Fourth of July
Scully leaned back in her chair, raised her arms above her head and
stretched. Her muscles were getting stiff. Her stomach hurt. She had
a headache - hopefully it wouldn't turn out to be a tumor this time.
And she was horny as hell.
Glancing over at her partner, she wondered idly if he was aware of
what time of the month it was. She knew that he'd taken it upon
himself to document her menstrual cycle early in their partnership,
but ever since that pesky egg harvesting incident he'd found it
somewhat more difficult. She shrugged. He was an asshole, anyway.
Mulder licked his lips.
Okay, so he was a hot asshole.
What would he do, she wondered, if she were to rip her blouse open,
saunter over to his desk and throw herself down upon it? Her rational
self supplied an answer with admirable speed - he'd request politely
that she remove her buttocks from his computer screen. Heh.
Technology was a crock.
Scully wriggled. Hey. She wasn't wearing a bra. How had that happened?
Gradually she became aware that a large hand was rapidly moving back
and forth across her line of vision. She blinked. Oh. It was Mulder.
What did he want? Why had he moved from his former position? It was
going to be rather hard to ogle him now without his noticing.
Sound began to filter though Scully's brain. Oh. Mulder was talking.
Funny, she'd been interpreting that droning noise as a dying vacuum
cleaner. Hmmm. What was he saying?
"...lunch. Scully? Scully! Yoo hoo!"
God, she hated it when he said yoo hoo.
"What, Mulder?" Oh. She was a bitch today. Okay, that would work.
"Scully, how many painkillers have you taken today?"
Scully pondered. She couldn't quite remember. But her stomach was
still really hurting, so it couldn't have been enough. And besides,
painkillers sucked. No matter how many she took, they never worked.
One day she'd probably inadvertently commit suicide whilst trying to
get some effect out of those little white pills. And she'd still die
in pain.
Where the hell was that bra, anyway?
Mulder was talking again. His mouth was opening and closing. She
could see his tongue moving. Hmmm. How would he look with a tongue
stud? Scully closed her eyes and pictured the result. Little
fireworks started to go off behind her eyelids. Oooh. Pretty.
The fireworks started to shake. Was there an earthquake? Why was
there no circulation in her forearms? Why were her teeth rattling in
her head? Oh. Somebody was shaking her. Probably Mulder. Asshole. Hot
tongue-studded asshole.
Pissed, Scully opened her eyes. "WHAT, Mulder?" Oh yeah. Bitch today.
Cool.
"Scully, have you eaten today?"
Scully looked at her watch. "What day is it?"
"It's Wednesday."
"Oh. Then no."
Mulder sighed. "You're not supposed to take painkillers on an empty
stomach, Scully."
Scully didn't bother to fight off the wave of irritation. "I'm aware
of that, Mulder. I'M A FREAKING MEDICAL DOCTOR." Oooh. His tongue
stud should be diamond. That would be sexy.
"What did you use to wash down the painkillers?"
Scully looked around the room. There was a power point. The little
holes were just about the same size as Mulder's diamond tongue stud.
What would happen if she were to insert Stud A into Slot B? Mulder
would die, and she'd probably get electrocuted and her hair would
look like Young Einstein's. She giggled. That would be funny.
"Scully!"
Damn, it was Mulder again. Why was he still talking? Hey! Why had he
taken out his tongue stud? Maybe it had disappeared into the same
place as her bra.
She raised an eyebrow with difficulty. Damn hormones better not be
affecting her brow muscles.
"I SAID, what did you use to wash down the painkillers?"
Oh, he'd asked a question. She concentrated. Right. Step two, answer.
"Shuuuuhnnnbck."
"What?"
She cleared her throat. "Shiner Bock."
"You washed the painkillers down with BEER?"
"'s."
He took a deep breath. "Okay. Scully, you need to eat. What would you
like to eat?"
You, Mulder. Oh sweet lord, you.
"Scully! Pick a food, any food."
What food group would Mulder be in? Scully wondered. Meat?
Vegetables? Maybe he was lettuce.
"Scully, I'm going to get you some crackers. Stay there. I mean
that."
Scully absently watched his ass leave the room. Hmmm. Now he wouldn't
see her ogle him. Maybe she could undress on his desk now.
Tottering unsteadily, Scully made her way over to Mulder's desk,
looked down at her nice white shirt and solemnly waved goodbye to it.
It was going to be sacrified for a greater cause. She sniffled. Poor
shirt. It wasn't to blame for the fact that she never got laid. It
bothered her that she couldn't find her bra, though. It couldn't have
slipped down around her feet without her noticing, could it?
Scully gripped the front of her shirt firmly and prepared to pull,
when a small black object caught her eye. It was Mulder's badge. He'd
left it on his desk. Oooh.
Opening the cover, she stared lovingly at the picture inside, smiled,
cradled it in her arms, and kissed it. "Mulder," she crooned, "You
are so damn hot. Take me now."
"Scully," replied the badge.
Scully blinked and stared at the badge. "Mulder?"
"Scully! Over here."
She looked up. Oh. Mulder was back. Just when things were getting
good, too.
Mulder started walking toward her, and Scully hopped off the desk.
Trust Mulder to spoil all the fun. His tongue stud was sexy, though.
What would he look like with an eyebrow ring?
"Scully."
She blinked. Mulder was holding his hand out. Was this an invitation?
She looked up in confusion.
"Can I have my badge, please?"
"Oh. Right. Sure." She took the crackers from his other hand and
deposited the badge in his open palm. She'd have to photocopy that
picture sometime.
"Scully, why is there lipstick on my badge?"
She shrugged, and ate a cracker. Yum. Compressed salt.
Mulder looked at her for a moment, then appeared to give up. He sank
wearily into his chair. "Well, all I can say, Scully, is that you'd
better not let Skinner see you like this."
A lightbulb suddenly illuminated the dark recesses of Scully's brain.
Now she remembered!
Scully picked up the phone and dialed. Grinning, she listened to it
ring. She'd solved the mystery! Now she was happy.
"Skinner."
"Sir! Where did you put..."
"It's in Mulder's desk drawer. I didn't want to leave it lying
around."
"Oh. Thanks, Loverlips."
Scully hung up the phone, skipped over to Mulder's desk, opened the
drawer and clutched her lost bra to her chest. She felt tears well up
in her eyes and brushed them away impatiently. God, she hated PMS.
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