From: Marley Duchesne Date: Mon, 6 Apr 2009 05:47:10 -0400 Subject: Bubble Gum and Mud by Anukis Source: direct TITLE: Bubble Gum and Mud AUTHOR: Anukis E-MAIL: trst.no1@hotmail.com DISTRIBUTION: Archive freely, just let me know where please. RATING: G CATEGORIES: H SPOILERS: none SUMMARY: "I never pegged you as pink Scully..." Disclaimer: I'm a student. It wouldn't be worth suing me anyway...The X-Files and all its associations belong to Chris Carter and his legal band-wagon. I'm just borrowing. I promise to put them back relatively unscathed--muddy this time though... Author's Notes: One day, when it was storming outside, I decided to paint my toes Bubble Gum pink...which naturally made me think of Scully's toes and Mulder's reaction to her choice of colour. It snowballed from there! *lol* Enjoy and feedback always welcome! ***************************************************************** Hwy 59-somewhere between Rock Springs and Jordon Montana "I cannot believe this." This was probably the hundredth time that particular complaint had been muttered in the last half hour. I was leaning against the hood of our rental car, arms crossed over my chest, eying the sun that was rapidly sinking below the Montana horizon. I glanced down as my partner squirmed out from beneath the car. "Well, Mulder, you'd better start believing," I grumbled under my breath. "Isn't that my line?" he teased, dusting off his slacks. I just looked at him, and raised my eyes skyward. He followed my gaze and I saw his forehead pucker with a frown. "That doesn't look very nice," he said. "Nope," I agreed. Lightning tore across the dark, cloud laden sky. The air around us was heavy and still, guaranteeing the storm to come. Just for the hell of it, I pulled out my cell phone. Nope. Cell service had not miraculously re-appeared in the last half hour. Shucks. "Well, the rad hose is completely torn off, Scully. We're stranded until another vehicle comes this way. I can't fix it." I nodded grimly. Mulder and his infamous short cuts. With a sigh, I unwound my arms, pulled off my blue, stretch-cotton blouse and sat on top the hood of the car in my white tank top. I was sweltering, and sweat stains look very unappealing on a woman. I pulled off my shoes, setting them beside my blouse, and pulled off the knee-high nylon stockings. I wriggled my bare toes, wishing for a cool breeze. None came. Mulder was standing there dumbly, watching my every move, with a very peculiar expression on his face. "What?" I said, somewhat defensively. "I'm hot." A lopsided grin spread across his mouth, hazel eyes twinkling mischievously. "I know. Keep going G-woman!" We stared at each other for a full minute, and my smile won out. I tried. "You know, there was a farm yard a few miles back. Maybe we can walk back, beat the rain," he offered, leaning on the passenger door. "It looked abandoned, Mulder. The yard was really over grown. Besides, we've got shelter in the car." He nodded. We sat in silence for a few minutes. I watched the lightning play through the clouds as the storm drew nearer. Montana was such a wide-open space; it was hard to tell the distance of the approaching weather. I still couldn't hear thunder, so no miles to judge yet. I looked down at my toes. They were painted bubblegum pink. I'd bought the color on a whim. I can't wear pink clothing thanks to my red hair, so why not the toes? I glanced sideways at Mulder. He was staring at my feet, too. It was just a matter of time. "I never pegged you as pink, Scully." Bingo. I said nothing, so he continued. "Red or burgundy maybe." "But not pink," I said, more of a statement than a question. "You've put some thought into the color of my toe nail polish?" "Colors are very significant Scully. We naturally choose shades to either soothe or heighten our emotional state at any given time in almost everything around us. Our clothes, food, the shades in our furniture, wall paint, even the vehicles we own." I glanced at my partner sideways as he pulled off his tie and set his shoes and socks beside mine. "You have a lot of natural tones in your house, Scully. Beiges, browns, greens and blues with wood accents like the dining room set-" "Everyone has a wooden dining room set, Mulder," I interrupted. He waved a hand dismissively. "Your wardrobe consists mostly of these colors too. So do your bathroom towels, kitchen counter top..." Mulder paused as a rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. "Browns and beiges say stability, reliability, and approachability. It is the color of our earth and is associated with all things natural or organic. I cannot think of anyone more reliable and stable than you Scully. And you must be very approachable because even I couldn't resist you." I quirked an eyebrow but remained silent. Mulder continued. "Blue is seen as trustworthy, dependable and committed. Again-totally you. There is no one on this earth I trust more than you Scully and you have shown a commitment to the X-Files that rivals my own. Blue is perceived as a constant in our lives. As the collective color of the spirit, it invokes rest." He paused to smile at me, his hazel eyes warm and sincere. I fought the urge to squirm with pleasure. He'd called me his touchstone once... "Your bedroom consists of a lot of whites and grays. Gray is timeless, practical, and solid. White projects purity, cleanliness, and neutrality. Doctors don white coats, brides traditionally were white gowns and a white picket fence surrounds a safe and happy home. Conveniently enough, you're a doctor and a mysophobe..." "What about the fence?" "Metaphorically speaking Scully." "Aah." "So what does pink mean?" "I'm getting there.' "Sorry. Please continue." "Red is the color of fire and blood, so it is associated with energy, war, danger, strength, power, determination as well as passion, desire, and love. Red is a very emotionally intense color. It enhances human metabolism, increases respiration rate, and raises blood pressure. It has very high visibility, which is why stop signs, stoplights, and fire equipment are usually painted red. In heraldry, red is used to indicate courage," Mulder continued. He tugged on a strand of my hair. "You're very brave." Again I graced him with an arched brow and he grinned. "Now pink-pink is a little different from its root color red. Now a light pink can mean love or romance, softness, delicacy, sweetness, friendship, tenderness, fidelity and compassion. I see all of that in you, for sure. And darker pinks like fuchsia, amaranth and rose, well those shades of pink denote a sense of frivolousness and impracticality." "Huh." "Which you certainly are not." "Nice recovery." "But bubblegum pink...well, I think it portrays a blithe and child-like quality. Something we as adults are rarely allowed to display in today's society of supercilious biddable populace..." My partner's voice trailed off as thunder rumbled again and lightning zigzagged through the gathering clouds. I smiled. I couldn't help myself. Only Fox Mulder could put that much thought into the color of toe nail polish-and come out a winner. "Did you come up with that on your own?" I asked, wriggling my toes to indicate the shade of pink. Mulder nodded, his eyes still trained on the approaching storm and I smiled even though he didn't see it. We sat in companionable silence for a short time and I finally slid off the hood of the car. "The farm house then?" I said, tipping my head in the direction we'd come. "I'd hate to come across as supercilious..." I grinned. Mulder shrugged. "It can't hurt." "Ooo, famous last words Mulder. Famous last words..." "Sorry." We began to walk up the old highway, the tarmac hot beneath my bare feet. My shoes swung idly in my right hand. A bug floated lazily by, nearly bumping into Mulder's legs as he ambled along beside me. This was probably only the second time in our careers together that he was walking slow enough to suit me. I usually had to hustle to keep up to his long stride. Despite my fast-paced life, I didn't really enjoy rushing anymore. Or maybe it was the heat making me feel placid. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance and I looked up. One, two, three, four, five- lightning raked across the gathering swell of clouds. "Five miles." We spoke at the same time, and looked at each other surprised. We laughed. "You owe me a beer," Mulder said, grinning. Suddenly, a chilling breeze swept across my arms, lifting the hair off my damp neck. I shivered. It felt deliciously cool and refreshing. It also meant the rain was nearly upon us. "We should head back," I said. No sooner were the words out of my mouth than when another gust of wind blew in, and kept on coming. Dust swirled up around us, and I squinted against the gritty onslaught. With the wind came a sound-hard, steady, like the hoof beats of a million tiny horses. We could see the wall of water move across the hills like a shadow. "Here it comes!" Mulder cried out, and a torrential sheet of rain descended upon us. We ran. I never even bothered for my shoes. As I raced with my arms out, a joyous laughter bubbled forth, like when I was a kid. I just couldn't help it. We'd been on the road for two days- call it car fever, if there was such a thing-and this felt awesome. It felt free. Mulder must have felt it too, because suddenly he grabbed my wrist and yanked me to a stop. "What's the rush?!" he chortled. "We're already soaked!" I was laughing. "Let's enjoy this, Scully! We never get this kind of freedom. Let's-let's-" "Play!" I hollered. "Yes!" he howled. "WOOOOOOO!" I threw back my head, stuck out my arms and imitated him. The rain fell harder and harder, puddles had already formed in the dips on the old highway. I pranced across the road, bouncing through the puddles-as much as my bare feet would allow. Mulder joined me, flat out jumping, and the water splashed up on my already soaked pants. We were as giddy as eight year olds. "Hey!" I turned at the shout and clapped a delighted hand to my mouth. Mulder was across the road, up to his ankles in rich black summer fallow. At least he'd rolled his pant legs up. I abandoned my shoes beside his and stepped gingerly through the grassy ditch. I shuddered as my bubblegum pink toes squelched down into the mud. "Oh-" "What's the matter Scully?! Is it gross?" Mulder teased. "Doctor-I-can-cut-up-dead-bodies-but-I- can't-handle-a-little-bit-of-mud-Dana-Scully...HEY!" My cheeks hurt from the size of the grin on my face as I watched the glob of black earth ooze down the front of Mulder's slacks. The grin vanished and my body turned inside out to avoid the glob of mud that whizzed by my head. We stared at each other for a few seconds, faces hardening into competitive masks, and the mud flew. Our shrieks and yells carried over the pounding prairie rain as the mud war ensued. I was pretty sure I was winning because Mulder suddenly charged at me, head down, football style and scooped me over his shoulder. We never heard the car pull up, and we never heard the voice calling out to us. "NO! MULDER! DON'T YOU DARE!" I screamed, kicking wildly. He let me drop towards the slough of muddy, watery slop we'd created beneath us and I shrieked again, clinging upside down to the back of his legs. I momentarily entertained the idea of biting him in the ass, since my face was in close proximity, but I didn't have the nerve. KRA-BOOM! The unmistakable explosion of a rifle cut through the rain and our tirade. Mulder dropped me all together, and I stuck my hands out. I ended up in kind of a handstand, before I lost my balance and flopped to one side. I kicked him somewhere on my way down, and I ended up on my knees in the mud. It was then that I saw the squad car parked on the side of the road, and the highway patrol officers standing in their yellow rain slickers. "What the hell are you people doing?!" the one with the rifle yelled. I scrambled to my feet, feeling a blush starting to spread across my cheeks. I couldn't even begin to imagine how ridiculous this must look. "Uh, we had car trouble-up the road there," Mulder said, pointing towards our car. "Uh, yeah, we're with..." Mulder poked me in the arm and I stopped speaking. I looked at him, and felt laughter bubbling up inside me again. Mud slid slowly out of his hair and down around his ear. I could feel it oozing off of me and considering how funny he looked, knew I must be a sight as well. Then, I imagined what we must look like to the two highway patrol officers, and the giggles started. God. I never giggled. Then again, I never played in the mud either. For a split second, it looked like Mulder would get mad-it made me laugh harder. Then he started. We were done. "Oh for Chrissake," the officer with the rifle muttered. His partner, a woman, was struggling to hold back a grin. "Well, come on, for God's sake. Get the hell outa' the field. We'll-we'll give you a ride to town." The last part of his sentence came out with resignation. I followed Mulder out of the field, scooping up our shoes as we went by. We walked to our car, with our heads kind of down, giggling stupidly. The Highway Patrol drove up to our car and we switched the luggage over into their trunk. "Are you two drunk?" he asked suspiciously, eyes narrowed. "No." "Drugs?" "No." Mulder said it so flatly. So seriously. And I wanted to howl with laughter again. The female officer opened the back door for us and we slid in, literally. "We're sorry about the mud. We'll pay to have your car cleaned when we get to town," I said, feeling a twinge of guilt. We were such a mess. "Don't worry about it," the female officer said. "There've been worse things in the back of this car." Her blue eyes twinkled, and a smile graced her lips. Her partner just grunted, and she gave him a patented look. Mulder and I sat quietly all the way back to Rock Springs. We glanced at each other occasionally, but it made us want to laugh again, so we stared hard out the windows instead. Mulder requested the Milner Inn-where we'd stayed before. It was a low profile little motel along the outskirts of town. The fewer who saw us like this, the better. I was beginning to feel guilty about our burst of exuberance. It certainly wasn't professional, and technically, Mulder and I were still on duty. I was thanking the Highway Patrol Officer's for their assistance when a horrified gasp sounded behind us. "Agents Mulder and Scully! Good heavens! What on earth happened to the two of you?! Are you okay?" It was plump Mrs. Gorden; Motel manager and cook. "Agents?" echoed the female Patrol officer. "You guys are the feds?!" her partner practically yelled. I said nothing, and Mulder shrugged. "Car trouble, Mrs. Gordon," I mumbled. "Can we get our old rooms back?" "C-certainly," the older lady stuttered, and she dug into her apron to produce two keys. Mulder and I grabbed our suitcases and departed quickly. "Sweet Mother of Christ!" Larry Hall spat, hands on his hips, watching the two mud covered FBI agents disappear into separate rooms. "Nice to see where my tax dollars are going!" "Oh Larry," Karen Brady soothed with a soft chuckle. "They were just having a little fun. It was hilarious! You should've seen your face when we pulled up. I don't know which was funnier." Larry opened his mouth to gripe some more, but his partner tugged on his arm. "Come on, let's hose out the car." "They're the God-damn FBI! Let them pay for this!" "Larry...." ONE WEEK LATER "Brady! Hall! You've got a package at the desk." Karen slid her arms into her yellow rain slicker and followed her partner to the desk. It was pouring again today. "Who's it from?" she asked, peering around him. "No name. It's from DC." "Washington?" He nodded, pulling off the brown paper. His partner gasped, then erupted in peels of laughter. Practically the whole department stopped what they were doing to stare. Larry Hall couldn't help the twitching at the corner of his usually stern mouth. It was a removable vinyl seat cover for the back of their squad car. FINIS