Okay, I swore that I was going to take a week off writing and recharge. But then I remembered that this one was almost done, so I figured I would throw the ending on and call it done...and then it happened. I innocently sent the unfinished part to Skole, hoping she could give me a suggestion on how to end it. What I got back was...simply genius. And I couldn't resist using it. So I need to thank her desperately for that. Of course, it made the whole thing about 1500 words longer than I planned, but what the hell. :)

~Enjoy!

The Digression in the Dodge

Driving past a sign that proclaimed, "Welcome to Virginia!", Booth slowed the car down and pulled over to the side of the road.

"Bones, do you have the directions to this farmhouse we're supposed to find? I think I might be a little lost from here."

Brennan rolled her eyes. "I told you we should have taken my Prius, Booth. I have GPS navigation."

"And you and I both know why we're lost, Bones."

Are you insinuating something, Agent Booth?

"Oh ho…there she is. Jumped right in, didn't you? Why, feeling guilty?"

Why would I have a reason to feel guilty?

"Booth is under the impression that you are writing us into a bad situation for some sort of nefarious purpose. I, however, have seen no evidence of wrongdoing on your part."

Thanks for your faith, Brennan.

"No evidence yet. I am still collecting information."

*sigh*

"Ha! You tell her, Bones!"

"Booth, you're not helping."

Just get back to the story, okay?

Brennan turned the map towards Booth. "Okay, so…it looks as though we need to turn left about 45 miles up ahead."

"Great. Let's get going." Booth put the car in gear and pulled back out onto the highway. After about ten miles, Booth's stomach growled loudly.

"Time for lunch, Booth?"

Booth rolled his eyes in Brennan's direction. "Hey, it's been hours since breakfast. I need to feed the machine on a regular basis."

Hmmm.

"What?"

Oh, I'm sorry. I was just sitting here wondering if you would actually say, 'I need to feed the machine'. It seems out of place to me.

"Do you often stop mid-story and contemplate simple lines of dialogue like that?"

"Don't you do the same thing when you write, Bones?"

"Well, since I am a fictional character, I don't actually write the books they talk about, so I honestly don't know if I do or not. Perhaps we should ask the writers the next time they start a script."

"Not a good idea, Bones. Remember what happened last time we interrupted them mid-script?"

"Oh…yes. We were separated for seven months and you came back with-"

"Don't even go there, Bones. Let's move on from that, like we agreed. Right?"

"Right. Sorry."

Seriously? The Bones writers did that whole twist of breaking up the team because you kept butting in while they wrote the scripts?

"That is what we were led to believe, yes."

Geez. Seems kind of drastic.

"I agree."

"Yeah, drastic. Like dying my penis blue."

Hey, now that was funny!

"She's right Booth, it was amusing."

"No, it wasn't. You should know that Bones called me Papa Smurf for a week after that!"

Heh. Nice, Bren.

"I've apologized for that, Booth. Can we let that go, now?"

"Yeah, yeah…anyway, I wanted to request that when we do stop and get something to eat, could you have me order something besides a cheeseburger? I mean, look at me! I obviously eat better than they show me eating on TV in order to make it possible to maintain this body, so could you maybe get me a chicken salad or something?"

"He would probably enjoy a side of fresh seasonal fruit, as well. If you don't mind."

Hey, no problem. Whatever makes you happy, Booth.

"Awesome. You know what else would make me happy?"

What?

"If you could find us a nice diner so we can get something to eat."

Deal. Hang on.

Booth pulled into the slightly run-down looking greasy spoon that was so far off the road they had almost passed it. Exiting the car, he patted his stomach and grinned. "This place looks great, Bones! I would kill for a nice, sloppy cheeseburger right about now."

"I don't believe you would actually commit murder simply to obtain sustenance, Booth. Your hyperbole confounds me sometimes." Brennan shook her head, leading the way into the dubious-looking establishment.

"I suppose we're overlooking the fact that you promised Booth he wouldn't get a cheeseburger?"

Just work with me here, Brennan. I have a classic fan fic cliché I planned on busting out, so don't worry. Booth will get his rabbit food.

"Great. Thanks. And I assume I will be ordering fries, half of which Bones will steal?"

Of course. This isn't my first rodeo with you two, you know.

Both were taken aback when they entered the restaurant and realized that it looked almost exactly like the Royal Diner back home.

"Wow, Bones…it's almost like our diner, with some slight differences. Like someone just redecorated it a little bit. Weird."

Nodding in agreement, Brennan naturally navigated to the table that corresponded with their regular seats in their diner back home. Motioning to the table, she looked back to Booth. "Is this okay, or would you rather sit at the counter?"

"Nah, this is good. It seems…right, somehow."

They settled into their chairs on opposite sides of the table. Picking up their menus, they gave them a cursory look before realizing simultaneously that all diner menus are essentially the same. When the waitress finally came over, they ordered their usuals…or rather, Booth tried to order his usual, until Brennan decided that now was the perfect time for a lecture on his eating habits. Acknowledging the waitress's eye roll with one of his own, Booth gave in for the sake of his growling stomach and ordered a chicken salad with a side of fresh fruit. His only concession to his own appetite was an extra large basket of fries. Not surprisingly, Brennan lodged no complaint against the greasy, unhealthy culinary addition to his order.

Happy now?

"Yes, actually. I am. Although…with your track record, I'm a little suspicious."

Oh, come on Booth. Seriously? I just want you to be happy, okay? I wouldn't do anything to your food, I promise.

"I believe her, Booth. She has never done anything dangerous or inherently cruel to you thus far. I am sure that your food will be fine."

"You don't think that shrinking my junk to microscopic levels was 'inherently cruel', Bones? Because I sure as hell do."

Look, I'll apologize for the Smurf penis. That was uncalled for. But as for the incredible shrinking pee pee, you ruined what was supposed to be a nice, smutty one shot by backing out of the actual sex. I think my readers will agree with me that the punishment fit the crime.

*sigh* "Fine. But you could have messed with something less sensitive."

Next time I shall endeavor to be more careful around your genitalia. And your whittle feewings.

"Snark doesn't become you."

I kind of think it does.

"Can we please get back to the story?"

Sorry, Brennan. Here we go…

Booth and Brennan chatted quietly about the case while waiting for their food. Once it arrived, they dug in hungrily, with Brennan inevitably stealing half of Booth's fries while Booth complained about missing his usual cheeseburger. Once they were finished, they argued over the check and headed out.

"You know, we never actually argue over the check."

I figured as much, but it is a fan fic staple, and highlights Brennan's independent tendencies.

"She really is very independent. It's a total turn on, too."

"Really? You like that I am so self-sufficient? Most men find it intimidating."

"Nah, it's hot, Bones. I love that you don't need me, but you want me."

"I never looked at it that way…I find that I am aroused as well. Very aroused."

"Lets get back to the car. Now."

Now wait a minute…I hadn't planned on you two having sex in the car. You're throwing off my mojo.

"Don't you think we deserve this, considering what you've put us through in some of your stories?"

Hey, I get you laid plenty, buddy.

"Yeah, but you killed Angela! That was messed up."

It was just a story! She's not actually dead, you know.

"But still…it was very upsetting."

You're killing me, Smalls.

"I don't know what that means."

"Movie reference, Bones. We'll rent it this weekend. It's a kid's movie, but it's a classic. You'll love it."

"I seriously doubt that. But I am willing to accept your opinion if it gets us into that car sooner."

"Awesome. Let's do this thing, then."

*sigh* Fine. But I want to state that I am writing this scene under protest.

"So noted. Now, get him naked."

Booth and Brennan shared heated looks as they exited the diner, an unspoken communication passing between them. Once they reached their car, a quick look around assured them that they were alone and spurred them into action. They climbed into the backseat together, and soon a flurry of flying clothes was all that was visible through the suddenly-foggy windows.

"You're not going to write the sex scene, are you?"

Nah. I'm not feelin' it. But look at it this way, implied or explicit, you're still getting some. That has to count for something. Right?

"I suppose. But I still think it just makes you look lazy."

Hey Brennan, what is your favorite color?

"I have always loved the color yellow. Why?"

Because I figured that if I am, once again, going to give Booth's franks and beans the Turner Treatment, the least I could do was make it look nice for you.

"The Turner Treatment?"

Yes, like Ted Turner…colorizing old black and white movies?

"Hey! You said you weren't going to do that again!"

That was before you called me lazy.

*sigh* "Fine. I am very sorry that I said, or even implied, that you are anything but enthusiastic about your writing."

Was that snarky? It sounded snarky to me.

"I believe in his sincerity. I know he does not want you to manipulate the natural hue of his penis again. Right, Booth?"

"Yes! I swear, I am being sincere!"

Alright, alright….calm down. Apology accepted. And I'm still not writing the sex scene.

"That's fine, I'm done here anyway."

"Wow, Bones…that was fast. I am good."

"You really are, Booth. I am, as always, impressed by your sexual prowess."

Come on, you guys. Get dressed.

"Right. Hey, where are we going again?"

"Booth…are you suffering from reduced mental acuity due to the postprandial effects of lunch?"

"Wha? Effects of postpartum what?"

"Postprandial. After eating."

"Bones, why don't you just say stuff like normal people?"

"I prefer precise language. It is more expedient."

"Not if you have to explain yourself every other sentence."

"I-alright. I accept your hypothesis."

"Did you have anything to do with that?"

What? Me? I didn't do anything!

"I just won that argument! I NEVER win an argument with her!"

So, bask in the glory of your rare success and move on. You know…farmhouse? Suspects to interrogate? Ring any bells?

"She is correct, Booth. We need to get going."

"Fine. Let's go."

Booth pulled out of the still-quiet parking lot of the diner and got them back on the interstate. Not ten miles after they resumed their trip, Booth began to squirm in his seat, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"Booth…you know that I am intimately acquainted with your sexual tells, correct?"

"What are you talking about, Bones?"

"You're sexually aroused!"

"What? I am not!"

"Could I interject here for a moment?"

Certainly, Brennan. What's the problem?

"Well, as much as I abhor pointing out anything that might cause Booth embarrassment…"

"Now that's a lie."

"Let me finish, Booth. As I was saying, I don't want Booth to feel inadequate, but it does normally take him, on average, about thirty minutes to recover sufficiently from sexual activity, which is the statistical norm for a man of his age. So his current condition is out of the ordinary for him."

"Gee, thanks Bones."

"You're entirely welcome."

Can I interject here? I'd like to address Brennan's concerns.

"By all means."

Snarky, Booth. Very snarky. Anyway, there is a reason Booth is sportin' a woody so soon after rocking your world in the backseat of the Dodge. In fan fic world, Booth is always imbued with near-mythic ability to recharge after sex. I am simply utilizing a well-loved Seeley Booth characteristic. Plus, it's a win/win, right?

"You are correct. I find it intriguing that you can manipulate Booth to my whim, so to speak. Will we be having sex sometime soon?"

I know what happens, but I can't tell you. That wouldn't be any fun.

"C'mon, really? That's kind of mean."

Hey, it's my story. Let me tell it my way.

"But still…you could do something with us other than another forty miles of driving, followed by a boring interview with less-than-stellar suspects. Maybe some kind of action sequence?"

You're not happy with the way I am guiding the story, Booth?

"Well, it is kind of boring. Sorry."

Mmmm. Okay, gotcha. More action, coming right up.

"Booth…while I am not normally one for using my gut, something tells me that this is not going to end well for you."

"Well, if you are not aroused, then what is wrong, Booth? Do you need to urinate?"

Booth's eyes widened. "Uh…no. No, I'm fine."

"Clearly you are not fine. You are unsettled in your seat, and you have clenched your gluteus muscles several times in the last few minutes."

"Bones! I'm fine, I just…" Booth abruptly pulled the car over to the side of the road, in sight of a dense row of trees just off to the side. He gripped the steering wheel tightly for a moment, ignoring Brennan's questioning look, before suddenly flinging the door open. He circled the car and ran for the trees, hands on his belt buckle. He pulled at the fastener desperately as he disappeared behind the grove of oak trees.

"What did you do to him?"

Oh, just giving him some action.

"Is he…did you inflict him with gastric distress?"

Mmm. Maybe.

"That is very cruel."

I'm sorry, but he complains too much.

"I concur. But you know that he is going to be very angry when he comes back."

Oh, I know.

"And the scenario you've posited is completely improbable. I assume he has Salmonella?"

Yep.

"You realize that the symptoms of Salmonella take hours to manifest themselves, not minutes?"

I know. But that's the nice thing about fan fiction. I can mention squinty diseases and sciency stuff and I'm not actually required to be accurate about any of it. Heck they do it on the show all the time.

"I suppose that does make sense. They do take liberties with DNA testing and certain aspects of investigative forensics on the television show quite often. And I certainly can't complain about your writing, I did have what I can only describe as an earth-shattering orgasm earlier."

See? Another fan fiction cliché. You always have mind-blowing sex with Booth. Heck, even sometimes with Angela. Cam, too on occasion.

"Really?"

You seem intrigued.

"I just never…hmmm. What an interesting idea."

You're interested in something different? Because I would be happy to hook you up. I've done it before.

"I think that I might, actually."

"Hey! What are you two talking about? I'm dying over here and you two look like you're having a fine old time."

Oh, calm down, Booth. You're going to live.

"I can't believe that you did that to me. I thought you liked me."

Oh, I do. But you can be petulant, and I feel the need to reign you in on occasion.

"I am not a child."

Then quit acting like one.

"Hey Bones, do you have any antacids in your purse? Bones?"

"Hmmm? Oh. No, Booth I don't. I am sorry."

"Bones? You look…I don't know…something. What's going through that head of yours?"

"Nothing, Booth. Are you feeling better? Ready to get going?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. No thanks to her."

Quit glaring at me. You've completely recovered.

"For now, right?"

No, I'll leave your stomach alone now.

"Great. Can we get this show on the road?"

Yeah, I guess. Although now I'm kind of bored with this story. I suddenly have an idea for another little one shot for Brennan.

"For me? Is it…about what we were discussing earlier?"

Sure, why not? Any particular protagonist?

"I trust your judgment."

Awesome. I'll get right on that.

"What is going on? What were you discussing earlier?"

"Nothing, Booth. Just an idea we were pitching around."

Tossing around.

"Thank you."

"Hey, it's my job to correct her when she gets a common euphemism incorrect! I enjoy doing that, you know. Makes me wonder what else you're going to take away from me."

"Let's get going, Booth. You're acting oddly."

"Fine. Not that it matters, seeing as how this story isn't going to be finished anyway."

Okay, I'm out of here.

"Have a lovely evening. Will I see you later?"

You bet you will, Brennan. Count on it.

"Wonderful. I look forward to it."

"What the hell is going on?"