Shrink

32

a/n: hi guys, i truly apologize for the late late LATE updates, but to be honest, writing became super difficult for me. HOWEVER, I'm gonna try and wrap up this story for you guys, so pls have patience:)
e
***
"Good morning," sighed Sweets, who still had his hand resting comfortably in my hair.
"It's morning? Already?" I asked, yawning away my slumber.
I failed to realize until then that I had fallen asleep. At Sweets'. With my head in his lap.
"Well, not really. Well, sort of," he yawned, letting out a deep sonorous yawn.
"Which is it?"
"3am," he groaned, using his free hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes.
I turned to lie on my back, staring up at him. I didn't really know what to expect from him anymore, but at least now I could stare at him shamelessly.
He gazed down at me and smiled tiredly, the light from the hall illuminating him from behind. His face reminded me of David, the marble statue in Italy. His hair was the same texture, swirling endlessly as the sea, his features rather focused, but his eyes weren't that of a statue considered an 8th wonder of the world. His brown ones were pools of thought and spirit that raced and screamed and boiled over with his thoughts and emotions. At the moment, they were dark and tender. I reached up, my scarred hands tracing the small pink line on his forehead.
"We share so much trauma," I sighed. "and not in the romantic way, we've just gotten really beat up at the same times."
Sweets raised a brow curiously, but remained silent.
"Papillon," he finally uttered, almost too quietly for me to hear.
I sat up and turned to face him.
"Can you make me a promise?" he asked solemnly.
I hesitated, unsure as to what fate I might be racing into head-on by promising whatever he wanted to him.
"Next time one of us is injured can we PLEASE split the cost of ambulance transport, because holy crap, I'm broke now."
I guffawed, and threw a pillow at his face.
***
Despite the mild fall, a frigid winter began to set in, chilly weather forcing me to wear more and more layers to work every day. The city had never looked so clean, brushed white and softened beneath the snow.
I quickly ushered myself into the Jeffersonian, and began to peel off my clothes, sweater after sweater coming off until I was down to my work clothes. Despite having worked at the Jeffersonian for nearly 6 months, I still wore the same grey lab coat. I wasn't upset by this, it simply showed my status as a temporary worker. The word temporary embossed itself into the forefront of my mind, and I felt everyone could see its bold, explicit lettering.
I knotted my hat hair into a bun and strolled out to the platform, sliding my card through the security reader before pinning it back to my lab coat. Everyone turned and watched as I approached, and I inadvertently blushed, ducking my head as I closed the distance between me and the remains.
Doctor Brennan nodded at me, and returned to visually inspecting the bones, brown skin tented over them like wax paper.
"Hey sweetie," Angela said jovially, appearing beside me with a sketchbook and pencil.
"Hey Ange," replied Hodgins, Doctor Brennan and I.
I blushed again as we all paused to consider who she was talking to.
"So who's this?" she chuckled, giving us all a weird look.
"Bricked into a basement wall man," Hodgins smiled, extracting samples from the skin and orifices of the skull.
"Lovely. So it's a man?"
"Prominent mastoid and pubic bones indicate yes. Fusion of the skull indicates the victim was approximately 25," I prattled, indicating the areas I mentioned.
"Mhm. Can I borrow you for a sec, Papillon?" Ange asked, as she took me by the elbow and lead me to her office.
I didn't have time to react as we disappeared around the corner and out of sight before she accosted me.
"So?" she asked, crossing her arms and staring at me expectantly.
"So what?" I asked uncomfortably, holding my arms.
"Are you guys together or not?"
"Um, I'm not sure," I breathed, thinking back on the last few months.
Sweets and I had grown close over time, but since returning from Alaska, we hadn't really spent much time alone together, between our professional duties, our time was limited.
I said as much to Angela.
She raised her brows until they nearly disappeared beneath her hairline. Her mouth was open in the way that it did when she was absolutely going to do something about it.
"Ange," I sighed. "between my studies and his duties to the FBI, we haven't been able to spend much time together."
"Papillon," she sighed back. "it sounds like you're giving yourself excuses. Has he at least called you?"
I shook my head, staring at my shoes.
"Okay Sweetie, go back to work," she smiled, giving me a pitiful look.
"Ange, please don't do anything about it," I turned and asked as I left her office.
I didn't want to admit that I was disappointed too, nor that I was constantly hoping to see him when day after day he never came. It was like the second I wanted him, his obsession with me went away.
I traipsed back to the platform, my mood quashed and lying dead like the corpse on our examination table.
***
After work, I slung my bag over my shoulder, pulling on my boots and coat. We had gained some ground in the wall-man case, but it had begun to chip away at my already-low morale.
I hadn't spent much of the day idle, giving myself enough tasks to never have the time to pause to think of my sore heart.
The dark sky grew heavy with snow clouds, and thick flurries began to waft through the crisp air, accumulating on my lashes as I stood outside the Jeffersonian.
I hadn't seen snow like this since leaving home.
I decided that tonight, I would give myself time to decompress. I dressed down in a tee shirt and shorts, and pulled out a bottle of cheap wine.
After a long few weeks without relaxation, this was exactly what I needed. I wandered around my small apartment, admiring the snow outside and mildly buzzed. The sudden rap on my door startled me, and I sloshed some wine on my white tee shirt. I swore, feeling my cheeks grow warmer in anger.
Who would disturb me at 11pm on a Friday night?