"Go on a date with me."

"What?!" Choked a rather flustered looking Sweets. The boy had been watching Agent Booth pace back and forth in front of his desk for the past 15 minutes. The sniper stormed in and slammed the door, declaring he had a major problem…or something.

He had refused to say anything, stopping any interjections from the doctor with a flick of his wrist, trying to sort out just how he was going to lay this thing out. And when all those cheesy movie scenes came flashing into his head, he cursed, realizing he never needed suave words before, the ones he wanted usually came to him.

He turned his head and stared intensely at Sweets, taking in his angelic features and his most beautiful asset, those lips. Those lips should have a warrant to be used in public. Or kept hidden away in an art collectors palace, someone who would really appreciate just how beautiful the doctor was, and keep him all to himself, and only let others see him when they try to master the exact features on a canvas so that his beauty will be treasured for years to come.

Oh god, thought Booth, I got it bad.

Finally, he sat down and stared calmly at Sweets, refusing to let him speak, enjoying how the tint in his cheeks grew darker by the minute. And then he finally got it, and puked out this brilliant line; "Go on a date with me."

Not a question, not a request, not a statement. A command. And honestly if he would've asked the answer would have probably been 'no'.

So, Sweets fought the urge to smile, leaned back in his chair, and tried to act calm. When really, on the inside, he was fuh-reaking out. He tried to remove the childish chant going on in his head, "He likes me, he likes me, he really, really likes me!"

And without a second thought, he nodded his head and said, "Okay."

Booth stared at him for a second, "Okay?"

Sweets nodded his head again, "Yeah, I'll go on a date with you."

A smug smile crept its way up Booths face, "Okay," He repeated walking out of Sweets' office.