The Tequila in the Anthropologist

Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Just in case an audit is conducted – I do not own Bones

They were attempting to refute an assertion made by Benjamin Franklin – that insanity is defined as doing the same things over and over, and expecting different results. Although there were other, more clinical and contemporary definitions to describe insanity, this particular definition is arguably the most classic and poetic. Temperance Brennan recalled a discussion with her cousin Margaret, Ben's biggest fan, last Christmas. This particular quotation was often misattributed to other worthy historical figures such as Mark Twain and Albert Einstein, which irked Margaret greatly.

Cousin Margaret had also pronounced her opinion that Seeley Booths' eyes were too close together, Brennan disagreed. Staring into those eyes while poised to take their first tequila shot, she still disagreed, vehemently. The spacing of his orbits was within normal limits for a Caucasian male of his build, and they also were particularly pleasing to look at when his pupils were dilated like this.

Booth had filled their shot glasses as Brennan had positioned the salt shaker and wedges of both lemon and lime that their overeager, and over-tipped waiter had brought to the table. Right now, Booth was wondering if that intent, analytical stare that she was giving him was the same one that she usually reserved for human remains. He was entirely correct of course, but Booth was quite content to stare right back into her baby blues. It was not something that he got the opportunity to do legitimately. Despite the lip service made toward 'moving on' last night, the strength and depth of what he felt for Bones had not diminished. The only lip service he was remotely interested in at this point was of the kissing variety.

They had both agreed on the ground rules; avoidance of squinty talk, putting prudish sentiments on the back burner, being honest, and allowing some practical choices to made about where to go to from here. The first two conditions were self-limiting – add enough alcohol and they would go away. The second two issues were more dependent variables that were really at the metaphorical heart of the experiment. Brennan explained that if they could approach their current concerns in this setting, under these conditions, and end up with a different outcome at the end of the night, they would be forced to accept the alternate hypothesis.

"I don't know what that means" said Booth. Okay, it was her line, but it was true.

She gave a flash of a smile in response, because after three Margaritas she could actually appreciate the humour.

"What this means Booth is that if we conclude tonight that change is possible, we can move forward and have defied insanity, hence rejecting the null hypothesis"

"Whoa! Way too squinty Bones" said Booth. "So, if we work through all the reasons that things can't happen between us, we prove that we can change?"

"Exactly" replied Brennan. She moved in toward his ear and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "It also means that you will be able to go home and have sex with me tonight"

'Oh yeah! Oh God!!' Booth cringed, but stopped himself from making any comment that could be classified as prudish. It was just what she had done six years previously, albeit with significantly more alcohol on board then than she did right now. But it would take more than one of her rationally indecent proposals to shake him tonight, there was no way he was letting down Team Booth.

"I suppose it does Bones," he replied as he lifted up his shot glass. "Let's do this thing. Time to drink up and you can choose the first problem for us to talk about. " Booth licked his index finger and held it out for Brennan to put salt onto it.

It was game on. Brennan put on her 'game face', which Seeley Booth happened to find as sexy as hell. She put salt on his index finger and licked her own finger a little more slowly than was proper under experimental conditions. She added her own salt and picked up her shot glass and clinked it against Booths. They licked their salt-encrusted fingers, tossed back the tequila, grabbed a citrus wedge and sucked on it.

"Hoo-boy!" said Booth shaking his head, as Brennan hissed out a breath with her eyes screwed up in response to the burning sensation.

"So, will the FBI let us work together as a couple? Asked Brennan, throwing down the first obstacle. She was right down to business, and judging by the dilation of her own pupils and increased heart rate, perhaps a little too eager to get to the going home part as well.

"Yes they will Bones. You are a Consultant to the FBI, not a sworn Agent. I checked the rules. Relationships between Consulting staff and Agents are subject to evaluation by an FBI head shrinker. We've already got ourselves one of those, remember."

"What if Sweets says no?" Brennan countered, with a wrinkle worrying her brow.

"Hey, Sweets literally ordered me to 'break the circle' last night. To save our partnership Bones. Why would he do that and then dissolve the partnership?"

Brennan nodded to herself thoughtfully. "That would be both counterintuitive and counterproductive Booth...and Sweets would refute all of his own claims. And he would never be able to sell his book. I accept your logic."

Booth looked a little shocked. Four words to remove one barrier. One step closer to the three words he really needed to hear. Bones had taken the opportunity to refill their glasses with tequila. She handed him the salt shaker.

"Your turn Booth."