Disclaimer: I do not own or lay claim to anything even tenuously associated with Bones; it belongs to various individuals and corporations who are considerably more talented and well-off than myself. I am only playing with the aforesaid characters, situations, settings, etc. for my own amusement and am making no profit whatsoever from this (other than the bettering of my writing skills and my own amusement). No copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Also, Brennan's explanation of the pubic extension is taken almost word for word from Donald G. Barker's Factor Analysis of Body Hair Distributions in Volume 44, Issue 1 of the American Journal of Physical Anthropology.

A/N: My apologies to anyone who may have been waiting for the next chapter of Truisms. Not only have I hit the dreaded writer's block, but I've been ridiculously busy for the past few months.

This one-shot is set during 5x10: The Goop on the Girl. Because after all of the angst that Bones has been throwing at us this season, I needed some fluff.

"So…" Angela says expectantly.

Brennan stares at her blankly.

Angela lets out her breath in a disbelieving huff. "That scene earlier?"

"Booth had particulates on him that needed to be removed," Brennan responds in a clipped tone. "I removed them so that they would not become contaminated."

"Not what I was talking about, but interesting that that's the first place your mind went," Angela says calmly.

"To what were you referring, then?" Brennan asks.

"I seem to remember someone discussing a certain other someone's pubic region," Angela says, smirking. Like a bird of prey swooping in for the kill, she adds, "So, sweetie, exactly how do you know that that area of Booth's anatomy is well within the normal range?"

"I said that his pubic extension was entirely within the average," Brennan corrects. "And I know that due to basic anatomical familiarity of the homo sapien, extensive statistical research, and personal observation."

"Really," Angela drawls out hopefully. "Do tell."

Looking puzzled, Brennan opens her mouth only to be cut off.

"About the last one, that is."

"Personal observation?" Brennan asks, frowning quizzically. "You were there, Ange."

"Uh, no," Angela says, shaking her head. "I think I'd remember something like that. I mean, I remember the far too few chances I've had to ogle that piece of F.B.I. candy, and that area of him is definitely not on the list."

"Do you remember when you volunteered to assist in performing 'experiments' on Booth?" Brennan asks patiently.

"Yes," Angela says in a tone that practically reeks 'duh'.

"Then surely you remember seeing his pubic extension at that point in time."

Angela shakes her head.

"I saw his chest and legs, sweetie, not his pubes," she responds. "Now maybe you saw something else right before you rolled him out, but –"

"Angela," Brennan says, rolling her eyes, "you do know what the pubic extension is, right?"

"Um, I'm a sexually active adult, so… yeah," Angela responds amusedly.

Shaking her head, Brennan continues, "The pubic extension is one of the five independent components of body hair distribution. In this instance, I was referring to the dispersal pattern of Booth's chest hair."

Angela colors slightly.

"Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'," Brennan agrees. "It has absolutely nothing to do with his penis, as I believe you were implying."

"Well that just ruins all my fun."

"… and I think I just walked in on this conversation at the wrong time," Cam says, a mildly amused look on her face.

"Oh, Angela was just trying to figure out when I'd seen Booth's genitals," Brennan says.

Cam's eyebrows rise almost to her hairline.

"But it was all just a big misunderstanding," Angela rushes. "Brennan hasn't. Unfortunately."

"… right," Cam says slowly.

"Yes, Angela did not understand the meaning of the term 'pubic extension'," Brennan agrees sincerely.

Nodding her head, Cam says, "And with that, I think I'm going to go back to my office."

She turns on her heel and, shaking her head slightly, exits the examination platform.

In the pathologist's wake, Angela mutters defensively, "It sounded dirty."

"Angela, if I had seen Booth's genitals, do you really think I would have announced it to the entire lab, knowing Booth's prudish sensibilities?" Brennan asks reprovingly.

"Well… yes," Angela responds. "You don't tend to think those things through, Bren. Which is one of the reasons why I love you. See, I find your utter lack of discretion on sex to be refreshing… particularly when I'm going through a dry spell."

Brennan smirks briefly.

"What? You found my period of celibacy entertaining? 'Cause let me tell you, it was not," Angela half-jokes.

"No, just… something you said. It ran a humorous memory, that's all."

"It ran… oh, you mean it jogged a memory."

"That too," Brennan concedes.

"So, wanna share this 'humorous anecdote'?"

"I need to get back to work, Ange," Brennan remonstrates.

"Aw, c'mon, Bren. Be a pal."

Smiling, Brennan heads back to her office, Angela following her like an over-eager puppy.

"You are getting plenty of nukie now, rendering your need to live vicariously through my sexual exploits unnecessary."

Angela snorts.

"Nookie, sweetie, nookie. Nukie is an entirely different thing." She pauses then adds, "And just because I'm getting some doesn't mean that I don't welcome stories!"

"Goodbye, Angela," Brennan says amusedly.

"Don't think that I'm going to forget this," Angela informs her sternly. "You know, you used to be a lot better about sharing. I think Booth's puritanism is rubbing off on you."

Brennan merely snorts.

"I've hardly become puritanical," she says. "I merely pointed out that, were I ever to engage in a sexual relationship with someone like Booth, I would respect their desire for relative privacy."

"Brennan." Angela's voice is half-strangled, and about an octave higher with surprise.

"Yes?" she says.

"You just admitted that you would have sex with Booth."

"I did no such thing. I merely said that if I were to conceivably enter into a sexual relationship with someone who shared Booth's prudish sensibilities, I would attempt to be somewhat discreet."

Angela shakes her head in disbelief.

"Which, in Brennan-speak, means that you just admitted to wanting to have sex with him."

"Psychology is a soft science," Brennan scoffs. "You are pulling your hypothesis out of thin air. Figuratively speaking, of course."

"Just keep telling yourself that," Angela says with a sigh.

"Why would I tell myself something? That would hardly be productive," Brennan says, bemused.

"Of course it wouldn't," Angela says.

"That is what I just said."

"You know what, you're right, Bren," Angela says, defeated.

"Thank you."

"We do need to get back to work."

Angela starts to leave the office, only to be stopped by Brennan's voice.

"Oh, by the way, Angela, do you have any plans for Christmas Eve?"

"Not yet. Why?"

"Well, I… I was considering hosting a Christmas dinner at my apartment. If you are available, I would welcome your presence. Of course, I do not believe in the fictitious Christmas story, but I have been informed that Christmas is a time for family, and you are part of my family, so – "

Angela cuts her rambling off by giving her a hug.

"I'd love to come," she tells her friend firmly. "And… thank you. I think of you as family, too. You know that, right?"

"I do now," Brennan says quietly, face mildly flushed with embarrassment and pleasure.

"Well, I do," Angela reiterates. "So, I'll definitely see you at your dinner. Who else is coming?"

"Thus far, my father, a cousin from Minnesota whom I've never met, and yourself. I have also invited Booth, but he hasn't made a decision yet. I intend to ask everyone else in our 'family'."

"I'm proud of you, sweetie," Angela says, squeezing her friend tightly one last time. "E-mail me the details."

And as she heads back to her office, Angela finds herself humming a jaunty Christmas tune.

That went better than expected.

She makes a note to herself to hide that book that she bought on human anatomy. Playing ignorant provides her with so many opportunities… no wonder Brennan does it so often.

She smirks and continues to hum merrily.

It's going to be a good Christmas.