A Drive To Distraction By Slippin' Mickeys red_phile@yahoo.com CLASSIFICATION: MSR RATING: PG-13 SUMMARY: Mulder looking sweaty and tanned. Scully in the passenger seat, totally hot and bothered. Six years of UST. You do the math. KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully Romance SPOILERS: None. DISCLAIMER: Let's see, does Chris Carter own them? Yes. How about 1013? That would be an affirmative. Hmm… how about Fox, do they own a piece of Moose and Squirrel? They sure do. Does Slippin' Mickeys? Um, NO. Damn. However, if I did, they'd be happier, healthier, and sore. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: To Pam and Reg, the only two chat chicks of Monday night to boldly go where Slippin' Mickeys has never gone before. NC-17 territory. I was originally going to put here "Until now" but… um… I chickened out. Maybe next time. ;) ARCHIVE: Go right on ahead! But let me know where it so that I can visit, and keep all the info attached. FEEDBACK: Couldn't make me happier! red_phile@yahoo.com NOTE: Try to write a serious piece while your next door neighbors are boinking each other's brains out, and it'll turn into smut (or the closest thing Slippin' will get to it). There's no escaping it. "Well color me happy, there's a sofa in here for two!" --Julia Roberts, "Pretty Woman" A Drive To Distraction By Slippin' Mickeys XxXxXxXxXxX A broken knob. That is how it started: with a broken climate control knob on a rented Dodge Intrepid, at midday in July, in the back roads of central Ohio. To try to reconstruct the events that let up the inevitable would have been futile, because it was just that—inevitable. But futility or no, they looked back on what had happened that day to best figure out what would happen in the future, and to attempt to see more clearly what the consequences of their actions would be. And whether fate had anything to do with it or not, unrecoverable events were set into motion when Special Agent Fox Mulder, in a fit of irritation, turned the handle to the car's climate control a touch too hard, and it broke off in his hand. XxXxXxXxXxX "Don't let him get to you Mulder," Special Agent Dana Scully said to her partner as he slammed his car door shut, "he's just a crotchety old man, too jaded to listen to your theories, and too close to retirement to care." Mulder glanced in her direction to let her know he'd heard her, and started the car, pulling out onto the main road a tad to fast and haphazardly to remain in the confines of safe driving. He pulled a little at his tie, and undid the top two buttons of his dress shirt to try to alleviate the uncomfortable clinging sensation of his shirt on his sweat dampened skin. The combination of an uncooperative sheriff's department, and a week-long stay in Nowheresville, Ohio during the longest running heat wave the Midwest had seen in fifty years, had not put Fox Mulder in the best of moods. Being told off by a man who looked like Walter Mathou on his *best* day was the last straw. Mulder had politely told the sheriff that the FBI's involvement was indefinitely finished, and hastily left the department, an acquiescing Scully right on his heels, for the nearest airport which was over 80 miles away. He swiped his forearm at his brow, brushing away the quickly accumulating drops of sweat, and stepped on the gas a little harder. "It's *fucking* hot in here," he growled in a low tone, and reached across the console to the air conditioning controls, turning the knob in no particular direction with an overly aggressive flick of his wrist. The knob came off in his hand. "Fuck," he whispered harshly, as he fumbled to refit the knob back onto the control. Getting more irritated when it wouldn't go back on, he nearly swerved off of the road when his partner said his name. "Mulder," she said, in a calming voice, "why don't you watch the road and let me give it a try." He nodded and handed her the broken fixture, turning his attention back to the road, while using his free hand to undue his tie completely and throw it angrily into the backseat. After several minutes of fiddling with it, Scully threw the little piece of plastic on the dashboard and heaved a sigh. "Well, the heat is stuck on high, the knob is broken, and it's not going back on. So much for the safety deposit," she said, shrugging off her blazer jacket and folding it neatly in her lap. "Unbe-fucking-lievable." Mulder said quietly to himself, as he used the controls to put all of the windows down, gripping the steering wheel tightly in barely contained fury, "perfect fucking end to a perfect fucking week." XxXxXxXxXxX Despite his persistent use of the work "fuck," and the fact that she would now have to sit in a car in 100 degree heat wearing nylons, a wool skirt and silk blouse that now clung to her like an uncomfortable second skin, Scully was still a little sympathetic toward her partner. Not much, but a little. She looked out the windows at the rolling fields and flat, brown landscape of the Midwestern country-side, and reached her hand out the window. The strong, steady current of hot air wasn't helping to cool her off, it was just whipping her hair into her eyes and drowning out the sound of the radio that was the only thing keeping her from being bored to tears. Mulder wasn't very talkative when he was pissed off. Scully rolled her window up about half-way, dug around in her purse until she found a rubber band, and made quick work of putting her hair up. The bit of hair that hung near her face didn't make it into the ponytail, but it kept the hair from clinging to the back of her neck, vastly improving her comfort level. She undid the first few buttons on her blouse, heedless of the cleavage that was sure to show, kicked off her shoes, and stole a glance at Mulder, who was in the process of completely removing his dress shirt. She noticed him struggling to get the sleeves off, and offered to help. "You want me to take the wheel, Mulder?" She offered. "Would you?" He answered back, his dour mood seeming to have improved slightly. She nodded and grabbed the steering wheel, trying not to notice the way his muscles rippled and back arched when he grabbed the back of his shirt just below the neck with both hands, and pulled it off over the top of his head, in one fluid motion. She bit her lip as he took the wheel back, brushing her hand in the process, and offered her a gracious "Thanks." She wondered if the heat was getting to her. She could usually overcome the nudges her brain occasionally shot her that said things like, "your partner is an attractive man. Ooo, look at those forearms…" And "Look at the way he eats those sunflower seeds… Wouldn't mind being the object of *that* particular oral fixation, would you, Dana?" Putting those dangerous thoughts out of her mind as best she could, she shifted slightly in her seat and wondered if there was any lady-like way of getting her pantyhose off as soon as possible. XxXxXxXxXxX Stealing a glance at his partner, Mulder looked fondly at the way the two pieces of hair that escaped her ponytail curled slightly into her face. It made her look more innocent. Younger. And the thin sheen of sweat that glowed off her skin just added to the appeal. He tried not to notice the cleavage she was showing. He really did. His thoughts were taking a dangerous turn down a road he'd strayed on much too often, and he fought desperately to get his mind back to places that were safe to travel. "I'm… " he started, fumbling a little with the words, "I'm sorry I snapped like that back there." Scully merely kept her eyes straight ahead of her and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "It's okay, Mulder." Silence took over, and Mulder turned his attention back to the road ahead of him. The flat, straight, you-could-drive-it-asleep-and-still-do-fine back road they were stuck on. His thoughts inevitably strayed to his partner again. He started chewing on the inside of his thumb-nail in a vain attempt to distract himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Scully shift up in her seat, and when he glanced in her direction, he nearly bit the tip of his finger off. She was leaning up against the seat, her back arched erotically, with her skirt shimmied so far up her leg that it left little to the imagination. She quickly looped her fingers on the inside of her hose and slid them quickly off of her legs, reassuming her normal position in the seat just as naturally as can be. The blood that had been boiling in his brain after the encounter with the sheriff not 25 minutes earlier went directly to his groin. "Whew," Scully said, as innocently as ever, "I don't think I've ever been this hot before." Mulder barely suppressed a groan. This unresolved sexual tension between them had to end soon, one way or the other, or Clyde Bruckman's projection would come true, and he *would* die of auto-erotic asphyxiation. Mulder took a deep breath and gave the car a little more gas. XxXxXxXxXxX Scully tried her best to ignore the smell of hot Mulder next to her, and leaned her head back against the head-rest, hoping to doze off for the remainder of the trip. She was almost there, when the car slowed down, and pulled off the side of the road, the gravel crunching beneath the tires. She blinked her eyes open and looked to Mulder, who was already staring fixedly back at her. "Mulder," she said, questioningly, "why are we stopped?" He didn't answer her, he only stuck his arm out in front of her face and pointed out her window. She tried to ignore the well endowed aforementioned forearm perfectly situated in her face, and followed his finger with her eyes. The only thing she could see was a small pond, surrounded by tall green weeds and cattails about thirty yards off of the road. She looked back at him again, "It's a pond." "Yep," he said, bringing his arm back down and undoing his seatbelt, "tell me, Agent Scully, have you ever been skinny dipping?" Scully gawked at him. "Mulder," she said, desperately trying to erase the plethora of tantalizing scenarios that had suddenly popped up in her mind, "it's—it's illegal." "Well," he said, opening his door and getting out, "you gonna arrest me? Or are you going to join me?" He shut his door and walked around to her side of the car and leered into her window, "OR, bring the handcuffs and we can do both." With that, he turned around and made off through the roadside weeds and toward the pond. He shed his T-shirt on the way, and already had his belt undone by the time he reached the pond. He non-callously shed the rest of his clothes, *all* of them, Scully couldn't help but notice, and dove into the water. The picture of his naked backside was permanently burned into her brain. Scully could barely hear his splash into the water over the blood roaring in her ears. She had two options. The first, would be to sit in the roasting car, undoubtedly suffer through the heat, and wait until he got back. Or, she could take him up on his offer and join him. She thought back to the sight of him just before he disappeared into the water, and opened the car door without a second thought. XxXxXxXxXxX What in the hell had he done? Mulder thought to himself as he slipped into the water. He'd just taken the biggest gamble of his life. He hoped to God it would pay off. He totally submerged himself in the clear, blue pond and swam underwater towards the other shore of the shallow pool. When he emerged, he could just see the rings of evidence spreading outward on the other side of the pond that proved his gamble had indeed paid off. More simultaneously relieved and turned-on than he had ever been in his life, Mulder paddled slowly towards the center of the pool and looked around in all directions for Scully to reemerge. He was starting to get worried when he heard the quiet ripple of parting water behind him and Scully's soft voice behind him. "Mulder," she said, as he turned towards her, a sudden shit-eating grin lightening his face, "I brought the cuffs," she said with a smirk, "they're on the shore. You want to get them? Or should I?" "Later," he whispered, moving his head down close to the water and moving in on her like a shark, "there's something I've got to do first. An activity I plan on making a staple of every out-of-town assignment from now on." And his lips captured hers in a kiss more searing than the hottest sun, shining down on the hottest day, in the hottest section of road in the Midwest. XxXxXxXxXxX Looking back, they determined that it had all began with a broken climate control knob. On that, and every road trip since, Special Agents Mulder and Scully have yet to receive back the safety deposit on any rental car. The End. So I chickened out on the smut… Sue me. XxXxXxXxXxX Visit my fanfic webpage! I'll be your best friend! http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Crater/3303/slippin.html Feed the Need. The X-Files FanFiction Addiction http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Keep/2355/ Hop on board. Join the fleet. The International Navy of Davey http://www/geocities.com/~the_inod/