My reviewers rock! We still have a long way to go, so buckle up and keep your hands and arms inside the car at all times.

Chapter Six: Babies With Bazookas

Booth was on his way back to the Jeffersonian when his phone rang. He checked the number and to his surprise it was someone other than Marcy. He picked up as he wheeled into the parking lot, "Booth."

"Agent Booth, this is Dr. Marshall." Marshall was Pops' doctor. The color drained from his face. Booth always dreaded the call that would signal the beginning of the end of having his grandfather in his life.

"What's wrong? What hospital is he at? I was just down there the other day, he seemed fine..."

"Don't worry, Hank's fine. He's just refusing a change in his medication and I was wondering if you'd talk to him."

"That doesn't sound like Pops. I'll see what I can do." They hung up and Booth thumbed through his phone book and placed the call to his grandfather.

"Hello?" Hank Booth answered his private line in the assisted living facility.

"Pops?"

Warmth filled the phone line, "Squirt! How are you, son?"

Booth cleared Jeffersonian security, making his way to the back of the building, "I'm good Pops. But I just got a call from your doctor..."

Hank sighed, this wasn't an unexpected call. He'd already been arguing with Nurse Godzilla about it. He wasn't surprised she'd ratted him out; she'd rat out the Pope. "About the medicine, right?"

"Yeah, Pops. Listen..."

Hank was sticking to his guns, "I'm not gonna take it."

Booth stopped short, just inside the doors to the lab. "Pops, Dr. Marshall is your doctor. If she says you need to change your meds..."

Hanks voice dropped to a desperate whisper, "I can't crochet if I take the damn stuff."

"You can't..." Booth suddenly remembered that crochet was Pops' code word for sex, "Oh. Right. Well. Have you talked to her about it?"

Hank's whisper was rising with agitation, "Well I don't have to tell Mabel. She was there..."

Booth scrubbed his face. Pops and sex. He didn't want that picture in his head, "Not Mabel, Pops. Dr. Marshall. Have you told her?"

Hank backpedaled like a chastised child, "Well no, but..."

"I'll call her back and we'll see if we can't change it."

Warmth was back in the line, "Mabel would appreciate it."

Booth laughed, "I bet. Listen, I gotta go. I've got to pick up Bones. We're going out to dinner."

"'Bout time you snatched her up, Squirt."

"It's not like that, Pops."

Hank harrumphed, "It should be."

Booth sighed, "I'll call the doctor. You'll be... er... crocheting again in no time."

"Love you, son. Give Tempe a kiss for me."

"Love you, too, Pops." Booth clicked his phone shut and strode off to collect Bones.

Insert Dancing Crochet Needles line break here. :)

Hank Booth hung up the phone next to his bed and rubbed his hands together. So Seeley was finally taking Tempe to dinner, huh? This was the break he'd been waiting for to work on his bucket list. He pulled out the yellow pages. After a few minutes of digging for his reading glasses and wallet he carefully dialed a number, "Hello? I want a dozen red roses delivered tomorrow morning to Dr. Temperance Brennan at the Jeffersonian Institute in Washington D.C."

He listened carefully and verbally nodded along for a moment before interrupting the sales girl, "No. Not that kind; those are junk. The long stem ones. With like two feet of stem. In a crystal vase. With a big bow. Right. Now you're talkin'. I don't care what they cost. And I want the card to say, 'Thanks for a wonderful evening.' Right. And sign it 'Booth'. No, just 'Booth'. Got it? Good."

Hank gave his credit card information and hung up the phone. His mission accomplished, he went off to go find Mabel. Maybe they could pick up that dropped stitch.

Insert corpses doing the cabbage patch dance line break here. :)

Cam watched surreptitiously between her office blinds as Booth ushered Dr. Brennan out of the lab. She waited a full minute after the door swished shut behind them before stepping out into the lab and shouting, "All clear! Let's move!" She shooed the stragglers in front of her as they all headed to the conference room, "Let's go!"

Reaching the conference room, she waited for everyone to take their seats before speaking, "OK, gang. Update time. Mr. Nigel-Murray I haven't had any reports of property damage so I honestly have no idea what your plan was this week."

Standing at the table with a broad smile, Mr. Nigel-Murray took out a small prescription bottle and set it in the center of the table, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Viagra."

Cam's eyebrows shot up as she covered her chuckle with her palm. Laughter erupted around the room. Angela was the first to recover enough to speak, "So that's why Studly has been ducking behind furniture all week."

Jack could barely speak, "Dude, if Booth ever catches on you've been spiking his coffee, he's going to shoot you."

Sweets came rushing in, breathless, "Sorry I'm late. Did I miss anything?" He slid into a vacant chair next to Daisy.

Cam's mouth fell open, "Oh. My. God. The coffee!"

Lance bounced his attention between Cam and the intern, "He gave Booth Viagra?" His head shook as he laughed, "Dr. Hodgins is right. Booth has definite anger issues." He pointed a finger at Mr. Nigel-Murray, still laughing, "You are a dead man."

Cam recovered enough to continue on, "So, we've got Dr. Brennan going out with Grant."

Angela piped in, "Grant 'the grabber'."

Cam couldn't contain herself. It almost wasn't fair. Almost. "The Grabber, right. Fisher and Clark flooded Booth's apartment, so they're now living together..."

Lance's mouth fell into an 'O' of surprise, "That was you?"

Cleaning the teeth was so worth it, Colin Fisher grinned and nodded, "Yup. Tell him and I'll find a way to make your life more of a living hell than mine is."

Lance held up both hands in surrender, as Cam jumped back in, "So, Dr. Sweets what have you been up to?"

An adorable conspiratorial look overtook Lance's features, "Well. I'm only half done, so I don't want to spoil it. But! I have it on good authority we may be working on the wrong partner. I got Booth extremely drunk a few nights ago and he said some things... Well, let's just say we need to be working on Dr. Brennan. I'm on it, though. I'm just waiting on the right moment."

Wendall grimaced, "She definitely the harder one to crack." He smiled broadly and high-fived Vazeeri, "Good thing we have a plan!"

Vazeeri laughed, "We're almost ready!"

Cam tried to calm down the room, "I still haven't seen much of anything. Anyone else?" Disappointed sighs and shaking heads answered her, "OK, gang we need to determine who's going next. Same as last time, Mr. Nigel-Murray write down your number."

Daisy, Vazeeri, and Wendall scribbled down their numbers. Jack took tally, "What about you, Dr. Saroyan? You haven't taken a turn yet."

Cam shook her head, "I've had my hands full running interference with collateral damage. I haven't decided what I'm doing yet. Maybe next week."

Mr. Nigel-Murray raised a finger, "Oh, and as a nod to Mr. Fisher and Mr. Edison, for keeping Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan under one roof during my week, I am willing to continue Booth's daily vitamin."

Cam laughed, nodding, "Let's see who wins." She checked the entries, "And Mr. Vazeeri has it. Mr. Vazeeri would you like Mr. Nigel-Murray to continue?"

Mr. Vazeeri frowned and whispered back and forth with Wendall, "Wen and I are teamed up. We're going to say yes for now. But tomorrow morning I need to make some phone calls." He turned to Mr. Nigel-Murray, "I'll call you later, if that's OK?"

Mr. Nigel-Murray smiled congenially, "Just let me know." He rattled the prescription bottle, "Should have enough for a week or two more."

Cam sighed with good-natured exasperation, "You guys have to be really careful with medication. No unintended drug reactions! I mean it!" Vazeeri and Wendall only smiled innocently in reply. Cam narrowed her eyes in suspicion, "And nothing that'll show up on a drug test."

Mr. Vazeeri raised his right hand, "Wouldn't dream of it! Would we, Wendall?"

Wendall shook his head emphatically, "No way!"

Cam gave a single firm nod, satisfied, "Alright gentlemen, you have one week. Now go home!" She didn't know how much more Booth could take. Viagra? Trying to keep the interns in check was like being a kindergarten teacher for savants with bazookas.

Insert babies with bazookas line break here. :)

They sat on her couch a few inches apart. Bones was dutifully going down Perotta's checklist and Booth had been consistently distracted. From his vantage point he could see just a hint of cleavage as she bent over the bridal magazines. He'd had a throw pillow on his lap for hours.

Bones pointed to a picture in a magazine, "What about something like this?"

"Sure. Whatever you want, baby."

"Baby? Booth, I have been trying not to complain, but that is the fourth time you've called me 'baby' tonight." She whined.

"I haven't been counting," he lied with a winning smile.

Even Bones couldn't mistake that twinkle in his eye, "Booth!" She hit him with a pillow.

"Ah, ah, ah!" He waggled his finger at her. "Is that any way to treat your future husband, Mrs. Booth? I mean, Baby?"

Ooh! He was asking for it! Brennan launched another pillow at him and bounced off the couch as he lunged at her, she let out a rare giggle. He chased her around the room for a few minutes until he managed to tackle her on the couch beneath him. By this time, they were both giggling and breathless.

As they lay there panting, their noses inches apart, Booth watched as Brennan's eyes widened in disbelief. Oh God! He was on top of her. Without a pillow. Booth jumped up like he'd been electrocuted, and blushed furiously, "Sorry, Bones..."

Bones straightened on the couch, "There's nothing to be ashamed of, Booth. It was just a physical reaction to the proximity of a person of the opposite gender."

To hell with it, "I'm not eighteen any more, Bones. It has nothing to do with the proximity of... whatever you said. I have more control than that."

Bones frowned, "I don't think I understand."

"I have to find another place to live, Bones." He shook his head, already packing his bags in his mind.

"But Booth, it's no trouble having you here. I... I don't understand the connection between your physical state and where you live, but I'm sure we can..."

Booth sagged down on the couch next to her. The word schmuck came to him out of the blue. Where had he heard that recently? He was a schmuck, a miserable one, "It's you, Bones!" He softened, "You. You do this to me."

Her genius brain was trying to put all the wrong pieces together, "I don't understand, Booth."

Miserable. Schmuck. Quietly he answered her, almost defeated, "Yes, Bones. You do. Just think about it."

As many times as she'd tried to talk herself out of it, on some level she knew in the basest sense men found her attractive. Booth was a man. All men wanted sex. "Booth, I..."

Dejectedly Booth pushed on, "Exactly, and that's why I have to find another place to live."

"You didn't let me finish. I was going to say if we were pretending to get married anyway, why not just do a little extra research and have sex?"

"What? Bones! No!" Booth waved his hands in front of him emphatically.

"I think we've established you find me attractive. I will confess, I have enjoyed your body symmetry on many occasions when you weren't aware I was observing you and wondered what it would be like to..."

Booth was shaking his head so hard it was starting to make him dizzy, "No. N. O. No sex."

"But Booth! The research would allow us to create a more believable rouse with our friends and family." Seeing she was getting nowhere, she changed tack and smiled coyly, "I'd let you call me 'baby'."

Who was he fooling? Where was he gonna go? More importantly, who was going to protect her with a stalker out there. He'd have to work it out. He threw a pillow at her with a patented Booth smile, "I already do, baby."

Insert dancing party pants line break here. :)

Early the next morning Wendall and Vazeeri were still hard at work in lab three checking a huge scientific distilling apparatus that bubbled, hissed and dripped it's way across two table tops. Small brown bottles of chemicals were lined up neatly next to the teetering pile of books and notes. Vazeeri pulled an open book out of the stack and skimmed the page, "Check that temp four is 287 Fahrenheit."

Wendall scurried to the appropriate thermometer and squinted at it, "287. Check."

Vazeeri shuffled through some more books, "Everything checks out. Now when it reaches the distiller, we should have a clear liquid and a white precipitate."

Wendall inspected the distiller and reported excitedly, "Yeah! Look! It's here!"

Vazeeri left the counter of books and clapped Wendall on the shoulder, "See? And you said you were a bone guy!"

Wendall threw an arm over his friend's shoulders guy-style, "When it's finished we put it in the centrifuge and take the clear liquid to the mass spec, right?"

Vazeeri nodded, "Yes. If everything checks, then we just measure out the doses and voila! Sodium Pentathol!"

Hodgins poked his head in the door with a broad smile, "Sodium Pentathol! Truth serum? No way! So that's what you two have been up to!"

Vazeeri and Wendall both jumped, but Wendall spoke first, "Jeez, Hodgins! You scared the crap out of us! Is it that late already?"

Jack raised his coffee cup, "Good morning to you, too, Wen." He invited himself into the lab and began inspecting the distillery. "Wow, you guys really went to town on this!" He squatted so he was eye-level with the distillate, "So this is it, huh? The little gem used to interrogate American citizens during the Red Scare in the fifties." After the conspiracy theories had finished marching through his brain, Jack froze, "Wait. You're gonna give this to Booth and Dr. B?"

Vazeeri stepped in quickly, "We're going to thoroughly test it first to make sure it's safe."

"And," Wendall interjected, "We're going to give it to them in a safe environment."

"A private environment." Vazeeri added.

Wendall nodded, "Yeah, private. What they say is nobody's business but theirs."

Jack sighed, "Alright, when it's done, we'll run it through the mass spec and a few more tests just to be on the safe side."

Wendall cocked his head, "You're really gonna help us with this?"

Grabbing his coffee cup off the counter, Jack laughed on his way out the door, "It's that or explain to my wife how two interns killed her best friend. See ya!"

In real life Sodium Pentathol is an injected drug. I took some liberties with it in this story for the sake of fun. Oh, and important safety tip: don't try any of this at home. We're pretend professionals, etc. etc. If you don't listen and flood your friend's apartment, force feed him an ED treatment, give his girlfriend an unidentified potion, create a pretend stalker or do anything else mentioned in this story and you get beat up, sued or worse, don't say I didn't warn you.

For the rest of you who did not light your house on fire after watching Beavis and Butthead, by all means, read on!

**Beavis and Butthead come to us courtesy of Mike Judge and MTV. Sadly, the story is true.