Here's something purely for fun since the two stories I've done in the aftermath of Male In The MailRoom have been of a serious bent. I hope you enjoy this short one. Gregg.
Disclaimer: I don't own, or profit from, these characters or franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Clark Addison walked a bit nervously into the shooting range at the FBI Headquarters. He didn't see any agents around except the one who had called him up suddenly and asked him to come on down. It wasn't that Agent Booth made him nervous. On the contrary he admired and respected Agent Booth a great deal. The man was confident, hard working, and genuinely cared about the people around him. The very qualities that Clark himself tried to have. But the fact that the man had called him to the shooting range made him nervous. He was startled when a rapid fire sequence went off. He mentally counted fifteen shots. He gulped, now officially afraid. One agent, one squint, and one gun. Not good odds for the lone squint.
"Agent Booth?" he asked, clearing his throat and trying to sound as normal as possible.
Booth turned and smiled. Ah, there he was. The kid he needed to have a little chat with on the QT. He only hoped Bones didn't get wind of it, or conjugal bliss would be a thing of the past!
"Come on over, Clark," he said as he brought the target to him and hung a new one. This one was a different one, but would allow him to make a point.
"You wanted to see me, Agent Booth?" Clark asked, his voice hovering between confidence and fear. Let's face it, Booth with a gun in hand was a scary sight.
"I was talking with Bones last night," Booth said conversationally as he put a new clip into the gun and worked the action, chambering a round. "It seems some people are a little too observant these days about Bones and her physical changes."
Clark's eyes widened and he damn near fainted. "Really?" he managed to squeak out. He mentally prayed that he could return to work with all his parts intact and in working order. The worst part was he hadn't done anything wrong and had taken his verbal miscues all from Dr. Brennan's less than clear comments!
"Yep," Booth said, giving a theatrical sigh. "Seems that someone is paying a bit more attention to her breasts than he should, and not enough attention on his job. Now Bones isn't thinking that, as she is real keen on observation, but I'm not Bones, now am I?"
"No, Sir! No one could make that mistake!" Clark shot out right away.
Booth quirked a brow, deciding to tease the kid. "Is that a comment on my intelligence level?" he questioned.
"Oh, no!" Clark started to really sweat. "It's just obvious that she's a woman and you're a man."
"Good," Booth replied, mentally chuckling at how easy it was to scare the piss out of the squints when he wanted to. "I need your help, Clark," he continued.
"Anything!" Clark agreed even before hearing what it was. He was sweating profusely at the moment and wanting nothing more than to get the Hell out of there and make tracks to the nearest church and repent of all his sins and swear to never pay attention to anything that Dr. Brennan may be doing to her person.
"See this target sheet?" Booth gestured to the new sheet on the clip.
Clark looked at it and paled. On it were five heads. He recognized the scientist Dr. Michael Stires, and Assistant Deputy Director Andrew Hacker of the FBI. The other three were unknown to him.
"Yeah?" he replied.
"These schmucks have either disrespected Bones, slept with Bones, or lusted after her, since I've known her," Booth explained. "Stires here disrespected her and slept with her. This piece of shit is my former friend, and colleague, Sully, who slept with her and tried to get her to go away with him for a year. This here is some ass who kept stalking Bones until I had a little chat with him about his behavior, while this jackass, a deep sea welder, slept with Bones right after we got back from London a few years ago. Of course you know this waste of skin, Hacker, who's lusted after her like forever. I know there are more, but these are the worst offenders. I calm myself by doing a little target practice."
He let the target slide down the range until he figured a good distance, approximately 20 yards, was at hand. Making sure that Clark was paying attention he whipped his gun up and rapid fired five rounds at the target, and then moved the target back to them.
Clark almost had a stroke when he saw the result. The heads, not very large to begin with, were arranged in a four corner pattern with the fifth head, Hacker's, in the center. A neat, single hole was now in between the eyes of each head. Perfect shots rapidly fired.
"Do me a favor, Clark," Booth said, looking at him seriously.
"Yeah?" Clark said, wavering between conscious and unconscious.
"Make sure no one is making eyes at Bones," Booth requested. "I'm putting wandering eyes on the list of serious no nos that will add more heads to my evolving, private target sheet. Can you do that for me? You I trust to keep your eyes where they belong and pass the word. All without Bones knowing, of course."
"You can count on me, Agent Booth!" Clark said in a clear voice. "Uh, I've got a lot of work to get to this afternoon, so I better get back to the lab."
"Sure thing, Clark," Booth told him. "Thanks for helping me out on this one."
Booth chuckled as Clark Addison practically ran out of the range. He knew Clark was a good kid and would never put the moves on Bones, but Booth was an Alpha Male Neanderthal, after all, and the wandering eyes of other men were a major no no. That evening he enjoyed to no end listening to Bones tell him how flustered and out of sorts Clark was in the lab that afternoon. Yep. Mission accomplished!
A/N: I had planned on having this one ready after last weeks episode, Male In The Mail Room, but real life got in the way for a while. I hope you enjoyed this humorous, little OOC look at Booth's reaction to Clark's difficulties with Bones' sensitive breasts. Gregg.
