I apologize in advance for the length of the A/N. It's ridiculous, I know.

Author's Note: Writer's. Block. Conquered. This is actually an unwritten outtake from my Adjectives series because even back then I couldn't get myself to write it! HAPPY BONES PREMIERE WEEK! THIS IS PRESENT 2/5. (As I stated in my "Senses" series, I am posting five, yes five, times this week because it's premiere week. I am going to drive you all insane).

Series Overview: Welcome to the second series in my "Parts of Speech" collection. (Yeah, I termed it). I will be writing off of/portraying random nouns in alphabetical order. Styles, topics, timelines, and genres will change, but one thing will almost always be the same: this is a Booth/Brennan story. Sometimes it may focus more on one of the two, but it will almost always involve B&B (which, as some of you have learned, I occasionally define differently). I tend to write the characters into situations I create that often times do not correspond with a particular episode/season from cannon. I do not know if there will be any outtakes, as I don't currently have any written, but we shall see. I'm considering creating a Twitter account for my "Parts of Speech" fans, but I want your input on that. As for a posting schedule, until I am finished with my "Senses" series, I'll post this once a week. I will reconsider a schedule once that is finished.

Setting: Haha to those of you familiar with my "settings." This is one of those without a definite timeline. I'm playing my "unimportant" card. Because I could do this, they're in a relationship. ENJOY!

The comparative study of human societies, cultures, and their development.

On both sides of the sofa the tableside lamps were on, illuminating the various papers, documents, and records scattered along cushions and the coffee table. The bed would have provided a larger surface area but both halves of the partners had agreed bringing work into bed would be a bad idea. However, as his back ached, Booth was reconsidering the decision.

It was late evening when they both left work and quickly turned into early morning, yet they continued to sift through the case files, cup of coffee after cup of coffee.

Booth stretched his arms above his head and twisted his spine to relieve tension before rubbing the days-old stubble forming on his cheeks and chin. Brennan, who had been counting, allowed him to perform this action seven times before inquiring why he had fashioned the sudden obsession of rubbing his jaw.

"I think I need to shave." Exhausted and, clearly, unable to make a decision, he asked, "What do you think?" The question was unusual, as he never normally consulted anyone with decisions like that.

"Anthropologically, many cultures view men with grown facial hair as wise, sexually virile, masculine, and of high standards. Mesopotamian civilizations devoted great care to oiling and dressing their beards, even going through great lengths to curl them."

He stopped rubbing his chin and blankly stared at her. Too confused by her reply to respond, or to notice she hadn't really answered his question, he picked up a file and continued studying the facts. Eventually, his fingers once more found the growth on his chin.

On this particular morning his hair was not cooperating. Every time he thought he fixed it, he would turn to admire his handiwork from a different angle and he would find another strand sticking up in an odd way.

Choosing which tie—a metallic appearing one with ridiculous shine—and what pair of socks—small stripes of reds, oranges, and yellows—had already taken him an unusually lengthy amount of time. He was hoping for a different outcome when he entered the bathroom.

That, clearly, hadn't happened. If it weren't for his important meeting maybe he would have cared less, but as it was, he wasn't going to stop until everything was perfect.

Holding her curling iron and makeup pouch, Brennan appeared at the door. Booth, smoothing the side of his hair down with even more hair product, looked over and stopped what he was doing. "Am I taking too long? Do you need the bathroom?"


He interrupted her "My hair isn't working." After smoothing everything one more time, he wiped his hands on a towel and showed her his hair from various angles. "How about now? Does it look alright now?"

"In the mountainous parts of Kenya, the Samburu tribe takes great pride in their appearance. They typically adorn themselves with lavish designs of beads, feathers, and copper. While your tie does not appear to be copper, it does have quite a lustrous appearance."

She left the bedroom to use the guest bathroom. Booth called, to no reply, "But does that mean I look alright?"

This Thanksgiving Booth was able to spend with both Bones and Parker. Ever the woman that she is, she hadn't ever watched Thanksgiving football. This year was supposed to be a great game, so Booth forced her to watch the Green Bay Packers battle the Detroit Lions. At first she gawked at the absurdity of the fans wearing foam slices of cheese on their heads, but soon enough she was cheering right along with the crazy Wisconsin Cheese-Heads.

One of the commercials involved a Santa figure which naturally prompted Booth to ask his son all about what he wanted for Christmas. Brennan had listened to most of their conversation but took no part in it.

Then Parker asked, "What about you, Bones? What are you asking Santa for?"

Instead of launching into her typical statement about how if Christ even was born he certainly wasn't born in December, she answered, "Instead of Santa Claus and Christmas on the 25th, the Lower Countries celebrate Sinterklaas on the 5th and 6th."

Both Booth boys stared at her with a look of bewilderment. After a pause, Parker turned back to his dad and started chatting all about the stuff he wanted. Booth tried to shoot her a look over his son's head of blond curls but she was too focused on the football game that had just resumed.

A large crash sounded behind the closed bedroom door, only one of many Brennan had previously heard. Clearly, as he had been getting dressed and practicing his speech, many things had gone awry.

The first crash came before she heard him mutter about his pen not working for him to write on notecards with. Then she heard him hit what she presumed was the shower wall when, as he claimed, "the water refused to warm up." There was also a clanking around in search of his toothpaste, a loud complaint about nicking himself with the razor, and some comment about how much he hates wearing "monkey suits."

A few silent seconds later she heard the door open and him call out, "Bones?" She stood up from her spot on the couch and placed a pen in her book to mark her place. They met halfway. "Does this tux make me look ridiculous? I feel ridiculous."

"The Bobo tribe of Burinka Faso is well known for the elaborate masks and outfits they wear for special occasions within the tribe."

Finally, after so many anthropological answers, realization dawned on him. Her replies had never been answers at all. "First with the history lesson on beards, then the Simba-Cookoo tribe and their feathers. You almost ruin Christmas for my son, and now you're comparing me to a group of monkey-clowns!"

She knitted her eyebrows in confusion. "The Bobo tribe is not a group of clowns, or monkeys, Booth. They are actually quite—"

"Bobo is a clown name, Bones." Slightly frustrated, he turned and walked back towards the bedroom door. Turning on his heels, he looked at her and requested she "shoot straight" with him.

"I don't know what that means." She saw the look on his face, an expression indicating her answer only irritated him more, so she added, "But I prefer if you have stubble it be very little because it can get itchy. Otherwise, I find that it suits you. Your tie was a bit flashy for my taste, but it was very Boothy and therefore worked. Your hair was fine, and I said nothing that would force Parker to lose his belief in the Christmas myth. Each culture has different celebrations."

She stepped close enough to him to adjust his crooked tie. "I find that you look rather… sexy in a tuxedo. The contrast between the pale coloration of your skin and the dark black of the suit is quite appealing to me."

His grin returned. "Oh yeah?" Her eyes flirted with his and he leaned down to capture her lips. "I wish you were coming with me tonight."

"I'll be back in two days, the short length of my trip unpleasing to my agent but quite pleasing to me," she answered, her tone deep and throaty.

She started to say something more about ancient Greeks, but he cut her off with a kiss. If that was what happened whenever she started stating Anthropology facts, she decided she would have to start using them more often, and he figured he'd have no choice but to cut her off with a kiss every time. Anthropology, his new favorite subject.