The session was not going well. Obviously, the stress of the latest case was taking its toll, especially on Booth, who was, as usual, voicing his objections to being psychoanalysed by someone who looked as if their mother still tucked them in at night.

"Jeez, Sweets," he groaned, running a hand through his hair tiredly and sitting back in his chair. "Remind me why we even have to be here. God knows I have a million other things I'd rather be doing..."

To his right, Brennan merely sighed; they had had this conversation countless times before, and Booth rarely got a direct answer to his question.

"I'm sure you do, Agent Booth, but the fact remains that--"

"The fact remains that what?" he challenged angrily. "C'mon, Sweets! Why are we here? We. Are. Fine," he said slowly, enunciating every word precisely, with venom.

"Booth, leave him alone; he's doing his job, just like we do ours. You've heard hundreds of suspects in questioning ask 'why am I here?', haven't you? This is exactly the same," Brennan muttered quietly, obviously exhausted and wanting nothing more than for the whole thing to be over with as quickly as possible.

"Thank you, Dr Brennan," said Sweets quickly, looking relieved.

"See, Booth? Stop... punching up such a fuss!" she exclaimed.

"Kicking, Bones, kicking up such a fuss! And I'm--" began Booth, only to be interrupted by Sweets seconds later.

"No, no! Booth's question is perfectly valid," he insisted.

"See, Bones? 'Perfectly valid'!"

Brennan rolled her eyes and crossed her arms tightly across her chest, waiting impatiently for Sweets to continue. It always annoyed her how Booth flicked his respect for Sweets on and off as if by switch, wherever and whenever it worked to his advantage.

"It's normal for Booth to feel that this is a waste of his time, or for him to feel resentful of me and my profession because of the things it makes him face up to. Actually, it's his... views on your psychological status that are slightly erroneous," he explained.

"'Erroneous'? So, you think we're not fine?" she questioned, uncrossing her arms and leaning forwards. The eager gleam in her eyes suggested that she was waiting for Sweets to say something that she could jump on and pull apart with facts, that she could dissect with cold, hard evidence.

"Do you think you're fine, Dr Brennan?" he asked, sounding genuinely interested to hear her answer. Booth looked at her expectantly, and she was taken aback that he thought she could possibly say anything but that they were functioning perfectly as partners.

"Yes. Yes, I do," she clarified.

Sweets sighed. He sat up straighter, resting both elbows on the desk and steepling his fingers.

"Well, then you're wrong," he stated bluntly. Booth made as if to object, while Brennan merely looked offended at the abrupt rebuttal of her assessment, but he cut them both off. "You are far from fine. In fact, I believe the scientific term is 'completely screwed up'. You are both completely screwed up, as are all your... squinty friends. I mean, seriously; what've we got? We've got Booth, the ex-sniper who constantly tries to right his 'wrongs' by ridding the world of all he perceives as evil. Then there's you, Dr Brennan. Where do I even start?" he joked lightly. "You're practically a psychologist's dream come true."

"I resent the implication that I'm a psychological 'textbook' example!" she complained loudly. "When was the last time you came across someone in my mental and emotional situation?"

"Well, exactly. Your parents deserted you at the age of fifteen, only for them to re-enter your lives fifteen years later, one of them dead and the other a murderer, not to mention your brother, the felon. Oh, and then there's the whole thing with your best friends all working together to get your father the death sentence for murdering the deputy director of the FBI, which I won't even go into... still think you're fine, Dr Brennan?" he asked sarcastically.

"I can compartmentalize!" she almost yelled, rising from her chair. Seeing that Sweets was not finished with his scathing analysis of Brennan and the squint squad, Booth gently pulled her back down into her chair.

"Unless you want to have mommy holding a bag of frozen peas to your head all night to take the swelling off the massive bruise she's gonna give you in a minute, I'd stop provoking her," Booth advised him.

Sweets heeded his warning and swiftly moved on to the next victim of his biting truthfulness, but not before noticing Booth's hand still resting protectively on Brennan's arm. As he watched surreptitiously, her own hand moved to lay on top of his. It struck him that this was quite possibly one of the only ways in which they weren't perfectly matched; her skin was pale white next to his tanned hand, and the hand itself was comparatively tiny. He was still marvelling at the enormous size of Booth's hands when Booth coughed and pointedly removed the offending extremity.

"I believe you were telling us about how 'completely screwed up' us and all our friends are," remarked Brennan lightly, bringing her own hand back to rest harmlessly in her lap.

"Umm, yeah. Well, you have Zach. C'mon, you can't tell me Zach's not completely screwed up; the guy's in a mental institution," he pointed out.

"Okay, first off, Zach is not one of our 'squinty friends'," objected Booth.

"Zach will always be my squinty friend," argued Brennan, throwing Booth a dirty look and turning angrily to Sweets.

"Oh, you mean no matter how many random men he kills?" he asked innocently.

"He didn't-- that lobbyist wasn't random!" she spluttered, feeling the innate need to protect her protege at all costs.

"Premeditation!" exclaimed Booth. "Even better!"

"The plot thickens," commented Sweets mysteriously.

"I'm-- I'm not even getting into this argument," insisted Brennan, dropping back down into her chair and pulling a sour face. Booth tried unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh.

"Bones," he whispered conspiratorially. "Bones!"

"What?" she snapped, pointedly avoiding making eye contact with either of the two men.

"Look over there," he demanded, pointing vaguely in a random direction. She complied, swivelling her head towards the window and trying her best to ignore the mischievous glint in Booth's eye.

"Bad choice," he chuckled, seizing the opportunity to jump out of his chair and launch himself at her, wrestling her playfully to the ground and tickling her mercilessly as Sweets looked on with amusement. Brennan squealed loudly, whether with delight or horror he wasn't quite sure, but he wasn't about to intervene. Especially when he could see a head bobbing along the corridor towards the office through the frosted glass pane of the door.

On the carpeted floor in front of his desk, Brennan had somehow managed to manoeuvre herself into position on top of Booth and was in the process of exacting revenge, giggling with delight the whole time. Sweets suspected he was letting her. Just as Booth finally threw her off and rolled back on top of her for better tickling access, the door cracked open and Cam poked her head into the room.

"Booth, Brennan, they need you up in-- oh. O-okay, then," she laughed, opening the door fully and stepping into the office, quickly taking in the scene before her.

"Hi, Cam," said Brennan cheerfully from beneath Booth, who promptly coughed and rolled off her, embarrassed. Sweets stepped out from behind his desk to help him up, while Cam bent to heave Brennan to her feet.

Silence filled the room as the four of them regarded each other awkwardly. That was, until Brennan burst into hysterical laughter, closely followed by Cam and Sweets, and eventually persuading even Booth to see the funny side of the situation.

"Let me guess: that was one of your 'team building exercises', right?"

Hey. :) I really enjoy getting your feedback, so reviews are love. Faves without reviews aren't, but are still somewhat appreciated... ^^

I know things quickly went from one mood to another with no real explanation, and that's because this was originally meant to be a moody, angsty oneshot about Cam and her unmentioned past that I got bored with halfway through, so I decided to turn it into some minor B/B fluffiness to make up for all the weirdly dark stuff before the tickling. I know, crazy explanation, but... review? As always, flames will be used to toast marshmallows!