A/N: I'm struggling with a bout of general fandom blues that led to a massive case of writer's block, and trying my hand at something light-hearted often helps with that. My apologies to those who are waiting for the next chapter of "All My Yesterdays" – I'm working on it, and hopefully this silly little piece will get the creative juices flowing again.

Written for the "What if?" comment fic meme over at the bones_ga LJ community; the prompt was: Maggots in the Meathead - what if Hannah hadn't asked Brennan for help with finding the perfect gift for Booth?

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It must be the most awkward housewarming party Angela has ever been to.

She and Cam are about to beat a strategic retreat when Hannah tells Booth that she has a housewarming gift for him and hands him a wrapped parcel with something rattling inside. Booth grins as he tears the paper, but his grin slips a little when he realizes he's holding a hamster cage, complete with a tiny wheel and everything.

And, of course, a hamster.

Angela and Cam dutifully go "Awwww" as Hannah beams and Booth visibly tries not to wince. Brennan doesn't react at all except for a slight narrowing of her eyes as she looks at Booth and Hannah in a way that's usually reserved for the bones on her table.

They all know the deal with Booth and small furry animals, of course, but the significant glances they're dying to exchange will have to wait until they've finally made it out of the door.

Awkward, awkward, very awkward indeed.

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They may no longer have the easy rapport they used to, but Brennan is still attuned enough to Booth's mood to realize how tense he is the moment she climbs into his SUV.

"Are you all right?"

"Sure." The answer is curt; the underlying message I don't want to talk about it couldn't be clearer if he'd said it out loud.

"Only, you seem very tense."

"I'm fine."

Brennan shrugs and starts talking about the case, but his answers remain monosyllabic. She decides to change tack.

"Have you decided on a name yet?"

Booth does a double-take; at least she got through to him this time. "What are you talking about?"

"The hamster Hannah gave you," she explains patiently. "What are you going to call it?"

"Do I look like a guy who thinks up names for hamsters?" He sounds angry now, but Brennan has become very good and not letting it get to her.

"I assume it would hurt Hannah's feelings if you didn't – a pet is usually considered a very significant gift in a relationship. The willingness to take care of a living creature together is a strong sign of commitment."

He doesn't take the bait; the stony expression is back. "I guess."

"It's unfortunate that Hannah didn't know about your murophobia."

"Huh?" He casts her a sidelong glance that's more than a little hazardous in the middle of DC traffic. Knowing him, he's now digging through the remains of his altar boy Latin to avoid having to ask the obvious question. "What makes you think I'm afraid of walls?"

Brennan shakes her head. "Not from murus, wall – the term 'murophobia' is a coinage from the taxonomic adjective 'murine' for the Muridae family that encompasses mice and rats. It basically means the fear of small rodents."

Booth shoots her a glare. "I'm not afraid of rodents, okay? I just happen to hate hamsters."

"Many people think they're cute."

"I don't see what's cute about smelly furballs with terminal overbite and mean little eyes." Booth suppresses a shudder. "And they're all squiggly when you touch them."

"Why did you touch it if you don't like it?"

He makes a face. "Hannah wanted me to take it out of the cage and look at it up close."

"Is that how you found out that it has mean eyes?"

"I'm glad you're having fun at my expense, Bones."

"I'm not making fun of you." Brennan does her best to sound clinical. "A phobic fear of rodents is a socially induced conditioned response that originates in the startle response common in many animals, including humans. It's one of the most common specific phobias, and it's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I feel so much better already." His tone is sarcastic, but it isn't lost on Brennan that he's blushing – to Booth, admitting to an irrational fear means showing weakness, and it's not something he'll ever be comfortable with.

"There are several therapeutic approaches; I'm sure Sweets would be –"

"Whoa!" The car swerves for a moment. "Bones, you are absolutely not telling Sweets about this, do you hear me? He's breathing down my neck already these days, and I –"

He clamps his mouth shut before he can say anything else, which of course piques her curiosity. "You what?"

"Forget it."

"Okay." Brennan reaches into her purse. "I assumed you would react like that, so I got you this."

Booth takes the small piece of paper she hands him and gives it a suspicious look. The overall appearance should be familiar to him; according to the research she's done on the topic, these colorful, somewhat gaudy pictures are very popular among Catholics and often used as bookmarks in bibles and prayer books.

"Bones, did you just give me the picture of a saint?"

"She's Saint Gertrude of Nivelles, the patron saint of suriphobics – people who fear mice. She's also invoked against rats and mice in general. I couldn't find a saint who's supposed to help with other rodents, so I figured she was the best fit."

"Where on earth did you find this?"

"Online research."

"You don't even believe in God, let alone in saints."

"But you do."

Booth is quiet for a long while; he's careful to keep his eyes on the road, and Brennan is equally careful not to let him notice that she's watching him. At long last, he slides the picture into the pocket of his suit jacket and says, "Thanks, Bones."

"You're welcome."

Booth gives her a calculating look. "So, a sign of commitment, huh?"

"That seems to be the societal consensus, yes. It's…" She stops herself just in time, but of course Booth would choose this exact moment to start paying close attention again to what she's saying.

"It's what?"

"Nothing."

"Bones!"

Brennan sighs; he won't let it go now, and she hates lying to him. "It's just that… hamsters have rather short life spans."

Booth gives her another sidelong glance. "You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure, otherwise I wouldn't have said it."

"Huh." He thinks about it for a moment, then shakes his head and says lightly, "Well, at least it means the whole ordeal will be over pretty soon."

"Yes." Brennan keeps her tone carefully neutral. "I hope it will."