Chapter Text
“I really didn’t think he was going to move out,” Booth said, a look of shock on his face, “And did you see how they thought we were his parents?”
“Yes, it makes sense that Sweets has imprinted on us, we fill the parental role that had been lacking since the death of his adoptive parents. Given his traumatic childhood, it makes sense that he would cling to the feeling of safety and love. We gave him a home,” Brennan said matter-of-factly, sipping her wine.
“Oh god, he’s just a kid isn’t he,” Booth leaned forward, placing his head in his hands while his elbows rested on his knees.
“Technically he’s an adult, but I can see where you’re coming from. He displays childish attributes, not in that he’s immature, but he seems to maintain a sense of innocence. A sense of innocence that I see in Christine.”
“And we just let him go?”
“We can’t force him to stay, even though I wish he would,” Brennan implored, though her gaze was despondent.
Booth sat up quickly, a serious look on his face, “Kids shouldn’t be alone, and we already said that he’s like a kid, so he shouldn’t be alone.”
“I understand what you’re saying, but legally and biologically he is an adult.”
“But what about his soul? His soul is young.”
“You know I don’t believe in souls, but I can believe that he may have a lower emotional maturity,” Brennan conceded. “I thought you wanted him to leave. You kept making fun of him for staying with us.”
“I was just teasing him; it was all good natured. I think I thought I wanted him to move out, but now that he’s gone, I don’t know, it feels wrong,” Booth grimaced.
“When I was reading one of Sweets’ psychology books, I stumbled across something pertaining to adults displaying childish attributes as a form of therapy and recovery from trauma. Perhaps that is what Sweets is subconsciously doing?”
“I don’t know, I just know that I want my kid back inside my house where I can keep him safe.”
“Go get him, Booth. Bring our boy home.”
…
“Booth?” Sweets asked, surprised to see him at his apartment so shortly after leaving the man’s home.
“I’m sorry for making you feel like you needed to move out. Bones and I want you to come back,” Booth said, shifting slightly on his feet as if in embarrassment.
Sweets blinked, mouth open in surprise, before saying, “It’s okay, Booth, I needed to move out. I’m very thankful for both of yours' hospitality, but it’s time for me to grow up.”
“See, that’s where I disagree. I’ve never seen you happier than when you were living with us. You need the love and support of a family. You deserve it. Bones and I love you, and we want you to come home,” Booth’s gaze was steady, and he was no longer shifting, implying just how strongly he meant what he said.
“Agent Booth…”
“No, no Agent Booth. You tend to use my title when you’re nervous or uncomfortable. There’s no need to be. I shouldn’t have made you feel like you had to leave.”
Sweets’ eyes watered, and Booth sighed before stepping closer and wrapping him in an embrace. Hiding his face in Booth’s neck, Sweets shook, not quite crying, but vibrating with the intense feeling of emotion that was coursing through him. After a long moment, Booth stepped back, bringing a hand up to wipe away a renegade tear that had escaped Sweets’ eye.
“Are you ready to go home now?”
“I, I already paid rent, and…”
“It’s okay, Bones and I will help you get it all figured out. We can’t make you, but we want you to come home. Will you come home?” Booth questioned, lightly rubbing Sweets’ arms to comfort him. Sweets stared, before giving a small nod, a hint of a smile on his face.
“Attaboy, let’s go get your stuff.”