Did Something Stupid

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: When a person's in lust, it makes them do crazy things. They can't eat, think can't sleep, they can't think straight. In Brennan's case, she acts really, really stupid. This is how she explains herself and tries to solve her problem. Set during 4x03: Man in the Outhouse. AU.

Part II - I Tried to Apply Logic

Like any rational and highly intelligent person, I've never met a situation that I didn't think could be solved if I had a chance to take it apart, consider all the issues, anticipate all the possible outcomes, prepare for the most likely of those outcomes by developing contingency plans, and eventually solve the problem with which I was faced.

The only problem is, the longer I've known Seeley Booth, the more I've come to realize that situations and problems that can't be solved by logic and reason follow him relentlessly.

I've never met a man who is more infuriating or enticing in his ability to confuse and to challenge me all at the same time.

I suppose that's why I've spent all this time with him as a partner when I'd had never even really made a friend outside of my family who I could stand to be around for longer than short measured gapes of predetermined time. Now, aside from the fact that I'm the best in my field, I'm not really certain why Booth had put up with me all these years. At first, I thought it was because he was just being stubborn. Then, as time progressed, I thought it might be because he was a masochist. Later, I can only come to the conclusion that there has to be something besides my expertise that he finds as a redeeming set of qualities that keeps him around me in some type of social capacity. After all, it's not like the various lunches at the diner, late night drinking sessions at the Founding Fathers, the numerous take out nights at his or my place, the visits with his son, and general down time that we spend socializing can really be deemed as anything but voluntary.

I wish I could understand what he finds attractive in my personality to make him want to put up with all the things that I put him through. Yes, I'm intelligent, extremely well-off monetarily, and the that best I am in the field of forensic anthropology. I know I'm also physically attractive, albeit not the 'norm' when one considers Booth's prior predilections for leggy blondes. But, none of those things explain why he relaxes around me. Why he continues to have the patience to explain random pop culture references to me or further my 'education' with movie nights and trips to the bowling alley or mini golf courses. Somehow, at some point, for some reason, we became friends, and I'm still not certain how that happened. What I do know is that somewhere along the way, at some point, all those collective things made me realize that I want him more than I already did during the very first week I met him and realized that I had an immediate and extreme physical attraction to him. And, just in case anyone missed it, I wanted him a lot during that first case.

All of these thoughts, and a few others, were swirling in my mind on our return to the Hoover building.

He was driving, listening to the radio, bopping his head to the familiar lyrics of one of the 80s radio stations he liked. For my part, I sat in the passenger's seat, trying to reason what I was going to do about the latest mess of a situation that I'd created that morning when Booth found out about Mark. That part still irked me. I really wish he hadn't found out. I'm not certain why. It's not because I particularly care what people know about my sex life. I've never been a prude or shameful when it comes to such things. It's just I didn't want Booth to know. For some reason, I felt…I don't know, that maybe it might embarrass him? And, in that context, it caused me distress that he might have some negative response because of something I did.

A minute or two later, Booth's cell phone rang. He picked it up from where it sat in the center console's cup holder and didn't spare me a second glance as he took the call. I looked over at him nonetheless as I waited in expectation of being informed by what his field detail had discerned about out latest case.

His phone conversation continued for a couple of minutes before he ended it with the perfunctory, "Okay. Great, thanks." When Booth ended the call and tossed the phone back into the center console's cup holder where it had resided before, he then looked over at me and said, "O'Roarke and his wife live in Cherry Ridge. Old Bill must have been making a tidy sum."

I considered the point and forced myself to focus on our case. At last, I tilted my head, made a face, and couldn't help myself as I said, "Well, he shouldn't have been rewarded. He was perpetuating a primitive and prurient morality by parading victims for the purpose of entertainment."

Booth, in response, made a face of his own countered my statement in that infuriatingly appealing way that only he can do. "Well, you know what? You cheat on your spouse, you get what's coming to you." He looked quite pleased with his assessment as he gave a curt nod to emphasize his point.

When he got that look on his face, it was almost second-nature or habit for me to want to spout some type of factual scientific information to at least make an attempt to keep him from pontificating too much at any given time. "Anthropologically, 83 percent of societies are polygamous," I finally managed to say as I shifted slightly in anticipation of his response.

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, Booth did have a response―and an inane one, at that, which told me I'd caught him off guard with my factual recitation. "Now you sound French, okay?" He pursed his lips together and then let his eyes glance from the road to me and back in a quick movement as he gathered his thoughts. He then added, somewhat of an improvement on his prior retort, but still somewhat lacking in its ability to effectively countermand my statement, "Look, being faithful is what separates us, you know, from the chimps."

I chuckled silently. Booth's thought processes and the way he comes up with his statements whenever he tries to counter my scientific points with one of his own really is amusing.

Shaking my head slightly, I struggled to keep the amusement out of my voice―lest he pick up on it and take it as some sign I'd conceded the point―as I responded, "No, actually, it's a gene called HAR1F."

Again, another scientific point to me. And, moreover, Booth knew it. And, I knew he knew it when he quickly changed debate tactics from fighting scientific fact with science to attempting to counter scientific fact with religion.

"We're talking about the Ten Commandments here, Bones," he said emphatically. "'Thou shalt not commit adultery'―one down from your personal favorite, 'Thou shalt not kill'."

I have a personal favorite among the Ten Commandments? I was unaware of this. But, since Booth had brought up religion in our discussion, I considered it fair game to rib him just a bit.

"Oh, so you also believe that Moses wandered the desert for 40 days, climbed Mount Sinai, at which point a supernatural force carved a convenient list of behavioral guidelines on two pieces of rock?" I asked.

Booth, another self-satisfied look on his face, nodded at me as he answered, "Yeah." I'd opened my mouth to counter his point when again, the mysteries of his brain struck and befuddled me into silence. "That's why it's on the Supreme Court," he added, seeming quite pleased with himself.

As I considered his point, and knew it to be true factually, I realized that somehow Booth had outmaneuvered me once again. How in the hell did that happen? While I tried to make sense of that, I could only manage a single response, "Fascinating."

Of course, I meant that statement less in response to his point about the Ten Commandments and their connection to the US Supreme Court, and more in relation to how his brain had managed to go from spousal fidelity to apes to the Bible to the US Supreme Court. Then, as he pulled into the parking garage near the Hoover that signaled the end of our commute, I realized that the only person who could pull off a mental stunt like that, and come away feeling as if he'd made a perfectly rational argument that had bested my logic was Seeley Booth.

And, that made me realize that I cared even more for him in that moment than I'd realized that morning…which is saying something, by the way.

Because, I had quite the epiphany this morning. I did. Several, in fact.

And, I still wasn't certain what to do about it since I wasn't quite certain how and why the epiphanies had decided to manifest themselves this morning anyway.

I suppose, in a way, it had to do with Mark.

It happened like this. That night, after our most recent interlude, I had a somewhat jarring revelation. Even though the sex did allow me to achieve a physical release, it was, for the first time…not as memorable as I'd anticipated it to be. More over, instead of falling into a relaxed slumber as I usually do after I achieved my orgasm, something strange happened. Instead of going to sleep, I found myself thinking about Booth.

Now, the question is ―why?

Well, that's a very complicated answer. But, here's the best explanation I've come up with as I worked through the matter while reading all those World Archaeology magazine articles. And, again, I'd never admit this to anyone else, but here goes. I'm not certain he even noticed as Mark can be somewhat…single-minded when it comes to such things, but that night when all of this started? Something happened to me, and I noticed it even if I didn't identify it's significance until a little later.

That night? Well, that night….

That night? It was the first time, even if it was just for a split second, that I forgot who I was with and why. And, for what was surely only a microsecond―a mere fraction of a second, I'm certain, it wasn't Mark that I was with when we were having sex. For a short period of time, it was a different tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed, cocky male who smelled like menthol and lemon and Ivory soap and had a grin that could―on most days―get me to do just about anything he wanted me to do.

That night, when I achieved my orgasm, it was him who I pictured on top of me, moving in and out of me as I pushed further and further towards release. It was him he called out my name…but not Temperance or Tempe, but a nickname that only he calls me. It was him who made me feel….something I'd never felt before that very moment.

It was my partner.

It was Booth.

And, that's why I knew I needed to do something about us. I'm just still not certain what to do and how because it turns out that I'm quickly coming to think that maybe he's one situation that can be solved by logic or reason.

And, that means, to borrow a phrase from Angela―I'm screwed. Totally and utterly screwed.

Because, well...what do I do with that?

-TBC-

Author's Note - Just a friendly reminder in case some people missed it, this is not a canon fill-in-the-blanks of "The Man in the Outhouse." It's AU, and that means I will be messing around with the episode. If that sounds interesting, lay on MacDuff. If not, well…okay. Good night and good luck.~