From: Rachel Budde Date: Sat, 10 Aug 2002 15:38:27 -0700 (PDT) Subject: Bullfrog Lullabies Source: direct Title: Bullfrog Lullabies Author: Caroline McKenna Spoilers: Detour Teaser: Did you know that there's a second verse to "Jeremiah was a Bullfrog"? And it's an interesting one at that. Category: MSR Email: JC_SizzlinSpike827@yahoo.com Feedback: I shamelessly beg for it! *grovel* *grovel* Disclaimer: I don't own them, I never will. They belong to Chris Carter, FOX, 1013 Productions, and I like to think they belong to GA and DD. They're not mine. Don't rub it in. Archiving: Yes, just tell me where you're taking it, and include my name and email "Joy to the world and all the boys and girls," I sang dryly. This really wasn't what I wanted to be doing just now. I wanted to be at home in my apartment, taking a nice long bubble bath and listening to some classical music. But no. Dana Scully can never have what she wants, can she? So, instead of my relaxing evening at home, I am here, in the middle of the woods, cradling my partner's head in my lap. Not to mention it's the middle of the night, and there is a deranged killer in these woods somewhere. Natural, or supernatural, it doesn't matter to me anymore. I just know it's there, lurking, waiting for Mulder and I to fall asleep so it can make its move. "Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea," And on top of all that, Mulder made me sing. Well, he didn't make me, exactly, but he gave me his kicked puppy-dog look, and I couldn't help but agree. He cheats. How I ended up singing "Joy to the World, (Jeremiah was a Bullfrog)" by Three Dog Night, is still a mystery to me. It was the first song that popped into my head when he made his request, so I sang, with a less than enthusiastic tone of voice, that I'm sure he appreciated. "Joy to you and me." I'll admit, I'm not Mariah Carey or anything, but I can sing when I try. This of course, was not one of those times when I went all out. I stop singing just there, not daring to venture out beyond the chorus, knowing just where that might lead me. I might have no other choice than to jump his bones right then and there. Stop it Dana, I chide. Thinking about Mulder in that way was one of my carnal instincts, something I had a hard time preventing. I really did not need those kinds of thoughts about my partner just now. Not ever really, but especially right now, when we are alone in the darkened woods with no way to keep warm except body heat, the thought of which could take me in a very dangerous direction. "Second verse, Scully," he whispers, his eyelids drooping. I look down at him, half-shocked and half-thrilled at his words' implications. "I don't remember it," I say, trying to keep my cool. I was lying through my teeth, and praying that Mulder bought it. I knew he wouldn't, but it was worth a try. I knew the second verse, he knew the second verse; the whole damn planet knew the second verse to that song. "Yes you do," he prods gently, opening his eyes and smiling up at me. It was a look I hadn't seen in Mulder before; hesitant, almost shy. This, I sensed, was genuine. "Uh..." "I'll sing it with you, Scully. That way we'll both stay awake." There was that familiar Mulder-leer that had been torturing me for nearly five years. "I don't know, Mulder," I respond. "Please, Scully." Those puppy-dog eyes again. Those big, hazel eyes looking into my blue ones, trying to read into my soul. How could I resist? "If I were the king of the world," we sing softly, a smile creasing my features. "I'd tell you what I'd do." If Mulder makes me sing that last line, I'm gonna.... "I'd throw away the cars and the bars and the war..." I trail off, but Mulder keeps singing, belting out the last line. "And make sweet love to you." Holy Mary, Jesus, Joseph, he said it! My heart beats faster in my breast. I can't believe I'm reacting like this. It's just a damn song! But then why am I suddenly so... how do I put this... turned on? "Why did you pick that song, Scully?" he asks me, his eyes full of earnest curiosity. I think he really wants to. Well, even I don't know the answer to that question. There was no ulterior motive; it was simply the first song to pop into my head. "I dunno, Mulder. It was just the first song that came to mind." "You sure, Scully?" he leers again. That is really getting hard to ignore, as is the little voice in my head that tells me to kiss him. "Yes, Mulder." We sit silently for a few minutes, until I know he's fallen asleep. Sitting there, in the dark woods, I run my hand through his hair, its silky strands caressing my fingers. He starts to snore softly, and I can't help but smile. He looks so innocent when he sleeps. All the pain and suffering is wiped off his face, and he appears so content, so satisfied. One thing bothers me, though, as I watch my partner sleep. Why did he sing so loudly? Or, more accurately, why did he sing the last line so loudly? Did he mean it? Or was it just another one of Mulder's innuendoes? Either way, this man is impossible to figure out. The complexity that is Mulder strikes me, pure and simple. I'm amazed at how he's always surprising me, always coming up with something new. What would I do if he were serious when he sang that song to me? Would I get nervous and rationalize it away, like I do most things between us? Or would I go with the larger part of my very intelligent brain and ravish him right here and now? I suppose there's only one way to find out. I hate to disrupt his peaceful slumber, but I have to know. "Mulder?" I gently shake his shoulder. "Mulder, wake up." "Huh? What is it, Scully, are you okay?" "I'm fine Mulder, just... confused." He sits up, and moves beside me. "About what?" Taking a deep breath, I answer, "Mulder, what would you do if you were the king of the world?" His hazel eyes flash with recognition. He's no dummy; he knows exactly what I'm referring to. "Oh, that." Moments go by without either one of us saying a word, until I finally can't stand it anymore. "Well? What would you do?" When he still doesn't answer, I lose it completely. "Would you make love to me, Mulder, or not? Damnit, I need to know!" "Why do you need to know?" "Goddamn you, Mulder, stop trying to change the subject. Answer my question," I demand fiercely. If he says yes while I'm looking like this, the man's a saint. I am scowling so intensely that I must look madder than hell. He mutters something under his breath, just below an audible decibel level. I give in. "Never mind, it's not important." "Okay, Scully. 'Night." He lays back down, his head once again resting in my lap. "Goodnight, Mulder," I whisper. Mulder must have had an epiphany or something after he spoke, because he shot back up and leaned over, so that his mouth was almost touching my ear. "Yes," he says, "I would." Okay, screw professionalism, chastity, celibacy, and whatever else my job entails. I really don't give a rip about that right now. Mulder just said something that will inevitably change our lives forever. "Hey Mulder?" "Yeah, Scully?" "You don't have to be the king to do that, you know?" "Really?" he asks, almost pleading. I smile coyly. "I think it's raining sleeping bags, Mulder, and I'm cold." "Well," he says, "I hear the best way to keep warm is to lie naked in a sleeping bag with somebody else who is already naked." And then he kisses me. Yes indeed, I knew there was a reason I chose that song.