I hope you are enjoying this story. Poor Sweets. Booth isn't the only one with impulse issues.
I don't own Bones.
Ooooooooooooooooooooo
The next day, Sweets drove over to the Hoover in a state of aggitation. After he nearly side-swiped a car coming down the ramp in the parking garage, he slowed down and cautiously mad his way to his assigned parking spot. Once he was there, he took a deep breath, exited his car and hurried into the Hoover Building. As he rode up the elevator he fet his anger starting to bubble to the surface again. He needed to talk to Booth . . . well give him a piece of his mind really. After he had a right to be angry didn't he? Of course he did.
Once he was outside Booth's office, Sweets straightned his tie and barged into the room. "Agent Booth, I want to talk to you about last night."
Not surprised to see the younger man, Booth closed the file on his PC and turned his attention fully on Sweets. "Yeah, well I want to talk to you too. What the hell was the idea of calling me after 1 in the morning. If you can't handle your liquor then don't drink for God's sake. Me and Bones need our sleep and I don't want to put up with any more of your shit."
"Wait . . . wait", Sweets sat down and held up his hands. "I wasn't drunk last night. I called you because you put mice in my apartment yesterday. That is completely unprofessional. Your in law enforcement for Gods sake. You can't just break into my place and dump mice in it. You can get into trouble for that. I mean really . . . a lot of trouble."
Cocking his head to the side, Booth stared at the younger man. "Me? . . . I didn't put any mice in your apartment yesterday. I was here all day. You can ask anyone . . . You want a play by play of my day, well here goes . . . The only time I left the Hoover is when I went to lunch with Bones. She dropped by and we were gone for about an hour and 20 minutes. She then dropped me off back here and I worked until 8 last night. Bones picked me up after she was done at the Lab and we went straight to her apartment. We ate take out and watched a movie at her place until a little after 10. We went to bed . . . I guess I could have snuck out of the apartment after that, but I don't know of any pet shops open after 10 p.m. do you? Besides, I bet you were in your place by then so when would I have been able to put mice in your apartment? Your neighbors probably lost their pets and they wandered into your apartment. Call your landlord, but don't complain to me about it."
Filled with doubt, Sweets stared at Booth and decided that he couldn't negate anything the Agent had just said, at least not yet. He needed collaboration, so he decided to talk to Dr. Brennan and see if she would back up Booth's story. If she didn't then Agent Booth was going to be in a world of trouble as far as he was concerned.
Since Sweets had come to him, Booth decided to talk to Sweets about his professionalism. A look of anger crossing his face, Booth leaned forward on his desk. "By the way, Sweets, if you want to talk about un-professionalism, lets talk about you telling Bones about my little clown talk I had with you a few days ago . . . Didn't I tell you not to tell anyone? Didn't I tell you not to tell Bones? What happened to client patient privilege? If anyone has a right to be angry, it's me. You had no right to talk to her or anyone else. What do you think would happen to you if I filed a complaint? . . . Well?"
Unable to look Booth in the eyes, Sweets glanced at the window instead. "Dude . . . um . . . well, it totally slipped out of my mouth. I didn't really mean to tell Dr. Brennan. It just came out of my mouth before I could stop it." Seeing that Booth was getting angrier the more he talked, Sweets stood up. "I'm sorry Agent Booth. I really am. I didn't do it on purpose . . . Uh, I have to go."
Sweets would have been just a little bit frustrated if he had turned around and saw the smirk on Booth's face as he left the office. As it was, he made plans to go see Dr. Brennan the minute he had some free time. He wanted to make sure that what Booth had said was true. If he didn't put the mice in his apartment, then someone else did. He hated to think he had pissed off someone else in his apartment building and he didn't realize it. God this was not going well. He hoped Dr. Brennan would disprove Booth's alibi and he could raise hell with him again. Booth may be angry with him for spilling the beans about a private conversation, but he was human and humans made mistakes. There was not reason to prey on his fears to get revenge . . . He really hoped Booth had placed the mice in his apartment. I hope my neighbors aren't really raising a lot of mice near me. That just creeps me out. I better call the exterminator today. I can't afford to live in a hotel.
ooooooooooooooooooooooo
Hmm. Booth says he didn't do it. Let me know if this is still interesting. Thanks.
