Author's Note: Now, I know: not everyone goes around nude all the time. But, I mean, come on. Let's have a little fun, yeah? This one was hard to write, but it happens. By the way? P? Now that's a letter I'm looking forward to!

Setting: Whenever.

Summary: A very brief insight to an interesting case.

Naturism
The custom of wearing no clothing; communal nudism.

"No."

"But Booth, it's the only way that this group of people will trust us! Anthropologists always blend into the society that they are studying as not to disrupt their way of life, and to gain their trust. Don't you see that—"

"No, Bones. Just, no."

Brennan turned towards Sweets for support. Instead, the young psychologist's eyes were practically bulging out of his head and his skin was sheet white. "I... you... uh..." Clearly there was no way that he was getting involved.

"Booth, be rational," she tried, turning back to her partner. One hand was on his hip while the other rubbed at his eyes, a telltale sign that he was starting to get angry. "You and I both know that this is the only way to catch this guy. We tried getting a warrant, but the judge ruled that there wasn't enough evidence. If we were to go undercover, we could expose the human trafficking ring and catch the killer."

Finally, he stopped pacing and met her eyes. "Bones, we are not going undercover in a nudist colony."

Hip cocked, she evenly replied, "Naturism is nothing unusual, Booth. As a matter of fact, the custom of wearing clothing is more unnatural than the lack of it. Ancient tribes in…"

Here we go, Booth thought, shooting a glare at Sweets for not backing him up.

"Look at all of the different human interactions, Booth!"

The FBI agent rolled his eyes and adjusted his position as to cover more of himself, unlike his partner who seemed to be enjoying her new found freedom. "Yeah. Real interesting that people living in a civilized country actually walk around naked," he muttered, low enough for her not to hear.

Not that she would have, anyways. This study was proving quite fascinating for her, absorbing her entire focus. Various times, as they sat on the picnic bench in the colony's park, she had tried to point out various "anthropological finds." All he wanted was for her to point out their murderer so they could both put some clothes on.

Needing a safe place to look, he stared down at his arms. Noticing the slight pink flush of his skin, he asked without thinking, "Did you at least put sunscreen on, Bones?" The father in him hoped she did, but the man inside of him really hoped she did because he wasn't sure that he was going to be able to take rubbing sunscreen on her back. Not like this.

She shook her head. He groaned.