. Anyway, once the divorce was final, she and Hodgins decided to stop arguing about the details and just do it."
"Well, good for them." He held up his glass for toast. "To Hodgins and Angela."
They clinked glasses.
"I guess I should get them something at the airport gift shop," Booth added.
"I think it's a good idea."
"A gift? You wanna go in half?"
"No, not the gift, I mean what Angela and Hodgins decided."
Booth tightened his grip on the glass; she could not possibly be suggesting they elope. Not only was it inconceivable that she would suggest such a thing, he wasn't really sure how he would answer. Not wanting a casual fling and wanting to get married are two very different things.
"To stop worrying about the details and just follow their instincts," she clarified.
Booth relaxed his hold on the glass. "Oh. Well that makes sense."
"You agree?"
"Yeah."
"Good. I have a present for you."
He was going to get whiplash from her changes of subject. "Would I not have gotten it if I didn't agree?"
"Of course you would have -- oh, you're joking."
She presented him with a child's toy medal and, using a swizzle stick, dubbed him Sir Seeley.
"It really is appropriate," she said. "The motto of the medieval knight was 'Protect the weak, defenseless and helpless, and fight for the general welfare of all.' That's you."
"Well...." Booth somehow managed to preen and blush at the same time. "Thank you, Lady Temperance."
"Hmmm..."
"What?"
"I'd rather be Queen."
Booth drained his glass before responding. "If we stayed another night, you could be Queen."
She was tempted. "We never did see the bridge open."
"Oh I'll get your bridge open."
"Booth!" She nearly spat out her beer.
"I made you laugh, didn't I?"
"Yes, I'm very impressed. I've never had anyone ply me with architecturally-themed double entendres."
"Dirty talk, Bones, it's dirty talk. We have had this conversation before."
"Are you defying the Queen?"
Booth fished in his pocket for a few pound coins and tossed them on the bar. "No fair, you can't start that 'til we get back to the hotel." He stood up.
"I think you have to walk ten paces behind me," said Brennan, also rising.
"Bones..."
"I should have said us. You must walk ten paces behind us." She glided toward the exit, the imperial demeanor coming all too easily for her.
"Bones."
"Your Highness will do."