Author's Note: Next chapter. This one takes place about a day or so after the events in The Twist in the Twister. And just so you'll know now, this is another venture into goofiness. :)

Extra note: For those of you who do not have iPads (or don't check out certain websites) there is this app available for Bones which includes an online "journal" for Sweets where he talks about the cases from his POV or about other stuff he's doing off-screen during the episodes. In the one for this episode, he mentions attending an opera with Daisy and seeing the The Barber of Seville.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is always appreciated. :)

Peanutmeg: Thanks for the review. Having actually worked in a gas station for a brief period of time, I can relate to the difficulty of finding edible food in one. :) The scenes with Booth and Sweets just hanging out in that episode were among my favorites, so it was fun to extend them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this snippet as well.

CauseAscene: Thank you. I'll admit that writing these is a bit of an experiment for me because, like you, I prefer longer works...thus why even my one-shots are long in comparison to the norm. :D But still, I like having the chance to play around with my normal style, and I hope that you continue to enjoy these snippets.

Super Ario: Yeah, the surest way to have something happen is to insist that it won't in the world of Bones (or in many TV/movie worlds for that matter). :) The idea of Booth screening Sweets' food made sense to me given the high tide of over-protectiveness that Booth was exhibiting in that episode. But I also enjoy seeing "big brother Booth" come out as well. :)

Charlotte Thornton: I'm actually with you on this. I find egg salad sandwiches unappealing in the best of times...one can only imagine what you'd be getting into at a gas station. :D And yes, as I mentioned elsewhere, I love scenes of Booth and Sweets just being around each other, being themselves. It's very endearing...and part of the reason why this chapter was born...

D: I know, right? Whenever I hear someone on-screen insist that certain things will "never happen" I just want to smack them upside the head and say "of course they will now...now that you've said that." :) And yeah, that gas station looked like a bit of a hole in the wall kind of place...so Booth and Sweets should probably be grateful that they have such strong constitutions. :)

Phosphorescent: Thank you. "Missing scenes" fics are among my favorite to write and read, so it was fun to fill in the spaces of that episode. And I have to admit that the image of Booth snatching those sandwiches away from Sweets as a way to "protect" him still makes me smile. :)

Lives in the now: Thank you for the review. I love the show, but we get so little time to spend with our favorite characters each episode. Thus, it's a joy for me to spend that extra time with them in fic. I hope you enjoy this snippet as well.

Chapter Five—Errands

Sweets hummed as he put the finishing touches on the last report on his desk, and after hitting the "send" button, he leaned back in his chair.

Last night he had gone to the opera with Daisy and had seen The Barber of Seville. He wasn't sure if he would like it and was worried that he wouldn't be able to understand it, but he was pleasantly surprised to find that he enjoyed himself immensely.

The thing that had stayed with him the most though was the music. Sweets had loved music since he was a child playing classical pieces on the piano. His love of music had taken many forms, including a death metal stage that he never had really let go of, and now he had found a new way to enjoy it.

Sweets stopped humming and stretched. It was the weekend, but the psychologist had still had a couple of reports to finish, so he decided to come in for a couple of hours in the morning. After a quick cup of coffee and a shower, he threw on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt and took the subway over to the Hoover Building. Now his work was done, and he was trying to figure out what he wanted to do next.

'Daisy said that she's going to be at the Jeffersonian for most of the afternoon…So I guess I'm on my own,' he pondered.

Sweets stood up and turned off his computer and stretched again, raising his arms toward the ceiling. It was rare for him to be left with nothing to do and by himself, and he found that he was at a loss to know what he wanted to do.

His stomach suddenly growled and Sweets took it as a sign of what he might want to attend to first. There were several restaurants that were only a couple blocks away from where he was now.

'It's a nice day,' the psychologist told himself as he pulled on the light jacket he had worn on the way in. 'A walk and a meal might be good.'

Humming again, Sweets opened the door and started to walk out…and ended up running right into Booth.

"Hey Sweets, watch where you're going," Booth grumbled. The agent then blinked, surprised. He wasn't used to seeing the psychologist in casual wear at the office.

"Sorry," Sweets said, sheepishly. "I was just getting ready to…."

"How about lunch?" Booth interrupted. "I'm done here, and Bones is spending the day with Angela and Hodgins and their baby while I'm stuck with a bunch of errands. There's a new Chinese place I've been wanting to try. And hey, I'll buy."

Now it was Sweets' turn to be surprised. Recently, he had been unable to shake the feeling that Booth was avoiding him somewhat as a preventative measure against prying. The last thing Sweets had expected was an invitation for lunch.

"Sure, sounds great," the therapist smiled.

"Great," Booth grinned as he patted Sweets' shoulder. "But first we needed to finish up this list of chores that Bones gave me this morning."

He then guided Sweets down the hallway, and the psychologist could not stop thinking about how Booth had used the word "we" in relation to those errands.

"Look Sweets, we don't need that. All Bones wanted me to get is some soap for the dishwasher," Booth protested. The two of them were standing in an aisle in a supermarket staring at the rows of boxes of dishwasher soap.

"Soap is not always enough," Sweets insisted as he held a bottle in each hand. "You need to use this wash booster and this dishwasher cleaner every once in a while. Trust me on this."

"I've just been using soap ever since I moved into that place," Booth argued. "It's been fine."

"Have you looked inside your dishwasher recently?" Sweets said. "Who knows how much filth is trapped in there?"

"Filth? It's not like I'm putting my dirty laundry and my shoes in there, Sweets," Booth groaned. "You know, we do eat the stuff that's stuck on those plates."

"Yeah, and imagine months and years worth of bits of that food trapped in there," Sweets added. "Let me guess, often Doctor Brennan spends time scraping at the dishes after they come out. Am I wrong?" Booth glared at him before snatching both bottles from the psychologist's hands and shoving them into the basket with the dish soap.

"Let's get out of here before you have me buying stuff to clean off the toothbrush holder," the agent said, walking briskly.

"I don't think they sell anything like that," Sweets said as he tried to keep pace with him. "Although, I do know about something that could help if you think it needs cleaning…."

"So withdraw or deposit?" Booth asked the psychologist as they watched another person walk over to the counters.

Presently, the two of them were standing in the middle of a long line of people, all of them having waited until the last moment to visit the bank before it closed for the day. While they waited, Booth and Sweets had made a game of using their skills to see if they could guess what each person in front of them would do once they made it over to one of the tellers.

"Hmmm, I'm going to go with deposit on this one," Sweets said after a moment of consideration.

"Why deposit?" Booth asked.

"Well, she keeps looking around, as if to gauge her surroundings," Sweets replied. "She's probably nervous that someone might take the money that she has on her or that she might lose it. Also, her hands keep moving to cover the opening of her purse, as if to protect it. Something someone might do if they had something valuable inside."

"Uh-uh, you're wrong on this one," Booth said, shaking his head. "She's pulling money out."

"What?"

"Look at those flyers that she's got jammed into that purse," Booth said. "She keeps having to stuff them back down because she has so many. Plus, there's the look on her face. That's the look of someone who doesn't want to get caught. My guess is that she's going on a shopping spree and she doesn't want anyone to know about it."

Just then they watched as the women handed the teller a slip of paper and a card. A few seconds later, the teller started to count out some money, placing it in front of the woman as he did so.

"I knew it," the agent grinned triumphantly. "That's two in a row that you've missed Sweets."

"Yeah, but I got the first two right," Sweets pointed out. "So right now, we're even…and that'll change soon enough." Booth's grin grew.

"How about we make this more interesting?" the agent said. "Whoever gets the next one right gets to make the other one carry all the dry cleaning to the car. Deal?"

"You're on," Sweets smiled.

A while later, Booth was driving down the road, having picked up all of his and Brennan's dry cleaning, a smile plastered on his face.

"Geez Booth, you didn't have to park that far from the building," Sweets complained, rubbing his shoulder. He had been tempted to ask Booth why he waited until there was a mountain of clothes to be taken care of before going to the dry cleaners, but had held his tongue, lest Booth do more than just make him carry around a huge stack of suits and dresses.

"Sorry Sweets," the agent chortled. "But you didn't really want to make those little old ladies or that guy minding those three kids park in the middle of nowhere, did you?"

"Well no…."

"Good," Booth said. Sweets was about to say more when his stomach growled loudly again.

"Ok, ok. We'll head over to the restaurant now," Booth responded.

"Thank you," Sweets said, grateful. For a couple of moments they rode in silence and then Booth pulled out a CD and inserted it into his car's stereo. Seconds later, familiar music filled the car.

"Hey…that's from The Barber of Seville," Sweets said.

"It is," Booth nodded. "These are some of my favorite parts." They listened quietly for a bit before Booth spoke again.

"Did you enjoy it? Going to the opera with Daisy?" he asked.

"Yeah, I did," Sweets nodded. "It was beautiful, just like you said….but…I still didn't understand it. I keep feeling like I missed something."

"You're over thinking this again, Sweets," Booth said. "There is nothing wrong with appreciating a thing of beauty even if you don't get every nuance of it."

"I suppose not," Sweets said before turning to stare out the window.

"Sweets?"

"The tornado…the one we saw when we were talking to those storm chasers," Sweets blurted out.

"Ok, yeah," Booth said, confused. "What about it?" The psychologist shook his head.

"I…for a few seconds there…I just couldn't move," Sweets said, his voice growing soft. "I…I was scared."

"Yeah, maybe, but you kept it together, right?" Booth said. "You got everyone into the storm cellar and everything was fine."

"I still don't know how I was able to do that," Sweets continued. "It's like I wasn't even thinking, just reacting, while all that was going on. And while we were all sitting down there, huddled in that cellar…I just kept thinking about how we could have gotten killed, sucked up into that tornado like the victim was."

Sweets shuddered, and Booth was dismayed to see it and the somber expression that was now on the therapist's face.

"Last night…I dreamed that it got us," Sweets said. "Got me. I was yanked into the swirling darkness…unable to breathe, or think…or get away…."

"Listen Sweets, so you were unnerved by that tornado," Booth replied. "So what? You're not one of those crazy storm chasers. You have the sense to be afraid of something that could kill you. That's not a bad thing. But even so, the fact that you were afraid was not what was important in that situation. What was important was that you acted quickly and decisively. You made sure that everyone is safe, and that's all that matters."

Sweets looked over at Booth, and when they stopped at a light, the agent made sure to look him in the eye.

"That is why I was eventually ok with you getting a gun and why you get to go into the field with me," Booth said. "Because I know that you have it in you to act as you need to, even when you are afraid."

Sweets' face lit up with a grin, and Booth could not help but smile in response.

"Thanks Booth," the therapist beamed.

"You're welcome," Booth said, turning his focus back on the road. "Aha, here we are. Time to eat."

The agent parked his car, and after they got out, Booth reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. After searching around for a few seconds, he pulled out a slip of paper.

"Hey Sweets, make sure that your order is somewhere between menu item number five and number fifteen," Booth told him. "Otherwise this coupon won't be valid."

"Wait a minute," Sweets said as he caught a glance at the coupon. "'Buy one, get one free'? That's what you meant when you said that you'd buy?"

"Hey, you're not paying for your meal, so what's the big deal?" Booth smirked. "Come on, I'm starving."

Sweets laughed and followed Booth inside, the two of them already starting to banter over the importance of semantics.