Our scene with Sweets starts out a little melancholy, but I really didn't want to take him too far out of context. He has his reasons for wanting to see Brennan happy, and they cut pretty close to his little ducky heart. Don't worry, Adventure Man has a plan! If you see movie references, yes, they're on purpose and will be credited at the end of the chapter.

Chapter Three: Revenge of the Squinterns

Cam grabbed a manilla envelope from the nearest workstation and dumped the papers out, "Two hundred dollars. Each."

The Squinterns blinked then balked as a group, "Two hundred?"

Cam smiled, "This has been going on for years. Whoever gets those two together deserves to win a hell of a lot of money."

Wendall smiled, "I'm in. But I have to wait until I get paid Friday. What are the terms?"

Cam passed around pieces of paper, "If you're game, write an IOU out and put it in the envelope. As for the terms, it has to be easy to see who's won. So we each will get a turn. We'll draw order randomly. We'll have to wait a week or so between turns to gauge the response. You can team up or work individually. But if you team up, you have to split the pot."

Angela and Hodgins came in returning from lunch, "What's going on?"

Mr. Nigel-Murray stepped forward hands in his pockets and leaned down conspiratorially, "Office pool. Agent Booth and Doctor Brennan. Who ever gets them together wins."

Angela and Hodgins smiled at one another, and laughed, "Office pool! We're in!"

Stephanie, Clark's girlfriend, had walked in on Cam explaining her terms. She stood at the bottom of the secure platform, "An office pool? What are you betting on?"

Clark nearly ran down the steps in his haste to leave. Cam smiled at Steph, "We're going to sabotage Booth and Dr. Brennan. Whoever can get them together gets the pool."

Peeling a tugging Clark off her arm, wide-eyed, Steph giggled, "You mean that ship still hasn't sailed yet?"

Cam was stuffing IOUs in the envelope and smiling, "Nope."

Steph pulled Clark into her line of vision, "How much are you in for?"

Clark sputtered, "What? I'm not..."

She smiled at him, "Of course you are." She turned to Cam, "How much to get in?"

Cam raised her eyebrows and replied slowly as she watched Clark squirm, "Two hundred."

Steph dug in her purse, "He's in. Aren't you, Clark?"

Insert dancing pipe wrenches line break here :)

Clark and Fisher trudged through the sewer, their flashlights lancing erratic beams of light into the pitch black. Wading through the waist deep muck in hip boots and elbow length industrial rubber gloves, Clark stopped suddenly and stomped his foot with a splash, "Man I don't even know what I'm doing here. This is crazy, you know that? Crazy!"

"You're down here," Fisher replied evenly, walking nonchalantly past Clark's temper tantrum, "because your law professor girlfriend threatened to put a restraining order on your nookie."

Clark shook his head in disbelief, "I can't believe Dr. Saroyan got her involved."

"She's hot, by the way."

"Who? Dr. Saroyan?"

"Your girlfriend."

"Just drop it, Fisher!" Clark glowered for ten more yards, struggling to breathe without retching in the stench.

Fisher took in a huge lungful of sewer reek, "Smell that?"

Just watching him Clark threw up a little in his mouth, "The sewage?"

Fisher stopped and turned to face him, "That is the smell of money. All the money from the office pool if everything goes according to plan. A grand each buys a lot of Febreeze, my friend," He slapped Clark on the shoulder, "Now com'on. The pipe is right over here."

Clark slogged along behind, "You sure about this? I mean, how do you know it's even going to work?"

"I stayed at a Holiday Inn Express last night," Fisher deadpanned. If Clark could have killed him with a look, this would have been the one, "Relax! My uncle's a plumber." He checked a printed diagram of the pipes surrounding them and tapped the end of his flashlight to the right of a large valve wheel, "Right here."

Clark was losing his nerve. To hell with sex, "What if we get caught? I mean we're flooding the guy's apartment. Booth will..."

"Just. Hit. It."

Clark shook his head, squeezed his eyes shut and using the huge wrench he'd dragged with them slammed into the pipe. Fisher tried the valve wrench. Nothing. Not even a wiggle.

Fisher sighed dramatically, "Don't be such a girl! Over your head! This is quarter inch steel on an arch and the valve is rusty. Swing it like you mean it."

Clark spread his feet and hesitated, "How much is in the pool again?"

"One thousand four hundred dollars."

"And how hot is my girlfriend?"

Fisher just growled suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows.

Clark sighed dramatically, "OK. Here goes," Clark swung the forty pound wrench over his head and brought it down on the pipe like Thor's hammer. A deafening clang and the wrench began to turn. After a few turns the pipe groaned and rumbled ominously. Fisher grabbed Clark by the collar and waddled as fast as he could back down the sewer line.

Who was Clark kidding? He already missed sex. This 'no nookie until Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth got it on like animals on the Discovery Channel' shit was for the birds, "This better work, Fisher."

Fisher just sloshed on ahead, "Now for part B."

Clark struggled to catch up, "You never said anything about a part B!"

Insert dancing hockey stick line break here. :)

Brennan sat at the bar sipping her wine, she didn't really want to be here. Grant had definitely misconstrued why she'd agreed to meet him for a drink tonight. Parker's birthday was coming up and Brennan had a plan. She'd already managed the pair of tickets to the game, she just needed Grant's help to have the little boy meet the team.

Brennan's phone rang as she sat at the bar with Grant. She gave him an apologetic look and picked up, "Brennan."

"Bones? I need help."

She plugged an ear in the noisy bar to hear better, "Booth? What's wrong?"

"I just got home and my apartment is flooded. There's water everywhere! Where are you? I can barely hear you."

"I'm at a bar. Do you have any fans to dry things out? I have one in my guest room closet you can borrow."

"A bar? What are you doing at a bar? Fans won't cut it. We're talking more like hip boots. Wait, are you with Grant?"

"Yes. Booth, what are you going to do?"

"Why are you out with him? I thought you hated hockey. Some of my clothes are dry I guess I'll go get a hotel."

"He's a doctor as well as a hockey player. That makes no sense. You have a key to my apartment and I have a guest room."

"I don't wanna intrude, Bones. I mean, what if you want to bring Grant back to your place?"

Brennan didn't understand why he was so upset. But the implication made her bristle automatically, "I can assure you that won't..."

"I mean you're gonna want your privacy, right? I'll just get a..."

She was brooking no argument, "You'll do nothing of the sort. I'm coming to get you."

Brennan gave Grant an apologetic look after hanging up, "I have to go."

Grant didn't miss much and traced his finger lightly down her arm, "He has a key to your place already. We could just go back to my hotel."

Brennan shook her head, "His apartment is flooded. He's going to need help carrying his things."

He smirked slightly, grabbing her chin and leaning in for a light kiss, "Sure I can't change your mind?"

Brennan pulled away before he landed it, missing his clear frown at the rebuff. Her mind was already across town, "I have to go." She slid off her stool and hustled out without a backward glance.

Insert pair of skeletons doing the tango line break here. :)

Cam knocked on Dr. Brennan's office door, "Good morning." As she entered she saw Booth had files spread all over the coffee table in front of him. Dr. Brennan was hunched behind her computer. They both looked bleary eyed and disheveled. "Everything all right?"

Dr. Brennan looked up from her email, "Booth's apartment flooded last night. We were up most of the night salvaging what we could and taking it to my house."

Cam's brows knit together briefly and she looked nervously out the door and back, "That's terrible, Seeley. What happened? Are you getting everything dried out OK?"

"I don't know. When I got home last night every faucet in the house was going crazy. I couldn't shut them off."

"High water pressure, Booth. I told you. That was the reason only the top floor flooded." Brennan chimed in.

"Well whatever, the clean up guys were there this morning when I went to check. They said it'll be a week or two until it's completely dry and then the landlord said he's gonna have to replace walls and carpet."

Cam's eyebrow shot skyward, "That'll take months. And you're going to stay with Dr. Brennan?"

"Yeah. Bones was nice enough to give me her guest room."

"That was nice of you, Dr. Brennan." Cam smiled back at the scientist, only to find she'd buried herself back in her email. "I bet you could both use some coffee. I'll send one of the interns." And she had a good idea exactly who as she retreated to the catwalk above the platform. They obviously needed to discuss collateral damage. "Fisher!"

Insert chocolate covered magic pills line break here. :)

One Week Later...

Three drinks was Lance Sweets' limit. But Adventure Man knew how to drink. He even ate the pound of butter required for lining his stomach without retching. Now that was a superhero.

It had taken Sweets exactly seven tries to get Booth to meet at the Founding Fathers. Sweets was wearing a heavy Navy pea coat and a black stocking cap pulled over his dark curls. Booth strode in, dripping from the February sleet and plopped across the table from Sweets, a scowl etched into his face. Sweets signaled the waitress with his hand, never looking away from his friend, "Something wrong, Agent Booth?"

"No." The waitress appeared and took his order, scurrying off to get his beer. "Yes." Booth scrubbed his face with his hand, "Look, just never mind."

The waitress placed the beer in front of Booth. He pulled out his wallet, but Sweets waved him away, "I started a tab, don't worry about it." He watched as Booth took a long, healthy pull and then another, "You know, I asked you here because you're my friend, Seeley."

Booth rolled his eyes at the use of his first name, "Whoa, Sweets. Not even Bones calls me Seeley."

"Of course. I'm sorry. Ah... Booth. But I can tell something's bothering you."

Booth's phone rang deep in his coat pocket. He ignored it. No, that wasn't correct. He pointedly ignored it. "Don't you, um, wanna get that, Booth?"

Booth took the final pull from his beer and signaled the waitress for another. "No."

"But what if it's Dr. Brennan? I mean, it could be..."

"It's not."It had been a bad idea to come. Booth didn't need this.

"How do you know that without looking?"

"It's a girl, Sweets. Happy?"

"You have a woman calling you and you're not picking up?" Lance wiped the foam from his top lip.

Sighing Booth knew he wasn't getting out of the third degree, "Look, it wasn't my idea. Angela and Hodgins set us up."

"Us?"

"Me and Bones. They asked us out to dinner and blind-sided us with blind dates, OK?"

Sweets had the good sense to wince, "Ow. Not cool."

"No." He finished his second beer and called for a third, "Not cool."

"So what are you gonna do?"

"I'll tell you one thing I'm not gonna do: I'm not gonna pick up the phone."

"So, uh, what's the matter with her? Is she not very pretty?"

"What do you mean what's the... No! No, she was fine. Just fine."

"But...?" Sweets drew out the question as Booth drained his glass.

"Sweets, I thought I didn't have to answer your stupid questions any more."

Sweets looked hurt, "It's just that I'm not your doctor anymore, so I thought..."

Booth hailed another beer, snapping, "You thought what?"

Sweets studied the bottom of his glass very closely and mumbled, "I thought we could be friends."

Booth let out a guilty sigh, "You know what? You're right, Sweets. You're absolutely right. After I settle one little thing then I would be glad to be friends with you."

"Settle what?"

"I should be at home right now watching movies with Bones and cuddling up on the couch trying to talk her into marrying me. But I'm not. I'm in a bar with you and Bones is out with Grant Shields for the second time this week. You know why that is, little man?"

Sweets was shocked, "Grant Shields? The Grant Shields? Wow."

Booth downed half of another beer. The waitress was wising up and set a pitcher on the table. Booth topped off his glass immediately, "It's because I listened to you! You said I was a gambler. You said break the stalemate. Well, I told her. And we wound up on opposite sides of the planet!"

Sweets topped off his own beer, "What did you tell her, Booth?"

Booth was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol, "I told her I wanted to give us a shot. Just like you said. I told her and she said no." Misery was written all over his face.

"You know what? You're right." Sweets pushed the glasses and the pitcher out from between them, pointing to his chin and wincing a bit, "I've never been in a bar fight, but I know I deserve this one. I blew it. Hit me. I deserve it."

That definitely got Booth's attention, "What? No. I don't hit kids."

Sweets was standing and getting louder, "She's worth it, Booth. Dr. Brennan is so worth it. I wouldn't blame you a bit. Go on! Hit me!" He shut his eyes and jutted out his chin. People were starting to stare.

Booth grabbed his arm as Sweets flinched at the contact and pulled him back down in his chair, "I am not going to hit you. You're twelve."

Sweets sagged and chugged his beer in misery, too. "You know, Booth. I never told you why I asked so many questions about you and Dr. Brennan. We're friends now. I can divulge some of that information without worrying about patient confidentiality."

Booth topped up both glasses and sat stoically.

Sweets traced the water circles on the table with his glass nervously, "Being her psychologist, I needed to know everything I could. With both of you not cooperating in our sessions, I needed more information. I pulled her child services file."

Booth's glass stopped halfway to his lips and glared at his blatant invasion of Bones's privacy.

"It was before I really knew you or Dr. Brennan. I saw her file. I saw what she went through. I even," he swigged his beer and wiggled the empty at Booth, "I went so far as to cross reference the foster parents' names with known offenders. Known abusers." A tear was climbing into the corner of his eye, but it was overshadowed by the pain that crawled across his face, "I... I know what it's like to live that life, Booth. And when I saw the two of you together... I just wanted her to be happy and I thought you were the one person that could make that happen. I'm sorry I pushed. I was wrong."

Booth thought about the scars that Bones had told him about on Sweets' back and winced. The kid, annoying as he might be, was just looking out for her. He put down his beer and sighed.

Sweets poured another, "I'm sorry, Booth."

"I am that guy. I'll figure it out, Sweets."

Adventure Man knew it was time to stop pushing, "I know you will. You always do."

They drank another beer in loosening silence. The both removed their jackets and unbuttoned their collars. They rolled up their shirtsleeves on the second round and decided a game of cricket darts was called for. As they tossed the darts and tallied the score, Adventure Man drowned the plant in the corner with his beer when Booth wasn't looking. Three pitchers later after the bartender had confiscated both sets of car keys Sweets called a cab, "Com'on Booth. I'm going to help you. Since we know that psychology really hasn't helped with your situation with Dr. Brennan, I know where we can go for answers."

Booth had no idea Sweets could hold his alcohol so well. He was still raring to go and Booth was getting a bit bleary-eyed. He watched as the kid payed the tab and pulled out his own wallet, leaving a tip for the waitress. They both piled into a waiting taxi, "Where are you taking me, Sweets? Out with it!" A smile that Booth had never seen before lit up Sweets's face. Turns out Sweets wasn't the anal retentive little Freud he thought he was. Curiouser and curiouser.

Sweets called out an address to the driver and said cryptically, "I hear she's very good."

Booth frowned with concentration, "I have women calling me, Sweets! I don't need a prostitute!"

Sweets just laughed and clapped his shoulder, "Of course not! Guy like you? Don't be ridiculous!"

The buildings were blurring by just a bit too fast to make it comfortable on drunken eyes. "And no damned blind dates!" Booth was slurring now. Why wouldn't the cab driver's head hold still? And why wasn't the little pipsqueak drunk?

"Booth, I would never do that to you without asking first. I'm your friend. You have to trust me."

They climbed out of the cab in front of a fortune teller's shop. Booth squinted as he read the sign, trying to make it stop moving. Once he succeeded, he tried spinning on his heel to pour himself back in the cab, "Oh no. Nonono. No." The cab roared away into the night before Booth could stagger back to it.

"She's not gonna make you do anything you don't want to do. Just listen. Maybe she'll say something that'll help. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right, Booth?" Sweets spun him back around by the elbow and shoved him through the front door.

The smell of incense didn't greet them; it assaulted them. The threadbare red carpet and draped faded fabric hung from every imaginable surface hid the walls and the windows. An ancient crone hobbled through the beads hanging in the doorway and eyed them suspiciously, "What do you want?"

Sweets pushed Booth into a chair at a table with two phones on it and sat himself, "My friend would like his fortune read."

One of her eyes was clouded with a cataract, the other sized up Booth, "Of course he doesn't. Otherwise you wouldn't have to get him blind drunk before bringing him here." She pointed to the door with a gnarled finger, "Out. We're closed."

From behind the beads an elderly man called in a gravelly voice, "Who is it?"

The crone started back to the back room, "Nobody. Just some drunk guy wanting his fortune read."

The beads clattered noisily as he rushed with an arthritic gate into the room. He spotted Sweets, "Don't worry about it. Of course she'll do it."

The crone continued hobbling to the swinging beads, "No, I won't."

The elderly man grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around as she fought him. He stage whispered at Sweets, "It's that Miss Cleo's Psychic Friends Network. She hasn't been the same since she got fired."

The crone wrenched her arm away as they got closer and screeched, "I told you never to speak that name in my house!"

The old man began chasing her around the room while she held her hands over her ears, "Cleo! CleoCleoCleo!"

Sweets watched with distress. If they didn't hurry up Booth was going to remember his drunken way to the door. He opened his wallet and laid a goodly sum on the table. "Will that cover it?"

The old man was still huffing after the crone, "Tell her why you're here."

Sweets rose and easily caught up with the crone, "His true love." He motioned to Booth slumped in the chair.

The old man cackled in triumph, "You hear that? There was never a more noble cause than true love! Look at that schmuck Marta, he's miserable. You can't turn them away now!" Turning back to Sweets he hissed, "Tell her how much you just put on the table!"

Sweets raised his voice near the crone's ear, "One hundred dollars!"

The crone froze in her tracks, "Never in my life have I worked for so little! You insult me!"

Sweets was panicking, digging through his wallet, but knowing the bar tab and taxi had cleaned him out. The old man gently took her arm, "But it's for true love, Marta. True love."

Begrudgingly, Marta crossed to the table and held up each bill, one at a time to her good eye. Sighing, she settled on her chair and picked up the receiver closest to her, "But only because it's for true love. The phone line concentrates the spirits." The old man nodded enthusiastically.

Sweets looked over to watch Booth staring at the woman's clouded eye with an uneasy look on his face. He nudged him, "Booth, pick up the phone."

"I don't believe in this stuff, Sweets. This hocus-pocus."

The old crone fisted both her hands in anger and banged one with startling force on the table, "Seeley Booth! You pick up that phone right now!"

Booth snapped to face Sweets. Sweets held up his hands and shook his head innocently. The crone stuffed the phone into Booth's shocked hand. Booth froze with drunken fear. Marta placed a bowl of coarse salt in front of her and began stirring it with yellowed finger nails. "Yes, yes. It's all here. Bold. Fearless. Lionhearted. Stubborn. Something about..." she pulled the handset away from her ear in disbelief, "Clowns? That mean anything to you, Booth?" Booth nodded, slack-jawed. "And a woman!" Her words softened, "she is breaking your heart, isn't she? Whadd'ya know he really does have a true love."

There was enough alcohol in the universe to make him talk about how he felt about Bones. Booth began putting his phone down and slurred, "OK, that's enough. We're done."

But the crone wasn't so easily beaten. She stirred the salt hypnotically. "She loves you, you know."

Booth stopped the receiver halfway to the cradle, "She does?"

"Oh yes. But something isn't clear for her. There is fear here. There is confusion. There is loneliness. But she is a good woman. A good enough woman."

"Now hold it one minute! Bones is the best." Booth half-stood. Sweets eased him back down into the chair.

"Yes. The best for you. But, Seeley Booth, are you the best for her, hmm?"

"What is that supposed to mean? I've killed to protect her! I've almost died for her!"

"Who, I wonder, are you convincing? Me?" She shook her mangled mane of gray hair, "Him?" She pointed at Sweets. Again she shook her head before pointing a finger rudely at his chest, "You! That's who."

The old crone's eye softened, "She is the one. But you knew this. You tried. But! You blew it! You will always love her. None will compare if you don't."

As if on cue Booth's phone rang. He reached in his pocket without taking his eyes from Marta and sent it to voice mail by pressing a button, "So what do I do?"

"She's afraid. Been hurt so much in her life it is hard for her to trust. Yet she does trust you. That's the problem."

Booth scrunched his face, "It's a problem that she trusts me?"

Nodding vehemently, the old crone continued to stare into the dish of salt. "You have become too important to her to risk losing you."

"She's not gonna lose me!" Booth's eyes begged Marta. When she wouldn't meet his eyes, he shot the same look at Sweets. Sweets shook his head in commiseration.

She ignored them, "But it is only fear. The love is already there." Sweets could tell the Fortune Teller was debating harshly with herself, "I could help you, maybe. But if you still don't think you're good enough..."

"Help? What help? I already told you I'd do anything for her!"

A devious smile snaked across her cracked lips, "Would you? Would you really?"

Coming out of the shadows her husband's eyes twinkled, "Should I get the cauldron ready?"

The crone shrugged, noncommittal, "There really isn't any other way, I guess."

The old man did a jig, "Woo-hoo! We're back in business!"

This had taken far longer than Sweets had anticipated. He needed to get more alcohol into Booth ASAP or he was going to remember everything tomorrow. As Marta dumped dubious contents into the pot, he quietly pulled the old man aside and explained. Without a single question, the old man disappeared behind the beads returning with a home bottled brew and a shot glass. He poured it to the brim and had Booth bottoms up.

A little while later Adventure Man palmed the small vial Marta gave them with a smirk. A love potion. Exactly what the doctor ordered. Adventure Man called a cab and rolled Booth out into the sleeting night.

For those of you that recognize it, Magic Marta and her husband are based loosely off of Miracle Max in The Princess Bride. For those of you who haven't seen it, you can watch it with your kids and laugh like crazy. Thanks for reading!