Okay, so I was bored. And this had come to my mind earlier, but I never had time to actually write it. This is just for fun, so enjoy!

Disclaimer: As sad as it makes me, the show isn't mine.

000000000000000000000 It was a nice summer day and the cast of Bones was out and about fulfilling their duties as fan fiction characters. But, the cast of Hart Hanson's hit show had compiled a list of questions that they desperately wanted answered by the writers of the fiction.

"Why am I constantly getting knocked up by Booth?" Temperance Brennan wondered.

"Why am I always having secret sexual fantasies about Bones?" Special Agent Seeley Booth questioned.

"Why am I always saying 'Sweetie'?" Angela Montenegro wanted to know

"Why am constantly drunk?" Jack Hodgins inquired

"Why am I never written about?" Zach Addy pondered. There was a brief silence, and the whole gang looked at Cam, who was also there.

"Uh, Cam?" Booth started, "Aren't you going to ask a question?"

"Well, I would. But, I already know the answer to the one question that goes through my mind."

'What's that?"

"I sometimes wonder why I'm never written about too, but the writers at kind of hate me, so that's probably why," Cam finished.

Brennan nodded her head in agreement. "You really shouldn't have tried to come between Booth and me. I mean, we're like a super non-couple.

"Well, in my defense I didn't know my actions would have so many repercussions. Seriously, when I first joined up with your guys, I was supposed to die."

"Really?" Zach asked.

"Oh yeah. I was supposed to come on the show, screw around with Booth, and then get poisoned. That was the plan. Then, people would forget about how much they hated me, because I would be dead."

"Man, I like that storyline better," Angela said

"Join the club."

"Well, there's nothing we can do about that now," said Booth, changing the subject "but what we can do is figure out why we're written, or not written in Zach's case, into so many weird situations."

"How can we do that?" Angela asked.

'Well, that's easy. We ask the writers," Brennan said.

"But how are we supposed to find them?"

"Ah, you're forgetting something. On this show, we don't have to have any real logic based on what we want. So, if we require a list of the addresses for the fan fiction writers, we just go to our handy little computer and print one out."

"Whatever," Angela said

"Here. I've got the list of authors" Brennan said seconds later.

"Bu... How? We... What? Brennan?" Angela stuttered. "Actually, you know what. Screw it, you'll just give me some long-ass answer with big words that I don't know."

"Suit your self," Brennan said. "Moving on, Angela and I will go get the first half of these lucky little authors, and Booth and Hodgins can get the second."

"Bones, some of these people live half way across the world!" exclaimed Booth. "How are we supposed to get to them?"

"Silly Seeley" the anthropologist said, "I believe you're forgetting that on this show, it doesn't matter how far away anyone is. If you just believe you can get there, you will"

"I'll keep that in mind," Booth said, going to get his coat. "So, we'll meet back here in what, an hour?

"Sounds good" Brennan said. And with that Angela, Brennan, Booth, and Jack left, leaving Cam and Zach alone in a big empty lab.

"So, Zacharoni. Wanna get stoned?"

--

In exactly an hour's time, Angela, Brennan, Booth, and Jack came back. With them they brought various writers from . They assembled into the Lecture Hall, which had coincidently just been built, at the Jeffersonian and began to talk.

"Writers. We have asked you here today to ask a couple of questions." Booth started.

"Asked?" one writer said incredulously, "We were not asked. We were forced. I specifically remember being told that if I didn't come to this thing my cat would get shot."

'Booth!" Brennan hissed, "You threatened your half of authors? What the hell?"

"Sorry! You didn't exactly say I what I could and couldn't do. And I only did it to that one person," Booth stated, hoping to change the subject.

Brennan stood up and asked the writers how many of them were asked by to come by Booth. Half of them raised their hand. She then asked how many of them we're threatened with a gun to come to the Jeffersonian. All of the hands remained up.

"Why do you even bother lying to me?" Brennan asked, rolling her eyes.

"Can we just get on with this thing?" Booth asked, avoiding her question.

"Fine," an annoyed Brennan replied.

"Okay. First question. Why am I, Temperance Brennan, always getting knocked up by him?" She pointed a finger at the handsome FBI agent, who waved at the crowd and worked his Charm Smile.

"Oh, that's an easy one," a writer replied, "Because you guys are really good together."

"Just because we're good together doesn't mean we both want kids," Brennan retorted.

"Yeah, and besides, in those fics where Brennan is bearing my child, she's always really pissy. Like, seriously pissy."

Brennan glared.

"And besides," the writer continued, ignoring Booth's comment, "You're kind of the only people we can write about having kids."

"Oh, now that's just not true!" Angela cut in.

"Yeah, if you've been paying attention to the part of the show that doesn't have to do with Brennan and Booth, you would realize that Angela and I are together and are totally a good couple to write about having a family," Hodgins said.

One writer in the back was stupid enough to ask, "You and Angela are going out?"

"Booth, could I borrow your gun?" Hodgins asked.

"Sure thing, Buddy" Booth said, getting out his gun and handing it to the curly haired bug man.

"Thanks." Hodgins then pointed it to the writer in the back, and shot.

"Uh, Hodgy, you shot the wrong one," Angela pointed out.

"Seriously?" Hodgins questioned. He looked out to see the writer he wanted to shoot laughing hysterically, "Crap" he said. "Let's try this again."

"There you go," Angela said

"Nice aim," Booth commented.

"Um, hello?" Brennan said, "Can we get on with this?"

"Yeah!" one writer yelled out "I've got a science test tomorrow! I should really be studying."

"Sorry. We'll try to go as fast as we can," Brennan said. "Back to the original question, why is Booth always getting me pregnant?" A writer raised her hand, "Yes, you in the green shirt," Brennan said.

The writer in green said, "Well, I think it's because you and Booth have so much chemistry together. And plus, if you two popped out a kid, it would be super cute."

"Yeah, super cute! Cuter than any baby that Hodgins and Angela could create," one writer in the middle yelled out.

"Booth. Gun." Hodgins demanded. And with that, another unsuspecting writer was shot.

"Okay, next question." Booth began, "Why am I constantly having sexual fantasies about Bones. I mean, come on. She's a hottie, but it's not like she's all I think about. I have a son you know."

"You think I'm hot?" a flattered Brennan asked.

Booth blushed, "Well, you know you're structured well..."

He was cut off by a very loud cough, which came from an annoyed writer, "Hello. Some of us have lives. You said this shin-dig wouldn't take too long."

"Yes, well sorry. Okay, so can someone answer the nice agent's question so we can get on?" Angela asked.

"Well, here's the thing. On the show, we see how you look at Bones," a writer said.

"Yeah, you look like you just want to, like, jump on her." another writer continued.

"That's true, Booth. You do tend to have that libidinous look in you're eye a lot when you're with me," Brennan agreed.

"No lie there," Angela muttered.

"I do not."

"Do to."

"Do not."

"Do to."

"HELLO! Science test that I REALLY need to study for!" an extremely irritated writer interjected.

"Sorry."

"Okay, writers. I guess I understand why you guys feel it important to write sexual scenes for Bones and me. And, I'm not saying stop, trust me, I'm not. There is nothing better then a great sexual scene where I can feel..." he stopped, realizing what he was saying." All I'm asking is that instead of just having us flat out mount each other because we're all alone, I don't know, maybe you could like, have us go out on a date or something."

"But, why? Dating scenes are boorring. Come on Booth, you should know that. I mean, you KNOW how that whole date with Hodgins and Angela went," a writer replied

"Oh. My God. Do all of these writers have like, a flippin' death wish?" Hodgins asked

"Here" Booth said, handing Hodgins his gun.

"Thanks man, I owe you one," Hodgins replied, getting ready to shoot.

"Anyways." the FBI agent continued, ignoring the fact that yet another writer just got shot, "Can I just get some sort of word that at least one of you writers will give Bones and me some dating adventures?"

"Sure, I'll write some crappy-ass fic about you two living happily ever after all mushy, that everyone will hate."

"Thank you," Booth said politely.

"Okay, next question!" Angela shouted out to the hall, "Why am I always saying sweetie?"

An author raised her hand.

"Yes, you in the back," Angela said.

"Um, I think you're written about saying 'sweetie' all the time cuz in the show you say it. A lot."

"Too much, actually. It gets annoying after a while," a writer in red shouted out.

Angela apparently did not like that comment, because seconds after it had been said, Angela snatched the gun out of her husbands' hands and fired away.

"Dude, that's hot," Hodgins said.

"Yeah?"

"Totally" Hodgins said leaning in to kiss her.

"Oh dear God, I think I'm going to be sick if I have to watch this," one writer said a little to loudly.

Angela and Hodgins looked at each other. Took the gun, and shot the poor writer.

"This day is turning out to be really good," Angela said, smiling.

"Ange, did you get your question answered?" Brennan asked.

"Ummm... sure."

"Final question, and then you guys can go home and do whatever it is you do," Hodgins began. "Why am I always drunk?"

Silence.

"Come on guys, answer! You answered everyone else's question!" a frustrated Hodgins whined.

Silence.

"Fine, you know what? Screw it. I don't want to know anyways," a defeated Hodgins said.

"So, can we go home now?" a writer asked.

"Yeah, go ahead." Booth said.

When all of the writers had gone home, the four looked around the lecture hall.

"Shit!" Booth said, realizing something.

"What?" Brennan asked.

"Well, look at all the bodies," Booth said, pointing to the bodies of the fanfic writers, 'they were ALL shot using my gun, you know what that means, right?"

Brennan shook her head.

"I have to do paperwork," Booth whined.

"Dude, that sucks," Hodgins said.

"So, what should we do with all the bodies?"

"Eh, just leave them, the janitors can get them." Brennan said.

"Cool," Angela replied. 000000000000000

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Oh, and just so you know, I have nothing against the fics where Booth has secret fantasies, and where Brennan is bearing Booth's child, and I love when Hodgy is drunk. The only one that irritates me a little is the Sweetie one. I can't stand it when Angela says sweetie. It's just a pet peeve.