The muse hasn't hit me for a while, but while I was lounging earlier, enjoying the sun, this little fellow came to me. His name was Parker Booth and he was lugging this story with his own little version of a charm smile. How could I resist? That kid is CUTE. Hope you enjoy this look into the workings of Seeley Booth's precocious son and don't hesistate to let me know what you're thinking! Unless you totally hate it. My ego bruises easily. :) -Laura

The camera rolled and Parker sat stiffly in his red directors chair, giving the camera a serious once over. He tugged slightly at the sport jacket he had borrowed from his father's closet and pulled over his best church shirt. Clearing his throat, he gazed at the camera for a long minute, the way his father stared at him sometimes when he'd been a little uncooperative.

"To the left, Bones," he finally pronounced, motioning her to jostle the camcorder.

"Hey, what do you say, Buddy?"

Parker glanced over at the new voice, and saw his father leaning against the doorframe, idly stirring a bowl and taking in Parker's impressive new studio.

"Please, Bones," Parker corrected himself, flashing his dad's pretty girlfriend a winning smile. For some reason this made Bones shoot a glare at his dad, but Parker thought she might be joking.

"Don't you go teaching that charm smile to the younger generation," Brennan admonished to her partner, her heart stuttering somewhat begrudgingly in her chest when big Booth suddenly mirrored said smile.

"What smile?"

Parker had seen quite enough of this. He knew what came next. First, his dad and Bones fought, but not seriously. Then he smiled at her. Next thing he knew, his dad and Bones would be kissing. While he liked Bones a whole lot, it was still gross. He told them that every time, but they never listened. Someday, his dad would say, eyes still locked on Dr. Brennan, someday the thought of kissing a beautiful girl won't gross you out, Park.

Yeah, that would be the day. He'd love to stay and chat, but he had some serious work to do.

"Okay, thanks Bones, but out. Out, Dad."

Booth raised his eyebrows at his son. "Care to explain why you've commandeered my dinner jacket and my video recorder?"

Meeting his dad's direct gaze with his own determined look, Parker shook his head. "I don't know what that means. Press record on your way out, and leave my studio, please."

Parker missed the smile that quirked Brennan's lips as she hit the red record button and the shell shocked expression on his father's face when Brennan propelled him out the door.

"You are rubbing off way too much on my son, babe," Parker heard his dad's voice through the closed door, but it eventually grew muffled as they retreated back to the kitchen.

Parker let out a sigh of relief and cleared his throat again. Okay, now he could begin. Settling himself in his directors chair, Parker gave the camera another serious look.

"I'd like to begin, now," he said to the camera, nodding and crossing his legs as he leaned in. "This is top secret communication from the files of Parker James Booth, Secret Spy, Private Eye."

With that impressive introduction, Parker swiftly stood, grabbing his Nike duffel bag from its spot near his feet.

"The purpose of this message is to record my dangerous double life. It has been a hard year for me," Parker continued, giving the camera a sorrowful stare. "Firstly, there was the incident at recess. As you might know, Pike Fenway is a mean jastard."

Parker let out a gulp as the word left his mouth. His father would lock him in time out for days if he heard him using that kind of language. He had heard his father yell it on the phone once, when some things at work went badly and Bones had been away digging in Timbuktu or Australia or something for a while. 'That jastard!' his father had yelled, banging his fist on the wall of the kitchen. 'The son of a—' his dad had stopped then, because he had walked in, but Parker got the gist of the message.

"Anyway, you know how I feel about Pike Fenway. Well, the other day at recess I saw him giving Emma Greeblie a shove. And you know how I feel about Emma Greeblie. I walked right over there and told him to leave her alone. She was a lady! No man should ever, ever hurt a lady."

Parker paused, thinking about his feelings about Pike Fenway and Emma Greeblie.

"He stopped, though he tried to push me, too. Now Emma Greeblie won't stop trailing around after me. She loves me." Parker said the last part with a bit of a sigh. "She doesn't know that she's gross. You know, a girl. But she does have a good reading voice. I always pick her to read after me when we go aloud. You know, with the popcorn game. You read and read to the class until you don't want to anymore, then you say popcorn and call on someone else. I like to call on her. She does good voices. But anyway, she keeps following me, though. She doesn't know about my dangerous job. Doesn't know that we can't be together, even if I wanted to. Which I don't. Because seriously… that's gross."

He decided to go right ahead and spill the beans. "I'm a spy. I have been since my birthday." Parker raised his shoulders in the universal sign for "what can you do?" and reached into his duffel. "You know, my dad was in the Rangers. Now he catches bad guys with Bones. It's a pretty cool job, but not like mine." Parker pulled out a well-worn book from the cavernous depths of his gym bag. "See this? It's called Harriet the Spy. I got it for my birthday." Parker dug around some more and unearthed a variety of items. He laid them on the desk behind them and held them up one by one for the camera to see.

"This is my spy notebook," he said, pulling out a black and white marbled composition book. "It's for my notes on the job, but since spy tech is so updated since this book," he nodded with his head to Harriet the Spy, "I'll be really doing my reports on video, here in my office." Next, Parker picked up a small tape recorder.

"Now this came from my step dad, Brent. When I told him I was going to be a spy, he went and got me this. It records all sorts of sounds! And it's pretty much the best thing for any spy to have."

Parker pushed play on the recorder. A shuffling sound occurred before voices could be heard, muffled but still distinguishable.

"Oh, oh Seeley," Brennan's voice said, breathless and very unBoneslike.

"You like that, babe?" His dad sounded weird, too. Kind of low and growly.

"Don't call me babe—Oh!"

"So good, Bones, so… good, ahh!"

Parker snapped off the recorder and glanced back at the camera. "I got this recording at their door this morning before school. If you ask me, I think they might have been kissing in there." Pocketing the recorder, Parker moved on to the rest of his spy equipment.

Parker held up a mirror, pen, and a flashlight in succession, explaining their usefulness in crime solving.

His spiel done, Parker took his seat back in his chair.

"As you can see, this is all top secret. If anyone knew of my secret identity, bad things would happen. This will be the end of the first video communication. I have told you about my start in crime solving, my gear, and that jerk Pike Fenway. Farewell!"

Parker bowed dramatically before running to the camera and fiddling with it for a second to turn it off. As soon as the red light flicked off, Parker let out a huge sigh of relief, glad to be able to smile again. He shrugged out of his Dad's suitcoat and left it in a heap at the floor, tugging his button-up church shirt over his head. He had to hop a little to get the shirt off, but eventually he did, and Parker threw on his favorite FBI shirt instead.

He grabbed his notebook and a pen, inching open the door and sliding silently into the hall. Parker made no noise—he was like a lion, like Simba. Quick. Silent. King.

He followed the sounds of voices into the kitchen, crawling on his hands and knees as he peered out from the hall. Bones and his dad were in the kitchen, but their backs were to him. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Parker scuttled to the couch and hid behind its bulk. From this new vantage point, he could see into the kitchen if he peeked around the couch.

Bones was at the stove, stirring something in a pot when his dad threw a strawberry at her. She turned and threw it back, smiling and shaking her head at him.

"Hey, save some of those for tonight," she murmured, giving Booth a quick, hot grin.

Parker sure hoped they'd save some for tonight. He loved strawberries.

Parker's knee slid on the hardwood, and he caught himself with a quick slap of his hands to the floor, though he worried that his daddy might have heard him. His dad was quiet though, chopping things for dinner, so maybe they hadn't heard.

Parker thought about it and grinned. Of course they hadn't heard him. He was Parker James Booth, Secret Spy, Private Eye.

"So I'm thinking about moving to Australia," Booth said conversationally.

Brennan stopped stirring and Parker gasped.

Parker missed the wink and silent communication between his father and his partner.

"Also, I think it would be best if you and me kissed, Bones, all the time."

Parker had to hold back the gag that threatened him.

"All the time, Booth? Won't that be… gross?" Brennan asked.

Finally, a lady with sense. He always knew he liked Bones. He knew it.

"Of course it would be gross. But we should do it anyway," he dad continued.

Agh! His dad had lost his mind! And Australia? That was far, right? Like… at least five hours away. Maybe a few more.

How would he see his mom? Brent? Emma Greeblie? Who would protect Emma Greeblie?!

"And I think we should throw away this delicious mac and cheese and make some of that tofu you love, honey."

Parker's eyes grew wider and more horrified every second.

"And lets sell Parker's toys."

AGH! He couldn't take it anymore. Parker sprang up from behind the couch and burst into the kitchen.

"DADDY!!! NO! NO! DON'T SELL MY TOYS! DON'T MOVE AWAY TO AUSTRALIA. DON'T KISS BONES!"

Booth and Brennan stared at the hysterical boy, before Booth started laughing and Brennan hid a grin. "Oh Booth, that was mean. Come here, Park."

Parker headed toward Bones and let out a shuddering sob when she wrapped her arms around him in a hug. "We were just kidding, Parker. Your dad is not going anywhere. No tofu. We won't sell your toys."

"What about the kissing?" Parker asked suspiciously, removing his head from Bones' stomach to look up at her.

"No promises there, Bub," Booth smiled. "I like kissing Bones."

"Gross."

"I'm sorry we scared you, Park," Booth said, taking him from Bones' hug and lifting him up in his arms. Parker was a little too old, but his dad held him up just fine. Parker rested his smooth cheek against his dad's, feeling the stubble there scratch.

"It's okay. I guess I shouldn't be spying anyway."

"People like their privacy, Bub. A real gentleman doesn't listen when others don't know he's there. They could be discussing something private and we need to respect their wishes, okay?"

"Yeah. Okay."

Booth kissed his son's ruffled blonde hair and set him down. "Go wash your hands before dinner and we'll go get ice cream afterward, okay?"

Parker beamed, shouting with happiness as he bolted to the bathroom.

When he got there, after washing his hands, he snuck back into his room, wondering what he should do with his spy gear. He decided to haul it into the kitchen and get rid of some of it, but first he was dying to know the answer to his hunch. He grabbed the tape player and ran into the kitchen when Booth was setting down the big pan of macaroni and cheese.

"Daddy, I know I'm not spying anymore, but I just have to know one thing."

"Sure, Bub, what's that?"

Parker pressed play and a series of breathy gasps punctuated by a delicate "Booth!" and a growled "Bones!" played into the kitchen.

Parker stared at his dad, looking him straight in the eye.

"Now tell me the truth, Dad. Were you kissing in there?"