A/N: Okay kiddies, here's the skinny: in the past few months, SSJL and Kinsey Jo (that's us!) discovered that we were separated at birth! We know, exciting, right? Unfortunately, it's not TRUE, but we powered through and became bffffs (best fanfic friends forever!). We have enormous respect for each other's immense talent (and incredible modesty…and appreciation of DB's body parts), and because we love all of you SO DAMN MUCH, we have decided to collaborate for you. Yay, right? This series will follow everyone's favorite forensic anthropologist and her knight in standard-issue FBI armor through a year's worth of holidays, and a year of falling in love. Say it with us now, awww! A gift for you guys, from us every holiday -- each one with a big ol' smutty bow on top. Enjoy!
XOXO, Kinsey Jo and SSJL (Nekkid Booth Inc.)
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Temperance Brennan had little affinity for holidays. At the very worst, they gave people an excuse to miss work, which was frustrating to her because she loved her work and resented the days she spent alone in the labs because of the superstitions of others. At their best, they were the fodder of superficial discussions that didn't interest her; she didn't send Valentine's cards, or pass out Halloween candy. These were just like any other days, in her world.
She didn't like holidays, but she did love her friend Angela Montenegro. And Ange liked holidays very much, and she liked celebrating them in the most festive ways possible. Which is why, after an extended period of begging and pleading and guilt-tripping that Brennan hadn't gone with her to a party in almost three months, Brennan finally caved and agreed to go to a haunted house party on the evening of October 31st. And why she submitted to a costuming job which was turning out to be much more elaborate than anything she ever would have agreed to had she known what Angela intended.
"Are you sure this will come out?" she asked worriedly, bent over the sink while her friend's hands worked through her hair.
"Yes. It's entirely temporary. Stop squirming."
"I don't believe that black hair is the best complement to my features."
"The features we are going to be accentuating…it won't matter what color your hair is. But it will definitely complete the look. Here, done." Finished with the rinse, she wrapped a towel around Brennan's head and helped her back into a standing position. "Now go blow-dry so we can get to the good part."
As she walked towards her bedroom, she called back, "So will we know anyone at this party?"
Angela sighed impatiently. "I don't know, Sweetie. The fun of these parties is that you go and try to figure out if you know people while they have their costumes on. It's always a surprise."
"I think I'd have a better time if I knew who I was partying with."
"Brennan…could you stop being so…yourself…just for a night? We're going to have a good time, I promise. Remember, we talked about this…you need this."
Ange was probably right, she thought as she dried her hair. She had been feeling tightly-wound lately, even more so than usual, although she couldn't pinpoint exactly why. It seemed that ever since Jack and Angela's failed wedding, when she was left standing at the altar with her partner and Jack's best man, Seeley Booth, she had felt a little tense. Off. Yes, it wouldn't hurt her to relax a little bit.
Her hair dry, she regarded herself in the mirror. It was definitely a change; the sleek black of her hair now stood in stark contrast to her pale skin and light eyes. It was rather exotic-looking, she had to admit. Her outfit was laid out on her bed; she reached for the mask lying on top and studied it before holding it to her face. It was black and feathery and cat-like, and it covered the entire upper portion of her face. Initially, she had thought that the mask was intended to make her look like a housecat, but looking at it now, with the new hair, she felt distinctly leopard-like; a little sexy. Nobody was going to be able to recognize her tonight. A slow smile spread across her face at this thought. Maybe this night was going to be more fun than she had originally thought.
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The basic element to most holidays was mystery. How does Santa get all the way around the world in one night on Christmas Eve? Who is Cupid going to pop in the heart with an arrow on Valentine's Day? And just who in the hell is behind the mask on Halloween?
"You want me to what?" Seeley Booth asked incredulously.
"C'mon, Man. It's a party. It's supposed to be fun. Not the Bataan Death March."
"Dressing up like a schmuck in tights is not my idea of fun, Hodgins."
Jack held up his hands defensively. "Costume, Booth. I said costume. You made the leap to tights all by yourself, there, Batman."
Seeley blushed. "C'mon. I'm an FBI agent. What else would I go as besides the Caped Crusader?"
Jack laughed. "Nice try. You want tights, wear tights. Just tell me you'll be there so I can tell Angela."
"Bones going?"
"You think Angie would let her out of it? She's going. You're going. We'll drink, we'll laugh, c'mon, Dude."
"I don't know…" Seeley began, still hesitant. "And for Christ's sake Hodgins, where would I get a costume in a day?"
"Dude, please. I'm begging you. Angie said it would make her 'so incredibly happy'," Jack quoted. "And if she's not happy…"
"I get it."
"Please. As my best man. It's your duty."
"Fine," Seeley acquiesced. "But you better not plan on playing that best man card for the rest of our lives," he finished with a serious scowl.
"Of course not. Totally slipped out. Won't happen again," Jack cleared his throat in an attempt to sound serious, but he had to bite his bottom lip to keep from grinning.
Two hours later, Seeley was digging through his closet looking for something at least semi-respectable to wear to this haunted house thing. He'd already scoured half the costume shops in DC and unless he wanted to go as a mummy (boring), Darth Vader (overdone), or a giant banana (what?!), he was going to have to get creative.
C'mon, Seel. Think. You're FBI. Lawman. Serve and protect. And then another idea hit him. Old west bank robber. The antithesis to any good lawman. No one would have any idea it was him. He went across the hall to his son's room where he was pretty sure he'd find the red and black bandana they'd covered Parker's curls with the weekend before when they'd been helping Rebecca paint her kitchen. He found the paisley-printed scarf folded in a square in the top drawer of Parker's dresser and took it back across the hall with him and set it on top of his own dresser. He opened the bottom drawer of the dresser and pulled out six or seven pairs of carefully folded Lucky jeans to the one pair of green-label Cinch jeans he knew to be tucked away in the bottom of the drawer. Booth never thought the day would come when he'd mentally thank Rebecca for her short interest in line dancing. Because of it, he also knew there to be a couple plaid shirts with pearl snaps, a pair of Ariat cowboy boots, and a white straw Resistol cowboy hat stashed in the back of his closet. He dug to the back until he felt the cool cotton material of the shirts. Jackpot. He pulled a white one out and eyed it critically, wondering if he could pull off the look. What the hell. Even if he couldn't, it was a friggin' costume party, and it would be dark. He pulled his teeshirt off and shrugged into the crisp cotton western shirt, closing the snaps it swiftly. He dropped his Luckys and his boxers, stepping into a pair of white boxer-briefs before pulling on the starched Cinches. He pulled the zipper shut over the "cinch up" label on the fly after he tucked in his shirt. Seeley reached in the dresser and grabbed a pair of white crew socks and pulled them on, padding softly to the closet to grab his boots. He pulled them on and stacked the legs of his jeans down over the tops. Whipping his brown leather belt through his belt loops, he checked himself out in the mirror. Lookin' good, Seel. You can totally pull this off. He tucked the bandana in his back pocket, planning to tie it around his face later, finally grabbing the white Resistol off the top shelf and smashing it down over his spiky brown hair. He grabbed his keys off the dresser and the directions Hodgins had given him out of the back pocket of his jeans and he was ready.
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A/N: Aww. Aren't they just so cute already!?
Stay tuned for more tomorrow! And btw…we are a special breed of writers we call 'review whores.' You are smart people and can figure out what that means. And respond accordingly;)
Love ya and see ya soon!