TITLE: Color Commentary WRITTEN BY: Obfusc8er CLASSIFICATION: Um, let's see...MSR Pseudo-smut/BDSM/implied slash/parody/badfic humor. I think that just about covers it. RATING: NC-17, just in case (three slightly naughty words included) SPOILERS: Not a one. DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Scully, and Krycek belong to 1013/Fox. I retain all rights to myself. SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully put in their two cents. DEDICATION: This is for all the Smutskateers at Mulder's Refuge. Written in response to a gauntlet thrown down by the ever creative and snow-white-pure Mulderache. Welcome to the Dark Side. ;) Mulder sits at his desk with his enormous feet propped on top of a stack of neglected paperwork. He holds an open file, scanning the contents with rapt attention. The pictures inside elicit a puzzled look. He holds the file closer, then farther away. He sighs. "Where *did* I leave those glasses?.." He pulls open the top drawer of his desk. Finding nothing but old sunflower seed hulls, he pushes it shut again. He resumes staring at the contents of the file. He turns it ninety degrees clockwise and tilts his head. He frowns. He turns it ninety more degrees clockwise and blinks with surprise. His jaw falls open and his eyebrows go up. Mulder hears his office door squeak open and jumps in his seat, madly trying to hide the issue of Hot Skin Monthly that he keeps inside the spare file folder. There is no place to put it! His desperate mind comes up with a solution as he sees Scully appear from behind the door... He jams the folder into the "Procrastination" stack beneath his feet, and tries to look as nonchalant as possible. Scully eyes him suspiciously. Crap! She noticed! He gives her his best Cheshire smile. "What were you doing, Mulder?" She crosses her arms. "Just...setting the mood." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ MULDER: Oh, give me a *break*! I wouldn't say that! SCULLY: I noticed that you didn't object to anything before now... MULDER: Well, not like it's a big secret anymore. SCULLY: Don't try to pin that on me. It's your own fault. Okay. Continue. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Scully lifts one eyebrow. "The mood, huh?" Mulder stands up and walks around the desk. "I'm just saying that I'm...grateful for what you did earlier, getting me out of that mess. *Very* grateful." He gazes down into her eyes and gently places one hand on the side of her face, urging her closer. Both of their heads tilt slightly, and longing lips meet. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ MULDER: Oooh! I like where this is going! SCULLY: Shhhhhh! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Mmmm." Scully closes her eyes as she slowly pulls away. "You know, Scully, we don't have anything scheduled for..." he looks at his watch, "another hour. We could find something, uh, creative to do." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ MULDER: Oh please. My lines aren't *that* recycled! Who the heck is writing this? I mean, really? Must be a man. SCULLY: I don't know about that. If a man was writing this, it'd probably be *over* already. MULDER: ...You have a point there. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "I'll just make sure we don't have any interruptions." Scully walks over to the door and locks it. "Good idea." Mulder finds his jacket hanging from the back of his chair. He pulls his cellphone out of the left pocket and turns it off. Scully pivots and faces him, taking her own jacket off. "It's been a hard day, huh?" She closes the gap between them, a gleam in her eye. "Oooh, Mulder. Is that your Sig, or are you just happy to..." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ SCULLY: Wait just a minute! I would *never* say something that contrived! MULDER: No comment. SCULLY: Oh, be quiet, peanut gallery. MULDER: Ow! SCULLY: Serves you right. MULDER: Whatever. I really wish this would just skip to the good part. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mulder and Scully conjugate like a pair of rabbits on the desktop, effectively taking care of all of Mulder's paperwork in the process. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ MULDER: Hehe. SCULLY: You *would* like that. We've been written into this same situation at least three times this week. How about something different? MULDER: Spoilsport. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ There is a knock at the door. The pair pause and look up. Another, more insistent pounding rattles the door. Mulder and Scully quickly scamper off of the desk and try to quickly re-arrange each others' clothes to some semblance of normalcy. There is a quiet moment, then the door falls in with a loud BANG! Krycek follows through with his kick, spinning to see the pair's frazzled appearance. He looks at Mulder with a predatory grin. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ MULDER: No. No, no, no. SCULLY: This wasn't really what I had in mind when I said "different"... KRYCEK: Oh, give me a break! It's the only way I ever get in a story anymore! MULDER: Tough. Deal with it. KRYCEK: Jerk. SCULLY: Don't make me kick your butt. It won't be pretty. ...Oh no. I shouldn't have said that... MULDER: No, you shouldn't have. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Krycek purrs in his lowest voice, "So, did anyone bring the...accessories?" Mulder and Scully look at each other with startled expressions. "Hmmm," Mulder says reflectively, "I think Skinner had them in his office the last I knew." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ MULDER: Okay. This is just wrong. KRYCEK: Oh, quit trying to act all innocent, Mulder. MULDER: Out. Now. KRYCEK: But... SCULLY: *NOW*. KRYCEK: Okay, okay. I'm going, already. SCULLY: I hope our writer can think of something better than *this*. MULDER: I don't know how they come up with this stuff... SCULLY: A nice, normal day would be good *once* in a while. MULDER: Yeah, right. And it'll start raining sleepingba... SCULLY: No. Don't give them any ideas. MULDER: Here's an idea...Why don't we ever get to eat? When do we get to use the restroom? They expect us to procreate twenty-four hours a day on an empty stomach and a full bladder... SCULLY: Yes. Not exactly the most romantic of situations. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "I'll be right back. I need to visit the Little Agents' Room," Mulder explains. He wanders out into the hallway. "Okay. I'll be waiting." She takes the opportunity to search through her purse. She finds what she's looking for, and hides it behind her back. Moments later, Mulder re-enters the room looking much more refreshed. "Uh, what about the door?" he asks uneasily. "Just set it back up. We'll deal with that later." He does as instructed and returns to stand before her, holding her close. "Now, Take off your shirt, Mulder." He does so, looking puzzled. Scully produces a can of whipped cream from behind her back. He smiles broadly. She dispenses a handful of cream, then proceeds to rub it all over his chest. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ SCULLY: Eh, that's not a bad idea, but again, we've done the whipped cream angle plenty of times before. MULDER: Well *I'm* certainly not going to complain. SCULLY: The whipped cream gig is getting stale. How about something else? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Scully finishes fastening the handcuffs on Mulder and adjusts his hood. "No peeking." He cannot reply around the gag. His breathing quickens; his chest strains beneath the leather straps of his harness. His body tenses in anticipation. Scully cracks the whip down sharply across his gluteus maximi. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ MULDER: Stop! This is *awful* writing. I mean, we've both been reduced to mere sexual objects. There is no plot *whatsoever*! SCULLY: Actually, that wasn't so bad... MULDER: Could I at least have a thoughtful line here and there? I *demand* some character development. SCULLY: It's way too late for that now, Mulder. MULDER: It is, isn't it? Well, I quit. I have better things to do. WRITER: Oh yeah? SCULLY: Uh-oh... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Scully, I...don't know what to say. I'm sorry. I know it's me, not you. It's not your fault." "Does this happen, or, I should say, *not* happen often?" "I really...I have no idea why this has to happen now." A sigh. "It's okay, Mulder. It probably happens to every guy at some point." "It worked fine earlier this morning..." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ MULDER: That is *NOT FAIR*! SCULLY: Hahahahaha. MULDER: It's not funny at all. SCULLY: You *asked* for it, Mulder. Really. MULDER: Miss Perfection. SCULLY: Glad you noticed. MULDER: You have your moments, too, you know... WRITER: He's right...for once. SCULLY: Oh brother. MULDER: Hey! Just what are you implying? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Scully, I just...need you now." Rhythmic breathing as he nuzzles her. She turns her face away coldly. "You shouldn't have ditched me today. You know better than to run off into dangerous situations without backup...without even *calling* me first! Really, you are an adult, or so it appears. You ought to be able to take care of yourself. What would you do without me? I sometimes wonder how you manage to dress yourself in the morning..." "I wouldn't mind if you helped with that, too..." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ MULDER: Bitchy, bitchy, bitchy, Scully! SCULLY: Don't push your luck, Mulder. The writer won't be here to protect you forever... MULDER: Oooh. Is that a threat, or a promise? SCULLY: Maybe both, depending on how you play your cards. MULDER: What do you say we get out of here and write our *own* story. SCULLY: That's the best idea I've heard in a long time. So long, sucker. WRITER: Hey! Come back! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End