(no subject)

[fahye]

*looks at to-do list*

Oh, right, now my brain decides it wants to tell stories.

The day the availability of my writing ability lines up with the availability of my free time, I will throw a fucking parade.

Hmph.

The first ten people to leave drabble requests may get something written for them when I've listened to these lecture recordings and typed up notes. Fandoms I'm currently feeling creatively inclined towards are Bones, Avatar, Naruto and...probably Iron Man. You could try me with Doctor Who/Torchwood or BSG, but I'm massively behind on all of them. Or you could just throw a random prompt up there and then bat your eyes hopefully -- you know me, I'm not very good at turning down challenges.

Comments

[fahye.livejournal.com]

"So you see," Booth said, warming to his subject, "we've decided that due to the fact that we have proper grown-up jobs, not that you'd know anything about that, heh, we'll still come to your little sessions, but we won't be doing those assignment things in between. Too busy. Sorry."

Dr Lance Sweets tapped one of Brennan's pens against his lips, trying not to laugh; Booth always retreated behind the age difference when he was uncomfortable, and Brennan had that expression that she always got when she was trying to look supportive of someone else's argument, despite the fact that she much preferred to do her own arguing.

"Right," she said finally, abruptly. "Because...well, it's a bit silly, isn't it? Getting homework for our partnership?" A brief, not-quite-casual laugh.

He let the pause go on just long enough that Booth's body language settled into smug satisfaction, and Brennan's face returned to normal. Then he smiled. "It wasn't the negatives, was it? It was the positives that you guys had trouble with."

Brennan was a terrible, terrible liar and even worse at covering surprise. She frowned. "What? No, we -- what?"

"Didn't you hear what we said, Sweets?"

"Oh, very clearly." He leaned forward, still smiling. "Obviously, you had so much trouble with the last assignment I set you that you talked each other into the conviction that the problem was with my 'homework' instead of with you. I'm right, aren't I?"

Booth snorted softly through his nose and looked away; that was answer enough from him. Brennan frowned even more deeply and fixed him with one of her most terrifyingly anthropological looks, the one that still made him want to hide behind something nice and thick, like the DSM-IV. But he knew he was right, and so he looked right back at her.

"Like I said, it wasn't the negatives, was it? I'm sure you two would do just fine at coming up with a list of three faults that the other person has."

"Of course." Brennan pushed back some hair and looked impatient. "He's impulsive, and flippant at inappropriate times, and too stubborn to admit when he's wrong."

"Agent Booth?"

"Pedantic, tactless...stubborn," Booth reeled off, looking snappish. "What?"

"Right. So I am forced to conclude that the enormous problem that led you to develop such an extravagant defence mechanism was that you can't think of a single good thing to say about each other, let alone three good things." He lifted his eyes and waited for Brennan to leap, as she always would in the presence of faulty assumptions. She was tough, but she was easy to lead.

Sure enough -- "No! No, I mean...Booth has a lot of good qualities." She shot a glance at him, and it collided with his glance at her, and Lance bit his tongue against the unprofessional urge to tell them about the people he'd seen and talked to, all the people whose relationships were destructive or dull or just anything less than this raw perfection that Agent Seeley Booth and Dr Temperence Brennan had somehow wrought between them. He wanted to tell them how lucky they were. But that wasn't his job; not yet.

"But?" he prompted.

"But your assignment is stupid. It's unreasonable to expect me to be succinct about -- about such subjective personal opinions. Three words? Three qualities? No. The picture conveyed wouldn't be accurate." She looked relieved, back on familiar ground.

"Agent Booth? Is that how you feel?"

"I -- yeah. Yeah." Booth snuck another look at his partner, a look that was half uncertain, half warm and possessive. "I'm not very good at describing, and Bones is -- well, she's a hell of a lot more than three words."

"Still." He put his hands on the desk and stood up. "I'd like you to try. Not in front of me, that's okay, but with each other. Right now. We'll discuss it next session."

The almost-panic that flew into Brennan's face told him that he was right; that this was what the other half of her defences were directed at.

"Uh," she said.

"Look --" Booth said.

Lance tried not to grin too widely as he left the office.