mirror-textfiles.com/sf/XFILES/j&f2

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Subject: NEW > Jeans & Fishnets < (2/4)
Date: Thu, 7 Sep 1995 19:45:03 -0500 (CDT)


	_The X-Files_: all characters copyright Chris Carter and Ten
Thirteen Productions. They shouldn't have made up something so cool if
they didn't want us to write fan fiction about it. However, i don't
really want to upset them, so no infringement upon their copyrights is
intended.

	Blue Jeans and Fishnet Stockings (2/4)
		An X-Files Story
		   by Summer

	Between them, they had diminished the pile
of papers to a thin stack when Mulder's stomach
began reminding him how long it had been since
breakfast.
	"Next time, we've got to keep the budget
up to date," Scully groaned, pulling her glasses
off. "Procrastinating just makes it that much
harder once we finally get to it."
	"Who's been procrastinating? We've been
busy," he pointed out.
	"I know, I know. I don't even want to
think about how long this would've taken me on
my own. Thanks, Mulder."
	"My pleasure." He stretched and rubbed his
eyes. "How much more do you think we have?"
	"Shouldn't take much more than half an
hour to finish up."
	"I don't know about you, but I'm starving.
I propose we take a break and make a run for the
border."
	"Taco Hell? Do you know what those
preservatives and fillers do to your body,
Mulder? I have some autopsy pictures if you'd
like to find out."
	"Thanks, but no. What do you suggest?"
	"How about an expedition to the grocery
store? I'll fix-- oh, dammit, I forgot about the
breakfast dishes!"
	Mulder shrugged. "So wait 'til after lunch
and we can do all the dishes at once."
	"We?"
	"Sure. If you're going to go to the
trouble of making dinner, the least I can do is
help clean up."
	"You helped with the budget, you're
helping with the dishes..." She grinned slyly.
"Good karma, huh?"
	"I'd really like to see it, Scully."
	"An exercise in futility."
	"Story of my life," he answered cheerily.
	Scully closed up her laptop and put it
aside. "Okay, a compromise. When we get the
groceries, we'll rent Rocky Horror so you can
see the original movie."
	"But I don't get to watch your tape?"
	"Would you really wear fishnets to work?"
she countered.
	"That sounds suspiciously like a dare," he
grinned, eyes sparkling. "If I do, can I see
it?"
	Scully laughed. "No, it's not a dare, and
you're not getting the tape no matter what
bizarre stunt you pull, so don't try it..."
	"I'm telling you, Scully, I won't give up.
I'll bug you about it until I get to see it."
	"And if I let you see it, you'll bug me
about it until I go postal at you," she
retorted. "Forget it!" Scully stood up and
rolled her shoulders, yawning. "Now that you
brought it up, I'm getting hungry too. Let's
go."
	"What does your T-shirt say?" Mulder
asked, shutting off the stereo as she grabbed
her purse.
	She straightened the front; her shirt
featured a large drawing of roughly cartooned
women soaring on feathery wings in the air. 
The caption was a little hard to read.
Scully told him, "Women fly when men aren't
looking."
	"They do?"
	"That's what the shirt says."
	"Cute. I like it. Where'd you get it?"
	"Melissa gave this to me for Christmas."
Scully laughed. "This, and a book about finding
your perfect mate through psychic attunation.
Just like her to give me a man-hunting book and
a feminist T-shirt at the same time. Thank you,"
she said as Mulder opened the door for her. "And
then she gave me that James CD. I was sure I'd
hate it, but it's one of my favorite albums now.
Two out of three ain't bad," she concluded as
she turned her key in the lock.
	"Well, if you liked two of her presents,
why not give the third one a chance? I'm
guessing you haven't actually read it or
anything like that."
	"Psychic attunation?" Scully eyed him
warily as they got into his car. "Don't tell me
you think it's valid."
	"I think you could look at it," he
said as he ducked his head and folded himself
into the driver's seat.
	"Mulder! Those jeans--"
	He paused. "What?"
	Scully waved a discreet hand at them. "The
seam is out," she scolded.
	He scrutinized his jeans; the inner seam
of the left leg had given, leaving a small tear
halfway up his thigh. "That? That's nothing."
Mulder smirked and seized the denim, carefully
tugging until the hole gaped down to his knee.
	Scully shook her head disapprovingly. "If
you're going to do that, why not just cut the
legs off?"
	"Got a pair of scissors?"
	She pressed her lips together again, this
time with bemused irritation. "Just drive,
Mulder."
	He fumbled with the keys. "Anyway. Why not
give Melissa's methods a shot? Your sister's out
there, but she's really pretty shrewd. It must
run in your family."
	"Chores AND flattery? Mulder, I'll never
let you see that tape just so you'll keep being
this accommodating when I dangle it in front of
you," Scully grinned.
	"Carrot on a stick?"
	"Whatever works."
	He started the car. "What's up, Doc." He
moved to push his tape into the car stereo; it
had popped out automatically when the car was
turned off.
	"Wait--" Scully held up her hand and
turned up the radio. "I love this song."
	He shrugged affably and drove, listening
and casting an occasional sidelong look at his
partner as she nodded in time with the music.
"The angel opens her eyes, the confusion sets in
before the doctor can even close the door.
Lightning crashes, an old mother dies. Her
intentions fall to the floor. The angel closes
her eyes. The confusion that was hers belongs
now to the baby down the hall. Oh, I feel it
coming back again, like a rolling thunder
chasing the wind, forces spooling from the
center of the earth again, I can feel it..."
	"What did you have in here, anyway?"
Scully shuffled through his tape tray and came
up with the empty case. "Warren Zevon?"
	"One of the most underrated
singer/songwriters around. No one listens to
really GOOD music," Mulder told her.
	She rooted around in the tray again.
"Peter Gabriel... Elvis Costello... Enigma...
Pink Floyd... Dead Can Dance... XTC... Nine Inch
Nails?" she asked distastefully.
	"What's wrong with Nine Inch Nails?"
	"I've only ever heard the song about `you
bring me closer to God'. It didn't impress me."
	"That's a great song," he asserted. "Great
album. Great musician."
	"I'll take your word for it. 10,000
Maniacs, huh?"
	Mulder rounded the corner and slowed to
coast into the supermarket parking lot. "You
have every Verdi opera on CD. There's no
accounting for taste."
	"I wasn't criticizing, Mulder-- I happen
to like 10,000 Maniacs."
	He zipped into a parking spot and shut
down, unhooking his seat belt with one hand
while he twirled his keys in the other. "I
wasn't criticizing either. Just an observation.
I did notice one CD we have in common."
	"Oh?" Scully pivoted and slid her legs out
of the car, feeling momentarily childish until
she stretched enough to get her feet on the
ground.
	"Sarah McLachlan."
	"I have Dark Side of the Moon on
cassette," she said.
	"And I like the Smiths. See?" He hit the
power lock and firmly shut the car door. "No
accounting for taste. So what role-playing game
did you play in college?"
	"What?" Scully bent to pick up a crumpled
soda can from the cracked asphalt, dropping it
into the trash can by the entrance as they went
inside.
	"You mentioned that everyone ends up
playing an RPG in college. What'd you play?"
	"Oh! Dungeons and Dragons. Ravenloft. I
was a vampire." Scully wrestled a shopping
basket out of the rack, then turned to her
partner, who was staring at her, frozen.
"Mulder? What is it?"  He looked stricken,
gazing at her impenetrably. "Are you okay?" she
asked uneasily.
	He shook it off with visible effort.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just-- had a weird second 
there."
	She clearly wasn't convinced, but
thankfully Scully didn't push him; she just
nodded, then touched his arm, lightly guiding
him to the first aisle. "Sure you're okay? You
look pretty shaken up." 
	He shrugged, regarded her with veiled
eyes-- signals she'd learned to interpret over
the months as indicative of pain and
protectiveness. Often she saw all too much of
both in him. "Hey," she said softly, just
letting her voice and her eyes tell him she was
there for him.
	Mulder dredged up a smile. "I
picked a great place to have a breakdown, huh."
	"You're entitled," Scully assured him. The
quiet strength and compassion Mulder had come to
depend on from her straightened his shoulders
now.
	"Okay. I'm okay now." He summoned another
crooked smile. "And I'm still starving. Let's
get some food."

 	
	Mulder wasn't much for shopping. He amused
himself by psychoanalysing people according to
the contents of their carts while his partner
accumulated various items and stacked them in
the basket he carried.
	Scully dropped something into his hands.
"You can snack on those while I'm making lunch,
since you're so famished," she reasoned as he
rattled the plastic bag of sunflower seeds.
"Just don't leave the hulls all over the place."
	"I'll be good," he promised as he followed
her to the condiments section. "So what are we
having, Chef Scully?"
	"Lemon pepper chicken sandwiches," she
answered, selecting a jar of honey mustard sauce
from the shelf. "So healthy, your arteries will
probably go into shock."	
	"Healthy?" His face screwed up with
exaggerrated disgust. "I don't do healthy."
	"It's really good. You won't even notice
that it's good for you. My mom used to make
these a lot, and my brothers loved them."
	"Your brothers are in the armed forces,
Scully. They like anything they don't have to
stand in line for."
	"The menu is non-negotiable," she smiled.
"But we'll splurge on popcorn."
	"Popcorn is a splurge?" he asked
incredulously, tromping over to the
microwaveables. "I thought it was one of the
four food groups."
	Scully guessed, "Popcorn, pizza, frozen
dinners, and...?"
	"Chinese takeout. What's this? Sacrilege!"
	"What?"
	"Healthy popcorn!" Mulder mourned. "Low
fat, low sodium, low everything." He shook the
box. "There shouldn't be anything IN this."
	"Sort of like Diet Caffeine-Free Mountain
Dew, huh?"
	"Oh, you can joke, it's you and your
minions who're responsible for pillaging the
shelves in the name of staying healthy."
	"Calm down, Mulder. We're getting
unhealthy popcorn. Now where's the Redenbacher's
Movie Theater kind? It's in a yellow package."
	He scanned the shelves. "Hey, there's some
cheese popcorn on the bottom shelf," he noticed.
"I didn't know they had that for microwaves."
	"How much is it?" Scully asked, comparing
prices on the two boxes in her hands.
	"Can't tell..." Mulder dropped to a squat
to find out. The move was accompanied by a nasty
ripping sound. He bolted straight upright at
once and whirled around, then tilted his head
back and deliberately banged it against the
shelf a few times.
	"I hope for your sake that was the knees
of your jeans tearing open further--" Scully
suppressed a chuckle. It was pretty clear from
his expression that he hadn't fared so well as
that.
	"If only I were that lucky." Mulder's
mouth drew up in a gull's-wing shape somewhere
between a sneer and a pout. He twisted in an
attempt to assess the damage. "I can't really
tell how bad it is..."
	Scully counted to ten, holding in a
massive fit of giggles. She mustered her most
clinical, professional tone. "Let me see."
	Mulder ran his hands over his reddening
face and complied. Scully clapped a hand over
her mouth. The seam had split right down the
middle of the seat of his jeans, revealing
bright red fabric decorated with classic Mickey
Mouse figures.
	Mulder hastily backed up against the
shelves again. "Well?"
	"If only you were wearing blue denim
boxers."
	He cringed. Scully shook with restrained
merriment until she finally couldn't help
herself and let go, gasping with laughter and
clutching her arms across her waist. "I'm sorry-
- sorry, Mulder--" she choked out past
convulsive giggles. "It's just--"
	"Oh, I know," he said grimly, "it's
hilarious. By all means, enjoy the moment. My
misfortune is your entertainment."
	That only made her laugh harder. Mulder
watched as she buried her face in her hands.
Much as he hated to admit it, she was right. It
was funny. A chuckle escaped him. Scully peered
up at him through her fingers. He tried to
maintain his dour demeanor to no avail-- within
moments they were laughing together hopelessly.
Mulder slid down the shelves to sit on the
floor, drawing his long legs up so as not to
block the aisle. Scully knelt beside him, trying
to be sympathetic, and instead continued to
giggle, her eyes watering. Every time they
managed to wind down and get control, they'd
look at each other and one of them would lose it
again, spurring them both into another bout of
laughter.
	Finally, sides aching, Mulder took a deep
breath. "Okay, okay. How am I gonna get out of
here?"
	"Walk," Scully suggested, a few stray
giggles still getting out now and then.
	He shot her a sour look, belied by the
snicker that overcame him. "Yeah, well, I don't
particularly want to display Mickey and friends
to the general public."
	"I'm sure the general public is grateful
for that."
	Mulder shifted; the lineoleum floor was
cold. "Could be worse."
	"How?"
	"I could be wearing fishnets and a garter
belt."
	She sniggered. "Could you?"
	"It's within the realm of possibility.
After all, the FBI has a tradition for that sort
of thing dating back to J. Edgar Hoover."
	"Stop," Scully pleaded. "If I laugh any
more, I'll die!"
	"Just don't split a seam," he muttered.
She curled up, forehead against her knees,
giggles quaking her shoulders. A well-dressed
elderly woman wheeled her cart past them,
staring disapprovingly.
	"Don't mind us," Mulder said. "We're just
on drugs."
	The woman hurried away to be replaced by a
teenager whose hair was partly shaved off and
partly dyed black, hanging long into his face.
He was joined by a girl with burgundy-tinted
hair; rings rimmed her ears and one delicate
gold stud pierced her nose. The kid scratched
his chin and tugged at his Nine Inch Nails t-
shirt. "You guys okay?" he asked.
	Scully recovered herself and sighed.
"Yeah, thanks. My friend here just had a bit of
an accident."
	"Aoh," the kid said, nonplussed.
	The girl snapped her gum and nodded toward
another aisle. "The Depends are over there," she
said helpfully.
	Mulder leaned his head back, wincing.
"Thanks a lot."
	"Okay, no, really," the girl said, "what
happened?"
	Mulder just shook his head. Scully
answered, "His jeans ripped."
	"Right, well, that's not 'zactly a big
deal, I did mine on purpose." The young man
indicated the savaged knees of his oversized
jeans.
	"In back," Scully clarified, biting the
inside of her lip to keep from laughing again.
	"Ooooh," the teenager said. "That sucks."
	"Hang on," said the girl, disappearing
around the corner.
	Mulder looked helplessly at his partner.
"What am I gonna do?"
	The girl returned and brandished a grocery
flyer under Mulder's nose. "Here, you can hold
that behind your back to cover up," she offered.
	Mulder accepted the flyer with a very
startled, "Thank you!"
	"No problem," said the girl. She pulled at
the young man's arm. "C'mon baby, we gotta get
to the Abyss."
	"Good luck." The teenager lifted a hand to
them and left with the girl.
	Mulder and Scully exchanged surprised
looks. "Remind me never again to say a word
against America's youth," he said at last.
	Scully got her feet under her and stood,
offering her partner a hand. He took it and
hauled himself up, then clasped his hands behind
his back holding the flyer. "Will this work?" he
asked cautiously.
	"Looks fine," she assured him.
	"Good. Let's get out of here."


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end of part 2/4