A/N: Apparently I've been taken over by some Bones muse or something, since, like my last Bones story, I don't know where this came from. It does, however, also have my favorite intern in it, and I plan to have one of these chapters for each of the main characters. Anyway, any feedback's appreciated.

It's All Psychology to Me

Chapter I: Dr. Jack Hodgins

"I grew up on the streets, Dr. Hodgins. It doesn't take me long to get a feel for someone."

When Wendell had first come up to him, Hodgins immediately felt annoyed, as he did with all of the interns so far that had made their rounds through the lab. Okay, so the guy seemed less creepy and sociopathic than the others, but that didn't mean jack squat. He was still an intern, a mere grad student, and Hodgins was still feeling the betrayal of Zack's; no, more the pain of losing his best friend. He constantly made fun of the guy, but that didn't mean he didn't care for him.

So when the twenty-something approached him, Hodgins really wasn't in the mood. And when Wendell had only stated he was going out with a bunch of girls, Hodgins felt like he had severely misjudged how much of a douche Wendell was. Like Hodgins wasn't having enough girl and general life problems—now this new guy had to rub it in.

Then Wendell threw a wrench in Hodgins's mental ranting. There he was, explaining his relationship with his "girl friends" (Hodgins doubted that's all Wendell and his friends were), when he proceeded to toss in the "Most of them are single" addendum. Hodgins turned to look at the young man shrewdly. Was he saying what Hodgins thought he was saying? He really thought he could set up Hodgins? Well, he'd just crossed a line there.

Yet the guy continued, and Hodgins was beginning to think that maybe what he'd initially thought was simple callousness was actually backbone, enough to where he was willing to face the conspiracist's wrath. Wendell wasn't presenting his argument very well, having the gall to assume that he knew Hodgins, like a few cases with the Jeffersonian and FBI could really provide enough of an insight to all of their personalities. Hodgins prided himself on continually being a surprise, making people underestimate him. Worse still, the guy pulled a Booth and casually annexed a bit of himself, telling Hodgins he grew up on the streets, that it was a necessity for him to get a feel for people quickly. Hodgins of course instantly imagined the worst—in his line of work, that's usually what it was, anyhow—which was only fueled by the fact that he recalled Wendell had been raised in downtown Baltimore.

Dr. Brennan had chosen to hand out copies of the interns' files to her team purely as a heads up for anything, and although Hodgins had never really thought he'd need any of the information, he's reconsidering that now. Baltimore, Maryland was a tough city, up there with Chicago and St. Louis, and for a kid to get into med school from the alleys of that city was impressive. Naturally, it was only until Wendell finished his offer that Hodgins processed everything. Later, he'd say that the only reason he accepted the offer was because Wendell was buying, but at the moment, he was looking at the kid in a different way. Not that it stayed in the forefront of his mind for very long due to the urgency to identify some particulates, but it was there nonetheless.

Finally, the case with the bride from Hell finished, and everyone embraced with great happiness the evening they could go home, grab a beer or soda and not worry about catching a murderer, at least until the next morning. For his part, Hodgins was planning to just head back to his place, maybe get a little hammered or watch some movie, all the while trying to forget Zack's absence. Sounded like a pretty good plan to him.

He ended up being the last person out, save for Brennan, but he'd happened to catch Wendell shrug off his lab coat and walk out of the building with a relief that only came with reaching the conclusion of a difficult case. Though Hodgins at first just ignored it, another part of his mind hesitated. It wasn't like he really had anything important to do otherwise, it wasn't like he could snuggle up with Angela or something, and it wasn't like his colleagues were planning to get together to have dinner or something to just hang out.

Unable to come to a decision, Hodgins figured he'd just ruminate on it on his way home. The route he always took conveniently passed by the Founding Fathers bar, and he glanced in the window, to see Wendell sitting at a table, laughing with no fewer than four attractive women, and Hodgins could plainly see Wendell wasn't lying about it all.

He felt a quiet ring in his pocket, and pulled out his cell phone, only to have Angela's smiling face plastered on the screen, along with two options: Date or Hate. His finger hovered over the first option, before he smiled sadly to himself and exited out of the application. If he were going to ever get back together with Angela—and good God, he did want to—he wanted to do it right. Not by way of a program that turned out to be run by a murderer anyway.

So, swallowing whatever pride may have prevented him from doing it, Hodgins stepped out of the cold D.C. night and into the bar, heading towards Wendell's table. Upon hearing Hodgins enter, Wendell glanced up and greeted him with a wide grin, proffering his chair to the entomologist and grabbing another from the bar. It was an offhand gesture, a simple passing off of a seat to a senior colleague, but it was one Hodgins didn't fail to recognize, and he thought that was unusually respectful for most guys Wendell's age.

Hodgins gathered that Wendell must have told his friends about him, because none of them looked particularly surprised, but congenially introduced themselves to Hodgins, pleasantly saying Wendell had told them all so much about his internship at the lab, even about Hodgins. And despite the irrefutable fact that Hodgins had obviously fought with himself over the choice to join a junior grad student in what was veiled as a date set up, he found himself before too long having a good time.

For one, Wendell didn't seem to expect Hodgins to offer much of his own life, of any past events that were saved for friends and people he'd worked with for years and years. On the contrary, Wendell graciously allowed himself to be made fun of by his friends (whom Hodgins quickly deduced were not, in fact, involved with Wendell besides simple friendship) and share amusing, random stories about their various ventures with the young intern, of his life before coming to the Jeffersonian. Hodgins knew Wendell had had a colorful line of jobs, but hearing about them in slightly more depth and with greater abundance wasn't exactly unwelcomed.

The beers, fries, and minutes quickly racked up, and in spite of what Hodgins had preconceived, he wasn't really noticing the time. After only a few laughs and stories, Hodgins had forgotten about Wendell's stature of being below him on the occupational food chain, but rather accepted him as simply a guy he could—and was—grab a beer and hang out with, no expectations waiting to be met. Not that Hodgins was exactly prepared to consider Wendell a friend, per se, but he could definitely see himself working alongside the guy in the future. Certainly he was extremely less weird or uptight than the other interns that had studied under Brennan, a fact that Hodgins hadn't really thought about until now.

Eventually, and it had actually surprised him, it got to the point where the bar was closing, and most of the girls confessed they had work in the morning, which Wendell and Hodgins had to agree with as well. As the women filed out of the bar, a few of them handed him their numbers along with a smile, and Hodgins found he wouldn't mind going out with one or two of them; turned out, Wendell had been right about Hodgins having the opportunity to meet some great people.

And when Hodgins and Wendell stepped outside and ended up having to go opposite ways to get back to their homes, Wendell reverted to looking a little sheepish, like he was unsure as to whether Hodgins regretted going to the bar. So Hodgins held his hand out to the intern, who shook it with gratitude.

"Thanks, man," Hodgins said as they released the handshake. The exchange was short, but the meaning behind it was more. It was an acceptance that both Hodgins and Wendell acknowledged, one that Hodgins wasn't really the most generous about giving out. In all honesty, Hodgins had had a good time, had enjoyed himself on an evening where otherwise he'd probably be morosely back at his house, finishing up a few shots by himself. The kid had approached Hodgins without pretense, with courage to talk not about work with the hard-assed scientist, and Hodgins had to give him props for that.

As the two men turned and started to walk away from each other, both grew a self-satisfied smile. Hodgins was glad there was a good possibility that in the near future he'd be working with a new squint that wasn't a complete nutjob. Wendell was glad he hadn't been shot down in a public venue by a man that he knew was more than capable of shooting down people.

And both were glad Hodgins had given the guy a chance.