Disclaimer: I do not own Bones (Fox Television), nor will I ever.

Authoress Note: Well, I'm finally getting around to writing for my favorite television show! YAY! I'm writing this as a one-shot, but I'm intending to write a series of one-shot that all go together, probably one for each pairing.

Pour ma méré et mon péré .


The Red Wine Love Affair: Oxymoronic

Dr. Temperance Brennan stared at the glass full of red wine that sat on the mahogany table in front of her, eyeing it with the assumption that it might actually be staring back. But, Dr. Brennan knew much better than that. Wine was not technically a living organism, nor did it have eyes, so, therefore it could not be staring back at her.

"Waiting for it to talk to you?" Special Agent Seeley Booth (of the FBI) sat down across from her. Temperance almost laughed, but instead she just stared at him.

Finally, she spoke. "It's really quite ironic that you're a federal agent."


"Well, yeah. I mean, you're last name is ironic."

"Bones, you've officially lost me."

"Booth, as in John Wilkes Booth?" No answer. Temperance raised her eyebrows and the red wine seemed to laugh. "John Wilkes Booth, first presidential assassin? Shot Abraham Lincoln in the Ford's Theatre during a performance of My American Cousin?"

"I know the story, Bones, what I don't get is why me sharing last names with an actor whack-job makes it ironic for me to work for the FBI."

The wine was no hysterical. Temperance took a sip from it simply to shut it up.

"Well, you work for the federal government and John Wilkes Booth worked to bring down the federal government. He thought that they were neglecting the South that had been destroyed during the Civil War."

"Well, yeah. But your name's Temperance."

"Booth, what does that have to do with anything?" Temperance blinked a few times, and sipped the wine again. Actually, she downed the rest of the glass in one fell swoop.

"Your name's Temperance and you're drinking wine."

I'm going to need some more if he talks any longer, she thought dryly.

He went on. "The Temperance Movement, remember Bones? Basic high school history class, the Temperance movement to outlaw alcoholic consumption. Led to Prohibition." He paused. "I can't believe that I know something you don't."

"I just didn't think of it right away." She stood, walked from the table to the counter where she'd left the wine bottle. Temperance poured more of it into the long stemmed glass; the wine now urged her to say what she had on her mind when she'd called him to her apartment.

"So," As if Booth could read her mind, Booth prompted her, "What did you want to talk about? The John Doe case?"

Temperance saw her golden opportunity begin to do an elaborate dance in front of her eyes. The wine clapped and cheered. She had, in fact come up with a new theory on the John Doe case that Booth spoke of. Angela was orchestrating a holographic reconstruction with the bones at the Jeffersonian in an attempt to identify the victim. But, Booth knew Bones, and she was almost always thinking, usually about the current case. She could have fed him that almost-lie.

But she didn't want to lie to him. Especially not about this.

The wine became distressed as it saw the golden chance stop dancing in front of it, take off it's toe shoes, pack it's dance bag and grand jetéout the door as suddenly as it had arrived.

"Booth, I want to talk about us."

She sipped the wine again. It blushed.


She sat down opposite him. "Booth, even though your name makes absolutely no sense in accordance to your profession-"

"Bones, where are you going with this?"

Maybe it was emotion, or maybe it was the wine with a mind of it's own, but something made Dr. Temperance Brennan lean across the table and press a quick and chaste kiss to Booth's lips. "Booth, I think I love you."

He was shocked, and it took Booth a long minute to gather up his thoughts. "I don't think I love you, Bones-"

She was on her feet in a split second, fumbling toward the door. "Oh my god, I am so sorry, I just…the wine and-"

Booth caught her hand. "No, Bones, you didn't let me finish. I don't think I love you," grinning, he pulled her into an embrace, locked in his strong arms. "I know I love you." He kissed her again.

And the red wine was finally silent.