Warning:There will be cussing. There will be violence. There will be sex. And there will be a great many liberties taken with the characters we know and love, and the world they live in. Just go with it.

Summary: Seeley Booth is in college working towards his required degree for admission to the FBI and he crosses paths with one Temperance Brennan. Told from alternating points of view, starting with Booth.

Disclamer: I don't own Bones, if I did I wouldn't be writing fanfic would I?

Seeley Booth was no stranger to parties. The parties he and his housemates threw were well known in the area, and frequented by students from the nearby colleges. It didn't hurt that the house was built for parties; a three story five bedroom colonial with a wraparound porch, massive yard and wrought-iron fencing.

The social standard was nonexistent for them, and people who normally wouldn't go near a party put on by guys in a public university would drive across town, just to be able to say they were at one of their parties. It could have been that Booth and his housemates were at least four to six years older than most of the students who came to their parties, lending them an air of sophistication. Or that they had all been in the Army, though not in the same unit, making them knight like and mysterious. And of course many of the girls at the party had pronounced 'Daddy issues', and wanted an older man. Whatever it was, Booth and his friends knew how to throw a damn good party. There were enough people lining up these days that the guys at the gate could be exclusive with who they let in, filling the house with athletes, artists and beautiful scantily clad women.

Seeley Booth, however, was bored. He stood on the landing above the main floor, watching the crowded mass of bodies move below him like a single being. He remembered when he had thought these parties fun, when he would have been at the sweaty center of the mass on the floor. After his breakup with Rebecca this had been is only sanctuary. And he had relished it, losing himself in acres of flesh, miles of legs, and the sweet amnesia of drunken sex; but in the end all that had left him hollow. As though the girls he had tried to use to fill the hole Rebecca had left had only widened and deepened it until it became a gaping abyss of . . . nothing. And now no one would ever, could ever, be enough to fill that; to make him happy.

He leaned against the wall, dreading even making an appearance at the party, and wondered if anyone would notice if he didn't show. The guys certainly would, and I'd never hear the end of it. No; I have to go, if only to avoid the third degree tomorrow morning.

He sighed as he began down the stairs and through the house, If it wasn't for horndogs like Sully and Walt we probably wouldn't throw these things anymore. He sidestepped a group of young women wearing more makeup than clothes and made his way through the rooms, too deep in thought to pay attention to the people around him. These girls are too needy, no self respect, no drive. Ugh. I need something new, something different.

He dodged through the kitchen to the rear patio and breathed a sigh of relief. It had become a habit for the senior guys in the house and their friends to share a bottle of Scotch and a few cigars on the covered patio. He walked toward the card table and trimmed his cigar into the ashtray and lit it with a match before pouring himself two fingers of Scotch.

"What did I tell you?" Charlie began, "Nothing worth chasing. It's the same girls over and over and over."

"Where have you been Seel? Don't tell me it's that blonde again? What is it with you and blondes?"

Booth sank into his favorite chair, one of the five old chairs and recliners that had been sacrificed as outdoor furniture.

"Shut up Walt." Booth let the blue smoke escape into the air around him, "I was thinking about hiding in my room."

Walt laughed, gagging on his Scotch, Booth grinned, messing with Walt was always good times.

"So where's Sully?" Charlie looked around expectantly.

"Bro has some flexible standards; he may still be in there." Walt coughed, still recovering from the Scotch.

"I didn't see him as I came through; he's probably off with Drew, planning some idiotic practical joke." Booth rolled the cigar in his fingertips and looked at Charlie.

Charlie leaned back in his recliner, "Fuck, that's just what we need, another one of his jokes. You guys remember the Noodle Incident?"

Booth looked darkly at Charlie, "What part of 'this never happened, we're never speaking of this again' did you not understand?"

Walt, still laughing at Booth's reaction, stood and stretched, "We should probably see what he's up to, just in case."

Booth carefully put out his cigar and glared at Charlie, "I'm going for a walk."

"Do you need a buddy to go with you? Just in case there's a watermelon?"

"FUCK YOU."

Charlie collapsed against his chair, laughing at Booth's retreating back.

Booth walked down the porch toward the side of the house, still fuming over Charlie's inability to keep his mouth shut, when he heard a noise.

Is that . . . giggling?

Booth slipped around the corner to see Sully and Drew hauling what looked like a body along the side of the house to their car. He walked to them as quietly as he could, not wanting to draw attention from Charlie. With his luck this would be yet another prank that Charlie would also not shut up about.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"SHHHH!" more giggling, "Look what we found, man."

In the shadow of the house Booth got no help from the street lamps to tell much about the person they were carrying, other than it was small, probably female, and completely unconscious. Sully was obviously wasted, and when he got wasted he got goofy. And Drew, well, where Sully went Drew followed. Booth sighed and thanked every saint he could think of that he happened to be mostly sober. He looked down at the girl they had found, passed out, somewhere on the property. Sully carried her shoulders, and Drew had a tentative grip on her ankles.

"Where did you find that girl, and what the hell are you doing?"

"She was in the bushes." Drew tossed his head in the direction they had come, "We're going to keep her."

"You're going to what now?"

"Keep her." Drew grinned, pleased with himself.

"You know, take care of her, wash her hair, get the dirt off of her, feed her . . ." Sully gazed down at the unconscious girl, a dreamy, wistful look in his eyes.

"No, you're not."

"Why?"

"Because she's a person, not a dog, and you guys are drunk. You're in no condition to get her anywhere. She stays with me."

"oooOOOoooohhhh I see how it is," Sully met Booth's eyes, "you just want to take her to your room and have her to yourself, is that it?"

"What? No that's not –"

"I'm ashamed of you Seeley Booth; she could be a nice girl! You can't, I won't let you. She's mine, I found her. Finders keepers!"

Arguing with Sully was difficult when he was sober, as a drunk his logic was near impossible to follow. But Booth knew the kind of trouble that would come from Sully and Drew taking any girl home in their condition, let alone one that had no say in the matter.

"You can't keep her."

"But I'll take care of her."

"No."

Drew looked at Booth, dejected and pitiful. "Why not, we're good guys."

"You're drunk guys. She stays with me, here."

Booth scooped the girl up in his arms, not listening to Sully and Drew commiserating behind him. He knew Drunk Sully would try and get him back, if he remembered what happened. But Booth wasn't worried, all he had to do was get to Sober Sully and explain what happened, and things should be alright.

Booth made his way through the house to the stairs, taking the girl to his room. The locks on the doors ensured that no one, not even Sully, would get in; it was the one place in the house where he knew for sure no one would take advantage of her prone state. As Booth walked up the stairs he noticed for the first time how light she was, her head rested on his shoulder, and it looked for all the world as though he was just carrying his date to bed.

But she's not my date, she's some kid who had way too much to drink.

What Booth didn't see, what no one saw, was the man with brown hair and a tailored blazer silently fuming as he watched Booth carry the unconscious girl up the stairs.

Author Note: Gods I am so nervous. I hope you like it, I've never shared my fanfic before, so this is all new to me. If you have experience as a Beta and some free time, I could probably use one, please let me know if you are interested. Thank you for reading!

Edit: I noticed a few typos and fixed them, if you find any more or anything that reads in a confusing way, let me know so I can fix it!