Guns & Bones (K+ Crazy Humour)

I began writing this on the other forum before I was kicked off. Someone bumped it wanting more, but of course, I can't finish it, so ... I'm going to continue it here since I like it so much.
Just a quick heads up--Booth is the forensic anthropologist and Brennan is the special agent. hehehe

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Agent Temperance Brennan of the FBI stood in front of her forensic anthropologist, a very handsome and tall man by the name of Seeley Booth.

"Booth!" She barked. G*d, this man could be so annoying. "Are you going to look up, or what?"

"Just a minute," he said. Booth was leaning over a skeleton. It seemed that every time Agent Brennan walked into the Jeffersonian, she would find Dr. Booth in the same posture: leaning over a corpse of some sort. "I've got to do a full osteological profile. I'm almost done, then I'll go with you."

"Booth," Brennan leaned over and blocked Booth's gaze. "Bones equals old body, equals he probably isn't missed. I'm just guessing here. Fresh body equals new body, equals this guy probably has friends and family. It's matter of importance, here, Booth."

Booth finally raised his eyes from his work. "Fine, I'll make one of my grad students finish up here. I've done most of the work, anyway."

"Finally!" Brennan sighed. "I've been wanting to get you out of that lab coat all day! Come on now, there's a rotting corpse just waiting to meet you!"

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Dr. Seeley Booth sat in the passenger side of the FBI issued SUV. Agent Brennan was in the driver's seat. Booth hated it when Brennan drove. He felt a little emasculated and effeminate. It was hard enough having a female FBI agent as his partner. It was simply yet another reminder that he was not manly enough. Brennan was a very gorgeous, very straightforward, very opinionated woman. He loved that about her, but he also hated that about her. It made him love her, it made him detest her. Booth's eyes grazed his partner's outfit. She was wearing a skirt that day that showed a little more leg than he was used to.

Brennan couldn't help but to look at her partner that day, either. He was quieter than usual, more thoughtful. Booth was a tall handsome man, just her type. It certainly helped that he was intelligent, too. The two of them could have such great conversations. And let's face it, girls love to talk. And nothing is worse than a guy who just answers with a blank stare and glazed over eyes.

How in the world did Seeley Booth find time to work those hot and sexy abs, she had no idea. She didn't even care what their technical name was... Booth knew that anyway.

"Where are we going?" Booth asked.

"There's a body in a pile of maneuer that just says Seeley Booth all over it." Tempe smiled to herself. Gosh, she loved to egg this guy on.

Booth looked quite annoyed, then he answered. "Maybe we should have brought Hodgins along. He loves bugs and crap."

"And there's plenty of that where we're going."

There was a moment of silence before Booth spoke again. "You know, it wouldn't hurt to let me drive."

"Standard issue, Booth. This SUV is issued to me. If, by chance, you crashed it into an old lady, I'd be responsible." She smothered another smile.

"I am a very good driver... And FYI I took a driver's education class in high school. I passed with an A."

"Surprise, surprise. And FYI I took an FBI Driver's Training Course. I also passed with an A.... plus."

Booth couldn't help but to think how cute Brennan was when she teased him like this. It was no secret between them that they loved their daily banter in the SUV. Sure, he sometimes felt a little like a little girl when he was being escorted around by Brennan, but most of the time he loved it. He loved that she chose him as her partner. Perhaps it helped that he worked out five times a week and had big guns, but that's for another conversation altogether.

After a long drive outside of DC they finally pulled into a pasture that was taped off with yellow tape. It was swarming with FBI agents and squints. Booth and Brennan jumped out of the SUV and approached a body that lay in the middle of the pasture. The body seemed to be covered in manure.

Brennan covered her nose. She never got used to that smell. She was, after all, still a woman. No matter how many men she shot, blood still gave her a queasy feeling in her stomach... especially when it was swarming with flies.

She must've looked a little faint because Booth reached over and grabbed her arm, as if to brace her from falling. "You OK?" He asked.

"Yeah." Brennan smiled. "I guess the maggots still get to me."

Booth knew she couldn't stand the sight of maggots or blood. Booth approached the body and knelt down beside it. It was still quite gooey, so it was obvious it was a woman. "Female, thirties..." Booth looked up at Brennan.

"What?"

"Why am I here? I hate to be redundant, but I'm the bone guy. I see no bones."

"True..." Brennan agreed. "That is, until you flip the body over."

Booth carefully lifted the body an inch or two off the ground, enough to see beneath. There was a gaping hole on the back of the head. "Bone trauma." He said.

"Bone trauma, bone guy." Agent Brennan noted.



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Guns and Booth sat in the SUV as traffic came to a standstill.

After a moment, Temperance spoke first. "How's Parker?" Parker had become her little shadow, always following her around, asking her about her job, completely fascinated.

"He's fine." Booth answered. He was still annoyed that he didn't get to drive.

"What about Kari?" Kari was Booth's new girlfriend.

"Fine." He said shortly, with attitude.

"Geez." She replied.

"What? I don't want to talk about Kari. That's all." The truth was that he didn't care much for Kari. She was extremely smart, yes. She could stimulate him mentally, but when it came to the physical part of the relationship, there were no sparks.

"Mmmmmm... bad breakup?" Guns asked.

How could she tell that? He hadn't said anything that might even hint at that! He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "We're still together."

"But not for long." She pointed out.

"How do you know? I happen to find Kari mentally attractive."

"But not physically?"

"She's physically attractive."

"But you're not attracted to her." Brennan added thoughtfully.

"I'm--I'm... I'm attracted to Kari." That was real convincing.

"Psssh."

"And why is it your business anyway?"

"It's my business because you're my partner. Partners share things. That's how we forge our bond."

Booth was quiet for a moment. This statement was true. He couldn't say anything against it.

"What do you find attractive in a woman?" Brennan asked.

Why were they talking about this?! "Breasts." That was a simple answer and it should keep her quiet... so he thought.

"Breasts! Is that what you say? Women are not simply walking, talking breasts. You've gotta do better than that, Bones." Ha! Now she gave him a nickname. Bones was a much better nickname than Guns anyway.

"B--Bones? What?"

"It's your new nickname." She informed him.

"Fine. I'm Bones, you're Guns." He told her.

It was quiet for a few moments while they both searched for something else to talk about.

"I hate psychotherapy." Booth told Guns.

"Why is that?"

"Sweets is annoying. If I didn't have a thing against psychology, then I'd have something else that I disliked him for."

"Like what?"

"Like.... he's twelve."

"Twenty-two."

"Twelve and a half. And I don't have time for therapy today. I have to get back to the lab."

"Sweets is expecting us." Guns told Booth. As much as they both hated going to therapy, it was part of their job now. To stay partners, they had to attend counseling sessions.

Booth just slumped in his seat. He was not thrilled, to be honest.

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"You've got to be kidding me." Booth sighed. He hated it when Sweets played these games with them. Like they were action figures for a kid. "Give me a break..."

"Do you have a problem with this, Dr. Booth?"

"No." Booth groaned.

"Let's just get this over with, Booth." Agent Brennan stood on a table above Booth's head. Her shoes were off and she stood with her hands on her hips.

"Fine." Booth held out his hands. Brennan turned around and fell backwards. Booth caught her in his arms. She quickly jumped out and threw up her arms like she just finished a floor routine at a gymnastics competition.

"There. Are you happy?" Booth asked.

Booth and Brennan took seats beside one another.

"Why are we really here, Sweets?" Brennan asked. "I know we're not here to catch one another for hours on end, so why are we here?"

"I wanted to talk to you two about some issues that have gone unresolved since we began our sessions." Sweets crossed his legs and folded his hands over his knees.

"Unresolved? We've been coming here for two months. Not much can be resolved in two months."

"What?" Brennan sat up a little straighter. What was there to be resolved?

"I'm just saying..." Booth shook his head.

Brennan looked at Sweets. "What is there to be resolved. Let's just cut to the chase."

Sweets uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. He was game. He hated beating around the bush like this. "Take your skirts for example, Agent Brennan."

Guns looked down at her skirt. "What's wrong with it?"

"It is my belief that you use your dress... specifically your short skirts... as an escapism technique from the social and physiological boundaries set upon you by the FBI." Sweets explained.

"Shrinkmansaywhat?" Brennan replied. "There's nothing wrong with the way I dress. I happen to enjoy wearing shorter skirts. They make me... I just feel..."

"Feminine." Sweets finished.

"Yeah." How did he know that?

"It's perfectly natural for a woman working in a male-dominated career such as yours to compensate in subtle ways. Some become more promiscuous, some wear their hair in a more feminine fashion, some wear more makeup, and like you, Agent Brennan, you dress provocatively to feel more feminine."

Brennan stood up. She was about to deck Sweets. "I am not provocative! Am I Booth?"

Booth kept his mouth zipped. For one thing, he didn't dare get in the middle of this conversation. Sweets would just dissect everything he said and say it was because he was attracted to his partner. The truth was, he did find Brennan very attractive, and yes, the short skirts were the highlight of his day sometimes. But he would never tell Sweets about that. No Way!

"Booth?"

"What?"

"Tell Sweets that I dress professionally."

"Fine. Sweets, she dresses professionally."

"You don't believe that, do you, Dr. Booth?" Sweets asked.

"No comment." Booth tried to concentrate on a tree outside the window. He wished he could disappear.

"NO COMMENT?!" Brennan sat down angrily.

Booth began to feel guilty, so he leaned over and said, "Look, Guns, I--"

"I'm not talking to you." She informed him.

There was only one way to make this even, to take the pressure off from her and onto him. "What about me, Sweets? Do I use the way I dress as an escapism technique?"

"Yes, actually."

"Like what?"

"The way you escape is more subtle to the viewer who is looking in. You wear casual socks that match your clothing perfectly," he glanced at his black socks which matched his black shoes and black slacks. "And you always wear your hair fashionably and the way you dress--"

"That's just looking good." Brennan broke in.

Sweets sighed. "I'm just saying that, Booth is uncomfortable with his career..."

"Am not."

"I'm not saying you don't like it. I'm saying that you feel overwhelmed by the... what's the word... nerdiness of the atmosphere you work in. You try to dress fashionably so as to prove to yourself and perhaps the people around you that you are in fact not a nerd." Sweets loved psychoanalyzing people like this.

Booth seemed to let all of this wonderful information sink in, but then he stood up and said, "You're nuts. I don't like you. Let's go, Guns."

"Nice to see you again, Sweets." Brennan stood up and followed her partner out the door.

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Part II

"Who was she?" Brennan hopped onto the platform, her stilettos click-clacking as she walked across the platform. Hodgins looked up and grinned at Booth. Booth ignored the looks and regarded Brennan as she usually did, despite the fact that she was now wearing a skirt two inches shorter than she usually did. Cam and Angela also noticed the shorter skirt. Being women, they tried not to stare at the agent as she walked up to them.

"You mean is, right?"

"Squeeze me?"

Booth looked up from the magnifying glass and up at Guns. "Is. She IS Erin Black, dead or alive, she's still who she is. Death is just a stage in our lives. Doesn't change who we are."

Brennan crossed her arms, shifting her weight onto one hip and extending the opposite leg, a long slender leg ending in a black pump. She raised a brow. "You and Sweets should get together."

"He's too young to date." Booth grumbled at his partner.

"Touché."

Booth stood up from his work, clapping his hands together, then removing the rubber gloves. "Now it's time for you to go find out who this woman was and why someone felt like it was a great idea to swing a heavy object at her skull and dump her in a field."

"Sweets would say that it was a comment on her life by the killer. Tossing her body among cow crap."

Booth took off his jacket. Brennan fought not to follow the buttons all the way down as he unhooked them. She blinked furiously, trying to keep her eyes and his locked. "Psychology is a soft science, Guns."

"You just don't like him because he's technically FBI now."

Booth and Guns reached the SUV, but paused outside of the driver's side door. Booth kept her from opening it with an open hand against the metal. "Yeah, but I get to shoot people now." He grinned.

Brennan reached into her holster, pulling out her weapon and spinning it on her index finger. When it stopped it pointed right at Booth who swerved his body to one side.

"Woah, watch where you're pointing that thing, Guns!"

"And that's exactly why I told Cullen you shouldn't have a gun. The day you start trusting me is the day you'll get to carry a gun." Not that it stops him, of course.

Brennan yanked on the handle.

Booth pushed it closed, cornering her against the vehicle.

"I have ways of persuading you, Agent Brennan."

She tipped her head incredulously. "I doubt that."

She opened the door and slammed it behind her.

Booth made a burning noise between his teeth, "Tsssssssss! Yowch!"

Part III

Booth eyed his partner. As she drove Booth followed the long line of her leg. Could that skirt get any shorter? If it were any shorter, she might have to arrest herself. Something Booth would pay money for.

Brennan caught him looking at her. "What?"

"What's up with the skirt, Guns?"

She looked slyly at him. "You were looking at me, weren't you?"

"A purely scientific observation."

"Purely?"

"We have one visit with Sweets. He talks about your skirts and your seam suddenly rises two and a half inches, Guns."

"Where's the science in that, Microscope Boy? Look at my legs or breasts one more time and I'll have to take you down." The look exchanged between them was somewhere on that vague line of Flirtatious and Amused.

"You're trying to make a point to Sweets, huh?"

Brennan tossed her hair over her shoulder as they pulled into the Black's driveway, an older style brick apartment building at the edge of the Redlight District.

The two got out of the SUV as a woman in a tube top pulled down so that it resembled a dress, but hardly covered enough flesh to be considered a TOP or a DRESS. One look at the Cops who stood in front of her and she high-tailed it down the nearest alleyway, fleshy buns giggling with every step through the skin tight attire of hers.

Brennan unconsciously pulled her skirt down a tad longer as they walked into the building. The hallway smelled of urine and dust as they found their way to apartment 3D on the third floor.

A man walked toward them down the hallway. He stumbled, obviously drunken. He eyed the two in front of him, eyed Brennan one more time and grinned a grin that revealed rotten and missing teeth. "Twenty bucks for an hour, sweetheart."

Brennan bristled and balled her fist, taking two steps toward the man. Booth grabbed her arm and pulled her back to sanity. "He's just a drunk, Guns."

"A drunk whose ass I'm gonna kick in about three seconds."

Booth turned to the man. "Get out of here before I do it for her."

The man chuckled and stumbled down the stairs.

"This is the place." Brennan nodded at the door. She knocked twice before someone opened the door a crack, the chain keeping the door from opening more than a few inches.

Brennan held up her badge. "Special Agent Brennan. This is my partner, Seeley Booth. We're investigating the murder of Erin Black. She was a hooker down here."

"Guns," Booth cringed. "It was her job, OK? The woman probably had no other choices. A little sensitivity?"

Brennan rolled her eyes, then turned back to the eyes in the crack. "Erin Black. She may have been employed in this crack house you call home."

Booth groaned.

Brennan showed the sketch to the eyes. "Five-eight, Clairol-blond hair, I'm guessing synthetic fibers were her choice of fabric, probably pleather this and that. Listen, did you know her or not?"

The door closed.

"Nice goin, Guns."

The door reopened and an older woman in a tight mini skirt the same shade of cheap red as the lipstick on her face and a gold halter top stood before them. Her hair was also Clairol bleach blond. "You guys gonna arrest me? Cuz I don't giva sh-t. There's nothin' to eat here no ways. At least in jail I get a warm meal now and then."

The two entered the shabby apartment, furnished with alley-way findings and K-Mart clearance finds.

"We just want to ask about Erin Black. Did you know her?"

Booth and Brennan decided to stand. The woman sat on the couch, despite the fact that it was probably home to a thousand insect species.

"Erin? Nah." She picked up the sketch. "She go by Honey, not Erin. Erin's the name her sh-tty-ass parents give her." She eyed Brennan for a second. "Nice skirt."

Booth smothered a laugh.

Brennan tightened her lips. "When did you last see Honey, then?"

"Last I saw her was Saturday night. She said she was goin' down to the street to turn tricks. Never saw her since. I figured she'd gotten clean or was traded."

"Traded?" Booth asked.

"Word's goin' 'roun that Darryl's been tradin' his b-tches."

"Who's Darryl?" Guns asked.

"He my pimp. Was Honey's, too."

"Where can we find this Darryl? Does he have a last name?"

"Nah. No last name. You can find him on 82nd. Short guy. White. Big muscles. Big attitude. Always walkin' round, checkin his hoes, makin' sure they makin' him green."

"Got a picture?" Booth asked.

The woman paused for a second, then stood and brought a rumpled photo. "Can't have it, though. It's my only one."

Brennan and Booth moved toward the door. "That's all we need."

After they exited the building and stood in front of the SUV, Guns tossed the keys to Booth, who caught them with one hand. "Thanks. What's that for?"

"I'm the good cop, Bones." She smirked at him, calling him by the nickname she gave him.

Booth sat in the SUV and gripped the steering wheel tightly, squeezing it and making a squeaking noise, "Oh, yeah. That's right, baby."

"Brennan raised an eyebrow. "Having fun there, cowboy?"

"Feels like the first time, Guns."

Brennan laughed. "The first time you went to third base with a car?"

Booth rolled his eyes. "Close enough."

They were quiet as he started down the road. Booth was totally absorbed in his driving.

Brennan broke the silence, crossing her bare legs over the knees. "I'm not just a skirt and a gun, Booth."

"Huh?" He turned toward her.

"The skirt. I'm more than a skirt. And yes, I'm making a point to Sweets. I'm not unconsciously trying to stand out in a box called The Man. I just so happen to like dressing like this."

Booth tried to hold back a smile. "And I believe you."

"You do?"

"Uh-huh. Now how 'bout some Pavarotti?"

"No way! You listen to that crap?"

"He's a genius!" Booth defended.

"No. He's boring, which is a much harsher offense than being a genius."

Booth's brow furrowed. "I resent that."

"You should. I said that just to get a rise out of you."

He grinned at her.

She returned the smile.

THAT is sth NEW. AND GENIAL. I am loving this story very much. Especially to see Brennan as a FBI agent. That is so not like her. And Booth as a squint. Hahaaa Funny.
Good job, Sarah!

Why aren't you writing this story anymore? I am loving this ...
I hope you will continue it someday.