I think we have an emergency.
~Emergency – Paramore~
*~*~*
2 Months, 3 Weeks earlier
"So Sammy tells me you work for the FBI." Corey said to Sweets, who was trying very hard to look casual as he sat at the ridiculously huge dinner table, which was covered in a white tablecloth and empty plates. Corey had practically kidnapped Sammy 5 minutes after they had arrived; something about "A girl your age needs to learn how to cook fettuccine alfredo already," and "Guests should not have to cook." Then Corey had dragged Sweets into the dining room, practically forced him to sit down in a chair – also a very southern traditional Christmas-y type chair – and for the past 15 minutes he had been sitting there, on the verge of having a panic attack. The only thing keeping him calm was the thought that if somehow he got hurt, Booth and Brennan would not rest until they figured out who had dared to hurt him.
But for now, he was sitting in the chair, trying hard to breathe, his pulse racing.
Get a hold of yourself, he mentally scolded himself. It's not like they'll eviscerate you if you blink weirdly or something.
His mind was not helpful sometimes.
Sammy suddenly snuck out of the kitchen, looking over her shoulder. She walked quietly over to him, leaning next to him, staring at some empty point on the wall.
"Dinner's almost ready. But my dad's gonna be home soon, and my mom just called him to say that you were here, and you're gonna go through their own little interrogation during dinner, so remember what I told you."
"Sammy!" Corey shouted from the kitchen. The blonde winced, having been found out.
"Sorry." She whispered, then raised her voice. "Coming, momma!" and the blonde disappeared, running back into the kitchen.
The kitchen door opened and Sweets' heart started racing again.
"So you're my daughter's boyfriend?" whoever it was asked. Sweets gulped and turned around.
"I'm not her boyfriend, actually. I've just known her for a long time." He managed to say, then relaxed slightly, and stood up, holding his hand out. "Lance Sweets." He said.
"Anthony Clemenza. Call me Tony. Everyone does." Sammy's dad said.
Sweets finally relaxed, sighing quietly.
At that moment, the doors to the kitchen opened and Sammy walked out, holding 4 wine glasses in one hand – a feat of human physiology that he would have to ask Brennan about later – and a bottle of Bordeaux. Somehow, she managed to set all four glasses down and pour wine into each glass without spilling a drop. She then managed to pick up each glass and place one in front of each place. In another second, she was gone.
Sweets pulled out his cell phone, scrolling through each text message for the past year and reading each one.
The door opened and Corey and Sammy walked out, carrying several dishes. Corey was carrying a huge pan of fettuccine alfredo, and Sammy was carrying a bowl of breadsticks in one hand, and in the other salt and pepper shakers. More feats of human physiology. This was going to take an hour for Brennan to explain to him, even though it was only 30 seconds.
The two women set the plates down on the table. Sammy quickly walked over to Sweets, apologizing under her breath, and sat down next to him. Corey sat down next to her husband.
Sweets smiled nervously, unsure of what to do.
*~*~*
15 Minutes Later
*~*~*
"So how do you have a doctorate if you're only 18?" Corey asked. Sammy snickered – she was on her 3rd glass of wine and was slightly buzzed, finding humor in everything she heard.
"I'm actually 25." Sweets explained. "I graduated when I was 14 with my high school diploma, and I got my doctorates when I was 22."
"You look like you're Sammy's age. No offense to either of you. Sammy, I think you've had enough wine, sweetie."
Everyone looked towards the blonde, who had started her 4th glass of wine, and was simultaneously trying to eat and hold her wine glass.
"I'm fine." Sammy said, her words slightly slurred. Corey sighed, then took the glass away from her daughter. Sammy was about to protest, but got distracted by the food on her plate – her second helping.
Sweets, on the other hand, had taken one sip of his wine, and was eating his food at a normal, freaked-out human pace. After a moment of silence, he finally broke the silence.
"I like all the decorations in the living room. They're very, uh, festive." He said, the nervousness evident in his voice.
Sammy started snickering again. Corey slapped her daughter's hand, forcing her to fall silent.
"Thank you. It's more decorated than usual, 'cause Sammy's sister is coming over with her husband and little ones for Christmas." Corey explained.
"I still haven't figured out how someone who looks like Sarah does can get married to a guy who looks like Charles." Sammy stated, trying very hard not to slur her words, and ending up sounding more drunk than she actually was.
"Because they are in love." Corey told her daughter, then turned to look at Sweets. "Sammy's sister was the lead singer for a rock band, and that's how she met her husband. And admittedly, their looks are very different."
"He's Australian. She's like a mix of Italian and Scottish and German and all those other ones. Very Aryan, but she has really dark red hair. She looks more Sicilian than Italian. I on the other hand…" Sammy lost her train of thought as she noticed her parents and Sweets all staring at her. "What'd I say?"
"What did we tell you about talking about anthropology and genetics and all that stuff at the table?" her father asked. Sammy's facial expression was priceless – a mix of confusion, shock, and misunderstanding.
"I don't understand how I'm not supposed to talk about my college majors when I'm…" she trailed off, rubbing her forehead. "I think I'm drunk." She managed to say.
Sweets shook his head, then grabbed Sammy's free hand.
"I think it's time I get you home." He told her. "Thank you for having me over, Mrs. Clemenza." He said, then dragged the very unbalanced strawberry blonde behind him as he made his way to the front door.
"You're welcome. Any time."
Sweets somehow ended up having to carry Sammy to his car, as she was falling down so much. As he opened the passenger door and helped her in, she looked at him, her blue eyes wide.
"Have I ever told you about the last time I got this drunk?" she slurred.
"No, but if it's anything like this, it's a good thing that I'm taking you home. Where do you live?" he asked, getting into the driver's side of the car.
There was a pause as Sammy struggled to remember.
"I don't remember."
Sweets sighed.
"You can use my guest room, then." He said, and pulled out of the driveway, trying to make sense of Sammy's drunken conversation with him.
How did someone with a mom like Corey end up so insane? His mental voice started talking to him again and he shook off the question, unsure of how to answer.
*~*~*
A/N: This chapter just entertains me. Sweets is all nervous, Sammy's a freaking ninja in one scene and too drunk to walk in another, and Corey's trying to make her daughter act normally. And Sarah's – as in Sammy's sister – husband is based off my very close friend CP, and her rock band is based off mine.
Christmas related: Unfortunately, they don't sell anything similar to The Poster anywhere, so that rules it out. Though I think my parents are gonna get me a calendar instead.
Review, please.
