In The Interest of Brilliance

A Bones Fanfic

Rating: M for language and references

Pairings: Hodgins/Nigel-Murray, Jack/Vincent, etc, Booth/Nigel-Murray, Seeley/Vincent, etc.

Warnings: Slash, Language, Sexual References (I always gotta include plenty of those), Random Trivia, and some British slang

Spoilers: Through Season Four

Author's Note: Happy Birthday, Erin! I hope you had fun and got some kickass presents. Happy Tofurkey Day to my Americans, and Happy Thursday to all my Internationals.

Did anyone see Adam Lambert at the AMAs? Wasn't that sexified? My god, I've watched it a million times. And Glee, Hairography was epic. I couldn't stop laughing when those wigs moved in slow mo. Review if you think Kurt and Finn are meant to be.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned. I do not own Bones itself, I only own my idea and random ramblings. I do not make a profit off of this and do this solely for the pleasure I feel when I write a story.

In The Interest of Brilliance

As Jack was focused on wooing the innocent and naive Vincent, a much messier affair was taking place elsewhere. Hot and sweaty, eyes focusing on each other, Seeley Booth was playing basketball one on one with Wendell Bray. Twisting, turning, soaked wife beaters clinging to his skin, Wendell stole the ball with a complicated snatch and, keeping his weight low, ducked beneath the older man's arm and performed a perfect layup.

"21-18, I win." The normally stoic squint couldn't keep the excited grin off his face. It was the first time he'd ever beaten the agent at any sport. Hockey (he always seemed to end up flat on his ass), soccer (last time he broke a toe), baseball (there was an incident with a flyball the face), and ping-pong (you don't want to know), whatever it was, Booth kicked his ass.

"Good game, kid." And there went the happy expression. Wendell set in his face in it's emotionless state once more, he hated being treated like an inferior. He wasn't 'boy', like his father had called him. He was Wendell Bray, future anthropologist, with a chance at success his drunken, deadbeat father never had. Maybe that was his connection with Booth, both had serious disappointments paternally.

"Yeah, right, I think I'm just gonna head home and clean up." With an half-shrug, he started walking away. A hand on his shoulder stopped him and turned him around. Seeley pulled him into a hug, strong arms conforming to the angular planes of his body. What was this? He looked up with the question in his eyes, only to be met with a warm, chapped pair of lips. Oh. Wendell wrapped his arms around his muscular form and kissed back. They stood in the light of the dying beams of the sun, joined quietly at the lips. Pulling away to take a breath, he looked into the warm brown eyes of the older man and said, "Seel-"

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Groaning, Wendell rolled out of bed, still sweaty from playing basketball earlier. He had gone home, and hadn't felt up to taking a shower. Just collapsing in bed, he stared at the ceiling until sleep took him away to the realm of endless possibilities. This crush, or rush of pheromones as Dr. Brennan would say, was going too far. He woke up at odd intervals throughout the night, unable to concentrate on anything but Seeley Booth. And he still hadn't won a game against him.

He walked to the kitchen of his dingy apartment, seeing a note from his roommates pinned to fridge. They would be in South Dakota for the holidays and he would have the place to himself. Hurray, just what he needed. Opening the refridgerator, Wendell grabbed a take out carton of pad thai, inhaling the spicy sweet scent greedily. That was another great thing about his roommates, when they left, their food was fair game. Following his morning routine, he scarfed down his breakfast voraciously, and took a scorching hot shower. He check the calendar and choked. Today was the day. The day of pain, passion and anthropology.

Dr. Brennan was only able to narrow down her graduate students to Clark Edison, Vincent Nigel-Murray, and himself. She had enjoyed their range of knowledge, but it was becoming a hassle to her to have multiple people on multiple cases. She decided to pick one, but couldn't decide on who. So, today was the day all of them were to report to the lab and compete for the spot. Great. Wonderful. Fucking perfect. And Booth was going to be there, what if he did something stupid?

Wendell dressed in a nice, light blue shirt that complemented his eyes and black, dress slacks. Grabbing his keys, he left and headed for the bus stop. The bus arrived and took him to the Jeffersonian to await his fate. He yawned, slumping in his seat and leaning awkwardly against the window. It was about 5:30 AM because he wanted to get there early and show diligence and such.

He almost missed his stop and hurried out the doors and up the stairs to the vestibule. Shit. He was a little too early. No one else was there yet. He sat down on the steps and pulled out his walkman. Yeah, he was old school, don't hate on it. It wasn't like he could afford anything better, anyways. He pressed play and closed his eyes, relaxing to the sound of Sweet Baby James by James Taylor. Always a great song to chill out with. It just made his body mellow out and the stress of the soon-to-come competition left his mind for a while.

Wendell zoned out, lost in the gentle melody until a sudden tapping on his shoulder disturbed him. Looking up, he jumped away and rolled down a few stairs in his haste. Agent Booth stood over him, looking fresh and awake, lucky guy, he was a morning person. And ouch, those stairs left a mark.

"Hey, buddy." He took the extended hand and was pulled to his feet, painfully. "Am I really that scary?"

"Uh, no, I just... was a little preoccupied...." He looked down and instantly regretted it as his eyes went straight to the Cocky belt buckle. Shit, looking at his crotch. Stop it. Now.

"I guess..." And to Wendell's horror, the older man started laughing, "You should have seen your face."

He couldn't stop the glare that came to his eyes. It hadn't been funny to him. Then, he realised who he was glaring at.

"Wow, Wendell Bray can get mad, huh?" Yeah, very easily, Booth.

"Stop it, please." Wow, that was definitely standing up for himself, he sounded like a kindergartener.

"Don't worry," The agent smiled and moved closer. "It was kind of cute." A hand caressed his cheek, and he leaned into it instinctively.

"Hey, buddy, oi, wake up." A foot nudged his side and Wendell opened his eyes once again. This time it was a pudgy security guard standing over him. Shit. He was having another dream, and this time he was in public. His cheeks flushed a little and he scrambled to his feet, completely embarrassed. He followed the guard, and after showing his ID, took the elevator to the lab. Sitting down quietly, he looked around, not used to the lab being so dark. It was the creepiest he'd ever seen the place, and that was saying something.

A voice cut through the darkness, "Hey Wendell, you're up early." And to his disbelief, Booth left Dr. Brennan's office, and walked towards him. He must have spent the night there again. He knew the older man had had some financial troubles, but not that he needed to live at the lab.

"Couldn't sleep."

"Same here, I swear, that couch gets harder everyday." That's what she said. The blush returned to his cheeks as he thought it.

"Well, my roommates are gone for a month, do you need a place to stay?" He couldn't help but offer, it was depressing to think the beautiful man spent hours on a couch like Dr. Brennan's.

"Only if I'm not intruding on you and your girlfriend."

"Girlfriend? I don't have a girlfriend."

"Angela? Don't you two have a little something going on? I saw you guys in the diner, you looked pretty cosy."

"No, she's not my girlfriend, it's more of a, well, um, a friends with benefits dealy."

"I see." Was it just wishful thinking, or did Booth look a little put out? "Hey, wanna play a game?"

"What kind of game?"

"The mot fun kind of game. Truth or Dare."