Intimidating

Summary: After a drunken Angela makes a slip that Brennan might intimidate men, Brennan takes the case to a reliable source: Booth.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, only when I'm delusional.

Just thought this one up during a stroll on the beach. Romantic? Maybe, but you'll have to read on to find out!

By the way, I don't mean to make Angela a bad guy in this one.

Twitter - Objectivemiss

B&B

"You're drunk," Brennan giggled, hunched over a barstool, nursing some fruity tutti vodka drink Angela insisted she get.

"So are you," Angela said with a snort. "It's good though, maybe we can pick up some guys now that you're loosened up."

Confusion is often the most honest response; the intoxicated forensic anthropologist squinted in confusion. Perhaps she had missed some nuance in the conversation, for her companions comment seemed oddly biting and sharp. "Why would the degree of relaxation in my muscles have anything to do with my ability to attract a mate of desirable musculature and proportions?"

"Sweetie," the artist first paused to wave over the bartender, motioning for a refill. "I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you scare off guys like a wedding ring."

"I-I don't know what you mean."

"Bren, it's just, you're so gorgeous-"

"Wouldn't that increase my chances of finding a male specimen willing to have sex with me?"

"Usually yes. But with your big words, mind blowing smarts, and superior acting; that scares guys away."

"Wouldn't men like women who are able to take care of themselves?"

"It's like Booth," Angela took a big swig of her drink. "He wants to take care of you; that's a guy thing. And you," she wobbled a bit on her stool, "are independent."

If she wasn't so plastered, she probably would have thought harder about what she said. Too independent? Was that even possible? For thousands of years, women were forced by society to be submissive in the social order. But, from an economic and societal evolution standpoint, decreasing self-sufficiency allowed for further specialization of labor, thus allowing fewer to become food producers. Without the great surplus of food, she would be unable to devote time to anthropology. Instead, she would have to produce food, and have children to work on the farm.

"So how could I ameliorate my charm?"

"Now it's my turn to say 'I don't know what that means.' How do you even spin off those words when I'm here, slurring the first word of every sentence."

Brennan rolled her eyes; why was it only those with doctorates could comprehend her normal manner of speech? "It means to make or become better, more bearable, or more satisfactory; improve. Alcohol typically doesn't affect my speech until I drink in larger quantities than I have this evening."

"Well then let's get you another round!"

"Are you sure that I scare men?"

"Positive."

"Do you think it would be wise to test you hypothesis?" she took a casual look around the room. "After all, it cannot become a theory until contested."

"Pick a guy, any guy," Angela made a wide, sweeping gesture.

Brennan made her usual smug face, tightening her lips into a tight smirk. She eyed the choice of men around the room. First man her eyes fell upon seemed to be between twenty-five and thirty; young enough to sustain high sex drive. Judging by the estimate she was able to ascertain, he was 177.8 centimeters in height. But, he had a nose piercing that could be potentially bothersome when kissing. While nose piercing originated in 1500 B.C.E, in modern society, it was considered a sign of rebellion. Hindu women of childbearing age wear a stud in the left nostril due to its association with the female reproductive organs in Ayurvedic medicine.

The second man was much more alluring. He was about 187.96 centimeters in height, with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. He had dimples, on one cheek (Strong jaw line, she noted, eyeing him up and down. She was objectifying him, yes, but it was all in scientific pursuit.

She walked over to him, approaching from behind. "Excuse me," Brennan tapped him on his muscular shoulder. Obviously, he exercised regularly.

"What can I do for you pretty lady?" he eyed her up and down. He surely found her pleasing to look at. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"May I ask you a question first?" Typically, she didn't ask before querying, but it seemed polite and appropriate for the circumstances.

"Anything babe."

"Do do you find that sexual intercourse or a relationship with a woman of higher intelligence and high independence intimidating?"

"Are you for real?" the guy walked off with his beer in hand.

Brennan merely shrugged, unfazed by her first failure. She found great virtue in perseverance. If Einstein had given up when working on his theory of general relativity, the world would not know that the universe is expanding far faster than the speed of light.

She scanned the bar for more males to question. Many were overweight, with lipids gathering on the abdomen, thighs, and neck. Love handles weren't libidinous in her esteemed opinion.

What she needed was a reliable male opinion; someone that had attractive physical attributes, and was prone to tell her the truth. Now where in a thirty minute radius could she find someone like that? Brennan racked her muddled brain for a person that could possibly fulfill her requirements. Hodgins could be viable, but although she was smarter than him, the disparity was relatively small enough; not to mention his nonchalance towards comparisons of intelligence. Wendell already had mistaken innocent questioning as sexual advances, so he wouldn't be a good subject. Clark wouldn't be willing to discuss his personal preferences, and Colin Fisher's perspective would be undeniably skewed. Enquiring with Vincent Nigel-Murray would only give her non-related facts.

"Stupid," she muttered under her breath.

How had she not thought of it before? For a moment, she wanted to slap her palm to her face, but she wasn't quite sure why. Booth! She could ask Booth!

"Angela, I'm going," she tapped her on the shoulder.

Luckily, the bar was a rather hot weekend spot, so it was easy to flag a cab. Brennan uttered the address of Booth's apartment to the cab driver and she slid into the worn, leather backseat. She couldn't help but lean her head back and close her eyes. Although it wasn't that late, she felt a bit hypnagogic.

Arriving at her destination, Brennan swiped her credit card to pay the fare, and dropped a few bills through the window for a very generous tip. She half-stumbled up to his building, thankfully sliding into a very empty elevator. Not feeling very considerate, she simply opened the door with the key he had entrusted to her. As far as she was concerned, this was an emergency, and thus, justified its use.

"Booth? Are you there?" she said a bit too loudly, wobbling into his apartment.

"Bones?" Booth jumped up in surprise. He was watching some sort of television show that she had never seen before. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes. Yes, there is something wrong."

"You're drunk," a condescending smile formed on his face.

"Not important," she dropped to his recliner. "Do you think I scare men?"

"W-What?" he laughed.

"Angela said that my intelligence, combined with stunning beauty, and…other stuff that guys are intimidated by me."

"You're not intimidating, trust me. I mean, it's not like you're some biker dude covered in tattoos."

"I was being serious…" she dropped her head, feeling the spontaneity in which she arrived dripping from her body.

"Oh," his lips formed a cute "o." He sunk in to the couch adjacent to her. "Umm, I guess you can be a bit…scary."

"I knew it," she used the arm operated crack to move the chair into an almost flat position.

"No no no! It's not a bad thing!"

"How?" she curled up, feeling decidedly vulnerable. "No one likes me…"

"Hey now," Booth moved to sit on the arm of the recliner. "I like you."

"But you don't want to pursue a more intimate relationship with me because I intimidate you."

"You know that isn't true," he brushed a stray tendril of hair from her face. She shivered at the contact.

"I don't…"

"Because you're drunk," he slid down from the arm into the chair next to her. "Bones, I don't cross that line because you don't want me to cross that line. Is your intelligence and stuff scary? Yeah, but not in a bad way. It's sort of standing on the edge of a cliff. Breathtaking? Hell yeah. Scary? Double hell yeah. But awesome and beautiful," he turned to her. "That makes up for the scare."

"Do you mean that?" Brennan scooched a bit closer to him. They were sitting hip to hip.

She felt one of his strong arms reach around behind her. "Of course."

Feeling suddenly fearless from his assurances, she tilted her chin up, advancing her lips towards him.

"Whoa there Bones," he leaned back over the arm to avoid her.

"See, you are afraid," she grinned.

"Your breath smells like booze," he sat back up. "And I'm not kissing you while you're drunk."

"Why? Do you want to be drunk too?"

"Another time Bones," he smiled back.

"Well, I'll go home until you are ready," she sat up.

"You're not going home tonight, not in your condition."

"Then what are you going to do with me?" Part of Brennan knew that she was practically drooling over him with her inhibitions drastically lowered.

"You'll be staying here tonight."

"G-Great."

B&B

Just a quick thing I thought up and I hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are always welcome.

Twitter - Objectivemiss