Author's Note: OK, I'm not making any more comments about whether or not I'll write more. If inspiration strikes me, I will; if it doesn't, I won't.

This story is dedicated to a certain "Wonder Woman," and it's a sequel to "The Anthropologist In The Miniskirt."

The Special Agent In The Leather Jacket

Seeley Booth looked at the bed. Temperance had laid out five suit bags on it, just for him.

"Bones, why am I letting you pick my Halloween costume this year?"

"Because you owe me for last year."

"Aw, come on, it wasn't that bad, was it?"

"I will admit that I didn't mind too much all the people coming up to me, making a Rabbinical blessing gesture, and telling me to 'live long and prosper.' But that one creepy guy who kept asking me about something called 'pon farr...'"

"Yeah, he was a jerk. But did you have to deck him?"

Bones considered for a second. "Yes, I believe I did. But apparently I should have clenched his trapezius instead..."

Booth sighed. "And why are there five bags here?"

"Because, unlike you, I want to give you a choice. I will not just subject you to public humiliation."

"Kind of like the condemned man's last meal?"

"I don't know what that means."

"Just before a prisoner is executed, he's given whatever he wants for his last meal."

Bones paused. "That seems a humane gesture, somewhat akin to how..."

Booth interrupted her – he was in no mood for a lecture on the rituals of some obscure tribe from halfway around the world. "Fine, let's just get this show on the road." He picked up the first bag, unzipped it, and promptly threw it across the room. "Bones, there's no way in hell I'm wearing a clown costume!"

"But I talked it over with Sweets, and he said it would be a good step towards overcoming your coulrophobia."

"My what?"

"Your fear of clowns."

"I don't have a 'fear' of clowns, I just hate them." He sighed. "Bones, I was going to have a 'no' pile and a 'maybe' pile. That corner over there," he pointed at the bag with the clown costume, "is the 'hell, no!' pile."

"Fine, Booth. Keep going."

He picked up the next bag and unzipped it, and briefly considered throwing it across the room. Stars, stripes, and a big double-W grabbed his eyes. "Bones, there is no way in hell I'm wearing your Wonder Woman costume!"

Bones said nothing, just shrugged and smirked.

Booth really wanted to throw this outfit, too, but while Bones had said she wouldn't repeat a Halloween costume, he might persuade her to wear it on some other occasion. And that lasso raised some interesting possibilities. He zipped it back up and laid it gently atop the clown suit.

Bag number three held a lab coat. "Huh?"

Bones explained. "I really didn't like that 'squint' costume you wore several years ago. This is your chance to do it right. I also have some rather fashionable glasses with clear lenses, as well as a Tablet PC loaded with appropriate reference works."

That earned the bag a place on the "maybe" pile – but barely. Booth thought it sounded incredibly dull.

Bag number four, though, had serious potential. Riding boots, snug suede pants, a maroon shirt, suspenders, a clunky-looking fake gun with holster, and a long brown leather duster. "Not bad, Bones. I think I can work with this one. It's kinda dull for a cowboy, though."

"It's my understanding that it's a 'space cowboy' suit."

"Huh?"

"That's what I said, but the shop owner insisted it was very popular several years ago."

"Whatever. That's definitely a possibility." That left just one bag.

"OK, Bones, I think we have our winner." Booth slipped on the black pants, black T-shirt, and black leather jacket. "I don't know where this look is going, but I think whatever it is, I can definitely pull it off."

"OK, good. Now I just have to properly accessorize you."

"Accessorize me?"

"Just a few touches to complete the look. Sit down." He promptly planted himself on the edge of the bed as she took out a bottle of mousse. "I just have to adjust your hair a bit..."

A moment later, she stopped. "That looks about right."

"Do you mind if I check this in a mirror?" Booth asked.

"That won't do any good..."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. Fine, go ahead." Booth ducked into the bathroom.

What she had done to his hair was... odd, to say the least. His normally military-close crop was now swept up, in a style a British SAS guy he'd known in Afghanistan had called "poncy." Still, he thought he could handle it for one night. It wasn't like Bones was asking him to do it for eight years. In fact, he kind of liked it – it had a "dark avenger of the night" vibe that he somehow found oddly familiar and comfortable.

He returned to the bedroom. "OK, Bones, this is it. Time for you to get your costume on."

"One minute, there's one last thing I need to do to finish off your look. She took a jar out of the bottom of the suit bag.

"What's that?"

She opened the lid, and began sprinkling the contents over him. "Body glitter. From my research, an essential part of this costume is that you have to appear to sparkle..."