A/N: Okay, I know what you're thinking. "Everybody has seen The Princess Bride. Jimmy Hoffa has seen The Princess Bride. Fred Phelps has seen The Princess Bride, and so have each of his thirteen children."

Well, as factual as this may be, for the purposes of this fic there is one person who has not-

Take a wild guess as to who.



"What do you mean you've never seen The Princess Bride?" Booth regarded Brennan over his takeout box of chow mien, his look seemingly having flown past the realm of disbelief and into the purely unimaginable. "Who the hell are you, Norma Desmond?"

"I don't-" he anticipated the words before they fell from her mouth. His hand went up like a traffic cops' and he shook his head.

"Don't even say it." Booth saw his partner's grin in his peripherals and couldn't suppress a smile himself, loving how routine things like this had become with her. "The only thing that matters right now is that you haven't seen that movie. Damn, Bones, the freckin' pope has probably seen Princess Bride."

"I doubt it." Shrugged Brennan, slurping up the doughy noodles in a very unladylike manner. Booth rolled his eyes but decided not to make any further comment, rising slowly from his seat and walking to his television. "Booth, what are you doing? We're supposed to be looking over case files!" Seeing him bend over to look at the DVDs in his collection, she scoffed. "Murder doesn't stop so we can watch The Princess Bride, Booth."

"Bones, number one rule of my house:" He flashed the case with a cocky smile "Everything stops for The Princess Bride."


"I rather enjoyed that." Commented Brennan as the credits began to roll and Booth rose to turn on the lights. "I found it very…intriguing."

"Everything intrigues you, Bones. It's what makes you Bones." There was silence for a moment as the Agent shuffled back over to the couch and reopened the case files, realization dawning all over his face "But I did draw a few parallels between you and a certain character."

"What! Who!"

"Farm boy, polish my horse's saddle. I want to see my face shining in it by morning!" Booth said in his best mock-Buttercup voice (one he did surprisingly well). Brennan scoffed in indignation. "Farm boy, fill this pitcher with water!"

"Are you saying that I'm Buttercup and you're Westley?"

"Correction. I am the Dread Pirate Booth." He paused for a second and began to giggle, shaking his head. "Aw, man. Now every time you demand something from me I'm going to say 'as you wish'"

"I do not demand. I ask."

"In a demanding way."

"And anyway, every time Westly said 'as you wish', it meant 'I love you', remember?"

"Yeah." Booth said wistfully, a broad grin spreading over his features. He stared at her for a moment, a look that was completely inexplicable to Brennan, but might be described by others as 'pure affection' settling itself on his face.

"So, you wouldn't say as you wish," she cleared her throat and refused to meet his eyes "because of the, erm… connotation."

"Right." He nodded slowly, his face falling into an almost saddened guise, though a hint of a smile still tugged at the corners of his mouth "connotation. We wouldn't want that."

"Hey!" She said, her voice reaching an overly-chipper octive "How about you get two more beers from the fridge and we'll finish these files tonight. Have all weekend to ourselves."

He nodded shuffled back to the kitchen, mumbling words that she barely caught before he opened the fridge.

"As you wish..."