The Curse of the Bangs

By: Lesera128

Rated: K+

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: After looking through some old photographs, Booth and Brennan discuss haircuts, and Brennan emphatically refuses to get another haircut that includes bangs ever again. Set post- 6x22 ("The Change in the Game"). Future-fic. One-shot. Complete.

A/N: This is story was inspired by one of the first photos that's come out from season 7. So, in fair warning, a minor, minor, minor, teeny, teeny, tiny spoiler alert is required (hint: you actually already know what the spoiler is if you read the story summary). Set some time post season-6 finale/amorphously during season 7, here's bit of Booth/Brennan futurefic introspection passing itself off as fluff as a result of what I thought when I saw the set picture. Enjoy.~

"Hey, Bones?" Seeley Booth's voice rang out absentmindedly.

After the delay of a few seconds, a disembodied and muffled voice responded, "Yes, Booth?"

"How old are these photos?" Booth called out.

"I'm not sure since I can't see them and am uncertain to which ones you are referring."

"They're the ones that were in that photo album on the bottom shelf of the bookcase by your desk," Booth clarified. "The one with the dark blue cover?"

"Aren't there three or four photo albums with that same cover on the the bottom shelf?" Brennan responded.

Booth glanced down at the spot from which he had previously grabbed the photo album now in his hands and frowned.

"Well, yeah."

"Then, I can't accurately respond to your question right now since I can't see the album in question to distinguish it from the others and answer your question," Brennan said.

"But, Bones! You look so cute in this one. I just want to know how come you don't have a bikini like this one anymore or if you're holding out on me."

"What?" Brennan yelled. "There's no picture of me wearing a bikini in any of those photo albums."

"Yes, there is," Booth retorted. "I'm looking at it right now, and you're in this cute little black two-piece number. So, when was it taken?"

A foul expletive erupted from Brennan's mouth, followed by a series of scraping noises, a long exchange of shuffling, and several loud thuds before a disheveled looking Dr. Temperance Brennan emerged from the depths of her home office's walk-in closet. Her arms placed defiantly on her hips, Brennan stared at Booth.

"There are three problems here," Brennan said, as she pointed a finger at him. "One, I take issue with the fact that you continually use the adjective 'cute' to describe my physical attributes. 'Cute' is a word defined as something that is 'pleasingly pretty, but in a dainty way' or 'appealingly charming.' I'm many things, Booth, but 'dainty' or 'charming' probably aren't one of them. Second, you're lying. Which, leads to number three... you're just saying that I'm cute and in a bikini to distract me and/or tease me since you're getting bored while I'm looking for the ticket stub that *you* asked *me* for since you lost yours more than two months ago, and still need one to get reimbursed for your expenses from the Marshall case... which I can't believe you're this late in filing the paperwork for, by the way."

"I am not," Booth said, although Brennan sure which claim he was trying to deny.

"Yes, you are," Brennan huffed.

"Well, it's not like you managed to find it anyway, now, did you?" Booth said. "All that hemming and hawing, Bones... 'oh, Booth, of course I still have it because I never throw anything out and save all my paperwork like the proper squint I am.' Yada yada yada. And, still no ticket stub.'

Brushing a stray hair out of her eyes, and tucking it behind her ear, Brennan walked over to where Booth sat with his feet propped up on the edge of the desk. Frowning, she moved forward and knocked them off and then took a small piece of paper out of her jeans pocket and slammed it down on the desk.

"Hey!"

"Yes, Booth?" Brennan smiled sweetly at him.

"What was that for?" Booth asked, mildly annoyed, as he glanced at the ticket stub Brennan had seemingly conjured from thin air.

Brennan narrowed her eyes. She then asked innocently, "What was what for?"

Noticing a slight crinkle at the edge of her mouth, Booth realized Brennan was teasing him. Not one to give into her if he could possibly help it, Booth dropped the question and raised the photo album in the air so she could see it.

"These photos?" Booth asked. "How old are they, Bones?"

Brennan reached for the album and began to flip through it. She suppressed a smile as she handed it back to Booth and said, "Most of them are probably at least five years old… some as many as ten. Why?"

"Just curious," Booth said. "Some of them I've seen before, but some of them I hadn't."

"Angela likes to put albums together for me since she knows I like having the photos, but I don't have the patience to put the albums together and arrange them myself. I think that one was a birthday gift… hmmm, maybe around 2005 or 2006?"

"Well, which is it?" Booth asked.

Shrugging, Brennan took pointed and said, "Well, take a look. If you're in some of the photos, it's probably 2006. If not, it's probably 2005." She paused and then added, "I can guarantee you, however, that there are no pictures of me in a bikini in any of these albums."

"Oh?" Booth said, his interest growing as he leaned forward a bit in his chair. "Let me guess. You keep the really good ones somewhere more private right?"

Brennan laughed. "Yes, that's it exactly, Booth. I hide the photos where I'm most scantily clad away from prying eyes... and nosy partners."

"I knew it!" Booth said.

Brennan stared at him, a deadpan expression on her face. "Really, Booth?"

Suddenly, his big grin fell as he said, "You were being sarcastic?"

Brennan nodded.

Shaking his head, Booth replied, "You're a tease, you know that, Bones?"

"I've been called worse," Brennan said with a shrug.

"Tease," Booth repeated, as he looked down at the photo album and began to flip through it's pages again. "Big tease." After a minute or two, Booth told her, "I'm not in most of them. Just one or two near the end with some of the shots of the squint squad at the lab."

"Well, there you go," Brennan said. "Probably 2005, then."

"Hey, Bones?" Booth asked.

"Yes, Booth?" Brennan responded, walking back towards the closet.

"How come in all these photos your hair's different?" Booth asked.

"What do you mean?" Brennan asked only half-listening to him, as she stopped and grabbed a notepad and pen from the desktop and began to scribble a new list on it.

"In these photos… your hair? It's different than it is now," Booth said.

"What?" Brennan said, looking over at him. "Is it shorter? When I was going on more long-term digs, I usually got my hair cut shorter because it's just more practical. Shorter hair's easier to take care of than longer hair when I'm in the field."

"No," Booth said, shaking his head. "That's not it. I mean, yeah, your hair is shorter in some of these pictures than others. But, it's something else."

Looking at him, Brennan said, "You're going to have to be more specific, Booth." She winced slightly as she reached up and pulled at the elastic holding her hair back and shook it out. "I think being stuck in that closet for all this time is giving me a headache—"

Suddenly, Booth snapped his fingers. Brennan's eyes darted towards him.

"That's it!" he exclaimed.

"What?" Brennan asked.

Jabbing his finger at one of the photos, Booth grinned and said, "I figured it out."

"Okay," Brennan chuckled. "Enlighten me as to how you have solved the great riddle of my evolving hair styles through the years."

"Bangs," Booth said. "In these pictures, even though the lengths are different, you've almost always had bangs."

Frowning, Brennan reached for the album. She flipped through a few pages again, this time looking at her haircut in each one. When she reached the end of the album, Brennan found she could not fault Booth's assessment.

"Yes, it appears you're right," Brennan admitted reluctantly. "I had not considered such a pattern emerging in my preference of hairstyles over a significant period of time, but it seems as if you've identified some type of subconscious pattern on my part of which I was not previously aware."

"So, how come you don't have them anymore?" Booth asked. "You looked cute with bangs."

"Can't you please use a more precise and appropriate adjective?" Brennan sighed.

"No," Booth chuckled. "Not, when you keep letting it rile you up like you do. It's funny."

"I find that I prefer, when I'm working a normal schedule in the lab, to favor a haircut style that doesn't incorporate any type of bangs, as they limits the options I have for styling my hair," Brennan said, ignoring his comment. "I much prefer the greater freedom I'm given by not having them."

Booth noticed the slight change in the timbre of Brennan's voice as she spoke... just a bit *too* quickly. His curiosity piqued, Booth then decided that Brennan's response rolled off her tongue a bit too artificially, almost as if it has been rehearsed. Deciding to test his hypothesis, Booth maintained a light tone to his own voice as he kept a congenial smile on his face.

"But, you'd try them out again the next time you get your hair cut if I asked you to, right?" Booth asked slyly.

Brennan frowned. "Why would you ask me to do something like that?"

"Because," Booth said, screaming internally with glee, as he noticed the increased seriousness of Brennan's response and knew his original instinct had been correct. She was hiding something. For lack of anything better to do than play cat-and-mouse with Brennan, Booth decided to see if he could get her to crack or not. "Like I said, you look cute... err, attractive with bangs."

Feeling like she was being back into the corner with no room to escape, Brennan resolved to retake control of this discussion... even if it meant playing the guilt card. "So, you don't find my current hairstyle pleasingly or visually appealing then?" Brennan asked, letting a touch of sadness enter her voice.

"I didn't say that," Booth said immediately. He then added firmly, "You know I think you're mind-blowingly gorgeous no matter how you style your hair, Bones."

"Then, is this some sort of alpha-male test to see if you can successfully exert a manipulative influence on me as your mate where others would most certainly be unable to achieve success in the same situation?"

Sighing, Booth said, "No."

"Then, what does it matter if I have bangs or not?" Brennan asked again.

The cat-and-mouse game that Booth had envisioned suddenly evaporated as he realized Brennan was being honestly stubborn about this for some inexplicable reason. Deciding that logic was the best approach to counter her defensive directness, Booth said, "You like it when my hair's cut shorter in the back than I normally prefer, and since you like it, I get it buzzed a little closer than I used to," Booth countered. "So, if I do that for you, what's the big deal about you doing the same thing for me?"

"Because that's not the same thing, and you know it," Brennan said. "First, you look better when your hair's cut like that in back. Everyone's always told you that, from Rebecca to Cam and Angela… not just me."

"So? I didn't do it for them, I do it because I know you like it better," Booth said.

"Plus," Brennan continued. "Getting bangs cut requires a serious time commitment, Booth. I can't just undo them four weeks later like you can when your hair's grown longer to replace the shortness of your previous cut. If I get bangs cut, it means it'll be at least twelve weeks of time before they'll be even be halfway to the point where I can grow them out again," Brennan said.

Chuckling suddenly, Booth said, "Bones, you surprise me. I had no idea that you were this… girly about something."

"I'm not being vain," Brennan insisted. "I just find I prefer not to incorporate bangs into my current hairstyle, okay?"

"So, does that mean that the next time you go on a dig you *will* be getting a haircut with bangs? I can work with that. It'll give me something to look forward to," Booth said, waggling his eyes a bit.

Brennan, however, recalling the last time she had got her typical haircut for such a dig, emphatically shook her head. "Hell no."

Sitting up a bit at the change in her tone, Booth decided honesty appeared to be his only recourse if he hoped to find what made bangs such a sore spot for Brennan. "Why not? What's the big deal?"

Pursing her lips, Brennan remained silent as she remembered the last time she had gotten her routine pre-excavation expedition haircut. It had been more than two years ago and occurred right before she left for a seven-month exile in Indonesia. Thinking back, and not for the first time, Brennan already knew she associated that particular haircut with very painful thoughts and feelings. She viewed that haircut as having marked the beginning of one of the worst periods in her entire life, and Brennan didn't want to behave in any way that was even remotely similar to how she had lived at that time. Reaching forward, Brennan took the album from Booth's hand. He was still looking at her curiously, awaiting an answer to his question. Moving to sit in his lap, Brennan wrapped her hands around his neck and leaned in and gave him a soft kiss.

Caressing his cheek softly, Brennan said, "You know I like pleasing you, Booth. And, if there's anything that you would like me to do that you would find pleasing about my haircut, all you have to do is ask—"

"So, you'll get the bangs, then?"

"—Except for two things. One, I will never *ever* dye my hair blonde, and two… no bangs," Brennan said. "Not now, not ever again."

Frowning in an exaggerated manner, Booth pouted. "Spoil sport."

"Sorry," Brennan said. She reached and placed a light kiss on his cheek again. "But, I'll make it up to you in some other way, hmmm?"

"What other way did you have in mind?" Booth asked, his eyes darkening a bit at her own subtle tone of voice.

"I'm open to suggestions as to how I might be able to please you as a way to compensate for any disappointment my refusal about getting bangs has caused you," Brennan teased. "And, I have far fewer restrictions in reference to how I can make that happen than about my haircut, in case you're wondering."

Grinning, Booth leaned into kiss her as he murmured, "I just bet you are—"

In the few seconds, Brennan had the ability to process coherent thoughts before their impromptu make out session turned into something much more involved, Brennan mentally congratulated herself. Normally, she wasn't a superstitious person. She still didn't believe in fate, destiny, or anything that science couldn't explain. However, given where she was now in her life versus where she had been the last time she had bangs, Brennan remained stalwart in her resolution. She associated bangs with a time when she had been in constant pain, feeling lost and hurt and lonely. And, perhaps worst of all, Booth hadn't been hers, and, for a very dark time in her life, Brennan had despaired of having a hope that he ever could be. Not ever wanting to be faced with any of those horrible feelings again, Brennan felt comfortable with her past being in the past, and there it would stay. So, it wasn't exactly her being superstitious in refusing to get bangs once again… or even tempting fate, as far as Brennan was concerned. It was just… being on the safe side… just in case.

Quite happy with that assessment, Brennan smiled as she then allowed herself to surrender fully to Booth's warm kisses once more and enjoyed a life that was most *definitely* better than any she had ever lived under the metaphorical curse of the bangs.

~The End~