From: Lisa Stiles Date: Sat, 11 Sep 2010 00:57:02 -0700 (PDT) Subject: Story submission Source: direct TITLE: Queen For a Day AUTHOR: Bugmouthga E-MAIL: bugmouthga@yahoo.com DISTRIBUTION: Archive freely- please let me know RATING: PG CATEGORIES: Story KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully UST, song fic SPOILERS: Up through season 6 SUMMARY: Pure fluff about a stakeout, Mulder and Scully in a car and a radio playing music by Queen. Disclaimer: X-Files characters belong to FOX Corporation and 1013. Author's Notes: Queen is one of my favorite bands- behind the Beatles- and it just seemed like the kind of music Mulder might have enjoyed as a kid. This story isn't the most thought provoking thing I've ever written, but hopefully you'll just be able to sit back and have a little fun reading it. I'd love to hear your comments about in an email. "Queen For A Day" Friday Evening FBI headquarters Nearly quitting time It was not something that Mulder would readily admit to, but he had been listening to the songs from his youth a lot lately. He was not quite sure why. Of course, there was always the nostalgic factor; that special feeling a person got from remembering oneself at a young age, recalling each blossoming moment, each humiliation, each milestone. For some, it was in a person's youth that they felt safe with, comfortable. Many people revisited the past because they had peaked during their tenderhood, and felt they had nothing to look forward to in the present they were now facing, nor in the foreseeable future, which they knew would never be as good as what they had once had. Mulder gave it a little bit of thought and decided that none of those reasons applied to him. Not directly; not in any conscious way he was aware of. It was just lately, he'd had this strange urge to listen to his old Queen albums. Unfortunately, they had been so full of scratches, he had a hard time listening to anything. It sounded more like a catfight to him, so he'd promised himself that night after work he would stop by the closest music store and treat himself to a new CD. He never made it. Instead, he found himself in a parked car with his lovely partner, Agent Scully, but not in any way he would have liked. No, the two had been summarily loaned out to another department by Skinner- without being asked how they might feel about such an assignment, by the way- for a stakeout. A boring stakeout. They were actually one of many teams strategically placed among a two-mile radius of an anticipated drug deal. The man they were all searching for was named Phillip Bradley, otherwise known as Philly the Pill. He was the kind of guy who would sell drugs to pre-schoolers if they had enough cash on them. He also wasn't adverse to a murder or two now and then, sometimes to protect his turf, sometimes to discourage others from not paying him what was owed, sometimes just for kicks. Stretching out his neck and shoulders, Mulder groaned, unhappy with his cramped atmosphere, although he had to admit the view was particularly sweet. Ignoring the barren, dilapidated slum around him, he instead concentrated on the beautiful face of Dana Scully. Agent Scully was currently reading the run-down report on the fugitive they were hoping to find- or not to find, depending on who you asked. Both agents had had a tough week. Both were privately hoping Mr. Bradley would show up on someone else's stretch of road this evening. "Jeez, Mulder," Scully sighed, shaking her head as her eyes strained to read in the dim light of the moon. "This Bradley sounds like a real winner." Mulder had read the same report earlier and he nodded in agreement, all the while, removing a bag of sunflower seeds from his pocket. "Oh, you mean like how he tries to get nine year olds addicted to crack in order to insure customers for life, or how he dabbles in prostitution and beats up the hookers?" "He does?" Scully asked in surprise and alarm. "I must not have gotten that far yet. Damn! I was just sickened by his rap sheet and sleazy picture." Leaning in close to her, Mulder glanced down at the page she was on. He recalled with vivid detail the face of the monster they were currently hunting without having to look at it, but he secretly enjoyed the closeness to Scully. "Yep, a real looker, huh." Scully snorted and rolled her eyes. "Right. Frankly, the flukeman we came across all those years ago is better looking, not to mention probably a lot more charming." He chuckled appreciatively at her sarcasm. He was definitely rubbing off on her, the longer they worked together, the more time they spent with each other. Mulder was pretty good at sarcasm. But he was even better at self- depreciation. "Yes, the flukeman was pretty cute. And to think, you're stuck having to stare at me every day." "Mulder," she sighed, trying to gauge his mood, wondering if he was really insulting himself again, or merely fishing for compliments. She decided it was probably a little bit of each. "Of course I'd rather look at you than the flukeman every day." "Yeah...?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in a hopeful expression. A wicked smile appeared on a beautiful set of lips. "Sure, Mulder," Scully readily agreed. "I mean, you don't smell as bad, and you've never tried to bite me." "Oh, Scully," Mulder replied in a conspirational whisper, "never say never." Even in the dim moonlight, Mulder could see the fair skin of his partner's face turn a pleasant pink, and this delighted him to no end. Yeah, you still got it, boy! You da man! Scully remained awkwardly silent for a moment, not sure what to say. Mulder had a way of sometimes painting her into a figurative corner with his suggestive remarks and saucy comebacks. She stared out the passenger side window, not really seeing anything outside, but rather reflecting inwardly on her barely hidden feelings for the man sitting next to her. Embarrassing her into silence had not been Mulder's plan, but somehow he'd managed to stun Scully into a quiet lull yet again. Without thinking, he turned on the car radio, began fiddling with the dial, looking for some tunes. Skipping over a silly pop song and an indecipherable rap tune, Mulder's search ended in satisfaction, when he inadvertently came across a classic rock station. Just as he had been thinking about for the past couple of weeks, a song by Queen was playing. "I've paid my dues time after time I've done my sentence, though committed no crime And bad mistakes; I've made a few..." "Ooh, Queen," Mulder squealed in delight. Scully shut off the radio. "Mulder, we're working," she scolded him, although it was half-hearted at best. She had the feeling this was a battle she was going to lose, despite knowing that she was right. "So, we're just looking for some nasty-ass punk," he argued absently, reaching over and turning the radio back on. "It's not like it's a liver-eating mutant or murderous genetically designed twins or anything." She reached for the dial. "A monster is a still a monster, no matter what the package looks like, Mulder. And finding him is a priority." "I know that," he snapped at her, turning the radio back on. "But I don't see why we can't sit here and listen to Queen while we're waiting for him." "It's unprofessional," she lectured, citing silly, little facts he already knew and could have cared less about. "We need to concentrate on the matter at hand." "So? I can watch for a killer and still enjoy We Are the Champions, Scully." The song resumed. "No, we can't," she insisted. "Or at least, we shouldn't." Freddy Mercury was silenced once again. "Why the hell not?" he challenged her, feeling a little defiant, a little angry and a little childish finding himself in this stupid situation. This was not exactly what he had wanted to do on a Friday night. Sure, he enjoyed hanging out with his partner over the weekend, but stakeouts- especially stakeouts that had nothing to do with the X-Files- were boring and he would rather have invited her over for Chinese takeout and a movie, an occurrence that was becoming commonplace with them. After he turned the radio on again, Scully stubbornly reached for the knob once more to turn it back off. "Mulder," she hissed in irritation, suddenly recalling lazy Sunday afternoons and being tortured by her older brother, Bill. "Knock it off!" And Mulder did just that. Not purposely of course, but he did reach for the knob again, at the same time as Scully tried to deflect his assault and they somehow managed to break the knob off. At least the radio had been in the "on" position at the time, leaving the frustrated FBI agents free to enjoy the music while they sat, seething at each other. "Dammit, Mulder," Scully sighed, looking down at her palm, which held the broken knob. "Dammit, Scully," Mulder mimicked her. "Well, we broke the radio," she stated the obvious. "Hey, you're the one holding the knob," he retorted playfully, his anger subsiding. He wanted to kiss and make up; or at least make up. He rarely got the chance for kissing when it came to his partner. It just wasn't their way. With another world-weary sigh, Scully dropped the knob into the unused ashtray. "It's a company car," she reminded him. "Yep." After a long silence, Scully asked, "And you're not the least bit concerned?" "Not really." "But Mulder..." "Scully," he offered her a sigh of his own. "Look, I'm sorry for acting like such an ass, but it's been a long week, we're both tired and run down and I don't really want to be on a stakeout tonight and I just felt like listening to the radio. And as luck would have it, they're playing a Queen song, which I've been really wanting to hear lately for some reason, so why don't we just savor my victory and enjoy?" "The song's over," she pointed out. He was about to curse his luck, but the fates seemed to be smiling on him for once, as the radio DJ announced the continuation of their Friday night Queen marathon. "All right," Mulder said in delight, as Killer Queen began to play. He started tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in tune to the beat. Soon he found himself humming the song. Not long after, he was singing along outright. He paused when he noticed his partner staring at him, her mouth agape. "What's the matter, Scully?" he asked. "Don't you like Queen?" "Well, sure, I guess," she replied with a smirk. "Although not as much as you do, apparently." "Mock me, if you must, Scully, but I've always enjoyed Queen- well, their music, anyway. Man, they were still kicking ass back when I was in high school!" "Of course, you are older than I am," she reminded him, grinning devilishly. He relished the pretty sight. "Oh yeah, a whole two and a half years! How did we ever bridge that generation gap?" Scully laughed at his remark; an actual rare, one-of- a-kind, Scully chuckle. It was more music to his ears than anything on the radio and it made him smile in turn. "You've got a beautiful laugh, Scully," he blurted. Becoming self-conscious, even over a compliment, Scully immediately stopped laughing and turned her head away. She quickly changed the subject. "You do know what this song is about, don't you, Mulder?" she asked, putting him in the spotlight once more. "Sure," he told her, with a grin. "It's about the alien queen, right? You know, the one Sigourney Weaver beats up with the power loader?" Again, Scully let go with a belly laugh, unable to stop herself. Mulder refrained from complimenting her this time, but he did reach out to caress her hand in appreciation. "Mulder, you're such a geek sometimes, it astounds me! This song is about a drag queen!" "No!" he stuttered in mock surprise. "You don't say." "Mulder!" "Jeez, Scully! Next thing you know, you'll be telling me that the band called themselves Queen because they were gay!" "Well, I don't know if they were all gay. But Freddy Mercury is." He shook his head at her in mock-annoyance. "And you call me a geek, Scully?" "Hardy, har, har," she muttered good-naturedly at him. They quieted for a moment again, listening to the music, until Scully asked him, "So, what were your plans for this evening, Mulder? Were you... eh, supposed to meet someone else? Like the Gunmen, or... something?" He understood the real question hidden within and he liked that she wanted to know. "Well, I had wanted to stop at the music store and pick up a Queen's greatest hits CD. Then I was going to call and ask if you wanted to do dinner and a movie." "But you've got Queen on the radio and you're here with me now and complaining about it," she informed him, raising her eyebrow at him. He chuckled, loving her endearing, trademark expression. "Believe me, Scully, it's not the company I'm complaining about here. Just the atmosphere. I mean, wouldn't you rather be hanging out at my place, watching Mystery Science Theater or listening to Freddy Mercury sing about alien queens and nerds overcoming the odds instead of sitting in a stuffy car, waiting for a drug dealing psycho to sneak up on us?" "Or, we could have gone to the movies," Scully suggested. "There's an Ingmar Bergman film festival playing at the Bijou." "Frankly, I'd rather be stuck in the car," he told her, then laughed at her frowning face and narrowed eyes. "Mulder!" "Just kidding, Scully!" he assured her, realizing that he was still touching her hand and that neither one of them had complained about it or tried to pull away; a new record for them. He took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. "Either way," he said, gazing at her meaningfully, "I'm just glad you're here with me." She smiled and squeezed back. "Me, too." * * * Two hours later... In that same car... "Oh, come on, Scully, let's do it!" "But Mulder-" "No, buts, Scully, we're running out of time!" "But here, in the car?" "Why not? Isn't that traditionally where we're supposed to be doing it?" "But we're still on duty, technically." "Well, technically, I don't give a rat's ass, so let's just go for it. Come on, Scully, if we're gonna do this, it has to be now. The moment is upon us!" "Mulder, I feel weird about this." "Come on, Scully, do it with me, please? Pleeeeeaaassseee?" "Fine! Just quit your whining and get ready, then!" The two agents, listening to Bohemian Rhapsody suddenly started to do head-banging movements, a la Wayne's World. This lasted only for approximately three seconds, when both of them stopped just as suddenly, each grasping at their heads. "Ow," Scully complained. "Damn, how did Mike Myers do that for so long?" Mulder wondered, reeling from the head rush. "The things you talk me into doing, Mulder," she groaned, still in pain and amazed at how easily her partner could seemingly talk her into doing the most insane things on a whim. "Just be glad we didn't bump heads," he told her. "Now that would have hurt! Hey, did you just admit that I could talk you into anything?" He waggled his eyebrows mischievously at her. Before she had a chance to retort, one of their cell phones rang, startling them both. It turned out to be Scully's. She answered it and spoke for only a moment before hanging up. "Well, this is it, Mulder. The moment we've been waiting for has arrived." "Why?" he asked playfully. "Was that the radio station telling you that they're going to play the Flash Gordon theme?" "God, no!" she told him. "Nothing that bad. No, we just have to keep our eyes open, as Mr. Bradley has been spotted in the area and heading this way." "Damn," Mulder muttered. "Why do we always have the crappiest luck?" They turned at the sound of a vehicle approaching. The two FBI agents watched as Phillip Bradley, the fugitive they'd been waiting for, appeared out of the vehicle, holding a gun in one hand and yanking an unfortunate man along with him. "Oh, my God, Mulder," Scully said in alarm. "He's going to..." "Let's move!" Mulder cut in, not wanting to give their fugitive a chance to add another notch to his gun belt. As quick as a flash, the partners exited the vehicle, their own weapons drawn and ready for a fight. The killer and drug dealer had his victim kneeling before him, facing away, with his hands behind his head. He aimed his gun carefully, preparing to pull the trigger, when he heard, "Freeze, FBI!" "Son of a bitch!" he hissed, then, turned and started firing blindly, before even getting a real look at who he was shooting at. "Ahhhh! Scully, I'm hit!" Mulder grunted in pain, falling to his knees while clutching at his side and staring in horror at the blood flowing out between his fingers at the bullet's entryway. Narrowing her eyes in determination and honest-to- goodness hatred, Scully carefully aimed her own weapon and took down Mr. Bradley in one shot. Knowing he was not fatally wounded, she ignored him for the moment, calling for back up and an ambulance, then checking on her partner. "Mulder, you okay?" she asked gently, even as the doctor hands began their examination. "Hurts like hell, Scully," he wheezed. "You're going to be all right, though," she assured him with a heartfelt smile. She squeezed his hand. "I'll be right back, okay?" "Yeah," he replied through gritted teeth, watching as his beautiful partner, own private doctor and guardian angel, momentarily left his side to check on Phillip Bradley and the man he had been preparing to kill. Already, ambulance sirens could be heard in the distance and fast approaching. Scully returned to him shortly, kneeling beside him and allowing him to rest his head on her shoulder. "I knew this stakeout was a bad idea," he grumbled, trying to distract himself from the pain. "I should have known something like this would happen!" "Still, it could have been a lot worse," Scully reasoned with him. "How?" he asked in disbelief, wondering what she thought could be worse than seeing her beloved partner get shot. "Well, they could have played the Flash Gordon song on the radio tonight," she replied in all seriousness. As much pain as he was in, Mulder actually had to chuckle. Scully's healing powers weren't limited to medical procedures. Just her touch and her humor could work wonders for him. "Nah, you would have liked how I sing it," he murmured. "Shh, quiet now," she told him, running her cool fingers across his brow. "Just rest, Mulder. The ambulance will be here in a second." "Ride with me?" he asked. "Of course." "Sing to me?" he asked, hopefully. "Oh, Mulder, didn't you learn your lesson back in Florida?" "Please?" She rolled her eyes. "What's your pleasure?" "Queen, of course," he whimpered. "Ah, yes, we have a theme going here, don't we? Let's see now... Pressure, pushing down on me Pressing down on you..." Mulder closed his eyes and smiled, Scully's low monotone botching Freddy Mercury's genius and simultaneously blocking out his pain. * * * He had spent the night in the hospital, his beautiful, loving partner sitting at his bedside the whole time. When he had awoken the next morning, he noticed that same beautiful partner speaking to his surgeon. Still groggy after surgery and the benefits of a shot of morphine, Mulder had trouble listening to what they were saying. It didn't take a genius to see that they were speaking about him. Yet in his fuzzy mind, he couldn't concentrate on much of it anyway. He didn't worry. He knew that Scully would take care of him. She always did. Gotta marry that woman someday, he promised himself in his addled state. Or at least, shack up with her... A few moments later, just as his eyes were beginning to droop shut again, Scully had come over, sat next to him on the edge of the bed. She took his hand in hers, which was warm and soft and comforting, yet strong and protective, just like the woman it was connected to. Mulder smiled goofily up at her and told her she was "as smart as Yoda and as pretty as Princess Leia". "And you're as high as a kite right about now, Agent Mulder," she replied with a chuckle. "I love you, you know," he said next, sighing dreamily while staring into her lovely, blue eyes. She gazed into his equally lovely hazel ones, unable to hide her blush. "Yes, you tell me that every time you're under the influence of some powerful medication." "I know," he admitted, his eyes closing involuntarily. "But I still mean it." Scully's wide smile grew reflective, and she ducked her head for a moment, her face hidden behind the soft, red locks of her hair. Had he not been so high, Mulder probably would have realized that she'd just needed a moment to compose herself. Which she did. Scully decided on the change the subject tactic, one of her favorite ways of evading the truth about their feelings for each other. For Mulder, it was usually sarcasm, with Scully, avoidance. "The doctor says you can get out of here later today, if you behave yourself." "Damn," Mulder mumbled behind closed eyes. "You didn't tell him that I usually don't, did you?" She laughed again. "Nah. Thought I'd spare the nursing staff the agony of having to look after you for another night." "How thoughtful of... you," he retorted tiredly. "So... who is, then? Going to look after me?" "Who do you think?" she came back with, wearing a smirk she knew he could see even with his eyes closed. "Um... Skinner?" he asked, mock-hopefully. "No," she said in all seriousness. "Even better. I got Kersch." "Aw, Scully, you are too kind," he slurred, drooling as he laughed. Without a word about it, Scully wiped the spittle from his chin with her finger. "Yes, I suppose I am," she agreed. "Listen, I've got to head back to my place, get the guest room ready and then stop at the store for some groceries. I'll be back really soon, okay?" He clutched at her hand. "Hurry?" "Don't I always for you?" "Yeah," he murmured, smiling. "I can always count on you..." She grinned back at him, although believing him to have fallen asleep. She caressed his brow with her lips, as she ran her fingers through his messy hair. "Sleep tight, Mulder," she whispered, turning around and heading for the door. "Scully?" he called to her before she could leave the room, opening his eyes suddenly and trying to sit up. "Yeah?" "I know why about Queen now," he rambled, nearly incoherent on morphine and fatigue. "You do, huh?" she humored him. "Yeah. It's the song. It's that song. It's how I feel... about you..." "Which one?" she asked in confusion. It had better not be "Fat Bottomed Girls"... "You're My Best Friend," he sing-songed as he drifted back off to sleep. Scully smiled, although she did not recall this particular song herself. Leaving the hospital room, she whipped out her cell phone and hit number seven on her speed dial. "Yeah, hey Frohike, it's Scully. Turn off the tape... Listen, I've got a question... No, Mulder's okay. I mean, he was shot, but not anywhere particularly dangerous this time... No, I'm not the one who shot him!... Come on, I haven't done that in years and it was for his own good, if you recall... Anyway, can you get online and look up some song lyrics for me?... Um, yeah, it's for a certain case... Okay, it's called You're My Best Friend by Queen... Yes, I'll hold. I appreciate it. Thanks... No, I will not repay you with a date... No, I won't sleep with you, either. Just get me the damn lyrics. Thank you." A few minutes later, Frohike gave her the lyrics over the phone, singing to her in a gravelly and weird sort of voice. The voice disturbed her. The lyrics touched her. She thanked Frohike once more and hung up before he could say anything else to her in that voice again. With a new sense of purpose and determination, Scully left the hospital, a new stop being added to her route. * * * "Ooh, you make me live. Whatever this world can't give to me It's you; you're all I see! Ooh, you make me live now, honey. Ooh, you make me live. Aw, you're the best friend that I ever had. I've been with you such a long time. You're my sunshine And I want you to know that my feelings are true; I really love you! Aw, you're my best friend..." Mulder woke up when the nurse had come in to change his dressing. She was wearing- aside from a set of scrubs that sported Strawberry Shortcake on them- an amused expression and that's when he realized that he had been singing. But he had heard music, hadn't he? Of course, he was still a little loopy from the medication, so it was possible he had imagined it, but it seemed so real. He then realized something else. "Scully?" he asked the nurse plaintively. "The pretty red-headed doctor?" she asked and he nodded as vigorously as a man doped up on morphine could do. "Well, she said she would be back soon. Your surgeon has agreed to discharge you into her care. Normally you would stay in the hospital for another few days, but she said she would look after you personally." He smiled at the thought. Home cooked meals and having his gorgeous partner nursing him back to health sure beat the hell out of nasty hospital food and new faces at the change of every shift. "Yeah," he sighed. "You're lucky to have a girlfriend who's a doctor," the nurse went on innocently. "God, what I wouldn't give to have my husband know how to look after me if I was recovering from surgery. As it is, I can't even trust him to take care of me if I have the flu!" Nodding sympathetically at her, and not bothering to correct her on the fact that he and Scully were not technically, boyfriend and girlfriend, Mulder then realized that the song he'd been singing was the Queen song he had wanted to hear lately. And he had wanted to listen to it because it reminded him so much of he and Scully. And that's when he further realized that the song was playing on the CD player someone had placed on the table beside his bed. Next to the CD player was a vase full of pink carnations with a card that read, "Get Well Soon. Love, Scully." And resting against the vase that held the pretty flowers was the CD case. Mulder tried to focus on it, found that he couldn't, so he reached for it. Unable to grab it, the nurse snatched it and handed it to him. He read the cover. Queen's Greatest Hits, Volume One. "Where'd this come from?" he asked, scratching his head in amazement and confusion. "Oh, it was delivered just a few minutes ago, along with the flowers and CD player by three... um, guys. They were all dressed kind of... weird, and the little, old guy kept giving me the eye. It really creeped me out." Mulder laughed out loud. "Yeah, Frohike will do that to you." Then he noticed the unamused expression on the nurse's face. "Uh... sorry about that." "Anyway," the nurse went on, "I need to get your discharge papers in order. Dr. Scully said she'd be back within a half hour to pick you up." "Great. Thanks." Sitting up a little, feeling a tinge of pain in his side, Mulder focused on the little card resting amongst the flurry of pink in the vase. He then noticed that something had been written below Scully's signature, in very small print. "Want a closer look?" the nurse asked, finishing up with his dressing. "Yes, please." She handed it to him. "Okay, I'll go get your paperwork. Just relax. And realize that you're going to be in a little discomfort, especially as that morphine shot wears off, which its probably doing so as we speak. Don't worry, though. Your girlfriend said she was going to fill a prescription of painkillers for you." "Oh, okay, thanks," Mulder mumbled absently, instead looking down at the small floral card written in Scully's efficient but lovely hand. Beneath her signature she had written, "I knew you had been wanting this, so here's a little get well present. If you promise me you'll behave for the next month or so while you recover, I'll give you volume two." The young nurse grabbed his chart, glanced at it, then did a double take. "How many times has this guy been shot?" she murmured quietly to herself in disbelief. "Holy...." Her thought was finished outside. Not even realizing that the nurse had left, Mulder sighed happily, then winced in pain. He gritted his teeth for a moment, enduring the burning sensation in his body until it subsided a little. Then he concentrated on the song still going on the CD player. "Ooh, you make me live. Whenever this world is cruel to me I've got you to help me forgive. (Woo-ooh-ooh!) Ooh, you make me live now, honey. Ooh, you make me live Aw, you're the first one when things turn out bad You know I'll never be lonely You're my only one and I love the things I really love the things that you do Aw, you're my best friend Ooh, you make me live! "I'm happy at home You're my best friend. Aw! Aw, you're my best friend Ooh, you make me live! Ooh, you're my best friend!" Mulder smiled, satisfied that the message he had tried to get across to his beloved Scully just might actually have been received and even acknowledged! He looked forward to a week of being babied and bitched at by the woman he loved. The End