Disclaimer: I was bored. One-shot, just keeping myself occupied until that stupid 100th episode comes out. :) Here's my take on what leads them to tell Sweets the "truth". Side note: I am the first person to jump up and down, saying B&B should get together - but as much as that HAS to happen by the time she show ends (HH, you had better be listening!!!) organically, I don't see them falling into each other's arms before their time.....oh and I wrote this in about an hour without thinking about it too much, so my apologies if it doesn't make a lot of sense....

Sternberg's Theory

by Caillean

She stared at her partner across the table. His head was down, brow furrowed in concentration. The piles of papers in front of him held his full attention. Had she not been so frustrated he was ignoring her, she might notice a similarity in the way she herself looked at dead bodies. She tried again:

"Booth."

He stabbed at the paper with the tip of a pen, frown on his face deepening, a hint of blush creeping up his neck. She wasn't good at reading people, but she'd learned a thing or two about reading him over the past six years, and that wasn't embarrassment emanating from her partner and friend, it was anger.

"Booth."

No response.

With an exasperated sigh, she reached out and grabbed the pen from him, sitting back quickly before he could react.

"Bones!"

Ah, there, now he was listening.

"Booth, Dr. Sweets isn't going to recant any of his book because we don't like it. You heard what he said when he handed it over to us: professional courtesy."

"There is nothing professional or courteous about this."

"He doesn't even list our names. They've been changed."

Dark eyes met hers. "Those squints of yours can find a murderer from a microscopic bit of tissue or gum on the bottom of a shoe, you think they wouldn't be able to figure out who this book is really about?"

She tilted her head to one side and met his stare. "Of course they would, but you know we don't hold with psychoanalytic thinking, it's not scientific, just conjecture." She grimaced and waved a hand at the manuscript in front of him "same as that is."

"Angela will read it."

Brennan smiled slightly. "No, Angela will ask us what's in it. She has, as you so often say, 'a life' Booth, she won't spend hours pouring through a psychology text."

He slapped an open palm down on the top of the papers. "Fine, but this isn't even accurate, he doesn't even have the details right!" He randomly tossed a few pages aside. "I mean, come on! 'The couple exhibits at least two of the three points of love on Sternberg's triangle theory: Intimacy and Commitment. The lack of Passion in this partnership suggests lack of Consummate Love but the man's addictive personality may substitute'...blah blah blah, what is this crap, Bones?"

She answered him slowly, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. She always did that around him.

"I....think....well, quantifiably, you do have a history of addiction..."

"I do not!"

She began listing points, emphasizing each one with a flick of her fingers. "You are a reformed gambler. Your father was an alcoholic. Your brother has the same problem. Genetically, those traits can pass on..."

"Stop."

"What?"

"You know what drives me crazy about you Temperance? You have to dissect me, analyze me, analyze us. You can't just take a step back and feel, as opposed to think."

She slid back in her chair. "I.... I do feel, Booth, you know that. I just believe it's not logical to ignore any fact, any aspect of a person. You have a problem with addiction. I have a problem with trust. Well, except with you, perhaps. There is no such thing as an ideal person, no such thing as perfection. It's statistically impossible. We are completely within the social norm for our imperfections."

"So, that makes us perfectly imperfect?"

Her nostrils flared. "That statement completely contradicts itself and makes no sense."

He sat back, that was the Bones he knew and loved. Nothing got by her. "He has something right, at least."

"What do you mean?"

He leaned across the desk, his voice pitched so that only she could hear. "I do care about you. I am committed to you. I'd give my life for you, I trust you with my life." He said it without thinking, three words melting away into silence: "I love you."

Her eyes grew wide, staring at him with an intensity that tightened his chest.

"Atta girl?" There was a softness to her voice, a quietness that he recognized as uncertainty. Maybe this wasn't the time, wasn't the place, perhaps that conversation would have to come later, when the time was right. If the time was ever right. The tension left his body at that moment as he smiled.

"Yeah, Bones, 'atta-girl'."

A moment as they locked gazes, both filled with questions neither one of them was prepared to ask. Not yet, but soon.

Booth looked back down at the manuscript. Damn you, Sweets. Damn you and your need to make us say things that don't need to be said. Non-verbal communication, you're so big on that. The only non-verbal communication you need is a good ass-whooping....

"You know, Bones. I think it's time we paid a visit to the Good Doctor."

"I don't know if you can call him 'good', Booth, he's certainly competent enough in his field, but to imply..."

"Bones."

"What?"

"Sarcasm."

She thought about it for a minute. He loved the way he could almost see the wheels turning in her head, the moment when she lit up as she 'got it'. "Ahhhh. I see." A coy look passed across her face. "So you want to talk to Dr. Sweets?"

"I think it's time he at knew the details about our first case together. Maybe that will change his mind about his findings. A successful investigation requires all the details, right?"

"Right, he wouldn't want to release such a large study if it came out that he was wrong about the details. It would affect his standing with his peers."

Booth's smile grew. "....and, we wouldn't be supporting him as friends and colleagues unless we told him exactly what happened and allow him the time to make any necessary changes to his findings, would we?"

"Professional courtesy?"

"Exactly Bones," he stood up and walked around his desk, taking his partner's arm and lifting her out of her chair, propelling them both through the door.

"Professional courtesy."

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FIN