"This story is based on the characters and situations created by Cris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting. Used without permission and no infringement is intended. All other contents are copyrighted to the author..." The following work is for the distribution and entertainment of EMXC members only. Any further distribution of this work without the author's consent is in violation of federal law. Please contact the EMXC host, Karen Enriquez (XFC SciNut@aol.com), if you have recieved this work from anywhere other than the above group without the author's permission. Introduction: Here's my answer to all the M/S relationship stuff I've been reading. While I like being able to explore stuff outside the parameters of the show, I'm not sure if its all that believable. Since I can't stand Mary Sue stories, but enjoy adult stories which include aspects of relationships ....here's my attempt at having it all. Without actually dealing with believability or all of the other dramatic land mines. Frankly I don't want to deal with them, so here's a blatant cheat - if it didn't really happen, then it can't really effect our favorite agents. Or can it? Pheronomes? By MLeaper 7/24/95 (new version 9/6/95) On Stakeout Arlington, VA Mulder's sore neck cracked audibly as he struggled to find a comfortable position for his lanky frame in the cramped and musty interior of the bureau issued economy car. "Do we have to listen to that station" a distinct little boy whine filled his voice as he wriggled around in the car seat for the fiftieth time that hour. His partner looked distinctly smug and suspiciously at ease for a field agent stuck in the all the horrors of a boring all night stake out on a dark suburban cul de sac. "Now Mulder, we agreed that the person on watch gets to pick the station." His sigh conveyed all of the suffering of a martyr being immensely put upon out of the kindness of his heart. This wretched collection of unbearable music was Scully's revenge. And why, because this stakeout was Skinner's latest sadistic idea of a punishment detail for unrepentant agents. But why take it out on him? Was it his fault that Skinner hadn't forgiven them for actually proving their latest x-file? It certainly wasn't his fault that the ghost of J. Edgar Hoover turned out to be well, a little odd'. Speaking of odds, the chances of anything actually happening outside of this suburban collection of kitsch was nil. The suspected middleman for an international drug ring was already sound asleep and the odds of anything happening at his house during the middle of a foggy Virginia night were undoubtedly astronomical. But of course his partner would insist on meticulously monitoring it every second of their assigned watch. "Watch for what, a mutated squirrel monster? As for the radio, that was only for reasonable stations -come on - who listens to this stuff?" he felt a stirring of hope. Maybe they could turn back to his favorite station. How often did they work here in the DC area. Some cities didn't have a single decent station. At least none that the radios in their rental cars would get. For that matter, how often did those radios even work. "I do and now so do you." that firm Scully - no more nonsense - tone was a familiar warning that ended Mulder's whining with finality. The still wide awake agent wriggled around again jamming his overcoat against the door to form a head rest. His eye caught the oddly familiar silhouette beneath the row of box woods in front of the surveillance subjects house. "Hey, a garden gnome, I haven't seen one of those in years." Scully's eyes narrowed in concentration. "Nome? Nome, Alaska? And who's guarding it?" He sighed and pointed across the street. Sometimes his partner's too literal mind could make for truly bizarre conversations. Of course, there was that sneaking suspicion that she was feindishly pulling his leg and laughing at him behind that poker face. Oh well, anything to see those eyes smile. "Oh, you mean that ugly concrete toadstool next to the garbage cans? Someone is showing a flash of good taste and getting rid of it. Can you imagine seeing that face leering through your windows at you first thing every morning." "Now Scully, garden gnomes are a common form of folk art in certain areas." "So are pink flamingoes - but what kind of person would own one? And the lawn flamingoes, its an evil plot to ruin people's day. They're way too tacky for law abiding citzens. Has anyone done a study on the home decorating choices of criminal types?" "Now Scully, you'd better be careful. Insulting one of the little people can be a dangerous thing." He'd finally found a comfortable angle to relax on the cramped car seat, and he planned to indulge in his favorite hobby. Teasing Scully. Coming up with outlandish ideas to shake his normally unflappable partner had become one of his favorite ways of passing time during boring periods at work and it was surprisingly cozy here inside the warm car with the chilly fog drifting through the night air outside the windows. "If you're going to start seeing X-Files under every bush, why don't you just try to get some sleep". There was that so infrequently heard but always welcome note of fond indulgence in her voice as she switched the radio over to a lulling classical music station. He slowly felt himself sink into a drifting peace, the warmth created by her words seeming to spread into a gentle slide down into a restful sleep. "Ouch" An instant of panic snapped him awake. As his eyes snapped open the splitting headache started by his sudden awakening revealed to his annoyance only a frowning Scully scowling across the street vigorously rubbing her upper left arm. "Rotten bugs" "Do you want me to watch now, you could try stretching out for awhile" his initial panic still roughened his voice as he gazed with a jaundiced eye out at the calm scene marred only by some sort of animal slinking towards the garbage cans. Probably just a neighborhood cat out on the prowl. "No, I just don't understand. Why, wherever we go, does every bug in town attack me but you never get so much as a mosquito bite?" He could literally see his red haired partner building up a head of steam as a becoming blush spread across her face. "And another thing? Why is it that you can't sleep at night, but you can happily snore away in this torture box - you can even sleep in 707s. No one over 4 feet should be able to sleep in those things. Unless they're a contortionist." his partner's voice was becoming increasingly husky throughout her diatribe. He noticed with surprise the always meticulous Scully toss the valuable night scope into the back seat. That was extremely odd, after all of her snippy comments about klutz's and lectures on its delicacy when it just happened to roll off earlier that evening, and was that odd shape waddling through the shadows a neighborhood cat or as it seemed to be ....a cackling gnome carrying a fishing pole like a spear? "Yes, those long muscular legs, and that firm taut rear.." He must have misheard somehow, maybe he really did need to change some of his entertainment choices. She couldn't possibly be saying what he thought she was - and what in the world did some of that "throbbing manhood" stuff mean. It sounded suspiciously like something he'd once heard referred to as "bodice ripping" romance novel version of language. "Now Scully" he broke off in consternation as his normally sedate partner started crawling in his direction giggling and saying "lets just investigate this possible x-files thoroughly, verrry thoroughly". The sounds now issuing from the ever professional forensic pathologist's throat could only be described as a playful growl "We need to see all of the physical evidence - NOW". "Scully, stop kidding around. Scully, Scully, you aren't feeling like yourself. It must have been that gnome, it must have been. We don't really want to do this, or that, oh yes, umm you definitely - no don't - wouldn't want to do that, not in your right mind. Stop now" he struggled weakly, or at least didn't help as those surprisingly strong hands began to prove him wrong. "We'll regret this tomorrow." He could hear himself babbling and feel his entire body show exactly how bad a liar he was. "Just shut up and save my life, this is the only cure - if you don't put out the fire, I'll melt." It did seem to be the only logical thing to do. She was a Doctor after all, and maybe this really was the only way to cure her. The red head was suddenly every fantasy figure he'd ever watched in lonely hunger contained in the one person he knew better than any other. To find the one person he trusted wanting him like this. It was the most exciting moment of his life and the most terrifying. "The gnome - it must be a PHERO-GNOME" he shouted triumphantly during the final rush of pleasure. Gazing up into his partner's enraptured face, a weird darkness spread before his eyes. Clearing suddenly to his utter shock. He found himself sitting jammed against the seat rest clutching his coat and looking into a set of oddly lucid green eyes. His partner's normally stolid composure and flawlessly professional appearance was creased only by the oddly familiar mix of worry and scandalized amusement peeking out of her eyes. Mulder felt heat rise through his face and offered up devout thanks for the covering darkness filled with mortified horror. Not only had he apparently just had some sort of surrealistic wet dream, during a stakeout in a small economy sedan with Scully no less, but he had apparently developed some sort of weird obsession with concrete kitsch. Scully relaxed back into the driver's seat, the night vision scope returning to rest on the top of the steering wheel. "You okay now? You must have been having some nightmare, you were muttering about gnomes, of course that statue's leer would give anyone nightmares. I'm sorry I turned off the radio. It must have woken you up. We can turn the radio back on again - your choice of stations." "No, its your turn." Mulder's voice sounded hoarse and labored. "You can have whatever you'd like - for tonight at least." A bitter humor filled him...the psychologist within had already signaled a red alert. //Oh right Mulder, your drop dead gorgeous - but totally professional partner was so enchanted by a pixie she insulted that only you could save her. Its time to do some serious rethinking// any way you translated the dream it spelled trouble. He tried to look as though something intensely interesting was occurring outside his window. Suddenly an odd fact caught his attention. He consulted his former mental picture twice. //It can't possibly be...//"Scully, the gnome, it was facing towards us before. Did someone move it?" --------------------- Well, I hope everyone likes this. My first attempt at an adult story. If it was okay, please help out. I've been reading fanfic for years, but never tried to actually write any until recently. Writing fiction is much harder than it looks as you all know. So while I know my stories have lots of probs - its nearly impossible to revise myself. Trying to evaluate your own work is tough. At least when you're starting out. So please, please :-) give me some constructive criticism. Tell me what you think could be done to fix this or even just give me an idea of what parts you thought were okay. Thanks, please contact MLeaper@aol.com.