Spoilers: Nope.

Disclaimer: Nope. But one thing to say for parents: I'm glad they exist. I mean, my parents are away for one night, and my brothers take it as a free ticket to be obnoxious. I don't fight with my brothers, but now...I'm tempted to begin. Well, either it's them or the fact that I got about six hours' sleep last night. Not my choice, either. I'm a bitter person, I think...

Author's Note: Not much to report, though I think my brother's about to blow up the kitchen…Better go see to that. Okay, some introspection, and surprise visitors!! Guess who! And I'm not sure about the end...


"Good night, Bones."

"Night, Booth."

Booth closed the door. Brennan had forcefully suggested that they keep to their own, designated, rooms for the remainder of the assignment. Booth had protested, arguing that they'd come so far, and that being able to sleep in the same room was proof of that. Brennan had come back with the bizarrely wise argument that by even having this argument they'd not progressed at all.

Eventually, Booth had given up. So they both retreated to their respective rooms, abandoning Booth's 'fort'. They had, however, not bothered to pack up much more than their mattresses and a blanket or two. Half of their bedding was still in the basement.

Brennan decided it was for convenience. Booth was just having attachment issues.


When the light woke Booth up, he looked around, disoriented. Where was he? And why was Bones not there? He sat up, and the room was warm; definitely not the basement. A chest-of-drawers sat against one wall, a closet to another, the bed and a small table with a lamp to the third. The other wall was bare but for the door.

He groaned and flopped heavily back onto his bed. He'd stuffed things up. Badly.

He and Brennan had been getting into a comfortable relationship; finally. Undefined, yes, but they'd been comfortable in their little room. It may not have carried into work, into the real world, but having that experience was something of a plausible foresight.

He suddenly laughed, wondering how he could possibly have distorted the memory of something that had happened only the day before. Yes, Seeley. Waking up next to Bones every day? Plausible, my ass… he snapped to himself.

Groaning again, he rubbed his hands over his face. He didn't want this to annoy him so much, and he wasn't helping himself when it came to the 'Happy Place'-thoughts. He heard Sweets' voice in his head asking him why he was so mad.

'Can you express it, Agent Booth? Expression can help.' He chuckled when his mental hands reached out and clamped around the kid's neck. Oh, well that's morbid, Seeley. Laughing…

He pulled back the blankets, hoping the cold would wake him up properly and give him something else to think about. It did.

He stood in the room clad only in his underwear and let the cold invade his thoughts. He sighed mentally, then grabbed his towel.


Brennan was already in the kitchen trying to avoid a conversation with a very persistent Alex when Booth traipsed down the stairs looking very bored. His hair was stuck up at all angles, as if he'd towel-dried it and left it. Brennan forced back her laughter.

"Sleep well, Booth?" she said in a mocking tone as she poured him a coffee. He nodded.

"Thanks. Like a rock," he replied noncommittally. She couldn't tell if he was returning the mocking, or being genial. "You?"

"Great," she lied.

"Oh yeah?" he asked casually. Brennan didn't buy it; she could see the challenge in his eyes. She'd known her decision to sleep in her own room had been the only way to go, but that didn't mean that a tiny part of her didn't regret it. Yeah, Brennan, the female part of you, she told herself bitterly.

She nodded. "Mm. Yeah. Toast?"

"But you're up so early," he pushed. His tone was still almost bored, but she could hear the curiosity. Alex silently tried to will Laura downstairs.

"I'm always up early, Booth," she reminded him. Her tone, on the other hand, was slightly warning and a little irritated. He was catching her out, and she didn't like it.

"Not since we got here," he urged. Admit it!

"That's because I wasn't allowed to work." Alex took an astonished note of the fact that she didn't say 'didn't have to go to work'.

"But you don't have to work today," he said, a little more cheerily. He sounded happy that she didn't have to work, but Alex suspected it had more to do with the fact that he was winning the implied argument.

"No. But I wanted to write as much as I'm able before we can leave. This environment is surprisingly conducive to writing…" she mused, in her own world for a few minutes. He had to admit; when they'd first met, she'd been a terrible liar. Now, she was almost fooling him.

He wasn't sure whether to be proud or worried of that fact.

"You know, you can sleep with me again, if you'd like," he suggested, his voice deepening just enough to make her shift unconsciously towards him both in challenge and want.

"No, I can't," she protested quietly. They stared at each other for a few minutes, completely oblivious to Alex as he spotted Laura rounding the corner into the kitchen. He immediately put a finger to his mouth, tipping his head to where the partners wee standing in the kitchen about a foot apart, staring at one another.

Laura looked at Alex questioningly, but his attention was already back to the kitchen.

As Booth stared at Brennan, he saw something that nearly made him fall over. Her eyes flicked to his mouth at least three times, each for the duration of a mere blink. But that was three times too many. This was the kind of behavior he expected from himself, not from his stoic partner.

He made up his mind.

"No. No, you can't," he breathed finally. His voice was full of something that sounded to Brennan like regret, but he was also positive. Alex and Laura were both stunned. How was it possible for both parties to lose the same bet?

Brennan didn't flinch; instead standing taller and smiling slightly. She'd won this one. "So. Toast?"


Brennan looked up from her keyboard as a quiet banging came from just outside the room. When it stopped, she looked back down, deciding she was just going stir-crazy. Then it came again. She tensed and moved towards the sound.

It was the front door. She let out a huge breath as her shoulders relaxed. She yanked the door open.

"You should be very happy that I'm not allowed my gun," she announced to the person on her doorstep, regardless of who it was. Unfortunately for her, it was Cullen. Not that she cared. She was no less bitter about him sending her on this assignment than she had ever been.

"Good day to you, too, Doctor Brennan. May I come in?" he asked. There was acid sarcasm to his civility. Brennan opened the door and led him in, suddenly off put by being alone with him.

She called for Booth and he came running down the stairs, smacking straight into Cullen. Brennan nearly laughed, but refrained, covering her mouth.

"Oh, Sir." Booth cleared his throat. "Sorry. I uh, I though, uh…"

"It's alright, Agent Booth. Just don't make a habit of it," Cullen said sternly. He looked almost as if he wanted to both yell and laugh. It was not a flattering expression. Just as Booth was about to say something most likely very embarrassing, Alex and Laura came down the stairs after him. Laura looked baffled.

Alex looked thrilled. "Yo! 'C'-to-the-shizzle!" he exclaimed, holding his hand up for a high-five. The other three agents stared at him in shock. Brennan was just lost. She nudged Booth's side.

"I don't know what that means." The four agents looked at her, three of them with pitying smiles. It was Cullen's turn to look lost. He cleared his throat. All eyes went to him.

"Now. The bureau was going to send someone over here to check up on you. I volunteered because you are my agents, and this is partially my assignment. Together with Doctor Sweets, we are going to evaluate your progress, both as agents, and doctors, pardon me; and as partners."

Booth and Brennan stared at him. "Sweets?!" Booth exclaimed. "You're sending in Sweets? He's twelve, what does he know about playing house?" he scoffed.

"So that's what you've been doing is it, Booth? Playing house?" came a mocking tone from behind them. All eyes were now on the newly arrived Sweets. Brennan audibly groaned, as Cullen grinned and shook his hand.

"Go back to Candyland, Sweets," Booth bit under his breath. Sweets turned to him again.

"You know, Booth, talking to yourself is the first sign of severe loneliness," he warned, only half-mocking. Booth's jaw clenched.

"So. Agent Rice, Agent Campbell, this is Doctor Sweets. He'll be evaluating you some time in the near future." Booth was scared; Cullen was being far too polite. "Now, is there someone who wants to give me a tour?" he asked.


"Agent Booth?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Is this mess yours?" Cullen asked, sounding terrifyingly like a father trying to get his child to confess so he can punish him. Booth's chest tightened.

"Um, yes, Sir."

"Why is your bedding in the basement, Agent Booth?" Booth was aware of all eyes on him; Sweets' most of all.

"Um." He tossed a glance at Brennan. So did Sweets. She looked awfully uncomfortable. Booth looked like a deer in the headlights. He'd been caught out. "Well, uh, Bones and I decided that this looked like a good…bedroom?" It was an answer, but it sounded more like a question. He was waiting for a hiding.

Sweets choked not-very-subtly on something nonexistent while Alex and Laura stared at Cullen, waiting for his response.

Brennan remained still, folding her arms across her chest as if warding off the incoming comments. Or keeping something in.

"Bedroom?" Cullen finally choked out. The poor man sounded torn. The 'director' part of him was angry; the logical part of him bewildered; the emotional part ecstatic and the slow-to-catch-on part confused. All at the same time.

"Well, technically, it was a fort," Booth said quietly. Cullen did a double-take. What the hell?! He wondered inwardly. He settled for rolling his eyes and groaning.

"Agents Rice, Campbell; care for a coffee?" he asked suddenly, turning away from a very sheepish looking Booth. They nodded dumbly, subtly handing a twenty behind their backs. Cullen didn't notice. "I'll let Sweets have his way with these two first."


"So."

"So."

"So."

"Anyone?"

"No."

"No."

"Fine. We're going to be here until one of you has something to say, you know."

"Uh…"

"I made coffee this morning. I'm done, can I go? 'Cause I really wouldn't mind one of those coffees…"

"No, Agent Booth. Sit down."

"What if we have nothing to report?"

Sweets laughed. "You two? Not possible. Once a fortnight isn't enough for the two of you…" He shook his head amusedly.

"What's that suppose to mean?" interjected Brennan; her first actual sentence since the 'session' had started. Sweets rolled his eyes.

"Look, I know neither of you want to be here-"

"Damn right!" Booth.

"You don't really need to be a psychologist to infer that." Brennan.

"- But the sooner you give me something substantial, the sooner you both can leave."

He was met with stubborn stares.

"Fine. I'll have to lead. And you think I'm a child!" he muttered. "Okay. Tell me…about the basement."

The stares continued, only now they looked a little more perturbed than bored.

"Look, if you're not communicating, the assignment has failed, and you'll be split up," he threatened. That wasn't entirely true, but it worked.

"Fine. What do you want to know?" Booth sighed finally. Brennan crossed her arms and her legs in an almost comically obvious gesture.

"What exactly went on?"

"Went on? Are you implying that-"

"No, Doctor Brennan, I'm not implying anything. Let me rephrase…" his hands moved under his chin in a parody of prayer as he thought. "Why were you sleeping in the basement? And why together?"

Before Booth could speak, Brennan began.

"It was his idea!"

"Yeah, Bones, mature. Just blame me!"

"Well it was your idea, Booth."

"Oh, right. Yeah, it was…"

"Agent Booth, why did you decide to sleep in the basement?" he tried again. Persistence is key, Sweets repeated over and over. Trying to ward off impatience with these two was like trying to ward off a shark with a fly swatter; to be achieved, it had to be done perfectly. But the likelihood was that it was simply impossible.

"I thought it was cool," he replied defensively, crossing his arms.

"Now who's being the mature one?"

"Whatever, Bones."

Sweets took a deep breath. "Please. Remember: I get answers, you get gone."

Brennan forced herself not to reprimand his abuse of the English language. Booth looked hopeful.

"Now. Where exactly in the room were you sleeping?" he asked after some consideration.

"On our own beds." Booth.

"Against the left wall." Brennan.

Sweets smiled as he wrote something down. Their answers were so typical, it felt like coming home.

"Well, technically, Booth, after Monday, it was one bed," Brennan mused. Sweets sat up, pen poised. Booth glared at her.

"What?" Sweets breathed, forcing himself not to yell.

"Well, the second night, it was sort of one bed, because Booth pushed his mattress against mine," she stated factually. Booth's jaw tightened.

"Bones," he warned through clenched teeth.

"What? He asked. And I want to leave," she whined defensively. Sweets was still recovering.

"And, um, how, uh…why did you do that, Agent Booth?" Sweets was almost afraid to ask.

"I was drunk! It wasn't my fault!"

"Yeah, but, you weren't drunk the next morning when you –"

"Bones!"

"People!" Sweets called. "Now. Please. One at a time, children. You were drunk?"

"Um…yes…?"

"Huh. But alcohol doesn't force you to do things you don't want to do, does it?" It was actually a question, like he was asking for confirmation.

"It lowers inhibitions by playing with your brain chemistry!" he protested. Brennan looked at her shoes.

"Yes, but inhibition is the thing that keeps us from doing all those things we want to do, no?" Booth was starting to get annoyed over the questions at the end of potentially harmful statements. Booth said nothing. Sweets looked to Brennan.

"How did you feel about that?"

"About what? Alcohol?"

"No, about Booth's actions that night."

"He was drunk."

"I know that, Doctor Brennan. But how did you feel?" Brennan wanted to hit him very hard. She wasn't one for emotions, and this was just getting annoying.

"I felt drunk," she answered finally. Sweets dramatically smacked his forehead against the tabletop and groaned.

"Come on, Temperance! Just one word. Please. One emotion you felt." There was silence as she thought. Booth stared at her. He really wanted to know what she'd say. Probably 'annoyed', he thought cynically. Sweets looked incredibly eager, as if he wanted to finish the session and get drunk himself.

"Conflicted."

Both men's heads cocked to one side. The sight would have been comical had not they all looked so serious.

"Conflicted? You had conflicting emotions?"

"Yes, obviously. Now can we go? I've given you one word."

"Not if it's that word," he protested. He was finally making some leeway, and he wasn't prepared to give it up. "Between which emotions?"

She didn't answer for at least a minute.

"Fear and familiarity," she finally said. Booth frowned a little, but couldn't keep the smile from his face. To him, that all but said 'love'. Whether he was right or not, and whether it was romantic or not, he had no clue.

Sweets' face lit up. "Yes? What do you commonly associate these two emotions with, Temperance?"

"Well, I equate fear with enclosed spaces, and familiarity with things that are familiar," she stated simply. Sweets nodded his shrink-nod.

"But together, Temperance, what do they equate to?" She toyed with the question for a few minutes, Booth's eyes boring into the side of her head. Sweets stared at her curiously. When she finally answered, neither was more shocked than she.

"Something I've never quite felt before."