Title: Surreality
Rating: Teen
Disclaimer: Fox, et al owns Bones. I'm just borrowing the characters for a little enjoyment.
Beta: Thanks to my wonderful friend SeattleCSIFan for the quick beta. It's really appreciated.
Spoilers: Through Season 4


"I'm really confused."

Silence ensued after Booth's statement, as the agent sat morosely on the couch. Cam would've just told him to stop pouting, but not Sweets. Instead, the psychologist asked, "Can you clarify for me, Agent Booth? Maybe explain what you are finding so confusing?"

No, I don't wanna, Booth thought. Why do I have to keep explaining?

He might've remained absolutely silent had Bones not laid her hand on his knee and ducked her head to his level. So Booth couldn't just ignore what he'd said and sink into the floor.

"Booth?" she asked, her voice low and husky. "You don't have to answer."

He had no doubt she was probably shooting daggers at Sweets. Unfortunately, he was finding it hard to meet either's gaze at the moment. It just bugged him that his boss, FBI Deputy Director Sam Cullen, required a sign-off by the in-house shrink before being allowed back on the job. Sure, he'd had brain surgery, Booth mused, but it didn't mean he'd lost his mind.

Sighing in resignation, he looked gave Bones a small smile and said, "It's not like I have a choice. And Sweets picks up when I'm feeding him a line." Smiling a little wider, he lowered his voice for her only and conspiratorially whispered, "Most of the time."

At her light chuckle, he leaned back into the couch and turned his head to Sweets. "Sometimes I get confused between what I remember from the surgery and what I remember from real life."

"I imagine that must be a little surreal, considering you created a whole new reality in your mind," Sweets said, his voice sweetly friendly and commiserating. Booth really hated that tone. Even though he bit his tongue, it didn't stop him from frowning.

"Look, I know what's real and what's not," Booth said. "It's the emotions and expectations that are getting to me." Like the desire to bed his partner.

Feeling the tension crawl like a vise up his neck, Booth raised his hand when Sweets opened his mouth to speak. "Look, Sweets. I really appreciate it, but I want to change the subject."

The defunct agent found it funny that ever since he'd ended up in the hospital, the brilliant young psychologist had been treating him with kid gloves. Maybe he should've developed a brain tumor sooner.

"Then why don't we work on your partnership a little?" Sweets asked, although it wasn't really a question and Booth knew it. The kid had an annoying habit of doing that – asking a question, when it wasn't a question but a demand. Then he'd expect Booth and Bones to jump on his whim.

When neither of the partners answered, Sweets finally said, "Let's try a little word association."

Laughing, Booth said, "The last time we did that we ended up Bones wanting to… you know."

"Have a baby," Bones said. He didn't have to look to know she was rolling her eyes.

Wincing a little, Booth answered, "Yeah. And wanting my…" Okay, he still couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Your sperm. I requested your sperm. Which, I must say, performed better than even I could have expected," she stated. Was that a hint of pride in her voice?

"Well, let's see what happens now," Sweets stated. "Booth, why don't you start?"

Blowing out a breath, he said, "Work."


"Friends," Booth said.

"That's what you think of?" Bones asked, smiling.

"Well, yeah. We're friends, aren't we?" he asked, glad to see the smile bloom on her face. It had been awhile since he'd really seen that expression – lately, she'd been so pensive and distracted. Primarily because of him.

"Of course, we're friends," she briskly stated. Playful concentration moved on her face and she said, "The lab."

"Night club," Booth replied, and then sighed at his own words. "I mean, workplace."

"That's good, Booth," Sweets said. But before he could get anything else out, Bones interrupted.

"Book," Bones interjected, staring at him intently.

"Kathy," Booth shot back.

"Andy," she retorted.

"I want to have sex with you," Booth replied. Now where the hell had that come from?

"You want to have sex with me?"

"Oh God, yes," he breathed, earnestly.

Maybe he wasn't ready to go back into the field after all, because that filter between his brain and his mouth wasn't working so hot. Ever since that dream, when he'd inhaled her lush scent, and tasted the very feminine mouth, he'd been having little fantasies. Sometimes with the Brennan that ran the night club, but more and more frequently with his Bones.

Then she squeezed his knee again, bringing him back to reality. Darting a glance at Sweets, he noted the young psychologist's face had taken on the look of a fish – a gape-mouthed O forming half his features, while his eyes bulged.

It was her response, though, that nearly did him in. Cringing in anticipation of something embarrassing, he watched her features, expecting her to offer to dress in those sexy stilettos and a lab coat.

He really hadn't expected her to smile or see her face flush pink.

Maybe the FBI better keep his gun locked up.

Because he never saw it coming when she just said, "Okay."