Disclaimer: Bones and its characters belong to their rightful owners.
Authors Note: Three down, three to go. I think I might have made MV a bit too old for directly after season 8, but just bear with me. Pretend it's in the future then.
Who should be the next fretful mother duckling?
"Are y'all ready to order now?"
Hodgins glanced diagonally across the table at his wife and raised his eyebrows. "Are you ready, Ange?"
Angela lowered the menu and smiled at the waitress with vibrant ginger locks piled upon her head. "I think I'll just have my usual, Bess."
Bess smiled, not even bothering to write down the order. She had long since memorized the favorite orders of the little crime fighting club that often came to her restaurant. "Sure thing, dear. And what will the mini Jack have?"
Angela glanced sidelong at her young son beside her. He had graduated from the highchair only a few months prior and was quite excited about only needing a large booster seat. "Do you want mac and cheese, Michael?" The boy nodded automatically. He was already distracted by a colorful biker chaining her mode of transportation to a nearby bike stand.
Angela turned back to Bess and smiled again. "He'll have the kid's macaroni with a side of broccoli."
After Bess had taken the older Hodgins' order, she turned to the last member of the party. "And you, Sweetheart?" Like many others, she often referred to the young doctor with an unoriginal pet name that was very close to his own surname.
The young psychologist smiled weakly. "Just a burger and fries, thanks."
Bess nodded and disappeared to the kitchen to place their orders. The moment the red-haired woman left, the three adults returned to business while Michael was captivated by the passing traffic outside his window.
"So, I have to ask again, what's the problem? What's going on?" The profiler looked from Hodgins to Angela with an elevated inky eyebrow.
"What do you mean 'what's going on?'"
"Yeah, can't we just enjoy lunch with our favorite little shrink?" Hodgins chuckled, as if even he was having trouble believing what he was saying.
Sweets wasn't buying any of it. "No. There's always a reason. Even if it's subconscious." The doctor's chocolaty eyes landed on the oblivious Michael Vincent. "Is it a problem with him? Because Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth have exhausted the free child psychology appointments. And the free babysitting." Sweets leaned back with his splayed palms in front of his chest. "If you think something's wrong with Michael, then go see someone who's licensed to deal with children."
"Dude, you are a child. How can dealing with them be any different?" Hodgins snickered until a sharp kick under the table from his wife cut him off.
Sweets gave the entomologist a blank look. "So not helping your case if you want something from me." He turned back to the only female at the table. "So what is it?"
Angela tried to look offended that Sweets thought he had only been invited to lunch so the couple could pick his brain. "Like we said before, Sweets, there isn't anything that's wrong."
Sweets settled back into his seat with a distrustful stare. "Oh…kay…"
"Besides, we just wanted to ask how you're getting along with your new roommates."
"Booth said they were pretty hot," Hodgins grinned recklessly, again forgetting his wife was right across from his. His smirk faded after another prompt kick.
Sweets returned the grin with a lopsided smile of his own. "Yeah, on the first night, their moving in gift wa—" The young psychologist broke off suddenly, much to the chagrin of the man beside him, and glanced nervously at the still distracted Michael Vincent. "Uh, well, I'm not sure if I should go on…"
"Dude, come on! He won't know what you're talking about. He's only three"
Angela interrupted her husband with a glare. "Actually, he's four."
"Oh…" Sweets snickered slightly at the ginger's apparent discomfort.
"Besides, we're all adults—I think we know how the story is going to end."
"Well, some of us are adults," Hodgins glanced pointedly to the side. Now it was his turn to snigger.
"Seriously? Another joke?"
Angela rolled her eyes. "Stop fighting, you two. Both of you are acting like children."
"What are you going to do about it?" Hodgins grinned with a single eyebrow cocked suggestively.
"I'll just have to put you over my knee."
Oh God… Make it stop. Unable to contain himself, the young psychologist giggled nervously at the obvious implication. Although he had just been prepared to dish out the nasty details of his own personal life, hearing the playful flirts from the older couple just made him feel…awkward. And what about Michael Vincent?
Bess could not have come at a better time. Sweets thanked her a bit too overzealously as she handed out the still hot plates with the unnecessary "Careful, Sweetheart, those are hot."
As the smell of cheese product floated through the air, Michael Vincent quickly tore his wide gaze from the window and fixed it on his steaming plate. The boy's lips curled into a grimace of utter despair at the sight of green next to his cheddar orange elbows.
Seeing as the minds of children were incredibly more complex due to their youthful innocence, Sweets watched, fascinated, to see what the young couple would do. Angela, who had clearly gone through this before, forced a winning smile on her face.
"Honey, if you want to grow up to be big and strong, you have to eat your vegetables. Someday you could be as strong as Uncle Booth at the FBI."
The toddler did not look convinced. After all, Uncle Sweets worked at the FBI as well and he wasn't as strong as Uncle Booth.
"Hey, just think of them like little trees," Hodgins grinned at his son. "And you're a big giant who likes to eat forests."
Little trees that taste like death. Sweets suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. As a child and even in his adult years, broccoli ranked low on his favorite vegetables list. It ranked low on pretty much all of his lists.
"I don't want brocy," the young child insisted with a large frown.
Angela's smile looked a bit strained. "All growing boys have to eat their vegetables," she repeated.
The child's dark eyes landed on Sweets and his golden french fries for a moment and the psychologist suddenly got a really bad feeling.
"Why doesn't Uncle Sweets have to eat brocy?"
Damn. Sweets had forgotten how vindictive and crafty and heartless little children were. The almost smug smirk promptly dropped off of the shrink's face.
The seemingly innocent comment caused the entomologist to snort loudly. He smacked his lips to muffle the loud sound, but his shoulders still shook slightly.
Angela regarded the young psychologist with a dangerous glint in her eye. Sweets was starting to regret coming to lunch with the Hodgins-Montenegro family. "You're right, Michael. Sweets should be eating vegetables as well, since he's a growing boy just like you." Angela tapped the boy's nose on the last word, causing the child to giggle.
"I'm not growing! I'm twent—"
"If Uncle Sweets eats brocy, will you eat your brocy too?" Hodgins was having a hard time wiping the grin from his face.
Michael Vincent nodded solemnly.
"I'm not eating brocy—I mean, broccoli!" Sweets insisted loudly.
Angela swapped a mischievous look with her partner. The dark-haired female waved her hand to flag down Bess.
"Sorry to bother you, Bess, but we were wondering—"
"You gave Sweets fries instead of broccoli," Hodgins finished before the psychologist could interrupt.
Bess's orange eyebrows furled in confusion. "Huh," she murmured. "Sorry about that. I coulda swore you wanted fries" She grabbed the plate of sizzling, golden potato strips and whisked them away from the young psychologist's desperate, grabby hands.
"But I di—"
Sweets was too late. The waitress had already bounced back towards the kitchen, calling "one side of broccoli coming right up" over her shoulder.
"I don't want broccoli," Sweets muttered darkly as he crossed his arms and moodily slouched in his chair.
"Cheer up, Sweets, it's just broccoli."
Hodgins' amused eyebrow had not dropped the entire conversation. Clearly the ginger was enjoying himself. "Yeah, you and Michael can be Brocy Buddies."
The young man scowled as Bess reappeared with a fresh, steaming bowl of emerald broccoli. She dropped the bowl in front of the shrink and the tiny florets trembled at the impact.
"Sorry 'bout the mix up. Hope you enjoy!" As the waitress left, Sweets silently cursed the back of the joyful woman's head, although he knew she had no part in the couple's sick game.
Sweets glanced down at the green vegetable and his frown deepened. There's not even any butter. His spirit was currently spiraling into such a pit of despair that he feared he would never find it again.
He looked back up to see Michael Vincent watching him with a satisfied smirk. If the child had to eat his veggies, he was at least going to take someone down with him. Today that unlucky fellow was Sweets.
"Go on, Sweets. Show Michael how big boys eat their brocy."
Sweets shot the two adults dark looks with a flick of his eyes and savagely stabbed the least offensive looking floret of broccoli with his fork. Taking a weak breath through his nose, he bit the metaphorical bullet and plunged the vegetable in his mouth. His tongue crammed itself as far as it could to the back of his mouth to avoid touching the foul morsel, but a soft brush of the dark, leafy top of the floret caught the center of his tongue. Sweets suppressed the urge to gag as he swallowed the piece of broccoli whole.
The psychologist really hated broccoli.
He hated the dual nature of crunchy and springy.
He hated the flavorless initial taste and the rotten aftertaste.
He hated the way that those stupid little leafy things always got caught in his teeth.
He even hated the color of broccoli. Food shouldn't be green. Grass and recycling containers were green.
However, the young man somehow managed to get the disgusting bite down and he quickly downed his glass of water to wash the revolting taste from his mouth. All but slamming the plastic cup on the table, he shot a triumphant glare towards the toddler. Your turn, the challenge seemed to say.
Michael Vincent smiled widely at the shrink, shrugged, and immediately began to devour his much-smaller-than-Sweets' portion of broccoli. As the number of florets rapidly decreased, Sweets' proud smile gradually faded until he was frowning at the child's empty plate.
"Aren't you going to finish your broccoli? If Michael did, surely you can."
"Yeah," Hodgins chuckled. "Don't you want to grow up to be big and strong like Uncle Booth too?"
The young psychologist did not grace the couple with a response. Instead he stabbed one of the broccoli florets, pretending the flower-y morsel was the head of a certain entomologist.
Sweets really hated broccoli.
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