daily-dose-of-sweets

[daily-dose-of-sweets]

Sweets’ Scars

Based on S4E21

Lance Sweets X Reader

Summary: You and Sweets have been in a relationship for a year now, but it isn’t until a case involving a certain metal band that you realize there might be something he’s not telling you. Something about his past. You don’t want to press, but you can’t help but worry.

Words: 3331

Warnings: Scars, and very short mention of abuse

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As soon as you step foot into the venue, the blaring metal music floods in around you. You wince and quickly cover your ears to dull the screaming voices and screeching guitars. The music reverberates through your ribcage, pounding and ragged. Why do people listen to this kind of stuff? You can barely make out the mass of moving bodies ahead of you because of the flashing lights and flickering fires that practically blind you. It’s all so much, too much. You’ve never liked crowds, but this is a whole different level, and the urge to escape grips your chest.

You jump when a hand rests against your shoulder and you whip around only to see Doctor Brennan peering at you worriedly. “We won’t be here long,” she assures you, though she has to scream for you to hear her.

You nod, eyes darting back to the crowd of people, all covered in leather and heavy makeup. The two of you stick out like sore thumbs in your normal clothes, which was never something you thought would be possible. You huddle closer to your mentor, swallowing your nerves and twisting your fingers into your sweater.

“I’m going to call Booth!” She shouts out again.

You don’t respond this time, not that it really matters in the situation. You doubt you could get loud enough to overcome the noise.

Why did you have to come on this excursion? Why couldn’t Clark come? He was your senior after all. You had just recently started working at the Jeffersonian, and you were currently the youngest intern on the team. You figured it would be a calm job, just working with your people and maybe a few witnesses every once and a while. This...This was not what you were thinking of.

“I’m disturbed that despite my extensive training as an anthropologist, all these bands sound alike and appear to share identical belief systems and morals.” You hear Doctor Brennan shouting into her phone, to who is most likely Booth. She pauses, listening to his response before speaking up again, “I have no idea what you’re saying.”

You bite your lip nervously, eyes scanning the dark crowd again before landing on the stage, where the band ‘Zorch’ was performing. That’s why you were there, to question them about the remains.

“Are you guys ready?”

You shy away when a man comes into your space, pressing a hand to your back. With wide eyes, you look to Doctor Brennan, begging silently for help. She stares at the man with her brow furrowed, and then recognition floods her eyes.

“Sweets?”

What? You look back up at the man’s painted face, eyes narrowing as you take in his features. Then it hits you, just as quickly as it hit the anthropologist. It is Sweets! You couldn’t recognize him with the makeup and slicked back hair.

“Wait, is that really you?” You question, stepping closer to him. He casts a look down at you, lips pulling into a small smile that makes your heart stutter.

“Yeah, I had to meld to get information. What do you think?” Sweets holds his arms up, looking mighty pleased with his metal getup.

Your eyes slowly trace over his figure, and you can’t help but notice how well his sleeveless black shirt fits him, or how it shows off his arms. Heat comes rushing to your face, turning your cheeks rosy. Thank goodness the venue is so poorly lit, or else he’d probably notice. Your eyes lingers on the choker strapped around his neck. Part of you wants to grab the ring on it and drag him close for a kiss, which only serves to darken your blush.

“You look good,” you manage to squeak out before quickly turning to Doctor Brennan, completely missing the small smirk that replaces Sweet’s smile (he definitely noticed your flushed face).

“What information have you gathered?” The anthropologist asks him, completely oblivious to how flustered you just grew.

“Zorch’s lead singer is Murderbreath,” Sweets begins, gesturing to the stage just as the man blows out a puff of fire, “Look at that. Who does he think he is, the guy with the tongue from KISS?”

You laugh at the jest. You used to listen to that band, back in your rebellious teen phase that everyone goes through.

Sweets explains how the feud of the two bands has progressed, though your eyes stay focused on the band, looking for anything that might help with the case somehow. That when you notice the lead singer pull out a large knife, thrusting into the air for all to see and drawing chants from the crowd.

“Guys, he has a knife,” you worry aloud to your colleagues.

Sweets gently draws you closer to him in a somewhat subconscious way, “No, don’t worry, it’s totally fake.”

A shudder passes through you when the singer drags the blade along his throat, blood immediately dripping down his painted skin. He thrusts the crimson knife back into the air victoriously, before gripping his neck with his other hand. Blood seeps out from between his fingers, coating his gloves. You gasp when the man convulses and drops to his knees, fingers still wrapped around his throat.

“That’s...not fake,” Bones murmurs, “Murderbreath slit his own throat!”

Before you have time to even process what’s happening, you’re dashing forward, easily weaving through the throngs of fans. The screeching music fades into the background, overcome by the pounding of your pulse in your ears. The flashing lights blur together and all you can focus on is the man crumpled on the ground. The people part around you as you jump onto the stage, quickly followed by Doctor Brennan and Sweets.

You dive down next to the singer, pressing two fingers to his pulsepoint and covering his hand with your own.

“We need something to stop the bleeding,” you urge, panic swelling in your chest.

Brennan looks around quickly, “A compress, we need a compress!” Her eyes lock on Sweets before she darts up, ripping his shirt right off of him despite his complaints.

She drops back down, pressing the wadded fabric to the man’s neck. It’s only then that the music comes to a halting stop. The band goes silent, glancing between each other and towards their lead. You shake your head, lips pursed in irritation. Now they take it seriously.

“Hold this against the wound,” Brennan directs Lance before shouting into her phone, “Booth, can you call it in?” You assume his answer isn’t what she wants, because she shuts the phone with an irritated huff and begins dialing a new number.

Glancing around, you feel anger rise to replace your panic when you see how many people have their phones out to film the spectacle. Without hesitation, you jump up in front of the group, shoving some people back and blocking their cameras. Who, in their right mind, would record something like this?

“Stand back, please!” you cry out, taking a step back as the crowd pushes forward in retaliation, “Please! Get back, we need space to work! Move back!” Do these people have no respect? Or just basic decency?!

You take a glance back at your colleagues to check on what’s happening, but your eyes land on something that knocks the very breath from your lungs. Your chest tightens painfully at the sight of the scars running along Lance’s shoulders. The dancing lights glaze over them, catching on the raised skin like little criss-crossing lightning bolts. A burning sensation fills your throat, spreading to your eyes, but you blink rapidly, determined to not let it get the best of you right now. There are more important things to focus on! You turn back to the crowd, arms spread wide to keep the stage clear.

Soon enough, paramedics and police come rushing into the venue. Everything else comes as a blur. The sirens, the gurney, rushing out to the ambulance, it all swirls together in your mind like a chaotic storm. It leaves you dizzy when things calm down and Murderbreath is on his way to the hospital. You, Sweets, and Doctor Brennan are left standing outside the venue, and it’s then you notice Sweets is still shirtless.

“We need to get you a coat before you catch a cold,” you murmur worriedly, trying your hardest to shove the images of his scarred shoulders out of your mind.

“I have one in my car,” he tells you with that familiar gentle smile, but now it carries a different weight to it. Is that just you, though? Could you be overthinking this all?

You let out a heavy sigh and aggressively rub at your eyes as Sweets walks away. Why hadn’t he told you about it? You could guess the cause, not many wounds left marks like those, plus, in your field of work you are exposed to all kinds of scars. Did he not want you to know? Why wouldn’t he want you to know?

“Are you okay?”

You look over to Doctor Brennan, the heavy weight in your chest growing almost impossible as you blurt out, “Lance has scars on his back.”

“Scars? What kind of scars?” She peers at you with that perplexed expression of hers.

“Almost like he’d been…” You pause and flex your fingers to keep your nails from digging into your palms, “Like he’d been whipped. They were old.”

“Has he not talked to you about it before?”

“No, do you think that means something?”

She tilts her head, almost like a dog, not that you’d ever say that out loud, “I am not sure what you mean.”

“Well, I mean, we’ve been dating for a year now, don’t you think, I don’t know, don’t you think he would have told me something like that?” You bite down harshly on your lip, “Does he not trust me with his past?”

“It is best to not assume what Sweets might be thinking,” Doctor Brennan murmurs in that ever present, logical tone.

It’s not much, but it’s enough to placate you a little. She’s right after all. You have to gather the evidence before making any inferences. It’s possible Lance just wants to forget whatever happened to him, which you can understand. Horrible things are sometimes best left in the past. Taking a deep breath, you roll your shoulders and give your hands a good shake.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yep!” You squeak and turn back around to face Lance, who at some point snuck up behind you, “Peachy! Just fine! Is everything- Is everything okay with you? Not cold anymore?”

“I’m warming up,” he replies with a lecherous grin, “Though I could use some help.”

You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks when Sweets spreads his arms wide for a hug. The slight twinge of self consciousness doesn’t stop you from tucking in close though, fingers linking together at the small of his back.

He rests his chin on top of your head gently, “Is everything really okay?”

Of course he’d notice. You weren’t being the most subtle you guess.

“I’ll tell you about it later, okay?” You promise quietly and hide your face in his coat.

“Okay.”

“I suppose we should head back now. Booth will want to question Murderbreath if he’s well enough,” Brennan calls out to you as she heads to her car, “Will you be driving back with Sweets, (Y/n)?”

“Sure! If he’s okay with it!” You turn your eyes up to him questioningly.

“Of course.”

And just like the gentleman he is, Lance takes you back to the lab, leaving you with the promise to talk after work. You do your job with as much attention as usual, but in the back of your head, you can’t stop thinking about how on earth you're going to broach the subject.

How do you ask someone about something you probably weren’t meant to see? You know he probably won’t get angry, Lance has always been patient and oh so sweet (his name really did fit him). You just don’t want to cross any boundaries. Should you wait? Should you ask Booth about it first? No, no that’s a terrible idea, he would just get all awkward. You groan and set down the tibia you're currently looking at. It’s all so frustrating!

You’ll just have to do it. Lance always says communication is the most important part of any relationship. Even if you don’t know how to start it, you're sure he’ll know how to direct the conversation!

With that in mind, you wrap up quickly and wish Doctor Saroyan goodbye as you head out of the lab. Lance is waiting just outside for you, leaning back against his car’s hood. All the makeup from before has been cleaned off and his hair is back to its normal fluffiness.

“Well hello there handsome,” you chirp, leaning up to peck to his cheek, “Good to see you back to normal.”

Lance laughs softly, “Was it really that bad?”

You purse your lips for a second, glancing away when you think back to his outfit. The makeup was a bit much, but the rest of it…

“Oh, maybe not, huh?”

Oh gosh, are you blushing again? You quickly bury your face in his chest, which is rumbling with his laughter. How embarrassing! Could your face go just a minute without lighting up today? It felt like every second, there was something that made your cheeks flush. It’s a wonder how you haven’t just turned into a tomato yet.

“Shut up,” is all you end up grumbling, “Will you take me home now?”

“Sure.” He gives you a small squeeze, “Hop in.”

You practically dive into the passenger seat to avoid anymore discussion of your embarrassment. Knowing Lance, he’d use this to tease you for quite a while. You just hope he’ll go easy on you, especially around your colleagues. You’d probably die if he brought this up around Doctor Brennan or Doctor Saroyan. Or even Hodgins, because goodness knows how he’d make fun of you for the rest of time.

During the drive back to your apartment, Lance intertwines his fingers with yours and rests them in his lap, thumb tracing over your knuckles. It’s enough to calm the jitters vibrating in your chest. It’s like the embarrassment and anxiety over your upcoming conversation have swirled together in a chaotic rush.

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you now?” Lance breaks the silence of the car, though he keeps his voice soft.

You take a deep breath. Everything in your head has led up to this, you can do it.

“I...I saw the scars...on your back…”

His hand stiffens in yours, not much, but just enough for you to notice.

Things fall quiet for a few seconds. You watch Lance’s face nervously. His eyebrows synch down just the slightest bit and his lips press into a thin line. You can practically see him thinking the whole thing out in his head. The gears turning, the conflict, the small flash of pain. It makes your heart ache.

“We don’t have to talk about it, Lance,” you reassure him softly, “It’s okay.”

Those honey orbs glance at you before locking back on the road. You really wish you weren’t in the car right now, so that he didn’t have to split his focus like this. Whatever this is, it can’t be a light topic.

“I’m okay,” Lance finally says, “It’s okay. This is something I’ve worked through, we can, we can talk about it.”

Good, that’s good. You weren’t going to push it if he didn’t want to talk about it, but it lifts the weight in your chest to know he’s open to it.

“Can we wait until we get to your place though?”

“Of course, of course!”

You settle back into your seat, though your hand stays firmly in Sweets’. It’s a comfort to you both. The rest of the drive goes by fast, thankfully, and before you know it, you’re right outside your apartment building. Even as you walk up to your place, Lance trailing behind you, your fingers stay linked.

“Want anything to drink?” You ask as you toss your jacket on a hook and slip off your shoes.

“No, I’m fine,” he mumbles and slips into the living space.

You pace about your small kitchen in an attempt to keep yourself busy, but find nothing to do, so you slip onto the couch next to the psychologist. You sit close enough for your knee to brush his, but hopefully not close enough to crowd him.

Lance scratches the back of his neck with a sigh and starts, “So, you know how I grew up in the foster system for a bit?”

“We’ve talked about it, yeah.”

“Well,” his voice comes out a little shaky so he pauses. You scoot closer to rest a hand on his knee, to ground him. His hand covers yours and he sends you a grateful smile before starting again, “Well, when I was young, I ended up in a bad foster home, and um, and the foster dad-” another heavy pause, “-he would beat me.”

Your heart absolutely sinks at those words, at how meek he sounds now, compared to your usually self-assured, outspoken boyfriend. How could this happen to someone like him? Someone so wonderful and gentle, someone who does everything he can to help others? No wonder he never told you about it.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Lance,” you murmur in a gentle tone.

He draws his shoulders back a bit with a deep breath. It’s like he’s letting the weight slowly slip from them as he leans back into the couch. You watch his face as it subtly shifts through several emotions, someone bad, some good, some just thoughtful. Eventually, he raises an arm, a silent signal for you, to which you curl into his side. His fingers trace along your arm before settling on your elbow and giving it a small squeeze.

“Don’t be sorry. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I didn’t go through that,” he reminisces, voice still quiet, “I might not have joined the FBI, might not have...met you.”

You look up at him, touched yet worried at the same time.

“I might not have had the best childhood, but I’m living a good life now. If I can stop it from happening to someone else, then it’s all been worth it,” he says, the brightest, most genuine smile lighting up his lips.

The awe that hits you almost sucks the breath from your lungs. You can’t help but just sit there and stare up at Sweets adoringly. It’s like his heart is made of pure gold, something that can’t be touched or soiled by the hardships of his past. He’s your greatest treasure, holding more value to you than anything you could ever hold, touch, even be near. He’s...absolutely amazing.

“I love you, Lance.” You can’t help it when the words slip off your tongue.

Those eyes are once again set on you, swimming with unbridled content, peace. They sweep you away into their depths, and all you can do is to wrap your arms around him to keep yourself anchored. He pulls you close, lips pressing oh so softly against your forehead.

“I love you too, (Y/n).”

*Bonus*

“You want me to wear it again?”

“Maybe…”

“Really?” His tone comes out teasing, eyebrow perched high as he gazes down at you.

“You’re so mean,” you huff, not even bothering to hide your blush this time.

Lance only laughs and bows down to press his lips to yours briefly, though it’s enough to set your heart racing.

“I’ll go change now, if you’d like,” he hums, throwing you a little wink as he steps out of the room.

“Jerk,” you grumble under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

I hope you enjoyed this story! It was a tad longer than usual, but it’s something I’ve been wanting to write for a while! This is one of my favorite episodes :)

As always, if you have any requests, don’t be afraid to ask! I’ll write for Sweets, Aubrey, and most of the interns! Love y’all!

[daily-dose-of-sweets]

Hello!! We have not interacted in while!! But I love you and I check your blog religiously!!<3 can I request some more lance sweets fluff? Or angst/fluff? Honestly whatever you’re willing to write I’ll be giddy to read. Ty! I love you so much!! I hope you’re doing well!!<3<3

@doctorsteeb

Hi!!! Just let me say I absolutely adore you and it makes me so happy to know someone likes my writing this much! I will totally try and write anything you request! I’ve got a few stories in the works for Sweets now, but here is a little late Christmas story for you! 

Christmas Greetings

Lance Sweets X Reader

Summary: After a year of being in a relationship with Sweets, you’re finally getting the chance to meet his family, or the people at the Jeffersonian in other words. Oh, and it’s at a Christmas party, for some holiday cheer this season.

Words: 2573

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“Are you sure they’ll like me?” You ask nervously, fingers shifting against the porcelain crockpot in your hands.

Sweets slips an arm around your waist and gives your side a gentle squeeze, “Trust me, they’ll love you.”

You take a deep breath and nod. It doesn’t really ease the nerves buzzing in your chest, but at least he is right there beside you. You and Lance had been in a relationship for a full year now, and you had yet to meet his colleagues somehow. It already feels like you know them though, from all the stories he’s told you, especially his partner Booth, and his wife Doctor Brennan. You’ve wanted to meet them for so long (which lead to quite consistent pestering on your part) but now that you’re finally standing here, your stomach is tying itself in a knot.

Christmas dinner is a huge deal, after all, and so are first impressions. What if they don’t like you? You weren’t in the science profession, so what will you even talk about? Sometimes you struggle to even understand some of the things Lance talks about, so how are you going to talk to the country’s foremost anthropologist?!

“Stop worrying, everything will be okay.”

You jump when you feel Sweets press a soft kiss to your forehead. His touch lingers, sending a soothing warmth flooding through you, finally easing the tension in your shoulders. Your eyes flutter closed as you lean into him, head resting against his shoulder for just a moment. When the two of you draw away, you tilt your chin up and let a smile capture your lips.

“Okay, I’m ready!”

Sweets chuckles and raps his knuckles against the door. Moments later, it swings wide open, letting the glow from inside cascade over you.

“Sweets!” You’re greeted by a man that towers over you, making you slightly shy away, but Lance keeps a steady hand pressed against the small of your back. The man gives your partner a side hug, clapping him on the back before turning to you with a wide smile, “And you must be (Y/n)! We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh really?” You glance over at Lance, who’s looking down with a bashful smile. His cheeks are glowing the softest rose color, which sends your heart thrumming. How can he be so cute?

“Is that Sweets and (Y/n)?” A woman comes rushing up behind the man. She offers you a sweet smile, just as vibrant as his.

Their excitement is so infectious, it fills you to the brim with a fresh energy, and now your own smile is wholly genuine. You weren’t expecting such a warm welcome! Why were you so worried about all of it, these people seem so wonderful.

“(Y/n), this is Booth, my partner at the FBI, and Doctor Brennan, the lead anthropologist at the Jeffersonian,” Sweets introduces you.

The woman, Doctor Brennan, is quick to shake your hand and say, “Please, call me Temperance, and come in. We are almost ready to eat, we have ham, and I also made a tofurkey.”

“Really?!” You gasp excitedly, darting in to follow her to the kitchen and leaving Sweets at the door, “I’ve been looking for a good seasonal tofu recipe for years! Could I possibly, maybe get it from you after dinner?”

You plop down your contribution to the meal and fall into an excited conversation with the scientist. You had no clue she was a vegetarian like you, and it’s not every day you get to talk to another! Sweets and Booth watch the two of you from the entrance, both sporting fond glints in their eyes.

“Thanks for inviting us, Booth,” Sweets hums as he shucks off his winter jacket, “(Y/n)’s been eager to meet the team, especially you and Doctor Brennan.”

The older man shrugs, though he has a pleased smile on his face, “Anytime Sweets! Bones will take any chance to make her ‘meat substitutes’. Remember how excited she got when you told her about it?”

Sweets nods, it is always memorable when Doctor Brennan shows such strong emotions, which wasn’t always often around him. He had even gotten the chance to help her plan the dinner, not that you knew about that. It filled him with warmth to watch you excitedly flutter around the kitchen, and to see how your eyes practically sparkled as you helped the anthropologist set up the dishes.

“You really love her, huh?”

A sigh escapes Sweets as he nods again, “I do. She’s amazing…”

Booth can’t help but feel a small swell of pride in his chest. He’d never admit it, but Sweets was like a little brother to him, and seeing the young psychologist so happy just put a cherry on top of the night he was having.

“Lance!” Sweets looks up at you, a wide grin spreading across his face when he sees you aggressively gesturing him over, all the while bouncing on the balls of your feet, “Come here! You have to check this out!!”

You know it must seem childish to some, but you can’t help but get thrilled over a good meal, especially when it’s vegetarian. You can’t wait for the day that you can make Christmas dinner for your family, spending the whole day cooking and then just being able to enjoy a nice night and some Christmas carols. Sweets would be right there beside you, and maybe a kid or two across the table. A boy and a girl…

“What is it?”

You jump, a fierce blush splashing across your cheeks when you whip around and come face to face with Lance. He’s standing so close, your noses are practically brushing. Your breath catches in your chest, and you spin back around, hoping he doesn’t notice just how red you’ve gotten. Stupid daydreaming, you totally forgot you called him over.

“Mrs. Temperance has this amazing recipe fo-” Your voice breaks when Sweets presses in close behind you, arms snaking around your waist. You clear your throat nervously, “-for um, for vegetarian casserole. She says it’s really good, so I was thinking I could, I could try making it sometimes!”

“That sounds wonderful,” Sweets hums, the words vibrating through his chest and against your back.

It feels like your entire face is on fire now, to the point where you feel like you need to call the fire department. There was more you were going to say, but it’s like all your thoughts have been put in a mixer and are now scattered throughout your mind.

“Stop torturing the poor girl, Sweets,” a smooth voice scolds from a few feet away.

You glance up to see a beautiful brunette with tanned skin, and right beside her stands a slightly shorter man with some of the curliest hair you’ve ever seen. You swat at Lance’s hands and twist away from his grip, embarrassment flaring deep in your chest. Nothing you could say would help the situation, so you just wave at them weakly.

“Angela, Hodgins, this is (Y/n),” Sweets says as he pulls you back to his side with a cheeky grin, “(Y/n), this is Angela Montenegro, our forensic artist. And this is Jack Hodgins, our entomologist.”

“And botanist, mineralogist, palynologist, chemist, among other things,” Hodgins continues with a casual shrug.

Angela elbows him in the ribs sharply, not letting her glittering expression fall for even a second. “Excuse my husband, he’s just really passionate about his work,” she chirps, “It’s really a pleasure to meet you. We’ve heard a lot about you from our dear Sweets here.”

“So I’ve heard,” you muse softly with a giggle, “It's nice to meet you too, by the way! Lance tells me you're also a traditional artist?”

You spend the night making conversation with all of Lance’s friends. You meet Cam and her partner, Arastoo, who are so lovely and gentle to you. You ask Arastoo all about his beliefs and how he came to work in forensics, and you even talk to Cam about her daughter. You also get to talk to some of the interns at the Jeffersonian. Each conversation just pulls you in, even if you don’t understand everything they’re saying. You’re literally talking to the leaders of forensic sciences, who wouldn’t take the chance to ask them all the questions and praise them for their work! Even through dinner, you share a quiet conversation with one intern, Finn, about his time before coming to Washington DC. Afterwards, you all take to lounging in the living room to enjoy some eggnog and story telling.

“So how did you and Sweets meet, huh?” Angela asks as she plops down next to you and Sweets on the couch.

The entire team falls quiet, all eyes immediately set intently on you. You shy back into Lance's embrace, which makes him chuckle and hold you tighter. Was your story really that interesting to all these people? Really?

“Do you want me to tell them?” Sweets asks you quietly, fingers brushing against the skin of your shoulder.

“Yeah, your memory’s better anyways.”

“He has to learn all that psychobabble somehow,” Booth jests from across the room, earning a disapproving look from his wife but some amused chuckles from the rest of the guests.

Sweets just rolls his eyes, easily brushing the jab off as he starts your story, “So, we actually met at a christmas party, just like this one. A mutual friend invited us and we started talking, and things just kind of...took off from there.”

You can’t help the snort of laughter that breaks from your lips when Lance trails off. He perks an eyebrow up, peering down at you in confusion, which only serves to send you into a bigger fit of giggles.

“What?” He asks, voice pitching up.

“Nothing, nothing,” you chortle, pressing a hand to your mouth to muffle your laughter, “You just left out a small tidbit. A pretty important tidbit.”

“Oh, did he?”

The room waits for you to calm down, but when you do, you just stare intently at Sweets with a raised eyebrow. Did he actually forget the beginning of the story? And right after you praised him for his memory! You wait for just a moment longer, the words perched on your tongue, waiting to see if he gets there on his own. It’s only when you see his eyes blow wide and his entire face flush red that you let the words tumble from your lips.

“What he failed to mention, is that we didn’t just meet and start talking. No, no.” Now it’s your turn to grin cheekily, “We met under the mistletoe, by chance, and you all know how the tradition goes. We started talking after that and found that we actually had a bit in common. It was about a month later that our mutual friend decided to share with me what actually happened that night.”

It begins to dawn on some people what you’re alluding to. You can hear some giggles ring out behind you from who you’re sure is Angela and the other women. Sweets is getting darker by the second, even his ears are tinged with that appealing rosy glow. This is totally payback for his teasing earlier.

“So, this is how the story actually goes, according to our friend,” you finally continue, “Apparently, I caught Lance’s eye when I got to the party. Back then though, he was a bit shier, and didn’t want to talk to me without a reason, sooo….he and our friend came up with a plan to have us meet under the mistletoe ‘accidentally’.” You break out some air quotes for the last word to stress just how silly the story is.

“Sweets, you dog,” Hodgins laughs.

“I never thought Sweets would come up with such a devious plan,” Temperance states amusedly.

“Alright, alright,” Sweets waves his hands in the air, looking thoroughly flustered much to your pleasure, “In my defense, she looked absolutely beautiful that night. Anyone would have been intimidated.”

Something warm and fuzzy fills your chest as you tuck yourself back into Lance’s side. To think, you almost didn’t go to that party last year. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have met the most amazing person in your life.

“I can’t say I mind too much,” you chirp, eyes closing as you rest your head on his chest like a content cat, “I think I’m pretty lucky to be the one who caught his eye.”

“You guys are disgustingly adorable,” Angela giggles next to you.

Maybe you are. You had never felt such a deep sense of affection for anyone, that is, until you met Lance. Now that you know what it feels like, you can’t help but return it full force, with every ounce of your being. He’s just been so good to you and has lifted you up in dark times over the past year. You couldn’t ask for anyone better, because you’re absolutely sure such a person doesn’t exist.

The rest of the night is spent telling stories and sharing sentiments. You stay tucked in Lance’s side the entire time, just enjoying the jovial tone and the sound of his laughter. When midnight rolls around, the party begins to wind down, filled with yawns and mumbled goodbyes as people take their leave. You and Sweets are some of the last to go, with Seeley and Temperance trailing you to the door.

“Thank you so much, again, for inviting us,” you murmur as you give the older woman a tight hug.

“Of course! You are welcome here anytime, and if you ever need anything, do not be afraid to call.”

“Yah, we’re always here to help. Though I’m sure Sweets here would do about anything for you,” Booth chuckles as he pulls away from giving Lance a hug.

Sweets gives his head a little shake and takes up his place next to you, “Thanks you guys, we really appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.” Booth gives a little wave, “You two have a good night. Oh, and you might want to take a look up,” he chimes right before closing the door.

Your eyes dart straight up at that, landing on a small plant hanging from the doorway. Breathless laughter shakes your chest, pale clouds lifting from your lips in the cold night air. It’s mistletoe.

“Did you do this?” You look at Lance, who has one of the smuggest smiles that you’ve ever seen on him.

He gives you a shrug and draws you closer by a hand on your hip, “Maybe…”

You shake your head at his antics, but you can’t ignore the butterflies that swirl around in your chest. Even after a year, he still makes your heart race.

“Well then, don’t leave me hanging.”

Lance doesn’t hesitate to cup your face, tilting your chin up so he can capture your lips in a sweet kiss. For just a moment, you forget the cold, you forget how late it is and how tired you are. All you can feel is the warmth of his body next to yours, the thrumming of his heart under your palm. Even when the kiss comes to an end, the two of you stay close, foreheads barely touching.

“I love you, (Y/n),” he murmurs oh so softly, for only you to hear.

“I love you too, Lance. Merry Christmas.”

Again, I love you all so much, and I hope your Christmas was absolutely amazing! Send in a request and I’ll be sure to try and write it!

[daily-dose-of-sweets]

Cat Lover

James Aubrey X Reader

Summary: Based on Season 10 Episode 9 “The Mutilations of the Master Manipulator” You are there when they find the little orange tabby, Skinner. When Hodgins can’t take him, you offer up your home. You just have to convince Aubrey that it’s a good idea.

Words: 1444

“It sounds like something’s in here…” Hodgins mumbles softly as he turns his flashlight towards the other side of the garage.

You tilt your head, eyes scanning for any signs of movement.

“Whatever it is, it could be the source of the predation we found,” you ponder out loud, thinking back to all the marks on the body.

Hodgins hushes you, and out of the silence you hear a quiet creaking coming from the cabinets. Your eyes widen, darting over to meet his. There is definitely something in here. With a quick shared nod, the two of you creep forward, footsteps silent on the concrete. You keep your flashlight focused on the door as he reaches out.

“One…”

Your shoulders tense slightly.

“Two…”

What could be in there? A possum? A skunk? Neither sound too scary but the suspense is putting your nerves on end.

“Three!”

Hodgins rips the door open.

“Meew”

You gasp as an orange, furry head pokes out from the cabinet, wide eyes darting between you and the entomologist. Oh my gosh.

“It’s just a cute little kitty!” You squeak as Hodgins reaches up and scruffs the little guy, pulling him down into his arms.

What an adorable little cat! You crowd in close, gently scratching beneath his fuzzy chin. He immediately starts purring like a motor, eyes squinting with content. Gosh, how can one cat be so cute! You could literally die.

“Poor things probably been trapped in here ever since Fairbanks died,” Hodgins says.

A small pout pulls at your lips when you think about it, “I can’t imagine being locked in such a small space for that long. You poor baby��What are we going to do with you?”

You can’t just drop him off at a shelter, there’s no telling what kind of home he’ll go to! Or if they’ll even keep him. The poor cat’s already been through so much.

“I would say I’d take Skinner here,” Hodgin hums, frowning as he looks down at the creature, “but unfortunately, Michael Vincent is allergic. What about you?”

You take a moment to think it over. You’re currently living in an apartment with Aubrey, your boyfriend. It’s not super big...but Skinner would probably be happy. You’d get him plenty of toys and the fanciest cat food, he’d live like a king! Plus, the idea of snuggling down on the couch with the orange fuzzball to read a book seems too good to pass up. Yup, you’re convinced! Now you just have to convince Aubrey...later.

“I’ll take him home,” you grin and sweep the cat out Hodgins’ arms, letting him curl up into your chest, dirty fur and all, “Once we get him a good bath and make sure he’s clear of evidence at least.”

What a perfect little friend to have! You’ll get him a nice collar with a bell, a cat tower that reaches all the way to the ceiling, and maybe even some of those designer shelves meant just for cats! Then hopefully he won’t get bored while you and Aubrey are at work.

“I found a tablet in the victim’s house,” Aubrey declares as he comes into the garage, stealing your attention away from your new roommate, “I think this might explain…”

The brunet comes to pause when he looks up to find you, cat tucked comfortably in your arms.

“That’s a cat…”

“Correction!” You grin, albeit a little sheepishly, “This is Skinner.”

Aubrey spends a moment just staring at you, like he’s processing what you just said and the fact that you seem to tighten your grip stubbornly around the cat. Choosing to not address it just now, he clears his throat and brings his attention back to the tablet.

“I think this might explain all the screaming golden girls heard.”

With that, the topic is dropped for the moment, and you all crowd around the screen to watch a video play out of a young woman pleading with the camera.

---

“(Y/n)...I’m not so sure about this.”

Aubrey addresses you at the entrance to the lab, arms cross over his chest. You trot up to him, Skinner tucked in your arms, this time clean and well-fed. Aubrey’s light eyes stay locked on the cat, hesitant but not completely closed off. This is your chance!

“Please Aubrey?” You pull out your best puppy dog eyes, looking up at him pleadingly through your lashes, “Look at him, he’s so handsome...almost as handsome as you.”

The faintest flush spreads up his neck as he glances away from you, tense shoulders loosening a fraction. A grin breaks out across your lips. He’ll totally break.

You tug at one of Aubrey’s arms, forcing it down so he softly grips your waist as you lean into his side. His gaze turns back to you sharply, brimming with suspicion.

“Imagine it, both of us on the couch, curled up in a blanket, with a huge tub of popcorn while we watch a movie, and lil’ old Skinner here snoozing away between us, purring and happy because he has a home again,” you persuade him softly, “We can be his home, Jay.”

Aubrey begrudgingly looks down at the tabby, eyes narrowed as if he’s trying to decide if the small, fuzzy creature is a threat. Skinner tilts his chin up, sensing the gaze on him, and turns his wide, green eyes on the FBI agent. You watch intently as Aubrey clenches his jaw, holds it for a moment, before the tension completely drains from his body. You can barely contain an excited squeal when he reaches down and gently scratches the top of Skinner’s head before smoothing a hand over his back.

“He is pretty cute…” he admits quietly, as if he doesn’t want you to hear him.

“Is that a yes, then?”

There’s a solid moment of silence before Aubrey finally nods, “Yah, we can take him home.”

The excitement finally takes over as you go into a little dance, careful not to upset the tabby though. You wrap your free arm around your boyfriend, leaning up onto your tippy toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, Jay!!”

Aubrey can’t help but grin when faced with your overwhelming joy. He watches as you lift the cat in both hands, giving him a giant kiss on his fuzzy head before wrapping him in your arms again. A small chuckle rumbles through his chest at the slightly perturbed face the cat pulls.

“Looks like I have two boys to shower with affection now, huh? Isn’t that right Skinner?” You ask, purely talking to the cat, before you side glance at Aubrey, “Hope no one gets jealous…”

The bunet laughs again, shaking his head as he tugs you back to his side. You giggle as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head, hand gripping your hip a little tighter than before.

“The moment you start giving that cat more attention than me, I’m kicking him out.”

There’s a hint of humor in his words, so you know it’s a joke. Either way, you could never love anyone or anything more than you love Aubrey. He’s been there for you in all the good and bad times. Through rough cases and loss. You may love Skinner a lot already, but no one will ever match up to Aubrey.

“Ready to go home, Jay? Get Skinner all set up, maybe watch Aristocats, so he feels welcomed,” you suggest as you curl further into your boyfriend’s side.

“Of course, we can’t have him getting the wrong idea, after all.” Aubrey stays close as the two of you make your way out of the Jeffersonian, arm still wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer when the winter cold hits you. “Oh, by the way! I heard about this new restaurant-”

Your heart flutters at the excited gleam that fills his eyes when he starts telling you about the newest place that opened down the road from your apartment. You can’t help it, he looks so cute when he gets excited about something. You really got so lucky, meeting Aubrey and falling in love.

Skinner starts purring loudly against your chest, and when you look down, his eyes are set adoringly on your boyfriend as he continues to talk, telling you all about the menu and possible golden finds. You obviously don’t know what the cat is thinking, but you’re sure he already loves the man just as much as you do. It’s hard not to, after all.

It seems like you’ll be the one competing for Aubrey’s attention, not the other way around.

[daily-dose-of-sweets]

HELLO. YOU ARE A WONDERFUL AUTHOR. I TOO LOVE SWEETS WHOLEHEARTEDLY. I DONT KNOW IF YOU HAVE REQUEST GUIDELINES BUT MAYBE SOME ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP FLUFF? LITERALLY ANYTHING I WILL TAKE ANYTHING TYSM I LOVE YOU

This made my day, thank you so much for my first request!!! I hope this works for what you want, but I can totally write another piece if you want! Anything for a fellow Sweets lover <3

Borrowed Sweater

Lance Sweets X Reader

Summary: You are in a relationship with Sweets, and one winter morning, you can’t find anything to wear except one soft navy sweater that may or may not be yourself. Just a short little attempt at a fluff piece.

Words: 1080

When the early morning sun peaks in through your curtains, you can’t help but groan and throw a pillow over your face. Why are the curtains even open? Sweets usually closes them before the two of you go to bed.

Speaking of Sweets…

You shift and slide a hand over the covers, feeling for the familiar presence of your boyfriend. The sheets are still warm, but he is notably absent. You roll over so you can peer out from under your protective pillow. His side of the bed is definitely empty.

With another groan, you force yourself up and out of the bed, wrapping a nearby blanket around your shoulders. It’s winter and to be honest, your apartment building doesn’t have the best heating system, so the mornings are always a bit chilly. You shuffle down the hall, big socks drooping down your legs but providing a good barrier between you and the cold floor.

The closer you get to the kitchen, the easier you can smell something delicious cooking. Bacon? And pancakes! A small smile tugs at your lips when you finally reach the doorway and find Lance standing at the stove, a stack of your favorite pancakes next to him. He doesn’t seem to notice your presence, so, with a devilish grin, you quietly sneak up behind him and slip your arms around his waist, losing your blanket in the process.

The psychologist jumps, but you hear a chuckle rumble through his chest once he realizes it’s you.

“Good mornin’,” you mumble groggily into his shoulder blades, thoroughly enjoying the warmth radiating off of him. It more than makes up for the blanket.

He drops one hand from the pan to rest over yours, fingers gently intertwining, “Good morning to you too.”

“How long’ve you been up?”

“A hour or so. I couldn’t sleep so I decided to get up, review the case file, and make breakfast,” Sweets gives your hand a squeeze before he moves to put the last pancake on the pile.

You purse your lips in slight concern, but decide not to mention it. You both have stressful jobs, which sometimes comes with sleepless nights. This case especially. Knowing he slept for most of the night is enough to assure you there isn’t a more serious cause. You tighten your embrace for a moment before slipping away and taking a seat at the small table in the corner.

“Did you discover anything new?” You ask as Sweets places a plate in front of you.

He slips into the seat across from you, a pensive look overtaking his features, “Well, I think that our suspect could have a narcissistic personality. I noticed that…”

You smile as he dives into his fresh findings.One of your favorite things about Sweets is his zeal for his work. He started so young and look at where he is now! One of the best profilers in the FBI. You couldn’t be prouder of him. Hearing him talk about his findings with so much passion, despite your lack of understanding in the subject, fills your chest with a warm fondness.

When you finish breakfast, both of you start getting ready for the day.

You stare blankly at your side of the closet, thoroughly unimpressed with the clothes hanging there. Nothing looks...right. A soft puff of air escapes your lips as you prop your hands on your hips. This is dumb, why can’t you just pick an outfit? You’ll just throw a lab coat over it anyways!

Without thinking, your eyes slide over to Lance’s side of the closet. A soft, navy blue sweater immediately pops out. Eyes glinting excitedly, you dash over to the bathroom where Sweets is and peak in.

“Hey, hun, would it be alright if I borrow a sweater?” You request, putting on your best puppy dog eyes to convince him, not that he’d ever have the heart to deny you.

Sweets peers at you curiously before nodding, “Of course, go ahead.”

You do a little fist bump, it’s a small but worthwhile victory. Now you’ll have a piece of him with you all day. Plus, Lance has some of the softest sweaters you’ve ever seen. Binging Project Runway did good by him. You skip back over to the closet and snatch the one that caught your eyes, easily slipping it on in place of your pajama top.

The sleeves fall over your hands, which makes you childishly flap them around in amusement and giggle. It’s huge on you, but you were right about how soft it would be. How does he get work done in something so comfortable? You wrap your arms around yourself with a wide grin. You’ll have no problems staying warm in this thing.

“That was quite possibly the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”

You jump and spin around when his voice calls out from behind you. A blush spreads over your cheeks, grin turning bashful, but you can’t help but preen over the compliment. How did you end up with someone so amazing? Sweets is so sweet. The thought makes another small laugh escape you.

Lance gestures you over, fond smile on his lips. You easily slip into a warm embrace, similar to the one this morning, but this time, you can rest your head on his chest and enjoy the feeling of his arms wrapping around you. There is no other place you feel safer, securer, than in his arms.

“You look nice in my clothes,” he murmurs, tugging at the sweater.

You tilt your chin up, eyebrow perked teasingly, “Yah? I’ll have to wear them more often then, won’t I?”

Sweets doesn’t protest the idea, just leans down to place a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. Your eyes flutter shut, basking in the warmth of his skin on yours. You honestly can’t get enough of how Sweets treats you like a doll sometimes, all gentle touches and adoring looks. At the same time, he trusts you with his life and supports you and your independence. You couldn’t ask for a better partner. He’s as close to perfect as it gets.

“I love you, Lance.” The words slip out without thought, but are completely earnest. Your eyes slip back open, set adoringly on the man before you.

He ducks down again, this time letting his lips touch yours in the sweetest kiss you’ve had yet. You sigh happily and lean back into him.

“I love you too, (Y/n).”

[daily-dose-of-sweets]

Mirror-touch Synesthesia

Lance Sweets X Reader

Warnings: none really

Part Two: Fix You Up

Part One

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters or anything to do with the show!

—————————————————————

“You okay, sweetie?” Angela is kneeling next to you within seconds, hands fluttering frantically around you.

You nod reassuringly, though you keep your eyes closed, “Yah I’m okay.”

She tells you to wait a moment and you hear the screeching of something on the floor before she pulls you up into a chair.

“Is he okay?” You ask worriedly.

“Who, Sweets? Honey, he’s fine, right Booth?”

“Huh? Oh yah, yah, you’re fine, right Sweets?” The man, who you now remember to be the FBI agent who frequently visits Dr. Brennan, says.

There is a groan in response to his question. He does not sound okay, that’s for sure. If your pain is anything in comparison, he must be pretty badly hurt.

“What is going on out here?” Dr. Brennan demands, her footsteps approaching quickly, “Why is Sweets on the ground, Booth?”

“He just had a bit of a run in with a cart, he’s fine.”

“He doesn’t look fine,” Brennan states, the tiniest hint of worry coloring her tone.

There is a bit of a shuffle and you can only assume that the injured man is being helped up.

“Perhaps we should get Dr. Saroyan,” Brennan contemplates.

“No, I’m okay,” a softer voice, you guess it belongs to Sweets, says, “Just need to sit down.”

More shuffling and then a thud, accompanied by a small grunt from Sweets.

You finally allow your eyes to flutter open, concluding that nothing else could happen. The pain will still be present for a while, it always lasts and then slowly fades. Phantom pain. You want to make sure the actual owner of the pain is okay like he says he is.

Your eyes flicker over to the stranger, and you barely hide your surprise. He’s cute. Like super cute. Cuter than most of the guys you know, including all the other interns, and they’re all pretty good looking. Geez, now you mentally rambling.

Heat creeps into your face and you look down at your lap. And now you are blushing, great.

“Are you okay, Ms. (l/n)?”

“Yes, Dr. Brennan,” you put on a grin to cover the pain and nerves, “just uh, yah, I’m just peachy.”

Sweets is staring at you now. Gosh, someone please cause a distraction.

“What happened out here?”

Thank God, a wild Hodgins appears. This will either take the pressure off of you or make it worse. Hopefully the former.

“Sweets here had a bit of a struggle with a cart of tools,” Angela explains, equally amused as she is irritated.

You send her a look and insist, “I’m fine, Ange,” knowing that she’s upset that you got hurt in the process.

“Jeez, Sweets,” Hodgins laughs, only to be sent a mild glare from the brunet. He turns to you, eyes still mirthful, “It’s just not your day kiddo.”

“Talk about it,” you grumble, rubbing your right shoulder, that’s what hit the ground first.

“Did something else happen?” Angela asks, looking accusingly at Hodgins.

The man holds up his hands in surrender, having the decency to look a little guilty. You snicker as his eyes quietly plead with you to stay quiet. You never miss the opportunity to mess with Hodgins though, he never misses the chance with you after all. Payback time.

“King of the Lab got bit by a beetle while talking with me.”

Hodgins practically squawks in denial, which causes you to start laughing harder. Angela rolls her eyes, but she is also resisting a smile. The man gestures wildly while throwing excuses, almost smacking Booth in the face, only making the circumstances worse. You laugh even harder at the murderous glare he receives from the FBI agent.

“I don’t see why this is funny,” Brennan mumbles off to the side.

“He was bested by a bug,” you choke out, “taken down by his second greatest love.”

“It was just a small bite, stop making me sound like I lost a fight.” He complains, though even he is holding back a laugh.

You send him a playful wink, and try to calm down to ease the growing ache in your sides. It really helps to take your mind off of the pain you just experienced, so a real smile now lightens your features.

“I am so...confused, what’s going on?” Sweets breaks in, his face scrunched with a bit of a perplexed pout.

Your face darkens once again, but you send him a smile. One of his eyebrow perks a little bit, curiously.

“‘Fraid we haven’t met. I’m (y/n)(l/n), Dr. Brennan’s intern for today, and I have mirror-touch synesthesia,” your smile turns hesitant as the confusion on his face deepens.

“Lance Sweets, nice to meet you,” he pauses, and you can see the gears grinding in his mind, “What is mirror-touch synesthesia? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Why don’t we talk about it while I fix up those cuts, it’ll help us both,” you mumble the last part to yourself as you stand and help him up as well.

You drag him up to the little break balcony, leaving the others to scold Hodgins and then return to their work. When you get there, you snatch the emergency kit from one of the cabinets. Making him sit down on the couch, you open the kit and pull out some gauze and disinfectant. This is not the first time you’ve had to fix someone up. You realized a long time ago that helping anyone you see get hurt eases your own pain.

“So, uh, mirror-touch syndrome a condition. I can basically feel what other people feel, like when you fell and all your cuts, and yah…” you end lamely as you soak the gauze in a bit of disinfectant. Explaining it is always awkward for some reason.

Some people don’t believe in your condition, and you don’t blame them, but you have met enough jerks to be hesitant when sharing it. Your condition is a part of you, though, and not sharing it feels like lying, creating false expectations. Plus, it helps to explain most of your strange behavior.

“I can’t say I’ve ever heard of it,” Sweets says thoughtfully.

You brighten up as his open tone. He does not sound condescending, which is a good sign. Not to mention exciting, it opens up a conversation your rarely get to have.

“Not surprising,” you hum, “it’s a fairly rare condition, no normal person knows about it.”

You start to dab the gauze against his cuts, schooling your features as you feel the sting.

“It’s like a really unhelpful super power. Like, right now, I can feel this sting,” you murmur, focused and content as said sting dulls to a warm ache, “It’s not all bad though. I can feel good things too. Dr. Saroyan made a rule when I first started here, it’s helped a lot, but you know, there’s still some incidents. Especially with Hodgins and his experiments.”

Sweets chuckles quietly, and you are drawn to a realization that you started rambling again, out loud this time. You drop your hands into your lap with a grimace, how embarrassing. You glance up through the loose strands of your hair, analyzing his expression. He’s smiling. That’s good, he’s not irritated. You quickly dismiss the blush on your cheeks as a sign of your embarrassment and not the incredibly cute dimples that his grin brings out. And it’s definitely not because of the warm twinkle in his eyes.

“Any questions before you continue to let me run my tongue?”

“When did you discover that you had it?”

“Kindergarten. Saw a kid fall off the swings. I freaked the teachers out, big time.”

The memory brings a small smile to your lips. Despite not remembering the details, your parents told you about the call they received when it happened. It was one of the memories you clung to when it came to your parents. Back when things were good.

“Wow, and you’ve learned to cope with it since? How do you do that?”

“Interesting shoes,” you reply, gesturing to your footwear, distracting yourself from that path of thinking.

He looks down and chuckles again.

“I also joined a support group when I was a teenager, and I was sent to a private school. That helped a bunch, knowing that people cared and that I wasn’t the only one,” Your say, a bit of nostalgia creeping into your voice. Breaking out of the past with a slow inhale, you turn your eyes to him and ask, “So, are you an FBI agent?”

“I work with the FBI, I’m a psychologist. I help by providing insight on suspects,” he explains.

“Oh! I’ve heard about you, lot of talk about the FBI’s ‘shrink’.” You put air quotes around the word, since you find it a little disrespectful, but that’s what the people your work with call him.

“Oh really?” He sounds hesitantly doubtful.

“Mostly good things, I swear. Well, except for Dr. Brennan, she’s very…” How do you phrase this?

“Critical? Condescending?” He suggests, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, and yes.” You don’t expect much else from someone who bases their beliefs so firmly in hard science. Plus, besides her issue with his career choice, you know that Dr. Brennan has a soft spot for Sweets.

“And what do you think?” Sweets looks at you expectantly, probably expecting you to be like the rest of your fellow scientists.

“I think it’s admirable,” you say honestly, “Psychologists do a lot to help people, and I know you’ve helped solve some of the toughest cases. I’m not really in this job for the hard science or anything, I just wanna help people too, so I kinda get it. Bodies make more sense to me than minds, though,” you end with a laugh.

“You know, you’re the first person here to think that way.”

There is suddenly a sharp bark of Sweets name from below. You both glance over the rail to see Booth waiting by the exit, tapping his foot impatiently. Sweets frowns momentarily, glancing between you and Booth, before sighing silently. He wanted to keep this conversation going since he hasn’t met someone in the forensic field who accepted his occupation as quickly as you did. Supported it, even. You were a breath of fresh air for him.

“Well, looks like I need to go. I look forward to hopefully working with you,” he offers a smile, a flash of dimples, that sends your heart pounding, “and thank you, for uh, helping me out.”

“No problem, Dr. Sweets, I look forward to seeing you again.” You send him a small grin and wink. Immediately after, you face goes nuclear. Why did you do that?!

Pink tints Sweets’ face as well, finding your blush endearing. His grin spreads, “Just Sweets is fine. Or Lance. Goodbye, (y/n).”

“Bye,” you wave as he makes his way down the stairs, and then continue to watch as he meets up with Booth and they leave. He looks back right before going through the door, catches you staring, and sends you another flushed smile. You squeak at being caught and duck under the railing, dropping to sit on the floor. Despite the extra embarrassment, you feel elation course through you.

Gosh, what have you gotten yourself into?

[daily-dose-of-sweets]

The tv doesn’t show the first episode of season 10. For those of you who know what happens on that episode, you will know why I’m grateful. Bless their souls for sparing my heart.

[daily-dose-of-sweets]

Mirror-touch Synesthesia

Lance Sweets X Reader

Words: 1400(ish)

Warnings: Rare condition, if that counts, slow build kinda

Part One: Hi, I Have mirror-touch synesthesia!

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters or anything to do with the show! The science may be faulty as well though I draw most of it from the show

Summary: You are an intern at the Smithsonian and you have a rare condition that forces you to experience the physical sensations of others. An accident in the lab leads you to meet Dr. Lance Sweets, and let’s say that some shy sparks fly!

Part Two

—————————————————————

Hi, I’m (y/n), and I have mirror-touch synesthesia!

Mirror-touch Synesthesia: (n.) a rare condition which causes individuals to experience the same sensation that another person feels

Life in D.C. was busy as ever, despite the oncoming winter season accompanied by its cold weather. You walk briskly along the crowded sidewalk, head ducked down and eyes focused solely on your colorfully-painted shoes. Driving may be a faster option to get to work, but you decided a long time ago that it was not worth the risk. At least here there’s no real risk of causing an accident, just an incident.

You cringe at the thought, scratching your arm anxiously. The Smithsonian is not much further, and you have walked this path several times, but every moment in a crowd puts you on edge. Guess that is what comes along with having the condition you have. All the shoving and foot-stepping can be unbearable, which is why your shoes have always been amazingly interesting. Might as well enjoy it, right? Staring down at bland shoes for most of your life would be horribly boring.

With a sigh of relief, you finally approach the entrance to the Smithsonian Institution, your place of work. You are an intern for Dr. Temperance Brennan.

Now you might ask, why would someone who can experience other’s physical feelings work in a place with a so many injuries and dead bodies? Simple answer, is that your condition does not apply to the dead. It is strange really, but you might as well work with what is given to you. It helps that the team is really supportive of you and tries their best to be aware of your condition. ‘No harmful physical contact’, that’s the rule Dr. Saroyan put in place when she learned about it. You appreciate it a lot, it was one of the few places you felt safe from your condition.

You are met with the calm chatter of your peers when you step into the lab. Slipping into a white lab coat, you scan your card and step onto the platform.

“Hello, Ms. (l/n), you’re late,” Dr. Brennan states at your approach.

“Sorry Dr. Brennan, pretty busy out today, the sidewalks were packed,” you mumble as you pull your (h/c) hair up into a ponytail and then put on some gloves.

Brennan looks up from the body on her table, “I understand, just don’t make it a habit. Now, I would like you to examine this body and tell me your findings,” she steps back from the body as you step closer.

“Well,” you start, letting your eyes trail over the victim.

The body is mostly bare of flesh, leaving the bones for you to analyze. You start at the skull, carefully maneuvering it to examine it from different angles.

“Based on the brow ridge and the overall size of the skull, I would say that the victim was female and...caucasian, and the lack of wear on her mandibular teeth puts her at an age below thirty. I’d say, early twenties. Fractures on the skull suggest blunt force trauma.” You move further down the body, “There’s signs of old remodelling on quite a few of the ribs, mostly ribs three through six. The remodelling shows that the wounds happened probably during or before pubescents. This also goes for the remodelled fractures on the sternum and pelvis. Antemortem injuries are consistent with abuse.”

You look up to Brennan for confirmation on your findings. Her expression is blank, if mildly pensive, and then she nods slightly.

“Very good. However, you failed to notice the perimortem injuries on the left third rib, suggestive of a stab wound.”

You nod and watch carefully as she points out the things you missed. You are still fairly new to the lab, so you are trying your hardest to learn from the accomplished forensic anthropologist.

“Now, Ms. (l/n), please take the remains to Dr. Hodgins so he may finish cleaning the bones and ask him to swab the fresh injuries and find the material of the weapon,” Brennan directs you, and you nod in affirmation.

You collect the bones on a tray, taking several trips until they are all in the possession of the botanist/entomologist/mineralogist/palynologist. Yah, he does a lot. Once you’ve finished the task, you sit on a stool in his lab and watch as he goes about cleaning the bones.

“So what’s this case about, King of the Lab?” you chirp quietly.

Hodgins grins, “Well, we got the call this morning. She was found in a public park, by a couple of kids. Boy, you should have seen the reaction of the parents,” he laughs, “Just looked like a hasty body dump, really. Angie is working on a facial reconstruction, right now, so we can get her name.”

“No identity yet, then. What about the bugs, find anything interesting at the scene?”

“Well,” Hodgins then dives in excitedly to explain everything he discovered at the site of the body. Apparently the species he found on the corpse were not local, meaning that the body was most likely dumped a while after her death and that it was kept somewhere else during that time. It would also explain the advanced deterioration of the flesh.

You honestly love spending any open time you have in Hodgins’ lab. He has always been kind to you, straight from the start, along with his wife, Angela. You are one of the younger interns in the Smithsonian, seeing as you started on this career path at a young age, and Hodgins has always acted like you older brother. He’s surprisingly protective, even more so than when you started.

Time passes by fast, and you are thoroughly entertained as the scientist goes into his theories about the homicide. He works as he talks, in the process of examining the bugs from the scene. It comes out of nowhere when one of the larger beatles bites his hand.

You both yelp, and you snatch you hand back from the invisible source of the sharp pain, clutching it to your chest.

“Shoot,” Hodgins mutters under his breath, shaking his hand, “I’m so sorry, (y/n), you okay?”

He steps around his small, glass tanks and places a gloved hand on your shoulder. You nod, sighing softly as the pain dulls to a throb.

“Yah, yah, I’m fine,” you squeak, voice higher than you hoped, “You okay? That bug’s not poisonous or anything, right?”

You may feel the pain, but none of the side effects would affect you.

Hodgins nods reassuringly, “Nope, we’re all good.”

“Okay, good, good,” you breathe a little easier then, “Well, I should probably go see if Dr. Brennan needs me for anything, are the bones almost clean?”

“Yah, just a little while longer and they’ll be all set for Brennan.” You start making your way out of the room so you can head to the bone room to search for your boss, and Hodgins calls after you right before you disappear, “Take it easy, (n/n).”

“You got it, Jackie,” you call back, hiding the still present tremor in your voice.

Even the smallest instances shake you up. An ever-present reminder of your condition. You let another sigh pass through your lips and look down at your bright shoes. A distraction. Purple with bright yellow stars today. Maybe you should start another design soon, you’re getting kind of tired of these specific ones.

As if the day cannot take a more negative turn, the moment you lift your eyes to look for Dr. Brennan, a loud bang echos through the lab as a man in a suit runs, full force, into a cart covered in tools, being pushed by one of the lab workers.

The breath gets knocked out of you by the sudden pain and you stumble just as he goes tumbling to the ground, some of the sharp tools nicking his skin. You are close enough to see it, feeling the sting of the cuts in your own skin as you fall to your knees. You breathe sharply through your nose and squeeze your eyes shut to keep yourself from further affliction.

At that moment, two voices shout.

“Sweets!” A deeper voice, which you are mildly familiar with, calls in agitation and concern.

Then, “(y/n)!” which you recognize as Angela immediately.

The one worry running through your head is, who’s this Sweets guy, and is he okay?

I hope you guys like it! Feel free to ask me anything, even if it doesn’t have to do with this story.

[daily-dose-of-sweets]

Can I just say that I think the whole episode where Sweets dresses up in his heavy metal get up is under appreciated? Like boi, he looked good!