Fit as a Fiddle (Bones; M)

[Spoo]

I'm basically forever!salty that we finally had an official "Sick" episode of Bones, aaaand Booth didn't catch ANYTHING. Nevermind the fact that he lives with Brennan, took care of her, and was in VERY close proximity of her coughs and sneezes (see what I mean about being salty? ). 

Because of this unacceptable (AND VERY FRUSTRATING) turn of events, I've decided to take matters into my own hands and give Booth what he rightfully deserv—uhh, I mean type up a fic to make myself feel better.  ()  This takes place directly after 11x17, "The Secret in the Service". I was originally going to go with the title "Take THAT, Bones Writers", buuut it seemed like a bit much~

Anywho, enjoy!   

- - -

 

Fit as a Fiddle

by Spoo

 

Aubrey was three bites into his overstuffed reuben when an abrupt sneeze almost had him choking on a mouthful of corned beef and sauerkraut. He swallowed swiftly and reached for his napkin to clean up what he’d just about spit out. Then, glancing across the table, he found his companion hunched off to the side with his face burrowed in a pair of steepled hands. 

“Gesundheit,” he offered, for what felt like the tenth time since they’d sat down for lunch. “You feeling okay there, Booth?”

He knew that Booth suffered from a handful of allergies, but given that they’d been inside the diner for a while and there was nothing currently in bloom outside, well…it led Aubrey to wonder if a certain Special Agent was feeling a tad under the weather. It sure made sense and all, considering that Dr. Brennan had just gotten over something, but he wasn’t about to throw that out there. Not yet, anyway. 

Booth came up from his hands with a hard sniff that was less productive than he’d hoped; he met Aubrey’s gaze with a fleeting one before he went back to his own plate of food, which, admittedly, remained mostly untouched. 

“I’m fine,” he emphasized, as though he were convincing himself rather than Aubrey. “Probably just allergies.” 

“Yeah, definitely allergies,” Aubrey agreed, having had a feeling that Booth would not only shrug off his question, but also suggest a solution that didn’t quite add up. “They always seem to act up right after someone’s been sick…” 

Whoops. So much for not throwing it out there. 

Even though Booth was feeling sluggish and all-around lousy, he caught wind of Aubrey’s unspoken implication and instantly protested. “Hey, I’m not sick. That’s not what’s going on here.” 

“Oh, of course not,” Aubrey played along as he reached for the basket of sweet potato fries that sat between them. He dunked the end of one into a splattered squirt of mayo and then plopped it into his mouth. “You never get sick. Not even after your wife had a cold last week.” 

“Look, it’s just a coincidence, okay?” Booth remarked, defensive. He took a sip of his coffee in what he hoped was a casual act when in reality it was to soothe the ache in his throat he’d went to bed with the night before. Not that Aubrey needed to know that part. “I’m fit as a fhh—f-fiddle.”

A fiddle, Aubrey amusingly watched, who was about to sneeze again in three…two…one… 

“EHR’RFFSCHHhhh’oo!” 

“Yup. Fittest fiddle I’ve ever seen, hands down. Can you pass the salt?” 

 

- - - 

 

Booth was glad that Aubrey didn’t bring up his deteriorating health for the rest of the afternoon, just like he was glad that the man wasn’t physically with him when he eventually staggered into his house later that evening. He’d called his workday quits earlier than usual - for obvious reasons at that point - and instead of heading over to the lab to wait on Bones to wrap things up on her end, he’d gone straight for homebase.

He couldn’t decide what was worse as he unceremoniously flopped onto the couch like a sack of potatoes: His aching sinuses, his stuffy ears, or the ticklish drip in the back of his throat. If all of that wasn’t crummy enough, then breathing through his nose -  a basic, habitual thing - was now a laughable ‘yeah right, buddy’. 

And speaking of the stubborn thing, his nose was ridiculously sore from constant applications of old Dunkin Donuts napkins that had been squirreled away in his glove compartment, which explained the wince he gave into when he pressed the side of his thumb below his chapped nostrils. Yeahhhh, ow. That didn’t feel so great.

For a brief, horrible second he actually considered making some of Bones’ anise tea, but then he remembered the unappetizing stench the tea gave off and decided that he must have been delirious for even considering it. He was better off dying on the couch than drinking that stuff. 

At least the kiddos were taken care of for the night, Booth thought in the midst of his misery. He loved his kids as much as the next protective papa bear, but it was a blessing that Angela and Hodgins had taken Hank and Christine for the weekend. Thank God for small miracles. 

Booth had just kicked off his shoes when the full brunt of exhaustion hit him like a truck. It was easy enough to stumble upstairs and into his bed, but man...the couch was just so comfortable. Comfortable and inviting. Inviting and soft. Soft and cozy. He’d get up to bed eventually, but for now he planned on closing his eyes for a second. 

In reality, a ‘second’ must have lasted a lot longer, because when Booth roused sometime later it wasn’t because he’d woken on his own, but rather because a hand was now settling over the hot expanse of his forehead. 

The soldier in him was ready to fly into action in response to the sudden contact, but the familiarity of the touch revealed that it wasn’t an enemy or someone that needed to be taken out. No, he knew the hand front to back, just as he knew the person it belonged to. 

But wait a minute. What was she doing home so early? 

A groan escaped Booth before his eyes could open, and when they did it was to the foggy sight of his wife leaning over him. 

“…Bones?” He was forced to clear his throat when his voice sounded a little rough around the edges, but even that didn’t really improve the unmistakable hoarseness that now accompanied his words. “What time is it?”

“Eleven-thirty,” Brennan replied, though she didn’t bother elaborating beyond that. “Why didn’t you tell me you came home early, Booth? Or that you’re sick?” 

For as cold, calculating, and seemingly emotionless as others often perceived her to be, she held no qualms about displaying concern or affection when it came to those who mattered most to her. This included her partner, who looked, and sounded, unwell.

Brennan had incorrectly assumed that the onset of his symptoms would coincide with her own, yet it was clear now that his incubation stage began a few days after hers.

In spite of all evidence working against him, Booth refused to throw in the towel. “Sick? Me? Nahhh. I’m fit as a fiddle. I just fell asleep on the couch when I get home.” 

As unfamiliar as she was with the psychology of one’s behavior, Brennan knew that Booth was lying to her. Like many males of their society, he was insistent on masking any signs of weakness in fear of wounding his masculinity and pride. In Booth’s specific case, this unfailingly applied when he was ill. 

“The elevated temperature of your skin suggests a fever, just as the nasal discharge below your nostrils implies inflammation of the interior tissues,” Brennan stated. “This would also account for the hoarseness of your voice, as well as bronchial congestion.” 

Once upon a time there might have been a language barrier between them, but luckily Booth’s prowess in ‘Bones-a-nese’ had grown impressively fluent over the years. “I’m a little warm, my nose is running, I have a frog in my throat, and I sound rough,” he waved off. “That doesn’t mean that I’m sick, Bones. It just means that I…” 

…have really bad timing, he thought in frustration as an eye-watering tickle flared to life in his nose. Before he could fight it off, let alone state what was obviously about to happen, he was snapping upright in a violent sneeze that tore through him. 

“EHR’RFSSCHHhhh’uh!” 

He’d managed to both get a hand up to clamp over his mouth and avoid cracking he and Bones’ skulls together, which was always a good thing in Booth’s book. He blinked his wet eyes open to find Bones looking at him; there was a distinct ‘you were saying?’ in her expression, which had his resolve finally cracking. 

“Alright,” he snuffled, shrugging a shoulder. “So I have the sniffles.” 

“‘The sniffles’ isn’t an actual illness,” Brennan corrected, ever logical. “What you have is an upper respiratory inflection, most likely caused by a similar strain of the virus I had last week.” Leaving him for a moment, she went off to fetch the tissue box that sat on the kitchen counter. She returned a beat later and handed it to him knowingly. “Here. You're about to sneeze again.” 

Booth made a face that was equal parts confused, equal parts disturbed. “How do you know I’m going to sneeze again?”

“You always sneeze twice in a timespan of two minutes when you’re sick,” she told him, as if such unusual information were common knowledge and it was preposterous that he himself didn't know. 

“Okay. I don’t know whether to be flattered or creeped out that you know my snhh—HHF’FFRSCHHHH’oo!” Booth ducked into a handful of tissues that he’d collected and pressed to his face at the last possible second. “…ughhn, my sneezing patterns,” he finished belatedly, blowing his nose.  

“My profession does require strict observation of crucial details,” Brennan informed as Booth, abandoning his 'tough guy' front, slumped into her tiredly. She wrapped an arm around him and guided them both backward, so that they were leaning into the couch. 

Now that he wasn’t bothering to put on a show, Booth didn’t hesitate to keep his coughs and complaints to himself. There was a snowball’s chance in hell that he was going into the office the next morning; he’d deal with Aubrey’s smug looks when he didn’t feel like his head was going to simultaneously overflow and explode. 

“You were right, Bones,” he sighed, crumpling his used tissues in a fist. “I’m sick.” 

“Of course I was right,” Brennan said, sans modesty or tact. “I’m rarely, if ever, wrong. Especially when it comes to you.” It was here that she pressed a lingering and heartfelt kiss into his warm temple - one that earned a gravely hum of pleasure from Booth - and began stroking his hair. “I can schedule you an appointment with Angela’s Reiki healer, however absurd his practices are.”

Booth, who was already half asleep again, shook his head and sniffed. “Mmm. Think I’ll stick with some good old fashioned R&R. It’s the perfect cure for a cold…” 

“There is no cure for a cold, Booth,” Brennan pointed out, yet she quickly realized that her statement, regardless of its accuracy, fell upon deaf ears. A smile upturned the forensic anthropologist’s lips as she hugged her dozing husband closer. 

She would wake him eventually so they could relocate to their bedroom, but for now she was more than content to let him sleep against her. 

 

END.

[Rook]

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONES  THANK YOU

Edited June 5, 2016 by batmansgirl

[SneezyHolmes]

Ah! How cute! I've been dying for some sick Booth!

[darkness-is-the-light]

I was wondering if you'd write something like this after the episode. I think I would've enjoyed this ending more than the ending that was actually in the episode. Sure, it was cute, but it wasn't what you gave. You did a wonderful job. I can see this as if it's in an actual episode. 

[March Hare]

OK this is before I even read a word of this, just to say that P and I literally just watched that episode and OHMYGOD I WAS SO TOTALLY THINKING THE SAME THING that I said to P "by the end of this episode he'll have caught it bad mmkay" and then I was mistaken and now SPOOFIC I am so so happy.

On to actual reading!

[March Hare]

1) Evidently Booth sneezes into steepled hands. This is canon.

2) Remember when I said you were Hart Hanson? Still true, with the dialogue. Booth is using all the Booth words and Aubrey all the Aubrey words and Brennan all the Brennan words and nothing jars anywhere, this is flawless.

3) DEM SPELLINGS.

4) And then he gives it up ummmmmm I can only imagine but yeah seriously enjoyable mental images right there oh beastie

5) AHAHAHA Angela's Reiki healer XD

6) Aaaawwww teh kyoot

OH Spoo. You make me so happy.

[Spoo]

Thank you SO much, everyone! ( Especially you, M .) Sick!Booth gives me life, and I'm really hoping that we'll get to witness him for real one of these episodes.  Until then a girl can dream.  

[Xsneezelover3932]

Yay, one of my favorite fandoms!! Mmm... Nothing hotter than a sick, sneezy, David Boreanaz. So yummy! Please continue!

[AngelEyes]

This is perfect. The characters are spot-on. And it's super cute too!

[•.*°•☆. Q .☆•°*.•]

Sorry to bump i only just found this tho and IT AMAZING  

Love aubrey's sass. Love booth's unwillingness, weakness, and exhaustion. Love his bad timing. 

Your character voices are so on point i could hear EVERYTHING in the character's actual voices in my head which made the entire fic like 9x better even. Not to mention your descriptions are so vivid, as always!! 

Love when you fic, tbh, thank u for sharing this with us all! 

[Caskett]

On 27.6.2016 at 10:44 AM, Quing Nerd said:

Sorry to bump i only just found this tho and IT AMAZING  

Love aubrey's sass. Love booth's unwillingness, weakness, and exhaustion. Love his bad timing. 

Your character voices are so on point i could hear EVERYTHING in the character's actual voices in my head which made the entire fic like 9x better even. Not to mention your descriptions are so vivid, as always!! 

Love when you fic, tbh, thank u for sharing this with us all! 

Yes to all of the above, that was so, so good, thank you!