A/N: Hey there. Welcome to a brand new one shot. This idea sorta came from Goldy. So, here you go.
Title: Babysitter 911
Summary: Booth needs Brennan to babysit Parker. Yes, I know this idea has been over done, but hey, not with the Wolfy Twist, right??
Rating: K
Disclaimer: I own 'BONES' and everything to do with it. :pounding on the door: It's all mine, ya hear!? I own them. :pounding on door then door swings up: You can't take them away. I love them. I'll take good care of them. :people in long white coats grab me and try to drag me off: Nooooo, you don't understand...:door closes:
Ahem, this is Branwyn, I'm truely sorry that you had to see that. Wolfy has been going through some things. Anyhow, what she meant to say is that she doesn't own 'BONES' except in her own little mind. The plotline is (C) WolfMyjic 2007.
Wolfy's Warning: This fiction has NOT been beta'ed. Sorry 'bout that.
Because the most manipulative person in the world, is a six year old who has a naïve adult in their clutches.
-WolfMyjic-
Doctor Temperance Brennan sat on her couch, back resting on the arm and her feet pulled up. She had her laptop balanced on her thighs; a pencil gripped in her teeth, and a notebook was stuck between her and the cousin. It was a rainy Sunday afternoon--her first off in over a month, and she planned to make the most of it. Brennan's fingers flew across the keyboard, tapping out the newest scene in her latest manuscript. Her lips moved around the pencil as she talked out a difficult paragraph. "He looked over at me," she mumbled. "His eyes were soft, but stern and I knew that what he was about to say was the final say." Brennan stopped for a moment, reread the sentence, nodded and then moved on. Brennan jumped slightly when a pounding on her door broke the silence. She drew her eyebrows together, and glared at the door. A knock came to the door again, and Brennan growled. She lifted the computer, swung her feet to the floor, placed the computer on the coffee table and then made her way across the living room. Again a pounding came. "Coming," she called out. Brennan quickly checked the peephole, unlocked the door and opened it. "Booth?"
"Hey, Bones," he said looking somewhat nervous. "Listen, umm, I hate to bother you on your day off."
"Since when?" she asked with a smile, crossing her arms playfully over her chest.
"Since I have a really big favor to ask you." Brennan narrowed her eyes.
"What favor?"
"Surprise," a little voice said. Parker jumped out from behind his father.
"Parker," Brennan said, a little startled.
"Hey, Doctor Brennan."
"Well, hello Parker," Brennan said, and then looked back to Booth. "The favor?" The agent smiled and nodded. "Come in."
"Thanks." Booth placed a hand on the back of Parker's head and the duo walked in. Brennan turned to look at the Booth men. The father was standing looking somewhat nervous, one hand stuffed into the front of his jeans, the other on Parker's shoulder. The son was standing smiling up at Brennan, a book bag on his back and his thumbs stuck between his chest and the straps. "I really hate to ask you, but I need someone to watch Parker."
Brennan's eyes darted to the boy before coming back to Booth's. "I don't think that's a good idea."
"I know that, Bones," Booth said. "But it's my weekend, and Rebecca is out of town. I've got to go into work for a few hours, and I don't have anyone else to watch him."
"Booth," Brennan started again.
"Please, Bones. It's just for a couple of hours. He's got his DVD viewer and books and games, he'll be no trouble. Promise." Brennan looked back down at Parker who was still smiling up at her.
"I'm not good with children," she argued, looking back at Booth.
"You'll do fine."
"What if he gets hurt?"
"You're a doctor."
"Of bones," she pointed out.
"You'll do fine. It's not like you have to change diapers or anything. Just make sure he doesn't kill himself."
She gave a sigh but nodded. "Alright," she finally conceded.
"Thank you." Booth flashed a huge smile and then knelt down, his hands on Parker's shoulders, turning the boy to face him. "Now, Parker, I want you to listen to Doctor Brennan, understand?"
"Yes, sir," Parker said.
"And you do what she tells you to, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"And no back talk. If Doctor Brennan gives me a bad report, no TV or desert tonight. Right?"
"Yes, sir," Parker said, this time nodding his understanding as well.
"Good." Booth gave his son a kiss on the top of the head. "Be a good boy." The agent stood, and turned back to Brennan.
"I owe you big," he said and then hurried from the apartment.
"Don't forget that," she called after him.
After the door closed, Brennan looked back to Parker. Anthropologist and child stood there, staring at each other. Parker rocked back on his heels--just like Brennan had seen his father do, his smile growing. "Got anything to eat?"
"Eat?" Brennan repeated, and the boy nodded eagerly. "Um, well, I guess I should have something. Why don't you put your book bag down and come into the kitchen." Parker slid the straps from his shoulders and dropped the bag to the floor. "I meant out of the walkway."
Parker looked down at the bag and then back up to Brennan. "My daddy lets me put it there." The scientist debated on what to say, but decided that if Booth let him, then so would she. Parker followed Brennan into the kitchen and climbed into a chair at the dinette table. "Got any cereal?" the boy asked, his arms crossed on the table, his feet swinging.
"Um, no," Brennan answered, opening up one of her cabinets.
"Jelly?"
"Nope."
Parker gave a sigh. "Then what do you have?"
"Would you like an apple?" Brennan asked turning to look at Parker, who shook his head no.
"Got peanut butter?"
"Peanut butter, yeah, I have that." She went to a second cabinet, opened it and pulled out a jar. "But I don't have jelly, remember?"
"Sugar?"
"Sugar?"
Parker nodded, his blond hair flipping around. "Peanut butter and sugar sandwich," he informed the doctor.
"That's not very healthy," Brennan said.
"Daddy lets me," he explained with a shrug. Brennan thought for a moment and then placed the peanut butter on the table. She gathered up a plate, a knife, bread and sugar. "I can do it," Parker said, getting to onto his knees and reaching for the jar.
"Parker, I think maybe I should…"
"I can do it," Parker stated again. Brennan sat down opposite of the child, and nervously watched as he made himself a sandwich. By the time he took his first bite, there was peanut butter all over the table, the jar and his fingers. Sugar was spread over the table, floor and child as well. The doctor sighed as she watched the boy. He talked between his bites, telling Brennan about what he and Booth had been doing. When he was done, he looked at her with a peanut butter smile.
"Why don't you go wash your hands," Brennan said. "I'll clean up."
"Okay." The boy hopped down out the chair and walked from the kitchen. Brennan looked at the mess and was about to stand when Parker came back in. "Doctor Brennan, where's the bathroom?" She quickly showed him to the correct room, and then returned to clean up his mess.
Once she was done, she found Parker in the living, sitting on the floor pulling things out of his book bag. "Can I watch a movie?" he asked.
"I think that's a great idea," Brennan answered. She took a seat on the couch, watched Parker expertly operate the portable DVD viewer, and then lay down on the floor to watch Snow Dogs. Brennan smiled, picked up her computer, and sat back--glad to be able to get back to her writing. It wasn't until the noise of the movie stopped, that she noticed that Parker wasn't on the floor. "Parker?" Brennan sat the laptop back on the coffee table and stood. "Parker?" She checked the kitchen, and then continued down the hall. Stopping at the bathroom door, she found Parker up on the sink--one knee on either side, his shirt soaked and lipstick pictures on the mirror. "Parker," she snapped, causing the boy to drop his drawing tool, and slip to the floor. Brennan's heart stopped when the crying started. She stood frozen, watching Parker push himself into a sitting position. His face was already red and tears streaked down it. Both hands covered his right eye. Finally Brennan forced herself to move and went to him, kneeling down on the floor. "Let me see," she told him reaching for his hands.
"No," he cried out, ducking away from her touch.
"Parker, I need to make sure you're not bleeding."
"No," he yelled again, this time using his feet to push himself away from her.
"I'm a doctor," she told the child, hoping to calm his fear and control his tears.
"Of bones," he threw back at her. Brennan took a deep breath to calm her own nerves.
"Parker Booth, you come here right this minute," she tried, hoping her voice sounded stern. Parker shook his head vigorously, keeping his hands over his eye. Brennan sat back on her heels, hands resting atop her thighs. Now what? she asked herself. "Would you like something to drink?" The child looked up at her through his left eyelash trying to figure out what the catch was. When Brennan didn't say anything else, he nodded. "Good. Why don't you sit right here, and I'll be right back." She stood, gave one more look to Parker and then left the room. "I hope you don't mind milk," she started a few minutes later as she came back. "Parker?" A quick glance around confirmed that the bathroom was empty. "Parker." Brennan backed out and scanned the hallway. Empty as well. She stepped back into the bathroom, sat the glass of milk on the sink and then went in search of the small boy. "Parker," she called out and waited for a response. "Parker, don't make me tell your daddy." She helped the threat would make him come running, but it didn't. Brennan stopped in front of the hall closet, opened the door and peered in. Nothing. With a sigh, she closed the door and continued on. She came to the spear bedroom, which she used as a collect-all room, and walked in. A search of the closet, under the desk, and behind boxes came up empty. "Parker, this isn't funny." Brennan stepped back into the hallway and headed for her room. Inside, she found Parker sitting in the middle of her bed with a book in his lap. When he looked up, she could see the start of a bruise over his right eyebrow. "Parker, what are you doing?" she asked, suddenly worried about what he was looking at.
"Who's that?" he asked, pointing to one of the pages. Brennan crossed over to the bed and sat down beside him.
The book was a photo album and the picture was, "That's my brother Russ."
"And who's that?" Brennan's eyes followed the small hand to a new picture.
"That's my father," she informed him. "And that one," she pointed to another picture, "is my mother." Parker studied the photos for several moments before flipping the page.
"And that one?"
"That's Russ again. Only he's all grown up in that one." Parker nodded, and then flipped a few more pages.
"Daddy," he said excitedly, his finger going to a picture of her and Booth. "And you."
"That's right. Somebody snapped it last year when we were all out to dinner."
"Who are they?"
Brennan smiled at the picture that had caught his attention. It was one of the Jeffersonian Halloween party. "Well," she started, pointing at a funny looking spider. "That's Doctor Zack Addy. He's the one that made your robot, remember?" Parker nodded. "And that one," she pointed to a man with powdered white hair, spiked up and a long lab coat. "That's Doctor Jack Hodgins. He was a mad scientist." That made Parker laugh. Next she pointed to the two women in black. One dressed in a black leather skirt, with a tight black shirt and the other dress similar, except she had on a much shorter skirt and her black hair pulled up in two pigtails. "That's Angela Montenegro and myself."
"Cool," the boy said.
"And that one," Brennan pointed to the last member of the group--a knight with a sword at his hip.
"Daddy," Parker squealed with recognition.
"That's right." The boy stared at the picture for a moment longer before turning the page, and then closing the book.
"You and Daddy solve cases," he stated as Brennan took the album from him.
"Yes, we do," she said, taking the opportunity to grasp his chin and examine the purple spot on his forehead.
"I'm gonna do that when I grow up," Parker said.
"You are?" The boy nodded when Brennan let go of his chin.
"Yup. I've got to go to the bathroom," he announced, scooting off the bed.
"Alright," Brennan called after him. "Then come right back to the living room." She sighed when she heard the bathroom door slam shut. "You owe me big time, Booth," she said, and the got up and left the room.
Brennan was sitting on the couch when Parker returned. "Why don't you watch another movie?" she suggested.
"Naw." Instead, he moved to one of her bookshelves and began to look over the contents. "What's that?" he asked pointing to a long stick.
"That's a didgeridoo."
"A did'cha what do what?"
Brennan couldn't hold but the smile. "No, that's what it's called. A didgeridoo."
"What is it?"
"It's a musical instrument from Australia."
"What's Australia?"
"It's a country. It's where kangaroos live."
"I saw one of those at the zoo," he said. "What's that one?" This time he pointed to a large circle of gray, with a design of raised ridges on it.
"That's a shield from Ethiopia."
"E-thi-o-pi-a?" he repeated slowly. "Where's that?"
"Africa."
"Is that another country?"
"Yes." Parker turned his attention back to the shield and then stepped over to the next shelf. Brennan watched him for a moment, before hearing her cellphone ring. "I'll be right back," she said, and then hurried toward her bedroom, where she had left her phone. "Brennan," she said into it.
"Hey, Bren," Angela answered. "You busy?"
"Actually, I am," Brennan said, sitting down on the bed.
"Are you really? And working doesn't count. It's Sunday."
"I'm babysitting." Silence. "Angela?"
"Did I hear you right?" the artist asked. "Did you say you were babysitting?"
"Booth had something come up, so I have Parker for a few hours."
"And, you're okay with this?"
"Not really, but now at least he owes me." Brennan's head snapped up when she heard something from the living room crash. "I'll call you later," she quickly said and snapped her phone shut. "Parker?" she called out, as she ran to where she had left the boy. He stood staring down at the shattered remains of a vase, his hands clasped behind his back, his bottom lip stuck out and trembling.
"I'm sorry," he cried, when he looked up at her.
"Parker," she said within a sigh.
"I didn't mean to," sniffle, "break it. I wanted to see the did'cha-a-doo." Tears rolled down his face and when he opened his mouth again, a loud sob escaped.
"Parker, why didn't you just ask to see the didgeridoo?"
"'Cause you where on the phone."
"You could have waited." The boy's bottom lips stuck out even further and he suddenly bolted from the room. "Parker." Brennan stood there a moment, eyes closed, shoulder slumped. "If there's a God," she said softly. "Give me strength." She then cringed at what she had just said and then turned to go look for Parker. She checked her bedroom first, then the bathroom and then closet. She was just about to walk into the spare room, when her cellphone chirped. Brennan gave a frustrated growl and then went to find her phone. "Brennan."
"Hey Bones," Booth said from the other side.
"Booth." Her heart skipped. Please don't ask to talk to Parker.
"How's everything going?"
"Oh, pretty good," she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
"Parker behaving himself?"
"Yeah. When are you coming to pick him up?"
"Yeah, um, I'm sorry about that," he said. "I meant to be by now, but they picked a suspect and I have to stay through the interview."
"So…" she questioned.
"So, it'll be about another hour." Brennan looked down at her watch and groan softly. "Is that a problem?"
"No," she quickly said. "No, that's fine. An hour."
"Is Parker around?"
"Around?" she repeated.
"Yeah, I was hoping to talk to him."
"Oh, well, um, he's he the bathroom right now."
"Oh, then I'll just talk to him when I get there. Tell him that I called."
"Okay. See you then." Brennan snapped the phone before Booth could ask more questions. Again, she let out a sigh, and then stood to go look for Parker. "Parker," she called out. "Parker, this isn't funny. That was your daddy on the phone." When she didn't hear anything, she went on to the spare room. "Parker, are you in there?" She was about to turn away, when a small sob caught her attention. "Parker?" Brennan entered the room, and followed the sound around a stack of boxes.
"I didn't mean to break the vase," he cried.
"Oh, Parker, I know," she said, kneeling down beside him. "It's not important. Don't cry." This only made him cry harder.
"You're gonna tell Daddy," he told her around a hiccup.
"No," she corrected. "No, I won't tell him. Just stop crying."
"You won't?"
"I won't."
"Promise?"
"Promise." With that, Parker jumped up, his tears suddenly dry and dashed from the room. Brennan sat there, thinking that she had just been tricked. I'm never ever babysitting again, she told herself, then stood to go find Parker yet again.
"Parker?"
"In here," the boy answered, and Brennan found him in the kitchen. A carton of milk in his hands, a glass sitting on the floor and a puddle of milk surrounding them both. "I was thristy," he said, smiling up at her.
"I see that. Go sit at the table while I clean this up." Parker put the carton down, picked up his glass and walked toward the table--spilling milk over the sides and down his fingers. Brennan pinched her lips together then sat about cleaning up another mess. Parker put the glass on the table, climbed up into the chair, and went about draining the milk. When Brennan was done mopping up the spill, she looked over at the child and found him drawing in the milk on the table. "Parker, if you're done, why don't you put the glass in the sink, and go wash your hands."
"Again?" the boy whined.
"Yes, again." He rolled his eyes, but slid out of the chair and did as he was told. When he came back into the living room, he annouced, "I'm hungry."
"Hungry?" Brennan questioned. "You had a sandwich two hours ago and you just had a glass of milk."
"But my tummy is growling. That means I'm hungry." Brennan blew out a breath, causing her cheeks to puff out, but stood and made her way back into the kitchen.
"Do you have any ideas as to what you want?"
"Pizza," he stated.
"I don't have pizza."
"You could order one," Parker told her as he climbed back into his claimed chair.
"I thought you were going to eat supper with your daddy?"
"Yeah, but that was before he stayed gone so late," he answered. "We were gonna have pizza tonight. We could order one and the save him a piece. Please?" He gave her a small version of Booth's charm smile, and she gave in.
Thirty mintues later, they were sitting on the living room floor, pizza and milk on the coffee table. Along with ice cream and Brennan's last piece of chocolate cake that Angela had brought over a few nights before. "Are you sure your daddy lets you eat ice cream and pizza?" she asked.
"Yup," the boy answered and then took a bite of pizza. Brennan watched him for a moment, then reached out for her own slice. After her second, she simply watched as Parker ate two more pieces, most of the ice cream and all the cake. Finally he leaned back, hands on his stomach. "My tummy doesn't feel so good," he said. He gave a dry heave and Brennan jumped up, grabbing him by the hand. They were just about to the toliet when Parker threw up--sending chucks of pizza and cake al over Brennan's bare feet. She got him over the toliet for round two, then wiped his mouth and sent him to lay on the couch while she cleaned up. "My tummy hurts," he said, as soon as he saw her.
"Well, with everything that you ate, no wonder," Brennan told him, as she picked up the rest of their food.
"I want some crackers," he whined, turning to his side and pulling his knees to his chest.
"No, no more food."
"But daddy always gives me crackers." Brennan was about to comment when a knock came at her door. Hoping that it was Booth, she hurried to it and threw it open.
"Everything okay?" the father in questioned asked when he saw Brennan's drawn face.
"Yeah," she said. "Everything's okay." She montioned for him to enter and when he did Parker sat up.
"Daddy, my tummy hurts," the boy said, holding out his arms for Booth to pick him up.
"It does?" Booth asked, his voice dripping with sympothy.
"Un-huh, and I threw up."
"He threw up?" Booth asked, looking over to Brennan, who nodded. "What has he had to eat?"
"Well, right after you left he had a peanut butter and sugar sandwich."
"Is that all?"
"We had pizza," Parker piped in. "And ice cream and chocolate cake."
"You had all of that?" The boy nodded his head. "Don't you think that was a bit much, Bones?"
"A bit much?" she questioned. "I only feed him what you normally do."
At this, Booth laughed. "And where did you get the information?" Booth asked, reaching out fro Parkers backpack and then standing.
"Well," Brennan started, her eyes darting to Parker and then back. Booth shook his head, exmined the bruise over his son's right eye brow and then walked passed Brennan to the door.
"Thank you so much for watching him," he said.
"You're welcome," the doctor answered. Booth opened the door, and then turned back to Brennan.
"And Bones?"
"Yeah?"
"Me and you, we need to talk about the rules of babysitting. Rule number one, never trust the six year old." With that, he left, Parker's arms wrapped around his neck, and the child smiling at her over his father's shoulder.
So, Goldy, is that a more accurate description as to how it might go??