Author's Note: With all this recent ballet speculation, I rifled out a little dialogue humor between B&B on a spoiler fanforum. Figured I'd share here to amuse everyone. =)

He's amused. On her behalf, or at her expense as the case seems to be. Her frown isn't a pout. It's a glower, she huffily maintains.

"You can't dance," he gloats.

Her pout--glower!--intensifies.

"You shouldn't mock my apparent lack of coordination. It isn't amusing, and I find it a little rude."

"Sorry," he smiles. He isn't.

"I told you I was gawky as a child."

"I remember," he chuckles. When her eyes become bluer, more put off, his teasing nature melts away. "Alright. Come here."

She regards him doubtfully, if a little cautiously, but takes his proffered hands nonetheless. "You're going to join ballet to help me?"

"Whatever." But he's instantly on the defense. "No, no. This is your thing, okay? What I am prepared to do is help you with your ballet. Not become some kind of twirling man-sissy. Big difference, Bones, jeez." She's amused at him now, and he frowns (pouts). "Don't look at me like that. Guys who join ballet are just..."


He squirms. "Look, it's not that they can't join or do just as good--"

"Just as well." Her correction is automatic.

"--just as... it's not that they can't, you get me? It's whether or not they should. And they shouldn't, just to be clear and avoid any confusion. It'd be like a girl playing football. Totally unnatural." He shudders for effect.

A finely sculpted brow arches skeptically at him. "I find your stereotypes a little perturbing. You should know that I could carry my own on the court."

"Field." His correction is equally automatic. "And hey," he begins more gently, catching her eyes with his. "I don't need you to play football with me to know just how tough you are."

Another moment befalls them, and she's becoming less and less opposed to them. Which makes her a little nervous. Even more unsettling, she's no longer uncomfortable by them anymore.

Immediately, discomfited by her lack of discomfort, she breaks the silence. "I think I understand. And I must say that I concur, because now I'm picturing you in tights and the result is quite disturbing."

He looks suitably horrified. "Ugh, ew. Why'd you even have to put that image in my head? Seriously. You know what? I promise you, Seeley Booth will never be caught dead wearing tights. Ever. Never ever."

"Your analogy makes no sense. But I apologize nonetheless for the unpleasantness."

"Good, thank you." There's a twitch at his lips. "Although now I'm picturing you in shoulder pads and black war-paint and it's surprisingly adorable."

"Shut up and dance."