Disclaimer: I do not own Bones, but I am obsessed!

Author's Note: I'm over halfway done with this little challenge, I can't believe it. This one is short and cheesy. Just how I like it. Enjoy.

Chapter Eleven: Tingo

Tingo: Pascuense (Easter Island) – Hopefully this isn't a word you'd need often: "the act of taking objects one desires from the house of a friend by gradually borrowing all of them."

"Bones, have you seen my Army sweatshirt? You know the grey one, big black letters? I can't find it anywhere. I thought I left it on the couch the other day, but I don't see it."

Brennan looked up from her case report and shrugged. She picked up her mug and carefully sipped at the hot liquid. "I haven't seen you wear it recently. I have no idea where it could be."

Booth looked pensive. "Hmm, maybe I left it in my gym locker. I'll have to check it out later. I just don't remember leaving it there. I don't know, it's been a long week. I'd have lost my own head if it wasn't attached."

Brennan just shrugged again and returned to her coffee. "Come on, Booth. You said that you actually wanted to help with the paperwork, that's why I'm here. It's getting late, and I'm tired."

"Yeah, yeah, Bones. Hold your horses. I'm coming."

Booth sat heavily on the sofa and reached for a stack of files, soon forgetting all about his lost sweatshirt. Brennan didn't even protest as he helped himself to some of her coffee before he delved into the paperwork.

"Bones, have you seen my black and yellow striped socks? The Steelers are about to kick off. I need my lucky game day socks. They are the team's good luck charm."

Brennan had just walked in the door, holding a casserole dish in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other. She set them down on the coffee table. "I just got here. How would I know where your ugly socks are?"

Booth met his partner's curious gaze. "You think my socks are ugly?"

"I've told you before that I think your striped socks are silly."

Booth rummaged through the couch cushions and lifted up the leg-rest of his recliner, still searching for his lost items. "You just don't get it. These are my lucky socks. The Steelers are worthless without them. Bones, this is the the biggest game of the year. I need my socks!"

Brennan looked thoughtful as she busied herself by pouring chips into a bowl. "Did you leave them at the laundromat? Perhaps they were left in the dryer or something? It's a rational explanation."

Booth pursed his lips, "Maybe. I just can't believe I lost them."

Brennan returned the cushions to their rightful place and sat at her usual spot. "Well, there is nothing that you can do about it now. Come on, Booth, I brought the seven-layer dip that you requested and was told that you were going to explain to me the cultural significance of your Wonderbowl."

Booth sighed and sat on the couch. "It's Superbowl, Bones, Superbowl."

"Yes, of course. Now can you please explain to me why so many people appear to be wearing slabs of cheese on their heads?"

"I just don't get it."

Brennan looked up from her computer monitor, "Don't get what, Booth?"

"I've been looking everywhere for my FBI t-shirt. You know the one that I wore to the zoo with you and Parker the other day?"

"The one that has the old ketchup stain on it?"

"Yeah, that's the one. I took it off when we got back to my place so I could change when we got called for that body dump. I know that I left it on the floor in the bathroom, cause I was in a rush and I came back to get it later and it had disappeared."

Brennan turned back to her monitor, "Booth, its a ragged old shirt. It has a stain on it and the hem was starting to come undone. Why do you even care?"

"It's sentimental. It was the first shirt that I got after being accepted at the Bureau. The ketchup stain, that's from Parker's first hot dog from the first ever ball game that I took him to. I ripped the hem playing catch with him in the park one time. It has memories."

Brennan's lips pursed. "Well, Parker did use your bathroom before we took him back to Rebecca's, and he had a bag with him, perhaps he took it for some reason."

Booth's brow furrowed. "It doesn't seem like Parker. He doesn't take things that don't belong to him, or take things without asking."

"He is reaching his teenage years, perhaps he has started testing boundaries. But honestly, Booth. It was just a shirt."

Booth sat on the couch in her office and rested his chin on his hands. "Right, it's just a shirt."

"Bones? What are you wearing?"

"A sweatshirt, it's chilly in my apartment, I turn the thermostat down while I am at work in order to conserve energy. Don't worry, it will warm shortly."

Booth blinked at her in disbelief. "That is my Army sweatshirt. I thought I lost it years ago, but you've had it the whole time."

She shrugged, "You left it balled up under the couch. I dropped my pen and found it. I didn't think that you wanted it anymore, so I put it in my bag and took it home. You didn't ask about it until I'd already had it for a week. And you didn't ask about it again, so I kept it. It's very warm."

"Yeah, I know it's warm. It's my sweatshirt."

"I just borrowed it. You can have it back." She started to peel off the sweatshirt, but he stopped her.

"Keep it. It's yours now." He paused for a moment, and something clicked in his brain. "Oh no, Bones. You didn't. You didn't." He jumped up from the couch in her living room and bolted into her bedroom.

She was calling after him when she heard the rattle of dresser drawers. "Booth, what are you doing in my room?" She knew what he was looking for, but it didn't mean that she wanted him to rummage through her personal property. She followed him into the room. Articles of clothing now littered the floor as he emptied drawers. He opened the top level and saw what he was searching for.

"You took my socks! My good luck socks. I didn't leave them at the laundromat. You took them!"

Brennan's cheeks pinked, "We were going over paperwork and your laundry basket was just sitting next to the couch. They were right on top, and you had so many pairs, just sitting there."

"You've told me that you think my socks are stupid."

"But they are very Boothy. I didn't think that you would miss one pair. I didn't realize that they were so important to you."

"Bones, the Steelers lost!" Booth continued to whine over the loss of his favorite team.

"I'm sorry, but I don't see how the socks that you were wearing could have any bearing on a game being played one thousand miles away from you. So I didn't tell you that I was the one who took them."

"And my shirt, I assume it's around here somewhere?"

Brennan sighed and opened her closet. There it was right in the center of her closet. She reverently took it off the hanger, folded it neatly and handed it to him. When he made eye contact with her, he was startled to see tears in her eyes.

"Bones, what's wrong?" He dropped the shirt on her bed and stood in front of her.

"I'm so sorry that I took your shirt, and that I suggested Parker took it. It was wrong of me to take it, and wrong of me not to give it back when you told me how much it meant to you. And it was especially wrong of me to blame your son."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you take it?"

"Because it smelled like you." Booth used his thumb to wipe away a tear on her cheek as she again whispered an apology.

"Bones, baby. Why didn't you just tell me?"

She sighed and looked at her shoes. "You were still angry, and I had had such fun with you and Parker that day, and it was like old times, before I went to Maluku. And I had missed you all those months that you were with Hannah. And I saw it just lying there, and it smelled like you. So I took it, and I didn't want to give it back, it was selfish of me."

Booth pulled her into a brief but fierce hug before releasing her and peeling off his leather jacket.

Brennan looked up in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"Trading shirts."

"I don't know what that means."

"This one that I'm wearing smells like me, and the FBI shirt smells like you. Seems like a fair trade to me."

He pulled off his Zeppelin shirt and exchanged it for the worn and beloved FBI one. He took a moment to inhale her lingering scent on the collar before replacing his jacket. Brennan stared at him in disbelief. "You aren't mad at me?"

He stepped closer to her and placed his still warm shirt in her hands. "Well, I am taking my lucky socks back. You can have my blue striped ones. I just washed them and they are sitting on top of my laundry basket at home. You'll like them, they are very soft, very Boothy. And like I said, you can keep the sweatshirt. It looks better on you than it ever did on me."

Brennan sniffled once and smiled. "Thank you, Booth."

"And for the record, you can borrow anything of mine that you want. Anytime that you want. Just, you know, let me know next time. I really thought for a while that I was being haunted by laundry gremlins."

Brennan continued to smile as she carefully folded his shirt and placed it on her bed. She ran her hand along the soft fabric once more before responding. "I don't think that there are any such entities as laundry gremlins."

"Sure there are, Bones. I just caught one."

A pillow flying in his face was her only response.