A/N: Cathmarchr presented me with an idea to write a story about Brennan and Rebecca talking about Booth. When I presented her with my interpretation of her idea, she had an even BETTER idea, which was that we both would do mirroring stories around that theme. What you are about to read is my take on how a conversation might go. Our stories start and end the same way, but the Rebecca/Brennan convo is different. Her story is called 'Dear Abby', and can be found under "Favorite Stories" in my profile. Check it out, you will not regret it!

--B&B--

On a bright and clear Friday afternoon, Temperance Brennan was jaywalking across Pennsylvania Avenue toward the J. Edgar Hoover Building when she heard a cheerful shriek from the sidewalk ahead.

"Bones!"

She jogged to the curb, scanning the crowd. Sure enough, a curly blonde head popped from between two people, and Parker Booth came dashing up to her, with Rebecca hot on his heels.

Parker flung his arms around Brennan's waist, and she said hello to the little boy and his mother.

"Hi, Dr. Brennan," Rebecca said with a carefully neutral expression. "Parker, why don't you go in and ask the security guard to call your dad down?"

"Okay," Parker yelled, and dashed into the Hoover, leaving Rebecca and Brennan standing together in the sunshine.

"So…" Brennan nodded and clasped her hands in front of her waist, wondering whether it would be rude to state she'd rather follow Parker into the building. "Um…your hair…" she motioned up toward her own head. "It seems different. Lighter."

"Oh, yes…" Rebecca smiled. "I just got more highlights put into it. Blondes have more fun, you know," she added in a playful tone.

When Brennan didn't reply, Rebecca nodded. "Ah, right…" she murmured to herself. No common phrases, Seeley had once told her in his instructions on what she was and was not allowed to say to his partner. No sex talk, and no jokes either. She sighed and looked around the anthropologist toward the entrance to the FBI building.

But apparently she wasn't going to get away with her statement. Brennan was frowning and she tilted her head to the side.

"It's empirically impossible to determine 'fun' levels, but even if it were, there is no possible way that a color of a person's hair or skin could be an established variable as to that level."

Feeling annoyed and bitchy and just a little bit curious, Rebecca arched an eyebrow. "Well…" she pretended to consider. "I'm not sure Seeley would agree with you."

Brennan stiffened. "I'm quite positive that Seeley…" she flushed. "I mean, Booth, would agree with me. He knows better than to challenge my intellect, and even if he did, well…" she scoffed. "I know he would feel the same way. People with blonde hair may have fun at times, but it's irrational to suggest that their hair color has anything to do with it."

Rebecca just shrugged a shoulder as if she clearly didn't agree, and the smile on her face hinted to Brennan that she specifically didn't agree, particularly where Booth was concerned. "You don't call him Seeley?" she smirked.

Brennan frowned and also looked toward the door of the FBI building. "No. He's my partner. He's not my…"

Rebecca flipped her hair over her shoulder and nodded condescendingly. "Oh, right. I forgot. I mean, he does let some women call him that, but only, well….you know…" her implication of intimacy rankled Brennan.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Either way, I still stand by my statement that hair color is not indicative of a person's ability to function in social settings."

Function in social settings?!? Rebecca's lip curled up. "And I stand by mine." And when Brennan looked horrified at her refusal to see the logic, Rebecca barely hid a smile. "Perhaps we should just ask Seeley once he comes outside. I know he's known a lot of blondes in his time, and he has had a lot of fun."

Brennan frowned. "You're not jealous of that?"

"No" Rebecca laughed. "Why would I be?" When Brennan didn't answer, Rebecca went in for the kill. "Are you jealous?"

"What?" Brennan flinched and blinked. "No. Of course not. That would hardly be…" she trailed off and then swallowed. "No…"she finished coolly. "No, I am not."

"Well…" Rebecca forced a shrug. "It's just as well. Gentlemen do prefer blondes."

When she saw Brennan open her mouth for another diatribe on the impossibilities of determining the whatever for some whatever other thing, she held up a hand. "And Seeley is nothing if not a gentleman."

Brennan pursed her lips together in a frown as memories and images both supporting and refuting that claim floated through her mind. Countless numbers of opened doors and guiding hands vs. heated looks and hockey injuries. Her shoulders quivered as she tried to figure out whether or not she was annoyed with the idea of Booth being a gentleman or not, if in fact it were true that gentlemen preferred blondes, although she suspected such a statement would be impossible to validate.

Just then, Booth emerged from the building, ruffling Parker's hair as they walked together. Booth glanced up, and his eyes darted from Rebecca to Brennan and back again. His expression was equal parts suspicion and nervousness.

"Hey," he greeted them both cautiously. "What are you two chatting about?"

The women eyeballed each other.

"Nothing," Rebecca said with a brighter-than-necessary smile. "You guys have a nice weekend, and I'll see you on Sunday," she said to Parker, giving him a kiss. She turned away and disappeared into the crowd.

Booth narrowed his eyes at Brennan. "Seriously, what were you and Rebecca talking about?"

"We were just making small talk," she replied with wide eyes and an innocent smile. "Now, who's hungry?"

"I AM!" Parker screamed, and grabbed Brennan's hand, dragging her down the sidewalk toward the parking garage. Booth shook his head and followed them. Why did he have the feeling that he was in trouble?

--b&b--

Ack! Who doesn't love Booth in a little bit of trouble, right? Hey, stick around till the next hour for "Indigo" in which Brennan accepts a date with a man, and Booth...well...