Author: From monicav@mindspring.com Tue May 27 02:36:48 1997 Subject: Dinner and Disaster by Kellian -------- I did not write this. Please forward all feedback to the author at Thanks, Monica _____________________________________________________ &*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*& Date: Sun, 25 May 1997 04:25:07 -0500 To: X-FILES-FANFIC@CHAOS.TAYLORED.COM From: Eric & Kellian Herrington-Kelso Subject: Dinner and Disaster Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" “Dinner and Disaster” (or “Why You Shouldn’t Store Breakable Things on the High Shelves”) by Kellian Rating: PG-13 for swearing Classification: Humor Disclaimer: All these people belong to Chris Carter and Fox, except Cliff and Abbey, who would probably like to. Posting: Anywhere Author’s Notes: Many of the events in this story were inspired by actual events (most disgustingly, the strawberry thing). This one’s for Em-Bird, for the title and that great night at the Aston! (Sorry about your kitchen, Em!) Scully stood at the kitchen door unable to move, Behind her, she heard Cliff say, "Oh, my God", but she couldn't speak, any more than she could force herself to move any further into the room. Certainly, she'd seen worse - it was the sheer *unexpectedness* that had her stunned. Twenty minutes earlier, she and Cliff had run out to pick up the wine for dinner, leaving Mulder and Abbey in the kitchen. Only twenty minutes. Now they were both gone, and blood spattered the cupboards. It dripped from the countertop to the floor, where it was coagulating into a sticky red puddle. It was smeared on the refrigerator and was diluting to pink in the wet sink. Scully was trying to decide what to do when they heard the scream. She must have regained her power of locomotion, because she suddenly found herself halfway up the stairs, gun drawn and yelling Mulder's name at the top of her lungs. It was coming from the hall bathroom. "Freeze, FBI!" she hollered, kicking the door open and covering the room with her Sig. "What the hell?" asked Cliff, peeking over Scully's head into the bathroom, where Abbey and Mulder were quite obligingly frozen. They were both covered in blood, and Abbey was holding a big pair of tweezers. "Go ahead and shoot him - maybe he'll stay still for five minutes!" Abbey said, gathering her wits about her enough to speak, although somewhat shakily. Scully shook her head and re-holstered her gun. "Already tried it - didn't work." "Scuuullly, she's trying to *kill* me." Mulder whined, glaring at Abbey’s tweezers. "Are you going to tell us what happened, are should we just assume you're having a gory wet T-shirt contest?" asked Cliff. "He broke wineglasses on his head and he won’t let me pick the glass out of his scalp." "How-" "Don't ask! I turned my back for ten seconds and all hell broke loose!" "Typical" Scully said as Abbey made another lunge at Mulder's head He fended her off, flinging more blood on the wall in the process. "Stop. That hurts!" he hissed. "Believe me, Mulder, this hurts me just as much as it hurts you!" Abbey answered. They looked at each other for a long moment, and began to snicker at some inside joke that Scully didn't get. "Man, you're going to need stitches in that." said Cliff, squeezing in to look at the wound. "Duh! You're the surgeon, you do something with him. Our patients behave themselves." Abbey handed Cliff the tweezers and backed up to let Scully have a look. "Your patients are dead, honey" Cliff teased. "See my point?" cried Mulder. "Yes - it's sticking out of your head, and it says 'Waterford' on it" Scully said dryly, feeling a little brusque at having been frightened so badly. "I told you we should have gone out for Chinese!" Mulder said "There's a planetary alignment right now that has a long history of inducing accidents, The Titanic...." "Chinese food is full of MSG! I'm going to open that wine!" Scully muttered, choosing to ignore the planetary alignment bit altogether. “Nice try, Spookster, but we all know you’re just a klutz! I'm going to bathe" Abbey patted Mulder’s hand and headed for the master bedroom. ********************* Downstairs, Scully decided that the kitchen could wait for a few minutes and stepped around the blood and glass on the floor as she rummaged for the opener and some *sturdy* glasses. She contemplated bringing Mulder a plastic cup with a straw, but decided he’d had enough humiliation for one evening. Still shaken up, she leaned a little too hard on the opener. The cork slid down the bottle's neck and Merlot showered both her and the wall. Scully jumped, gasping, and put her hand down squarely on a burner that had been left on. "Ow!" she screamed, running for the cold water. ********************* Upstairs, Abbey, just turning on the water in the tub, felt a wash of pain in her right hand that nearly made her sick. Her knees buckled and she fell, smacking her temple squarely on the faucet. ********************* Cliff had most of the glass out of Mulder's head when they heard the commotion in the kitchen. Mulder started to get up, clearly panicked. “Scully?!?!” he called. “Stay here and clot - I’ll go!” Cliff ran downstairs to see what fresh hell had erupted. Unfortunately, he tripped over a discarded dishtowel on the way down, and blackened his eye on the newel post. "That's it!" he yelled, holding one eye and looking at Scully's hand with the other, "Everybody in the car - we are going to the hospital!". ********************* “In a hurry, sir?” the policeman asked, glaring as Cliff rolled the window down. “You were doing seventy in a thirty-five mile an hour zone.” “I’m a doctor, I’m on my way to the hospital!” Cliff replied, sure that this was the worst night of his entire life. “Sure you are. What happened to your eye?” “I hit it on the newel post while running from one patient to another! I’ve got a laceration, a concussion and a second degree burn to take care of - look at these people!” Cliff leaned forward so the cop could see into the back seat, where he’d piled the wounded. Unfortunately, Scully’s jacket had fallen open, and her gun was clearly visible. “Hey - you got a permit for that?” he asked, his hand moving steadily tothe butt of his own service pistol. “Uh-huh.” Scully clumsily reached inside her jacket, and watched the officer jump a foot. “I’m a federal agent - I’m reaching for my I.D.” She produced her badge and passed it through the window. He looked it over, nodded warily, and returned it. “Any more weapons in the vehicle?” Cliff groaned audibly. “I’ve got Smith and Wesson on my right hip.” Mulder answered, “I’m FBI too” he added before reaching for his own identification. After inspecting it, the policeman turned a sour glance on Cliff. “And I suppose you work for the CIA and you have an Uzi down your back?”Cliff shrugged, and a hint of a smile played across his face “Don’t need one. My fiancee’s got a semiautomatic nine-millimeter Gloc in her purse and is much meaner than I am.” “Also FBI” Abbey groaned, flipping her badge in the general direction of the window. Mulder caught it and passed it the rest of the way through. “Was there a goddam shoot-out or something?” “No, we were making dinner. I told them we shoulda gone out for Chinese!” Mulder replied. “Looks like you were right, buddy. Okay, let’s go - I’ll escort you to the hospital.” ********************* “Hi Dr. Scallini!” called Trudy, the perpetually cheery ER receptionistas they stumbled in through the big front doors. She waved merrily and then stopped, confused. “What happened to your eye? And what’s wrong with all those people?” She leaned over the counter to get a better look. “Long story. Can you get somebody to help me?” “Sure! Why don't you go into exam one, and I’ll call Dr. Roberts”. “Great, thanks.” Cliff led them into a small room whose bright lights made Abbey’s eyes hurt. “Can I take a nap now?” she asked woozily. “No way - one of your pupils is dilated and the other one isn’t, you’vegot a killer concussion.” Cliff answered. “That would explain this headache.” she answered, leaning against him wearily. Scully, meanwhile, was examining her burn disgustedly. “Looks like I’m going to have to learn to be a lefty for a while.” Mulder stroked the top of her head soothingly and promised to do all the paperwork until she healed, which brightened Scully up considerably. “Wow, was there an accident, Cliff?” asked David Roberts coming into the room with a baffled expression on his face. “Several of them.” Cliff said dryly. ********************* “I’m sorry sir, but I can’t give out that information”. Trudy said firmly. Walter Skinner heaved an exasperated sigh and hauled out his ID. Beside him, Maggie Scully and Abbey's parents waited, quiet and tense. The four of them had dropped by Cliff and Abbey's on their way to dinner, which had been postponed when they discovered the carnage in the kitchen. “I have reason to believe that three federal agents were injured tonight - are they here or not?” Skinner repeated. Hearing him, a young, sandy-haired doctor dropped his chart and walked around the counter. “Hi, I’m David Roberts. They’re here and they’re fine - just some minor damage. Why don't you come with me, and I’ll take you to see them.” “What happened?” Gwen Ryan asked anxiously. “We saw the house.....” “Mr. Mulder cut his head while they were making dinner. I’m sure it looks much worse than it is - head wounds always bleed a lot.” Dr. Roberts explained soothingly as he led them down the corridor to a suture room, where Cliff was stitching Mulder’s head up. He was behaving admirably now, though Cliff didn’t know whether to attribute it to the topical anesthesia that had been administered, or the fact that Scully had her head on his knee. Abbey sat on the other side of Mulder, patting his hand, and calling him a “good Mulderkins”. Mulder, busily wallowing in feminine attention, was nearly scared to death when Skinner suddenly appeared in the doorway with panicked parents in tow. Richard Ryan inspected them with confusion. “We know Fox cut his head, but what the hell happened to the rest of you?” “We can explain...” Mulder began, feeling abandoned as his cheerleaders ran to their mothers. “I can’t *wait* to hear this!” Skinner looked amused, now that he knew there wouldn't be any funerals to attend. “Well, go on, explain! And for God’s sake, leave out the Chinese food!” said Cliff. ********************* “This didn’t turn out to be such a bad night after all” Abbey said, yawning. After soothing their parents and sending them off to dinner, they’d mopped up the kitchen and flopped down in a communal heap on the pullout sofa in the den. Since Abbey’s concussion didn’t allow her to sleep, they were having a movie marathon and gorging themselves on fresh strawberries and homemade vanilla whipped cream. Mulder silently concurred with Abbey: Scully was snuggled against him, warm and sleepy, and they were feeding each other - life was great, in his opinion. The movie ended, and the eleven o’ clock news came on. “Could a trip to the supermarket result in a trip to the hospital?” asked the anchorwoman. “Yes!” Scully and Cliff yelled together. “Our top story this evening is a shipment of tainted strawberries delivered to area grocery stores. Bacteria infesting the berries has cause a rash of violent illness...” By this time they were all sitting bolt upright, staring in horror at the television. “I don’t *believe* this!” Scully said “Ewww!” Screeched Abbey, flinging the bowl of strawberries onto a table, as though they were going to jump up and attack her. “What was that you were saying about this not being such a bad night?? I’ll go get the antibiotics....” Cliff said wearily. Scully leaned across Mulder and grabbed the telephone with the air of one who has been pushed too far. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Ordering Chinese food!!! Who’s in for extra MSG?????”