Title: Do A Little Dance
Author: Samantha L. Caldwell
Rating: PG-13
Category: HRSX
Keywords: MSR, fluff, challenge fic
Spoilers: Set somewhere at the end of the 7th season
Disclaimer: Their biological father was abusive, so I'm adopting them.

Summary: A horny green-and-yellow centipede is terrorizing DC... and Skinner's in a tutu.

Author's Notes: This story was written almost two years ago for a challenge a friend of mine gave to me (see end for challenge elements - they're pretty crazy!). I found it on my hardrive today and, even though it's pretty embarrassing to say I actually wrote this, I thought you guys might find some humor in it. But I'm warning you now- if you have problems imagining Mulder in a fuzzy purple teletubbie suit, stop reading immediately!


It must have been the full moon.

Now, I know I don't normally result to such paranormal solutions, but trust me, this time, it was the *only* justification.

I suppose the phenomenon of the effect of the full moon isn't really all that far-fetched I know it has something to do with the gravitational pull of the earth and the changing tides and the fact that human beings are made up mostly of water and other elements that Mulder could probably rattle off to you in ten seconds flat so, as a scientist, the theory is even mildly believable.

What wasn't, in a thousand odd years, remotely plausible was the events I'm blaming this full moon for. Events that, individually wouldn't have been so bad, but when set off within 12 hours of each other would ultimately lead to utter humiliation for all parties involved.

Events that would change the way I see a couple of things, namely electric toothbrushes, teletubbies, tutus, and giant caterpillars.

Events that would change the way I see my partner.


It was a strange day from the very beginning. I'd walked into our cramped little basement office at precisely 8:58, and was greeted with a smile and an eyebrow wiggle from Mulder, who was beside his desk, pouring over a heap of files.

What's so strange about that, you ask? Well for one thing, Mulder was dancing.

Not just a hip-shimmying, toe-tapping, shoulder-swaying kinda dancing. Oh no, my ebullient partner was doing a very enthusiastic two-step, his loafers shuffling over the dusty floor, his arms flying all over the place, his head thrashing from side to side with the beat of the music (playing from the little radio on his desk), his hips following some kind of crazy rhythm. And he was singing along with the radio, his spirited, off-key alto nearly overpowering the music.

"Do a little dance...." He warbled, specifying his inane movements to match the lyrics by giving an exaggerated swing of his hips. "Make a little loooove..." A very-subtle-but-still- hard-enough-to-make-me-blush pelvic thrust. "Get down tonight, yeeeah! Get down tonight!" Mmmm. I bit my lip, appreciating the way his perfect, armani-clad rear-end dipped towards the ground as he "got down" in a sort of half-twist.

Mulder should really dance more often.

He turned to smile at me again that thousand watt grin he only gives when he's happily engrossed in a new case promising lots and lots of paranormal excitement and my blush deepened as I realized I'd been watching his "jig" pretty intensely.

I cleared my throat, resuming my usual "no-nonsense" expression, praying that my face didn't look quite as red as it felt.

Christ. I hadn't been there more than a minute and he'd already got me going.

"Mulder?" I had to fight to keep his name from coming out in a pathetic squeak. "What are you doing?"

He raised his eyebrows, slowed his steps and turned down the radio. "What's that, Scully?"

"I said," I stepped up to the desk to examine the array of files and folders he had spread across it. "*What* are you doing?"

"I'm dancing, Scully." That smile again. "You know KC and the sunshine band, don't ya?"

"I was referring to the mess you've made on your desk."

"Oh, *that*." He stopped dancing, going from hyper-active-ten-year-old to super-informative-G-man in the amount of time it took him to gather a handful of pictures and reports from the pile.

I took a look at the first picture he showed me, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. "Mulder, it's a caterpillar."

"Not a caterpillar, Scully, a *centipede*."

"Whatever. Why are we looking at a picture of a centipede?"

"See the yellow and green stripes along it's back?" One long, slender Mulder-finger traced the patterns of colour on the picture.

I nodded, waiting for him to get to the point. "Yes. It's a very nice-looking caterpillar."

"Centipede, Scully."

"Whatever."

"It's a Tropical Green-Belly, found *only* in the northern parts of the African Rainforest. It plants it's eggs in other animals mostly mammals, where they stay until they're hatched and they slowly eat the carrier from the inside out. "

"Let me guess," I supplied. "It's been spotted in the New York... or the Dallas... or the New Orleans sewer system, except it's mutated into a baby-eating monster and is terrorizing the city's population of overgrown, toilet-flushed alligators."

"Not quite," he didn't even miss a beat. "But you're pretty close. There have been reports of a creature with it's exact markings found right here in D.C.. Apparently, some old lady found it crawling out of her toilet."

I sighed softly. "Lovely, Mulder."

"Yeah, I know. Isn't it great?" He pulled out another picture, this one of some poor, battered mutt. "It attacked her dog, then slithered back out the way it came."

I couldn't help it. I had to ask. "This is an X-file *why*?"

"Well, the insect in this picture is almost a half-inch long. The one described by the woman who's dog was attacked was more than a foot."

I nodded, pursing my lips. "What makes you so sure this was even the same creature?"

"The eggs," Mulder announced excitedly showing me a revolting picture of blood-covered, golf ball-sized eggs. "They were found *inside* the old lady's dog."

I guess I made a face there, because Mulder laughed. I suppose with all we've seen and all the bodies I've cut up, he's surprised when something gross and gooey still puts me off.

"So the Green-Belly wasn't really attacking it." He told me. "It was trying to mate with it."

"Right, Mulder." Now it's my turn to laugh. "A giant centipede came all the way from Africa to do the naked pretzel with a house pet."

"I'm just giving you the facts, Scully. Now, I'm going to check out the old woman's house, see what I can find. You coming?" He flicked off the radio and grabbed his coat.

"Sure, Mulder," I sighed. "Why not? Chasing a horny green and yellow caterpillar was *exactly* what I wanted to do today."

"Centipede, Scully," He corrected me merrily as he started towards the office door, singing softly to himself:

"Do a little dance... make a little looove..."


"Ding-dong."

I pressed the doorbell with a sigh, slipping my hand to the inside pocket of my trench coat, ready to flash my badge when the door opened.

"Can I help you?" A woman answered the door in a horrid purple velvet robe, with curlers in her hair and a dog in her arms. I recognized the bandaged animal from the pictures Mulder had shown me earlier.

"Mrs. Gugenheimer? We're Agents Mulder and Scully from the FBI," my partner told her, holding up his badge like I was holding mine. "We're here to investigate the... um... violation committed against your dog last Saturday."

"Ooooh," the lady squealed, hugging the shaggy mongrel into her broad bosom. "You mean that *awful* creature who tried to kill my fluffy-wuffy-muffy-kins?"

"That's the one, Mrs. Gugenheimer. May we come in to... look around a bit?"

"Yes, yes, absolutely," she gushed, suddenly noticing with wide eyes my partner's solid good looks and decadent smile. Opening the door widely, she ushered Mulder through, then followed him inside, leaving me on the front porch.

Wonderful.

Grumbling, I pulled the screen door open again and trudged into the house. It was not that I didn't like doing field work with Mulder. In fact, there was really nothing I'd rather do than field work with Mulder... except maybe something that *isn't* field work with Mulder... like watching movies with Mulder, or eating with Mulder, or sleeping with.... ergh, well... I hadn't really experienced that last one, so I couldn't say I'd rather be sleeping with Mulder than doing field work with him, but I imagined I would rather it... or at least I *hoped* I would. Anyway, where was I? Oh, the field work, right. I liked working on cases with him. As much as I grumbled and protested sometimes, and as much as he ditched me in the throes of a good lead, I enjoyed spending time with him on the road, or on the hunt for a suspect or a giant caterpillar er... centipede... because he was usually so content and cheerful. Like today.

What I *didn't* enjoy was being left in the dust.

"Would you like some coffee, Agent Mulder? Or I have tea if you prefer..."

I heard Mrs. Gugenheimer's nasal voice from down the hall when I entered the house. The corridor smelled grotesquely like dog poop and moldy kibble, and I resisted the urge to cover my nose. Instead, I followed the sound of my partner's voice... "No thank you, Mrs. Gugenheimer, but if you could show me to your bathroom...?"

"Right away, right away," I heard her coo. "And please, call me Hilda."

I caught up to them after they'd reached the bathroom. Mulder just about had his head in the toilet, his latex-gloved hands gripping the seat and a handful of Q-tips.

"Do you see anything, Agent Mulder?" Hilda asked, and the dog she was still clutching let out a dry little *yip*.

"Excuse me," I told her, pushing my way past her and through the doorway of the tiny bathroom to Mulder's side.

"Do you see anything, Mulder?" I asked him seriously, peering into the toilet.

He dipped one finger into the ceramic bowl, then pulled it out and looked up at me. "Goo," he stated, showing me his slime- covered finger.

"Let me guess," I said. "Giant, green-bellied centipede goo?"

"I think that would be a safe assumption." With a grin, he stood, focusing his inspections now on the bathroom sink. He picked up an electric toothbrush, looking at it intensely.

"Mulder?" I asked. "Is there more goo on the toothbrush?"

"No. But you know, I've always wanted an electric toothbrush. Do you have one?"

"No, Mulder, I don't. Should I?" I furrowed my brow, wondering how someone as brilliant and charming and beautiful as Mulder could be so goddamn strange.

"I don't know. I guess I thought most women had electric toothbrushes."

I didn't even bother to answer that. Sometimes Mulder is just too much for me.

"At least," I heard him mumble softly as I left the bathroom, "I was pretty sure all *single* women did."

After another few minutes spent poking around the bathroom and the rest of the house, Mulder thanked Mrs. Gugenheimer, and we left.

"I think we should get this to the lab," he held up the little plastic bag he'd put his good sample in as I settled myself in the passenger seat of our FBI-borrowed-to-nice-to-be-really- ours car.

All I wanted to do was go home and take a shower and try to get the smell of dog poop out of my clothes, but I nodded like the good partner and agent that I am and flicked on the radio.

When the graveling sound that met my ears was none other than "Do a little dance... make a little love..." I flicked it back off.

"Hey, what'dya do that for?" Mulder griped with a frown. "I love that song."

My apology (yeah *right*) was interrupted by the sound of a ringing cell phone.

"Mine or yours?" He patted his chest pockets through his coat, searching for the little electronic device.

"Yours," I decided, pretty certain that I'd kept mine on vibrate.

"Mulder," he barked into the phone when he found it, sounding like he was generally excited to see who was on the other line. Who knows, maybe he was. This was Mulder, and it was one of those days.

After a quick conversation of "Uh huh. Yes. Yes sir. Right away sir. We can do that. Yes. Yes, we'll be there. Thank you, sir. Goodbye," he turned to me, his eyes glowing.

"That was Skinner," he told me, as if I didn't already know. I don't believe there is anyone else in the entire *world* he calls sir. "There's been another centipede attack, this time on a human."

"Where?" I was almost afraid to ask. *'Please,' I begged silently, 'no more old ladies and NO more dogs...'*

"The hospital, on the pediatric wing. Skinner says we have to go undercover so we don't scare the kids. He suggests clowns..." He grinned at me. The bastard actually grinned.

Great. Wonderful. I was going to be chasing a horny green and yellow caterpillar wearing a clown costume. Now this is what I joined the FBI for.

*Really.*


Would you believe the costume shop was out of clown costumes? It's true. They blamed it on it being almost Halloween but I think God was punishing us for stealing that new agent's toupee last week and hiding it in the fish tank (it was all Mulder's idea... *I swear*). All they had left were three Princess dresses, a Little Bo Peep costume, a ballerina outfit, a vampire suit and a complete set of teletubbie ensembles.

A got Little Bo Peep.

Imagine my surprise when Mulder waddled out of the dressing room as Tinky Winky.

Never thought I'd get this close to an extraterrestrial.

"Mulder..." I had to giggle. I just couldn't help it. Even *I'm* not that good.

"What?" He protested, his large, furry hands resting on his large, furry hips. "I couldn't very well be the princess... and a think a vampire would scare those kids a hell of a lot more than a federal agent would."

I shrugged. He did have a point. And he looked ridiculously adorable in that soft purple suit. I shifted my "sheep-herding staff" to my right hand and wrapped my left around his padded elbow.

"You do know," I couldn't help grinning as I helped him waddle out of the store, "That Tinky Winky is the gay one..."


If I expected the fact that he was dressed like an overgrown, moldy grape to put a damper on Mulder's cheerful demeanor, I was very, *very* wrong.

In fact, I think it just made him happier.

Go figure.

I, on the other hand, was sufficiently embarrassed to be seen walking into the hospital wearing an apron around my middle, a kerchief on my head and a wooden staff in my hand. Not to mention all the attention the giant, blundering mass of purple fabric tottering beside me attracted.

Thank God I knew to go in through the staff door.

When we arrived at the pediatric floor, we were immediately bombarded by throngs of squealing children. We were alone one minute, and the next there were masses of kids throwing themselves into Mulder's arms with shouts of "Tinky Winky, Tinky Winky!" He fell to the floor in a heap of violet fuzz and little arms and legs.

I actually felt left out for a moment. Almost... jealous. What did Tinky Winky have that Little Bo Peep didn't?

Then I laughed out loud. I was envious of a 7 foot tall purple alien with a floppy, triangle-shaped antennae.

Like I've been saying, it was *not* a normal day.

It's a real good thing these kids caught Mulder on a good day, because he actually hugged them back, chuckling as he pulled them into his lap right there in the hallway of the peds ward. I think they realized he wasn't the real Tinky Winky (...is there even a real Tinky Winy...?), because there was a hole in the headpiece where you could clearly see his face, but they appreciated his costume nonetheless.

Watching my partner laughing and cradling a dozen kids with bald heads from chemotherapy, and casts on their limbs, and IV poles trailing behind them was so endearing I just about cried.

How much more adorable could one man be?

My sentimental thoughts were interrupted when I felt a hand on my ruffly, blue-poka-dotted sleeve. I then turned around to face the most horrendous, hilarious, absurd thing I've ever seen in my entire life.

Skinner in a fluffy pink tutu.

I'm not kidding. He even had the tiara perched awkwardly on his shiny, bald head. I guess he'd gone to the same shitty costume shop we had...

Suddenly Little Bo Peep didn't seem quite so bad.

"Agent Scully," he greeted me as seriously as always.

"Good morning, Sir." I almost had to bite right through my tongue to keep from laughing. "How is the child?"

"The boy who was attacked is resting comfortably. Do you and Agent Mulder wish to question him?"

"Yes, thank you," I nodded and motioned to Mulder, who gently swept the children off of his lap and got up from the floor to follow me down the long hallway.

Skinner led us to the child's room, but stopped outside the doorway so we could go in and question the boy.

"Jimmy?" I sat down on the side of his bed. The kid was about 9 years old, with sandy blonde hair and huge, blue eyes. His left leg was in traction, a thick, lime-green cast around it.

"What?" He glared at me. There didn't seem to be a whole lot of damage from his "attack" from the giant centipede, except for a small scrape on his forehead.

"My name is Agent Scully, and this," I motioned to Mulder, who was standing beside the bed. "Is my partner, Agent Mulder."

"That's not Agent Muwder," Jimmy shook his head. "That's Tinky Winky."

"Right. Well, then Tinky Winky and I would like to ask you some questions."

"About the big slimy snake thingy?"

"Yes, about the snake thingy. Did you have a good look at it?"

"Yes."

"And what did it look like?" I encouraged, propping my staff up against the bed.

"Like a big slimy snake thingy."

"Right. Can you describe it to us? What colour was it? Did it have any kind of pattern? Did it have teeth or lots and lots of legs?"

"Yes."

I sighed. "Yes it had a lot of legs? Or yes it had teeth?"

"It was green with yellow stripes." Jimmy grinned at Mulder over my shoulder. Mulder, content with playing the friendly cartoon character, reached out to pat the boy on the head with his... um... paw.

"Good, that's good. Can you remember anything else?"

"It peed on me," the boy said.

Mulder's eyes widened. "Where did he pee on you?"

"Here," he pulled at the front of his light blue gown.

Suddenly my partner sprinted out of the room. I could see his fluffy purple rear-end in the doorway as he bent over to ruffle through the laundry hamper.

"Ah ha!" his triumphant cry reverberated through the hospital.

"What is it, Mulder?" I asked as he carried his prize (the soiled gown) back into the room.

"This isn't pee, Scully," He told me, smiling with victory. "It's goo."

"Of course," I sighed again. "Of course it is."

"This boy was attacked in the patient washroom down the hall. I'd bet my last penny that I'll find this same goo in there."

Oh no. No more toilet goo, please.

"Why don't you see if the other children have seen anything suspicious while I go check?"

Thank you!

"Sure," I nodded hastily.

"Tinky Winky?" Jimmy's little voice asked as we headed out of the room.

"Yes, Jimmy?" Mulder grinned. I'm sure he was getting some sort of high wearing that suit.

"Are you really gay?"

His grin faded.


I figured I'd start my "investigation" in the playroom. The playroom has toys, and where there's toys there's kids. And I needed to talk to kids.

I walked into the hospital playroom, almost expecting to be bombarded by little monsters excited to be in the presence of Little Bo Peep (aka ME). But no, I guess that kind of treatment was reserved for the large and the fuzzy because all I was greeted with was a loud, shrill wail.

Looking for the source of the noise, I spotted a tiny scrap of a girl, with a scarf around her bald head, standing in the corner of the room. Her mouth was wide open, the god-awful noise emanating from it. The handful of other children in the playroom were staring at her silently.

"Hey," I said softly as I approached her, crouching down to her level. "What's the matter?"

She stopped crying for a moment, blinked at me with big, dark eyes, and started again. The sound of her shrieking was so horridly appalling that I cringed inwardly, caught somewhere between feeling sorry for the little girl and wanting to throttle her.

Maybe that's why I chose not to practice medicine. I wouldn't be very helpful if I took to strangling my patients.

"What's your name, honey?" I asked, choosing sympathy over strangulation. No response from the child. "Are you feeling sick? Does your tummy hurt?"

She shook her little head, clenching her golf-ball-sized fists at her sides.

Ok. This is good. This is progress. Now we have communication.

"What's the matter then, sweetheart?"

She gulped in a breath of air between sobs, and my heart lurched in my chest. She really was rather pathetic looking her lopsided scarf and thin blue gown hanging off her tiny, gaunt frame pitifully. She couldn't have been more than 5 years old.

I looked around the little room for something to distract her with a toy or a book and that's when I saw the little grey machine sitting by the television.

Nintendo!

With a grin, I took the girl by the hand and led her to the TV. Sitting cross-legged on the floor (not so easy to do with a hoop skirt, lemme tell ya), I slipped in "Mario Brothers", flicked on the game, and picked up the controller.

After a few minutes of watching me play with the little cartoon characters, the little girl stopped her crying (ahhh... silence *is* golden). A few minutes later, and she plunked herself right in my lap. I showed her the right buttons to press, then gave her the controller and picked up the second one for myself.

Soon, she was successfully immersed in the video game.

I am so smart.

Of course, I had forgotten that I was supposed to be questioning the children and not *playing* with them.

Oh well.

"Scully?" A surprised voice came from behind us.

I turned to see Mulder/Tinky Winky and Skinner/Karen Kane standing behind me with rather perplexed expressions.

"Yes, Mulder?" I smiled up at him from my position on the floor, placing a hand on the little girl's covered head and pausing our game so I wouldn't lose my player's life.

"Uh...what are you doing?" He was looking at me like I had grown another head (which isn't all that strange if you consider Leonard Betts).

"Playing Nintendo, Mulder."

He raised an eyebrow. "Right. Did you question the kids?"

Oops.

"I was... uh, just about to. Did you find anything in the patient washroom?"

"Yeah. More goo. Same stuff." He was still looking at me strangely, so I leaned down to the child in my lap, shifting her slight weight so that she was on my knee.

"Honey?" I asked her, smiling. "What's your name?"

"Petula," she told me shyly, reaching up with her tiny hand to pat my frilly, ruffled sleeve.

Jesus, with a name like that, no wonder she was crying.

"Did you see any kind of slimy, yellow and green caterpillar today or yesterday?"

Now it was the kid's turn to look at me like I'd grown another head.

"No, huh? Okay, that's fine. If you see one, just make sure you tell a nurse, and stay away from it, alright?"

She nodded, her little brow still furrowed, and went back to the Nintendo game. I chuckled softly, having taken a kind of affection towards her, and picked up my controller again.

A few moments later, Mulder, who was still standing behind us with Skinner, suddenly let out a low whistle. "Scully, where the hell did you learn to play like that?!"

I grinned. I really was a great player. I could jump over killar mushrooms and defeat evil gargoyles with the best of them. "I lived on Nintendo in college, Mulder. I was practically obsessed with it. I never told you that?"

I looked back at him, and he shook his head incredulously. I guess I didn't strike him as the video game type. "Yeah. I'd come home from class and play it for hours. It's a really great stress-reliever."

"You weren't, like, one of those people who entered tournaments, were you?" He was grinning now, too. Skinner just looked uncomfortable, which made me smile. It wasn't like I was confessing to having experimented with lesbianism in collage or anything like that. Trust Assistant Director Walter Skinner to be wearing a pink tutu and making *me* feel ridiculous.

"No, no," I assured my partner. The Annual Mario Brother's Gaming Event for Advanced Players I had attended every year wasn't a tournament. It was an *exhibition*.

"Should we question the rest of the children?" Mulder asked suddenly, looking around the playroom.

I nodded, and he called the rest of the kids over to the TV. Two little boys and a girl came toddling over, an IV pole trailing behind one of them.

"What are your names, kids?" He asked them, bending over. I guess the Tinky Winky costume didn't allow for much crouching.

"I'm Beatrice-Anne," the girl said. Then she pointed to the boys. "That's Jebidiah, and that's John Jacob Jingle Heimer Schmidt."

"No, really, kids," Mulder smiled at them. "What are your real names?"

Both of the boys looked about to cry, and the girl pouted. "Those *are* our real names."

I almost laughed as I watched Mulder's mouth form a silent "Oh."

"Uh..." he stammered, caught off guard. "Did any of you see a goo-covered centipede around the hospital lately?"

The children seemed to consider the question for a while. The girl shook her head. "There's a boy in 35-A who is sometimes covered in goo. But he's not a centipede."

"Right. Well, thank you anyway," Mulder patted all three children on the head, and stood back up. He exchanged a few whispered words with Skinner, and they both nodded.

"Agents," he addressed us as the kids went back to their toys. "I believe you can handle it from here. If you get any new leads, I'll be in my office."

Mulder thanked him as he left, and turned to me. "Scully, I think we'd better go."

"Why, Mulder? I'm almost passed this level!"

"Sculleee," he was almost whining. "I really think we should go."

"Why don't you go see some of the other kids on the ward? I'm sure they'd be delighted to have a visit from Tinky Winky."

"Scully, please."

God, the man was relentless. I looked away from my game to see his face twisted distressingly, his teeth biting softly at his bottom lip. He was swaying slightly from side to side, lifting one huge, purple paw from the floor, then the other.

Oh.

A light suddenly went on in my head, and I bit back the urge to laugh. Tinky Winky had to tinkle. And I was pretty sure there was no fly on that teletubbie suit.


What kind of woman would I be if I'd let an opportunity like this role by?

With a mischievous smirk, I gave the controller to Petula and stood up. Slowly. Reeeeally slowly.

"Are you sure we shouldn't stay just a little longer? I mean, these kids really love you..."

"Nooo, Scully. We have to go. We have to... bring these goo samples to the lab to be analyzed."

"Right," I nodded seriously. "So we'll go straight to the lab from here."

His teeth clenched in agonizing frustration, and he sighed. "No, I "

I was starting to feel sorry for him. It's a well known fact that men have poor bladder control. "Okay, Mulder, Okay. We'll go." I bent to kiss Petula's forehead and she smiled up at me before turning back to her video game. She hadn't said more than her name since I'd found her crying in the corner, but as I stood to follow Mulder out the door the sick little girl spoke up.

"Bo Peep?" Her tiny voice asked softly.

"What is it, Sweetheart?"

"You'll find them."

"Find who, Honey?"

She smiled like I'd asked the dumbest question in the world. "Your sheep, silly."

"Oh," I laughed lightly, tears suddenly stinging my eyes. "Thank you, Petula."

"You ok, Scully?" Mulder asked as we left the hospital, noticing the moisture pooled in the corners of my eyes. He was getting pretty desperate , and I could tell he was trying not to hop up and down.

"Yeah," I said, rather incredulously, looking down at my ridiculous costume. "I am."


"Scully, I have to pull over."

"What? Mulder, you can't wait until we get back to the office?" We'd been in the car barely three minutes.

His eyes were wide and certain as he parted his pursed lips to tell me a very solid "No!"

I sighed, mostly just stringing him along. But I really couldn't figure out how he was going to manage if we pulled over. There wasn't a gas station in site only a string of high class restaurants and a funeral parlor on the busy highway. Nothing short of removing the entire costume and standing buck naked on the side of the road would grant him relief.

"Do whatever you want, Mulder, just don't get yourself arrested."

And then he did something that very nearly made me grab the wheel and drive our little car straight to the city mental hospital.

He pulled into the parking lot of one of the classy restaurants.

"Mulder!!" I shouted. "You are *not* getting out of this car dressed as a teletubbie to use the washroom facilities in one of the fanciest restaurants in Washington!"

"Not *me*, Scully, *we*."

"And if you think I'm getting out with you you're as crazy as they all say you are." I crossed my ruffly-sleeved arms against my aproned chest.

"Scully, I'm hurt." He deadpanned, parking the car. "Look, I'm hungry, and I have to pee. This place has food *and* a washroom."

"Mulder, have you forgotten that we're dressed like television characters?"

"Even teletubbies have to eat, Scully." He got out of the car, grabbing his badge from on top of the dashboard.

"What are you planning on doing with that?"

"Come with me and you'll see." He grinned his shit-eating, goody-gosh-I'm-doing-something-I'm-not-supposed-to grin and got out of the car.

"Mulder!" I cried out in frustration, watching him amble towards the entrance. When all things were said and done, it *was* approaching evening, and I *was* getting hungry. I looked down at my ridiculous hoop skirt and my apron and my ruffly poka-dotted sleeves. Then I grabbed *my* badge and ran to catch up to him.

Two could play at this game.

We walked (well, he waddled) through the entrance, and were immediately stopped by a very thin, very french waiter with the customary mustache.

"Whoa, whoa, ziss eez not appropriate, Madame et Monsieur. Ziss restaurant eez for jacket and tie only. No teletubbie allow'ed."

Mulder held out his badge and opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off, holding out my own set of identification.

"Sir, we are Agents Scully and Mulder of the Federal Bureau of Investigation," I said seriously, glaring at him with the power I knew my title possessed. "We're undercover, tracking a dangerous criminal, and have reason to believe he is in this restaurant."

The waiter's eyes went wide, and he covered his mouth. "Ohmyohmyohmy," he squeaked.

"Sir, there is no reason to be alarmed," Mulder played along. "Just please, stay calm and leave everything to us."

"Oh oh dear, eez there anything I should do?" He wrung his body hands and licked his thin lips.

Mulder shrugged. "A table by the window would be nice. Oh and where are your washrooms?"

The waiter pointed across the room, and Mulder hastily made his way to the facility, eliciting many a stare and a whisper on his way there in the blundering teletubbie costume.

"Errr..um...." the little waiter turned to me, not quite sure what to do. He picked up two menus and cleared his throat, trying to act nonchalant. "Right ziss way, Madame," he told me, and I followed him to a beautifully set table under a hanging chandelier. I sat down when he pulled the chair out for me. He was still looking around nervously, searching for the fictitious criminal.

"Thank you, sir." I nodded politely, thoroughly enjoying the facade. This situation could defiantly have potential. "My partner and I will be ordering when he returns to deceive the criminal into thinking we're regular customers."

"But of course," he said and nodded, looking thoroughly convinced, although we looked just about as far from "regular customers" as possible.

"I vill be back momentarily," he told me, lighted the set of candles on the table, and disappeared.

Mulder returned looking a hell of a lot more relaxed. He collapsed, with a contented sigh, in the chair on the other side of the table, took his headpiece and mittens off and set them underneath.

"How you doin', Bo Peep?" He grinned at me, his hair sticking out everywhere, his eyes shining.

"Not so bad, Winky," I couldn't help smiling back. He was so lovely, sitting there, his face illuminated in soft candlelight.

"This wasn't such a bad idea, then...?" He baited.

I shook my head. "Maybe not."

"And I'm really not as crazy as they all say?"

I chuckled. "Maybe not."

He feigned a scowl, but couldn't hold it for long and burst out laughing.

"What?" I inquired as he cracked up.

"Did you HAHA see.... HAHA Skinner's tutu? HAHAHAHA..."

I joined him, giggles erupting from my chest in a very unprofessional manner. Who cares? We don't laugh enough in our jobs. And he's so beautiful when he laughs...

"Madame et Monsieur?" The waiter was back. "Vould you like to order zee drinks?"

I looked to Mulder, who shrugged, as we both tried to control our laughter. "Yes, thank you. We'll have a bottle ." Eek. I almost ordered red wine. The way Mulder was acting today cheerful and spirited and happy, the interesting afternoon we'd just shared, and the way he looked in candlelight, combined with wine and dinner in a fancy restaurant would be lethal. Or lethal, at least, to our strictly platonic partnership. "We'll have a pitcher of iced tea, please."

"Very vell, Madame. I vill come back to take your orders?"

"Yes, give us a few minutes," I smiled at the waiter (who still looked uncomfortably wary), and he left.

I'd taken the kerchief from my head after we'd sat down, and now stray strands of hair were falling into my face. I pushed them back slowly, out of my eyes, securing the red locks behind my ears. I suppressed a grin as I watched my partner bite his glorious lower lip. I wasn't doing it to be seductive really. I just wanted my hair out of my face.

"You know, Mulder," I said, looking at him over the top of my menu. "You were really good with those kids today."

"Thanks, Scully." He smiled sincerely. "You know, I like kids. I like them a lot. But... parents sure are picking strange things to name their children these days. Is it some kind of new trend to give babies really weird names?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Those kids sure had the worst of them, though. What were their names? There was Petula... and Jebediah..."

"John Jacob Jingle Heimer Schmidt," Mulder offered.

"Right, and Beatrice-Anne," I laughed. "Mulder, promise me, you'll never name your children something like that. Stick to conventional names like Sarah and Will and Lynne. Nothing like Gertrude or Mable, okay?"

I expected him to laugh at my silly request. But when I looked up at him, his face was harboring an emotion that most certainly wasn't happiness or humour. It looked more along the lines of.... sadness and regret and guilt.

Oh Mulder. Not tonight. Please, not tonight.

I know what he was thinking too. He was thinking about how I'll never be able to have children to give stupid OR conventional names to. He was wondering if it was his fault.

"Mulder..." I smiled at him, hoping reverently that I hadn't spoiled his good mood. I'd rarely seen Mulder as happy as he was today, and I wasn't about to let that go. "Mulder, it's okay. Let's just pick something to order, alright? Mulder?"

My voice seemed to snap him out of the funk he'd so suddenly fallen into, and he nodded, a smile slowly making it's way back across his face. "Okay, Scully. What are you having?"

"Hmmm..." I glanced over the menu I had been studying, but not really reading, as I was also studying my handsome partner. "Maybe the veal tenderloins? Or the filet mignons..."

"Well, I'm getting the filet mignons, so if you want to get the veal, I'll give you some of mine. Or we can share..."

He's so gracious.

"Thank you, Mulder, that's a good idea." He grinned, and I leaned back in my seat to look at him. He really was a ridiculous sight, all decked out in fuzzy purple fabric from his neck to his toes, his hair matted in some places and wildly mussed in others, his face flushed. It must have been really warm in that suit.

"I really love this song," he said suddenly. I paused to listen.

"Moonlight Sonata, Mulder?"

"Is that what's it's called? It's nice."

"Yeah, it is." I nodded. "It's Beethoven."

"Wanna dance, Scully?"

I laughed. "This isn't really the type of song you dance to, Mulder. Besides, no one else is dancing."

"That's because they're all waiting for someone else to start. C'mon." He stood from the table, holding out his hand to me.

Normally, I wouldn't have. I wouldn't have taken his hand. I wouldn't have let him pull me into a standing position. I wouldn't have let him put his plush arm around my waist. But it wasn't a normal day, like I've said so many times before. It just wasn't a normal day.

I looked up (and I mean *way* up he's almost a foot taller than me) and realized, with some amount of ironic humour that this wasn't, in fact, the strangest scenario we'd ever been in. This, dancing together in the middle of one of Washington's finest restaurants to Moonlight Sonata, wearing ridiculous Halloween costumes and being stared at by our fellow diners. Even for me, the enigmatic Dr. Scully, the Ice Queen, the reserved and rational scientist, the conservative female agent even for me, this wasn't all that "out there". Which made me realize just how strange my life has been since I'd been assigned to the X-files seven years ago. And how very boring my life would be had I not met Fox Mulder.

The feeling of his arms around me and the wonderful softness of his costume against my skin and the sound of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata around us was intoxicating. I tried to swallow around the lump of nervousness and excitement forming in my throat. He was looking at me watching my face, my eyes, my lips. He'd never looked at me quite like that before.

Suddenly I wanted desperately to know what he was thinking. Did he want me? I found it difficult to imagine he would ever find me attractive in an old Little Bo Peep costume, but then again, he was in full Tinky Winky garb, and I was so turned on I was getting light headed.

Slowly, I ran the tip of my tongue over the swell of my bottom lip, and this time, I *was* trying to be seductive.

I felt his breathing deepen, and he lowered his head so that his breath tickled my forehead. "You know, Scully," his voice was low and a little gruff. "This is pretty romantic."

And even though were were standing there, swaying slightly, dressed as Tinky Winky the teletubbie and Little Bo Peep, I agreed.

"Here eez your Iced Tea," our waiter's gratingly annoying voice sent us jumping away from each other like two opposite polls of a magnet.

"Thanks," Mulder barked, as startled as I was. And maybe even as disappointed.

The french waiter placed the pitcher on the table along with our glasses. We sat back down at the table and he took our orders for dinner.

"You think that guy really believes there's a criminal in here?" I had to ask, giggling.

"Absolutely," Mulder nodded. "We wouldn't be here if he didn't, that's for sure."

He poured us both a glass of iced tea and then brought his to his lips.

"Where do you think the caterpillar will strike next?" I asked after beat.

He shrugged. "It's hard to say. And it's a centipede, Scully."

I grinned. "Right."

Maybe it was because of the costumes, or maybe it was because of the bizarre nature of our case, or maybe it really was because of the full moon, but there was something different between us that night. Something exotic. Something exciting.

I always thought that when Mulder and I reached the point in our relationship where we'd take things to the next step that I'd be really nervous. That I'd be so afraid of risking our friendship (not to mention our jobs), that I would be hesitant.

The funny thing is, that right then, as strange as the circumstances were, I was pretty sure we'd reached that point.

And I wasn't nervous at all.

I could feel his big, stuffed paw/foot against my bare leg underneath the table. It slid up softly, then down again, a slow rhythm just above my ankle. And he was smiling.

I love the way his eyes twinkle when he's smiling, and tonight, they were twinkling more than normal. Jesus he looked sexy in that candlelight! So ruffled and luscious and radiant. I felt a wave of affection pass over me, and felt the sudden need to touch him. So I leaned over the table, intent on gently smoothing out his wildly mussed hair.

I managed to flatten a few soft locks before his gaze slowly traveled from my face to my chest, his eyes widening.

I felt my cheeks flush headily, until a strange smell met my nose.

I followed Mulder's gaze with rising panic, and sure enough, my ruffled, poofy, poka-dotted apron had brushed against the candle.

My breasts were on fire.

I screamed as I realized my whole dress was going up in flames. Helloooo? Hadn't those costume-making people ever heard of flame retardant material?

Suddenly, Mulder leapt from the table with the pitcher of iced tea and proceeded to dump the entire thing over my head. With a sizzle, the fire went out.

I felt relief for a fleeting moment, until I looked down at my charred chest. Most of the front of my dress was gone.

*Gone*.

With a little yelp, I jumped up from my seat and sprinted into the ladies' room, flying into a stall and locking the door.

Then I leaned my head back against the door and started to cry. I couldn't help it. I was humiliated. Dressing up like a nursery rhyme character and dancing in a public restaurant was one thing. I didn't know any of those people. I didn't care what they thought. But this was Mulder, and I'd ruined everything. I was standing there, dripping wet and sticky with iced tea, wearing half of a Little Bo Peep costume, embarrassed at my clumsiness and my bad timing.

Just when we had finally been getting somewhere.

"Scully?"

I heard his voice and hastily wiped my eyes. What the hell was he doing in the women's washroom? Maybe if I was really quiet he'd go away...

"Scully are you hurt? Did you burn yourself?"

Oh. He was worried that I'd melted my skin off. Well, that was different. "Mulder? I'm in here." I said softly, opening the door a crack.

"Scully? How bad is it? Do you need to go to the hospital?" The concern in his voice was very sweet, but I really didn't want to see him at the moment. I wanted to get cleaned up and I wanted to put some clothes on.

"I'm okay, Mulder. I didn't burn myself." I crossed my arms over my chest and stepped out of the stall.

"You sure?" he was frowning, the worry evident in his furrowed brow.

"Yes, positive. I just... ruined this this costume." I bit my lip, trying not to burst into tears again.

All of a sudden the worry was gone from his face and he was laughing. Roaring and howling like I've never heard him before.

And then I was laughing too. I guess it *was* pretty damn funny. Soon I was giggling as much as he was, and I had to hold onto him to keep myself upright. It didn't matter. He didn't care that I'd made a fool of myself. He didn't care that I was dripping with iced tea. He didn't care that I was barely wearing a piece of charred poka-dotted material.

When I heard the squeak of the washroom door being opened, I pulled him into the stall with me, pressing my finger to my lips to signal to him to be quiet. We watched a pair of stiletto heels clip-clop their way into the stall beside us.

For the 3 minutes it took the woman to use the washroom and wash her hands and fix her makeup, we stood in that stall (which was relatively big, a luxury I'm sure the restaurant routinely boasted) with my hand clasped over his mouth, and his clasped over mine. When we finally did hear the door close with her departure, we let each other go, bursting once again into a fit of hysterical laughter.

It was amazing. This was amazing. He was amazing. We'd never had this much fun together.

Slowly, my back to the stall wall, I slipped to the floor, and he followed suit on the other side.

"Mulder," I gulped, my voice hoarse from laughing. "I have nothing to wear."

He grinned, looking at me that same way he had when we were dancing, and I finally realized what that look was.

Hunger.

"Trust me, Scully. You look just fine like that." He was staring at my chest, and I realized I'd uncrossed my arms and was, save for a few scraps of material, nude from the waist up. I'm sure I was blushing like a fucking fire hydrant.

"You have beautiful breasts, Scully." His voice was hoarse and it made my blood rush through my veins with unbelievable pressure. I could feel my pulse throbbing in my temples and my belly and lower.

I looked up at him, catching his impish, grey-green gaze and holding it for a moment before I leaned across the stall. I took his lovely face in my hands and I kissed him.

I can't even begin to describe to you the sensation of that gorgeous mouth, finally pressed against mine after 7 long years. His lips were warm and soft and pliant and inviting. He parted them gently, asking permission, receiving it as I plunged my tongue into his warm mouth. I tasted him, running my hands through his still-ruffled hair, relishing the feeling of his hands moving in lazy circles over my back and shoulders.

"Scully," he whispered breathlessly, pulling away for a moment. "You taste like iced tea."

I smiled, feeling his prickly-hot breath against my throat before he pressed his lips there, caressing the tendons and muscles underneath my skin. Maybe washing up *wasn't* such a good idea...

A very noisy "Splash!" from beside us interrupted his ministrations. We both looked over at the toilet in time to see Mulder's giant, Green-bellied African centipede crawl over the seat, leaving a trail of slimy-looking goo in it's path.

With a startled yelp, my partner reached out and slammed the toilet seat (which was thankfully up at the time) onto the creature's head. It screeched, then went limp and slithered back down the toilet.

I looked at Mulder, whom I was still pretty much on top of. His eyes were wide, a hint of a grin playing on his swollen lips. I shook my head incredulously.

It was certainly not a normal day.

"Scully, listen," Mulder whispered.

"What?" I frowned.

"Listen. The radio."

Oh.

I listened, and sure enough, there was music playing in that washroom, and not the classical stuff they had in the dining hall. This was the radio.

This was KC and the Sunshine Band.

"Ohhh, Mulder," I groaned, shaking my head. He nodded, grinning, as he stood up and pulled me with him.

"I'm gonna teach you my dance, Scully." He pulled me to him, a more heated version of our earlier dancing position. I wrapped my arms around his neck, chuckling into his chest.

"Do a little dance..." He sang into my ear, swaying his hips from side to side, a replication of the routine I'd witnessed that morning. My hips automatically swayed with his we were pressed together that close. "Make a little love..." again, his voice in my ear. Then a quick, centered thrust from his lower body that sent a wave of glorious heat through mine. Suddenly I wasn't really into dancing OR the thick material of the my partner's costume.

It had to come off off off.

He laughed as he felt my hands tugging frantically at the long zipper on the back of the suit. "We didn't even get to 'Get down tonight'..."

"Oh, we will, Mulder," I promised, pushing the costume off his strong shoulders. "We definitely will."


Maybe it wasn't the ideal setting. And maybe it wasn't the ideal circumstances. And maybe it was a little strange.

Or a lot strange.

But with me and Mulder, everything always is. So why should this have been any different?

I'm still blaming most of the bizarre events that happened that day on the full moon. But you can bet that from now on, I'll be paying close attention to the calendar, and looking forward to those few nights a month when the moon is round and ripe.

THE END


The Almighty Components:

1. Mulder and Scully must share a romantic evening together where the names Petula, Jebediah, and Beatrice-Anne are mentioned
2. Scully must at one time in the story mention an obsession towards the playing of Nintendo
3. Mulder and/or Scully must at one time sing "Do a little dance, make a little love, get down tonight" while performing their own thought-up actions to the words.
4. A sexual innuendo regarding a toothbrush must be encompassed in a conversation between Mulder and Scully
5. Mulder dressed as a Teletubbie (you chose the tubbie identity....I'm partial to Po, though)
6. Scully must at one time do something that leads her to be completely mortified/embarrassed...in front of Mulder that is, but her reason cannot involve any ideas suggested by me, Tara.
7. The name John Jacob Jingle Heimer Schmidt must be included, but it cannot involve the mention of the song.
8. Skinner must at one time or another be in a pink tutu (No dream sequences please)
9. A mention of a "horny, green and yellow caterpillar" must somehow be incorporated into the story

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