Everything is Logic Except This
She finally reached the front door of the London apartment the Jeffersonian had rented for her. As soon as she set foot in the cold and dark living room, she threw her bag on the coffee table – or was it a tea table here?- and watched it fall off, bringing the potpourri bowl with it in a big crash. And she let herself fall back on the couch. The stupid, uncomfortable, leather couch. She didn't care about the potpourri. She didn't care about the fact that all the content of her bag was spread across the living room's hardwood floor.
With a long sigh, she massaged her temples. She had never been so exhausted in her whole life. This entire past week, as soon as she got out of bed, she felt tired. She was totally drained. Even the remains she was working on couldn't take her mind off this mess. She felt as if she was drowning.
She had jumped on the opportunity to come to London. And for once, she was aware of the fact that she was running away. Running from her work, her life. Running from stupid Sweets who had provoked them, pushed them too far with his illogical experiments. Running from Cam, who was snappier than ever, and with whom Brennan couldn't help but argue all the time. Running from Angela, who was unknowingly teaching her how to think more like a woman and less like a doctor. Running from Hodgins who was sulking, mad at the world since Zack... Running away from the Jeffersonian building which had always been her safe haven with its quiet, empty and soothing hallways, but which was now haunted by Zack's ghost. Running away from those stupid interns, those wannabes who would never be good enough. Running away from him. Her partner.
This whole thing was completely irrational. And the more she thought about it, the worst it got. Her eyes closed, she almost laughed at herself when she remembered she had even turned to psychology to try and make sense out of it all. This was all Angela's fault. She had coerced her into spending an evening watching all those stupid Sex and the City episodes...
"Why are we watching this again?" Brennan asked as the oldest of the girl friends was going at it yet again on Angela's huge TV screen.
"I thought you'd find this interesting. From an anthropological point of view."
Brennan couldn't help but hold back a smile. "How old is the guy Tabatha's with?"
"Wrong show, sweetie. That's Samantha. Tabatha's two years old and she does magic with her nose."
Brennan shrugged and pointed at the screen. "He can't be more than 21 years old."
"I don't know how she does it."
"Oh, it's easy, trust me. You lift one leg up while holding on to something and you bend you knee while reaching..."
Brennan laughed again. The wine was definitely getting to her. "No! I mean... I've never been attracted to guys 20 years younger than me..."
"That's because you're 33... You do the math."
Brennan frowned, trying to calculate. "Oh..."
Angela patted her friend on the knee.
"Yeah. Stop thinking, just watch the episode," Angela ordered, smirking.
Brennan turned back to the TV. And she smiled to herself. She had to have Booth watch this. Maybe he had watched it before. He had so many guilty pleasures he didn't want to talk about... Angela started talking again while Brennan's thoughts wandered further.
"You've dated younger guys before, haven't you?" Angela asked.
Sober Brennan would not have been able to understand her own train of thoughts, but her tipsy-self felt she had to tell someone. Finally let it out. Admit it aloud.
"I think I'm attracted to Booth."
That came out of nowhere... Angela thought, trying not to squee, as she kept staring at the screen, like she hadn't really heard the huge confession.
Brennan felt a pinch of disappointment. She had expected her friend to start cheering, to jump up and down on the couch, to do something. But all Angela said was,
"He's 5 years older than you. We're talking about younger guys here."
Brennan found the remote in the couch cushions and hit pause.
"Ange, did you hear me? I said I'm attracted to Booth."
Angela raised an eyebrow.
"You said you thought you were. You're sure now?"
Brennan frowned and held back a little. She was feeling as though she had set foot on a land mine.
"You think this is news, Bren? I told you that 2, no, 3 years ago. I'm glad you finally put it into words, though. Makes it more real, doesn't it?"
"But... How could you... I mean, when have I ever done or say anything that gave you that impression?"
"Are you kidding?" Angela said. Seeing how lost Brennan really looked, she sat up more comfortably. This might take a while.
Brennan took a deep breath and tried to understand.
"I've always been professional. I've never... Do you think he knows?" Her voice cracked. She was scared now.
"You would barge into his place naked and he would still remain clueless."
Right. Because he doesn't think of me that way. Ever. He's made that clear a million times already. Feeling the hinge of her stomach twisting sorely, she blamed the alcohol, turned back to the TV and pressed play.
"Whoa! This conversation is not over, Brennan," Angela said.
Brennan felt the urge to change the subject. But she was so nervous of finally talking about this out loud that she couldn't find anything else to say. So she got up and fled to the kitchen.
"Do you have anything to eat?" she said.
"I've waited long enough to have this conversation. You're not changing the subject," Angela followed her.
Brennan stopped. Her head was spinning. Or was it the room? She leaned against the wall.
"It's no big deal, Ange," she defended herself. "He's alpha..."
"Aw, don't give me that alpha-male, hormonal crap. Everyone can see you two are eating the walls not to jump each other."
Brennan laughed out loud at the image.
"That's not true! We're not..."
"Look. You know when you watch Sex and the City, you root for Carrie and Mr. Big? Because you see this huge thing between them?"
Brennan shook her head.
"Yeah, but that's because of music and camera angles. That's viewer manipulation. It's all about editing."
Angela grabbed her friend by the shoulders.
"When we watch you and Booth, that's exactly what we see. No editing."
You see it from me or from him too? she burned to ask. But she kept quiet, pursing her lips tightly together and looking directly into Angela's eyes.
"You watch Booth and me? Why?" she asked, sounding almost like a little girl.
"The tension, honey. You can't tell me you don't feel the tension. At least sometimes."
"You can't feel tension. You can feel tense, but there's no way to measure something..."
The look on Angela's face felt like a warning. So Brennan capitulated.
"There are times when... we're both silent. And we kind of... stare at each other. I mostly stare back because I want to know what he's thinking. But it can get quite... uneasy to hold his gaze. Is that... tension?"
Angela nodded, proud of her. "Now, next time you two have a moment, I want you to seize the day."
Sensing an I-don't-know-what-that-means, Angela explained. "You have to take a chance. And kiss him."
"Oh, no!" Brennan interjected, raising a hand. "It gets way too weird when we kiss..." She could smash her own head into the wall. Why did she have to say that?
Angela's eyes widened, her mouth dropped open. "Excuse me?"
Brennan would not be able to get out of this one. She cringed.
"It was one time!" she specified.
Brennan watched her friend put both hands in front of her mouth and she heard some muffled "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!"
"It was nothing! It was only mistletoe," she continued, her eyes averting to the end of the hallway. If only she could pull a fire alarm or something. Like that one time in school, when Russ knew she had fallen asleep before finishing studying for the most important biology exam of the semester. He had gotten her out of it that way.
Angela's head spun up.
"Mistletoe?!" she cried out. "You kissed around Christmas and didn't tell me?"
"It was not a real kiss. Well, it was technically, but... We were blackmailed into it. He didn't want to."
"He didn't want to? So you..."
"WE. I mean we didn't want to."
"You're confusing me."
"Who forced you to kiss under the mistletoe?"
"Do you have her home address?"
Confused, Brennan said, "No, why?"
"I have to send that woman some awesome flowers." Angela was hyper now. "Did you use tongue? Oh! Was it sloppy and intense? Of course it was, otherwise, you wouldn't have mentioned it if it had been only a peck. Who kissed whom?"
"Ange! " Brennan hid her face in her palms.
"Oh my God. I can't believe this. I need another drink."
Angela got to the fridge and opened another bottle of wine. "Talk. Now. Details." She took a gulp directly from the bottle.
"Angela, I don't think that's a good idea."
"Never mind and answer me."
"Fine," Brennan gave up, and sat at the kitchen table. "What was the question again?"
"Who kissed whom?"
It had been a while since Brennan had thought about it in details. She was about to lick her dry lips, but she was afraid Angela would take it as a sign of some sort.
"I think I did. Caroline had to push him towards me. He really didn't want to. So I had to kiss him first."
Angela thanked God. This is way too good. She nodded for her friend to continue.
"That's it," Brennan concluded.
"That's far from it, Bren. When I say 'details', I mean 'details'."
Brennan shook her head. "Like what?"
"Were you nervous?"
"Not at all," Brennan answered right away. "Why would I have been nervous?"
But Angela didn't buy it.
"Come on!" she insisted. "We're talking about Booth here."
Did she really have to repeat his name every 5 seconds? Sighing again, Brennan folded her arms on the table and rested her head on them.
"Fine. I was nervous. Only because he was too. Nervous, I mean. I could tell because he chuckled a lot and he was fidgeting."
"What was it like?" Angela pressed her.
Just thinking about it made Brennan's stomach flutter. She ignored the feeling and got up on her feet.
"Do we have to talk about this now? We haven't reached the episode you wanted me to see."
"We don't have to talk about it now. But if we don't, I will harass you every day for the rest of your life until you tell me what I want to hear. So I suggest you say it all right now and we won't have to talk about this ever again," Angela answered. As if.
"Fine," she said, sitting back down. She reached for the bottle of wine. Maybe one big sip would make this easier. But she was way too self aware. She thought if she drank right now, she would show Angela how affected she was by this conversation. And she really wanted to look annoyed. Not flustered. So she played with the sticker on the bottle instead.
"I kind of grabbed him. And he surprised me..."
"He... used his tongue."
Brennan interrupted her friend before she could scream in delight.
"I'm sure it was a reflex."
"Did you get butterflies?"
She didn't answer but her cheeks flushed and betrayed her.
"I wish I could have seen this..." Angela muttered to herself.
Brennan opened her mouth, details were now flowing through her brain. She really wanted to forget she was an adult and just dish like a school girl. But she stopped herself. Angela noticed it.
"You can tell me. I'm your best friend, I won't tell anyone."
"You'll tell Hodgins. I know you."
"No I won't. This is girl talk. It's sacred."
"It was a fake kiss but I..." Her mind was playing the kiss in repeat now. She snapped out of it. "I can't talk about it anymore. Please?"
Hearing her friend begging her, Angela smiled faintly, understanding. But she had to ask,
"I'm sure you two never talked about this? You probably ignore it even ever happened."
They slipped into silence for a while. Brennan wished she had never said all this out loud. Angela was right. Telling someone made it more real. She would never be able to stop thinking about him that way now. And she couldn't let this happen. This had to stop. She needed help. And the only person she knew who could help was Sweets. She would have to turn to psychology, even if it killed her, and hope no one would ever know. Especially not Booth.