Shrink

3

Sweets left after that, pursuing Doctor Brennan or something, but I remained stoically on Angela's couch until she returned, sighing heavily.
"Brennan's gone," she said nonchalantly, heaving herself into her chair. "Off to find more leads with Booth."
"Who's Booth?" I asked tentatively.
"A majorly hot FBI agent," she answered, typing out a bit on her computer.
I nodded, unsure of how to answer.
"Why is Sweets so nosy?" I asked suddenly.
Angela peered up from the screen, eyes slightly curious, before shutting it off.
"What do you mean?" she asked. "like, friend nosy, shrink nosy, or into you nosy?"
I shook my head. This place is unbelievable.
"All of the above, minus into me nosy," I sighed.
Angela raised an eyebrow, but forged on with the minimal details.
"He's a psychologist, what are you gonna do?" She shrugged to add to her point.
What am I gonna do?
___

The lab still buzzed quite a lot after doctor Brennan's departure, but had considerably gone down in action. As non-people-savvy as she was, she had an enormous presence in the lab. I assumed the fact was congruent with the outside as well.
The coffee machine on the balcony became my best friend, and I sipped the same cup of cold coffee once the machine ran out of grounds, perched on the looming balcony that overlooked the lab.
I imagined an existence akin to Doctor Brennan's for myself.
Successful writer, top of my field, happily married, and (perhaps not a fact for the faint of heart) elbow deep in crime and gore every day.
"You know there are coffee grounds in the break room," commented Sweets.
I startled, nearly sloshing the coffee off the balcony. Thankfully, it only reached my sleeves.
"Yes, I'm aware," I murmured, placing the mug down and attempting to scrub out the coffee with napkins.
"You know, I'd like to believe I'm a trustworthy person," he said suddenly, taking the chair opposite of the railing.
"Well, I'm sure you are?" I responded, huffing as the napkins began to disintegrate on my sleeves.
"Trust means one can make comfortable eye contact, without feeling vulnerable. You'd be able to look me in the eye right now, for example."
I clenched my teeth, squeezing the pulp of paper and coffee.
"You'd also be open to conversation, cause so far, my shrink vibes are picking up some hostility. Prime example, your body language."
Yes, I was hunched over, tearing apart napkins, but that was none of his business.
"Perhaps hostility is my response to snobs that think they know everything about everyone," I remarked, bristling.
What was his deal? Why couldn't he go diagnose Doctor Brennan or something? She was certainly enigmatic.
"I don't think, I know. I can get into anyone's mindset," he said, folding his long legs as he shifted.
"Well if you know so much about me, then stop questioning me!"
Sweets' face remained unchanged, and he nodded to himself. As if he knew I'd respond that way.
He opened his mouth to say something, when suddenly his phone began to ring. I hadn't realized I was so tense until I felt my nails piercing the seat cushion.
"Yeah...um, okay.. yep. But Booth"—
Sweets' face seemed to grow slightly childlike as he frowned at the voice on the other end. A petulant pout had replaced the professionally annoying game-face.
"Booth, there's only the new one here. I can't.." He sighed. "She's not— fine."
Sweets listened for a second, and I smirked. He'd been hung up on.
Stuffing his phone back into his coat, he groaned.
"Doctor Brennan needs assistance out in the field. There aren't any interns on hand, so suit up. We have to be out there in half an hour."
"We? Me?" I nearly choked.
"Yes, it's untimely," he filled in. "I'll tell Doctor Saroyan, and you can suit up."
He left. I stayed.
Oh shit.
Brennan didn't even know I was here! She didn't even know I had the job.
My lower lip was clamped between my teeth as I gauged the situation. Hope Doctor Brennan doesn't notice? Or beg for Sweets' mercy?
"Aw, hell," I sighed as I ran to catch up to the psychologist.
<—————<<
I didn't give Sweets enough time to even be mildly surprised as I quickly "suited up" in the blue field suit with the telltale DaVinci insignia on the patch.
"Just a couple days early," I muttered as I grabbed a field bag out of the equipment room. "a couple days early..."
"You know, pacing isn't gonna speed anything up," commented Sweets from the doorway as I struggled with the zipper of the suit.
"And creeping isn't going to solve anything either," I huffed. I threw my hands down in frustration. "Can you please help me? I think my hair is stuck."
Sweets sighed, clearly as frustrated as I was, as I turned to allow access to the zipper. His fingers cleared the hair that hung down my back, hanging it on my shoulder. I shivered as he grazed my neck.
He chuckled.
"Uncomfortable?"
"Hurry up please," I bit out.
He laughed again, a nearly instrumental exhalation that made the corners of my mouth instinctively perk.
My hair was untangled shortly, and the zipper was made short work of. Soon, I was trailing Sweets out the door to the parking lot, the swishing of my legs as the suit's fabric met the only noise besides the chirping of birds and the hum of traffic.
My mind had wandered as we traipsed out to the lot in the hot sun, about Doctor Brennan, about my unflinching fate, when suddenly Sweets had stopped by a silver sedan.
Wordlessly, he climbed in, and I took the front seat.
"You're awfully quiet," I commented as he put the key in the ignition.
He was about to answer, when the sudden blare of a saxophone filled the car. I leaped at the noise, bumping my head, as the doleful notes of a piano sweltered into existence in accompaniment.
"Geez, sorry, I didn't"— said Sweets, frantically turning a nob and quieting the jazz to a soft hum.
"No, no, it's okay," I groaned, feeling a goose egg form on my crown. "just a-a bump."
My hands shook as Sweets, blinking at me, unsure, began to drive.
"So jazz, huh?" I asked, tenderly prodding my head.
Sweets nodded as he tapped along on the steering wheel.
Tough crowd.
"How long till we get there?"
"Two hours."
And so, I felt my brain nearly turn to mush in a swelteringly hot car alongside Sweets and his jazz, as if two hours were the entire rest of my life to waste.