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Scully, Where's My Car	By : Beaverhausen13 Category: S through Z > X-Files Views: 1019 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Files. I make no money from this. Fo' shotally.

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Title: Scully, Where's my Car?
Author: Pepperstasia Beaverhausen (writing as gillianinchains)
Rating: NC-17
Categories: Humor, unusual MSR, slash-n-substances
Spoilers: nope
timeline: When Mulder was around...B/A (before abduction) sob! I miss him already!
summary: M&S can't remember what happened the night before
Author's notes and the disclaimer: The characters of Fox William Mulder and Dana Katherine Scully are not mine. Duh, Dude! They *are* the property of C.C. and co., and the title is also a shameless rip off of that movie "Dude, Where's My Car", however, it does not actually pertain to any of the actual events in the movie therein. Also, anyone who doesn't dig the whole "Mulder and Scully doing drugs" because "Drugs are bad!" should really just plow on outie, cause like the kids, they're gonna do 'em anyway.

Sunday Morning
Fox Mulder's Apartment

                My head feels like it's been stuffed with rocks. I haven't opened my eyes yet for the simple fact that they feel like they've been glued shut. Plus, my mouth has all the texture of your average cotton ball. Whatever. I usually wake up like this after a hard case on a Sunday.
                Until I hear a body shifting next to mine under the blanket, and feel soft female skin coming in contact with my own. I force my eyes open, they begin to focus, and...
                Holy shit.
                At least we're in my bed. We being Scully and I. Which is good, because now the mirror over my bed gives a visual aid along with tactile sensation. Scully is still in deep repose, and she shifts a little more into my body, her arm flinging across my chest as her mussed-copper head nestles into the crook between my neck and shoulder. I cautiously peek under the blanket. Yep, neither of us have a stitch on. Well, that's not entirely true. I am still wearing my socks.
                How the hell did *this* happen?
                It's not like I haven't dreamed about this moment. I've wanted to wake up naked next to Scully for almost seven years, but if I can't remember the events that led up to this moment, what good does that do me?
******************************************************************************************************
                 I guess it all started three days ago. Yet another anonymous informant e-mailed me with details on a series of possible abductions that had occurred in the past five weeks. The alleged abductees were all relatively young, heterosexual couples that had attended underground warehouse parties in or around the D.C. area each Saturday, one couple each week, all cases ending up in the couples vanishing without a trace. Of course, right away I believed we had a case. And of course, Scully being Scully, immediately disagreed with me. She didn't think it was an X-file, that at most it was a missing persons case and therefore out of our jurisdiction. Until I was e-mailed on Friday morning with eyewitness accounts of a bright flash of light before each disappearance, and an anomalous goo found on each of the victims' shoes, which was the only trace of hard evidence that the couples had been there in the first place. Along with that information was the location of the next Saturday night warehouse party. All of this I brought to Skinner, and he agreed that it *did* fall under the X-file watch. Skinner gave orders that we were to go undercover the following Saturday, blending in "by any means necessary".
                  I remember Scully looking sexy as hell. That's pretty much all I remember, but when I picked her up at 10:00 on Saturday night, it was enough. Not for the case, but at least for me. Her hair was in natural waves, which helped her appear younger, and she was wearing a teeny-bopperish, screen-printed pink sleeveless top that clung to her like a second skin and bared a nice patch of her abdomen. Guess what her shirt read? Jailbait. No joke. In dark pink lettering, no less. Completing her outfit was a short, electric blue hip hugging mini-skirt and knee-length black platform boots. I snickered at her, "Copying your look from the latest issue of 'Seventeen', Scully?"
                  She scowled at me, "At least I don't look like I just walked off the cover of 'Gay Raver Boy' magazine." she retorted, "Lose the visor, Mulder. It doesn't go with the rest of your outfit."
                  So I tossed it. I do have to admit, it really didn't go with tight black leather pants and the poly-pleather clingy button-down shirt with flames printed on the bottom. Even if it was printed in flames. Scully unbuttoned the first three buttons of my shirt, "There. Now you don't scream 'I'm an undercover federal agent.'" she laughed.
                  And we were off.
********************************************************************************************************
                  Those are the only details of last night I can remember clearly. Scully's breathing has grown irregular. I think she's starting to realize what's going on. Now her breathing has stopped entirely. And in 3...2...1...
                  "Mulder?!"
                  Here we go. Obviously, she doesn't remember anything, either. Fuckin' eh. Now how am I supposed to know how we hopped on the good foot to do the bad thing?
                  Scully sits up like a shot, uncovering me and my goods in the process. Hello, morning wood. I grab a sheet and hastily cover myself as she tears into me.
                  "Mulder, what the *fuck* happened last night?" she says loudly. Her voice rips through my hangover addled brain like a knife into my skull.
                  "Scully, could you keep it down! ow!" is my first response, followed by, "Besides, I don't remember what happened last night, either."
                   Scully's eyes blaze angrily, but she does lower her voice. I think the yelling hurt her head, too, "So, you're telling me that not only did we wake up in this present condition, but we have no way of finding out what happened to any evidence we may have collected last night?" she growls at me.
                   Before I can retort, my telephone rings. Scully gives a disgruntled sigh and pulls the blanket over her head, flopping back against the pillow on *my* favorite side of the bed. We had to have had sex. I answer the phone, "Yeah, h'lo?" I say tiredly. And why does every muscle in my body ache?
                   "Dude, is this Fox?" an achingly bright female voice asks.
                   "Yeah, this is he." I say slowly.
                   "What's up?! It's Pepper! Dude! Is my girl there?" the girl whose name is Pepper asks me.
                   "Your...girl?" I am so confused right now.
                   "Yeah, dude, my *girl*. You know; Dana? The superfly honey who was all over the both of us last night? Are you hung over, dude? Anyhoover, I tried calling her place to see if she wanted to hook up with me, Nicole, and Dorothy, and since she wasn't home..."
                   "Yes, she's here, um...Dude." I say. Scully pokes her head out from under the blanket inquisitively.
                   "Sexy Fox got some booty last night! Ow Ow!" Pepper barks to my aching head's dismay, "Not like it was a big surprise or anything, you guys were attached to each other like barnacles half the night. So, how was it?"
                   "I don't remember." I say lamely. But it's true. I don't.
                   Pepper laughs, "Yeah dude, whatever. Let me talk to her sexyness."
                   "Pepper, can you hold on a second?" I ask her.
                   "Sure thing."
                   I put my hand over the receiver and turn to Scully, "Your new girlfriend is on the phone. I didn't know you swung both ways."
                   "What?" she hisses at me.
                   "Her name's Pepper. She sounds cute." I joke. Hey, I've got to take the edge off this awkward feeling I have. I'm still naked, she's still naked, and now we have an eyewitness account of something going on between the two of us, "Just play along. *She*, at least, knows a little about what went on last night. Unlike the two of us." I say, handing her the phone.
                   While Scully is talking the mysterious Pepper, “Queen of the "Dude” vernacular, I look around my room for something to cover my body. Boy, do I ever have to pee, too. Luckily, turning my head, I see my boxers draped over my lampshade. I hastily retrieve them, slip them on and make a dash for the bathroom. After taking care of business, I grab some Ibuprophen for the hangover. Literally. The whole bottle. I walk out with it in hand just as Scully is hanging up the phone. She's still naked, and still daintily covering herself with my blanket. It hits me all at once, now that I am more awake.
                   Scully is naked in my bed.
                   We quite possibly had sex.
                   Shit...Dude.
                   I push on valiantly, " I brought something for our hangovers." I say, handing her about ten pills and a paper cup full of water, "So what was that all about?"
                   Scully lets out a sigh, "Apparently, we 'partied' with this girl Pepper, and her friends last night."
                   "Well that's a bit obvious. Did she offer any information?"
                   "Only that her and two girls, Dorothy and Nicole, will be here in a half-hour to pick us up." Scully says, crawling underneath the blanket to the other end of the bed. She looks around for three beats before she grumbles at me, "Mulder, have you seen my underwear?"
                    I can't help but flash her a devilish grin, "So long, Scully. So long have I waited to hear those words." I chuckle.
                    She gives me the famous Scully-look-of-death, "Don't start."
                   I end up locating a pair of white cotton bikini underwear under my leather pants, about three feet from the door. "I always liked girls in white cotton panties, Scully." I crack as her panties fly in her direction.
                   "Fuck you, Mulder." she says, wrapping my blanket around her body and getting up to hunt for the rest of her clothes, I suppose.
                   "That's right, you already did." I say sarcastically. I've got to get dressed.
***************************************************************************************************************
             I knew this case was a mistake.
             Plus, waking up this morning in Mulder's bed, not remembering how the hell I got here in the first place, only proves my original apprehensions were correct.
             If only I can remember what happened.
             It started off innocently enough. Mulder picked me up last night to do undercover reconnaissance because of mysterious disappearances that kept occurring at underground warehouse parties, or "raves". He looked ridiculous. Adorable, but ridiculous. Funny, I thought I'd never see the day Mulder would wear leather pants, but there I was. Luckily, I got him to get rid of the visor, but I could do nothing about the black and silver wrap-around shades he insisted on wearing. We arrived at the party around 10:30 at night, drank some punch, and...
              That's all I remember.
              Quite alarming, especially considering I woke up buck naked in Mulder's arms.
              I wish he would quit acting like a jackass.
              True, I've been no Miss Mary Sunshine, either, but under the circumstances, who could blame me? I've been cheated. How am I supposed to accept the possibility of Mulder and I finally consummating our unspoken love if I can't remember a goddamn thing? It isn't fair.
              I finally found all of my clothing, and now Mulder and I are sitting on his couch, slowly sipping coffee and waiting for my new "girlfriend" and her "posse" to show up.
              It must've been some night.
              Even though I can't remember anything, it isn't that surprising about the whole girlfriend thing. I'll admit openly (were anyone to ask me outright) that I've found women attractive to the point of sex before. I just never acted on it. But I can somewhat believe it to be true. She sounded nice enough on the phone, if not just a little overexuberant for a Sunday morning.
              I guess it doesn't help that I feel like absolute shit, either. Every muscle in my body is screaming, and my head, even though it feels slightly better, still feels like a jackhammer is pounding into the center of my brain.
              The overdramatic beating on the front door does not help matters. This has to be Pepper. Mulder gets up wordlessly and opens the door.
              "Dude! Fox! Whazzup!" an attractive redhead who could only be my girlfriend Pepper exclaims, standing in the doorway with a brunette and a strawberry blonde.
               At least I have good taste in women. She's very attractive in a punky sort of way. Her hair is almost the same shade as mine, except a smidge more orange, it's pulled into short, adorable pigtails, and she's wearing a pair of dark hip hugging jeans rolled up to midcalf and a tiny Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles t-shirt. The girls she's with are definitely nothing to sneeze at, either; the brunette's long hair is in braided pigtails and she's wearing a black pleather tube top, and shiny black capri's held up by suspenders, and she has huge kool-aid red sunglasses on her face, and the strawberry blonde. Damn. They're so beautiful. Her naturally curly hair is down and under a red knitted beret, and she's a bit less punky in her attire, looking more like a college student in a soft grey 3/4 sleeved turtleneck and vintage flared jeans. Very nice. Mulder's face mirrors my own in awe.
               We "partied" with these girls.
               "Pepper?" Mulder asks.
               "Yeah, dude! Now you're gonna pretend like you don't know nobody?" she jokes, slugging him playfully in the stomach as he winces.
               "Hey Fox!" the brunette exclaims, jumping on him and wrapping her legs around his waist, "Blahlalalala!" she growls in his face, then kisses him soundly on the mouth before jumping down. The blonde gives him the same treatment as Pepper and the brunette head my way.
               "There's my sexyness!" Pepper greets me happily, pulling me from my spot on the couch. Luckily, I have the presence of mind to put my coffee down before she does this. I can't help but smile at her, her exuberance is catching. Pepper takes this as an invitation to cover my mouth with hers and envelopes me into a seriously hot kiss. I find myself responding. Hey, she's a good kisser.
                "Why don't you get a room?" the brunette says in a small, funny voice.
                "What-EVER, Nicole." Pepper giggles at her.
                Ah, so the blonde must be Dorothy.
                Mulder and the now identified Dorothy walk over and sit down on the couch, whilst Pepper sits down, pulling me onto her lap. She is a good six inches taller than I am. Nicole dances in place, growling continually.
                "This is a bit awkward," I begin, since Mulder is just staring at Pepper and me, "but neither Fox nor myself remember exactly what happened last night."
                "No shit?" Dorothy laughs.
                "Dude, you guys must've been even more pla-dowed than we thought." Pepper chuckles.
                "Rock on!" Nicole exclaims.
                I shoot Mulder a look that says we're not going anywhere unless we question them further.
                "How much do you not remember?" Dorothy asks before we have the chance to say anything.
                "Everything from the time we arrived at the party to when we woke up in the morning." Mulder answers.
                Nicole, Pepper, and Dorothy look at each other and crack up laughing. "Nothing? At all?" Pepper wheezes, "That rules!"
                "You don't remember the contest? Or the afterparty? Or the...you know, the thing?" Nicole asks, after the giggles subside.
                Mulder and I, clutching our heads because we *are* still hung over and they're pretty loud, shake them slowly.
                "Well, you guys partied like fuckin' rock stars, if that's any consolation, dude." Pepper offers, "Did you wanna smoke a wake-up bowl? Then we can pop on over to Cosmic's and you'll get more details there."
                Are they kidding? Why would we...oh. They probably don't know that we're federal agents. Funny how we had the presence of mind to keep our cover under such conditions.
                "Yes...dude, we can do that." Mulder says, shooting me a "just play along" glance as Nicole pulls out an ounce bag and a blown glass pipe from her Powerpuff girls lunchbox.
                I read his message. If we don't play along, and do tell them who we really are, there's no hope of finding out any details of last night or the case, for that matter, and thus, Skinner will eat our livers for breakfast.
                "This will get rid of those pesky hangovers, too! Blahlalalala!" Nicole punctuates her sentence with a loud growl as she lights the bowl, then passes it to Mulder. He, in turn, hits it like a nursing infant, and hacking, passes it my way.
                "Here, let me torch that for you, Dana." Pepper offers, pulling out a purple High Life lighter and lighting the bowl for me. Woo. I forgot about this. I cough a little, (not as much as Mulder, however) and pass it to Pepper. Wow, I feel so much better. The throbbing, pounding thing that was in my head has started to dissipate.
                "Blahlalala...blahlalalaweed." Nicole growls, dancing around, "Dude, do you guys remember Hammer at all?"
                 "Who?" Mulder and I ask in unison.
                "So *that* means no." Dorothy laughs, "Hammer's throwing a B-Q today. He invited you guys last night."
                "Is anyone from last night going to be there?" I ask.
                "Oh, for sure." Pepper answers, "We've got nothing better to do."
                "Slow party day." Nicole adds, hitting the pipe again.
                "Do you guys ever take a day off?" Mulder asks, laughing.
                "Today's kind of a day off. Easy partying." Pepper comments.
                "Easy like Sunday Morn-ing. AhAhAhAh!" Nicole sings and sways comically, "Hit the bowl, Fox! Hit it now!"
                I giggle a little, "You're goofy." Wow, I'm knocking 'em out with my vast vocabulary today.
                "Guys, I'm feeling kinda antsy." Dorothy pipes up, "D'ya wanna roll around and do this?"
                "Timmy! Favorite pasttime! Blalala!" Pepper cuts up, saying the words into the back of my neck. I giggle and slip off her knee, sitting back on the cushion. Pepper gets up and starts dancing around with Nicole, picking up their purses and getting ready to go, "We're taking my ride. The Mystery Machine." Pepper comments.
                We make our way to the front of Mulder's building and...oh. That must be Pepper's "ride". You can't miss it, it's the exact replica of the one on "Scooby Doo".
                "My folks got it for me on graduation." Pepper says breathlessly.
                Mulder chuckles next to me and leans into my ear, "We've jumped into a cartoon, Scully." He giggles.
                Electricity shoots down my spine, and I suppress my laughter, covering my mouth with my hand, "I like it. I think it's cute." I manage out.
                Then we make our way inside the Mystery Machine tm.
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Scully, Where's My Car