Hey Everyone! How's everybody doing? I know I haven't posted here in a long time, and I haven't been writing much fiction. I did a big Non-fiction BONES project the past few months called the 100 Days of Bones, which you can check out if you want.

Anyways, but what I have been doing are these little one shots per episode, with Booth visiting with Dr. Wyatt, post Dwarf in the Dirt. I just think Booth needs someone he can talk to, someone who will tell him the truth. I hope you enjoy these. They aren't too long, each one, but hopefully they are in character.

Let me know what you think!

~Seels

Dwarf in the Dirt: The proposal for advice

Saturday evening…

"Whoa!" Booth hooked his hips in, hitching up onto his toes to avoid a near facial collision with a platter of what he hoped was chicken. He scanned the kitchen for Gordon Gordon, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes widened with the search.

"Agent Booth!" the small shout rang above the clatter and grease-hissing, over the slap of towels against lazy butts and the hum of excitement.

Booth's eyebrows rose as he mapped out a path from himself to the former Dr. Wyatt. He shrugged a shoulder and shoved his way in. "Look, chef… you've gotta do it again. What you said. It worked, and…"

"Of course it worked" Wyatt bragged, turning away and shouting near obscenities toward the wait staff. "But if it worked so well, then why are you here?"

"Well…" Booth rested his lean hips against the counter. "I was kind of hoping we could talk again, you know…about some other stuff."

Wyatt backed away and motioned toward the cacophony of sounds. "I'm afraid not, Agent Booth. Saturday nights are far too busy. It's just not possible."

Booth blinked and bit his bottom lip again, looking around. He pulled in a breath through his nose and then nodded, accepting the answer. "Okay. No problem. I got it."

He turned to leave and almost made it out the door before something hit him in the back of the head. He felt his hair and then looked to his feet to see a rather sorry looking shrimp. One eyebrow arched, he turned toward the thrower. Wyatt opened his palms in Booth's direction.

"Saturday nights are the most heavenly hells, but Sunday mornings are quiet. Come in tomorrow. At 10. Not a minute before."

Booth's mouth curved up on one side in a small smile. He lifted two fingers in a salute and backed out the door. "10."

…the next morning…10:01 AM

"Knock, knock" Booth motioned at the door. "Is it safe?'

"Safe?" Gordon Gordon scoffed. "Of course not, but please, please enter."

Booth grinned and shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked over to the counter, sliding into the stool that Wyatt offered. "So what was so important before 10 AM; you've got all your girlfriends hanging out in the back or something?"

"Mmmm…quite" Wyatt countered with a wry grin. "Almost as good…" he tapped a finger against his mug. "Tea and the New Yorker."

Booth chuckled and nodded, accepting the coffee that Dr. Wyatt poured for him. "Ah, getting better."

"Yes, well…" the chef sighed. "Apparently it's essential to managing a successful kitchen. I still despise the stuff, but I must admit that it does turn my rather lethargic staff into cuisine machines."

"Cuisine machines" Booth nodded and set his cup on the counter, circling the bottom with the tip of his finger. "I like that."

Wyatt eyed him for a moment. "I am sure you did not come all this way to practice rhyme, Agent Booth. Tell me, what is on your mind."

Booth's eyes flew up, and for a moment, he shrugged. "Well, I don't know. It's just…you know, like I said last night. What you said worked."

"Ah…so you excelled at your shooting, is that it?"

Booth shifted in his seat. "Yes. Bull's-eye, baby." He motioned in front of him with his index finger, straight as an arrow. "No question."

"Hmmm…yes, yes." Dr. Wyatt nodded. "And your lovely partner, she was…"

"Yeah, she was there" Booth cleared his throat and rested one elbow against the edge of the counter. "And that was nice." His tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek as he remembered the silent support she had offered him.

Gordon Gordon watched him for a moment before pouring himself another cup of tea. "Well, I do admit to being somewhat gratified by my ability to make a good suggestion, however, I fail to see why it was so urgent for you to tell me this."

"No, that's not…" Booth interrupted. "I mean, I wanted to tell you, but that's not why I'm here. I'm here because, I…" He cleared his throat. "I'm wondering if you would be willing to, you know…give me advice and stuff."

"Advice" Wyatt repeated. "And stuff?"

"You know…" Booth's brow furrowed. "The 'be a man' stuff, and what I need to hear, all of that."

"I see."

Booth waited as silence took over between them. Just as he was about to shrug and say forget it, Dr. Wyatt answered.

"And why are you not consulting with the young Dr. Sweets?"

"Sweets, he's…he's FBI, so his loyalties are also to that, and he is also loyal to Bones, and--"

"And I'm not?" Gordon Gordon interrupted.

"Nah, that's not what I'm saying. I know you care about Bones, too. I'm just saying that…it would really be nice to have someone to talk to. Sweets is great, sure, but still, we work together, and besides…"

"Besides what, Agent Booth?"

Booth's jaw tightened and his eyes darkened before he ran the edge of his fingernail against the groove of the counter. "And Sweets is young. It just would be nice to have someone older to talk to. Someone I can run ideas by, and get advice. That kind of thing. I don't really have that in my life, and…"

He didn't look up, but just kept his eyes on his finger, up and down the edge of the counter.

"Well, in that case" Wyatt said softly. "I accept. How do Sunday mornings such as this suit you?"

Booth's lips softened and he looked up. "I'd say it suits me just fine." He slid off his stool and walked toward the door, but at the last minute turned around. "And I'll bring my own coffee from now on."

His grin was wide and genuine and he laughed when Dr. Wyatt flipped him the bird.