Title: Hyperglycemic To The Bone
Author: Susan Littlejohn
Email: susanlittlejohn@netscape.net or SusieXF@webtv.net
Rating: PG
Category: Vignette/MSR-light
Spoilers: The ones you recognize are the ones you get to keep.
Summary: Once you get started...
Disclaimer: The X-Files and its characters are exclusive property 
of C. Carter, 1013 and FOX.  No infringement intended, ever.  No 
money made.
Archive: That's fine.
Note: "Low Blood Sugar" sequel.

Hyperglycemic To The Bone
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FBI Headquarters
Washington, D.C.
X-Files Office
1:00 P.M.



Mulder's frown dissolved into a softer holding of the eyebrow line.
Her making request for another kiss was completely unexpected.  He
hesitated, desirous of milking this serendipitous development for
maximum pleasure.  "Such tergiversation from you, Scully?  It's the end
of an era," he teased, but flushed with a feral eagerness to clinch her
decision.  When all was said and done, really pleasing her was the
priority.  One long overdue.

"My, my, Mulder...one of the three-dollar words."

"Nothing but the best for you, Scully."

Unlike last time, tamping down her blush met with failure.  She bit the
edge of her lower lip, holding her breath, as she beheld the smoldering
fluidity in his eyes.  Speaking of the best, she thought, in giddy
feverishness, plant another winner like that last sizzler.  You rock
with a vengence, Mulder...  She toyed with the idea of telling him so,
but then thought much better of it, and merely smiled what she imagined
was her guileless best.

He neared her parted lips all set to deliver the determinater when...

The phone halted his orificial advent.

Cerebrally, they shared the word of damnation.

"Hold that pucker, G-woman," Mulder insisted with a brisk tone, as his
hold on her pliant body slackened, "I'll get back to ya.  Whoever this
is, I'll tell 'em we're in the middle of something big."

"Big, Mulder?  You're not trying to influence my decison, are you?"

A second before answering the phone, and looking circumspect, he
assured, "Who me?  Now when have I ever been known to do that, Scully?"

"What if it's Skinner?"

Mulder grimaced, his mind already on the case in the event of that
liklihood.

Scully raised her eyebrow in response to seeing his wheels turning.
Even though she'd sounded testy, the rest of her bearing was a mismatch
for the timbre of rebuff.  She really wanted him to kiss her again,
with the same verve as formerly.

But the threat of a Skinner imposition forestalled the, she edged
towards judging, the indulgent replay.  She extracted her mental rule
of thumb.  The looming image of their straightedge of a superior
whirled in the vortex as it approached her mind's eye.

The inadmissibility of their keeping him waiting was legendary.  On
those unforseen occasions when making him wait was unavoidable, his
irascible intractability and hardlineness with them was a direct
result.  Who couldn't live with a more mellow, more wieldy Skinner?  In
fact, keeping Skinner at 'comfort level' bay was fast becoming a joint
project.  A project they were getting better at with each passing close
call.

"Federal Bureau of Investigation, Office of the X-Files..."  Mulder
smiled, liking the new way he'd begun answering their phone lately.
His tone had taken on a more official description; a more
prestigious tenor even to his ear, ever since the formal reinstatement.
"How may I help you?"

<"Mulder?">

"Speaking.  Frohike?"

<"Yeah, it's me.  But, you sure don't sound like you, man.  What's the
deal?  You moonlighting as a valet to supplement your income?">

Covering the mouthpiece, he breathed to Scully, "Relax, it's Fro'."

Scully nodded, turned her back on her partner, deciding to restart in
on her lunch before the mayo turned bad, and the cole slaw grew soggy
beyond consumption.

"What did you guys pull up?" Mulder resumed with Frohike.  "I was
right, then?  Not just a black op's shadow this time, huh?"

<"You and Scully'd better get over here on the double, 'cause if you
think I'm going to broadcast over your suspect line...think again.">

As Scully took her second bite of sandwich, and then promptly followed
that up with a forkful of slaw, Mulder replied, "This line is as secure
as yours, Frohike."

<"Oh, yeah, Mulder.  Not a chance after that LAST time.  So, if you
want what we got on your splotch, we'll be expecting the ever-vivacious
Agent Scully and you within the hour.  Later, man.">

"Within."  After ending the call, Mulder gave Scully another second to
swallow.  No sense having her gag in mid-irritability.  She claimed the
can of diet soda, took a good swig, and after she set it down, he said,
"Finishing lunch will have to wait..."

"Mulder, if you handed me a quarter for every time I've been
interrupted from finishing lunch, I'd be able to retire from the
Bureau, a very rich woman.  One possessing blood sugar levels, which
would make any self-respecting rollercoaster jealous, but very rich,
nevertheless."

Scully, Scully, there you go with that perky iconoclastic wit of yours
that daily drives me up the wall and back down, he thought.  What would I do
without it?  Only marginally floored by her scowly reaction to being
told as much, Mulder grinned.

But, in the next moment, what did catch him off guard was her asking
when they'd get to finish the *experiment*.

And in the second breath, "Must it be put off, as well?"

Mulder weighed his words carefully, lest dampening her, what looked
like to him, having all the earmarks of authentic enthusiasm.  Nothing
like answering a question with a question, which is what he normally
opted for.  "Do *you* wanna put it off, Scully?"

"Only if you think we should..."  The corner hadn't been blueprinted,
much less built, in which she could be boxed into by him.  A one-up
smile languished on her mayonaised lips.  Mulder, Mulder, she tinkered,
swabbing off her labial jewels with a coarse napkin, removing most of
her lipstick.

Confirmation of the UFO sighting can wait, his heart snapped at the
one-track mindedness of his mind, which lobbied for racing right over
to find out one way or the other.  The guys'll still be there way over
an hour from now.  And if I feel like gettin' down to cases, they'll
be there multiple scores of hours from now.

But, Scully eager for us to lip-lock...that's another case altogether.
Another golden opportunity...what I've always longer for, he judged
with a clarity that prolonged his seemingly impenetrable silence.

"Well, Mulder?  Are we, or aren't we going to finish what *you*
started?"  She stood, came to stand in front of his desk, taking her
time about the whole proceeding, not erecting a wall of cockiness about
how she was coming across, as in the past.  Mulder was behaving
differently today, and the fact that he was, made all the difference.

"What *we* started," he said, marveling over how humbly it had come
out.  Coaching ever so lightly, "Right?"

Scully studied him with a lucidity she'd never dared allow herself to
approach, till now.  Mulder was just as unsure of himself as she was
about her own trepidiations, revolving around the amorphous sphere of
being rejected.  I'd never reject him, she analyzed, tiptoeing up to
the forbidden zone's wiremesh-protected checkpoint, deciding then and
there that she owed it to herself to use her passport.  It certainly
had the proper documentation.  Her stamps of deep, abiding care and
concern for this eccentric, but intrepid man.  "What we've started,"
she softly agreed.

"May I?"  With a tinge of reservedness, he advanced on her, never
taking his eyes away from hers, which were filled with an awe he'd
never before witnessed.

She was filling his arms even before being fully aware of it.  The
august hug came first.  The feel of her was enough to make him lose
consciousness alone.  He felt himself sway a bit.  "Mulder, are you all
right?" she asked, drawing away slightly.

"I'm fine, Scully," he assured her, and compensated for the negligible
distance she'd defined between them by drawing her in tighter.  He was
holding an X-File.  X-File Number One, he labeled, after all these
consumptive years, laden with hardship upon hardship.  Scully
willingly allowing herself to be drawn into his perimeter of need.  If
he was still dreaming, he'd kick himself in the morning.  "I'm
perfect," he assured.  And it's all because of you...those lyrics
lulled, in his heady brain.

"I'll be the judge of that," she arched.  When her mirthful chuckle
escaped, he treated himself to a quick peck on her cheek.

"Anything you say, Scully."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

"So, how's about that kiss?"

Mulder's heart leapt at the invitation, kissing her longer, deeper, and
sweeter than the two previous times.  This time their tongues did the
dance of the fireflies until the muscular members wore themselves out,
practically spazing.

"Ya know, Scully, that really is some very good tasting slaw.  Is there
any left?"  Smacking his lips, he went on, as though he were a country
fair prize awarder.  "There's just the right amount of pickle juice
lacing it for that blend of pungent flavor."  He winked, full of spice,
content with having her in his arms until whenever.  The look she was
radiating caused him to inquire, "Two out of three?"

Actually, Scully, he thought, probing her emotions with glassy, yet
playful eyes, I could stand here and kiss you all day...

He does the FWM version of the Feejee Mermaid on my mouth like there's
no tomorrow, and he's talking pickles?  Is there any wonder why he
spends Saturday nights alone?  Now what's *my* excuse?  At that
instant, she didn't know whether she wanted to slug him, or, on
impulse, reciprocate his mastery.  Mulder's a kisser from way back, she
inwardly proclaimed, the genuine article, feeling ever so gently
pixilated.  Now what?  What do I tell him?

"In all fairness, there is improvement," she spiked, trying to keep a
straight face, in the face of his, rife with anticipation.

"What kind of improvement are we talkin' here, Scully?"

"A five, uh--no, no.  In all honesty, a five-an'-a-half," she fibbed.

Mulder sighed, longer and more drawn out than he'd intended.  "Least
I'm workin' my way up."  Scully had to nod, pleased with herself over
playing him properly.

"Mulder..."

"Yeah?"

"Even though you ate, maybe your system's still craving more
nourishment.  You know, better than just a sandwich with a soda
chaser..."  Careful, you're sounding just a little too eager, dear
girl, as a frisson of excitement rippled through her.  If you give
yourself away, you'll spoil the bigger picture.  Give myself...uhmmm.

"And, you're suggesting?"

Scully's arms dropped to his waist, and it was her turn to squeeze,
which caused Mulder to give a startled yelp this time around.
"Dinner at my place, after we pop in on Gunmen numbers one through
three, to prove the reasonableness of my hypothesis.  If I know my
Gunmen..."

"Sounds like a date, Scully," he rallied, recovering from shock nicely.

"Call it what you will.  With my feeding you, at least you're
guaranteed a balanced, nutritionally-sound meal."

"And more experimentation?" Mulder levied.

"That depends, Mulder."

"Depends on what?"

"How hungry you really are.  Trust me, before I'm finished with you,
your blood sugar levels won't know what hit them."

"My appetite, with me in tow, will be at your place, whenever you say,
with a bottle of white, and bells on, Scully..."  The suggestive wink
he flashed made her knees weaken further, and when she trembled, Mulder
held his breath, unsure of whether it was he, not she, who was doing
the dance of the seven veils.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Scully's Apartment
8:45 P.M.


Sipping a little more of the delicious vintage of wine Mulder had
selected, Scully sat across from him at the un-leaved, elegantly-set
dinner table, threading him very sated looks.  Poor man, she seemed to
say with her eyes.  Bet this was the best meal he's had in a dog's age.
In the background, a David Benoit tune softly played.

As though he'd just read her thoughts, he said, "Gee, Scully.  I knew
you were a great cook--don't ask me how I knew, I just did--but that
was the BEST lasagne I've ever eaten.  What kind of meat was that?
And that cheese!  Oh, boy.  I've never had such rich mozzarella in my
life."

"That wasn't meat."

Mulder set his wine glass down, surprised.  "Not meat?  Uh, then what
was it?"

"Hydrolized protein and natural flavorings.  You know, the same sort of
stuff they use in veggie burgers--"

Mulder gaped at her, suffering from a sudden dose of distaste.  "The
sorta stuff I try like crazy to stay away from.  You've bamboozeled me,
woman."

"Why, I did nothing of the kind, Mister."  Scully gave her head a small
shake, gazing at him with her trusty, smug expression standing her in
good stead.  "Was it your third, or fourth helping when you realized
you weren't eating honest to goodness hormone-bloated beef and pork?"

Mulder opened his mouth, but, not wanting the evening to turn out their
usual rocky road way, he decided to flip the subject over on its
conversational head.  No harm in giving her a delicate nudge in the
right direction, and him as well.  "Okay, Betty Crocker, you've got
me."

Oh, I surely hope so, Mulder, she thought, missioning her silent
wish fulfillments as she continued to get a handle on his tack.  "So,
you're willing to admit you liked the substitutive plant product?"

"As long as you're fixing it, yeah," he said, and hoped she realized he
meant that.  "You know, Scully, I think we sorta had a first today."

"Oh?  Meaning?"  She dabbed at her mouth, then laid the embroidered
napkin, a powdery teal component of the fancy set a maiden aunt had
given her, aside.

"Well...our theories' equal--"

She stole the precognitive ball and ran with it.  "Validity.  Your
alleged UFO with its residual lights, and my, 'shadow play' a la
Aurora borealis in the reddish pre-dusk sky."

"Has ta make ya wonder whether this time the wavy merry dancers could
have been--"

"Luminous meteoric phenomenon, but not of electrical origin, as it's
usually supposed," Scully said with a satisfaction he found soothing
like balm.  "When he read off those readings, Langly sounded like a
kid with a..."

"A new game boy," Mulder handily supplied.  "Pokemon."

"And we both know how much he loves those."  She took up her wine glass
again, and looked through the blond liquid which gave everything else
a golden aspect.

"Can't really blame him, though.  He made the novel event dead on.  And
with their ionoscanners and aerogeo instrumentation, the analysis as a
direct result.  Not to mention all the diagnostic levels they run as
standard thurifer-sensitive procedure.  Ya really gotta give it to our
Musketeers.  We could be dealing with a totally new celestial
phenomenon here, Scully.  One that extra-terrestrials could be
responsible for."

"Even *I* won't rule that out so quickly.  The reason for the east to
west appearance of the arch evidencing from north to south as well,
and, at the same time, with dual coronas, certainly bears further
investigation.  Whenever that pans out to be.  With our current case
load, getting the time could be a phenomenon in and of itself."

He nodded in complete agreement, raising his glass to clink it with
hers.  "Here, here...but, y'know, maybe we could purloin some
extracurricular field tripping time of our own, when the bulk's whittled
down some.  And I promise, no ditching."  Her visage, looking as soft
as aloe-treated tissue, was the influencer of his decision to seize the
moment, along with his partner, "Speaking of further investigation,
Scully..."

She lowered her eyes, fully cognizant of where he was leading, by his
manner alone.  "Yes?" she dangled.

"I'm ready.  Are you?"

She pinned him with an incisive look.  "Dessert first."  He's looking
deliciously malleable tonight, she thought, suppressing the sprite-like
urge to snigger.

"Exactly what I had in mind."  He finished off his wine, wiped off his
moistened lips, with a teal twin, then stood.  He advanced, mincingly
at first, but the more he read acceptability in her lively eyes,
shimmering their bluest, the more determined his steps became.  Of
course he was nervous, it was his self-denigratory stock and trade,
that dogged him to seemingly no end.  But, for once, tonight, he
wasn't listening to the muted whimperings of 'hold back; you're
rejection waiting to happen.'  He wanted the unpedestrian tonight; had
pined long enough for the denied.

While in the act of claiming her arm beneath the elbow, wanting her to
stand, she observed, "Purely in the interests of Science, of course..."

"I owe my life many times over to Science, Scully, which is precisely
why I'm with you now..."  There was no trace of tremor to his hands as
they molded to her torso as though he were a potter.  He waited,
making sure she really wanted to.

Science?  Yeah, right?  Give it up, Mulder.  "Uh, are you going to kiss
me, or moon me with your eyes all night?" she teased, pursing her lips.

Okay, so she did, and she proved it by grasping the back of his head.
But, clearly, he could see that she wanted his lips to assume command,
as they'd done those other glorious times.  He eased his 'smilers' onto
hers, and Scully sighed in syrupy pleasure when his tongue, with
delicate expertise, crammed it's way between her soft, fleshy fruitage.
To romp at will, with Scully's which was just as lustily eager to join
its playmate in the free-for-all.

Two or three minutes later, give or take, to allow for coming up for a
nanosecond of air, they separated, and regarded one another in sweet
reverie.  Enough with the games, Scully told herself, instantly
unwilling to ploy the ruse further.  He knows he works magic, and if I
tell him that one was a six...the little defeatist in his soul may
convince him to find someone who'll appreciate his gift better than I'm
letting on.

The truth was all set to leap out of her mouth, when Mulder judged he'd
better say something to allay the dismay that had crept into her eyes.
"Maybe I'm not nourished enough yet, Scully..."

"That's not it, Mulder."  She touched his lips with fore and middle
fingers, fingering; savoring their plush feel.  Deprive myself of these
beauties?  I don't think so.  "Perhaps treating this experiment as if
it's an X-File could prove beneficial."

"Beneficial in what way, Scully?" he lobbed, his interest in her candor
piqued as never before.

"Well, whenever the particular case we're trying to solve is a toughie,
what is our normal 'modus operandi'?" she said, drawing him out out a
dulcent tone.

"We investigate the life out of it, and that's literally, sometimes.
You know...until something that resembles sense is made."

Scully nodded, right with his line of reasoning.  "Oh, and don't forget
the incumbent field follow-ups when indicated."

"And not blatantly indicated, eh, Scully?  You're tangling with Mister
Ditch.  True?"

"I propose we run as many tests deemed necessary to establish once and
for all the attainment of your peak...peak, oh, for want of more
scientific terminology--optimal kiss quotient."

"Optimal kiss quotient.  That sounds mighty scientific to me, Scully.
But y'know *that* could take some time to establish.  So many
variables, sometimes so little nourishment."

"Oh, I could help out in the nourishment department, Mulder."

"As in you'll supply?"

"Don't I always?" she encouraged, enthralled when he drew her to
himself again, and 'ran another test,' which lasted longer than the
previous trial.

When Mulder had recovered sufficiently, enabling speech, he whispered
into her milky cheek, "It's like I've been telling you, Scully, all
these years.  Those obligatory field follow-ups are their own
reward..."

"You may have a point, Mulder," Scully obliged.  "You're definitely
getting better handling this tailor-made one...much better.  But,
you're talking far too much for this experiment."  Targeting his nucha,
to work her way towards his mouth, nibble-nippping on the journey with
hers, she got down to cases.  "Research's the key."  A hairsbreath
from his mouth, "Thorough, *deep* probing research..."  If she played
her Mulder right, this in-depth study could go on indefinitely.

Mulder, mezmerized by how she wanted him to follow through, licked his
lips which were poised before hers, like holy men preparing to render
sacred sacrifice.  "Deep.  The only kind of probing research that
satisfies..."

"As I've always maintained, Mul..."

End

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Feel free to insert your own imaginations, sweeties, to allow for
whatever happens next....
susanlittlejohn@netscape.net
feedback if you care to...thanks much