Title: Ass Kicking 101
Author: Trixie
Email: scullymulder1121@hotmail.com
Category: MSR, V, (slight) Humor
Spoilers: Three of a Kind; lil tiny Unnatural ones.
Rating: R (mild sexual situations . . . or not so mild . . depending on
your perspective.)
Archive: Please :)
Summary: You ever get an image stuck in your head that just =refuses= to
be eradicated, and so you're forced to manipulate an entire story around
this ONE image, just so you aren't haunted by it when you close your eyes? You
haven't? Oh;just me I guess. Hopefully you'll enjoy the byproduct of my
insanity.
Notes: Muchos thanks to Brynna (even though she was tired) and Eve who
convinced meto post it. Eve's exact words of encouragement: "this is too
good to not share withthe rest of the class." And so, here we are :)
Feedback: Purdy please with naked MulderClones (or ScullyClones,
depending on which you prefer) on top?
Disclaimer: Like he'd let them to THIS.

~

Ass Kicking 101

~

I bet they thought they were home free.

Those little bastards disappeared from Vegas before I could track them
down, and as far as I know they haven't left their den since.

I can't recall being quite this pissed off before. For the last day,
I've done nothing but plot and plan; I've been devising the kind of
revenge most fifth graders deem immature. And I know, I should be above
this sort of thing. I should turn the other cheek and let it go. But the
simple truth is, I just don't want to.

I admit, I'm a little amused, too. And I wouldn't do anything to the
Gunmen I wouldn't fully expect them to do to me. They're damned devious
and I still think Frohike is behind that little stunt with the waterbed.

Don't they know that =I'm= the only one allowed to rouse my partner from
a good night's sleep and request her presence for some unknown, but
highly important reason?

They used me to get to her; granted, their motives were pure. But they
still used me to get to her. Therefore, they must pay. Honestly, I have
no choice in the matter; it's an unwritten law between men. They know
that; they knew it when they did it. I'm sure they're still hiding away
in their den, scared shitless that Scully's going to kick their asses as
soon as they step one foot out the door.

Of course, they're absolutely right; she would've kicked their sorry
asses if she'd found them in Vegas. But they left without her, put time
and distance between them and she's cooled since then. I talked to her
today; she actually said she was just going to let it lie. It's just who
they are, Mulder, she'd reminded me in that oh-so-patient tone of hers.
You of all people should know that. I'm just going to live and let live;
maybe it'll get me a year's subscription to the Lone Gunmen, she'd added
hopefully.

She was hurling arcane cliches at me again; I =hate it when she does
that when we're not face to face. I can't fight back properly if I can't
see the look in her eyes.

I'm interrupted from my musings by a knock at the door. I glance at my
watch; right on time. I hop off the chair and stride to the door,
throwing it open with a flourish. "Scully, do you have some kind of
internal chronometer you never told me about?"

She rolls her eyes at me and steps into my apartment. "What am I doing
here Mulder?" she questions, shucking her coat and turning to regard me,
hands on hips.

"We're going to pay Frohike back," I announce, shutting and bolting the
door.

"Mulder," she almost whines in exasperation.

"I already took care of Langley," I cut in, moving to my desk. I
straighten the supplies I have set up, glancing warily at Scully.

Her lips twitch; she wages an internal battle. "What did you do?" she
finally asks, curiosity getting the better of her.

"Sufficed to say, he was meeting an `informant' in the park;
mysteriously, that informant never showed and some kid got bubble gum
stuck in his hair." A grin breaks out on my face. "Poorboy said it'll
take him a week to get it all out."

"You personally seeing to it that kid stays flush?" she questions,
folding her arms over her chest, giving me The Look.

God that's sexy; the way she's standing there looking at me. I don't
think it should be; she definitely doesn't =intend= it to be; it just
is. She just is. I wonder if I have the balls to go through with what
I've got planned.

I clear my throat. "Byers is about to have a meltdown; someone sent a
brand new virus, courtesy of all the Lab Boys down at Quantico. Nothing
he won't be able to thwart, of course; it'll just keep him busy for
about twenty-four hours."

"Ingenious," she comments, with just a hint of sarcasm coloring her
voice.  She waits a beat and I can =feel= her trying to restrain herself
from asking. Finally, "what about Frohike?"

Ha; I knew she'd crack. "Frohike is what brings you here today," I
pronounce, stepping away from my desk to stand in front of her. "You see
Scully, I need something that only you can give me to complete this
final step."

Her eyebrow cocks. "Why are you doing this Mulder?" she asks, sounding
bored.

I shrug. "Because you wouldn't do it for yourself," I begin. "And
because I don't like what they did to you." I chuckle a little under my
breath. "Although, you gotta respect the genius behind it."

"I don't gotta do nothing," she mutters. Her lips purse and she
considers me for a moment. "All right Mulder," she concedes. "What do I
have to do to pay the little troll back?"

Her voice isn't unkind and I can detect her own lingering humor. If
either of us were truly serious in our campaign to destroy them, it
would take all the fun out of it. I know, even as I recognize we're just
evening the score, the Gunmen will retaliate somehow. This is war now,
and we will fight until only one team is left standing.

I fully intend that team to be Scully and me.

"Lose the blouse Scully," I murmur, holding her eyes with mine for a
moment.

"What?" she almost sputters.

"Lose," I pull my own t-shirt over my head, "the blouse, Scully." I grin
at her. "Trust me."

She rolls her eyes. "The last time I heard that," is all she says as she
begins unbuttoning her blouse. She tosses it over my t-shirt and stands
before me in her black lace bra, hands once again firmly planted on
hips.

"Bra too," I tell her in my most sincerely insincere voice.

"Mulder, why?" she asks, sounding exasperated with me.

"Because we're going to make Frohike eat his heart out," I explain
slowly. "I promise not to look," I add, lying through my teeth.

She knows it and her lips purse again. I hold up both my hands in
surrender. "I suppose you can leave the bra on," I concede, and she
starts nodding her head. "But," I add, moving closer to her again. I
place both hands on her shoulders and gently turn her around. The backs
of my knuckles brush over the clasp of her bra, taking a side trip to
visit the skin around it. "It'll look more convincing, and a hell of a
lot harder for him to stomach if you take it off."

I'm staring at the back of her head, yet I can still see her eyes roll;
how is that possible? She lets out a huge sigh and her hands move up
between us, fumbling for the clasp. I still her with a touch to the back
of her neck and quickly do it for her. She shrugs out of the bra and it
joins the rest of our clothes on my couch. Turning around, she crosses
her arms over her breasts self-consciously, giving me an expectant look.

Moving backward, more than a little captivated by the sight of all that
ScullySkin, I seat myself back in the chair. I point to the contraption
attached to my monitor. "This, is a digital camera," I explain. "It's
hooked up to my PC. All we have to do is snap a picture and I can attach
it - along with some colorful message - in an email to Frohike." I grin.
"He won't know what hit him."

A reluctant smile tugs at her lips as she slowly walks toward me. I see
something change behind her eyes as I lose my focus and start watching
the way her shoulders sway as she walks; the way the tiny bits of flesh
peek out from above her arms. "How are we going to do this Mulder?" she
asks, her tone playful now; she's gotten used to this, she's adapting to
her current situation. "I mean, logistics wise," she adds.

"Uh, I," I shake my head, clearing my thoughts. "I um, thought you could
just  . . . sit on my lap or something; just set up something good for
the camera."

"You mean like this?" she asks, straddling my waist in the chair. Her
arms go around my neck and her breasts press up against my chest before
I can get a really long, lingering look at them like I wanted.

I swallow; I was thinking something that didn't involve her crotch
pressed up against mine, but yea, this'll work too. "Yea," I mumble,
bringing one of my hands to her back; make it look authentic echoes
through my mind, even as another part of me acknowledges authenticity
and getting back at Frohike is the furthest thing from my mind at the
moment.

"Are you sure?" she asks, innocence coloring her voice. "I mean, maybe
it would be better like this," she offers as she stretches her upper
body, rubbing her breasts against me. I stop a groan with a great
expense of energy on my part. My face is even with her color bone. "And
is it better that he sees who you are? Or is it better that you could be
anyone, an unknown man, a stranger holding me like this?"

Her voice has taken on an experimental tone; carefully calculated
speech, meant to sound like she's thinking aloud. Have more on your mind
than fucking with the Gunmen, Scully? I stop myself from asking the
question; instead, I decide I'd rather play with her for awhile.

Who knows where playing with Dana Scully will lead?

"I don't know," I murmur, letting the same experimentation color my
voice; "this might work," I offer, turning until we're facing the camera
sideways. I turn her head gently so her eyes look into the lens.
Settling my arms around her back, my hands holding her shoulder blades
steady, I lower my mouth to the side of her neck, my face almost totally
obscured by hers. I dart my tongue out against the crook of her neck.

"That might work," she concedes and her voice doesn't betray the slight
tremor I feel in her body. "Is there a button on there that will allow
it to keep snapping pictures continually?"

"Yep," I confirm, leaning back from her to look her in the eye.

A grin spreads across her face. "Maybe we should try as many different
positions as we can think of, then compare them to find the most worthy
of sweet revenge," she proposes, the tip of her index finger tracing
idle patterns on the back of my neck.

Flicking the appropriate switches on the camera, I lean back into her,
pressing my lips to her ear. "I like the way you think, Agent Scully," I
whisper as the first =clickflash= fills the room.

"Just the way I think, Agent Mulder?" she challenges, nipping my
shoulder, this time totally obscuring my face. That might be a keeper, I
think dumbly as a shudder resonates through my body.

=clickflash

"Oh I like lots of things about you Scully," I assure her, slipping my
tongue into that little indent below her throat.

"Just like, Mulder?" she whispers, almost purring my name, her neck
arching as far as it'll go, baring her throat to me; I take full
advantage, laving my tongue and lips and teeth over her flesh.

=clickflash

"What do you want from me Scully?" I question after a moment, brushing
my lips along her jaw.

"Guess," she proposes, sliding her hands up and down my upper arms,
pulling herself closer to me.

"I'm sick of guessing," I admit quietly, tracing her hairline with my
mouth, inhaling the sea-salt smell to her hair. Did Scully drive to the
beach after she got back from Vegas? "I'm tired of wondering," I add,
brushing my lips over each of her closed eyelids as reverently as I can
manage at the moment.

=clickflash

"No one said you had to wonder in the first place, Mulder," she murmurs,
fanning her breath against my chest as her head bends to press
feather-light kisses to my skin.

"No one said I didn't," I counter, moving my fingers from her back to
her hair, sifting it through my fingers, letting it fall again in
disarray around her face. "So are you going to let me off the hook or
keep me wondering, Scully?" I ask, oddly nervous; this is like a fantasy
I've never allowed myself to have happening. I'm not quite sure how to
reconcile it, but I'm damn sure going to enjoy it.

"Why is it when you say wonder, I hear worry, Mulder?" she asks,
latching those perfect lips around one of my nipples just as my mouth
presses against her forehead.

=clickflash

"How can you still - after all these years - be worried about my
devotion to you?" she whispers, placing soft, open-mouthed kisses all
the way up my chest to my chin. She stops there and moves along my jaw
until she reaches my ear again. She bites down on the lobe.

"It's not that," I mutter, mentally asking myself just what the fuck it
is then. I cup her shoulders and press my lips to her collarbone,
sucking on it lightly. "I think I know how you feel; I just don't know .
. . if you mean it," I finally manage to mumble. "I don't know if =we
mean it, because we never seem to," I add, sliding my mouth to her left
collarbone, latching on to it as I feel her chin brush my temple.

=clickflash

"I mean it," she answers without hesitation, her fingers threading
through my hair. She scrapes gently with her fingernails, pressing a
kiss to my forehead before repeating the action along the bridge of my
nose, the tip, carefully avoiding my mouth to land again on my chin.
"I've always meant it," she adds.

So have I, I echo silently. Always; even when I couldn't fathom her
meaning it back, I have. I nuzzle the side of her cheek with my nose,
sliding my hand down her arm until it encounters her own, twining our
fingers together, pointing our hands toward the camera. "I think I fell
in love with you in Bellefleur," I confess as I press my cheek to hers,
mimicking the posture of some erotic tango with her in this chair.

=clickflash

I think I'm holding my breath, waiting to hear what she'll say next. She
was right; I do mean worry when I say wonder. "I don't know when I fell
in love with you," she confesses, starting my heart beating once more
with her words. "I realized it after they split is up, before I was . .
. before Duane Barry," she murmurs, nibbling at the curve of my jaw.

Running my nose and mouth along the front of her body until my face
rests just between her breasts, I gently rub her shoulder blades. "So
how am I doin' Scully?"

=clickflash

"Depends on what you're trying to do, Mulder," she counters, threading
her fingers through my hair.

"Well, what are my choices?" I ask, lapping at the crook of her neck.

"As far as I can tell, you have two options," she murmurs, her voice
going back to that almost clinical tone; I'm heartened to note, however,
that it isn't the least bit detached. "You're either trying to get back
at Frohike, or you're trying to seduce me." Her mouth finds my ear
again. "I must warn you, Agent Mulder; if you answer affirmative to the
former, I might have to shoot you again."

"I'd hate to have to force you into an act of violence, Agent Scully," I
murmur, sliding my mouth down toward one of her breasts.

=clickflash

I dart my tongue out to lick the tip of her nipple as I run my fingers
down her back again, sliding my hands into the back of her pants,
cupping her ass against me.

"Camera can't see that," she whispers into my ear, darting her tongue
out to probe inside tentatively.

"What camera?" I whisper on my way back up to her. My mouth finds hers
at last and our tongues tangle; my hands move to her face again, holding
her to me as I kiss her deeply, tangling my fingers in her hair until it
fans my cheeks as well as her own.

=clickflash

Needless to say, we found another way to get back at Frohike.

Much, much, much, =much= later.

~

END


More Notes: Okay, now, I realize they may not be in character; this is
probably thefirst last and only time I just don't CARE. If you like, you
can rationalize it the
same way I did; Scully's just still suffering some after-effects of the
HappyDrugs
she was given. :) Please, remember, feedback is like chocolate;
sometimes, it can beBETTER than chocolate. Not often; but sometimes. :)