Author's Note:

First up, I sent a private message to the original author, informing of what I was doing. I haven't heard back yet.

Next, I got a favorable review from a user called "Dancin' Phalanges!" How cool is that? The only thing cooler would be if he/she had reviewed my previous story! (Hint, hint)

Third, I have the next chapter already written, uploaded, and ready to publish. But I kinda wrote myself into a corner - I have two very different ways I can run with the story, and can't decide which way to go with it. I think I just might start typing, and see which way my fingers take me. Probably in the direction that causes the most complications for both parties concerned.

Thanks again for all the reviews and other feedback, folks!

The Bones In Bones

Chapter 2

Booth stood before Bones, carefully considering matters. "OK, before I start, let's get a few ground rules clear. First up, I'm going to be focusing all my attention on identifying your bones, so you are in charge of keeping the running count."

"That seems fair."

"And one more thing. Your bones are kinda concealed under your skin and hair and flesh. Very fine skin and hair and flesh, but still concealed. I'd like a certain margin of error when it comes to precisely placing the bones."

She considered that. "Not to mention that some fused bones have sutures that can't be felt from the surface. All right, as long as you're in the right area – say, within a few centimeters – I'll count it as correct. However, if you do something like…" she took his hand and slowly stroked it up her thigh – "place my fibia in my thigh, I'll count that as a mistake and won't correct you."

"I take it you mean 'tibia' or 'fibula,' Bones? Good thing I know you better than to think you'd mispronounce a bone just to sabotage me and increase your chance of winning."

"Oh, did I mispronounce a bone's name? I'm so sorry, Seeley. I don't know what came over me." She smirked. "And I'd like to introduce a ground rule of my own – I want you to strip down to your underwear as well. Having you hovering around me, fully dressed, while I'm my underwear makes me feel a bit self-conscious."

Booth snorted. Temperance Brennan had never in her life been the slightest bit self-conscious about being undressed – partly or completely – in front of others, especially her lovers, even if they were in parkas and snow pants. Having him undress was yet another ploy in keeping him distracted and messing with his attention.

But he figured he'd let her have it. She wasn't being very subtle, but it nonetheless was an attempt to emotionally manipulate him, and that was a big step forward for her developing social skills. But he wasn't going to let her think she'd actually succeeded in fooling him. He snorted again, smirked back, and began removing his shirt. "That certainly sounds fair enough." Next went his shoes, socks, and pants.

"Oh, you are wearing your boxers with the cocks!" she exclaimed gleefully."

"Roosters, Bones."

I told you I don't understand the distinction."

"Let me try to explain. 'Roosters' can mean 'cocks,' and 'cock' is the most common slang term for 'penis.' So a man wearing who wears roosters is subtly referring to his own penis, asserting his masculinity."

She nodded. "That makes sense."

He continued. "But 'cock' is more commonly known as a synonym for 'penis' than 'rooster' – yes, even though the rooster connection is considerably older. When you say a man has 'cocks' on his boxers, you're implying that he has pictures of penises – and that would imply that the man was homosexual, because his shorts would be proclaiming that he most desires."

"I see. And for me to imply that you were homosexual would actually be an insult, an affront to your masculinity and a challenge to your identity as a heterosexual alpha male. Especially when one takes into account that I am both a woman and your lover."

"Exactly! I don't take it as an insult, as I know you don't intend it that way, but it's still not very pleasant to hear."

"So, should I make some gesture to atone for my offense? Something that asserts my belief in your masculinity, your heterosexuality, and your desirability as my lover?" Her eyes gleamed.

Booth groaned inside. It was an amazing offer, but it was just another attempt to break his concentration. "That's not necessary, Bones. That you understand it – and, I trust, won't do it again – is more than enough."

She was disappointed, but let it slide. "So, any more rules, or should we begin?"

"Let's start. In fact, let's start at the top, and see where things go from there." He placed his fingertips on her forehead. "Frontal bone." Then he slowly walked around her, his thumb brushing along one side of her head and his middle finger tracing the opposite sides, until they met at the back of her head. "Temporals, parietals, and occipital. That's six."

"Six." She affirmed.

"Now for your vertebrae." He changed to just his index finger at the base of her skull, and slowly started tracing down her spine. "Cervical vertebrae… one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Thoracic…"

"Is my bra in the way? If it is, you could take it off. I wouldn't mind – after all, you're bare-chested, and it would seem only fair."

He was disappointed she had tried that ploy so quickly. He'd figured he'd have a bit longer. "No, that's all right. I can work around it. As I was saying, thoracic – one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Finally, lumbar one, two, three, four, five. There's another 24. What's that bring the total to?"

"30."

"Excellent." He then slipped his fingertip into her panties and kept descending. Then he increased the pressure until his finger slipped between the cleft of her buttocks – he could play the teasing game, too. "Coccyx." Then he traced his finger back up her spine, at the top pressed her shoulder blades with pinkie and thumb. "Scapulas."

"Actually, the plural is 'scapulae.'"

Either way, it's another three, bringing me up to 33. Correct?"

"Correct."

He slid his hands up her shoulders, then down her arms. "Humerus, radius, ulna. Another six." Then he took one of her hands in his, tracing down her pinkie. "Proximal phalange, medial phalange, distal phalange. Three." He stroked down her remaining fingers. "Six, nine, twelve." Then he caressed her thumb. "Proximal and distal. Two more, for fourteen." With that, he switched to her other hand and repeated the process. "Seventeen, twenty, 23, 26, and 28. With the six in your arms, that's another 34. What's that bring us to?"

"67." Her voice was slightly husky – nearly no one else would pick up on it, but Seeley could."

And that puts me fairly close to halfway there. Shall we continue, Bones, or would you care to consider giving up and admitting defeat?"

She snorted back at him. "Not a chance, Booth. You've used up a lot of the easy ones to get this far. And you skipped over most of my skull."

"I still can go back, if I need to." He moved in front of her, then kneeled. "Oh, my, Bones, you really must have been rushed when you changed your clothes. Let me fix this for you." The then very tenderly pulled the edge of her panties away and tucked those stray strands of her pubic hair back under them, first one side, then the other.

"Thanks so much. I don't know how I was so careless." She couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her voice. Another of her ploys went down in flames.

Booth didn't care. He was just proud she had tried. He then placed his hands on her hips, then slowly dragged them down the front of her legs. "Back to work. Femur, patella, tibia, and fibula tucked in behind. That's another eight."

Bones sighed. His ease in running up his score was concerning her, but his touches were also typically pleasant. She might have to wear that damned belt buckle after all. "75."

He gently lifted one foot, and started with her small toe. "Proximal, medial, and distal phlange." Just like with her hand, he worked his way across her foot. "Three, six, nine, twelve. Big toe – proximal and distal phalanges." He put her foot down, and lifted the other. "Seventeen, twenty, 23, 26, and 28 – just like the hand. What's my total now?"

Bones was getting worried. "103."

He stood back up and gloated a bit. "By my math, that puts me at about two-thirds towards winning, and about halfway towards naming all the bones in your body in total."

"You still have a ways to go, Booth, and you're running out of the easy ones."

"Oh, I know I'm running low, but I haven't run out."