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A Red Love Bizarre or The Roswell Chest	By : Beaverhausen13 Category: 1 through F > Friday the 13th: The Series Views: 535 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Files. I do not own Friday the 13th: The Series. I get no cash, no ends, none of that cheddar for this, fam damily.

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4-21-99 {Micki}
Owwwww....
I am pulled into consciousness by the sun shining warmly on my face, although I can't open my eyes yet. I can already tell that I have a thumper headache, and my whole body feels *really* sore. What *happened* last night? I realize that my cheek feels like it's resting against bare flesh, and that I am naked under these sheets.
Oh. My. God.
Last night's events come barreling in an insane, pornographic montage through my brain. Wow, I did *that*? And THAT? I'm thinking to myself. My eyes cannot open just yet. I can't face my shame.
Ryan must think I am such a dirty slut.
Oh, he was willing, and certainly quite able, but I feel as though I've taken advantage of the situation. My lower half is still throbbing, and I can feel my ass burning from getting spanked. Oh yes, there was spanking. I actually couldn't believe that Ryan could be so forceful. It got me so hot. Needless to say, we pulled out all the stops last night. I guess I panicked, but can you blame me? Really? I might not exist at all in a few days, and neither will he. Now, however, the double-edged sword is that the last few days of our lives will be spent with Ryan thinking that I'm a slut-on-wheels and if we do get through this and make it out okay, we still have to resume our quest as usual, with Ryan continuing to have this new whorish perspective on who I am.
I go ahead and crack open one eye, and I don't know whether to laugh or cry. My cheek is resting against his rather red naked ass cheek, as he lays snoozing on his stomach, smiling as he sleeps. How can he not feel like anything but hell? My head is pounding terribly.
I have to admit that he's pretty gorgeous naked. I raise my head a little to give his body a sober once over. Bad idea, I just got a sharp pain in my temple and I allow my cheek to fall back against his cheek, and let out a raspy groan. "Owwww." Ryan doesn't even budge in his peaceful slumber. I don't know why this irks me, but it does. I need ibuprofen, and lots of it. Oh, and a shower. I have to wash the slut off me. I manage to crawl off the bed and onto the floor; I don't care if I'm naked or not. I'm in extreme pain. I make my way to the bathroom on all fours and pray that there's a bottle of something in the medicine cabinet.
There's a small travel size bottle of Advil, and I am grateful. I wash down four pills down with a good amount of water and stare in the mirror. My skin has the tell-tell glow of great sex, but this does nothing to ease my guilt. Ryan doesn't even know that I'm not legally his cousin anymore. I don't know how I can face his reaction when he does wake up. I've ruined everything because I was stupid, selfish, and I panicked in the worst way.
I start running the water in the shower and hop in. Oh, this feels a million times better already. Is that a bite mark on my shoulder? Wow. It amazes me how crazy we got. I can't get it out of my head. The images of what transpired last night are fuzzy because I was quite a few sheets to the wind, but I keep getting flashes of our steamy, rough-sex filled night as I'm washing my hair.
If only I didn't truly care about what he thinks of me because I love him. Otherwise, when this hangover goes, this could be a decent morning.
"Micki?"
Oh shit. Ryan must have woken up, "Yeah?" I call from the shower.
"Are you okay?" he calls from the cracked bathroom door.
"Yeah." I say, quelling my apprehension.
I'm not really okay. I'm actually mortified, but I'm not going to tell him that. Ryan enters the bathroom and goes into the medicine cabinet for the Advil, "Ow, my fucking head." he groans.
I peek out of the curtain to see that he's still naked and downing a glass of water in front of the bathroom sink. Oh, did I do that? His poor back is riddled with long scratches, some of them a bit bloody. Whoops.
Well, it gets him back for the bite marks on my shoulders and the purple love-bites on my neck.
"Hey, I'm gonna go lay back down for a bit." Ryan says cautiously.
"Okay." I answer as cool as I can, "I'll be out in a few more minutes."
I take my time. I feel so nervous, I have no idea what's going to happen after I leave this bathroom. Finally, I screw up my courage and step out of the shower. I dry off and wrap myself in a towel, and prepare for what's on the other side of that door.
As I step back in the room, I am simultaneously relieved and embarrassed to find Agent Mulder standing by the front door and Ryan sitting up in bed, still naked to the waist, covered in a sheet.
"Hey Hellcat." Agent Mulder teases me in greeting.
"Hi." I manage out, searching around the room for my clothing.
"Jack just gave me a call from his friend Rashid's." Mulder tells us as I manage to gather most of my clothing, "He wants us to meet them at the FBI State Office in an hour and a half, something about having the key to getting you back to your own time, and needing to be near the chest. I told him we'd be there."
"Great." I say lamely, finally tracking down my panties on the wall light-fixture, "I'm going to get back to my room and change, you guys."
Ryan and I lock embarrassed gazes, "Sure. See ya." he says quietly.
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4-21-99 {Scully}
I wake to the heavy smell of sex still lingering in the sheets and sunlight pouring through the window. Mulder's side of the bed is empty, and I am flooded with all sorts of feelings of regret. I can't help thinking that I made the biggest mistake of my life last night.
Not that the sex wasn't great, because it was. Mulder is everything I always thought he would be, and much more. We had languid but intense, passionate sex three times that I remember, though I was a little more drunk than I felt at the time, and it's coming back to me a little on the hazy side. I can't believe I just threw myself at him like that. Drunk or no, I was out of control. My head is throbbing a little at the temples, and I lean over to my purse on the nightstand and retrieve an Aleve from my emergency stash.
I probably wouldn't have felt as bad if he was still here when I woke up. As it is, his absence only means one thing: He has regrets about last night, and I have destroyed everything. Our whole professional and personal relationship has permanently been altered. I feel like such a fool.
The door cracks open and I cover myself with a sheet as I sit up. I'm half-expecting it to be Mulder, but instead it's a towel clad Micki, carrying her clothing in front of her in a ball while trying to keep the rather small hotel towel around her body. As soon as she sees me, her face crumples up, "Oh, Dana..."
Oh, shit. Why do I have so much in common with this woman? I give her a look of pure understanding and answer her shakily, "I know." I say, motioning for her to come give me a hug. I need one right now, and so does she. It doesn't seem like it worked out that well this morning for her, either.
She rushes over to me and we embrace each other one-armed. "I'm so scared." Micki sobs. I feel hot tears on my shoulder, and I awkwardly pat her back.
"Well, you've got a lot going on." I respond, "I would be, too. I mean, right now, I'm pretty terrified..."
Micki looks up and wipes her face, pulling away from me, "You and Mulder..." she pauses, noticing my state of undress.
"Ah-huh." I nod, looking around in embarrassment, "I know you and Ryan did; we could hear you through the walls." I mention.
Micki's jaw drops and her face flushes red, "Great, now you all are going to think I'm a slut!" she starts sobbing again, wiping her face with her balled-up tube top.
"Calm down, we don't think you're a slut. Obviously, you're just a woman in love with a man and under the circumstances, it looked like you both took advantage of the situation. As did I." I add, sucking in a breath.
"You don't understand, Dana. I did things with him last night that I was saving for marriage." Micki sniffles, looking up at the ceiling, "What he must think of me!"
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think we're in the same boat. I instigated it *all* last night, and he was obviously regretting it enough to not be here when I woke up." I offer, "I'm feeling pretty dumb right now. I may have just ruined the most important relationship in my life."
Micki breathes out shakily, "Me too. Oh, I'm so sorry, Dana. I did see Mulder this morning; he came to the room as I got out of the shower and told us that Jack had called him."
I perk a little, "What did he say?"
"He said Jack wants to meet us in an hour or so at the FBI state office evidence locker where they're keeping the chest. He and Rashid may have found the key to getting back." Micki tells me, standing up from where she was perched on the edge of my bed.
"Well, that's good news." I say, wrapping the sheet completely around my body. "I think I should take a shower; we should start getting ready to leave soon. Are you going to be okay?" I ask her.
Micki looks at me with her eyes wide with fright, "I don't know if I can face him again."
"Well, that makes two of us. Let's just focus on the bigger task at hand right now, Micki. It should keep us sane, and our minds tuned on something else. What happens after that, happens."
Micki nods and smiles wanly, "You're right. You're so wise, Dana."
I get up and make my way towards the bathroom, "No, I'm a jackass, otherwise I wouldn't be in this current predicament. I just know how to deal with it. I've been in love with the same man for years and suffered with it silently. I think I can deal with this, too." I pause by the bathroom door, "So can you."
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4-21-99 {Ryan}
I wince as Mulder applies antiseptic to the scratches on my back.
"Jesus, she got you pretty good there, buddy." Mulder comments as he finishes up.
"Thanks." I tell him, sitting up and putting on my old Depeche Mode T-shirt.
"That scene between you two looked pretty strained this morning, d'ya want to talk about it?" Mulder pushes.
"Not really." I say. I can't help it, I'm at a loss for words. I just fucked the shit out of my cousin, and she fucked the shit out of me. I feel like King Shit Pervert right now. The look in her eyes when she walked out of the bathroom said it all, and pierced me right where it hurt. God help me, but I love her. I can't stand the thought of living life without her, and I may have just crushed that by giving in to my clawing desire for her and doing what we did last night.
I can't even stand the thought of her hating me for the last few days, if we don't make it through this. Man, it was the sweetest sin, though. My Micki is a tigress in the bedroom, and I was fueled by my want of her to do things I've never done with any other girl in my life. We did it rough and dirty, numerous times on numerous surfaces until close to dawn when we finally passed out from sheer exhaustion.
It was wonderful, but awful, all at the same time. I hope to God she doesn't hate me now.
I notice a small love-bite on Mulder's neck, "Hey, do you want to talk about that?" That sly dog, "You made it with Agent Scully, didn't you?"
Mulder tries to suppress a grin, "No, I don't want to talk about it." he answers me in his deadpan, "Not like I *need* to ask you what happened. I think the whole Travelodge heard you and Micki last night."
I rub a hand on the back of my neck, and try not to look too sheepish, "You heard that, huh?"
"Ohhhh, yeah." Mulder nods, "So, who wants to call dibs on the bathroom shower first?" he asks, effectively changing the subject.
"You go first; I want to take a look at these clothes in this bag." I say, motioning to the shopping bag by my bed that Micki brought in yesterday.
"Sounds good to me."
The both of us take our showers and get dressed, Mulder in a black suit and myself in a pair of khaki cargo pants and a short-sleeved, black and grey plaid button down shirt. I man up as much as I can and follow Mulder next door to the girls’ room to see if they're ready to go yet. Mulder gives a knock, and Micki answers the door, looking achingly gorgeous in a grey sheath top and jeans, her hair pulled on each side of her head in thick buns. I suppress a Princess Leia fantasy and she casts her eyes downward when she notices me behind Mulder, "Come in, Dana's just finishing up." she says, as we follow her inside.
We stand around in awkward silence for a few beats until Agent Scully appears from the bathroom, all business in a cream-colored skirt suit, her bob perfectly coiffed. "Is it time to go?" she asks, directing her gaze more toward Micki as she breezes icily past Mulder and picks up her purse from the nightstand.
"Yeah, we should probably head out." I say, stealing another glance at Micki, who just kills me with more of the cold shoulder. Our eyes meet and she looks away quickly, and I die a little inside. I can't stand being this way with her. No matter how great last night was, I find myself wishing that we could go back to our old, safe, and comfortable former relationship. This is just torturous.
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4-21-99 {Mulder}
I am a man who cannot control his urges. I tried for as long as I could, but I snapped effectively last night. Unlike the other three in my presence with shamed looks on their faces, I was pretty sober and what I did was inexcusable.
I feel like an ass. Scully was drunk, and I took advantage of her state of being. I could have said no when she told me she wanted me, but I didn't, and I can already see that I'm losing her.
I woke this morning after a blissful night of resolved sexual tension (and it was blissful, gentle reader) with Scully nestled in my arms and a shit-eating grin on my face. Making love to her was a form of worship and the rewards were great. It was euphoric, sexy, passionate, wonderful...there aren't adjectives even great enough to describe what happened between us. I felt as if every part of me had been made whole.
The incessant ringing of my cell phone interrupted my gazing at her softly snoozing against my chest, just watching her back rise and fall as she slumbered. It was too beautiful watching her rest, and I didn't want to interrupt it, so I slowly slid out from under her and proceeded to answer my phone.
It was Jack, telling me to gather the troops and meet them by the chest. I gave him directions to the state FBI office, got off the phone and went to slam a cup of coffee before rousing Micki and Ryan. I figured I'd give them time because they'd probably be pretty indecent. I was right, but the air was pretty tense in the room when I got in, and I'm sensing there's a lot of guilt and possibly regret between those two about what transpired last night, but they aren't doing a lot of talking.
Then, when Ryan and I made it to Scully and Micki's room, I knew I was in trouble. Scully won't even look me in the eye, and keeps directing her speech to Micki. This has continued in the drive out to Portland. We all sit in silence, me driving and Ryan in the front, Micki and Scully in the back. I can practically feel the deep freeze emanating from the backseat. Silence is chilly.
I click on the radio and randomly flip through stations, "Hey, do you want to play DJ, buddy?" I ask Ryan, "I want to stay focused on the road."
We hear a couple of throats clearing from the backseat. "Sure." Ryan says to me. He glances back at Micki and she averts her eyes to staring out the window. Ouch. I catch a glance at Scully and she does the same. It's a Ladyspiracy.
This has got to be the most awkward car ride in all of highway history. Ryan flips around and finally finds something clearer.
"Doin’ it, and Doin’ it, and Doin' it Wild/I represent Queens she was raised out of Brooklyn..."
Why do you have to do this to me L.L. Cool J? Have you forsaken me as well? Way to make it more awkward.
Ryan quickly flips the station and ends up on Adam Ant's "Goody Two Shoes", which is a little better, but still carries weird undertones. Whatever, I guess it follows us everywhere. The weirdness, I mean. We all seem to carry it like the plague.
"Suffer innuendoes but there must be something inside..."
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A Red Love Bizarre or The Roswell Chest