Title: Couch Time
Chapter: Villagers and Chi
Summary: Set in season 5 of Bones, just as they return to working cases together. Sweets calls the pair in for a reassessment.
Booth did a general parameter sweep on his way through the obviously empty waiting area. It was an occupational hazard of sorts, upon entering any unknown situation, to remain keenly aware. He had to be able to act on his impulse, and truth be told he never felt much like he was fully in his element in that space. It was easier to wade into when Dr. Brennan and he met and were allowed time in the waiting room together before seeing Dr. Sweets. It had been inevitable that day, as he had to ferry his kid home from his soccer practice, and it was always hard for him to say goodbye to Parker when he was leaving him at his son's mother's house. He hated the process swapping parental responsibility. He wanted to be responsible for Parker all the time. He supposed all parents felt that way, but that knowledge didn't make it any easier in practice. All it did was make him later for his session with the FBI psychologist.
They had clearly begun without him, and it was not going well, if the raised voices he heard as he approached the office door were any indication. Curiosity fought with a heightened sense of urgency, and the desire to rush to his partner's aid won out.
"What is going on in here?" he asked in a demanding fashion as he swiftly entered the room and stood next to Bones, as she sat with her arms crossed over her chest and an expression of extreme annoyance on her otherwise beautiful features.
"Nothing," Dr. Sweets said, almost as if he truly believed the perceived altercation were of no importance.
"Then why were you yelling at Bones?" Booth demanded again, pushing one edge of his jacket to the side, flashing his sidearm out of ingrained habit. Intimidation was a method he was comfortable with, for the sheer fact that it worked. That he was also good at it was simply a bonus.
"Are you allowed to wear that when you're off-duty?" Sweets asked, having taken notice of his little gesture.
"I'm never off-duty. I'm FBI, it's not like I can punch in and out on a time clock. And when my partner is involved," he led.
"It's fine, Booth. You don't need to shoot Sweets on my account," Brennan said matter-of-factly.
Booth looked down at her with a furtive judgment. "Are you sure?"
"I'm your mental health professional. A declaration that you intend to shoot me would be troubling to say the least," Lance declared, not enjoying the private moment his two subjects were sharing.
"If I were going to shoot you, Sweets, I would have done it by now," Booth said with a shake of his head as he sat down next to Brennan.
"If you meant that to be in some way comforting, you failed," Sweets informed him.
"It did sound quite menacing," Brennan said gently to Booth. "Is everything okay with Parker?"
Booth glanced from Bones to Sweets. "Yeah. Parker's fine. I just heard you two yelling at each other from the waiting room. What gives?"
Brennan narrowed her eyes at Sweets. "He started the yelling."
Sweet's mouth dropped open slightly. "I did not! I was just arguing my point, and perhaps I got a little too passionate."
"It was misplaced passion," she said mightily. "He implied yet again that psychology was just as relevant a field of study as anthropology in regard to understanding a group of people, which is hardly the case. Psychology is a brand-new field of study, scientifically speaking, whereas anthropology has been a reliable method of studying cultures over a long period of time. Accurately, I might add. We don't need different areas of thought in our field, because our scientists make actual breakthroughs that can be backed up with real data."
"Our research methods are just as quantifiable as yours are! All my research was subjected to peer review and replicated for confirmation," he defended himself and his profession. "You're just upset that I was correct in my assessment of the suburban mentality, and my pinpointing was so specific that you had to agree with it. That's what's really bothering you."
Bones wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Your insights, if you want to call them that, were based off of anthropological ideas, which were obviously borrowed and relabeled by one of your predecessors for their convenience."
"You have got to be kidding me. People in psychology have breakthroughs and insights every day. Just because they might be similar to findings in other branches of science, it doesn't make them less valuable, as we're applying it to the individual mind as opposed to other facets of the human experience."
"Except that it's not a breakthrough or an insight if it's already been discovered," Brennan argued sensibly.
"Why do you always feel the need to prove that your work is more important than mine?" Sweets inquired, trying to take another angle.
"I don't need to prove it," she said haughtily.
"So, you two didn't need me here at all for this one, I take it?" Booth asked.
"Don't you think he's masking his need for validity by equating our professions?" Brennan asked.
"That's called projecting," Sweets corrected.
Bones held out her hand toward Sweets, as if proving her point. "See? He's doing it again."
"I would agree with you, Bones, if I had any idea what the hell you just said," Booth shook his head.
That sentiment seemed to satisfy her enough that she dropped her hand. Sweets took a deep breath and attempted to collect his thoughts as he went over his case notes.
"So, now that Booth is here, let's get on with this assessment," Sweets said begrudgingly. "You mentioned that you were having an issue with Parker and him viewing you as having a healthy sex life. Were you able to get that resolved? Is that why you were late?"
"Does he want to know if you were late because you were having sex?" Bones asked, slightly confused at the implication.
Booth cleared his throat. He found of late that he didn't want to think about how long it had been since he'd last had sex. It had been longer than his usual dry spell. He would blame his medical trauma, if outright forced to admit just how long it had been. He certainly wouldn't bring up his feelings for his partner, at least, not in front of her. He had tried to envision what her end of that conversation would look like and he was yet to figure out how that would go. Until he thought it would go his way, he was going to steer clear of that whole discussion. And, if his activities of late were any indication, he'd be spending a lot more time in the shooting gallery until then.
"I was late because I was dropping Parker off at his mom's. He and I talked about why he thought I needed to have sex, in a completely age-appropriate way," he explained.
"I helped," Brennan boasted proudly.
Sweets again opened his mouth slightly, surprised at the information. "You two broached the subject of sex with Parker, together as a unit?"
"Booth asked if I would spend time with him and Parker, to show him that Booth in fact is comfortable spending time with women," Brennan supplied.
"You make it sound like I'm secretly gay," Booth said, shaking his head slightly.
"Are you?" Sweets asked.
"I would like to remind you at this point that I am still wearing my sidearm. And it's not the only way in which I could hurt you," Booth warned.
"Why did you choose Dr. Brennan to be your feminine archetype for your son?" Sweets inquired.
"My what?" Booth asked, feeling the headache behind his eyes start to build.
"It's like a female role model," Bones offered.
"I didn't ask her to be the kid's mom, he has one of those."
"Yes, but you and Parker's mom no longer have a romantic relationship. In his eyes, your ability to relate to his mom on an emotional level, outside of interactions with him, has been severed," Sweets pointed out.
Booth felt guilt wash over him. "So?"
"So, I find it interesting that you chose Dr. Brennan to step in and help you provide a united front on the subject of sex to your son."
"All I did was offer him use of my pool," Brennan jumped into the conversation, no doubt to save Booth, who felt as though he were drowning in the deeper meanings being bandied about the room.
"Your pool?" Sweets asked Dr. Brennan.
"In my building, I have a pool. That's why Parker wanted Booth to have sex; he was hoping that the woman he chose to copulate with would want to get married and move to a house with a pool, like his friend's father did. He couldn't actually care less if Booth was enjoying a healthy sex life," Brennan said easily.
"Are you enjoying a healthy sex life?" Sweets asked, his brow furrowing just slightly as he turned his questioning back to Booth.
"Are you?" Booth deflected.
"Actually, my sex life is quite satisfying. Daisy and I are very active in that regard," Sweets smiled in a pleased way, as if he were imagining the satisfaction at that very moment. "She's actually quite a tiger in the bedroom."
"I'd prefer not to speak about Ms. Wick or your sexual pairing," Brennan declared.
"He asked. You were the one that pointed out that Booth doesn't enjoy giving out information without a give and take approach. I gave, now it's his turn."
Both pairs of eyes turned back to Booth. "My sex life is just fine, okay?"
"When was the last time you had sex?" Sweets pressed.
"How is that at all relevant to my job performance?" Booth combatted.
"Well, actually, in a variety of ways. It can affect your job performance if you're not relieving enough stress and pressure in other areas of our life. Sexual frustration is a very powerful component that is often overlooked," Sweets began.
"I'm not sexually frustrated!" Booth declared, and loudly. So loudly that he startled even himself.
"You seem quite frustrated," Sweets volleyed back.
"I am. Just not in a sexual way. I'm frustrated in a very real, want to connect my fist with your face kind of way."
"Physical aggression can be one manifestation of sexual frustration," Sweets nodded, making a note in his ledger.
"I hardly think Booth would act out in such a manner. Even if he hasn't had a suitable sexual partner in a while, neither have I. I would assume he relieves his own urges, in quite the same way I do," Bones informed Sweets.
"Bones. Don't," Booth said with a shake of his head as he squeezed his eyes shut. Not only would thinking about her touching herself not help his own sexual frustration, but Sweets' head would either implode or pontificate to the point of no return.
"What? Self-pleasure is a very efficient means of fulfilling one's sexual needs. It's completely natural, Booth."
Booth grimaced and chanced a glance to Sweets, who from the look on his face seemed to be leaning toward the imploding head scenario.
"Can I make an observation here?" Sweets asked finally, after a brief clearing of his throat.
"I really wish you wouldn't," Booth muttered under his breath.
"As long as it isn't in reference to equating psychology with anthropology," Brennan said with all honesty.
"The two of you seem to bring up the topic of sex a lot."
Booth closed his eyes, whereas Brennan simply frowned before responding. "I don't think that's true. We discuss a wide variety of topics. Perhaps we speak with more candor than other co-workers, but that's all."
"Are you going to deny it as well?" Sweets asked Booth.
"I will only say I speak very sparingly about sex. I feel that some things are meant to remain private."
Sweets eyed one of them and then the other, seeming to make some sort of decision about their relationship given their responses. He gave another sigh.
"You do realize that sex is often a motivation for murder, don't you? Look at all the possible suspects we had in this case, based on their sexual escapades alone," Brennan did her best to rationalize what might be too honest dialogue between her and her partner.
"True. Sex is a very good motive for murder. But the two of you often take the contextual references to sex and personalize them, thus giving each other some sort of glimpse into your own sex lives."
"That sounds like he's saying we're flirting," Booth said, leaning in to Bones in a conspiratorial manner.
She held a hand up and spoke to Booth behind it, an attempt to block them from Sweet's vision. "It's the conversational equivalent to flashing each other."
"That's crazy. We're professionals. We operate within parameters that are determined by our circumstances and the government," Booth argued.
"The same could be said for all your murder suspects in the cul-de-sac," Sweets said passionately, though this time he moderated the volume of his voice.
"Those people were freaks," Booth exclaimed.
"Those people were behaving in rather natural ways, given their close proximity. When people live closely in communities like that, they often find themselves developing connections beyond simply being neighborly. They can see into each other's windows, and over time they welcome them into their homes. These people aren't just offering each other cups of sugar and waving when they pass on the street," Sweets explained.
"And that's just wrong," Booth said with disgust.
"It's a type of forced voyeurism, which often times leads to deeper types of attachment, which can, obviously, delve into psychotic behavior."
"It was like a giant soap opera," Booth simplified.
"You watch soap operas?" Brennan asked, curious.
"No. I mean, I've seen them, in passing. You know, when you're home alone sick, and all there is to do is watch bad television in the day time—soap operas and game shows."
"That's ridiculous. What you should be doing when you're sick is taking in extra fluids and resting. Watching television can disrupt your sleep patterns and raise your blood pressure," Brennan said, not scolding him, but genuinely attempting to correct his misguided behavior.
"Come on, Bones. Everyone watches television when they're sick. What else is there to do?"
"I engage in meditation to lower the load on my cardiovascular system and encourage a better flow of chi."
"Chi?" Booth asked.
"It's what the Chinese call the life force. They believe that all illness and disease are due to disruptions in chi."
Booth furrowed his brow at his partner. "Right," he said, turning to Sweets. "Anything else, Sweets?"
"I am curious how Dr. Brennan feels about the deception Mr. Vaziri was engaged in."
"Is this about the accent thing?" Booth asked, only slightly interested.
"Yes. I noticed quite some time ago that he was using an incorrect accent based on his reported place of origin, but it never interfered with his work, so I never mentioned it," Bones said with a shrug.
"The rest of the lab seemed to take it with quite a bit of shock," Sweets said with concern.
"It's my understanding that they engaged in a forced question and answer session with Mr. Vaziri, and he sufficiently answered all their questions," Bones told him.
"But you don't find it at all odd? Faking an accent, and essentially, a background, it's not exactly trust-building," Booth garnered.
"Perhaps, but the simple fact is that it has no bearing on his work. He does excellent work, and I have no fault with him. It is less grating, now that I'm not constantly aware of him using an incorrect dialect, I guess."
"You're amazing, Bones," Booth said with no small amount of sarcasm.
"Thank you," she smiled, taking only a compliment.
"Do you want to elaborate?" Sweets asked, enjoying the disconnect playing out before him.
"Not really," Booth said with nary a second thought.
"It hardly needs explanation. He clearly thinks I'm superior for not being bothered by such insignificant details," Bones offered.
"Is that what you meant?" Sweets asked.
"I think that sometimes her hyper-rational thought causes her to miss certain nuances," Booth said diplomatically.
"On the contrary, I'm quite observant," she argued, realizing that they were no longer discussing her strong qualities.
"About details and inanimate objects, yes. You are very observant," Booth agreed.
"But you find my attention lacking in some other way?" she demanded.
Sweets said nothing, choosing to sit back and let things unfold. They so rarely came this close to the precipice of what he knew they needed to discuss on their own. They were so easily spooked; he found it best to just let them go.
"I know you're working on it, Bones. I know it doesn't come easily to you," he conceded before actually elaborating on his meaning.
She stiffened slightly. "You mean my interpersonal relationships."
Booth shrugged in acquiescence. "Cam and Angela, they have a harder time separating their personal lives with their work lives."
"Are you referring to the fact that they've both slept with colleagues?" she asked, somewhat unsure.
Booth flushed, having been on the receiving end of that attention. "No, though, I suppose that is a valid point as well. They connect with people on deeper levels than you do. They are there to work, first and foremost, but we all spend a lot of time working together. We're more than colleagues. And when one of us suddenly isn't what they appeared to be, it's jolting. Emotionally speaking," he explained in the simplest terms possible for her.
"Oh. I suppose that makes sense," she nodded in appreciation.
"That's it? That's all it takes for you to understand the concept?" Sweets asked.
Brennan nodded. "I often find it helpful to view issues through Booth's eyes. When I hear his rationality, or try to foresee what his reaction to a social situation would be, it makes it much easier to respond accordingly."
"That's fascinating," Sweets remarked.
"It's not that fascinating," Booth said, not one to encourage Sweets when he was making implications about the pair.
"Even the two of you have to admit that it shows a deeper connection, if she is literally using you as a mirror and measuring stick to her own emotional reactions," Sweets said emphatically.
Booth and Brennan shared a long moment of sustained eye contact. Booth could feel his own emotions bubbling up to a point that he was concerned they would burst out of him without forethought. As much as he felt she wasn't ready for such an outburst on his part, he certainly didn't want to make an expression of passion to her in front of Sweets of all people.
"Personally I find it's much preferable than constantly irritating those around me without my knowledge or intent," Bones said finally.
"And it is imperative, that she be able to read my emotions. We enter into dangerous situations all the time, and if we aren't in tune, it could be disastrous," Booth built off her deflection.
"And that's all it is? The only reason the two of you engage in a personal interaction is solely for the sake of your work?" Sweets asked, totally incredulous.
"I think that our working relationship is something we both hold in high regard," Bones nodded in agreement.
Sweets, past the point of passion or frustration, grasped onto one negating factor. "Then why on earth would you give Booth a key and permission to use your pool just to make his kid happy?"
Dr. Brennan eyed Booth. He reluctantly met her eyes and waited for the answer himself. It had been a gesture that had surprised him. Not that he didn't know she was generous. He knew that she wasn't as cold as most people assumed her to be. She had a huge heart, though a well-guarded heart. The few people that she allowed into her life were lucky enough to see past the smart, rational exterior and get the whole picture of the woman he was sharing that couch with.
"It felt like the right thing to do," she said simply, though with a backwash of emotion.
"And it's not something I'll let Parker take advantage of," Booth said quickly.
"The two of you give me heartburn. I'm a young, healthy guy, but after our sessions, I have a bottle of antacids I keep in my desk drawer now, like an old man. You're killing me."
"You might want to see a medical doctor for that," Bones offered helpfully.
"Listen to her. She went to medical school," Booth pointed to Bones with a smirk sent Sweets' way. He was glad he wasn't the only one that was physically uncomfortable due to these sessions.
"Is that some sort of dig at the validity of my Ph.D.?" Sweets asked hesitantly.
"He's very suspicious," Bones said behind her hand, again solely to Booth.
"Some might say paranoid," Booth agreed behind their little shield.
"All right, very funny. Get out," Sweets said, brushing his hand into the air, signifying they should exit via the door.
"Our session is over?" Bones asked hopefully.
"Yes. My stomach hurts and you two are starting to do that thing you do where you have private conversations in front of people that you seem to think can't hear you. It's annoying," Sweets said, clearly in some form of unease.
"Maybe it's just your chi, all out of whack," Booth supplied.
"Get out, now," Sweets said, now growing cross.
"I'd say you don't need to tell us twice, but seeing as you already have," Bones said as she stood up.
"Does beer help chi?" Booth asked, standing up to open the door for her.
"Beer does provide plasma with protection from oxidation stress, which encourages a balance in the ability to detoxify and recover from damage, so I would feel secure in saying it's quite possibly helpful to one's chi."
"See, now I might not understand any of the words you used, but I do know one thing," Booth said as he shut the door to the office behind him.
"What's that?" she asked with a smile.
"You've got my back, Bones."
"Always, Booth."
He smiled and gestured to the exit. "Let's go get some beer and chi."