dustjacket by Tre

I've been Plopped!

TITLE: Gimme Shelter AUTHOR: bugs SPOILER WARNING: 'Brand X', tiny for 'all things' RATING: PG-13 for language CLASSIFICATION: H, Post-ep for Brand X, Season 7 UST, Fluff SUMMARY: While recovering at Scully's after the events of 'Brand X,' Mulder gets himself in some trouble. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS: From the sweat of Shawne's brow to you... AUTHOR'S NOTES: Plug In: Fic best viewed with Mulder v.DreamlandI. Written for Scullyfic Improv Challenge. Elements listed at end.   XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX   The bugs are crawling through my veins, digging through the tunnels of my body--seeking an escape route. They dance like hellhounds in the chambers of my lungs. I would scream, but my throat is clogged with their writhing mass. Choking, I roll back and forth in the bed, clutching at Scully's hand for comfort. It's soft and fuzzy...ahhh...Bobo Kitty. Bobo Kitty is always there for me. I snuggle my cheek against her plush tummy... Bobo Kitty? What's Bobo Kitty doing here in the hospital? I'm not in the hospital. I'm at Scully's. In her bed. What's Bobo Kitty doing in Scully's bed? I force her name out, "Skuh?" The hard 'C' tears like sandpaper at the tender tissue of my throat. Blearily, I peer around the dim room. She's drawn the blackout curtains. Her bedside clock says 10:45 A.M. She left for work two hours ago. I gulp from the water glass she set on the table by the clock. A cool hand on my brow. "Mulder, remember to take your medication." Oh, yes. My medication-- A green pill, and a pink one and the really small white one. The chalky pill sticks to the raw surface of my windpipe. Ow. That hurts. Picking up Bobo, I stare into her beady glass eyes. How did Scully find her, stashed behind four boxes of back issues of 'Omni' and under my court shoes with the loose soles? How humiliating. Must come up with a plausible explanation before she gets home. My gaze wanders her neat bedroom. No TV. Scully doesn't seem like the sort to lie in bed and watch Nick at Nite until 4 A.M. Stumbling out into the living room, I'm surprised to see a basket of unfolded laundry sitting by the door. Poor Scully. She's been unable to keep up with her chores since we got back from Winston-Salem--too busy looking after me. I smile to myself at the glimmering memories of cool hands giving sponge baths, murmured bedtime stories from old issues of Pathology Review and hand-feedings of soup. After switching on the CD player, I plop down on the sofa and draw the basket close, deciding to make myself useful. A wistful Moby tune fills the air and I immediately charge towards the stereo. I'm so sick of that CD! Scully plays it constantly in the car and any moment I can be spared... Satisfied, I flick on the TV instead, finding an episode of 'I Love Lucy'. All of Scully's clothes are so soft. Like her. Like Bobo Kitty. What tiny little panties! The seat fits over my palm like a glove. When I fold my hand shut, the pink, satin mouth says, 'Huwoo.' "Hello, Scully's pretty little bottom," I reply, and my tortured esophagus regrets it. Pink satin-encased Scully Ass...flashing at me...her terrified big, blue eyes...Skinner's broad hairy chest....wait a minute... My already throbbing head aches as my eyebrows draw together. Where did that come from? Skinner...in a pair of tightie-whities and gym socks. Gym socks just like this one. My cold, numb fingers can barely hang onto the men's sock I pull from the basket. Scully's trembling, Bad Liar voice, "What am I doing here?" Scully on Skinner's bed in his room, wearing nothing but a tee shirt, *FBI's Most Wanted*, and those pink satin panties. Skinner, by the open door, shifting his eyes from me to her. "Agent Mulder?" Not a lot of sincerity in his voice either. Pain. I need my pain pills. "Don't forget your medication, Mulder." Staggering back to the bedroom, still clutching the sock and panties, I find the bottles. Mustn't make Scully angry with me. A green pill, and a pink one and the little tiny white one... Concentrate, concentrate--I can't remember. I can't remember a lot of the details of the case in North Carolina. All those memories have been replaced by fear and pain. I stare at the sock. A really big sock. Of course. Sadly, I glance down at my long skinny feet. Big feet, big guy. Big, hairy chest. Women like that sort of thing. Rising from the edge of the bed, I stand in front of the mirror, swaying slightly. Long skinny torso. Wide swimmer's shoulders only makes my chest appear thinner. When I turn my body back and forth, my long arms flop like rubber. I attempt to fluff my few chest hairs into an approximation of Skinner's bouffant of curls, but it doesn't work. Can't look any more! Where's that sock!? I'll make the sock talk! Pulling it on my hand, I shove the end into my palm to form a mouth. I bark at it painfully, "All right you, spill it!" It remains silent. It has no tongue, that's why. Finding a pen in her bedside table drawer, I draw a tongue and add eyes and a nose over my middle finger. The nose twitches when I wiggle the finger. That's better. "Now you have no excuse, talk!" I order. He's still silent. Time to play good cop. "Okay..." His name...what's his name? "Raoul...Raoul, I understand how it is. You're weak. You're just a pawn for the big boss. But I'll protect you." Raoul shakes his head and his quaking, Spanish-accented voice whines, "No, no, no! You duh not understan'! I cunnot spill! She will kill me!" Overcome with fury, I grasp him by his white ribbed throat. "You coward! Hiding behind your fear while my life crumbles in front of you! Tell me! Tell me about Scully and Skinner!" I apply pressure on his artery until my hand goes numb. He can barely gasp out, "Ah right! I tell wu! They 're so doin' it! Wu 're ut in duh cold!" Satisfied, but heartbroken, I fall back on the bed. After all the arguing, my throat is killing me. Scully's soothing voice floats to me again. "Don't forget to take your medication, Mulder." A green pill, a pink one and that little tiny white one....oops, there it goes...under the bed...oh, to hell with it. Rolling my head over on the pillow, a tear trickles from the corner of one eye when I see Bobo Kitty. She still loves me. She's always loved me, even after I began to hope maybe, perhaps, just possibly, someone a bit larger and smoother would be joining me in bed some evening, and ashamed, I relegated her to the back of my closet. Bobo! My beloved Bobo! My queen! She needs a crown! Scully's panties will do. There. So pretty. Scully's pretty white ass...........   "Mulder? Mulder?" I open my eyes. Late afternoon sunlight, streaming through the windows, cuts at my pupils like laser surgery. Groaning, I pull Bobo Kitty over my face. That's better. "Mulder?" Her tone is going from concern to irritation. "Mulder, what are you doing?" What a stupid question. I croak, "Seeping." "Oh God, you shouldn't be talking." Hurrying to the bedside table, she finds pen and paper. Pushing aside the plush toy, she shoves them into my trembling hands. "Now, Mulder, what have you been doing?" Time to play cool. No problem. Forcing myself to focus, I carefully print, 'WHAT DO YOU MEAN?' She purses her lips and slowly looks me over, nestled in her crumpled bedding. "Let's see. Where should I start? Why are you wearing my brother's sock on your hand?" In horror, I glance down and see the sock is still on my hand. "And why have you drawn a face on it?" Slowly, I pull the violated sock off my hand. "And why is a pair of my underwear on your toy's head?" Oh, that's right. I was supposed to have an explanation for Bobo Kitty ready. 'WHAT TOY?' Her eyebrows rise. "The stuffed toy I found in your closet and brought over here to be a comfort to you." I glance at Bobo, trying to make my expression register surprise. 'I'VE NEVER SEEN THAT TOY BEFORE IN MY LIFE.' "Mulder, I found it in the back of your closet!" Time to go on the defensive. 'WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN THE BACK OF MY CLOSET?' Sighing the sigh of a thousand martyrs, she says, "I was looking for some slippers for you. I should have known you would have a stuffed cat and not slippers." I try to affect some dignity, but my numbed features are incapable of cooperating. That's okay, she looks immediately contrite. She settles down on the edge of the bed, slips the panties from Bobo's head, and strokes her fur. "She's a very nice toy. So soft. Well broken in." My eyelids fall to half-mast. Scully's soft too. Like Bobo. I stroke her wool-encased arm, and she flashes me a quick, sweet smile. My other arm, suddenly heavy, falls off my lap, landing on the sock. The sock. Skinner. My eyes squeeze shut in pain, trying to block the images out. She's talking, with that calm, but needle-sharp, questioning technique. "Mulder, why did you have my brother's sock on your hand?" Picking up the pen and paper, I force the words out. 'ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO SAY IT'S YOUR BROTHER'S?' Her nose crinkles as she thinks. "What do you mean?" 'I SAW SKINNER WEARING THIS SOCK WHILE YOU WERE SITTING ON HIS BED.' It's hard to put huffiness and quiet pain into writing. She grabs the sock from me and flops it around. "Wearing *this* sock? It's one of a generic pair of white gym socks. Why does it have to be his sock?" 'WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN HIS ROOM?' Flabbergasted, she says, "I didn't go to his room on purpose!" Without thinking, I gasp out, "Ah-hah!" She doesn't care about my pain anymore. "Ah-hah, what?" I gurgle, "Eww awit eww wew in hid bed!" "Write, Mulder! I didn't intend to go to his room, you know that!" As coldly as I can write, I say, 'PURELY UNINTENTIONALLY, YOU WERE IN A TEE SHIRT AND PANTIES-- IN SKINNER'S BED-- IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.' She looks concerned. "Mulder, we talked about this after it happened. For some reason, I appear to have begun to sleepwalk. I slipped into a strange woman's room while she was getting ice. Skinner was..." She faltered. "He was in her room. Not wanting to wake and frighten me, he steered me next door to his room and called you." Flipping wildly to a fresh sheet, I scream on paper, 'YOU EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE SKINNER WAS HAVING A ONE NIGHT STAND??!!!' Nope, I think he learned his lesson on that score! 'AND HE PUT YOU IN HIS BED TO WAIT FOR ME??!!!!' She leaps from the bed, huffing and puffing. "What are you suggesting? Wait, I know what you're suggesting, and frankly, it's insulting! How dare you suggest I would pursue a relationship with my superior!" I can't stop my fingers any better than I can stop my flapping tongue. Before I know it, I've written, 'WHEN HAS THAT STOPPED YOU? JACK? DANIEL?' and held it up for her to see. Hissing like a little red snake, she retorts, "How dare you?!" Dropping my writing implements, I find myself clutching Bobo to my chest in fear. Pacing furiously around the room, she rants, "I'm going to excuse your behavior since you obviously have suffered some trauma-related memory loss, and..." She stops by the row of uncapped pill bottles and peeks into each one. Doom in her voice, she asks, "Mulder, how many of these did you take?" I shrug and try to count on my fingers. A green pill and a pink one, and the little white one...Then a green one and a pink one and a white one and a green one-- "Mulder!" Her screech is like a drill going through my ear. I shrug again. What does it matter? My heartache can't be erased. She grips my chin, forcing me to meet her pounding, pile-driving gaze. "You realize these painkillers will cause paranoid thoughts." I shrug yet again, stroking Bobo's soft ears. She drops her hand and storms over to her dresser, yanking open a drawer. "For your information, those really are my brother's socks! He left them here on a layover in 1998. I put them on to sleep in when my feet are cold. " She slams the drawer shut and whirls to punctuate her statements by shaking a pair of sweat pants and tee shirt at me. "Now it's your turn to confess." Her wrathful gaze sweeps over Bobo. "So, what's up with the Putty Tat, Mulder?" Now that's just mean. Making fun of a guy's lovey. I take a swallow of water and hoarsely say, "It wa' in da closet when I move in." She clenches her jaw down tight, her nose crinkles up, her eyes squint, and I wait for her to stamp her foot and squeal, "OOOOOooo!" just like Doris Day, circa 1964. Instead, she chooses Doris' second trick, the stomping retreat, followed by a slamming of the bathroom door. What's she so pissed about? I wasn't being entirely untruthful. I did find Bobo when I moved in. It didn't seem right to either leave a beloved toy in a dark, dusty closet or throw it away. It was sort of a joke when I put her on my bed and then, when I started sleeping in the bed again, one thing led to another... She starts bellowing from behind the door, "If you won't share intimacies, Mulder, fine! I'll scare the shit out of you, and share one of mine!" I exchange wide-eyed glances with Bobo. She flings the door open, surprising man and toy, causing Bobo to fly from my fingers and bounce across the floor. She returns, and stands before me, hands on her hips. She's changed clothes, and nervously runs her fingers through her hair, stirring the stiff top layer. "Ya?" I ask. Flicking her gaze away, she addresses her wall very seriously. "After I got over the shock of sleepwalking, I couldn't help but notice I had gone to room 12." She pauses, in that way women do when they expect you to guess the right answer. Thank god for my sore throat. I get away with just raising an eyebrow. Glancing down at my hopeful face, then away, she says, "And you were in room 21." Her words hang in the electric atmosphere, then drift slowly earthward with the golden dust flakes. Clumsily, I reach out for her, "Aw...Skuh..." She backs up quickly, stumbling over Bobo, waving her hands, her face angry again. "Don't you, 'aww' me! You were awfully quick to put me in Skinner's bed! You can just kiss my lily-white ass!" she rails as she bends over to pick up the toy. Said ass hovers in front of my wavering focus, and the loose waistbanded sweats slide down just a bit...to reveal the very edge of the valley between those delicious mounds... Kiss it...Kiss it... Guided by the whisper in the air, my hands glide to their objective, yanking the fabric away, and my suddenly leaden head falls easily onto its target...and keeps plunging to the floor as she jumps, cursing me in some very fine sailor talk. From that moment on, things happen very quickly. She has me dressed, my bag packed, and both of us in her car, driving, fast, fast, fast down 95, so fast I have to ask her to stop, could she please, and disgrace myself before she tears off again. Whirling me through the doors and halls, she has me deposited in my own bed, and a large, humpbacked woman, Nurse Brackett, at my bedside within the hour. I sit propped up against the headboard. Her cool, efficient words swim through my fog like headlights as I concentrate very hard on blinking enough to keep my eyes lubricated. "Here are his medications. At no time allow him access to them. He's happy if he has the TV on and orange juice. I wouldn't recommend putting one of his videotapes in. Oh, and--" I glance up, and am horrified. From my bag, she pulls Bobo. "And this seems to help him sleep." Nurse Brackett merely raises her hairless eyebrows. "Yes, Doctor." Scully strides over to my bedside, plops Bobo into my waiting arms, and glares down at me. I croak, "Sorro, Skuh-ee." She sighs, but, surprisingly, drops a quick, warm kiss on my lips. "Fool," she murmurs as she draws back. Briefly, she sucks her lower lip into her mouth while staring at mine. Nodding, I can only say, "Sorro," again. Turning and heading for the door, she doesn't give me a backward glance as she says, "I'll see you at the office when you've been passed for duty again. Avoid talking until then." The room dims slightly when her bright head rounds the corner and is gone. Nurse Brackett, after some fussing over my blankets, leaves me as well. Cocking my head, I hear the groan of the couch springs and my TV turn on. I wait and then I can make out the gentle wheezing snores of my nurse through the thin walls. Remembering my orders from Scully to rest my voice, I decide I'll converse Snoopy-like, with big bubbles over my head. I confront Bobo. (You were *no* help!) I sternly state in the first bubble. She has no answer, naturally. Slowly, my hand slips under the covers to fumble in the pocket of my sweat pants for my prize. With tender care I pull the pilfered pink panties over her plush head. (But for now, you're still my queen.) floats to Bobo.   ((((((!The Fluffy End!))))))   Challenge Elements: 1. A sock puppet made out of one of Skinner's gym socks. --Dilby 2. Scully, finding a stuffed animal of some sort, hidden in the back of Mulder's closet - he must be protective of it, even though it was hidden. --Brynna 3. Scully wakes up standing in a stranger's bedroom wearing nothing but a tee shirt and undies. --Scullyfu 4. You. In whatever capacity you wish. --Ursa Major 5. Scully offering Mulder her lily-white ass to kiss. --Ambress     pass on some fluffy feedback! close window to return to Rookery dustjacket tour | PE | Index