Author's Note: Another outtake! I think I might actually like this one as much as the real chapter, which is a first.

Setting: Booth and Brennan are in an established relationship. Sorry for spoiling it for you—not. It's not really cannon-y, so it doesn't matter when this takes place. It just does. Well, except for the fact that the interns exist and that it was before the S6 finale... oh whatever. If you can't tell by now, I really don't like pinning things down.

Synopsis: Four times when Booth claims he urgently needs Bones, and one when he actually does.

Urgent
Requiring immediate action; pressing, imperative.

He was waiting for Bones to finish up whatever she was doing so they could head back to Interrogation where a suspect was waiting for them. He was simply sitting in Brennan's office, playing Tetris on his phone all by himself, when Vincent Nigel-Murray walked in and interrupted his peace and quiet.

He also distracted him and stopped Booth from beating his high score, which the gun-bearing FBI agent did not appreciate in the slightest.

In typical Vincent fashion, he invaded Booths' space and started babbling about Tetris.

"Did you know that Tetris originated from the Soviet Union," he asked in that high-pitched British accent of his. Vincent sat on the couch next to Booth and peered over his shoulder at the screen. "Each of those shapes are called tetrominoes and are designed based on the letters I, J, L, O, S, T, and Z."

Booth glared at the budding scientist, but Vincent failed to notice. As he started babbling facts about brain productivity and Tetris world records, Booth got up from the couch and exited out of the game.

Discreetly, he texted Brennan, SOS—SAVE ME!

Within moments, Brennan came flying through the door of her office, rubber gloves still on her hands.

Before she could say anything and spoil his lie, Booth clapped his hands together and quickly strode to the door. "Looks like Bones found something," he lied as he guided her out of the room.

Once they were far enough away, they stopped walking. "Thanks for saving me."

She crossed her arms. "There was no reason for you to text me as if you were in danger, Booth," she reprimanded.

Booth nodded his head and promised to never do it again. What he was really thinking was how hot it was to be scolded by the sexy professor.

If he had to choose one thing he really didn't like about working for the FBI, and it couldn't be the horrible coffee, it would be partner-less therapy sessions, hands down. (Well, maybe just the therapy sessions in general, he corrected).

Presently, Sweets was blabbering on and on about chemicals in the brain and a whole bunch of other scientific terms Booth didn't care about. If he wanted to be lectured, all he had to do was follow Brennan around for about two minutes and she would also be talking up a scientific storm.

Booth had simply said was that he thought Brennan might have secretly started liking pie. Cue Sweets' psycho-nonsense.

Impatient with Sweets' speech and the session as a whole, Booth couldn't sit still. He kept shifting his position or bouncing his legs. Eventually, he crossed his legs to hide his phone and texted Brennan.

This time, the text read, Sweets wants to meet. Be here in ten?

When she walked in the door, Booth swore she was an angel sent from God himself. Her cheeks were flushed, evidence that she had been rushing, and her eyes looked alive in hopes that she wasn't late.

Booth looked back and smiled. "Heya Bones." Sweets started to greet her and ask why she had come, but Booth interrupted him. Turning back to the baby duck of a psychologist, he said with a grin, "Well, looks like we gotta jet, Sweets."

Just as quickly as last time, he got Brennan out of the room and closed the door, leaving behind a very confused Booth.

Brennan wasn't having any of his nonsense. "You're doing it again."

Booth knew he was caught but tried to feign innocence. He threw on his most charming smile and asked, "Doing what, Bones?"

She grabbed him by the shoulders, turned him around, and marched him back into Sweets' office like a mother sending her child back to the principal's office. After explaining Booth's attempted jailbreak, Brennan and Sweets both agreed Booth would have to stay for the duration of his appointment. In other words, Booth was sentenced for another forty-three minutes of pure torture.

In his book, she owed him big time.

With a flourish, he slid his card and went up the steps of the platform. "Good afternoon Bones, Fisher," he greeted in his "Bri'ish" accent, rubbing his palms together.

Brennan briefly looked up from the femur she was studying to look at him, but quickly resumed her observations without uttering a word.

Fisher, on the other hand, was a bit chattier. "It's really not," Fisher started. Sighing, he added. "The word 'good' implies that life is progressing nicely. Today, however, is not. How depressing, that a single person cannot have a decent moment in a single day."

Booth's eyebrows shot up but he didn't reply. After an awkward moment, he turned back to his partner. "We have somewhere to be. Right now."

Brennan shook her head. "I'm not done cataloging all of the injuries, Booth."

"Don't care, let's go. Chop chop."

After setting down the femur, she took off her gloves and started walking to her office to grab her coat. As they walked, she asked, "What's so time sensitive?"

Booth patted his stomach. "I'm hungry, and you owe me lunch for putting Sweets on me." She stopped buttoning her coat mid-button and glared at him. Rolling her eyes, she started to take the coat back off, and walked to her office.

"Hey, wait a second," he called as she left the office to return to the platform. "It's important! I haven't eaten in two and a half hours!"

It was a little after six in the morning when she got the phone call. She and Booth were supposed to have the day off from cases because he had a lecture to give in Quantico. The early phone call made her think maybe a more pressing case had come up.

She wasn't even close.

"Bones," he said, not even bothering to use any polite greeting. "I need you at my apartment as soon as you can get here. It's urgent."

He sounded fairly distressed, which worried Brennan. Hurriedly, she sat up in bed. "Booth? Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine, just hurry," was his reply before he hung up.

Truly concerned, she quickly grabbed a jacket and slipped her feet into warm boots before rushing to her car. The roads were icy, but Booth sounded like he was in trouble. If she didn't care about showing up in sweats, a t-shirt, and college sweatshirt, she certainly didn't care enough about the road conditions or speed limits.

She didn't even bother to knock. Instead, she kicked the door down like he taught her and called out his name. Caught off-guard, Booth emerged from his bedroom in his boxers and white dress shirt, two ties slung over his arm. Both of their faces showed shock.

"Which tie do you think I should wear today?"

Catching her breath, she grimaced and took a few steps closer. "You woke me up, and implied you were in real danger, to ask me which tie you should wear," she stated. It wasn't a question.

Booth nodded and held out the ties. "I thought it might be best to look professional, so I dug this plain black one out, but I feel stuffy in it. I feel more like myself in the one with purple and blue stripes. It's flashy."

His hopeful tone erased the annoyance she was feeling towards him. Softly, she picked up the brightly colored tie and draped it around his neck. Avoiding his eyes, she helped him tie it and get it perfectly center.

She didn't consider helping Booth chose his wardrobe as a pressing matter, but for the moment, she was going to ignore it. When he returned from his trip, however, she would give him her guidelines as to what, exactly, constituted as an emergency.

If she was being completely honest, she almost ignored his most recent text message altogether. Lately, he had been calling and texting her left and right claiming there was something critical she was needed for. Springing him from a session with Sweets or going to lunch was not an emergency like he seemed to think it was. So when she saw he had texted her to meet him at his apartment as soon as she could, she ignored his request.

But then, she suddenly felt the need to go. Call it a gastrointestinal feeling, or the fact that she had nothing better to do, but within fifteen minutes of receiving his text, Brennan found herself gathering her stuff to head to Booth's apartment.

She was welcomed at the door by a relaxed Booth. As she stepped into his apartment, he took off her coat and ushered her to his couch where a bottle of wine was decanting. After she sat down, and he handed her a glass, she asked, "What was so imperative that you needed me here right away?"

Booth sat down next to her and shrugged. In one hand he held his own glass of wine, and with the other he rested his hand on her knee. "I missed you."

Brennan grinned. "People are going to start calling you the boy who cried lion if you keep telling me everything is urgent."

"Wolf, Bones. The boy who cried wolf," he laughed. After a few moments of comfortable silence, Booth questioned, "Can't a guy miss his best friend and need to see her?"

She set her wine down and leaned closer to him, her lips inches from his. "If that's all we were," she answered in a seductive tone.

He pressed his smiling lips to hers, forgetting about the lasagna he had in the oven… which ended up leading to one very burning call to the fire department.