a/n: credit to Teresa Riordan and her book, "Inventing Beauty", the West Wing, and my International Relations theory course.

Brennan saw Booth's eyes widen as she emptied out her cosmetics case. Her partner snatched a tube of lipstick off her desk, eyes narrowing as he read the label.

'Sheer bliss, huh Bones? Didn't you say you objectify yourself when you put this on?" Booth said, waving the lipstick around.

'While I admit that there is a certain amount of objectification involved," Brennan started, trying to snatch the tube out of Booth's hand, 'cosmetics are not an oppressive instrument of masculine power.'

'What?'

'When successful, the artifice of beauty is a great leveler.'

Sensing the confusion from the FBI agent, Brennan tried to explain.

'When a female wants to make herself more alluring to a man, she enhances her appearance using foundation, concealer, blush, mascara-'

'Women actually use all that?' Booth asked, mouth open.

'As I was saying.' Brennan shot Booth a stern look. 'Cosmetics have allowed women to enhance their appearance. In turn, this enables them to captivate the eye of a roving male. This in turn, allows them to deceive the male into thinking that he is the one in charge. The man will think that the woman devoted her time and energy to make herself more attractive, while in actual fact the woman has used her aesthetic qualities to mislead the man into thinking that he is the one with the upper hand.'

'So what you're saying is that you put on lipstick everyday because you want me to think you're in charge?'

'That is a gross simplification of what I just said Booth,' Brennan corrected him. 'In Western society, especially, appearance has become a very important factor in our formation of social and romantic relationships. Women have merely adapted to that assumption and used it in their favour.'

'Aww come on Bones! Not every woman thinks that way. I'm sure they put this stuff on because they want to feel pretty.'

'They want to feel pretty Booth?' Brennan offered him a small smirk. 'Are you trying to say that before we put on our make-up, we feel inadequate somehow?'

Booth spluttered.

'Let me explain something to you Booth. I may be a renown forensic anthropologist and a best-selling author-'

'And modest too,' Booth mumbled to himself.

'But I am still, fundamentally, a woman. The state itself, and as a consequence society, is constructed by men. Essentially, we are indoctrinated to believe that masculinity is the default stance that we must defer to. Women are seen as the weaker creatures, driven by things such as emotions, and are accorded the status of those that must be protected.'

Booth blinked.

'War, aggression – they have been so prevalent in our time because men see war as a symbol of honour, something which enables them to valorize their efforts and prove to the other men their power and prestige.'

'You're reducing the international political system to a situation where men just whip 'em out, and see whose is the longest?' Booth asked incredulously.

'Whip what out?' Brennan questioned, her mind drawing a blank.

'Never mind,' Booth said hastily. He sure as hell wasn't going down that road with her. 'Just keep talking.'

'The world is male Booth. Women have simply realized that while they may have more rights then their mothers and grandmothers did, they are still constrained. We have simply recognized those boundaries and worked to carve out our own realms of power.'

'So you don't mind guys ogling you?' Because I do.

'I don't think whatever sexuality I have diminishes my power. I think it augments it,' Brennan replied, shrugging her shoulders delicately. 'Though I draw the line at becoming vicariously promiscuous.'

'So you're happy that men regard you as an attractive woman and nothing else?' Booth inquired.

'No,' Brennan admitted. 'I don't particularly like being subjected to degrading remarks. While I don't particularly agree wholeheartedly with lipstick feminism, I find parts of the theory logical.'

'What degrading remarks?' Booth posed.

'When you're identifying remains in a mass grave, the people who don't want you to identify them tend to resort to crass name calling. While I have learnt to ignore such remarks, it doesn't make them any less…' Brennan trailed off, uncapping the lipstick.

'You know Bones, you don't need any of that to impress me,' Booth said, jerking his head towards her tube of "Sheer Bliss". 'Not all men see a woman and think of sex on two legs. I see more than that when I look at you.'

Brennan looked up, fixing her blue eyes on him.

Booth cleared his throat, matching her stare. 'Yeah, I can't deny the fact that you're stunning-'



Booth thinks that I'm…

'But what you have on the inside-' Booth stepped closer towards her.

'What you have on the inside is more than good lipstick. It's stunning, and far eclipses everything I've ever known.' He finished, reaching over to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her skin was warm beneath his fingers, and smooth.

She tilted her head up towards him, and his eyes focused on her lips. He could feel her breath on his cheek.

'Bones?'

Her teeth were grasping his bottom lip, pulling and sucking. Their lips found a rhythm, melding together with ease. He groaned, feeling her tongue probe and then enter into his mouth. It was a fight for dominance, much like their relationship, but there was something deeper underneath, something both exciting and terrifying. Running out of air, he gently extricated himself.

'That was…' He didn't know what to say, what to think.

'Sheer bliss?'

Smiling, Booth couldn't agree more.