Heyyy... So I finally got around to finishing this chapter! Aren't you all proud of me? Sorry it took so long. I promise the next one won't take as long. No, seriously. :) I hope this lives up to any expectations you have and that you like it!

Dis: I do not own either Bones or House. Much to my eternal dismay.

Chapter Six- Squirrels and cornflakes

Seeley Booth was staring up into a tree. More specifically, he was staring at a squirrel, which was clutching a nut and staring unblinkingly back at him.

"Booth?"

"Quiet, Bones, I've almost got him."

Brennan straightened up, a femur and superior ulna in her hands. "Booth. You're having a staring contest with a squirrel. Come here and hold open this bag."

Booth sheepishly broke eye contact with the squirrel, which squeaked in triumph, and help open the evidence bag for his partner, who dropped the bones into it with a wry smile.

"I'm very disappointed in whoever gathered these bones. They missed quite a few."

"Well, Bones," Booth stumbled over a tree root as he attempted to follow his partner. "We can't all be as perfect and professional as you."

"I am certainly not perfect, Booth. It is impossible for any one human being to be absolutely perfect at all times." Brennan reached down and picked up what looked like a finger.

"Yeah, well, you know what Bones? It was a compliment. Accept it."

Bones looked up at him. "I was just saying that it was scientifically impossible." She smiled at her partner. "Thank you, though."

Booth smiled back on reflex. She did that to him. She smiled, he smiled, like a well-oiled machine. Suddenly, Brennan's eyes were no longer on him, but were re-fixed on the ground. "Booth?"

She slowly crouched and picked up a small rectangular laminated card. It was torn and muddied and the name wasn't readable. The picture, however, was. Booth put down the bag of bones and leaned over his partner's shoulder. "Is that a… driver's license?"

"Booth. The linings of the brows match. I think this is our murder victim." Both partners looked down at the small card.

"Aw, man." Booth muttered.

BONESHOUSEBONESHOUSEBONESHOUSEBONESHOUSEBONESHOUSEETC

Thump. Catch. Thump. Catch. House had begun this tempo ten minutes ago and hadn't missed once. Thump. Catch.

"His arteries are fine." Kutner's voice broke into his rhythm and the ball fell into his lap.

"Surprisingly. " Taub muttered.

"Taub." Thirteen rolled her eyes. This was the ninth comment plastic surgeon Taub had made about the man's weight.

"I'm just saying! I don't understand how anyone can let themselves get that unhealthy and out of shape."

House shot a look at Taub's pudgy middle. "Says the plastic surgeon who…"

His unkind comment was cut off by the irritated voice of the forensic anthropologist sounding from down the hall, somehow rising over all the noise the hospital made on a daily basis.

"No, Booth, I know it was him." Brennan came bursting into his office. "You!" She pointed at House. "My bones are gone. Did you move my bones?!" The woman looked on the edge of hysterics.

House appraised her with a sly smile. "Now why would I do that, Dr. Brennan?"

Brennan threw up her hands. "I don't know! From what I've seen of you so far, not that it's even close to enough data to make an accurate assumption as to your day-to-day patterns and habits, you have a manipulative personality that seems to enjoy irking people to gauge their reactions and learn more about them and where the hell are my bones!?"

Booth entered the office to catch the tail end of Brennan's rant. Apparently, the anthropologist had run on ahead of him. "Whoa, ok, Bones, calm down." He gripped her shoulders and rubbed them soothingly.

Kutner stepped forwards hesitantly. "Uh, I moved the bones, Dr. Brennan. They're in one of the examination rooms down by the clinic."

Brennan spun on him, breaking out of Booth's hold. "Why would you do that? You could have compromised the integrity of the bones and we could have lost key evidence that would lead to our killer!"

"Well, we figured it would be easier for you to work in your own room and…" Kutner faltered, looking from the irate anthropologist to her partner.

"Bones, you know what, calm down. You know, they are doctors. I'm sure your bones are fine." Booth continued to rub Brennan's back comfortingly. "You know you guys really ought not to mess with a murder investigation, and maybe perhaps actually let me question our suspect before a murderer walks!" Now the FBI agent sounded annoyed.

Kutner looked apologetic and a little frightened. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize…" He shot a shakey look around and Taub and Thirteen.

Brennan took a deep breath. "It's alright." She said finally. "Like Booth said, you are all very professional doctors. I'm sure that the bones are fine."

Thirteen snorted. When Kutner looked sideways at her she mouthed the words "very professional" at him and he smirked.

"Can I question my guy now? We really need to talk to him sometime before his eventual death." Booth dropped his hands from Brennan's shoulders and looked from doctor to doctor.

Taub, Kutner and Thirteen all looked toward House, who had been surprisingly quiet throughout the entirety of the conversation, watching all through steepled fingers. "Sure." He said finally, grabbing his cane and standing up. "Knock yourselves out. After all, what's a man's life when there's a dead one to save? There's somewhere I have to be."

He hurriedly stumped out of the room. Brennan looked at Booth. "Was that my fault?"

Thirteen shook her head. "Don't worry. He probably just went to go bother Cuddy or Wilson."

And as it turns out, she was exactly right.

******

The door to Lisa Cuddy's office flew open with a bang. Cuddy looked up to see her secretary gesturing apologetically through the window at the crippled doctor that had decided to disturb her peace. "Hello, House. What do you want?"

House didn't answer her, choosing instead to walk over to her large bookshelf and examine the contents.

"House!" Cuddy half-stood out of her chair as House began rifling through her books, mostly medicinal journals.

House sighed. "Of course. It's all medicinal journals and studies about how we still can't cure AIDS. Why don't you have any good thrillers? Like, maybe a novel by the infamous and oh-so-sexy Temperance Brennan?" He watched Cuddy carefully beneath his graying eyebrows. He was not disappointed.

A flash of…something raced through Cuddy's body. Sexy? He thought the forensic anthropologist was sexy? "House, get out of here. I have a ton of work to do." She snapped irritably, looking back down at the papers scattering her desk.

House felt a grin tug at his lips. "Ok. I got what I wanted anyway." He spun on his good heel and walked out of the room, whistling. Cuddy stared after him, confused.

What had House wanted? Cuddy stood up out of her chair, suddenly very unable to concentrate on any work. She walked over to her file cabinet absentmindedly, thoughts still on House. That man was so… infuriating sometimes. And yet, there were others when he could be nice, if he really tried. Or if he could get something out of it. "Face it, Cuddy." She told herself. "He won't ever be the guy you think you want him to be."

She grabbed the handle of her first file cabinet drawer and yanked, hard. In that instant, she discovered why she'd caught House in her office earlier that day. Sour milk and soggy cornflakes sloshed all over her files and some even managed to find its way onto her blouse and skirt. Cuddy's nose was hit with a rancid wave of stench that only sour milk can give off.

"Ohhhh…" She moaned, wiping at her front uselessly. "Damn it… HOUSE!"

So? Did you like it? I hope that you did... and I promise that the next update won't take this long. Promise. Please review and tell me what you thought!

xxAllTheWorldsAStagexx