A Very Bad Idea
By: dharmamonkey & Lesera128
Rated: M

Disclaimer: Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. There we go

A/N: The holidays are a time for giving and, more importantly, giving back. We (Lesera128 and dharmamonkey) are grateful for all the wonderful support, feedback, enthusiasm and encouragement we've received from the FanFiction dot Net community, so it's high time we gave a little something back to our readers for the holidays (and gave ourselves the perfect excuse to riff on a short scene that's been a particular favorite for both of us). So what better way to do that than to chose to focus on a holiday-themed Booth and Brennan story with ample snark drizzled with a generous helping of unf? Well, there isn't any, as far as we're concerned. So, here you go. There were several great holiday Bones episodes we could choose from, but we went with the first Bones holiday episode, because it has several little moments that just oozed "unf." Yeah, you know which ones—but in case you forgot, or missed a couple, well, you'll see what we mean.

Also, we would like to point out the following: the two characters are somewhat out of sorts due to their anti-fungal meds. Quite honestly, that means that they both say and do things they normally wouldn't do (hence the fun and the story). No offense or disrespect on the part of the authors is intended in the course of any of the ensuing discussion of God, heaven, hell, or any religions, named or unnamed. Brennan's probably just been influenced by Trey Parker and Matt Stone more than she realizes. :)

UNF Alert: Yes, folks. You're reading a Dharmasera fic. So who are we kidding? This piece is going to be unf. Which is why you're here. Now, this one won't be quite as angry as Scenario #1 (or the first couple of chapters of Scenario #2, for that matter), but there will be snarky B&B banter—nothing too mean or angsty, though (because that wouldn't be very festive). If you don't like that kind of thing, move along. If you do, then read on. Keep that fire extinguisher handy, folks, because this piece might get hot.

III. Spreading Holiday Joy, Part I

Pertinent Details on Scenario #3: Set during the episode 1x09: "The Man in the Fallout Shelter."

If there was one thing that didn't say Christmas to anyone gathered in quarantine at the Medico-Legal Lab of the Jeffersonian Institute in Washington D.C., it was being shot in the behind with a thick needle that delivered an anti-fungal drug cocktail into their system to combat a lung fungus that they may or may not have inhaled two days before the holiday.

It was with this idea held firmly in her mind that Brennan felt her growing ire continue to rise. Such negative emotions were nothing new to the group. Since the very minute that everyone who'd been forced to stay confined in the lab, their perturbation had continued to bubble through to the service. Thus, Brennan was merely maintaining the status quo when she sighed, shot Goodman a very specific look of annoyance, and turned around to blink several times in confusion as she watched her partner get this hazy look on his eyes from where he was staring at a string of lights. Sighing, she clenched her fists as she trudged to where Booth was standing, reluctantly grabbed his hand as she gave him a hard yank, and guided him off the platform.

"Hey, cut it out," Booth muttered in annoyance, trying to pull his hand free of Brennan's vise-like grasp as they walked. "I want to look at the shiny stuff some more."

"You know, I don't know why I'm the one who has to babysit you," she snapped as she guided Booth towards her office. Shaking her head, she continued to mutter—more to herself than to Booth—as they walked. "I have three PhDs, I've logged more hours in the field and lab than most scholars twice my age, and—"

"And, you're still a huge pain in my ass," Booth grumbled, as if the thought had suddenly just gotten his attention. He slipped his hand free from her grip as he rubbed the spot on his ass where the CDC team had just injected him with the anti-fungal drug cocktail. "Kinda like right there—that spot, right there where they poked me. It's annoying...kinda just like you, Bones." He stopped, looked up at her with a goofy grin, and then said, "Hey, I have two pains in my asses now. How about that?"

Rolling her eyes, Brennan grabbed his wrist again, yanked him into her office, and brought him to stand in front of the couch. Pointing at it, she said to him, "Sit."

Narrowing his eyes at hearing the snippy tone of her voice, he shook his head in a way that was remarkably similar to how Parker looked when the four year-old was in a particularly petulant mood. "Nah uh," Booth shook his head. "I'm not gonna."

"Sit down, Booth," Brennan ordered him. "Right now."

"I'm not Lassie, Bones. I don't do 'Stupid Booth tricks.'" He stopped, then laughed to himself, before he cocked an eyebrow at her and added, "But that would be pretty funny if I did, wouldn't it?"

Sighing in exasperation, she looked away from him and shook her head in annoyance. "This is a completely inequitable and spurious onus that's been inconveniently placed upon me, and it's all happened because Goodman said 'he's your partner, Dr. Brennan, so it's logical that you would provide care for him in his hour of need,'" she muttered to herself. "This is so much tripe it's not even funny."

"I don't like tripe," Booth whined, grimacing as he looked at her. Brennan narrowed her own eyes as she saw how the glassiness in his eyes made his wide-eyed stare rather comical. "It smells really bad. I had to eat it once when I was on a deployment in Honduras in some kind of really gross-tasting soup. And, I don't know why people say dogs like it because I had a dog when I was a kid—his name was Schmitty, and I tried to give that to him for a treat, but even he wouldn't eat it, and that dog ate everything—"

"You had a dog named Schmitty?" Brennan interrupted him. "That's kind of a funny name for a dog."

"I was eleven, Bones," he said with a frown. "And, Schmitty was an awesome name, thank you very much, 'cause I named him after Mike Schmidt. And Mike Schmidt is beyond awesome, Bones."

"Mike Schmidt?" she asked with a blank expression on her face as she stared at him.

"God, you've led a sheltered life," Booth said with a sad look on his face as he stared right back at her. "Michael Jack Schmidt, Bones?"

"I know of a Johann Josef Loschmidt," Brennan told him with a small shake of her head. "He was a famous German chemist in the nineteenth century who was quite instrumental in disproving Ludwig Bultzman's second law of thermodynamics in their study of kinetics with his 'reversibility paradox.'" The incredulous look on his face told Brennan that most of her words just soared right over Booth's very high head. Rolling her eyes, she simplified her answer. "Since you seem to be unable to comprehend such a detailed response—even less so than normal—the short answer to your question is, no. Apparently, I don't know who a Michael Jack Schmidt was."

"You've never heard Harry Kallas talk about the 'great Michael Jack Schmidt?'" Booth asked, the disbelief still clear in his voice as he blinked at her several times.

"No," she repeated.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Booth said, "Mike Schmidt played third base for the Phillies, Bones." He stopped and then made a face as he said, "And, it's 'is,' by the way—not 'was'...'is.' Don't kill him before his time, huh?"

At hearing his words, Brennan laughed. "Would that I had such amazing cosmic powers over life and death, Booth, that all I had to do was to use the wrong verb tense to control the mortality of apparent legendary sports figures—"

"God forbid," he agreed. "Because, then, you'd do something like the Wicked Witch of the West did when she killed Santa by dropping that house on him and stealing his Santa hat."

Brennan stared at Booth, clearly bewildered even more than normal by his incoherent mixture of pop culture references. Shaking her head, she pursed her lips as she looked at him for several long seconds. She then forced a breath to exit her nose as her nostrils flared. "First, God isn't real," Brennan began. "Second, neither is Santa. Third, neither is the Wicked Witch of the West, despite your constant allusions that she and I have similar personality characteristics. Thus, since none of them have any true corporeal forms, I think we're on quite solid ground concerning the improbability of me being able to realistically fulfill your fear, Booth. Now, please will you sit your ass on the damn couch so I can go and get some work done?" She placed her hands on her hips in a clearly defensive posture as she narrowed her intense gave at her.

Putting his arms on his hips, clearly mirroring her posture in an attempt to mock her, Booth shook his head. "Nope. Nah uh. Not gonna."

"Booth—" Brennan said to him, the warning clear in her voice as her eyes squinted at him. "I'm not going to ask you again. Now—sit down."

"Make me," Booth said with a wide smirk as he stood in front of her office couch, but refused to do as she'd asked. "I dare you, Bones. Make me."

Something flashed in Brennan's eyes as she weighed the pros and cons of his dare. Finally, a sly look came across her face as she pursed her lips, shrugged, and said with a firm nod, "Fine."

Booth blinked at her for a minute, surprised at the seeming submissiveness of her response. Whatever he'd expected her to say, it wasn't something so—well, agreeable. Consequently, combined with his dulled senses, he was uncertain what Brennan was going to do until the very second when she actually moved. Reaching forward, she quickly grabbed his bright blue tie in her fist, bunching the smooth fabric in her hand as she gave it a hard tug. Pulling him towards her, she then reversed momentum and pushed him back into the couch with all of her strength. As she'd anticipated, the momentum Brennan transferred to Booth was enough to force him down onto the couch as she'd originally commanded. However, what she hadn't anticipated was Booth suddenly reaching out with both hands, hastily locking them around her waist, and pulling her down with him into a tangle of limbs on the couch. Brennan went down with a sharp yelp, and as soon as she regained some semblance of balance, she found herself draped over Booth's lap. Giving him a hard smack on the shoulder, she scowled intently at him.

"Hey!" Booth yowled. "That hurt!"

"You're so stupid!" she snapped. Turning her head as she tried to catch her breath, she said, "Why did you do that?"

"Why'd you shove me?" he countered, the pitch of his voice increasing in response to hers.

"That's not an answer to my question," Brennan retorted.

Booth shrugged slightly as he said, "Well, you didn't answer my question either, so consider us even." Smirking at her, he added, "Besides, I was just doing what you told me to do, Bones. I sat down."

"I told you to sit down on the couch, not sit down and take me with you," she snapped.

Booth playfully shrugged his shoulders as some of his earlier anger began to wane. "You weren't that specific. Next time, you gotta tell me exactly what you want me to do."

"What I want for you to do is quit acting like a five-year old and let me up so I can go do some work," Brennan told him. "Now."

"Why?" he said, his arms having worked to snake themselves around her waist. "This is kinda comfy, Bones, don't you think? So why not just stay here for a little bit? Huh?" Booth narrowed his eyes as he looked at her with another flash in his eyes as he said, "I can probably really make it really worth your while if you're a good girl and stay put for a while."

Tilting her head to look at him, she blinked at him several times before she asked, "Are you insane?"

"Nope," Booth replied with a quick shake of his head. "I'm good. Real good, actually. Now, what'd ya say?"

"You're serious?" Brennan questioned him, still staring in disbelief at his words. Truth to be told, she wasn't certain if she was more taken aback by the fact that he'd called her a 'good girl' or by the fact that that he'd made the offer in the first place. What is really going on in your head, Booth?

Nodding with a lopsided grin and a teasing waggle of his eyebrows, Booth replied, "Yuppers. You, me, this comfy couch, and looking at some of that shiny stuff on the ceiling—what do ya say?"

"In your lap?" she clarified, a curious look coming onto her face. Really? You're serious, aren't you?

"Sure," he said with a toothy grin. "You're here already, and you seem settled. I'm pretty happy with how things are right now—so, why ruin a good thing?"

"You think this is a good thing, Booth?" Brennan asked, holding his gaze. I'm not sure what's going on here, but yeah. Fine. You want to mess with me, fine. I can totally retaliate, Booth. Turnabout's fair play, right?

"Sure, Bones," he said. "Don't you?"

Brennan stared at him for a moment, leaning in slowly, fingering his tie as she smiled coyly at him. Booth's grin widened in response, and as she leaned in so that she was just a few inches from his ear, she smiled as she said softly, "Because—unlike some people, I have work to do." She then punctuated her statement with another sharp tug on his tie. Launching herself up from his lap to a standing position, She chuckled as he scowled back at her.

"You're such a buzzkill, Bones," he told her, crinkling his nose in annoyance. And a cocktease—such a damn cocktease. And, why do you keep trying to use my tie against me? It's almost like you want to lead me around like I'm your pet on a leash. What the hell? Nope. That's not happening—definitely not happening. So— "And, another thing—I'm kinda getting tired of you using my tie against me."

"Somehow I think you'll get over it," she smirked as her eyes twinkled in amusement. "As the saying goes, deal with it."

Reaching up to his neck, Booth shot her a look as he said, "Nope. Not gonna have to—"

"And, why is that, Booth?" Brennan asked, crossing her arms as she still watched him in mild amusement.

Booth tugged at his tie again, loosening the knot, and said, "Because, if you want to treat me like a ball of yarn then I'm not gonna make it easy for you." Once he had unknotted the tie, he slowly slid it out from underneath his collar, then he rolled it in a loose bunch of fabric and tossed it to her. "Here," he snorted. "Catch."

Brennan caught the royal blue tie in her hand as she shot him a strange look. She studied the tie for a second and then held it up in the air as she asked, "And, what am I supposed to do with this again?"

"Dunno and don't care," Booth replied with quite a casual sense of dismissal present in his voice. "Somehow I'm sure you'll find a way to put it to good use, but as long as it's not around my neck like some leash, I'm a happy camper—so we're good."

"Oh, okay," Brennan snickered with a shake of her head. "As long as you're sure."

"Of course, Bones," Booth said. "I'm positive."

"And, you're okay with that?" Brennan asked, still pressing him.

"Yup," he nodded. "I'm pleased as punch now that that damn thing is off my neck. We're good."

"Okay," Brennan said with a small sigh. "And, here I was just thinking you'd gone and decided to celebrate being under the influence with an impromptu striptease." She muttered the last part more to herself, and she wasn't quite certain why she'd done it, but she smiled to herself once she'd spoken.

Booth stared at her for a few seconds, blinked, and then smirked. "And wouldn't you just love it if I did?"

Snickering at him, she shook her head. "Please. Don't flatter yourself."

"Now, now, Bones," Booth said as he wagged his finger at her. "You can't deny what you want to deny just because you're into denial."

Arching an eyebrow at him, Brennan shook her head and said, "And, what exactly do you think I'm in denial about?"

"Me," he grinned at her. "You're totally in denial about me."

She shook her head with a twisted smile and guffawed. "Oh, that's correct, Booth. I'm currently trying to deny you because I want to deny you because I'm into denial, right?"

"What?" Booth jerked his head back in confusion. He scratched his head, considering her words for a minute, then said, "Whatever, Bones. Point is, I saw you out there earlier."

"Saw me out there doing what exactly?" Brennan said, tilting her head at him in askance.

"Checking me out," he smirked. "I bet you didn't know that, now, did ya, Ms. Smartie-Pants. You were totally checking my ass out when they injected us with those pain-in-the-ass shots." Booth stopped and then chuckled to himself "'Course, maybe we should just tell 'em we think they should call them Bones Shots since you're—"

"A pain in the ass," she interrupted him, heaving an exaggerated sigh as she completed his thought and slightly annoyed with herself for knowing how Booth was thinking. If I can anticipate his infantile humor, and presuppose what he finds amusing, perhaps I'm suffering from a heretofore unknown type of side effect of the drug cocktail—a temporary loss of IQ? Shaking her head again, she said, "Yeah, Booth. You said that already. I got it."

"Cool, cool," he said casually. "But, you understand that this is a really important thing, getting a medical procedure named after you. We want to make certain everything's just so, so I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't make my list and check it twice. So, I'm just making sure, Bones," Booth said in that cocky voice of his that she found so irritating. "Just making sure."

"Right, Booth," Brennan said as she rolled her eyes once she'd let him finished his inane prattle. She then narrowed her eyes as she said, "Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones?" he said, smiling at her.

"One more thing before I leave you to your medically-induced deluded rantings—" Brennan began.

Booth's eyes bounced with each word she said as he said in wonder, "Cool alliteration, Bones."

"Uhh, thanks, Booth," she said awkwardly. She paused briefly then continued, hoping to head off another rant. "So, anyway, as I was saying—"

"Yes, Bones?" he said, relaxing into her couch.

"Just for the record," she said. "I was not looking at you when they were injecting us with the anti-fungal drug cocktails. I was not checking you out."

"Liar."

"Excuse me?" Brennan almost snapped. "What did you say to me?"

"You heard me, Bones," Booth said as he took that opportunity to fling himself off the couch and walk towards Brennan. Stopping in front of her, he tapped her shoulder as he said, "You were totally checking my ass out. S'okay, by the way, since I've got such a great ass. I mean, I would totally check out my ass if I could and I were in your shoes, you know, because I know it's that hot, so I can't really blame you for just doing what I would do if I were in your position." He stopped and blinked a few times as he then added with a wink, "Just don't think I don't know what you were doing."

With that, he turned on his heel and stalked out of Brennan's office leaving her to stare at his receding form, wide-eyed, open-mouthed, and more than slightly annoyed at the accuracy of his presumption.

Later that night, Brennan sat at a station at the back of the lab's platform. She had left Angela after their impromptu discussion about Careful Lionel had revealed the fact that Brennan's family had left her a few days before Christmas when she was fifteen. The confession had come inadvertently on Brennan's part, and once she'd shared that very personal piece of information, she was not in any frame of mind to sleep nor be in close proximity to her best friend as she didn't want to really risk the potential of having to face more questions that she didn't want to answer in the first place. She therefore seized the opportunity to leave Angela's office and take refuge on the lab's main forensic platform. The normal safe haven offered by her office was not available to her because Goodman and Booth had claimed it as their sleeping quarters. Hodgins and Zach had already fallen asleep in the autopsy suite. Brennan had thought about retiring to the bone room, but solitude wasn't the only thing she was after on this night when she finally decided to head to the platform to start working.

I can't believe he called me a pain in the ass, she thought to herself as she walked around the bio-containment field that took up a tremendous amount of space on the platform as it held Lionel's skeleton. I'm not the pain in the ass. He's the pain in the ass, Brennan grumbled to herself. And, then, what the hell? I can't believe he actually had the gall to insinuate that me sitting in his lap on my couch was a good way to pass the time. What the hell, Booth?

In truth, while Brennan latched onto her thoughts about Booth's strange behavior as a way to keep from thinking about the more unhappy thought of what she'd told Angela about her parents, the strange behavior of her partner had somewhat unsettled her—particularly the blatant sexual innuendos he'd started to make as his inhibitions weakened.

What was he thinking? she wondered. I mean, I know he's suffering from the effects of the anti-fungal drug cocktail, but why would he do that? And, whatever he thinks, I definitely was not checking him out—no part of him...and most certainly not his ass.

Moving towards the very back of the platform, Brennan pushed aside one of the two armless, rolling black stools as she grabbed the other, pulled it out, and plopped down into the seat. Noticing that she was sitting in front of the station occupied more frequently by Zach or Hodgins, she noted, somewhat absentmindedly, that some of the bone fragments that her assistant had taken the opportunity to prepare slides for sat waiting on the table to be examined next to a file folder about Lionel's case. Guessing that Zach had decided to call it a night after he'd prepped the slides, but before he'd actually worked with them, Brennan grabbed the stack and moved the slides closer to the microscope. Leaning forward, she flipped the microscope's 'on' button, and had just started to delve deeper into the information that might be gleaned from the slides, when she heard a shuffling from behind her indicate that not everyone was as asleep in the lab as she'd initially thought.

Brennan didn't bother to turn around when she heard some more noises distracting her from her work. Instead, she merely continued staring into the microscope, only allowing herself to be interrupted when she heard her name called by the second voice she didn't really want to hear at moment (the first having been Angela's).

"Bones," Booth called to her, the earlier giddiness still clearly ringing in his voice. Refusing to turn around, she rolled her eyes in response as he spoke, even though she knew he couldn't see her since she still sat with her back to him. "It's after midnight, hmmmmm?" he said happily. "Christmas Eve day. Both an eve and a day. It's a Christmas miracle!" he exclaimed.

Still not looking up from the microscope, although Booth held her complete attention, Brennan said loudly enough so that he could hear her, "Still enjoying your medication, I see."

A little more shuffling continued as he ambled over to where she was sitting, pulled out the vacant stool next to hers, and threw himself into the empty seat.

When Booth saw that she was working, he tried to maintain a formal tone as he said, "Okay, so, what are we looking at?"

Knowing that he only had the slightest amount of patience for, never mind interest in, detailed scientific information on his best days, Brennan couldn't help but torment him a little bit as she said, "There are traces of lead and nickel in the dead guy's osteological profile."

As Brennan anticipated, she saw that Booth's eyes had glazed over when she finally raised her eyes to meet her partners. He had a miserable look on his face as he reached up and swiped the elf hat—which he'd been wearing since he'd earlier appropriated it from Angela—off his head. He observed grimly, "You don't seem too upset about missing Christmas."

Smirking, she continued to delight in teasing Booth—particularly when it involved his hypersensitivity about religion—as she took a ballpoint pen and gestured at him as she spoke. "Indications are that Christ, if he existed, was born in late spring and that the celebration of his birth was shifted to coincide with the pagan rite of the winter solstice so that early Christians weren't persecuted."

Booth sat with his chin cradled between his hands as he stared at her for several seconds. He then blinked at her and finally asked, "Hmmmmm. What are you, like, the Christmas killer?"

Shaking her head slightly, Brennan then nodded at him in affirmation, as she said, "It's the truth."

Annoyed at her presumptuous behavior, Booth gestured at her and said, "It sounds like the truth 'cause it's so rational, right?" His face tightened as he shook his head at her. "But, you know, the true truth is that you just—you hate Christmas, so you just spout out all these facts, and you ruin it for everyone else."

Looking at him smugly, Brennan only began to realize the extent to which his current behavior had deviated from his normal standards when she concentrated on his verbiage. Nodding at him, she asked indulgently, "I ruin the true truth with facts?"

"Yeah," Booth replied, "and you ruin it for the squint squad too by making them work on a case about a guy who's been sealed up in a fallout shelter for fifty years." He illustrated his point by picking up several of the color photographs that Angela had taken of the remains before they'd been put under quarantined lock down. He tossed them back onto the table haphazardly and then looked at her expecting some type of contradictory response.

Blinking at him when she realized that this latest conversation between them was echoing their earlier slightly confrontational discussion, Brennan breathed an exaggerated sigh before she asked him, "Well, how would you like me to spend my Christmas?"

Giving her a knowing look, Booth considered how best to make her understand his very important point. However, as he turned around to face her, he caught a whiff of her fragrance—most likely her hair shampoo—and couldn't help himself as he inhaled the heady scent with several deep breaths. She smells really good, he thought. Better than a department-store fragrance counter. Unable to help himself, he leaned in towards her, very clearly invading her personal space. Booth then narrowed his eyes and said in a very serious tone of voice, "Christmas is the perfect time to reexamine your standing with, you know…" He then gestured with his index finger as he pointed upwards with one hand at the exact time his other hand dropped down and came to rest on the soft swell of Brennan's ass. Oh wow, he smiled to himself. I'm touching her ass. Yeah, she's sitting here, and I'm sitting here, and we're sitting here, sitting here together, and now I'm touching her ass. And it feels really good. And she's letting me touch her ass without breaking my arm. Whoa. She hasn't moved. I'm still touching her ass, right?

Booth stopped, squeezed it slightly, and then nodded to himself. Yup, I'm still touching her ass, and I just squeezed it, and this pretty friggin' amazing. Hmmm. Yeah... His palm stroked across the fabric of her pants, noting the cleft of her ass beneath his thumb. So, now, when's she gonna slug me? He looked at her and then dropped his glance to where his hand lay, then moved his hand slightly to the waistband of her pants. I'm still touching her ass, then I grabbed her ass, and now I'm touching her skin. Fuck me, that's great. I can't believe it. How is this happening? Wait, do I care? He hesitated slightly, then slid his fingers underneath the elastic and felt a raw tingle in his belly as he stroked his fingers across her silky soft skin. Nope. I don't. Fuck. How awesome is this. Oh, wow. That feels nice. So soft. Like a baby's bottom. Except it's Bones' bottom. Oh, baby.

She barely blinked as she felt him tentatively touch her soft skin, and he stared at her expectantly.

What? Brennan thought to herself. Is he waiting for me to complete his thought because he thinks I'm some type of mind reader or does he expect me to knock his hand away from my ass? Because, if he does, Booth has another thing coming. I won't give him the satisfaction of knocking his hand away—no, I'm definitely not doing that.

Her decision made, she smirked again as she did decide to address the less incendiary topic. "A helicopter pilot?"

Somewhat surprised that Brennan hadn't even acknowledged his hand on her ass, let alone knocked it away as he'd continued to touch her, he decided to play along if she was game as he responded, "Oh, right. Right. You can't measure the man upstairs in a beaker, so he can't possibly exist."

Indulging him again with a nod, she questioned, "The man upstairs?"

Booth leaned in closer, slid his hand deeper into her pants and gave her ass a tentative squeeze, then nodded. He continued to lean in closer to her face, the fingers on his free hand coming within just a couple of her inches of her lips. If she's not doing anything when I touch her ass, maybe she won't do anything if I try to touch her lips, too?

"Mmmmmm," he murmured. "You know, you don't know if you're sick, but you're more than willing to take drugs just in case. It seems to me you could give the man upstairs the same benefit of the doubt that you do an invisible fungus."

Come on, Bones. Give me some signs here. I don't know if I need to play it safe and hug the base or if I'm free to advance. When she didn't say anything, Booth sighed. Fine. Be that way. He then gave her ass one more strong squeeze before he emphasized his words with a raised brow and a quick, sardonic jerk of his head, then stood up, and began to walk away.

Brennan stared, surprised at his unexpected dismissal, and felt a surge of annoyance flare in her as he so casually walked away—especially after he'd squeezed her ass a second time. What the hell, Booth? Are you really going to do that and think you can just walk away from me? Really? Narrowing her eyes at his receding form, she pursed her lips. She struggled for a way to call him back to her without letting him know how much his seemingly random denial of her had actually bothered her. However, as his body continued to fade from sight, Brennan knew that if she didn't say something soon that he'd be gone. And, for some reason that she wasn't quite ready to admit to herself at that very moment in time, she wasn't ready for him to be gone yet. Turning around in her chair, she placed her hands on her thighs as she spoke a single word, her voice clear as she beckoned him to return back to her.

"Booth."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, as if she'd uttered some kind of spell, Booth stopped, spun on his heels, and turned around. He didn't move for several long seconds before he replied, "Yeah, Bones?"

"Can you come here for a moment, please?" she asked almost prettily.

Booth narrowed his eyes, contemplating her request as he smirked to himself, and then nodded. Placing the elf's hat back on his head, he adjusted it so that it sat at a playful angle, and then swaggered back to her.

"You rang?" he asked merrily, smirking at his own wit.

Looking at him carefully, Brennan said, "I have a question for you."

"Shoot, Bones," Booth said, crossing his arms expectantly. "Whatcha wanna know?"

"What I want to know is this," she said, her words coming slowly and evenly. "You said I should have faith in God like I do in the drugs I take because I might or might not have contracted Valley Fever, didn't you?"

"Yeah, so?" he returned, somewhat disappointed at her obvious question. Okay, Bones. That was pretty easy. You sure you don't want to try to hit me with something a bit harder, or what? After all, I'm the one, the only Special Agent Seeley Joseph Booth, and I'm here to impress all the ladies—even you. "Anything else you wanna know?"

Laughing slightly, Brennan shook her head as she said, "That wasn't my question, Booth."

"But, it was a question," he told her. "It was a question, not a statement, Bones. So why didn't you just say you wanted me to answer two questions instead of lying to me and saying that you just had one question you wanted to ask me?"

"I didn't lie," she snapped, suddenly annoyed again at his snippyness.

"Sure," Booth interrupted her. "Of course, you did. You said that you had a question for me. Then, you asked me if I said that you should have faith in God like you do in the funny meds they gave us because we might've gotten the fever or not because of the Bugman's drinking problem. I answered yes. So, that would've had to have been your question or else you lied because if you asked another question then I'd be answering more than one question. So, yeah." Booth stopped, tilted his head as he considered his rambling explanation and then nodded in confirmation as he seemed pleased with the way he'd verbalized his logic. "Yeah, that's it."

"That's it?" Brennan asked in clear disbelief. "That made absolutely no damn sense, Booth—none at all."

"Don't know what you're talking about, Bones," Booth said with a smile as he shook his head in denial. "That made total sense to me."

"Yes, well, considering the fact that you barely make any sense on a good day, I think we need to admit that I'm the expert in logic and rational explanations, and I say it doesn't," she laughed. "Not at all."

"Not my problem, Bones, if you can't keep up," he said. "Now, unless there's anything else, I'm gonna go."

"But, wait," Brennan said, the small hitch in her voice catching Booth's attention.

"Yeah, Bones?" he grinned.

Rolling her eyes, Brennan said, "I need you to tell me something please."

"Sure," he replied as he smiled a sly smile at her. "What do you want me to tell you?"

"Why should I have the same faith in God, in the scenario you described, as I do in medication that I know will work if I have contracted the fever? It's not really a question of faith, you know, if I'm just taking precautions," Brennan said. "So, can you tell me why me having belief in a fictional deity, who by the very fact that he doesn't exist would have no ability to influence the outcome of events, would somehow be the equivalent?"

His jaw tensing, Booth pursed his lips as he felt a bit of anger displace the euphoria he'd spent the last several hours embracing. "Don't do that," he told her firmly, lifting his chin defiantly as he stared at her and only concentrated on her final words.

"Don't do what?" she asked, a bit taken aback at his display of angry.

"You damn well know what," he growled as he took a step towards her and wagged his finger in a clear gesture of warning. "Don't you dare insult God. Not on His birthday. It's not a nice thing to do." He leveled a hard stare at her. "It's mean, Bones. It's just plain mean, so cut it out."

"Then, you're saying that I can insult God on any other day, and you won't complain about it?" Brennan countered, allowing herself to react to the aggressiveness in Booth's voice. "Because, if so, I'm willing to trade both the 24th and 25th of December if you'll shut up about the existence of so-called magical omnipotent beings for the other 363 days of the year."

Booth took another step towards her as he said, "What happened to just 'taking precautions,' Bones? What about being on the safe side of things, huh?"

"First, not all things have sides as some things are geometrically shaped with curves. Second, if said objects do have any sides, as there is no way to determine which ones might accurately be described in a so-called way as being 'safe,' to use your eponymous descriptor, I fail to see why me having a belief in the arbitrary magic man of monotheistic religions is any more useful than me taking the antibiotics."

"Because, Bones," Booth said, shaking his head, as he ignored her entire commentary on geometry. "If you're wrong, you'll go to hell. Ya know, hell? H-E-double hockey sticks?"

"I'm not certain," she said with a thread of caution in her voice, "but if hell does exist, I think I'd rather spend eternity in hell than in a heaven where the only people who've been admitted are of one denominational faith—like the Mormons."

Booth raised his eyebrows, deep lines running across his forehead as he tried to follow her.

"I once spent a summer with several archaeologists from Brigham Young University," she explained. "And, they were all members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, and while they were all very nice and kind and polite people, I found them all to be quite odd. They smiled at me all the time, never acted in an upset or negative manner whatsoever, called me Sister Temperance the entire dig season, spent all their free time drinking non-caffeinated beverages, and played board games for an inordinate amount of time. And, not the mildly interesting, turn-by-turn strategic games, either. All their free time was spent playing idiotic mundane trivia games night after night. So, if those are the type of people I have to spend eternity with, while I'm sure they're very nice and happy people, I think I'd rather go to hell," Brennan finished. "At least, I feel fairly safe in saying, things would be more interesting there."

For a moment, Booth thought of that old Billy Joel song.

They say there's a heaven for those who will wait
Some say it's better but I say it ain't
I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints
The sinners are much more fun...

A grin cracked across his face briefly as he thought about the night of his high school prom and the time he'd spent in the back seat of his Chevelle with his prom date, Linda Travis, and how that song had crackled across the radio while they were—well. Heh, heh. What a night that was. She didn't mind it when I put my hand on her ass, either. Just like Bones. Hmmm—I wanna do that again, like now. Right now. But, not just her ass, I think. Booth stared at Brennan and suddenly noticed how ripe and round her breasts looked in her blue tank top. Yeah. I want to touch her tits, too. Now. Right now. Because groping Bones is cool. Yeah, really cool.

"Wait a minute, Bones," he said, as he tried to shift the conversation into a topic that would allow him to place himself in close physical proximity to Brennan once more so that he could reach out and cop another feel. "What are you trying to say? You 're not saying you don't want to go to Heaven if it mean being there with people like me? 'Cause, since I've always been such a good boy, I know I'm definitely going to heaven and not going to hell."

"If heaven and hell actually exist, there's no way for you to know that you're going to one or the other, Booth," Brennan said with a shake of her head.

"Uh huh," Booth nodded firmly. "There is, too."

"Oh, really?" Brennan retorted. "And, what is that?"

"Because I'm always a perfect angel," Booth said as he wagged his eyebrows at her. "So, now that we've got that out of the way, and since I know I'm definitely going to heaven, let's go back to talking about us, huh? Because I kinda thought we had a good thing going here, Bones. And, well, I mean, it's not quite like spending eternity with me, but I figured you, well, wouldn't mind spending eternity with me. I mean, I'm a good guy, and I'm a lot of fun, ya know. So you're saying you don't want to go to Heaven because there'll be people like me, and most importantly and most specifically me, there—?"

Sensing that Booth was saying something without saying it, Brennan sighed as she shook her head and said, "Let's be direct, Booth. I think the more accurate thing that you're trying to ask me, in your extremely convoluted and very roundabout way, Booth, is if I want to—what is the phrase? You want to know if I want to have 'Seven Minutes in Heaven' with you, isn't it?"

Booth arched an eyebrow at her and smiled. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off as she continued.

"Right, Booth. That's what you want to know, isn't it?"

"Maybe," Booth nodded. "And, what if it is, Bones?"

"Well," she countered. "If it is—" she paused and then smirked at him. "The answer is no."

Booth shrugged with a grin knowing that she was clearly lying. You are such a liar, Bones. Liar liar, hot ass pants on fire. "Well, that's a pity, because it'd be the best seven damn minutes of your life, Bones. I can just about guarantee that."

Brennan blinked at him several times and then narrowed her eyes. He thinks I'm lying. Damn it. How does he know that I'm lying? "While your arrogance is neither surprising nor unanticipated, given your monotheistic defense of the would-be savior born of a mother who gave birth to an illegitimate child, I'm sure that's one guarantee that you'd be unable to deliver on, Booth." She stopped, looked at him, and then nodded with a sly smile as she decided to twist the proverbial knife a bit. Let's see what you can do with that one, right, Booth? "Yes, I'm fairly certain that not only would you not be able to deliver on it, but I wouldn't even need to worry about you potentially coming close to fulfilling your offer. So, it's really a moot point—"

"Oh," he said, leaning his head to the side. This isn't a moot point. I didn't say it was a moot point, so it's not a moot point until I say so, huh. Fine. Game on. "So, right, Ms. Sciency Evidence lady. You can think that—"

"Oh, I do," she replied as she tilted her chin at him. "I definitely do."

"So then," Booth countered. "Ms. Queen of the Squints, do you want to test that theory of yours or what? Because without testing your little theory, it's no more true than the God Myth that you're always harping on me about, huh?"

"I don't think that's necessary, Booth," Brennan said with a quick shake of her head as she smiled at him. What are you playing at, Booth? She stopped, her head spinning a bit as some of the muted lights in the lab suddenly seemed very bright. Taking a deep breath, Brennan was hit with an overwhelmingly powerful male scent as she realized Booth's aftershave, deodorant and body odor had mixed together in a pungent scent that made her skin tingle a bit. Fine, Brennan thought in a very faraway and slow manner as compared with her normally quick thought processes. Fine. But, let's see how far you're willing to go because there's no point if you're not going to make this thing worth my while. "As a matter of fact, I'm fairly certain it's not."

"Wait," Booth said with a patient shake of his head. "Isn't science all about the search for knowledge? It doesn't have to be important, right, Bones? It's just the knowledge itself that is important."

"Yes," she agreed, suddenly not realizing why Booth seemed to know something about science that she didn't. When did that happen? Because Booth isn't smarter than me—not at all. No. Nope. Nada. No. "But, as such potential topics for research are endless, scientists have to prioritize." Huh, that sounded pretty good. Now, if I only knew what in the hell I just said...but, wait. Why is Booth looking at me like that...especially looking at my tits like that? Huh... "And, anyway—like I was saying, right now, I see no reason I should prioritize you—because, frankly, I'm just not that interested." Yeah, that's a lie—a blatant lie. But, let's see what he does with it.

Booth laughed. "Riiigght," he said with a sneer. "That's why you were checking out my ass when the guys from CDC were giving us those horrible pain in the ass shots."

"Oh, are we back to that one already?" Brennan said as she rolled her eyes. "I thought I already explained this, Booth. I was merely responding to your overture," Brennan explained. "You were the one that was taking a grossly and unnecessarily long time to pull your pants back up. It didn't take Dr. Goodman or Hodgins or Zach the same amount of time to re-dress themselves. So, you can hardly blame me when I take note of the deviation from the pattern of behavior established by the other males in the lab and take a quick peek at what was going on down there."

"Heh," he chuckled. Yeah, I've got something going on down there that you can check out anytime you want, Bones. So, yeah, but wait— "Wait, Bones."

"Yeah, Booth?" Brennan blinked at him, her gaze softening a bit in a way that surprised Booth slightly given her snarky comments and normally snippy personality.

"Are you're saying you were watching Goodman, Hodgins and Zach pull down their pants?" Booth questioned as he made a face. "Because, well, if it was just me that you were checking out, like I said, I totally get that part since I have such a great ass, but you were checking all of us out, huh? Because, if that's true, it's kinda wrong, Bones. It's wrong on a number of levels because the other three squints are so not hot—no offense intended to them anyway, but none of them are like me, so yeah."

Rolling her eyes at him, Brennan shook her head as she realized she was making a habit of doing that where Booth was concerned. "I'm just observant, Booth," she replied. "You should try it some time." She paused and then added, "Besides, if anyone was checking anyone's ass out, I think we both know who it was, and it wasn't me."

"Are you saying that Zach was checking out my ass?" Booth arched an eyebrow at her. "Because if he was, you need to tell that Vulcan that I'm not really interested. He's not my type. In fact, if he was checking me out, I may just have to kick his ass."

Biting back a laugh, Brennan suddenly decided that she'd had enough of their banter stalling things. If we're going to do something here, let's do it, Booth. What? Do you need some encouragement? Fine. "Then, who is your type?" she asked, leaning into him just a bit. Her eyes had glazed over a bit as she tilted her head at him. "I only ask for scientific reasons, you understand. My question's purely for the sake of obtaining knowledge about this potential situation here, of course," she clarified.

"What 'potential situation' are you talking about here, Bones?" Booth asked with a smile. "Because I dunno what you mean, Bones. There isn't any potential situation here—is there?"

"I believe you were the one who insinuated that with enough time you could make it the 'best damn time' of my life," Brennan replied. "In fact, I seem to recall you guaranteed it."

"I did," he replied proudly. "And I stand behind that guarantee—but, that wouldn't matter to you unless you've changed your mind about testing out that little theory of ours, huh, Bones?"

"That depends, Booth," Brennan responded quickly.

"On what?" he countered.

"On the answers to my two questions," she told him with a firm nod.

Booth's face broke into a dopey grin as he considered her words. "Um, what two questions were those? I kinda lost track."

"First," Brennan said with her eyes narrowed at him. "Are you going to admit that you were the one that was checking out my ass...and that you liked it?"

He rolled his eyes as he shook his head. I'm not admitting that until you tell me you were checking me out. "Hey, Bones, we're not playing Jeopardy, but those sure sound like answers, not questions." He winked. "Or, like Caroline would say, you're leading the witness there."

Fine, Booth, Brennan thought. I guess that answers my question then. You can't say I didn't try. "Very well," she said, standing up. "Then, seeing as how it appears you have no intention of answering my first question, there's no reason for me to ask my second question. And, the answer to your question is that no, I apparently will not be changing my mind about testing out any Booth-related theories this evening despite a momentary consideration of the alternative. I will, however, be going to bed now." Brennan shrugged. "Goodnight, Booth," she said as she turned to walk past him on the platform.

Wait. Where are you going? Are you leaving, Bones? Because, you can't leave. We're not done here, yet. "Aw, come on, Bones," Booth said in a mocking plea. "You're the big brainiac mad lady scientist, but you're not being very brainiacical about this." He raised his eyebrows as he watched her walk away when his words apparently had no effect on her. Oh, fuck, Bones. Fine. "I've been checking out your ass for a while now, Bones," he said, calling after her.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Brennan stopped walking. She slowly turned around and looked at Booth. She arched an eyebrow at him.

He grinned back at her again. "That's right. Unlike some people, I can admit things when I have to, Bones. I've been checking your ass out for a while, I just can't believe you just figured it out." He stopped and then chuckled as he added, "What was the giveaway—my hands on your ass or what?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I would say that it not only was a giveaway when your hands were on my ass, but said 'checking out' extended to when you had your hands down my pants about twenty minutes ago, right?" She paused and then inclined her head at him as she asked, "Or, was that something different?"

"I was doing lab work, Bones." He grinned while giving her what he thought was quite a scientific explanation. "You know, as in hands-on analysis of the data."

"I'm unaware of what type of data can be gleaned from your hands on my ass, Booth," Brennan replied simply. "Care to share?"

"Well, I haven't, uhhhh, compiled all the figures yet, err, but it seems from the preliminary data that, yeah," Booth told her sheepishly. "But, you have a pretty nice ass there, Bones. Very tight and very fucking sexy. And, FYI, I'm very interested in gathering some additional data in order to, uhhh, to confirm those findings ASAP."

Brennan swallowed a smile as she considered his explanation. "So, would that be your way of answering my second question from earlier, Booth?" she asked.

Booth blushed a little, and felt like the boy in school who had been busted for not paying attention in class. "Uh, wait—what was the second question again, Bones?"

Taking a step towards him with a dangerous leer on her face, Brennan said, "I asked what your type was, Booth."

"Wait a minute," he said. "I thought the second question was whether I liked your ass after I checked it out. And, like ol' Caroline says, that one's already been 'asked and answered', Bones." Booth smiled, satisfied that he had won at least this set of his little game of tennis with Brennan.

She shook her head, closed her eyes and sighed in exasperation. "I know this is difficult, but try to keep up with me, Booth—"

"Bones," he said. "I have no doubt I can keep up with you—the real question is can you keep up with me?"

"Then, you would know that the inquiry about my ass was one question with two parts," Brennan told him. "The second, separate question that addressed an unrelated issue was the next question I asked. Now—" She stopped and placed her hands on her hips as she stared at him. "Do you want to answer that one or not?"

Booth blinked a couple of times as he tried to catch up with Brennan's wordiness and formulate an appropriate response. He ran his hand through his hair as he finally realized what she was asking. Oh, right. Heh heh. I'm with you now, Bones. "So, uhhh, you want to know if you're my type?"

"I didn't say that," she replied a bit too quickly with a sharp shake of her head. "I merely inquired as to the type of individual who qualified for classification and inclusion into that grouping."

"Hmmm," Booth said, scratching his head. "Gee, I guess, well, I guess I'd say I like hot, smart women." He let his voice trail off as he looked at her under heavy lidded eyes. He nodded and added, "Yeah, I'd say that's about right—hot, smart, women who've got really tight asses."

Brennan blinked at his words and then dropped her hands. Nodding at him, she said, "Good to know." She then smiled and said, "Night, Booth."

She barely took a step before Booth reached out and placed his hand lightly on her arm.

"Wait, Bones," he said quickly.

"Yes, Booth?" she replied, stopping since he was still touching her. Wow, that feels really nice. But, what do I have to do to get you to touch more than just my arm, huh, Booth?

"So what about that little, you know, experiment thingie we were talking about?" Booth nodded at her. " I mean, I answered your questions."

Tilting her head at him, she nodded, "Yes, yes, you did answer my questions."

"Well, then, there you go, Bones. I kept up my end of the bargain. So, what about you?" he asked expectantly, almost as if he were a child, expecting her to make good on a promise she'd made to reward him for good behavior.

"I didn't know we'd formally made any actual agreements, Booth," Brennan began. But, wait, What the hell—maybe we need to...so, yeah. Why not?

"What about wait there, Bones. You said that your interest in testing that guarantee depended on my answer to your two, well really three, questions. Your questions have been answered." Booth raised his eyebrows as he paused. "So how about answering mine?" he asked her.

"Okay," Brennan nodded. This is getting way too complicated. It's time to simplify things.

"So, you wanna test that little theory of yours, Ms. Beaker?" Booth said.

Brennan blinked at him, clearly not understanding the Muppet reference.

"I don't know, Booth," she began. "I think that's my answer, too."

Making a face, Booth snorted, "That's no answer."

"Yes, it is, Booth," Brennan replied. "But, that's the beautiful thing of a conditional response—unless the conditions are met to my full satisfaction, I don't have to do something really foolish and blindly comply with anything you want me to do," she chuckled. And, since we know that won't be happening unless I know exactly what I'm getting into ahead of time, well, yeah— She then looked up at him and said, "Because, if I do that, then the next thing you know I'll be doing something really, really stupid like professing my belief in an omnipotent, omniscient deity."

"Ahh," he said. "I see how it is. Playing a little hard to get there, Bones?"

"No," Brennan immediately protested.

"Yes," Booth nodded. "You totally are."

"No, I'm not," she insisted.

"Yeah, you are," he said with a curt nod. "You definitely are, Bones, and well, that only leads to one thing—hard to get leads to hard up."

"I don't think there's anything hard around here, Booth," she stopped and then snickered, "Except for maybe your head—metaphorically, of course."

"Well," he said with a crooked grin. "I can assure you that, when the time comes to do that little experiment thingie, I'm doing my best to make sure all the necessary lab equipment is teed up, in good working order, and all ready to go once you give the word, Bones. So, we're just waiting on you, FYI—"

Brennan shook her head with a sharp laugh as she said, "You're so arrogant."

"Me?" he said, pointing his thumb at his chest. "You think I'm arrogant?"

"Yes, I do." Brennan shot him a mock glare. "Moreover, do you really think you can just prance up to my lab platform, wearing that hat, smile that smile of yours, and then you can get me to do your bidding, Booth?" she asked.

"Do my bidding?" He laughed loudly. "Hardly," he said with a quick shake of his head. "I can't get you to do crap. I never have, and I probably never will. I just made an offer to resolve a certain, well, uncertainty you seemed to be struggling with there, my little Dr. Sexysmarts."

"I can assure you," she replied, ignoring his compliment. "I'm not struggling with any conundrum about you, Booth, despite your prior claims that I'm in denial about anything related to that topic."

"If you're so certain, then why'd you let me touch your ass, Bones? I mean, any other guy who tried that would end up with a broken arm. Why are you so accommodating to me, huh?" He smiled as he stared into her eyes, nodded, and suddenly snapped his fingers. "Wait a second. Hold the presses, there. I've got it."

"Oh?" Brennan asked.

"Yup," he grinned. "And, here it is, Bones—you like me."

She smiled at him. "Not at all, Booth."

"You do, too, Bones," Booth said. "Admit it. You like me. You really like me—and you think I'm sexy as hell. So, come on...just say it. You know you want to—"

"No," Brennan chuckled. You are sexy. But, if I tell you that, I'll never hear the end of it. Nope, never. So, I can't help you out on that one, there, Booth. "None of that's true, Booth. I'm merely—" Her voice trailed off a bit before she gave him an evil smile in a flash of epiphany. "I'm just a very accommodating person. It's in my nature, really."

"Oh yeah," he snorted. "Very accommodating, huh?"

"Yes," Brennan nodded. "That's correct."

"So, you were just being real accommodating of that federal judge when you socked him in the nose, right?" Booth asked.

"Yes," she smiled. "That's right."

"You were so accommodating him, you did it twice, huh, Bones?" Booth closed one eye and looked at her hard with the other. "So, lemme ask you this: so if Goodman or Hodgins came around and put their hands down your pants, would you be equally accommodating to them?"

"Ha," Brennan retorted. "That's a good one, Booth. Quite amusing. But, since we both know they'd never actually behave in such a way. It's a moot point. Really, you're the only one who's arrogant enough around here to actually do that, Booth."

"Huh," he grunted. He narrowed his eyes and looked at her. "So, what you're saying is, you're pretty accommodating of my arrogant nature."

"Yes," she agreed. "I've a very thoughtful person that way, aren't I, Booth?"

"Yeah, you're just too sweet, Bones," he blinked at her and then narrowed his eyes in a hungry gaze. Screw this. I've had enough of the cat-and-mouse games, Bones. If we're going to do something here, let's do it. "So, if you're interested, I have some ideas about other ways you might be able to accommodate me—and, since you're so accommodating, I figure they won't be a problem, right, Bones?"

"Maybe," Brennan nodded. "It depends on what they are."

"So, would you like to discuss those accommodations, Bones?" Booth asked.

"I believe I'm already listening to you, Booth," she said with a shrug. "And, it's not like I've ever been able to shut you up when you wanted to say something before, so I think the answer is I'm 'all ears'—as the saying goes."

"Well," he began. "You know, 'cause being around you squinty types really has helped me better understand, you know, the sciency way you approach problems, I'd think it would be a really good idea, and I'd really like to do that experiment we were discussing earlier."

Ahh, Brennan thought. So, there we are. Finally. "If you want something from me, Booth, then just ask me," she said with a shake of her head.

Booth took a couple of steps toward her with a cocky smile on his lips and a distinct laughter in his eyes. "Well, hey, Bones. It's been a long time since I've been in school, ya know. And, well, I was kind of hoping you might be able to help me design this little experimenty thing. I mean, since you're the expert here."

"You want me to be your teacher, Booth?" she asked him tilting her head as she noted how he'd closed the personal space between them. "Is that it?"

"Well," he said, raising an eyebrow. "I have always had this fantasy about you and the whole sexy teacher thing, but for now, I was thinking we'd stick with the hypothesis I have that I really do think needs to be tested. And, as good as I am, I do know this is a two-person job, so I know I'm gonna need some help designing and doing the experiment..." At least until we get to the part where I'm doing you. Heh.

"Fine," Brennan said, nodded, her eyes darkening as she took a breath before continuing. "Okay. Then, as your instructor, for the purposes of 'designing the experiment', the first thing you need to understand is that any valid experiment has a predetermined set of ground rules."

"How can you set the ground rules if you don't know what hypothesis I'm trying to test?" Booth suddenly asked.

She laughed at his words. "I believe you said I was the expert, Booth, so give me a little credit here, huh?" She then took a step towards him and tapped her index finger on the area of his chest near where his St. Christopher medal fell onto the white fabric of his undershirt. "Even if I don't know the specifics, I think I've got a pretty good idea about the topic which inspired your hypothesis. So—" She paused and then added, "Unless you really expect me to believe that your brilliant idea for a hypothesis doesn't relate to you getting to touch some part of my anatomy in fairly short order, I think we're good, right?"

Booth narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, it's something like that," he admitted. "So, does that mean you have an idea of how we can design a nifty experiment here?"

"Like I said, Booth," Brennan said. "Each valid experiment has a set of ground rules, or control if you prefer the more scientific terminology."

"I like control," he quipped.

"I'm sure you do," Brennan responded tartly. "Not that that's surprising to me in the slightest, by the way." She stopped and then asked, "So, do you agree?"

"Wait," Booth said, tensing a bit as he realized she might be tricking him into something. "What am I agreeing to? Because I'm not the type of schmuck who just signs his soul away on the dotted line without reading the terms of the deal, Bones. So, yeah, I agree that we need ground rules. But, first, what are they?"

"Well, I suppose that depends on how far you want to take this," Brennan said, swaying slightly in front of him. She blinked as some of the low lights from the lab caught her attention, sending a slight pain into her eyes again that made her blink a few more times before she pushed away the shininess. Wow, those are kind of neat. I don't think I've ever realized how interesting the refraction is. Huh. Focusing again on Booth, Brennan said in a huskier tone of voice than she'd meant to speak in, "How far do you want to go?"

As far as we can take it, Bones—Booth thought to himself. And, then some. "Well, in the interests of science and knowledge, Bones, I'm willing to go all the way." He stopped, paused, and added, "Are you?" He then didn't wait for her to respond before he grinned at her again as he said, "Besides, it's the Big Man's birthday, so it'll be fun to do something—well, festive, ya know?"

Rolling her eyes at him, Brennan suddenly felt as if he'd ruined the mood by mentioning religion again. Sighing a familiar sigh, she backed away a bit as she said, "Oh, here we go again. Why do you always have to bring up God, Booth? He doesn't relate to every damn situation in life."

"No," he acknowledged. "But, to be fair, the kind of experiment I'm thinking of, well, I think His name will come up while we're doing the lab work—at least, He will if we're doing what we're supposed to be doing. In fact, I'm pretty sure I can see you bringing His name up, Bones."

"Meaning?" Brennan asked, confused about the link between deities and sex that was apparently alluding her, but that Booth was apparently quite keen on.

He paused, glancing up to the steel framework above the platform and the braid of tiny lights that had been wrapped around the tubing. Wow, those look like stars. Pretty twinkle twinkle, little star stars. How pretty. Like Bones. She's pretty. No, she's not just pretty. She's hot—so fucking hot. And, I bet she's even hotter when she's having sex. Yeah, I wanna know what she looks like then, right before she comes. I bet it's fucking beautiful. Oh, yeah, wait. That's right. She needs to scream before she can come and— Suddenly, like the Grinch before he decided to steal Christmas from Who-ville, an evil grin twisted Booth's lips. Now, that's a brilliant friggin' idea. Heh heh. Alright— "Okay, Bones, here it is," Booth began.

"I'm still listening, Booth," Brennan waited patiently.

"Okay," Booth said. "So, I bet I can get you to bring up God, Bones. I bet I can make you cry God's name, and I'm pretty sure I can get it done before the sun comes up in the morning."

"Now, that would be a Christmas miracle," Brennan snorted as she laughed at his words.

"Heh, well," he said with a smirk. "That's no miracle, Bones, because I'm me, and it's all a part of my mad skills, Bones. So, I know for a firm fact that I can guarantee I can get you to scream the name of God before breakfast tomorrow."

"No, you can't," Brennan said. "It'll never happen—no way."

"Okay," he said. "Well, prove it, Bones. So I have a hypothesis, and there it is. Now, it's time to put it to the test, so let's get on with the experiment. What are those ground rules, Ms. Senior Hot Squint, huh? Because that's what comes next, right?"

Wait, Brennan thought to herself. If he thinks he can make me scream, that means we'll be doing something sexual when it happens, so that's a good thing. Say 'yes' right now, idiot! Crossing her arms across her chest, she quickly nodded as she said, "Fine. In the interests of knowledge, fine."

"Is this your way of giving me the word then, Bones?" Booth laughed.

"As soon as we agree to the controls, Booth, yes," Brennan nodded. "You can consider the word given."

"Awesome," Booth said. "So, what are the terms?"

"You get three shots—three chances before morning, just to keep things realistic," she said. "When, where, how, and in what way is up to you," she explained. "But, if I climax, that means one of your turns is gone. Agreed?"

"Three at-bats?" he asked, noting the blank, non-plussed expression in her eyes at the reference. "Yeah, I can handle that," he nodded, ignoring her incomprehension of the sports metaphor. " Three tries, that's fine with me."

"And, after the third try when you fail, that means you won't lecture me about God or any aspect related to religion for at least three months...one for each time you fail," Brennan specified.

Booth looked at her skeptically. "So, wait—if I win, and get you to scream God's name, you win because, well, I got you to scream God's name when you came. If I lose, you still win, so I don't really see how that's at all fair, Bones."

"You never specified the experiment had to be fair, Booth," Brennan smirked. "You only implied that it needed to have a sexual component."

"I don't know, Bones," Booth shook his head. "The whole me not 'lecturing you on God'—and I don't lecture you, by the way, I just correct you when you're wrong like you are about religion, and always have been, too, while we're on the subject—"

"See?" Brennan said, interrupting him as she pointed her finger at him. "That's what I don't want to hear, Booth."

"But, it's true," he blinked at her. "And, if I'm going to let you swim in your self-delusions for a minimum of one month, and for as possibly as much as three months, that's a lot for me to give up and deal with so, I gotta ask, what else is in it for me here, Bones?"

"Fine," Brennan said, quickly trying to think of something that would tempt Booth. Aside, from, you know, the fact that we'd be having sex, Booth, which I don't think is too bad for you. Hmmm.—so if I get to come because of you, maybe I can counter with getting you to come? A blow job? Wait—no. If I do that, you'll just think I want you to boss me around, so no. That won't work. Hmmmm... After another minute, inspiration struck again as she said, "Okay, Booth, then how about this? You get me to scream your god's name, aside from bragging rights—"

"I don't brag," Booth interrupted her.

"Riiiiggghhht," Brennan said. "Well, whether you use them or not, you'd still have them." She stopped and then said, "And, besides that, I won't insult your religion or your god for the same amount of time that you'd have to shut up about religion if you win...three months if you get it on the first try, two months on the second, etc."

"I still don't see why that's a good deal for me," he said slowly contemplating her offer. "I mean, you shouldn't be insulting my religion, as a matter of common decency."

"Oh, whatever, Booth," Brennan sighed. She then leered as she noted how sexy he looked in his white undershirt. Why do I think you'd look much better without that white shirt covering your torso's musculature, huh? Yeah. You need to take that off. Right now. You need to get naked right now, Booth, so hmmmm... "Who said I had common decency, anyway?" She muttered. "It's highly overrated." Seeing the fact that Booth was still unimpressed, she tried again. "Fine, then how about this—I'll write a check in a significant amount to donate to the religious institution of your choice in your name. How about that?"

"Hmmmmm," Booth murmured, wondering whether he would have fewer Hail Marys to say if the conduct which he was having to confess led to a generous contribution to the diocese. He chased the thought away with a shake of his head. "You'd really do that?"

"Of course," Brennan said. "Especially since it won't be necessary. But, you have my word in the slim possibility that you actually do manage to pull of things like you think you can, Booth."

Frowning, her partner responded, clearly latching onto her earlier mutterings, "If you don't have common decency, what good is your word, anyway, Bones? The answer is, it's not. It's squat, so I don't know how I feel about this whole thing—" Except that I'm really sick of talking, and hearing you talk, and I'd just like to get naked with you. Immediately, if not sooner. Because I need to touch your ass...and your tits. I haven't forgotten about those, by the way. Those are gonna be first on my priority to-do list as soon as I get your shirt off of you. Off the shirt goes, straight to your tits go my hands. Just FYI, especially since I know they're going to be so fucking awesome—

Pursing her lips together, she snapped, "Now that's just a lousy thing to say, Booth." Shaking her head at him, she said, "You know what, you can say a lot of things about me, but I've never been disingenuous or dishonorable. So, you know what? I think maybe you can just take your dumb ass experiment idea and shove it—"

"Okay, okay," he said, holding his hands up when he realized he'd hit a nerve. "You were the one that said you didn't have common decency, but anyways, you're right—you've never been dishonest with me—"

"Or anyone," Brennan cut him of sharply.

"Right," he said with a shrug. Sorry? All better now? "So, look, do we have a deal?"

"Not unless you apologize for making that asinine comment," she said with a firm shake of her head, clearly still offended by his words. There's no way you're getting near me if you think I'm a liar, Booth. What the hell? Where did that even come from anyway?

Sensing she was genuinely hurt and that her anger wasn't just a by-product of their flirt-bickering, Booth immediately felt a tad guilty. Nodding at her, his face softened as he tried to appease her ire. "I'm sorry 'bout that, Bones," he said, reaching out and putting his hand on her forearm. "It was a crappy thing to say. Sorry, Bones."

"I don't lie, Booth," she scoffed.

"And I said I'm sorry," he said, a slight edginess creeping into his voice. "I'm sorry. I apologize."

"Yes, you apologized, but how do I know you didn't really mean it?" Brennan retorted, a small amount of indignant hurt still clear in her eyes. "How do I know that, huh?"

"Are you challenging my honesty and integrity now, Bones?" he replied. This is not going to get us to the naked part if we start arguing for real here. So... Running his free hand through his hair, Booth flashed her a smile as he said softly, "Look, why don't we just both acknowledge that we're both honest, decent people here, alright?"

"The definition of common decency as you employ it does not necessarily have a mutual exclusivity with honesty, Booth," she said. "And, if you were ever fortunate enough to benefit from some of my close, personal supervision in certain learning situations, you'd find that was actually a benefit when compared to some people who are quite hypocritical in certain aspects of their lives." She stopped and then added, "I believe you'd find me to be quite uninhibited as a matter of fact."

"Well," he said with a wicked grin. She's talking about uninhibited behavior, and we all know that's code for sex. Amazing, mind-blowingly fucking hot sex. Wait...that's redundant. Wait...who gives a shit. Game on. Ha! "You know I'm a creative, resourceful guy with a good gut sense. I think you'll find that to be the case in all parts of my life, Bones."

"I suppose we'll just see about that," she said as she frowned at him and took a step closer. Raising her hand to his head, she reached up and let her fingers trace the skin of his neck until it reached the elf hat and yanked it off. Tossing it on the ground, she took a step closer and wrapped her hands around the back of his head. "I'm still angry with you, just so you know."

"I'm sure you'll get over it," he said in a low voice, tilting his head a little and looking at her with dark, heavy-lidded eyes.

"We'll see," she said, taking a moment to press her body up against his before she let her hands fall away, and she stepped backwards. "Well just see about that."

"Game on, Bones," Booth nodded at her with a lascivious glint in his eyes. "Game fucking on."

To be continued

Well, folks. That was Part I. Kinda sexy and, well, a little festive. Bit of a long chapter, but hopefully worth it.

So everyone likes a little bit of stoned!Booth like we saw in 1x09 (because he was so cute and funny in that episode) but we never got to see how that antifungal cocktail affected Brennan. Well, because we believe it our solemn duty to give you folks what HH and Company left out, we wanted to offer a peek at what stoned!Brennan would've looked like that night and, well, what might've happened if a stoned!Booth and stoned!Brennan collided in a quiet, dark lab.

So, Part II will bring us the first part of the challenge. Who's playing checkers and who's playing chess? Wouldn't you like to know? Of course you do. So, you wanna see how this goes? You really do, because we've got all sorts of festive tingle waiting for you, plus extra bonus moments of fetish (heh, anyone wanna see us riff on Booth's five seconds of pull-ups?) thrown in for good measure, naughty elves and other sorts of holiday cheer. But you've gotta be nice before we can give you the naughty, okay?

You know what to do. Click that little review button down there. Yes, that's the one.

Please. In the spirit of the holidays. Let us know what you think.