Disclaimer: Bones? Not mine.
A/N: Paddling in a new pool...
"Why are you calling me that?"
"What? What d'you mean?"
"Tempe."
"Isn't it your name? Temperance? Tempe?"
"Yes. But it isn't what you call me."
"Oh... I'm sorry. Dr. Brennan. I didn't realise I wasn't allowed to call you by your Christian - oops, my bad, first - name."
"Now you're just being childish- "
"I'm being childish- "
"Yes. And illogical. You've never called me Dr. Brennan, so I would have to question your use of that just as much as- "
"Bones, what the hell are you going on about?"
"That's better," she replied, face lit with an impish smile.
"Oh, I see." He grinned back. "You like being called Bones. You like me calling you Bones..."
She shrugged nonchalantly. "It's kind of like a passage, or ritual - a marker of acceptance. Being given a nickname."
"You never had a nickname? You? Wow, no offense, but, at my school, you'd have had- "
"I didn't say I'd never had a nickname. Though, to be perfectly correct, it was probably more a case of being called names."
"Ah." Just shut up and pay attention, Seeley!
"They weren't very nice. Some were quite hurtful. None were intended to be inclusive."
"Bones, kids can be mean little bastards..."
"No, it's quite natural, instinctual. Identifying those that are different, stand out. Singling or marking them out, especially if they make you nervous or instill fear of any kind..."
"Bones- "
"Adults do it, too. Except they're more constrained by societal inhibitors - not as open or honest about it as children. "
"Which is all just an oh-so-cool, rational way of saying that some kids are little bastards who learnt it from their big bastard parents!"
"Booth!" she laughed.
"You know, some people would say 'Bones' isn't a very nice nickname..."
"That's because they don't know its context. Or hear the way you say it."
"Oh? And how do I say it?" he asked, with a teasing grin.
"Like a nickname should be said," she replied evasively. "Or, perhaps, that's merely the way I hear it."
"No, I think we're saying and hearing it exactly as it's meant to be said and heard."
"I agree."
"And - just to compare - how do the rest of the squints say it?"
She looked at him with astonishment. "Nobody else calls me Bones. They can't."
"What? Why can't they?"
She gazed at him with that slight, bemused frown she always wore when having to explain what was crystal clear to her - that singular look of why-do-I-have-explain-this-perfectly-logical-and-obvious-fact.
"Because it isn't theirs to use. It's our name."
"Oh... Ours. I like that, Bones."
"So do I. It connects us. Like bones do, " she explained softly. "Except strictly speaking, of course, tendons and ligaments are the real connectors..."
He laughed.
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