What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

Ch 19: That Time Brennan Verbally Engaged Booth

As they stood watching the various pony play participants, Brennan was somewhat fascinated from an ethnographical perspective. Booth, for his part, seemed to be confused by the display of unorthodox behavior he was witnessing. But, much as if he was driving down a highway and had passed a gruesome accident, he was unable to look away from the scene before him—men and women in various states of undress, clothed in leather, and restrained in different ways with leather bindings and riding crops.

Shaking her head, in response to Booth's observation about what he saw, Brennan mused, "Well, this isn't about the horses." She looked at Booth, arching an eyebrow as she explained, "It's about a dominant versus submissive balance of power, a variation on sado-masochism."

Pointing a finger in the vague direction of where a group of men had begun to consume whatever was contained in the horse trough, Booth shook his head in wonderment as he said, "Those people are eating from troughs..." His voice trailed off, and he glanced at Brennan, who seemed to be studying the scene with a critical eye. "Do you think that's sexy?"

Refusing to answer the question, Brennan instead offered, "Fetishism is a way of indulging in sexual activity, without actually engaging emotionally with the other person as a fully formed human being."

She didn't answer my question, Booth thought with a strange feeling coming over him. Now, why in the hell wouldn't she answer a simple question like that? Bones never evades or ever avoids giving her opinion about something… unless—unless, she's into something like this herself? No, right? She's not into this kinda thing… right? Booth suddenly wondered.

Unable to help himself, he decided a bit of a test was in order. Although he normally refrained from any kind of topic that might bring up sexual topics with Brennan, this time he wanted to see if she would take the bait. Smiling at her, Booth said, "Okay, sex is all about engaging." He held her eyes for a minute, and then added with a sly chuckle, "You don't wanna engage, you just stay home, and... you know—"

Did Booth just make a veiled reference to self-abuse? Brennan thought, her curiosity piqued. Since when does he talk about sex, especially about masturbation… unless—her thoughts trailed off, and Brennan had to refrain from letting a sly grin of her own creep onto her face. Unless, he's become sexually aroused in some way by what he's seeing here? While I've long suspected that Booth's religious upbringing may have resulted in his repression of certain sexual preferences, maybe when he's confronted with such a visually stimulating and tangible display of evidence, perhaps he's unable to deny certain sexual longings and predilections he may have? Fascinating. She stopped, and this time she did smile as she thought, There's only one way to find out for certain—

"Well, they have masturbation fetishes," Brennan seemed to comment off-hand, picking up on the insinuation of Booth's prior comment. "Often involving women's shoes or undergarments—"

"Uh, pardon me," Lucky, the proprietor of the Ambassadora suddenly interrupted Brennan. "If you folks will excuse me for just one minute, I see one of my clients is signaling me about something. I'll be right back."

Booth nodded, letting out a sharp breath of relief when he was finally left alone with Brennan. He narrowed his eyes mildly to chide her.

"What?" Brennan said, uncertain why Booth seemed displeased with her.

"Bones," Booth began. "icks-nay on the ex-say alk-tay in front of strangers, huh?"

Frowning, Brennan said, "Well, there's no one who can hear us now, except the two of us, Booth, so I think it's appropriate for me to continue my point."

"And, what point is that again?" Booth asked, somewhat afraid of what Brennan would say in response.

"You know," Brennan nodded, with a knowing look in her eye.

"No," Booth said with a shake of his head. "I don't—"

"Well," Brennan began, taking on a disarmingly clinical tone. "I was just talking about masturbation—"

"Bones," Booth's voice took on a bit of a whine. "Really, now? You want to talk about this now?"

"Why not?" Brennan asked. "A few moments ago, it appeared as if you were more willing than normal to talk about topics of a sexual nature without tensing up and becoming so rigidly inflexible as you normally are on the topic."

Booth's eyes darted over to her when she said the words 'rigidly' and 'inflexible' before he mentally groaned and looked away. You're killing me, Bones. Absolutely killing me.

"I would be a fool not to take advantage of the situation," Brennan said, tilting her head. She smiled a bit as she added, "Particularly since I have several questions I'd like answered as it relates to this topic of discussion."

His head snapping up as he looed over at her, Booth's eyes widened in surprise. "Errr… what?"

"Masturbation, Booth," Brennan said. "Or, if you prefer alternative descriptors, self-abuse, onanism, getting one's self off—"

"Bones!" Booth sharply barked, his discomfort becoming clearly evident as his cheeks flushed a light pink. Brennan smiled at him when Booth lowered his voice and said, "Now, is not really the time to talk about this stuff, huh? We're here on a case, remember?"

"I have a perfect memory, Booth, so I never forget anything," Brennan said. "However, since you seem, as usual, to be growing increasingly uncomfortable with this topic of discussion, I'll curtail the questions I'd like to ask you about certain fetishes—"

"Wait," Booth interrupted her. "What about fetishes?"

"Well, I'm curious to know if you have any," Brennan finally admitted, a mischievous glint still dancing in her bright blue eyes.

"Do you?" Booth suddenly asked.

"Like what?" Brennan quickly countered. "The study of sexual fetishes is quite a complicated genre to master, Booth, even just from a purely clinical perspective. There are many, many, many different types of fetishes in which on can indulge. I'm not sure even I can explain them all. So, which ones do you want to know about? Of course, there are typical anatomical ones like the preference for an exaggerated male member, or large hands because of the old folktale adage that large configurations of the phalanges and carpals indicate a more prominent size for the male reproductive anatomy, or even the preference for strong muscular forearms that indicate strength and virility. But, then there can be ones that are more... precise. For example, some fetishes are situational and revolve around a favored sexual position like a male slamming a female against a wall or other hard surface, perhaps like a car door, before initiating coitus. Then, if you want to move past the anatomical and situational fetishes, there are your more object-based fetishes that include aesthetic costumes, like men wearing three-piece pinstripe suits, fire arm shoulder holsters, and other phallic objects in general like guns." Leveling her stare at Booth, Brennan then asked, "So, which kind were you asking about?"

"Uhhh…. any of them that are... well, you know...the kind you're into?" Booth suddenly said, unable to help himself as he blurted out the response, and then quickly closed his mouth as he realized what he normally only let echo in his head had actually been verbalized. Screw it, Booth thought. In for the penny, in for the pound.

Smiling her secret smile, Brennan said, "I would propose a compromise, Booth. We finish our required official case work here at the Ambassadora, and on the way back to the Jeffersonian, I'll show you mine if you show me yours—"

"Errr—" Booth's voice trailed off again, his pink blush now turning bright red as he looked at her and wasn't quite certain to what she was referring. "Meaning what, Bones?"

"Meaning," Brennan grinned. "You can ask me whatever you want, and I'll give you an honest answer about any sexual topic you can think of—provided, of course, you do the same."

And, as if she were the devil himself incarnate, Booth felt a renewed sense of urgency to find Mr. Ed's rider and finish their task at the pony play camp. Wagging a finger at her, Booth gave a deliberate nod and said, "You're on."

-TBC-