TITLE: "KICK ASS" (An X-Files Sex-Comedy) AUTHOR: "GVB" RATING: NC-17 CATEGORY: MulderTorture/MulderSweetLove! ScullyTorture/Love too. SPOILERS: Beyond the Sea, Fight the Future, et. al. THANK-YOU'S: I thank this Mulder/Torture Site maintained by SMILEY! This story is free for archiving anywhere with my full permission and gratitude. SUMMARY: If Scully and Mulder got into a fight, a real fight, with some actual physical contact, who would win? (Based on an idea found during a random X-Files 'Net surf). DISCLAIMER: The X-Files series, movie, characters, and related props: cuff-links, files, panty-hose & boxers are all the property of Chris Carter, Ten- Thirteen Productions and the Fox Network. I don't want any credit, fame or fortune from X-Files, I only want to write about your show and characters to entertain myself and others. Feedback, feedback, I lick your feet for feedback. *** "..and you can take your stupid X-Files and shove them!" Mulder's jaw dropped to a new low and his heart wasn't far behind, but if Dana Scully wanted a verbal battle, she sure as hell was going to get one. "I'm sure you know what you can do with your science worship, and skepticizm. Stick them right up your-" "Oh, shut-up, Mulder. Do you always have to get in the last word? Huh?! Always be the one to have the last moronic zingy pop out of your fat-lipped mouth?!" //Fat lipped??// "Well, it's a cut above all the bloody high and mighty sighing from you. You expel enough doubting air each day to inflate a blimp!" "Look, just take these damn things..." Scully grabbed a pile of manila folders from her desk and violently thrust them at her partner. He almost lost his balance at the ferocity behind it. "Hey! I thought you were a church goer?" "I am!" "Then is this the New Wave Golden Rule? Treat your partner like shit? Or is hitting the pews every sabbath your only way to pick up guys?" Scully seethed. "You are such a pervert, Mulder. I'll bet not a sex-free thought has taken refuge in your brain for the past twenty years. You oughta' see someone about that." She flung more hated yellow folders his way and he stuggled to hold onto the growing pile in his arms. "Maybe you need a sex lobotomy or a moral castration or maybe a sex change! Yes, that's the answer. Give all those fellas at VCU something more to laugh at." "At least I remember what sex is like, Miss Can't Get Layed." "If you don't close your mouth, I'm going to kick your ass, Mulder!" "What?! Oh, that's rich, Scully. Then you'll rush right off to confession I guess. You were never this grumpy when you were fat!" She spun around, "That does it!" and pushed him hard. He lost balance for a second and all his precariously balanced files toppled from his hands to spread across the heel-marked linoleum. Mulder saw red. Good manners be fucked, gentleman or no, he was not going to be pushed around by a Irish midgit! He shoved back and she fell on her ass! Not intending to push her so hard, he stared in horror. "Jesus, I'm sorry, Scully, I really didn't mean to-" The wild fury that looked back at him actually gave him pause. He was startled, a bit. No, he was scared. Mulder watched with wide eyes as she readied to launch. He only had to dive for the open door to escape what came next but he waited two seconds to long. The onslought arrived. Scully pounced and as she did, he grabbed both her little wrists in his man-sized hands and held her at bay with relative ease while she spat and cursed and whipped her hair around. She meade no headway though. None. It bounced around in his head. //Little Scary Scully// He grinned. The red-headed tazmanian devil, growling and spitting, was held at arms length while his eyes sparkled. Things had definately taken a speedy turn in his favor and he couldn't help laughing at her futile tirade. It was the wrong thing to do. Scully heard that "I'm the man, I'm stronger. You're just a weakling female" asshole laughter and dropped like a stone to the floor, spinning and twisting her arms as she went. Mulder then had no choice but to let go or be pulled down too. When she arrived there, she braced herself on one knee and one foot and drove her elbow straight back behind her right into Mulder's crotch. She'd even given it the old hydraulic punch by adding the thrust of her other hand cupped over the fist of that pistoned elbow. "AHHHH - FUCK!" Mulder shouted, dropping to the floor in a ridiculous fetal pose, hands swinging down too late to protect his manly goods. All he could do was lie on his side, groan and hide his throbbing balls. "Ouch! - Shit!" Scully yelped and got to her feet. She stood over him. His days were numbered. But she wasn't drawing back a three inch heel to finish him off, she was rubbing her head and wincing. When his tender's crippling pain faded to a dull throb, he had focus enough to squint up at her towering over him, as much as all five feet of her was able. Both spoke at once. Mulder, wheezing, "You sacked me." He accused. Scully, pouting, "You pulled my hair out." Both excused themselves, "I didn't mean to!" Mulder saw strands of red dye job caught in his right cufflink. Scully saw Mulder hugging his jewels and showing no signs of un-hugging them. "Where did you pick up all this Kung-Fu shit anyway?" He gasped. "When did you start wearing cuff-links?" She growled. "None of your business!" Both spat. Scully rubbed her head and sat down in her chair. Mulder remained where he was, the cool floor was just what he needed for his hot flush of temper. Besides, he couldn't get up yet if he wanted to. Scully watched him lying there like a spent puppy who'd been run all day in the park. *Pant, pant, pant.* If his tongue lolled out, she wouldn't be able to keep the face straight. Suddenly, she felt bad. She really hadn't meant to get him _there_, exactly. //Nice, round, firm ones, Muld'//. Mulder had his eyes clamped shut and sucked air. The _twins_ must really be hurting. "Mulder..." "I don't want to fight with you, Scully. You sacked me and it was on purpose." "Mulder..." "Sacking's against the rules." She smiled at that. Maybe Hoyle had made such a rule, he'd been a _guy_ after all. "Mulder..." "Never mind appologizing either. I won't walk normally for a week now. Think Skinner'll put something on my jacket for it? Are their restrictions for bruised sex organs? He could take my gun!" She couldn't help herself. "Oh, probably. I think Skinner's been looking to get his hands around your *GLOCK* for years." Sputtering, "Riot." and even madder, Mulder, just to prove he was still a whole hetero-male and could take care of himself, slowly uncurled and managed to get to his hands and knees. Once there, he had to take a breather. //Oh, yeah, that's the pose of Hercules.// Scully tongue was nearly poking through her cheek at the sight of Mulder slowly, slo-o-o-o-owly straightening up, his spine popping a few notes on the trip. Keeping his eye on the exact placement in the room of Scully's elbows and feet, he steered clear and knee-walked over to the discarded files, pushing them into piles with awkward straight-backed sweeps of his hands. He still couldn't properly bend over. Gravity would be too unforgiving so a sudden tilt was unthinkable. He shoved messy papers and files under his arm, dropping three for every two he managed. Frustrated, he grabbed a wrinkled bundle of them and thrust them back behind himself at her. "Here!" She calmly accepted them, her eyes not on the task but, rather, on his ass. What a delightful ass it was too. All man. "Mulder..." He didn't answer, only huffed a pissed-off sigh. She cocked her head at the ripples of muscle beneath those two hundred dollar Armani's. //You can't ingore me forever, Mulder. And I can't ignore those!// Gathering papers into piles, he scooted back and was just close enough. "Mulder,..." she layed a hand on his shoulder and he flinched but she didn't remove it. "What? What do you want!?" He huffed and puffed.... //And I'm a gonna blooooooow...// she wickedly finished in her head. Scully leaned forward. His tie was askew and draped loose around his neck like a noose, his collar button undone. Slipping her fingers beneath the loosened shirt, she rested the backs of her four fingers on his naked flesh. "Mu-u-l-d-e-er..." He froze in mid-huff. His stupid heart pounded in his ear while his mental Rolladex spun around at about a thousand miles per hour, flipping through files, trying to locate exactly what sort of MULDER that last "Mulder" had been. In a nerve-wracking second he found and rejected half a dozen possibles: Had it the flavor of an "I'm sorry" MULDER? No. Close though. A "You're in shock" MULDER?? Nope. "What/Where are you doing/saying/going?" MULDER?? Uh-uh. Maybe "I'll buy the donuts." MULDER?? Not since the diet. A "You're crazy." MULDER? Ummm,..not this time. Had it been a "I think you're right." MULDER? Abso-fucking-lutely no way. Scully felt him stiffen and started moving her fingers over the baby soft skin of his neck and shoulder. Game time. A caress. No doubt about it. He recognised it. Can't mistake a caress for a concerned touch. Concerned touches were doctorish and stiff and annoying and unwanted most of the time. This had been a crossing the line _feel_. He knew that because it was giving him a stiffie and his dink was crying out at his unfair request considering it's two companion's most recent injury. He gritted his teeth and winced, trying to will "Bob" into flassidity. Contrary to its own good, it refused. Scully touched him more, her fingers sending tingles through places in his body he never knew had nerve endings. Scully stroked his shoulder with her little Irish, midgit, Kung-Fu-deadly, female fingers. Then Mulder found it. The MULDER that fit. A brand new MULDER, one he'd never had the occassion to file away in his brain. Scully had used an "I like your skin." MULDER. The man in question damn near peed himself in excitment when the woman in question slid those magic fingers father inside his shirt. Tingles. Jingles. Bingles and Whingles! to every square inch of his body, inside and out. Weak at the knees. He'd heard the saying. Had always scoffed. Wimps. Weiners. Losers. Can't-get-it-up-and-keep-it-there-ers. But now... ...Weak at the knees, hips, eldows,...this bone connected to that bone, connected to the other bone, all wobbling like a skeleton hanging in a whirl wind. Weak in the brain. Weak in the heart. Weak in the bladder. Weak willed! Scully caressed and Mulder folded up like a used map, teetering slowly downward until his forehead rested on the floor. He was sweating like a pig, welcoming the feel of that nice, cool, mind-clearing floor. But Scully wasn't about to give up this newest of sports. She really hadn't meant to sack him. But since it had led to other, more interesting things... ...She squated before him on her toes, legs slightly apart, elbows resting on her knees. "Do you know how many times I've seen you naked, Mulder?" "What?" He squeeked from below. He didn't move, looking like a virgin sacrifice about to deliver himself up to Artemis. With a finger under his chin, she tipped him back up to his kneeling position and continued. "Do you know..." hooking fingers under the top of his shirt and coaxing the buttons open one by one, "...how many times I have seen you naked?" He alternately turned several hues of white and pink. "At least,..." She shook her head to indicate that it had been plenty! "...oooohh, six, seven times." "You have not." It was feeble, defeated protest of the hopelessly trapped and just made her mind purr. Momma tiger liked playing with her new toy poodle. "Oh? When I shot you, that was, I think, the first time. I mean, who do you think undressed you, sponge-bathed you and changed your two day old underwear?" Mulder's mouth had been hanging open and now he shut it. Pale. Blush. Pale. Scully undid the last button just above where his shirt was tucked into his belt. He closed his eyes and thanked every icon in Graceland that she'd stopped there - Scully had to be seeing the huge tent she'd made in his pants - and returned to caressing him, this time a hand on his chest moving in incredible circles. "Bob" was dancing to the rythm. "The second time," she went on softly, remeniscing in his ear things he'd like to not be reminded of just then. "...was in the Artic. They had you in a tub of water. You were _soaking wet_ Mulder..." She licked a finger and played with his right nipple. "...every last part of you was..._slick_." She swallowed audibly, allowing him to see her throat motions. His eyes were big, round saucers. "You had shorts on at first. You know, those snug, clinging, spandexy type. I always liked those on you..." She took a deeeeeeep breath. "...they SHOW everything." "Anyway, they had - I had - to cut those off. But I was very careful when sliding the scissors beneath the fabric and cutting it up your thigh, over your hip-bone and to the waistband. Then I had to do the other side. We - me and the other nurses - had to lift you off the guerny, raise your hips in the air, before I could pull the rags from your body." Mulder was wheezing. Breaths fast and furious. _Bob_ rap-danced. "The third time..." Scully increased the circles on his chest and added a second hand to the game, sliding it up and down his tense thigh. Right to his crotch and back down. Up and down, luxuriously, as if she were polishing the fender of a beloved '69 Porshe. "...the third time, or maybe that was the first time?,..was when you got shot in your left thigh..." She said "thigh" as if breathless: "thhhhi-i-i-g-h-h-h." Bob wanted action! "They had to cut you out of your black jeans that time. You look..." She actually smacked her lips, "so...EATable when your wear those black jeans of yours. Sometimes, when you wear them on a stakeout, that bulge just gets _inSIDE me_ somehow and I just want to unzip them and-" "Enough! God, Scully, don't you have any mercy at all??!" He was gasping for air and mentally grappling with the wild creature in his pants, trying to cage it and stop it's mindless snaking. "Ohhhh, I'm sorry, Mulder,.." she eased down onto her knees and slid both arms inside his shirt and around to his back, letting her nails state a meaning of their own. Teeny, virgin scratches. Enough to excite the skin but not break it. Nuzzled his neck with her mouth. "..I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." She sounded genuinely sorry that she'd caused him any discomfort and he relented. "I know you didn't-" Scully planted her lips on his before he could say more and gave him the longest, deepest oral examination he had ever received. No man. No man on earth with a dick and a heartbeat could have resisted that mouth and what it was doing. He'd always thought of himself as a pretty good kisser. But luscious lips was proving him just an amature. She slid across him, upper lip, lower lip (in which she liked to indulge the most), back and forth. Tongue in all the way and out, quick then slow, imitating Bob's keenst desire of the moment, until he groaned and kissed back. Giving in, Mulder gave it up. The next thing he knew the front of his pants were wet. Bob had saluted a Fuck You and gone on ahead without him. "Do you want me to stop now, Mulder?" "Too late." He said. *Pant, pant, pant*. Puppy needed a little drinkie. Scully stood and straightened the lines of her slacks, smoothed her jacket and pushed her hair back behind each ear. Clearing her throat, she surveyed her male dominion. "So, will you talk to Skinner or shall I?" Mulder shook his head, heroically raised himself to his feet. Not bothering to straighten his shirt, he all but staggered toward the office door. Scully's smirk of triumph promptly vanished as Mulder, not leaving as expected, instead closed the door and turned the lock. He turned to face her. Shirt open, toned chest feathered with male hair, skin tanned and shiney with moisture. His panting had calmed to quick breaths and that chest moved up and down with them. It moved well. It was alive and invited much closer inspection. Her breath caught. No bulge now, she noticed, as those long, runners legs strided toward her. His eyes were inscrutable yet she felt like she'd just been X-rayed. "Scully..." Scully felt blood throb in her feminine parts. Mulder's voice, already an intrument of seduction even if only sneezing, had rumbled from those eye-magnet lips like music. The lowest register of a Sax or Bass. The waves of it's energy rolled over her. It was the first time she'd ever been undressed with a voice. With a single word. "I saw YOU naked, Scully, if you recall?" //Barely.// Fuzzy images. Very cold and shivering memories. Hands on her, easing her out of an ice cocoon. Mulder's hands? God, she hoped so. Michelangelo hadn't possessed such sensitive instruments. Scully stared. Mulder had a goal nestled in his smoking eyes and it consisted of her. Her minus clothing and inhibitions. She was already trembling. He was right next to her now and leaned in to whisper the words, "You were lathered in see-through _jelly_." After that he never said another word. She had always been real quick, and good, with words. Lots of talking and counter-arguments. Myriads of "I think it's reasonable to assume..."'s and "Don't you think, Mulder, that that's blah, blah, blah..."'s. Mulder'd not always, but most often had just sat back and listened, eyes to her eyes or his eyes to her mouth, occassionally staring as if he were mezmerized, until she was done. Then, offering his choice few sentences, his expression had stated the rest. After the completion of a case, she'd almost never remember the words. Forever after, though, seared into her brain would be the expression that had been on his face. Branded with soulful eyes that said: Please, Scully. And a mouth that pouted or a lip that tucked, saying: Don't you believe me? Won't you help me? Nine times out of ten she'd crumbled and staked it all on those unforgettable features. Unusual face. Make-you-faint good looks. Little boy sexy. Mulder didn't make another sound as he stood, barely an inch >from her, forcing her eyes to see up close the throat and jaw that curved into shoulder into chest, onto abdomen and down, down until his whole flesh surrounded her thought processes. His whole body, naked beneath the shirt and pants. His entire fucking-amazing-gorgeous-sexy-masculine body that she just wanted to- -His hands gripped her shoulders firmly and pushed her against the desk's edge. It bit into her backside but she didn't care. Because he was pressing himself up against her and she could feel how hard he had gotten again. As if she were weightless, he lifted her up and deposited her on his desk, sending another stack of files tumbling to the floor with a crash. Using one hand to hold her in place, he spread her knees with the other and pressed closer, flush against her, causing her to wonder if he was going to attempt penetration right through her slacks. No, but he did unzip them in one, swift movement, causing a thrill of want to course through her blood. She was throbbing - pounding - inside from it. Her heartbeat was suddenly in her panties, thumping like a native drum. Mulder hooked two sets of fingers through her waist band, hose and panties and rolled them down her hips. Freeing one hand, he lifted her bottom (God it was heaven - the feel of that man's hand cupping her cheek!), and raised her up, one side then the other, pulling her pants off, slowly. Stepping away just long enough, he discarded the garmets in a heap, removing her shoes along with them. Then he was back, shoving that hardness between her legs into her exposed crotch like...paradise! It made her feel vulnerable and desireable and delicious. Then he put his arms around her a gave her a firm, long squeeze. A lengthly hug, his whole chest pressing into her. For some reason, that felt even more erotic than sitting there half naked. The man hadn't really done anything and yet ten years had just been erased off her sex life. A decade of mediocre. And he hadn't touched her. Not even her boobs. Most guys - that was the first thing they went for. First the blouse, then off with the bra. Then a squeeze at the ol' pillows, then a few nibbles and sucks, usually way too soon. Most guys had no clue how to really touch a woman. Going for the blouse first and leaving the pants for last did two things. First, it sunk the sex into routine. //Oh, yeah...// (Scully could recall many a date who'd performed the routine ritual), //...here we go. What's this guys name? Mark, right! Blouse first, yup. Now he'll suck the titties, Uh-huh. Yup, moving on down to the clit' - *sigh* - and tease that a bit...// (Few males understood how to manipulate that tiny appendange with any skill either) //Oop, now the tongue. What's on T.V. that I might be missing? Gotta pick up the drycleaning...// Boooriiing... Then, when a guy is hard enough and you were no near ready, they'd plunge it in and think they were rocking the planet for you. Same old, same old, boyfriend after boyfriend. And guys wondered why women only achieved orgasm when they masturbated. The second thing going for the blouse first did (a thing that never crossed most men's minds), was it gave the woman time to lose interest and change her mind. Especially if things were heading into another voyage down Bad Sex Canal. Now Mulder... He'd taken off her pants first and hadn't even undid her jacket or blouse. And _that_ was as erotic as hell. Feeling that cool air swirling around her naked legs and ass yet his swollen, hot presense pushing at her crotch through his pants. Originality. Mulder was stating honestly exactly what it was he wanted and not trying to "hint" her into it by teasing open a blouse and tweaking a nipple. That was always so patronizing. Like, as if a woman didn't _know_ what a guy wanted. Jesus, Ken didn't date Barbie for her political views. No guy in a bar said "Can I buy you a drink?" with church on his mind. "You come here often?" didn't mean "Hi, I'd like to discuss economics with you." They meant "I'm out to get layed and you - you lucky girl - get to help me!" There was nothing wrong with a guy picking up a woman in a bar, it was just that, once in a while, it would have been nice to hear: "Hi, I think you're really pretty and I'm looking for some company for the night." There was the same chance she'd say yes or no to the honesty of that as to any come-on. "Lines" were insulting. Mulder wasn't being insulting at all. He was harder than ever and making his meaning perfectly clear: He wanted to fuck her into the middle of next week. Refreshingly honest, that penis of his. And, mmmmmmm, that made all the difference. Now he started on her jacket, after agonizing delay, undoing the buttons efficiently. Next the blouse until both were flapping open. Not removing them, he slid his arms inside, around to her back and unsnapped her bra, quite expertly she thought. Mulder then slid the jacket itself off but left the blouse in place. Another score in his favor. It felt sooooo sexy to be sitting before him, legs spread, half undressed under his quiet stillness. Mulder placed his hands on her shoulders and admired her for a moment, eyes moving from bottom to top, as if her beauty, if he took it in all at once, would blind him. She felt like the most gorgeous thing in Washington. And him doing damn near nothing was causing it! Mulder's hands began to move over her and she wondered what his next move was. As seemed his pattern, it was not the usual. He didn't start sucking her breasts or even kissing her. Placing his thumbs just above and slightly to the side of her tits, he gently pressed the skin upwards, lifting them. Oh God! It was as if he wanted to suspend her breasts in mid air for all the world to see and desire. Christ - the man was a sex-fucking-magician! "Fuck me." She said. He kissed her forehead, took her hand and placed it on his crotch, inviting her participation. She all but fumbled frantically, unzipped him, pushed down his thin boxers until that gorgeous Boy-Wonder finally popped its head up and... //...Holy Jehoshophat! B-a-a-a-b-y-y!//. //Fuck me, Mulder. God! - fuck me - please FUCK ME with _that_!// Then Mulder performed his best trick of the morning. He somehow read her mind and complied immedietly. None of that wait stuff. ("You have to wait little girl, till I make you more ready") Puh-leeeeze! No. She'd spoken and he listened and respected her enough to give her precisly what she wanted exactly when she asked for it. Mulder shoved into her all the way. Filled to the brim with Muldercock, Scully sagged against his lickable chest and just mentally explored that length and girth invading her tunnel. He wasn't thrusting yet and that was okay. In fact that was perfect. It gave her time to enjoy that first feel of his size and shape and heat. (Too much thrusting too quickly and she'd lose moisture and probably some feeling, a thing about the female anatomy that was not exactly common knowledge). Mulder didn't own an ICBM. He wasn't hung like an elephant. What he was, though, was a really nice size. Not the longest or the thickest she'd ever had but he was a really, really, _really_, NICE size. Plenty for the job. When he started his movements, she wondered if she would live through it and not die of a cardio-pulmunary sex-attack. It felt like he was fucking her whole body. She was a cornered, vagina cave and he a monster-cock. No rubber either. Too late ahd she was NOT going to have him stop to snap one on. Finally, he kissed her full on the mouth while thrusting slowly in and out and that was the last move. His final play in this game of sex-chess. She wrapped her legs around his ass and pulled his hips in, making him fuck her faster and deeper. And, merciful mother, that tasty, sexy cum-ready partner of hers complied again. Check and Mate, baby! She spoke. He listened. No need to stack furniture here. Perfect communication. She doubted this little exercise would ever be included in any "How to Get Along With Your Partner" Seminar though. When Mulder's penis teased her innards just the right way, in just the right amount and just enough times, her orgasm hit and so did his. In fact, he'd been holding back for her, the sweet boy. She'd had guys have orgasms before where they'd grunted and groaned and howled their way through thirty seconds of exstasy. Mulder... Mulder didn't yelp like a coyote. His breaths came quick and fast like the little horny puppy of hers that he was. And he pumped into her her for a good minute or more, eyes shut tight, head resting on her shoulder, lungs sucking and releasing, before a single, sweet whimper escaped his lips. She clenched around him and he continued to pump in response, wanting to please her and getting pleased in return. She figured, by the time he slowed and stopped, he'd shot about a gallon into her. Her orgasm? Well, no words. It rocked, naturally. She felt like the prettiest girl at the prom. She had the hottest cunt, the roundest tits, the softest pussy and was the goddamndest most righteous fuck in the universe. That was her orgasm. Her "O" was the best "O' of all "O's". "I'm sorry I called you fat." Mulder whispered into her shoulder skin as he caught his breath and softened inside her. "You weren't. You were plump and pretty." His inflection was soft and sweet and wag-my-tail-for-you puppy-Mulderish. Total *Christmas* sincerety. She squeezed his buttocks. "I'm sorry I sacked your equipment," - //what delightful equipment, after all// - "and for the things I said." His lips were Sugar-Poutin', not fat. "How did this fight start, Scully?" "I dunno. I don't even remember but...I hope we fight more often." Mulder smiled into the hollow of her neck, withdrew, tucked himself away and zipped up. Scully jumped off the desk and got dressed. Together they tidied up the mess they had made. It was nearly noon. They each had things to do. "So?" both said, while they worked. "Dinner tonight?" Both again. "Your place?" Ditto. Mulder smiled. Scully chuckled. "_My_ place." she said. Mulder nibbled his bottom lip with that to-die-for overbite and nodded. "I'll bring the beer." "K." He liked beer. He looked like a wine guy but he drank beer. Visions of a four-eyed ten year old Mulder carrying "Brain & Mind" in one hand and a toad in the other crossed her mind. "Bring your toothbrush," she said, "but not your P.J.'s" He blushed. After just doing her like a rutting babboon on his own desk, he blushed. Scully shook her head privately. The world's one and only virginal Casenova. "K." He gathered up his jacket, buttoned his shirt and tucked in all the loose ends of office sex. Then he picked up a folder - god knew how he managed to locate the right one in the mounds of look-alikes scattered around the office - and turned towards the door. "I'd better go see Skinner." "Mulder, I was joking about that..." "I know, I know. But I've been thinking and I've decided that you were right about this case." He held up the folder in question. "It's a waste of time and I should go cancel the 302." That was it. _That_ was the reason for the fight, that stupid case. "Oh. Okay. See you at lunch?" Thank God for stupid cases. "Yeah. Uh,...Scully..." "Hmmm?" The blush once again. "Um,...huh-how w-was I?" She opened her mouth to formulate a response and instead settled for running her tongue over the edge of her upper inscisors. "Kick ass, Mulder. You were kick ass." He smiled and left the office, a spring in his step. ** Skinner's imposing, weightlifter's bulk sat at his desk. He waved Mulder inside. "Have a seat, Agent Mulder." Mulder complied. "What can I do for you?" "I just wanted to...well...cancel my request for the 302 on the Atlanta case." Skinner sat back, pen at the side of his mouth. Contimplated his agent. "I went to the wall to get you approval for that 302 and now you want to just cancel it?" He said icily. Skinner watched, facinated, as Mulder paled. "Uh, yeah. I appreciate your efforts on our behalf, sir, but Agent Scully, has..." Skinner watched, curious, as Mulder flushed to his ears. "...convinced me that it was a bad lead." Skinner nodded. Stared. "I see." Mulder looked all at once dishevelled and neat as a pin. His suite was immaculate. Tie on straight and true. His manner was messy with nary a hint of the arrogant "I'm smarter than you" Mulder he was used to. "You seem out of sorts, Agent Mulder, is something wrong?" The agent sat up straighter. "Um, no, sir. Not really. Nothing important. Scully and I, well, we had sort of a fuh-fight." Skinner, eyebrows on the rise, nodded. "What about?" Mulder slumped back down. Skinner had visions of the tall man disappearing into the cracks of the cushions if he tried sinking any lower. "Well, it was somewhat puh-personal, sir." "I'm suprised to hear this. I always assumed you two connected quite well. You fit together. Like a well oiled machine almost, even though your reports rarely agree. Is there anything I can do to smooth the wrinkles?" Staring stupidly, "No." Mulder cleared his throat. "No. I guess after five years, bumping into each other down there, getting on each others nerves, breathing down each others necks-" Skinner cut him off. "I get the picture, Agent Mulder." "Yes, wuh-well, i-it was sort of inevidable I guess." Skinner noted the stutter. //Blush, neat tie AND a stutter?// Skinner removed his glasses and sat back. "I'll see. Well, I'll cancel the 302." Mulder nodded and all but leaped out of his chair, "Thank you, sir." He headed toward the door. "Agent Mulder, a second please." Mulder stopped dead and turned to await his superior. Skinner was following, bearing down on him like an ocean liner would a dingy. "That 302 was scheduled to go into effect tomorrow. I have to say, that it's unusual on your part not to be working on a Saturday, so I can't help but be curious - just what are your plans?" Mulder turned white. "P-plans?" "Yes, plans." "Tonight, I was just...going to...." He stopped breathing at Skinner's unwavering stare. "...clean my..." Breath. Breath. "...Glock..." Breath. Breath. Breath. //Better.// "..and, and sleep in on Saturday." Skinner shoved his hands deep in his pants pockets. Muldered noted while trying not to look like he was noting that that made three big bulges down there. "Oh. Well, it's only my personal advice, but I would keep the fact that you and Agent Scully are "fighting" away from the ears of the brass. They don't look favorably upon that sort of thing. You wouldn't want to get pryed apart after all this time." Mulder all but swallowed his tongue. "No, sir. That would b-be b-bad." Skinner narrowed his eyes. "Yes. Yes it would, Mulder. You've been a pain in my ass, but..." Stared some more and stepped closer to his nervous underling. "...I'd prefer keeping you..." Mulder closed his eyes. "...under my command." Opened them and relaxed. Danger passed, Mulder cast anxious glances toward the door. Had that middle Skinner mountain just gotten bigger? "Sir?" "Yes, Agent Mulder?" "Uh, about m-my...Glock..." Skinner removed his glasses and tucked them in his shirt pocket. Stepped closer again. _Real_ close. *All the better to see you, my dear* passed through Mulders numb brain. "What about your Glock, Agent Mulder?" The agent shook his head like he'd been in a trance. "Nothing. Nothing, sir. Thank you." and turned to go. "Agent Mulder...." //Two more steps. Come on, just two more steps and you're free.// Mulder stopped reluctantly again "..don't spend all your time this weekend "servicing your gun". I expect you and Agent Scully in my office bright and early monday morning." Blanche. Flush. Blanche. "Yes, sir. I, we'll be there." Mulder took a single steps toward liberation. "One more thing, Agent Mulder." Skinner always enjoyed this little dance. Let Mulder go a step and call him back. Two steps and call him back. But making him stutter, that was even better. "Who won?" "I beg your pardon?" "You said Scully and you had a fight. Who won?" The sweating agent rubbed one thumb across his forehead. Little dents appeared between his brows as if a headache had just announced itself. "I think,.." Mulder then did something Skinner had seen only twice during the Mulder years, he smiled. "..I think we both did." ** END.