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  This author's e-mail address has changed to: xanaduxf@yahoo.com
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***DISCLAIMER***: All "X-Files" elements and references
in this story belong to Fox Broadcasting, Chris Carter,
and 1013 Productions, and I am making no money from it.

==========

Idle Hands
By shannono
shannono@iname.com


Vignette, Humor, Mulder/Scully UST

Rated PG-13 for some language and adult content

Summary: Idle hands are the devil's playground.

Author's notes at the end

Thanks to Brandon, Paulette, and Robbie for the beta ...
you guys are the bestest betas there is. <g>

===========

Idle Hands
By shannono


When the phone rang, Mulder knew he shouldn't answer it. He
knew exactly who it was, and he knew she would immediately realize
exactly what he'd been doing.

She simply knew him too well.

He wasn't ashamed of it, of course. After today, especially, he
needed to let off some steam, and the late-summer heat of Oklahoma
was a real discouragement to taking a run.

On the other hand, he really didn't want his activities to be so
obvious. Not when she was in the room right next door, at least.

He had two alternatives. He could answer the phone, or he could
let the phone ring, and she'd get worried -- and in another few
minutes she'd be pounding on the door, or even letting herself in.
And the only thing worse than being caught in the act over the
phone ...

So, reluctantly, Mulder removed his hands from his sweat-
slickened body, inhaling and exhaling deeply a couple of times to
even out his breathing. Reaching for the phone on the fourth ring,
he answered with his traditionally brusque "Mulder."

"It's me," Scully said, her voice a little lower and huskier
than normal. "I just wanted to see if you were all right."

Mulder managed not to groan at the unintentionally (he was sure)
sexy tone of her voice, instead sighing softly. "I'm okay, Scully,"
he said, reaching down to flip the edge of the bedspread across his
groin. Somehow, talking to Scully on the phone while he stared at
his erection always seemed ... wrong. Now, if she *knew* he had an
erection, that would be another story ..

Mulder cut that train of thought off quickly. He had promised
himself long ago that he wouldn't allow Scully to enter into his
fantasies -- at least, not the ones he entertained during his
self-gratification sessions. It was cheap and disrespectful, and
she deserved better than that from him. Not to mention how
difficult it would be to concentrate on work every day. 

He'd done pretty well so far, although it was getting more and
more difficult, the closer their relationship became. He'd long
ago lost control of his dreams; she figured in those quite
regularly these days, and the majority of those were the kind
that left him panting -- and not from fear.

But he'd manage to keep her image blocked out of his mind when
he was masturbating. Even if it meant his monthly bill for
porn-on-demand was getting a little ridiculous.

Her voice came through the phone again, pulling him from his
thoughts. "Mulder, I should apologize," she said. "I never
should have let Agent Adamson take the car in the first place.
If I had known ..."

"You couldn't have known, Scully," Mulder interrupted. "He said
he needed the car and you weren't going anywhere; there was no
reason *not* to let him use it. I'm the one who should apologize;
you shouldn't have to put up with this kind of crap."

"Neither should *you*, Mulder," Scully shot back. "I have never
seen such a ridiculous, unprofessional, puerile display in my
entire career, and that's saying a lot."

Mulder's eyes drifted shut as a picture of the "surprise" Agent
Adamson had left for them formed in his mind. Their car had been
decorated from one end to the other, looking like it was all
ready for a newlywed couple to take off for their honeymoon. The
only difference was that the shoe-polished slogans said things
like "UFOs-R-Us" and "Alien Nation," the traditional "Just Married"
sign on the back instead read "Mr. and Mrs. Spooky," and a fake
flying saucer made out of pie pans dangled from the radio antenna.

At the last image, Mulder couldn't help a small, if twisted, smile.
"Well, you have to admit that the flying saucer was inspired," he
said sardonically.

Scully made a sound akin to a snorted laugh. "I'm surprised they
didn't write 'Beam Me Up, Scotty!' across the windshield," she said.
"They thought of just about everything else."

Mulder chuckled, feeling the weight on his chest lightening. "Maybe
we should show up tomorrow in Star Trek officers' uniforms," he
said, reaching for the TV remote and starting to flip channels.
"It's after Labor Day; I imagine Wal-Mart has its Halloween
displays up by now."

He could almost hear Scully's smile through the phone. "Did I ever
tell you about the year I dressed up as Spock?"

Mulder's eyes widened, and he looked at the phone in surprise.
"You did?" he asked, incredulous. "So did I!"

Scully laughed out loud this time, a light sound that shot a
bolt of unbridled joy straight to Mulder's heart. "That's too
funny," she said. "What year was that?"

"Umm, about 1972, I guess," he said, thinking. "I just remember
that I had a hell of a time making the fake ears stay on. They
kept falling off."

"Mine, too," Scully said. "I got so mad about it." She paused,
then said, "You know, Mulder, that might have been the same year.
We had been in San Diego a couple of years, I know, and we moved
there when I was six, which would have been 1970."

"Weird, Scully," Mulder said, a grin spreading across his face.
"Can you imagine? We had the same Halloween costume twenty-seven
years ago. Sounds like an X-file."

"We've certainly seen stranger things," Scully replied.

They fell silent for a few minutes, and Mulder resumed his channel
surfing. He paused on a familiar scene, trying to place it; a crowd
of people in early 20th Century dress were gathered in some sort of
auditorium.

He opened his mouth to ask Scully to take a look and help jog his
memory, but she beat him to it.

"Oh, 'The Music Man' is on!" she exclaimed. "I haven't seen this
in years."

That was it, Mulder realized. "Yeah, I stopped on it and was just
about to ask if you remembered what it was," he said, turning up
the volume to half-listen.

Scully sighed, the sound a little melancholy to Mulder's ears.
"Missy and I used to love this movie," she said in a wistful
voice. "We were actually in a production of it in high school.
Missy played the mayor's daughter, and we got *so* sick of her
walking around saying, 'Ye Gods!'"

Mulder smiled, watching as the townspeople marched smartly out
of the school gymnasium and through the middle of town. "And who
were you, Scully?" he asked in a teasing tone. "Marian the
Librarian?"

Scully made a derisive sound. "Oh, I was just one of the town
girls," she said. "I mainly stood around and giggled in the
background." She laughed. "I remember how incensed Missy was
when she got the shoes for her costume. She had to wear Mary
Janes -- you know, the black shoes with the strap across the
top? When she was about eight, all she wanted for Christmas was
a pair of Mary Janes. And not just any Mary Janes, either --
they *had* to be Hush Puppies. Well, money was tight that year,
and Mom just couldn't afford Hush Puppies, so she bought a
cheaper brand. Missy was *so* disappointed.

"And then, when she got the shoes for her costume, they were
Hush Puppies, the exact shoes she had wanted. Of course, she
didn't want them at age 16, so she was just mad about the whole
thing."

Mulder chuckled, watching as salesman-cum-con artist Harold
Hill miraculously transformed the town's school board into
a full four-part barbershop quartet in a matter of seconds.
"You know, Scully, I used to have a major crush on Shirley
Jones," he said.

Silence reigned for long moments, and then Mulder heard a
muffled laugh. "You're kidding," Scully said.

"Nope," he said. "I watched 'The Partridge Family' every week
for my fix. All the other guys my age were hot for Susan Dey,
but I was all over Shirley."

This time, Scully laughed out loud. "Oh, Mulder, I'm just
imagining you at 13, lusting after Shirley Jones with all those
pubescent hormones," she said between chuckles.

"Oh, sure, laugh it up at my expense," Mulder said, smiling
despite his words. "And I'll bet you had a major thing for David
Cassidy, didn't you? I can just picture you and all your *pre*-
pubescent friends, giggling over whether he wore briefs, boxers,
or bikinis."

Scully made a derisive sound. "No question there; he was too
uptight to be anything but a tightie-whitie guy all the way,"
she said. "No, I didn't think too much of David. I always
preferred Danny Bonaduce myself. I think maybe it was the
red hair."

Mulder couldn't help himself; he laughed at that. "Danny
Bonaduce?" he said. "I can't believe you just said that,
Scully. Oh, man ..."

"Well, I actually preferred *Shaun* Cassidy, if you must know,"
Scully said defensively. "And at least *they* were *somewhat*
close to my age."

Mulder smiled and shook his head. "Scully, Scully," he said.
"The things to be learned from late-night phone conversations.
You certainly have a lot of secrets, don't you?"

"And you don't?" Scully retorted archly.

"Well, I have to keep my air of mystery, you know," he said.
A seed of an idea was growing in the back of his mind, spurred
on by their discussion of childhood memories, and he grinned.
"Hey, Scully, are you doing anything right now?" he asked.

"You mean other than talking to you?" Scully answered dryly.
"Why, no, Mulder. What could I possibly be doing in my room,
alone, at eleven o'clock at night?"

Teasing sarcasm was laced through her words, and Mulder felt
himself blush lightly, realizing she *did* know exactly what
he'd been doing when she'd called. He cleared his throat a 
little nervously, then forged ahead. "I have an idea of how 
to give Agent Adamson a little back," he said. "You up for 
it?"

"I should be asking *you* that question, Mulder," Scully said,
obviously relishing the chance to tease him a little.

Mulder blushed more deeply. "Um ... Scully, I ..."

"None of my business, Mulder," Scully interrupted dismissively.
"Now, what's your plan?"

Mulder smiled a slow, mischievous smile. "Adamson's out on a
stakeout until two," he said. "Isn't his room on the other
side of yours?"

==========

It was well after three when Agent Brian Adamson finally made
it back to his motel room, and he was more than ready to fall
into bed. Unfortunately, a late, heavy dinner and way too
much coffee had left his stomach complaining, so he had to
make a pit stop first.

Flipping on the lamp next to the front window, Adamson locked
the door behind him and started stripping off his suit and
shoes as he headed into the bathroom. His pants and underwear
were shoved down to his ankles, and he lowered himself onto
the seat.

He was met with something cold and slimy.

"Shit!" He jumped up, reached over to turn on the bathroom 
light and looked down at the plastic-wrap-and-Vaseline rigged 
across the seat.

Cursing under his breath, Adamson grabbed for the toilet paper --
only to find it gone.

"Fuck!" he yelled, turning to yank a towel off the rack instead,
using it to wipe himself off. He ripped off the plastic wrap and
stuffed it in the trash can, then sat down and finished his
business -- only to remember that he had no toilet paper.

"Dammit!"

He cleaned himself up best he could, then headed for the bed in
just his underwear, pulling back the bedspread and lifting up 
the covers to slip underneath.

His legs went only halfway down.

"Fuck!" he bellowed, kicking futilely at the sheet, succeeding
only in tangling it around his legs.

Still cursing, he got out of bed and rearranged the sheets,
then climbed back in and stewed.

==========

Next door, Mulder and Scully each held a glass against the wall
to amplify the sounds, stifling giggles as they listened to 
Adamson's muffled curses. His face alight with laughter, Mulder
leaned toward Scully and whispered, "Wait 'til he gets his wake-
up call at five."

Scully arched an eyebrow. "Wait 'til he gets his bill at
check-out," she said.

Mulder's eyes widened. "You didn't ..."

"Yep," she said, stepping away from the wall and smiling
evilly. "Took care of that while you were getting the key. He
just spent all night watching pay-per-view porn. Can't wait 
for him to explain *that* on his expense report."

Mulder grinned. "You are one devious woman, Agent Scully," he
said, reaching out to squeeze her hand lightly.

She squeezed right back. "You're not so bad yourself, Agent
Mulder," she returned. "Now, get out of here and let me get
some sleep."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, heading for the door. Then he stopped
and glanced back over his shoulder. "Uh, Scully, you didn't
do anything *else* while I was getting the key ..."

Scully laughed and shoved him toward the door. "You're safe,
Mulder," she said. "Just be careful, 'cause you never know
when I may strike ..."

Opening the door, Mulder shot her a look. "Careful?" he said.
"Maybe you should remember whose idea this was in the first
place. I have not even scratched the surface of my repertoire
of pranks."

He was gone before he could hear response. "Neither have I,
Mulder," she murmured, smirking. "Neither have I ..."

==========END==========

Author's notes: This story was written for the weekly Scullyfic
at the Improv madness. The way it works: An author is given five
elements by other list members and has to fit them into a story,
in any way possible. So here are the elements I had to work in:

Hush Puppies
Scully catching Mulder in the middle of a self-gratification session
The boxers vs. briefs vs. bikinis discussion (for men)
A fake flying saucer
A men's barbershop quartet

I can't believe I got the second one in without devolving into