A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys, as always! Hope you enjoy this one ;)
Please leave your thoughts at the end. It takes about two minutes.
"I want to tell him."
"No, Bones, I get to tell him. You'll probably scare the kid with crazy pregnancy squint-talk."
"I think being straightforward would be the best way to let him know. He'd appreciate directness."
Booth snorts. "You just want to be the one to tell him."
Brennan raises her eyebrows. "So do you."
They give each other long looks, and Booth narrows his eyes in an attempt to glare. But she looks too eager for him to glower for long, and when he looks away, she lets out a triumphant shout that makes him sigh.
"One of these days, I'm going to win in a staring contest, Bones," he says assuredly, shaking his head.
"No, you won't," she answers with a grin. "Because I'm always right, and you have to accept that."
"Accept what?"
The two of them turn quickly to find Sweets standing behind them, his expression bemused. "Is there any reason you're loitering in front of my office?" His expression brightening, he asks, "Is there a case?"
Grinning, Booth shakes his head. "Nope. No case."
The psychologist's brow furrows and he regards them with a quizzical look. "Then what? You guys would never voluntarily come within a hundred feet of my office."
"We were debating," Brennan explains quickly. "About who gets to tell you that I'm—"
"Sneaky!" Booth exclaims, cutting her off. "No fair!"
"We agreed that I'd be the one to tell him," she protests, crossing her arms. "What's so sneaky about that?"
"I'm not ready!" he answers, hands on his hips as he turns to regard her. "I have to prepare myself."
"For what?" Brennan asks, giving him a deadpan stare. "You already know that I'm—"
"No!" Spinning around, Booth orders, "Sweets, don't listen to her." To Brennan, he adds, "Bones, let's get the kid in his office first, okay? Or else he'll faint in the hallway, and I don't want to have to deal with that."
After a moment, she nods. "All right. But I still get to tell him."
By now, Sweets is giving them both a slightly alarmed look, his eyes wide. "This isn't a surprise, is it? Not a bad one? I'm really not in the mood for surprises, guys."
"You're going to love it, Sweets," Booth assures him, beaming. "But just sit down, because I don't want to have to catch you."
They propel him into his office and Booth shoves him down into his customary armchair as Bones settles herself on their couch. Grinning widely, Booth sits down next to her, and Sweets glances between the two of them tensely.
"Do you guys need therapy or something?" he asks tentatively after a moment.
At his hesitant glances, Booth laughs. "Sweets, we're not armed robbers, so stop looking like you're about to be shot. Bones and I just have something to tell you."
"I want to say it," Brennan whispers loudly.
"Bones wants to say it," Booth agrees. "But that's not fair because she got to tell Angela."
She frowns. "You didn't say you wanted to tell Angela."
"Well, she was your friend, so it made sense for you to tell her," he answers. "But Sweets is mine."
"He's my friend too," Brennan argues logically. "You attended the same therapy sessions as I did. You can't be better friends with him than I am."
"We don't count level of friendship by therapy sessions, eh, Sweets?" Booth asks, grinning at the psychologist. "So whose friend are you, Bones' or mine?"
Sweets shoots them both wary looks and says, "I don't think I want to get involved in this…"
"Of course you have to get involved," Booth replies, smiling enigmatically. "Here's the deal: Bones is probably going to say it straight out, and you'll probably have a heart attack. But I'll ease you into the news. So which would you rather have?"
"I'd rather not die," Sweets answers weakly. "What is this about?"
"He chose me, Bones," Booth says smugly, nudging her with his knee.
"That was an unfair representation of my communication skills," Brennan protests. "It is highly unlikely that I would induce a heart attack simply by speaking, especially since the news is happy."
"Oh, that's good," Sweets mutters, slumping down in his seat.
"I still get to tell him," Booth insists, ignoring the psychologist. "I get the short end of the stick overall."
"How is that?" Brennan challenges, raising an eyebrow.
"Everyone's going to be happy when you tell them," he explains. "But I have to deal with your dad and your brother, who'll probably threaten my life a couple of times. So I get to tell Sweets."
"You have the short end of the stick?" Brennan repeats skeptically. "I don't see you throwing up and carrying a—"
Hurriedly, Booth reaches up to clap a hand over her mouth. "Bones! You practically gave it away!"
Sweets stares at them blankly, and Booth isn't sure if the kid's just dense or processing the information. In any case, he decides to take advantage of the moment—and the fact that Bones can't talk through his fingers—to say, "You hear that, Sweets? I'm going to be a father again! Bones is pregnant!"
Glaring at him, Brennan pries his fingers away from her mouth and demands, "How was that any different from my direct approach? I thought you were going to ease him into the news. I would have said the same thing!"
"I had to get it out before you said anything," Booth answers smugly, patting her knee. "Desperate times call for desperate measures, Bones."
"That's not fair," she grumbles in return. "You forcibly subdued me, and—"
"W—what?" Sweets splutters suddenly, shaking his head and shifting forward in his chair. "Wait, what?"
"He grabbed me," Brennan answers, giving him a puzzled look. "Didn't you see it?"
Shaking his head furiously, the psychologist holds up a hand. "No, no, no, not that. What Booth said—is it true? Are you…?"
"Pregnant?" she finishes. "Yes, I am."
"And yes," Booth adds, noting Sweets' open-mouthed shock, "it's my kid."
The psychologist slumps back into his chair, his expression dazed, and Brennan says, "You were right, Booth. We would have had to catch him if we'd told him while he was standing."
"I'm always right," he quotes back to her, grinning cockily. At Sweets, he says, "You okay, buddy? I know I kind of sprung that on you. Sorry about that."
"No, no," the psychologist answers feebly. "It's just…she's pregnant? You guys…together…in a bed? For real?"
"That's generally how it works, Sweets, though I'd understand if you were too young to understand the birds and the bees thing," Booth says, smiling brightly. "So what do you have to say? I know you didn't see this one coming."
He's just silent, sitting frozen in his armchair across from them, his gaze riveted on Brennan's stomach.
"I think we've traumatized the kid," Booth stage-whispers, grinning.
"I don't know how," she answers, shaking her head. "There wasn't anything particularly traumatizing about the news."
"I did kind of say it quickly," Booth admits apologetically. "Maybe I should've led with 'how do you feel about kids, Sweets?' That was the plan before you sabotaged it."
"Sabotaged it!" Brennan exclaims. "I just wanted to tell him myself. You were just being selfish."
"You told Angela," he reminds her. "And then you wanted to tell Sweets too. Who's being selfish?"
With a huff, she crosses her arms and looks away. Then her face lights up, and she swivels back to stare at him, the glint in her eye scarily devious. "All right. If you want to tell everyone, you can. But then you'll be the one telling my father," she announces triumphantly.
Oh, bringing out the big guns, is she? Booth stares at her for a second before narrowing his eyes. "Mean! Just a week pregnant, Bones, and you're already evil!"
"I'm right," she corrects smugly. "Would you like to tell the others, then?"
"No," he grumbles, shaking his head. "You tell them, you sneaky blackmailer. You haven't changed at all since I first met you."
"Except now I'm pregnant," she points out.
"Except now you're pregnant," he agrees, smiling happily.
"Hah!"
Both of them turn back to find Sweets splitting into a smile, then breaking out into laughter. Not incredulous laughter or congratulatory laughter, but strangely gleeful laughter. Gleeful in a way that makes Booth frown.
"We've knocked the kid off his rocker, Bones," he says, raising an eyebrow.
"I think the saying fits," she agrees, eyeing the psychologist's wild look.
"I'm not—not crazy," Sweets gasps, wiping tears away from his eyes. "Anything but that. I'm just—ha!—just laughing because—because you think you're pulling a fast one on me, but…"
"But?" Booth prompts, a sudden pit of apprehension in his gut. Somehow, in the last three seconds, something has changed, and he doesn't think it'll bode well for them. Sweets laughing maniacally doesn't seem like a good sign.
"But—you've just—ha!—shot yourselves in the foot!" Sweets crows.
"Is he hallucinating?" Brennan whispers anxiously. "Neither of us have a gun, and neither of us are injured."
"It's a saying, Bones," Booth replies slowly. "But I don't get it either. How'd we do that, Sweets?"
The psychologist chuckles with himself for another long moment before pulling himself together. Leaning forward in his chair, a wide smile still splitting his face, he explains, "You guys. Do you really expect that your dynamic won't change with this new addition? Do you think everything's going to go along just fine, just like it's always been? No, it's not. Everything's changed, your careers, your lives, your relationship together. And do you know what a huge change like this warrants?"
At their blank stares, Sweets answers gleefully, "Therapy. You two. Six weeks minimum. I'm recommending it starting tomorrow. I expect to see you two in my office at six-thirty in the afternoon, sharp."
Now it's their turn to stare wide-eyed at him, mirroring expressions of horror written across their faces. Booth groans and flops back against the back of the couch as Brennan sits ramrod-straight in place, her eyes wide. Sweets eyes them both and sits back with a smug smile.
"You can't do this," Brennan protests finally. "You don't have the authority."
"Of course I do," Sweets answers, grinning. "You know the FBI won't like this. I'll be instrumental in allowing you two to continue working together. So you want to get on my bad side right away, or you want to try to make this work?"
After a long moment of silence, Booth exchanges a glance with Brennan, and with an abrupt, decisive nod, they stand together.
The psychologist frowns. "Where are you two going?"
"Away," Booth retorts. "You're right, Sweets, no surprises. We're never telling you anything ever again."
"No, we aren't," Brennan agrees vehemently. "I'm glad I wasn't the one to tell you."
Booth snorts. "Hey! You wanted to tell him in the first place."
She levels a dry look at him. "And you fought me for it, and now look what's happened."
"We should have just never told him," Booth groans, shaking his head as he yanks open the door to the office. Turning back, he adds, "And we're not showing up tomorrow."
"It's your partnership!" Sweets returns, smiling widely.
Glaring, Brennan remarks, "Although I am not usually given to strong feelings, I strongly dislike him right now, Booth."
Sending Sweets a similar glower, Booth tucks a hand around Brennan's waist and says, "Nobody blames you, Bones. Nobody blames you." And he shuts the door sharply.
