Title: Hurricane and Red Rain (1/1) Authors: FBI_Woman & Tissa Rating: R - not mild language at all (we're baaaad) Category: Story/Romance/Humor Keyword: MSR Summary: Out of all enemies, Mulder faces the worst one: PMS!Scully. Spoiler Warning: just a little thing from "The Beginning". You won't die if you read it, trust us. Archive: yes, just let us know, so we can visit our little one. ***** Disclaimer: Mulder belongs to Scully. Scully belongs to Mulder. PMS belongs to Scully. 10/13 Productions belongs to CC, though the guys over there don't seem to understand the first 2 statements of this disclaimer. Fabi: What we gonna do tonight? Tissa: a fanfic to take over CC's TV show! ***** Our very special thanks to CW for editing our stories. Authors' notes at the end. ***** Feedback: Yes, please! Send us a note on what you thought about our fic. We are nice ladies, unless *we* got PMS. :) *********************** Hurricane And Red Rain By FBI_Woman & Tissa *********************** I was just fine yesterday and I bet I would be just fine this morning too, if he hadn't come over. Damn, today is Wednesday, we're in the middle of the week and I have a job to attend, a boss to report to and a schedule to accomplish. A big one. Kersch ordered a detailed report about this damn case we're working on and I had two autopsies to perform before I presented it to him. Not to mention the appointment at lunch I set up with mom a week ago and the annual lecture I was supposed to give at Quantico about actualization in Forensic Pathology. Of course Mulder wouldn't even offer to make the report for me. Well, I wouldn't have accepted it anyway, not one like this. I just can't trust him with expense and case conclusion reports: the man can't be convincing even to a three year old child, much less to the sucker now known as Mr. and Mrs. Spooky's boss. What pisses me off is that if I complain about it, all I'll get from Mulder is that smart-ass grin and an ironic "Good luck, G-Woman!" Bastard. I don't know what else to do to make him understand that I don't want him to come over on weekdays. I mean, I want it, but I can't permit myself the luxury of not doing the work I bring home, I have bills to pay by the end of the month, dammit. And I confess, when Mulder comes over I can't work. Not on office stuff, anyway. So, here I was last night, working on my laptop and thinking hard on what the hell I could say at the fucking lecture. There's no actualization in Forensic Pathology, unless they change the laws or we start performing autopsies on living people. It could be interesting, by the way. I would even know how to start. Or, whom to start with. Then he just showed up with a bottle of wine. Mulder never brings wine. I should've ditched him out right away. Anyway, I didn't. Guess I don't need to say where it all ended up. ***** Okay, now I know I shouldn't have come over yesterday night. I mean, Scully had a big day today. I knew it last night. I knew she had not one but two autopsies to perform, a lunch date with her mom and some important lecture to give at the Academy. But I was just so lonely at my apartment that I didn't even think, I just got out, bought some wine and came to her place. I wasn't planing on staying over, but the fact is nowadays it's taking a lot to get me away from Scully. And if it is WineBuzz!Scully I just can't resist. Sometimes her bedroom is too far away. Anyway, since we were already in bed, half asleep, I thought it wouldn't be a problem if I just took a nap. In an hour or two I would wake up and leave Scully to her big day today. You see, Scully and I have an agreement for staying overs. I set the alarm for her, she wakes up, turns it off, and goes start coffee and take a shower. I stay in bed while she's in the bathroom. Usually she wakes me up with a kiss and a cup of coffee. While she's changing, I make us breakfast, my world famous pancakes, French toast, scrambled eggs and bacon. Okay, it's not world famous. But Scully loves it anyway. My plan was simple: I would take a nap, wake up, set her alarm and go home. The thing is, this is a plan in which every action depends on the previous one. And it turned out my nap became a full night's sleep. I didn't wake up. I didn't set the alarm. I didn't go home. I was woken by a "Mulder, get the fuck up NOW!". Jesus H. Christ. It should be illegal to be startled awake like that. I swear, my heart made its way up my throat. It was beating so fast I was sure I was gonna have a cardiac arrest. The thing is, Scully doesn't curse unless she's got PMS. And man, she had it bad today. Let me tell you this: PMS!Scully is a bitch in high heels. An A-Class, High Standard, One of a Kind Bitch, who's got not an inch of patience, sense of humor or kindness. If everything is fine, I can handle her. I just have to keep my mouth shut and agree with anything she says. It's a dirty job, I know, but I gotta do it, for my life's sake. Don't mess with PMS!Scully. I don't. Not consciously, anyway. Guess I don't have to say "everything is fine" didn't exactly fit this morning scenario. There was no way out for me. I was at the mercy of Scully's out of control hormones. So I rose and looked out the window. The sun was high in the sky. We were late. I looked back at Scully and she had this pained look, and her hands were on her lower back. She had cramps. I was in deep trouble. ***** This morning I was woken by this damn fucking ripping pain in my lower back and tummy. Something was wrong. Shit. I wasn't supposed to be woken by this. The alarm clock. What the hell had happened to the alarm? FUCK!!! Oh yes, of course, the bastard hadn't set it. I didn't even need the effort to roll on my side, I just reached my arm across the bed to assure what I already knew. The son of a bitch had slept over. Not to mention the cramps. How fitting! Now I admit I'm starting to believe in conspiracies. ***** Since Scully didn't start coffee, I decided I should as well do it myself. We didn't have time for a big breakfast, but I thought toast and scrambled eggs were in order for Scully. Huge mistake. As soon as she smelled the eggs, she came into the kitchen and with her hands on her waist, glared at me and just yelled "We have no fucking time for breakfast!" To make matters worse, the toaster decided it was the perfect time to go out of order, and while I was trying to fix it up, I forgot the eggs in the frying pan. Needless to say, they burnt. Great. I was digging myself a bigger hole. Scully got back in the kitchen, and poured herself a cup of coffee. I gave her what I thought was my warmest smile and warned her "Careful, sweetheart, coffee's hot.", but that only got me another glare followed by the standard "Whatever". She spotted the burnt eggs and asked me "You gonna eat this shit?" Right. What does a grown up man, who's got a degree in Psychology and is currently working as a Special Agent for the FBI, do in a time like this? Yeah, he eats the shit. So to speak. At least I got the toaster back to work. ***** Mulder, you're in trouble. I spent the whole morning cursing the asshole for that. I hate being late, I hate having to hurry up to get ready for work and to get things done at work. Today couldn't have started worse. I had a big day, lots of things to do, and what happens? The dickhead didn't set the alarm and there I was, rushing madly through my apartment, trying to catch up with almost one hour of delay. Well, at least I would have a decent breakfast. One good thing about Mulder's staying overs is that he makes me breakfast. It's something I would never tell if we hadn't gotten together. People, Mulder can cook!!! Hell, I should keep my mouth shut. As I left the shower and opened the bathroom door I immediately felt the nauseating, repulsive smell of something burning. Realization flashed through my mind, Mulder let MY scrumbled eggs burn. Shit, it impregnated the whole apartment. And it also gave me a sickness. Now what? Mulder wanted to piss me off? Man, he did it! He did it well! What could I say to get the damn man out of here? Certainly it wasn't that I got sick because of the goddamnn eggs, that would only make things worse. You know, Mulder can be really annoying when I get sick. Last time I had a cold, he would spend the entire day giving me phone calls just to check on me, until he finally came over and stayed by my side, practically breathing on my neck. This surely wasn't what I needed at the moment. Not at all. I had to do something and get Mulder out of my apartment before something worse happened, if that was possible. And with a mischievous, triumphant grin on my face, furious-Scully mode on, I walked towards the kitchen, where the source of my morning misfortune was. This morning I can say I had not scrambled, but screwed eggs for breakfast. No. Actually I didn't. I wouldn't risk putting my precious mouth on that disgusting stuff that looked more like a little mound of crap. Oh God. "You know, Mulder, you should get the fuck out of here," I mumbled, turning on my heels and leaving the motherfucker, shit-eater in the kitchen. Hope he heard that. As I headed to my room I noticed the mess my apartment was. Two glasses and an empty bottle that once held wine on the coffee table, clothes scattered everywhere, chantilly on the walls... chantilly on the walls???? HOLY SHIT!!!! Okay, okay, I don't want to talk about this. I don't even want to know how the hell the chantilly I had in my refrigerator before Mulder's arrival last night ended up on my apartment walls. I definitely can't drink wine. Mulder, the alcohol-vulnerable cheater, strikes again. Only for awhile though. ***** After I had breakfast I decided it was time for me to get the hell out of here before things got even worse. So what if I have a drawer in Scully's closet that is full of clothes and a clean suit hanging next to hers? It was departure time for me, so I just washed my face, brushed my teeth and put on my wrinkled clothes that Scully had scattered all over the place last night, laughing at herself for being so eager, with that wanton look in her eyes that makes me so hot. But I digress. I went back in the bedroom, where Scully was finishing getting ready, and, putting on my best puppy dog face (I know I have it, and I know how to use it. Call me a creep, I don't mind. You have no idea what the right puppy dog face at the right time can get you.), I told her "I'm going home to change, love. I'll see you later." I was smart enough not to get too close to her, and I didn't even tried to kiss her. Anyway, she just shrugged and threw yet another "Whatever" at me. I turned back and walked out of the bedroom, but when I got to the door, I turned back again and called "Hey, Scully?" That got me an extremely annoyed "WHAT?" I almost ran away, but I got my courage back in time, smiled at her and said "I love you." "Good for you." Not a trace of a smile. Nothing. Nada. Zip. I got my car keys and got out of the apartment. A long day was waiting for me. ***** I should win a prize for "outstanding good-looking employee when in a hurry". I may have beaten the national record this morning. I had my morning shower, dried my hair, put on my slight make-up and even managed to make the apartment look more decent. All of it in 20 minutes, 25 tops. Not bad. Not bad at all. Another couple of mornings like this and I might beat the world record. Thanks to Mulder. Speaking of him, the bastard did absolutely nothing to make things better for me. He didn't even try. Instead, he stayed in my kitchen pretending he was making some breakfast. If one can call that load of crap breakfast, of course. And on top of it all, the motherfucker dared looking at me with that cynical face, faking - very badly, by the way - a hint of care for me. I know he was laughing out loud on the inside. I know he just loves to drive me crazy (this is, in fact, one of his favorite pastimes). Screw him. So, after those 25 minutes that many times seemed eternal just because of Mulder's presence, he finally concluded (or had the presence of mind to notice) that it was time to go home. 25 minutes, Mulder? Too bad for an FBI agent, psychologist and profiler. You must improve your time, pal. Alone, at last. Sometimes the silence of an empty apartment can't be more comforting and welcome. Home sweet home. Just me and God. As I contemplated the wonderful feeling of being alone while I searched for my keys to leave for Quantico, I spotted it. Lying on my dinner table, quiet and almost smiling at me. The report. The damn report Mulder the dickhead was supposed to take to the Bureau. That wasn't really happening, was it? ***** Good thing traffic to my apartment was light. I was home before I knew it. My apartment looked ridiculously calm this morning. Usually my place is a mess and Scully's apartment is the calm one. Of course my apartment hasn't met Scully's psycho version yet. Geez. I love Scully, I really do, but to get out of there this morning was probably the smartest thing I've done. Ever. Once I read about some women who get really horny when they get PMS. And also that there are some women who only get their cramps to subside if they have sex. Of course, Scully is not in either of those categories. That would be too perfect for me. My God, that would mean I would have three or four days a month of nothing but sex. Every month. A hundred hours of sex. Non stop. With Scully. Fuck! Well, fuck indeed. Okay, better get my mind out of the gutter. At least for now. Anyway, I was in my apartment for a quick shower and shave, since I already had breakfast (or something similar to breakfast) at Scully's. So I showered, shaved and put on a clean suit. And Scully's favorite tie. The one she gave me about two months ago, for no special reason, she told me she was just wandering down the mall and decided she wanted to buy me a new tie. Okay, if I were a Freudian psychologist -which I'm not - I would have understood the meaning of the tie as that Scully might be having possessive feelings about me, that she might want to tie me to her and all that crap, but the truth is I just thought it was sweet. As I was ready to go, it struck me. The report. I was supposed to take it to the Bureau. And I left it at Scully's dinner table. Shit. Fuck. There was only one thought in my head: "Mulder, my man, you are SO dead. She's gonna kill you. Twice. Here lies Fox Mulder, dead by the hands of Psycho!Scully." I called her home, but the machine picked up. I tried her cell phone but it wasn't working. I didn't have enough time to go back to Scully's place and get the report. The only thing I could do was to rush to work and write another report myself. Luckily I had read Scully's report while having breakfast, and I remembered most of it. I just had to get to the office fifteen, twenty minutes before my meeting with the master sucker Kersch so I could type it up. I got my car keys and went to my car. It was gonna be a fast ride. ***** I must have thrown rocks at the holy cross in another life. This is too much. There I was, in the middle of a traffic jam, heading to the Bureau just because the asshole had left the goddamn report at my apartment. I could be at the Academy that time, finishing the first autopsy. But no, instead I was stuck in the maddening traffic of DC with no chances to get rid of it in the following hour. And on top of it all, due to the confusion and rush in the not-so-early morning, I had forgotten to take my painkillers when I left home. I was going to spend the day with the fucking cramps because of Mulder. Motherfucker. Mulder the motherfucker. Mulderfucker. No, Mulderfucker is me, I admit. What should I call him? Scullyfucker? Yeah, that's it. Scullyfucker, in both senses of the word. A good Scullyfucker, by the way. I had to grin at that. Despite my delay, the cramps and the headache Mulder had just gave me, I still had some humor left. And some naughty thoughts. But he wasn't forgiven. Mulder would pay for that. Yes he would. ***** I got a speeding ticket, but I was at the Bureau twenty three minutes before my meeting with the sucker Kersh. I couldn't help the grin on my face as I was walking through the corridor on the way to my office. Fox Mulder can drive. Oh, yes he can. But the grin disappeared as soon as I walked into the office. I was greeted by a manila folder flying up my nose. The report. Scully was there. I rubbed my nose and then I bent down to pick up the folder where it had fallen on the floor. Scully passed by me, stepping half an inch away from my hand. I yelped and exclaimed "Scully!", but she just glared at me, fuming. And then she was out of the office. For a moment there I really thought she was gonna give me the finger. ***** For me, the worst part of an autopsy is the abdomen. What's fun in knowing the misfortuned guy's last meal by examining his stomach, or worse, his intestinal contents? Once I start this part, I want to finish it a.s.a.p. Today it wasn't any different. My morning was already ruined and I was way too late to meet mom at noon. So, what reasons did I have to contemplate the guy's intestines? I wanted to finish it right then, close the guy and leave. As I started the incision on his abdomen and saw his flesh tearing apart, a sick thought passed through my mind and I pictured the same scene happening to me, due to my damn cramps. Oh hell. It couldn't be more disgusting. The man lying before me on the autopsy table had a vast necrosis area in his large intestine. The bad smell of Mulder's burnt eggs (no pun intended) was nothing comparing to that. I felt my stomach turning upside down and I swear I thought it was going to come out along with the coffee I had had at breakfast. On my sophomore year in Med School our Psychology professor told us that the best way to torture someone is by threading a cigar in up his ass, lighting up the opposite edge. The anal sphincter would do the job, swallowing the smoke, which causes an almost immediate necrosis to the large intestine tissue. Now, why does every Psychology professional I get to know seem to have a sick mind? I was pulled out of my reverie by an annoying noise. What the hell... my cell phone, where was my cell phone? After having a big trouble in getting rid of the dirty gloves, lab coat and mask and finally finding the phone, I answered it. "This better be good," I said loud. Mulder. MULDER! "Hi sweetie, I'm just calling to check on you; feeling better?" Feeling better? FEELING BETTER??? Mulder, don't you care for your life???? The damn call pissed me off so much I almost lost control and started throwing words at him without even thinking. "You know, I was feeling fucking better until you called and interrupted my autopsy, FOX! Now you answer me, a bullet in your stomach or a cigar in up your ass, huh? No, don't waste your time trying to pick up the best choice, cause you're gonna die twice Mulder. Three times, if necessary!" That said, I pressed the end button and turned back, furious, to the nice sleeping guy naked in the room. At least he would never open his mouth to annoy me. ***** The rest of the morning passed without any other incident, if you don't count the phone call. On a note to myself, NEVER call Scully in the middle of an autopsy when she's got PMS again. Surprisingly, my meeting with the sucker Kersch went well, he seemed to like Scully's report. As soon as I was dismissed I went back to the office, where there were some files I wanted to take a look at. But as I sat there, I had a brilliant idea: Scully needed a break. Hell, I needed a break too, after the morning I just had. So I called Kersch's assistant and told her Agent Scully was going spend the afternoon wrapping up her thoughts on the lecture she was giving at Quantico and that she needed my help. Of course I didn't tell the woman the lecture was about Forensic Pathology and that I know basically nothing about it, nor did I tell her that there were no thoughts whatsoever to be wrapped up. Then I was on my way to lunch. The good thing about having lunch on my own is that I can order the greasiest burger with a double order of fries and REGULAR coke. Oh, can't forget the chocolate mousse I had for dessert. Okay, I order that when Scully's around too, but at least alone I can enjoy it without feeling guilty for that. After lunch, I was walking back to my car, when I passed by an old lady who was selling roses. Beautiful wine coloured roses, the ones Scully just loves. I looked at my watch, and noticed I had enough time to go to Quantico and be there before the end of Scully's lecture. I could give her the roses and then she could go meet her mom. Wine coloured roses. I thought maybe it would remind Scully of our wine-induced incredible performance last night. And that she would see how incredibly happy I am that she loves me. I ordered two dozen roses, paid for them and had to resist the urge to whistle as I walked to the parking lot. ***** There are certain things in the FBI policy that I can't accept. In my opinion, every FBI agent should be able to tolerate any kind of circumstances that can occur in a crime scene, including dealing with death and corpses. I have to say it's kinda depressing seeing half of your audience run to the toilets because of some mere dia-positives with a little more blood than they would actually like to see. Men, 6 feet tall, 200 pounds, acting like chickens. That's a shame for the Bureau. What a day! I glanced at my watch, almost 6 p.m. I considered calling mom and meeting her for dinner but my plan was dismissed when I entered the main office of the Forensic Pathology Department to grab my things and go home. The man must be insane. What the heck was he doing there, after everything we had been through during the day? Gee, I must have been the greatest sinner of all times in the past, I swear I didn't deserve it. "Hi dear. I picked this up from the Academy front garden." With a silly smile on his face, Mulder handed me a huge bouquet of wine colored roses. No one does such a thing unless he wants something in return. Of course not. Wine colored roses and you thought I wouldn't get it, Mulder? Great son of a bitch, you. Flowers, smooth talking... did he think I'm 15 years old? Anyway, you want to play games, Mulder? Okay then. Bitchy-Scully mode on. ***** The drive back to Scully's apartment was hell. I have to make a warning to the Humanity here: never tell Scully she's got PMS when she is having it. I mean it. NEVER. She was still annoyed because she had to cancel her lunch date with her mom and because of the flowers, and she just couldn't stop speaking. She just went on and on telling me she that was pissed off, that *I* had made her pissed off because *I* made her late and that week nights are not supposed to have stay overs, and that she was angry at me because I didn't respect that, and that I should just leave her alone for a while but instead I had gone to Quantico with those stupid roses (which she had thrown in the backseat of the car, by the way) only to try to make her soften with sexual purposes. That was too much. I can be a jerk sometimes, but I would never, ever try to do something like that. Not with any woman, especially not with Scully, whom I love more than anything. I couldn't keep quiet anymore. "Scully, hold on right there! First of all, that is a mean accusation, you know I would *never* do that. Second of all, you are pissed and angry because you've got a *bad* case of PMS. You've been bitching me up since we woke up this morning. Shit. How can you allow this to happen every fucking month? Hell, why don't you just start that new treatment to stop having your periods? For the sake of us both!" See, I have this problem of not knowing when to stop talking. And now I admit, I had gone too far. Scully was fuming. She was on the verge of killing me. In fact, she actually threatened to. "Mulder, if we weren't in this car, God help me, but I would strangle you!" She said that with such a fury in her eyes that I could almost anticipate the pain in my neck. Then I winced, and she turned her head away from me. I went back to watching the traffic as I pulled over in front of her building. Scully got out of the car and, without even looking at me, went to the stairs. I looked at the flowers in the back seat but decided to leave them there. So much for trying to be mushy. Fuck. I locked the car and followed Scully to her apartment. ***** I entered my apartment with a lump in my throat. Mulder had really hurt me with his mean comments in the car. I wasn't even angry at him anymore, I was just feeling *hurt*. Did he mean it? Actually I was angry at myself for going weak in front of him. I didn't show it, but I'm sure Mulder knew I was crying. I needed to be alone to recompose myself but as soon as I started moving towards my bedroom I felt Mulder's hand on my forearm, pulling me back. ***** That situation was going too far. I didn't know what else to do. I was afraid if I opened my mouth to say anything we were going to end up fighting again, and that I would say worse things than I already had. I made Scully cry in the car. She tried to hide it, but I know she was crying. Shit. I had to fix it. Right that moment. I just had to find the right thing to say. Scully was heading to her bedroom. I knew she wanted to be alone, that she didn't want me to see her like this, outside the control walls she had built around herself, but I also knew I couldn't wait one moment to do what I had to do. I didn't think. I just pulled her back and hugged her to me. ***** Mulder can speak volumes without a word. And when he does it to me it seems it works even better. We have this connection, we can perfectly understand what the other is thinking by a mere exchange of look. When he pulled me back and hugged me hard it happened again. I knew right then how deeply sorry Mulder was for the things he had previously said and done. I put my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest. As I felt him caressing the back of my head with his chin on top of it, I couldn't hold a sob, along with a coward tear slipping down my left cheek. ***** Scully was crying again. But at least this time she was in my arms. I hugged her closer, and the only thing I could do was to whisper sweet nothings to her: "Shh... it's okay baby, please don't cry, I'm so sorry I made you cry... I'm really sorry..." Then I had to be the smartass: "You know Scully, I love you even when you've got PMS." Okay, I deserved the punch on my chest. Lucky me it was a light punch and she looked up at me and tried to smile. I couldn't resist. "You have to open your mouth a little wider and your eyes have to shine brighter, love, for it to be actually considered a smile." She did it. Life was perfect again. ***** Okay, it was time to stop or we wouldn't get apart any time soon. With the biggest of efforts I pulled back from my sweetheart, not before greeting him with a smile though. Maybe the first of the day. A smile that *he* had put on my face. The day had been long and I was pretty tired, physically and emotionally. I needed a bath. Mulder would understand it and I was sure he would be just fine with a TV to entertain him during my half an hour absence. I should know this was going to happen sooner or later. Damn. I felt it when I began undressing and there it was, the red son of a bitch, looking at me. If Mulder had any plans for tonight he would have to change his mind. Oh well, after all we had been through today maybe he wouldn't even be up to anything. No, I know better. He's not that kind of man. Sometimes I think Mulder has an inappropriate and too active physiology for his 37 years. ***** Scully wanted to take a bath, so I made myself comfortable. I took my suit, tie and shoes off, and sat down on the sofa. I grabbed the remote and turned the TV on, just to have a background sound. I closed my eyes and really tried not to think about Scully naked in the bathtub. Okay, that's a lie. I wasn't trying that much. Anyway, after the day she just had, Scully wouldn't be up for anything. Or maybe she would and I would have a perfect ending for this bizarre day. It was then that I felt it. This ripping pain in my tummy and lower back. I tried to move to a different position but it just made it hurt more. That was it, folks, Fox Mulder was having cramps. Sympathy cramps. I had to laugh at that. I was having sympathy pains for Scully's cramps. This was just amazing. Of course the fact that I was in pain wasn't that amazing. Man, now I understand why Scully gets so bitchy when she's got cramps! This thing hurts! With some difficulty, I got up and went to Scully's bedroom to look for some painkillers. I didn't find any, and the pain was getting stronger. I had no other choice but to go into her bathroom and ask Scully for some medicine. I knocked on the door and entered the bathroom. ***** "PMS, Mulder? Are you nuts???" For one moment I thought Mulder had lost all rationality and common sense. Cramps? Him? Hah! I still can't believe he dared interrupting my so deserved bath with that crap. I understand that he's trying to be kind to me and so, but please, this sympathy pain stuff is too much. What did he want? A replay of our I-wish-it-never-existed morning? No, thank you very much! As soon as my mind registered the information Mulder had just given me, coming into the bathroom and claiming he had cramps, I elaborated a rational and scientific explanation for it. Two, in fact: 1)Mulder was having fun at my expense; 2)he ate that gross stuff he called scrambled eggs in the morning and probably something not much unlike it at lunch. I was kinda proud of myself for finding not one but TWO plausible theories so quickly. Yeah, I had to honour my degree in Medicine, right? ***** Alright, so I ate the burnt eggs. But I was having *cramps*, not stomach ache. And that can only mean I was having sympathy pains. I mean, look at the facts: Scully's been having cramps all day today. I've been worried about her all day long. And then I had cramps. Men have sympathy pains for their wives when they are in labor, why couldn't I be having sympathy pains for Scully's cramps? And most of all, why couldn't Scully believe I was having sympathy pains? Geez. Anyway, I really wasn't in the mood for another verbal sparring, so I just got the painkillers out of the medicine cabinet, took them without any water to help me swallow and got out of the bathroom. I went back to the living room, but the couch didn't look as appealing as it looked before. So I turned the TV off, and went to Scully's bedroom and laid down in her bed. Our bed these days. I closed my eyes and tried not to move too much as I waited for the painkillers to kick in. Some minutes later, Scully came into the bedroom and went to her closet to put some clothes. Then she came to bed. It was only then that I opened my eyes and looked at her. She was wearing one of my T-shirts. I smiled at her, and she smiled back at me. Then she laid in bed and fit herself to me. I love it how Scully and I can do these things without saying a word. My cramps were gone in no time. ***** They were in bed together for some time now, each lost on their own thoughts. Mulder was on his back, one arm propped behind his head and the other around Scully, whose head was laying on his right shoulder and her arm resting on her lover's chest. Mulder was the one who broke the silence: "Scully?" "Huh?" "You sleeping?" "What if I was?" "Sorry." They both went silent for some time, then Scully cracked in: "Mulder?" "Yeah, baby?" "I wasn't." With a lopsided grin, Mulder turned his face towards her, bringing Scully closer with the arm that rested around her. Then, he leaned his head and kissed her forehead, quickly moving to her ear, teasing her with his talented tongue. "Mulder, I'm having my period." "Oh, that's okay. We can move it to the shower so we don't stain your sheets." "Fox Mulder, you are such a pervert!" And with a mischievous grin, Scully sat up, grabbed her fluffy pillow with both hands and hit Mulder's face with it. Mulder raised his right eyebrow at her. "So you are accepting my offer." Scully just smiled. And they lived happily ever after (or at least for the following 28 days). THE END ***** Authors' Notes: Okay, this was a weird trip. When we decided to write this fanfic together, we had no ideia what would come out of it, we just thought it would be fun. And with a chocolate bar and a coke next to you late hours at night, what's not fun? So, here it is pals, we hope you have enjoyed our little attempt to make something funny and fluffy. And have had a time reading it as good as the time we had writing the story. Fabi's personal note: I just have one thing to say: Tissa, thanks a lot for encouraging me about this weird idea and for riding this funny trip with me. Let's do this more times! Oh, and one more little thing: guys, if you're out of ideas, chocolate, coke and two crazy people behind their computers late at night are all that you need to have fun! :) Tissa's personal notes: This is the second fic I've written. Ever. Fabi knew that (she edited my first fic a couple of weeks before we started writing this one), and she was crazy enough to ask me to write this fic with her. I was flattered but absolutely frightened by this. Anyway, I accepted the offer. Guess I can't resist a challenge. I knew we had a very nice idea in our hands, but at the same time it was something really risky, I mean, I had never written humor fic, let alone MSR Humor Fic. This was some sort of a BIG no-no for me, something I could never, ever do. But then, we started writing, and things got out of control: we wrote, and wrote, and it was funny, and suddenly I was feeling something good would come out of it. And it did. I'm proud of this fic. The nights we spent writting together were a blast, we wrote the last part of this fic ONLINE, and the ideas just flowed from me to Fabi, and from her to me, and in the end, I was exausted, but extremely happy. We had done a nice job. So, if you are still reading all this rambling, please, drop us a line on what you think about our fic. Your feedback is our reward.