Disclaimer: We don't own the show, Brennan or Booth. Just playing in Hart Hanson's sand box!

A/N: First chapter of our new story! We have the entire thing written out. All 18 chapters of them!

Enjoy!

The evening had been a long one at her apartment and was turning into night. Time could be measured in empty bottles of wine - two, to be exact - and she was perhaps more than just slightly intoxicated. As per her request, Booth had poured her another glass and was handing it to her. "You know," she blurted out, "I'm thinking about finding someone able to help me satisfy my biological urges. You know?" It had been on her mind for some time. "Normally, I would call one of my contacts, but ehm," she shook her head in negation, "they're all out of town." She took a gulp of the wine, thoughtful. "What I might do... Well. I suppose I could just - I don't know - place an ad or something. Go online. I don't know." She drank more wine, smiling as it caused her to feel as though her brain was floating inside her skull. When all was quiet beside her for some time, she remembered Booth was there and turned her face towards him. "Are you okay?"

"Well, Bones," he reached for the glass of wine she was holding. "I think that's the alcohol talking." It better be, he thought.

She watched his hand as it advanced on her glass. It was as if he was moving in slow-motion. It was funny, but she didn't laugh. Instead, she shook her head slowly. "Alcohol can't talk. It was me." She leaned closer to him, nearly touching her nose to his. "And I meant it," she emphasized. Too late, she became aware that his fingers had wrapped around her glass and were pulling it towards him, out of her grasp. "Hey!" She protested weakly.

"That's it, Bones. When you start sprouting bullshit like THAT, it's definitely the alcohol talking. Because it is inside of you and it's what's making you say stupid stuff like that. Trust me," he paused, "it's the alcohol talking." 'Cause I can't be held accountable for my actions if it's not. He quickly put her glass down on the living room table, well out of her grasp.

She sighed dramatically and leaned back. "You're no fun," she sulked. "And I still mean it."

He turned to face her. "Are you kidding me, Bones? 'Cause this is NOT something you can joke about, okay? Not even when you're about as drunk as a sailor."

"Now you're fun," she snickered. "But I wasn't joking."

"Well, enlighten me, Bones. Since I seem to be too drunk to see the point in doing something as STUPID and DANGEROUS as that. How the hell are you going to pull it off, huh?" He desperately wished that she hadn't thought it through, because this was too crazy for words.

"You really want to hear it?" She asked him, figuring he must be mocking me.

"Yes," He answered, sobering up as he realized that she actually might have thought this through. I wouldn't put it past her. If she has managed to convince herself it's a rational solution, she might actually be really considering doing this!

She chuckled. "Okay. Actually, the internet was my second option." She held up one finger. "My first," She nodded towards the finger, "option, is simply to go to a bar and pick. Or get picked," She added with a smirk. She fell back into the cushions of the couch and chuckled again. She was really enjoying herself tonight.

"Bones, that is dangerous! There is a reason you don't have sex on a first date! First of all, because it's disrespectful, and second, you never know who the hell you are dealing with! Any other bright ideas?" He asked, barely able to suppress the anger in his voice.

She rolled her eyes at him. "You can't satisfy urges while staying polite and respectful all the time, Booth," She told him matter-of-factly.

He leaned closer to her as he established eye contact, "Well, Bones, there are safer ways to deal with biological urges." He hoped he was being clear enough, but in this case, he wouldn't mind to be painfully blunt about it. I have to get her to see how stupid and dangerous this is. No matter what!

"You think the internet is safer?" She asked him sarcastically. He was always bugging her about the dangers of online dating. Her expression softened. "It's kinda sweet that you care so much, Booth, it really is, but I'm an adult. I can take care -"

"Of yourself?" He snorted, "By willingly offering yourself to whatever stranger notices your body and agrees to 'satisfy biological urges' with you? Sorry, Bones, but that is NOT taking care of yourself. That is reckless and stupidly naive behaviour, and as far as I know - the woman I know - she is neither. So you might want to rethink that." He stated, continuing to look into her eyes, trying to find reason, logic, rationality. Anything!

She looked into his fierce eyes. He seemed mad, which annoyed her. "Booth, stop. This is not the first time I'm about to do this. It's worked for me every time. You can stick to your -" She vaguely waved her hand in the air, "Catholic morals, but I'll do what I have to. And besides that, you're forgetting that I'm a black belt in three types of martial arts," she finished with a poke in his chest.

"And how is that going to help, huh, Bones? If he is out to hurt you, he will do whatever it takes. He could put something in your drink, he could overpower you, he could kidnap you, he could... God only knows what! And even, EVEN," He repeated the word, emphasizing it, "if you are right, and the fact that you know three types of martial arts is enough to keep a sick horny bastard away from you, it is STILL not logical, rational or acceptable to put yourself in that kind of dangerous situation. And it's definitely NOT because you were as lucky to stay unharmed whenever you've pulled this stunt before, that you won't get hurt this time!" He was finding it close to impossible to stop himself from grasping her shoulders and shaking her until she could see the irrationality of what she was saying. But he didn't. He would never do that to her, no matter how much she was driving him up the freaking walls. "And this has NOTHING to do with my Catholic morals!" he added as an afterthought, "However, it has EVERYTHING to do with your safety!"

"Jesus, Booth!" He was crossing a line, now. He was insulting her! "How dare you judge what you don't know. Just because you only see the cases that went wrong doesn't mean that every man who goes to a bar to meet a woman has bad intentions," she lectured. "Kidnap, Booth? Really?" She frowned angrily at him, leaning closer. "You're paranoid." She pulled back again. "And you can't stop me from doing what I want. You're not in charge of protecting me. Or are you going to keep me hostage?" She challenged.

"Well, any HONOURABLE man would have no intention of 'satisfying biological urges' the night he meets a woman for the FIRST time!" He got up and started pacing. "So what are you saying? I'm good enough to drag you out into the field? To protect you, whenever you manage to piss a suspect off and get yourself shot? But I'm not good enough to protect you from yourself, when you feel the need to get laid?"He turned to her, crossed his arms over his chest and fixed her with his stare. Daring her to disagree with him.

She shot up from the couch and shoved him in the chest. Her eyes blazing with fury, she said through clenched teeth, "Don't talk to me like that. My private life is none of your business. You get that? I never asked for your protection. I don't need it," she said defiantly, and crossed her arms in front of her chest as well. "Is there anything else you'd like to say before you go?"

"No, Bones. If this is how you think about me, if this is how little you think of yourself, then no. I have nothing left to say." He took a step closer to her. "It's not like you're going to listen to me, now are you?" He snatched his coat from the couch and turned to her again. "You know Bones, this is the most illogical and irrational that I have ever seen you. Call me when you've come to your senses, okay?" he turned his back to her and walked out of her apartment, slamming the door.

Her brain was still catching up when she heard the door slam shut. She tried to remember what she'd said to him. It had all gone so fast... But then he shouldn't try to tell her what to do. People had been transferring her from place to place when she was a child and she had never been able to do what she wanted. Nobody had ever cared to ask her, "Temperance, honey, we've been making all these plans for you because it saves us so much time and paperwork, but tell us, what would YOU like to do with your life?" She paced the apartment. No. They'd never asked her that. And now that she finally, finally gets to make her own decisions, Booth comes and tries to tell her what to do. Well, she'll show him that he has no influence on her whatsoever. Perhaps, if he wouldn't have challenged her, she would have decided to stay home. The alcohol might be messing with her judgment and she normally hardly drank at all so she could stay focused and alert. But Booth had just been pushing the right buttons. Now she had something to prove. She was going out.

To Be Continued!

So, who do you think won this argument? And who will come out the loser in the end? Is Booth being sexist? Is Brennan being reckless? All feedback and reviews are very welcome and appreciated!