Author's Note: This chapter is borderline cracky, but not quite. I don't think crack-fics belong in this fandom which is why this is an outtake even though I don't consider it a crack-fic. Thanks to those who followed me here from "Love and Twenty-Six Adjectives!"

Outtake News: This is the only outtake I am posting for V today. I have another one in the works, but it's not finished and I didn't want to post three chapters at once. So, if I get it written all the way, I will post the second V-outtake at another time. Hopefully it will come before the Z-outtake I have. We'll see.

IMPORTANT: Incase this confuses you, everything that is italic is what is "going on" in Booth's head/his thoughts. There's quite a bit of italic "dialogue." That's mostly Booth pretending to be Brennan.

Setting: Irrelevant. Almost anytime after Sweets enters the picture, or not. You chose. (I sure do seem to default to Sweets a lot, huh?)

Vapid
Without liveliness or spirit; dull or tedious: a vapid party; vapid conversation.

I have no idea why I agreed to this, he thought as he drew spirals on his knee with his finger. If I don't like listening to their squint talk at work, why would I want to listen to it during my free time?

Brennan and the other members of the Jeffersonian had been invited by Boston University to give a series of guest lectures on their research and work. Cam was giving a lecture on poisons and what not, Hodgins on his bugs and particulates, and Angela on her various software programs. Brennan, their honored guest, was giving a lecture on her job, like the rest of them, and also on one of her recently published studies.

Brennan was especially excited for the trip. It had been so long since she had met with other people in her field or given a lecture with her coworkers. Booth, while completely uninterested in the subject matter, was also happy for her. Seeing her so excited over something was infectious.

Because of his support, when she asked him if he wanted to come along, and after Angela mentioned something about being treated to baseball tickets, Booth decided to join them on their trip.

The hotel they were staying in was luxurious, and they had found some great bars, but now he was stuck inside all day while they all rambled on about how gaylussacia brachycera had once helped solve a case and how syxamenthonium chloride is used in murders.

By the time Brennan got to lecture, which was late in the afternoon, Booth was completely done with hearing about science. He tried to pay attention, tried to pick out words he recognized, but soon gave up. Her enthusiasm was obvious, but this time it wasn't enough to raise his spirits.

Her talk was boring. After a while, her voice sounded monotone and flat. See seemed to go on and on in her didactic tone like the teacher in the Peanuts cartoons. To entertain himself, he decided to mentally make her say what he wanted her to say.

As she pointed to an x-ray, he imagined her saying, "And here is an invisible microwave fracture on the psychosemantal bone that nobody can see except me because I'm amazing."

Then, she changed the powerpoint slide. On the screen, an image of the skull popped up. "Here is x-ray of Snooki. This bump on the top of her head is what causes her hair to look like a giant wave."

He continued to make up fake stories for all of the pictures she showed until she begun talking about her involvement with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Booth sat forward in his seat, relieved to finally hear stuff he understood.

He kept listening, waiting for her to bring up her amazing partner who is the best in his field, who is a phenomenal shot, and has great gut instincts. When she didn't mention him within the first ten minutes, he slouched back in his chair and went back to drawing imaginary shapes on his knee.

Then he heard the word 'psychology.' "Our work at the Medico-Legal lab of the Jeffersonian Institute goes beyond pure science. We work hand-in-hand with agents from the FBI who perform other forms of investigating. They also often use psychologists and profilers to help them solve a case. However, there is not a great amount of scientific…"

Booth stopped listening. He'd heard her "psychology is a soft science" speech too many times, and decided to alter it.

In his best smarty-pants voice, he mocked Brennan. "I concede that many people consider psychology a valid science, but I cannot see how that is so when there are twelve year olds practicing it. Dr. Sweets, a psychologist for the FBI, has not yet gone through puberty and therefore cannot know nearly enough to hold a Ph.D.

"As the baby duck with over-sized lips that he is, there is no way that what he says can be valid. After all, Sweets makes my astounding partner and I, Seeley Booth, play silly children's games to study us.

"Because he is an adolescent, he cannot understand the concept of two adults of opposite genders being friends and working together in a purely professional capacity. He still believes girls have 'cooties,' as he calls them, and believes that if a guy is not adverse to a girl's cooties, then he obviously must have a sexual relationship with them."

Booth paused from his inner dialogue to hear what Brennan was actually saying. She had started talking about how she helps dictate what the FBI needs to look for. You're not the only important one, he thought.

He decided to give himself credit where due. "While I am highly valuable, my expertise is rarely what closes the case. Instead, it is my partner's intuition and remarkable investigation skills that really solves a murder. Agent Booth is the best interrogator I know. He can crack a suspect like an egg. One little push and crack, everything spills.

"His great gut is even more impressive. Before Booth, I thought it was ludicrous to believe that one's gut could think. But, he has proved me wrong, something he does quite often even though I would never admit it to him. Booth trusts his gut to tell him what to do and it has proven invaluable to our investigations."

She had started talking about her process, or something, but Booth decided to continue having his imaginary Brennan give him high praises.

"As a matter of fact, I must give all of the credit to Booth. He is the best partner that anybody could ever ask for. He protects me, has the coolest socks, and likes pie. Secretly, I like pie, too, and it's all because of Booth.

"Why don't you join me in standing and giving Special Agent Booth a big round of applause!"

Booth started clapping and bowing. When the room fell silent, he looked around at the people staring at him. Brennan had even stopped lecturing, which he knew meant he was in for a mouthful.

Angela, Hodgins, and Cam were staring at him from their seats on stage with confused looks on their faces. Brennan glared.

"Bones, are you done yet?" Booth stood up and walked towards the platform. "I could really go for some pie."

The people around him started whispering, wondering why he called her Bones. Some of the psychology students in the room began theorizing about the sexual component of pie in the relationship between the two.

"I'm sorry, sir, but this isn't the time for questions," one of the hosts interjected.

Cam shot him a look that instructed him to sit back in his seat. Once he was seated, Brennan cleared her throat and ignored him. "As I was saying…"

Great, he thought. Here we go again.