A/N: Welcome to Scribbles! Each Monday, Wills and I will each randomly pick a word from the trusty Synonym Finder and build a one-shot around that. Any genre, any character is fair game. And here's the first...a little something from Booth's point of view. Our words for this week -- "Refined" and "Gory". It was a blast for us to write...hope you enjoy! - AnaG

Hm. Good question. Kind of hard to explain though. No one really expects it when it happens. Or knows how it is going to happen. But this was miles past strange or unusual. Weird. Whatever you want to call it. Certainly wasn't the kind of thing that gets a guy to thinking--hey, this is something to tell the grandkids someday, you know?

I mean, you could actually hear the maggots, you know, squirming in all that gunk. And the flies were so thick, we actually had to worry about breathing them in. But the stink. God, that was the worst. Absolutely putrid. Believe me, about the worst thing you could imagine. At least until you got a look at where it was coming from. Made no sense then. Hell, it's still hard to understand now. Really, how many people, in their right minds anyway, fall in love standing over a rotting corpse?

This wasn't my first corspe by any means. Nor would it be my last. I had been four years partnering with Bones and I saw some of the most disgusting stuff imaginable. Stuff that would make you want to throw up right there on the spot. It was hard to take sometimes, coming to terms with the horrible things that people do to each other.

I guess that's why people who don't know Bones think she is cold. She doesn't flinch from remains or shed a tear, just gets to work. She is relentless in her pursuit of the truth and it isn't until the case is solved that she lets her guard down. I know. I'd seen it happen.

Today was supposed to be like any other. A new case, a day full of bickering, maybe some pie at the end.

But something had changed.

There she was, wrist deep in what was left of some guy's gut, her face inches away from all that gore. There was just this pure determination to get every last piece of evidence before the body was moved and the remains were compromised. She never fliched, not once, in the two hours we were there.

When she finally stood, there was this moment, when she was pulling those gloves off her hands and she turned to look at me. Not exactly at me. Because I got the feeling that she wasn't seeing anyone, anything, beyond the victim. She had been in his world all that time, and everything else, well, it had faded somehow. Gone away.

But I saw it, in her eyes, when she saw me. Really saw me. And then, just for a split second, I saw what she hid so well. The exhaustion that came with the examination. The pain that a man's death caused her. And that's when I knew. Knew that I would do anything I could to keep that haunted look from her face.

I couldn't look away, was conscious of the fact that I was staring at her but I couldn't do anything about it. As I looked at her, she struck me as an oddity. There she was in her blue jumpsuit, covered in mud and god knows what else and all at once she looked like she both did and did not belong there. There was something refined about her, the way she carried herself, that would seem more appropriate at a fancy dinner than in the middle of this mess.

But at the same time she fit right in, her scrunched face an indicator that she was trying to work out the puzzle in her head.

I blinked and she had moved, instructing the forensics team to bag the body and the soil surrounding it. She ordered them about with efficiency and soon I could see her in my sightline, marching towards me with a look of determination on her face.

I opened my mouth to say something witty, to ease back into our playful banter as she approached me.

"Booth?" she asked, that questioning look appearing on her face, the one I always found adorable.

"I like you." I blurted out.

I know, I know. How fifth grade was that? And leave it to Bones to call me on it.

"I like you too, Booth. We are partners after all. But I don't exactly see how that is relevant to the case."

She said something else after that. I think it had something to do with the blunt force trauma to the vic's skull, but I couldn't say for sure. Because all I could think about was that I had blown it. And that I had to find a way to make it right. And I would have. If Bones had ever stopped talking. So I did the only thing that came to mind.

I kissed her.

Yes. Right there in front of the dead guy. An entire FBI forensics team. And God knows who else. But I didn't care. Because it worked. She stopped talking.

And she kissed me back.

I can't remember now what it was like. All I recall is my heart pounding and the blood rushing in my ears. And then it was over. She pulled back and I could see a faint trace of embarassment on her face. She hurried to the passenger side of the car and got in.

Meanwhile, several of the forensics team members were grinning while others were handing over money. I grinned then, and hopped in the car, pulling away from the crime scene without another word.

And that's how it happened. That was the moment although Bones denied it for another three weeks until I cornered her in her office and kissed her again.

And the rest is history.