From: Kel Date: Thu, 28 Oct 1999 07:19:59 -0400 Subject: NEW: Clean Sweep (Very short story) Title: Clean Sweep Author: Kel Other stuff: One naughty word. They're not mine. Archive? Hardly seems applicable, but help yourself. Summary: Nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah Nyah! "You look like shit," Scully said at last. She hadn't said anything when Mulder had dragged himself through the office door half an hour late, but his bloodshot eyes and wan complexion told the story. She'd been watching him pretend to work and she finally had to say something. He looked up from the paperwork he'd been unable to focus on. "Thanks. I happen to feel terrific," he said. "Really?" She knew he'd been feeling no pain last night because she'd recognized his jubilant tones in the background when Frohike had called her at 3:00 AM to propose marriage. "Outside of the normal symptoms that follow a night of celebration, I feel perfectly all right," Mulder said. The headache and the nausea were a small price to pay for a perfect evening. "That so?" Scully asked. "Then why are you sitting like that?" Damn. She had noticed. He pretended to be engrossed in his paperwork again. "You'd better let me have a look at it," she said. "Scully, how do you have a look at a hangover?" he answered. Stonewall her, he thought. That's the ticket. "Mulder, I happen to be a medical doctor as well as an investigator," she said. "Unless you'd rather let Employee Health evaluate your injury, I want you to show me." She asked for it, he thought. Besides, he was just a little bit proud of himself. He leaned over his desk and opened his belt, lowering his trousers enough to satisfy Scully. "Way to go, Mulder," she said, treating herself to a congratulatory pinch far from the traumatized site. She had to hand it to him, whoever had worked on him was an artist. Once the inflammation cleared, it was going to be a beauty. And the blue ink showed up well, even against the bruising. "NEW YORK YANKEES - 1999 WORLD CHAMPIONS."