The Secret Of Jaime Sommers: Angela/Tempe

Title: The Secret Of Jaime Sommers
Author: Lostakasha
Pairing: Angela/Brennan
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: No.
A/N: Immediately follows The Headless Witch In The Woods

Summary: Tempe and Angela have a chat after she dates yet another perp. With girl kissage.



The Secret Of Jaime Sommers

Cheek to knee, face turned toward the low window, arms clasped tight around her shins.

Sixteen and lost.

Nearly twice that and lauded, esteemed and sorely pissed.

Warm, dewy lips skimmed the nape of her neck as familiar arms pulled her back into rest.

“Why does it always come as such a shock?” Temperance asked, turning her face to rest against Angela’s collarbone. “I’m so tired of taking one step forward and two steps back.”

“We swim against the tide, Bren. It’s our fate.”

Temperance pushed herself forward and sat up straight to force Angela to loosen her hold. “Stupidity’s not fated. It’s just … stupid.”

“That’s healthy,” Angela laughed, looping her arms around Brennan’s shoulders once more. She kissed the long, sharp slope of Brennan’s jaw. “Healthy, and very true.”

This time, Brennan pushed back, elbows out, and stood.

“Angela, what about Jack?”

She crossed the living room and leaned against the bookshelf by the window, arms wrapped tightly over her breasts, her sweater pulled straightjacket tight as if to buffer herself against the cold.

Chocolate drop eyes rolled to white and back, then narrowed, finding their target. “What about Jack? I left him happy. He still doesn’t have full range of motion in his left leg.”

“Which justifies you leaving him to come over here for comfort sex?”

“No. Kinda. No. It was just an observation. There’s no ‘what about Jack’ to be considered here, sweetie. We have an understanding.” Angela rose and took her place by Brennan’s side. “Besides, if he loves me, he’ll deal with who I am, just like I deal with who he is.”

Brennan’s eyes swam, fresh with hurt. “He does. Love you. He’s stupid in love with you, Ange. Over the moon is what he said.”

“Honey, he’s like every other boy on the planet. Gets all swoony and romantic and dreamy-eyed when he can’t have the woman of his dreams, and then when he can he gets morose and bitter. The moon was built for cows to jump, not for blue-eyed boys who have perpetual woodies to leap over.”

“Is he morose and bitter already?” Temperance wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “His leg isn’t fully healed yet.”

“Well, no. He’s endearing and sweet and moonstruck. Basically polished dull by love,” she said, resting her head on Brennan’s shoulder. “All that funky bitterness and snark? That ‘BushCo killed Ann Richards’ tangential edginess? I think I’ve fucked it out of him,” she sighed mournfully.

“Technically, Ange, it’s not possible to…”

“I know, honey. But…” She lifted her head and frowned, then shrugged hard. “He’s changing for me and that’s always… always the big, bad signal of wrongness to come.”

“So what you’re saying is that I have to worry about my relationship with Booth, too. That it’s not bad enough that I dated another killer – that there’s wrong to come with him, too?”

“Okay. Maybe I don’t miss the tangential thinking all that much. What?”

Brennan moved back to the couch and sat with her knees tucked beneath her.

“I’m so bad at this, Angela. I think I’m reading him. I think we’re close. Partners. That there’s nothing we can’t say to each other. And … how long have you known that he’s in a relationship with Cam?”

Angela made a sound that fell somewhere between a growl and a groan, and joined Tempe on the couch, swinging her feet into her lap.

“A few weeks. It’s not important.”

“It is. It underscores my complete incapacity for relationship building. I trusted Booth with things, private, personal things, and now I know he didn’t trust me the same way. I’ve told him anything he’s ever wanted to know about my sex life.”

“Excuse me?” Angela pulled her feet back and sat up. “What has he wanted to know?”

“Nothing explicit,” she sniffed. "He knows that I’m a fully actualized sexual being, innately bisexual, just like he is…”

“Holy shit. Seeley Booth? Our ‘don’t stand so close to me’ Seeley Booth? How long have you known that?”

“The human fetus is bisexual…”

Angela gripped Tempe’s arm, making her wince. “Wait, no, no, don’t give me that. It’s not Jack, is it? Tell me he didn’t screw Jack. Zack, I can handle, but there’s no way I can deal with a Federal Agent fucking a conspiracy theory-hunting billionaire with a fabric fetish.”

“I didn’t say that,” Temperance huffed, pulling away. “Angela, I was making an anthropological and biological statement. Other than Rebecca and Cam, I have no idea who he’s slept with. Fabric fetish?”

Passing her hand across her eyes, Angela leaned back into the couch cushions. “Silk, satin, wool, billiard cloth, pillow ticking. That boy is a walking catalog of tactile perversity. He gets hard watching Project Runway for the bolts of cloth.” She peered at Brennan, then leaned in until she was against her side, and circled her waist in the curve of her arm. “He’s a freak. And I think I love him, I do. But we have secrets, Bren. Lots of them. We have to. What good is it to know every single thing about a person? What’s left then but disappointment and boredom?”

“You know everything about me,” Brennan said softly, pressing her lips to Angela’s throat. “And you love me.”

“This is true.” Angela sought Brennan’s mouth and sank into a long, deep kiss. “Yes, I do,” she sighed, breaking the kiss. “But we’re different. I think we may actually be bionic.”

“Oh, you’re going to do the ‘stronger, faster, better’ speech,” Temperance laughed. “I like that. And ‘wax on, wax off’, too.”

Angela kissed her for good measure and took her hand as she stood. “We have bionic hearts,” she said. “They’ll always get us through.”

end