A/N : Thanks for feedback! Season 9 - after Big in the Phillipines, but before The High in the Low.

I don't own Bones, if I did, this would not be in canon.

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The text came in:

Wendall: Done will b outside

Booth grabbed some file folders and keys and headed to the oncology outpatient unit of Washington General. 10 minutes later he pulled up to the curb and Wendall threw his bag in the SUV and climbed in. He looked pale and tired but that was normal these days.

"Hey man, thanks for picking me up, and letting me crash at your place this weekend. I really appreciate it."

"Not a problem, but just so you know, I'm a little pissed at you." Booth replied.

"Seriously? Don't cancer patients get any breaks? Seems a little harsh."

"Yea, well, YOUR MOM called me."

"I know. I'm sorry, I can't believe she did that. But, you know, my younger sister won that cruise and she and mom had been looking forward to it for months, my older brother has to work this weekend, and my older sister's kids are cycling through the chicken pox and ..."

Booth held up his hand. "I got the whole story from your mom. You were seriously considering going to couch surf at your crazy cat lady cousin Mildred's rather than call Bones and me? We shouldn't have been that far down your list of options."

"Oh." Wendall looked sheepish. "Well, it's just that, you know, this weekend won't be fun for anyone in my vicinity. I really hated to bother you guys."

"Wendall, you know when Bones said we'd do anything to help you, she meant it. Bones doesn't say stuff she doesn't mean. And I owe you big time for all the hours you came and helped me with Christine's tree house and preserved my sanity while they were gone. This weekend and any other time you need us is NOT a bother. Just get that out of your head right now." He let that sink in for a bit and then continued "It's just going to be us guys this weekend. Bones is on a publicity hop in New England and Max took Christine down to visit Russ, Amy and the girls. So, we can watch sports, not shave and I can watch you puke. It will be like being back in college only I won't have a hangover on Monday."

In spite of himself, Wendall smiled. Leave it to Booth to be blunt. He was still uneasy about the next couple of days. This was his third cycle of chemo and if ran like the last 2 he had about 4 hours before it would all hit and then he'd be miserable till Tuesday. He was actually a little grateful that Dr. B was out of town - it's one thing to puke in front of your friends, it's another thing to do it in front of your supervisor.

They pulled up to the Mighty Hut, grabbed their stuff and headed in. Wendall headed towards Parker's room to drop his stuff and send a couple of texts, while Booth changed out of his suit. Wendall headed down to the kitchen and found Booth rummaging through the fridge. He tossed Wendall a Gatorade as he walked in.

"So, I got the list of stuff your mom said was helpful - Gatorade, ginger ale, pudding, popsicles, crackers. There's antibacterial wipes and soap here, in your room and in the bathrooms. Anything you don't see that you want, just ask. I'm going to check in with your mom after she picks you up on Monday and if I find out that you didn't want to bother me, I'll come kick your ass. And I'm a trained in interrogation so she doesn't stand a chance holding out on me. Got it?" Booth finished and gave him the "don't-f-with-me-I'm-an-FBI-agent-and-retired-sniper-and-I-have-a-gun" glare.

"Got it." Wendall barely resisted the urge to salute.

"Good. I'm hungry. Don't know whether it's better for you to have something in your stomach when the nausea hits or not. I've been a bachelor for 2 days, so there's leftover Thai, leftover pizza, or Sid sent some chicken wonton soup over."

Wendall grabbed the soup and started to re-heat it, while Booth munched on cold pizza. After snacking, they headed upstairs to the man cave.

It had been a few weeks since Wendall had been in there. The stadium seats were still there, pushed along the wall, but in place of Booth's old couch there were 2 very new looking recliners. On one side of one of the chairs was a stack of blankets and a trash can. On the other a basket of Gatorade and bottled water. A table next to it held tissues and face wipes and the remote. "Wow, this place has been upgraded. The chairs look pretty cushy."

"They are. Bones got tired of me wrecking my back on the couch, so, she went shopping. The remote's all yours, I don't care which sport we watch as long as it's not soccer".

Wendall started flipping through the channels. It took a while because one of the advantages of having more established friends is that they could afford more than basic cable. The March Madness tournament was just beginning, so they had their choice of college basketball games. The chair was very comfortable and Wendall soon felt himself drift off. Booth looked over when he heard Wendall snoring, reached for the remote and turned the volume down and grabbed his paerwork. He figured Wendall could use all the sleep he could get.

A few hours later, right on schedule, the nausea hit. Wendall woke with a start and barely had time to grab the trash can before losing the soup. Booth didn't say a word, just waited till he finished, handed him a fresh can, took his empty Gatorade bottle and the full trash can and left to deal with it. When he returned he put a bowl with a warm wash cloth in it on the table.

Wendall wiped his face. "Thanks, man, I'm really sorry. "

Booth glared at him. "New rule. Unless you're acting like an ass, stop apologizing. As a veteran of frequent hospital stays, I can most likely win any embarrassing bodily fluids story contest hands down. I also have 2 kids and look at decomposing bodies for a living, so a little puke doesn't phase me. "

The intern had to smile at that. "Okay, I'll bite. What's your most embarrassing vomit story?"

"One of my first cases as an agent had a congressman as the leading suspect in his campaign manager's murder. The press was having a field day trying and convicting him. I found the real killer-a disgruntled ex lover, but got myself a concussion, knife wound and 12 stitches during the apprehension. Took hours to get through all the FBI debriefs and tests and I hadn't eaten all day. They brought in some food about a half hour before the congressman, his wife, and very attractive 26 year old daughter wanted a thank you meeting. As the daughter was flirting with me, the combo of headache, pain meds and antibiotics kicked in and I lost my dinner all over both the ladies very expensive designer shoes. With the Deputy Director of the FBI in attendance and a photographer capturing it in full color. Other agents heard about it, tracked down the photographer and got him to make 100 copies of the most graphic photo. They popped up around me for months afterwards."

Wendall laughed. "Yep, you won that round."

The next several hours fell into a predictable routine. Wendall would get sick, Booth would restock the supplies. Between rounds, they watched basketball and Wendall would doze. Finally close to midnight, Wendall said "I think I want to try and go to bed. I'll be okay till morning I think, you should get some sleep."

Wendall stood up, swayed a bit. Booth grabbed his arm to steady him and led him down the hall to Parker's room. After depositing Wendall on the edge of the bed, Booth left and returned with fluids and trash cans. "Need anything else for the night?" Wendall shook his head "Get some sleep, but if you need something just yell ok?" Wendall gave him a week thumbs up.

Booth headed to his room and spent a little extra time praying that night.

Saturday morning, Booth woke first, seeing the door to Parker's room ajar, he peeked in. Wendall was sleeping soundly and Booth was grateful for that. He headed downstairs.

It was late morning when Wendall finally came down.

"How are you doing this morning?" Booth asked.

"Tired mostly. Of course, I've kinda run out of things to throw up, so we'll see how it goes."

"Anything sound good to eat, do you want some coffee? I can make another pot."

"I'll try some pudding and a Gatorade. Based on previous experience, coffee doesn't do well. Which is too bad because, I really love the smell of it, even if I can't drink it. It's comforting."

He was trying to open the Gatorade bottle without success. He cursed under his breath. "Damnit. They warned me this could happen. My fingers are numb. Damnit, Damnit, Damnit!" He banged the bottle on the counter in frustration.

Booth grabbed the bottle and twisted off the cap and handed it to the intern. "Is the finger numbness temporary?"

"Most likely yes. It should go away in a couple of days, probably come back with the next round." He sighed. "Guess I just made a big deal out of nothing."

"Nope. When you can't do the little things, it has a way of making you crazy."

"That sounds like the voice of experience. So, any words of wisdom in how to stop the crazy?"

"Curse at inanimate objects." Booth said solemnly.

"I think I just did that. It didn't help."

Booth shook his head. "Nah, you REALLY have to cuss at them, use creative vocabulary. Damnit doesn't cut it."

Wendall looked at the agent skeptically.

"Army hospital. I wake up at some point, really thirsty - cotton mouthed, dry as the desert thirsty. Someone has pushed the table with the cup on it about an inch farther than I can reach easily. Can't find the damn call button. Don't have the voice to wake up my roommate. I manage to touch the cup and I knock it over. Turns out it was empty anyway. I am mad as hell. Finally a volunteer comes in, sees the problem and gives me some water. I get my voice back and start swearing a blue streak before I really take a look at her - when I run out of breath, I look up and see that she could be part of my grandmother's knitting group and I've just cussed her out six ways till Sunday. I mumble an apology to her and she gives me a glare worthy of Ms. Julian and walks out. "

"The next day she comes in with an ugly bulldog figurine. Says that she has 4 sons and 6 grandsons and none of them are allowed to swear in her presence and she isn't going to take it from me either. However, the bulldog handles abuse just fine. She leaves it on the table and heads out. I spent the next half hour thinking of every vulgar phrase I had ever heard and whispering it to that damn dog. Next time she came in, we had a polite chat. By the time I was discharged she was bringing me cookies, and until she moved to Florida I'd swing by and say hi when I was in the area. I never cussed around her again, but man that bulldog got an earful."

The intern shook his head in disbelief. Then, seeing the appeal of the approach, he stared at one of Christine's stuffed animals and mentally cussed it out.

Booth watched the younger man and could almost hear the expletives. He put on a fresh pot of coffee. As the aroma filled the kitchen he saw Wendall sniff appreciatively.