Thanks for all the support for my last fic. I can never tell y'all how much I appreciate it. The following takes place after 'The Beaver in the Otter,' but can include references to any previous episodes. This will more than likely contain some out-of-character-ness. As you'll see, I'm progressing, and will quite possibly be writing smut before too long. I haven't decided if that's good or bad (no pun intended). Enjoy!

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"Oh my God!" Brennan squealed breathlessly.

Booth laughed as he peeled away from the curb, glad to be witnessing Brennan's uncharacteristic excitement.

"Now I understand why people feel the need to be bad. The rush is incredible!" She threw her head back and laughed, adrenaline pumping through her like never before. "I should have been bad a long time ago," she said as she turned sideways in the seat to face Booth.

Booth continued to laugh, but cast her a sideways glance. "But then I might not have been there to help you celebrate your first trip to the dark side."

"'First trip?' Implying that we'll have further forays into being bad," she said with a grin.

"Well, you can only be bad so much before it becomes boring, but, yeah." He briefly glanced at her. "Will you put on your seatbelt?"

"No, I'm being bad," she smirked.

"You're being stupid. What if I lost control and we smashed into something? You'd go head first through the windshield."

"You don't lose control," Brennan returned.

"Bones…"

"Okay," she conceded, shifting in the seat and clicking the buckle into place.

"Thank you," he said, noticing his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. He took a deep breath and lessened his grip.

"But just for the record, you don't always wear yours, either."

Booth knew there was no use arguing; she had a point. "So, what's the worst thing you've ever done?"

"You mean bad?"

"Yes."

"Running out tonight without paying."

Booth bit back a grin. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. Our conversation about my lack of badness preceded our running out."

Booth grinned. "You never made out at the movies?"

"I never went to movies."

"Never snuck boys into your room?"

"No one wanted to date the weird girl."

"Their loss," Booth muttered.

Brennan grinned to herself, part of her secretly enjoying when he mumbled comments like that.

Mile after mile, they drove on, Booth never able to dig up any 'bad' in Brennan's past.

"You never did it in the backseat?" he asked, wondering if this was the worst game of 'Twenty Questions' he'd ever played.

"Did what?"

"Come on, Bones. Really?" He glanced at her, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, sexual intercourse. Nope, never anywhere illegal."

Booth sighed, punctuated by a chuckle.

"You think I'm boring, don't you, Booth?"

"No, I just think that a lot of guys were really stupid."

"Stop," Brennan insisted.

"It's true."

"No, stop the vehicle."

"Why?"

In a very un-Brennan-like movement, she reached over and placed her hand on his thigh. "I want to be bad."

Booth gripped the wheel once again, his only thought being words Brennan said earlier: 'You don't lose control.' Little did she know.

"Booth?"

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Bones," he uttered, squirming under her touch.

She sighed, but didn't remove her hand from his thigh. "With whom will I be good if I can't first be bad?"

Booth wondered when she'd learned to turn his own words against him--so convincingly, too.

"Don't you want to work your way up the bad ladder? Start with something small? I mean, sex in the backseat is way up at the top of the ladder."

She removed her hand. "I'm just trying to prevent my frontal lobe from becoming a dried up raisin, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," Booth agreed, taking a deep breath. "But I have a feeling your frontal lobe is already the size of a grape," he smirked.

"Really?" Brennan laughed. "We probably did the right thing, though I have no doubt we would have been bad enough to be oh-so-good.

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Thanks for reading!