Why
Author: wanderingsmith
April 2006
Summary: Why he did this
Warning: B/B, spoilers for 1x17: the skull in the desert
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I ain't got
no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this.
AN: He makes an excellent cabano boy!! (g) serve me coffee ANY
morning.. and I'm not a morning person! lol
AN2: gracious thanks to Elyssa for her quick beta
Sitting in the cramped quarters of the old DC47's seat, Booth tried to
find a position he could sleep in. Tried to tune out his buzzing
brain. 'Why the heck am I doing this?' the only outward
sign of his mental grumbling was his rolling eyes.
Much as he hated to admit it, even now, he could guess why. Why
he was willing to argue with Cullen about suddenly taking time off when
he was still wrapping up a case. Why he was on a cramped airplane
when he was supposed to be sleeping, on his way to catch another
cramped airplane and then drive out into the desert. Before
breakfast. 'God I'm so whipped.'
He *liked* knowing she trusted him. Almost *needed* to know he
was one of the very few people she would accept help from.
Their partnership was so based on his requesting *her* assistance, even
if it was in the name of justice and the FBI. And she was such a
self-reliant woman, able to do everything.
Except for the fact that she couldn't seem to help disregarding the
need for proper cultural interaction. Although he did feel bad
for mocking her charming skills. He'd been annoyed at Zack,
ticked at having her absence rubbed in and even more annoyed at himself
for missing her so quickly.
He knew she could ooze charm when she wanted to, or just didn't think
about what she was doing. And she did have a beautiful
smile when she relaxed and let herself have fun with him. He
wondered sometimes if she realized just how deliberately he worked to
make that smile appear.
He grunted at the direction his rambling thoughts were taking, trying
to turn his body sideways in the hopes of finally falling asleep.
All of which was why he'd known, even as he played Devil's advocate,
that he'd come, and do whatever he needed to do to make things right
for her.
Her discomfort asking for his help, so typical of his Bones when
she spoke of anything other than, well, bones, had sealed his
fate. Pretty much the moment she'd said that hesitant, heartfelt
'please', he'd known he was done for. Saying 'no' to this woman
had never been easy; these days he even had to argue with *himself*,
instead of just with her.
And he did love the idea that she assumed he could fix
everything. 'Great, now I'm repeating myself.'
He smirked to himself as he remembered the rest of that
conversation. 'Get federal on his ass.', that had been a kick;
another reason he lo.. LIKED that woman was just how adorable she was
when she did use idioms.
He wondered, finally getting sleepy, if she'd get a reference to riding
a little mule instead of a charger... Better not chance it,
Angela would be bound to explain it to her.
AN3: I originally wrote
'a donkey instead of a charger'... but can't remember why.. anybody
know? lol. anyhow, the mule was a mental salute to Romancing the Stone
AN4: many many thanks to Laurie for reminding me: I was refering,
in some mental process that has not yet returned to me, to Booth as Don
Quixote.. she called on him to the rescue... Angela called him a
knight.. <sigh> what was therest of the thought now.... evil evil
memory
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