Title: Nice Shoes
Author: Gibson
Rating: R for strong language
Category: MSR/ Humor
Date: Started 6/23/2003 finished 7/1/2003
Distribution: Ephemeral, Gossamer...any others, please
ask first, I'll most likely be flattered and send it to you
without hesitation :D.
Disclaimer: They ARE mine. Chris Carter took a small
sketch I wrote in grade school and stole it create The
X Files. Granted, he did add some of his own improvements
and ideas, but the basic idea was mine. I'm going to sue
him for every penny he's made on my characters. ;)
Feedback: I enjoy hearing all your comments, good, bad,
indifferent. Drop me a line at [email protected]
Author's Notes: If you believe my disclaimer, please email
me before you call Good Morning America ;). (psst. Little
secret, they really aren't mine ;)).
Dedication: This is for Sallie: our rock, our den mother,
and our direct line to the Almighty. Thank you for being
the most supportive, generous and genuine person I know.
Hugs.
Stay tuned for more notes at the end ;).
Click-clack, click-clack.
The dark-haired man looked up from the papers that he'd
been reading. Someone was coming. The nameplate resting
precariously on the end of the paper-covered desk read
Fox Mulder, Special Agent.
%^%^%^%^
The woman walking down the empty, poorly lit hall, her
three-inch heels making a distinctive click-clack sound,
was petite. Even if her frame was small, there was power
and assurance in the way that she carried herself. Her
was hair was coppery and collected what little light was
present in the hallway. In each hand, she held a steaming
cup.
Turning quickly, she walked through a door marked:
Fox Mulder
Special Agent
Without pausing, she turned to face the man at the desk.
"Morning Mulder"
The man at the desk smiled and replied, "Morning, Scully".
%^%^%^%^
What in the hell did Scully have on her feet? He'd heard
her as soon as she got off the elevator. Scully never
made that much noise. Mulder looked down and couldn't
help but notice Scully's apparently new shoes as he accepted
the coffee cup she held out to him.
Mulder couldn't believe that the three-inch, black
strappy shoes before him were on the feet of his partner.
These were what were classically referred to as "fuck me"
shoes and he'd never considered that his partner might even
own a pair.
With a grin he said, "Nice shoes, Scully. New?" and moved
onto the next order of business. "We've got a ten o'clock
meeting with Skinner to go over these reports" he gestured
vaguely towards his desk.
%^%^%^%^
Scully sat and watched as Mulder took in her new shoes. She'd
seen them on sale Sunday afternoon. She'd been looking for a
new pair of heels--a regular event. Working with Mulder was
hard on her shoes. She'd had more pairs ruined in the past 6
years than in the remainder of her life combined. Her shoes
had been submerged, shredded, broken, stained and generally
damaged. It wouldn't have been so bad if her partner wasn't
so damn tall. She not only had to find professional, comfortable
footwear in her size (hard enough when you were a size six:
retailers seem to believe all people that size six are 16 and
consequently, only wear the hippest new sandals), but she also
had to buy three-inch heels in order not to look like a child
next to Mulder.
Over the years, she'd begun to get a sense of which stores
would have the kind of shoes she needed. Nice, durable,
solid heeled shoes. Spike heels would be impossible as
well as impractical. Beyond the fact that she always felt
as though she teetered when she walked, she needed shoes
that had a good solid heel that would stay attached when
she went running after mutant, monster or Mulder. Plus,
she couldn't afford a damaged ankle.
Her very specific shoe needs dictated that she go shoe
shopping at least once a month. She went through, on
average, a pair a month, shopping regularly was the only
way to insure a regular supply of footwear. She'd even
been known to buy two or three pairs of the same shoes
at a time in order to insure she had them.
Sunday, she'd been in the mall and happened to glance
over a prom display. Normally she'd have moved on, but
the shoes at the center of the display had caught her
attention. Prom time was always a good time to find
dressier, sexier shoes because retailers knew that
even the small-footed girl needed a nice pair of
dancing shoes.
She'd gone in and picked up the shoes. They were
strappy: composed almost entirely of medium sized straps
that criss-crossed up the top of the foot. They were the
required height and the required thickness of heel, and
more importantly they were the right size. Glancing only
briefly at the twenty-two dollar price tag, Scully took
the shoes to the register.
It was only after she got home and examined her purchases,
two pairs each of black and blue heels plus the strappy
heels, that she began to wonder why she'd bought the sexy
shoes. At the time some fleeting image of dancing with a
tall-handsome man had persuaded her to plunk down her Visa
platinum, but it seemed that she'd been foolish. Why had
she bought going-out shoes when she never went out? Well,
except for Mulder, but they never really went out. Once
in a while they'd grab Chinese or Italian after work if
it was late, but they certainly never just for the kind of
entertainment that these shoes begged for.
She'd packed the shoes carefully back in the box and
placed the receipt in the bag. Placing the bag on the table,
she'd prepared herself to return the shoes. She had no reason
to wear them, she may as well return them so some young girl
could wear them to her prom.
Except she hadn't returned the shoes. Every morning as she
left for work and every evening when she returned, the
shoes sat on her table. Until this morning as she'd been
getting dressed. She'd reached out, pulled out the box and
opened it. The shoes were as beautiful and sexy as she'd
remembered. With a sigh she'd put them on with her shorter
black skirt and lower white blouse and nicer black jacket.
And then she'd decided, what the hell. They were working in
the office all day, finishing up expense reports, reimbursement
filing for Mulder's last medical mishap, and meeting with
Skinner. She wouldn't have to chase after anything or anyone
except the elusive medical claims representative who, rumors
said, got caller id expressly for the purpose of screening
calls from the X-Files Division. He'd been known to mutter
that they might have the highest solve rate, but they also
had the highest number of medical claims too.
So, with a smile she'd grabbed her coat and keys and left for
work.
"Scully, are you in there?"
A flesh colored blob flashed before her eyes.
Blinking she looked up, into Mulder's face.
"Oh, sorry, just thinking about something."
"Care to share with the rest of the class?" his lips twisted
into his signature "I can keep a secret" grin and his eyebrow
attempted to quirk.
"Just thinking about how we're going to start stalking Jim
Richards in Medical Claims if he doesn't return your calls
today. "
"You realize that stalking is against the law in all 50 states,
right?"
"Mulder, do you really want to be billed for $13,456.78
for your last hospital visit."
With that the grin left his face, "Er...no."
"Well then." This time it was her turn to grin and quirk an
eyebrow.
%^%^%^%^
Mulder looked down into Scully's grinning face. He knew she
hadn't zoned out on him to think about that prick in Medical
Claims whose grand plan was to avoid Mulder until the
reimbursement date expired on his claim and therefore
save the Bureau $13,456.78. However, he wasn't going to
push because she might realize that he hadn't been entirely
focused on today's agenda either.
It was those shoes. Those un-Scully shoes on Scully's feet.
He'd been telling her about today's meeting with Skinner,
but he'd still be thinking about those shoes. Then he
remembered a lunch he'd had with Agent Furlow a month or so
ago. They'd been sitting there shooting the breeze. Scully was
at Quantico teaching a seminar class for the afternoon and
Mulder had decided to have lunch in the cafeteria. Dan had
called him over and they'd had lunch together. Somewhere
between the meatloaf and the gravy with potatoes, Dan had
told Mulder about a game him and his buddies had played over
beer and a playoff game.
"Well, it's like this, women--they're all the time complaining
about our lame pick-up lines. 'Course, that doesn't stop 'em
from hookin' up with us. Anyway, my buddies and I were sitting
thinking of the worst lines we'd ever used that'd actually
worked."
Turns out that the winner had been a buddy of his, Brian,
who'd said his worst working line was "Nice shoes. Wanna fuck?"
Mulder had been staring at Scully's feet in those strappy
contraptions wondering if she'd ever heard that line, and more
importantly, if it would work.
It was that last thought that had snapped him out of his
reverie only to notice that Scully wasn't paying any attention
either. He wasn't a shoe-man; he didn't have a foot fetish,
so why in the world was he obsessing over these shoes?
After calling her name twice, he gave up and went over to her,
passing his hand in front of her face and finally pulling her
out of her daze.
%^%^%^%^
A tall man, his hair tousled and his jacket only just shrugged
on, Special Agent Fox Mulder enters the hallway and stands
aside for his red-haired partner to precede him into the hall.
Turning, he shuts and locks the door, remarkable only because
he checks the lock twice. Striding next to his partner, he places
his hand familiarly in the small of her back, an action so smooth
and graceful that it must be routine. Their paces are perfectly
matched, noteworthy because of the still formidable height
difference despite the heels on Special Agent Dana Scully.
These two have been together a long time, their comfort with
each other, the ease of modification for the height or
exuberance of another, the way that they project an air of
"two against the world," these two are truly connected.
%^%^%^%^
"Have a seat Agents," said Skinner as they enter his office.
"Do you have the report from the last case?"
"Yes Sir," said Scully, crossing her ankles and inadvertently
drawing Mulder's attention.
Skinner flipped through the pages in the manila folder,
noting the pertinent facts: suspect was the owner of a tap
dancing boxer, victim was the owner of a pedigree, pom-pom
toting poodle, Mulder was hospitalized from injuries sustained
due to interference by said boxer when attempting to apprehend
suspect. Mulder was subsequently thrown headfirst down three
flights of stairs. Injuries sustained were: multiple lacerations
incurred by the fall, one sprained ankle administered by Bronxie
the boxer's leash, his 32nd concussion sustained when his
admittedly hard head hit the second floor landing, one fairly
serious dog bite bestowed by Bronxie as Mulder attempted to
regain his feet and one pair of forty dollar high-heeled shoes
owned by Special Agent D. Scully, ruined by Bronxie when she
attempted to assist one Special Agent F. Mulder.
%^%^%^%^
Skinner was still digesting the casualty list when Mulder saw
them. Admittedly, he had seen them before at a post-case pizza
and movie, at a 1 A.M. pajama-clad conference in a hotel room,
but never before at work. And never like this.
Scully's toes were visible through her sheer-toed hose, peeking
out at him through the straps of those incredibly inappropriate
shoes. She should know better than to wear shoes like that at
work, why, you never know what someone might say. Perhaps he
should warn her, he knew how much she valued her reputation.
Wait a minute, these were just shoes. Granted, they were sexy
shoes, but they were only shoes. He was losing his mind, but
it wasn't his fault, it was the polish.
Scully had painted her toenails a slightly darker coral. Normally,
he wouldn't even have noticed, especially with hose on, but those
shoes were drawing attention to her feet and it was those toes
that had caught his attention. They were small, cute, and
perfectly proportioned, all in all, Scully had very nice feet,
which he'd known, somewhere, in the back of his mind, but this
was the first time he'd even considered the existence of her
feet at work.
Pulling his attention back to the room, he heard Skinner
addressing Scully.
%^%^%^%^
"It says here that the Bureau is to reimburse you for a pair
of shoes. What exactly happened to them Agent Scully?"
"Sir, as I checked Agent Mulder's vitals and removed the dog
from his thigh, it turned on me and urinated on my right foot.
After I discerned the extent of both his probable and visible
injuries, I attempted to assist him into a sitting position as
the stairs were still in use. At that time, the dog, Bronxie,
attacked my left foot, damaging the shoe and in fact he was
able to remove it from my foot whereupon he immediately began
to destroy it."
"I see," said a rather bemused Skinner. "Agent Mulder, this
report seems fairly straightforward, is there anything you
feel needs clarification?"
Snapping his head up, Mulder paused to consider the question.
"No Sir, I think that the report is fairly clear."
"Well then Agents, may I suggest that you both enjoy your
weekends and try to stay in the Hoover Building for the next
couple of weeks. The case handler assigned to the X Files
Division over in Medical Claims is threatening to quit if he
gets one more claim this month." With a grin, Skinner closed
the file and ushered the Agents out of his office.
Sitting back down at his desk, he wondered if Scully had any
idea what her shoes were doing to Agent Mulder.
%^%^%^%^
"Scully," Mulder said as they entered the empty elevator, "I've
got to run a couple of errands during lunch. I'll catch you later"
Then, as the elevator door pinged and began to open, he remembered
Dan's buddy. As he walked off the elevator he added, "oh, and
Scully, I just wanted to say again, those are 'nice shoes'."
With a grin and a wink he walked away, cherishing the sight
of Scully's bemused face as the elevator doors closed.
%^%^%^%^
Nice shoes.
What was that supposed to mean? Obviously Mulder thought it
should have some significance or he wouldn't have winked when
he said. What could he have possibly meant? Did he think her
shoes were inappropriate? Was he actually trying to compliment
her? Was there some joke she just didn't get?
Scully puzzled as she ate her cheeseburger. She'd decided
that today was going to be a day of treats: a nice juicy
cheeseburger, thick greasy French fries and sexy shoes.
Convinced that if Mulder had really meant something by the
comment he would have clarified, Scully enjoyed her sandwich
and walked back to their office.
%^%^%^%^
~Two Weeks Later~
~ Bill's Best Barbecue~
~Samtil, Virgina~
The man matches his considerably longer stride to that of the
woman and still manages to gracefully reach and open the door
before her. He is the same man who was bent so industriously
over papers a mere two weeks ago. She is the woman with the
burnished hair who so strode so confidently through the halls
and brought him coffee.
Today however, they both look the worse for wear. The man
is considerably more disheveled than we last saw him. His jacket
and tie are both gone and it appears as though his pants are
going to need to be replaced. Today he towers over his partner,
almost a foot taller than her in her white Nike sneakers. Her
hair is mussed, her blouse has unidentifiable stains and she's
lost her preferred footwear somewhere, resorting to tennis shoes
that reveal their true disparity in size.
They've come here for barbecue and it looks as though they've
already had a daunting day.
%^%^%^%^
Carefully Scully eased herself down onto the toilet seat,
contemplating her white Nike's. Or perhaps that should be
formerly white Nike's. When the heel had broken off her black
heels, she'd known she was out of luck. The blue pumps were
still encrusted with mud from the day before and looked as
though they might be going to the garbage. There wasn't
anywhere in this tiny town that carried dressy shoes in
her size, which only left her workout Nike's. Three years old
and comfortable, they certainly weren't going to set a new
trend in business casual. Nor would her muddy, bloody dress
shirt, she thought looking down.
%^%^
"Janet, how'd last night go?"
"Well, we went into Gomery to go to a club, Katie and me, when
we got there, this cute city-boy came up to me and you'll never
guess what he said!"
"What? Tell Me!'
"Well, he looked down at my favorite black sandals and said
'nice shoes, wanna..."
"He didn't! I hope you told him were he could take his offer."
"Well, I told him where I came from nice boys didn't talk to
girls like that, and he told me he weren't no nice boy."
"Oh my!"
%^%^
Scully looked up from her shoes, catching the conversation of
the two teenagers who'd just entered the bathroom. Something
the girl had just said jogged her memory. Something that Mulder
had said...something a couple of weeks ago...when she was wearing
those new shoes...what was it?
Suddenly, Mulder's grin popped into her face and she saw him
wink and say 'oh, and Scully, I just wanted to say again, those
are nice shoes.'
The memory came flooding back and blood rushed into her face.
Nice shoes, eh?
With a grin of her own she eased out of the stall and over to
the sink. Damn mud monster.
%^%^%^%^
Mulder looked up as Scully came toward the table. He ached, his
whole body hurt, but at least he didn't look as bedraggled as
Scully.
The local legend about Mud Monsters had been true. 'Course when
you're living in an area with potholes the size of some states,
there's no wonder something decides to make one of them home.
The creature, whatever it was, was dead now, though it nearly
took them with it. The lab would be running tests right now and
he and Scully would have to file a report on Monday, but for
now they could enjoy some of Bill's fine cooking , buy some
aspirin and get to bed early.
Scully sat down and she had the most peculiar look on her face,
as though she'd just found out a secret and didn't want to share.
"What's up Scully?"
"Oh, nothing. Just something I heard in the ladies room, girl
talk. You wouldn't be interested."
He was as game as the next guy to pull the information out of
her, but something about the combination of 'ladies room' and
'girl talk' convinced him that he probably didn't want to know.
"Oh, okay, well, I went ahead and ordered. They've really only
got one thing on the menu."
%^%^%^%^
As she listened to Mulder, Scully wondered what she should do
with her new found information. How could she put it to maximum
use?
She pondered this as she ate her way through a mammoth sized
barbecue sandwich and an equally large serving of chips and
two Diet Pepsi's.
She made the appropriate replies to Mulder's comments
conversation was minimal. They were both too busy trying
to eat. She considered her various options.
As Mulder paid the check, it occurred to her what she could
do.
%^%^%^%^
Mulder was reconsidering his decision not to question Scully
on the bathroom incident. She'd been pretty quiet all through
dinner and he could see that she was working out something in
her mind. She seemed engrossed in whatever it was. Since their
case was finished, it must have something to do with whatever
she heard in the bathroom.
He pulled up to the motel and parked. He turned to ask Scully
if he could do something to help, when she got out of the car.
%^%^%^%^
Mulder was beginning to suspect something. She could tell by
the glances he kept throwing at her as he drove the six blocks
from 'the best restaurant in town' to 'the best motel in town'.
She got out of the car as soon as he parked and began to walk
towards their rooms.
"I don't know about you Mulder, but I'm tired. I think I'm
going to take some Tylenol and head to bed. You should
probably do the same; I can tell you're beginning to feel stiff."
%^%^%^%^
Mulder looked at her and decided to let it go. Obviously
she didn't want to talk about it.
"Okay, he said. 'Night Scully see you in the morning," and
he put the key in the door to his room.
As he opened the door he heard Scully say, "Oh, and Mulder,
I just wanted to say, nice Shoes."
With a grin she went into her room and locked the door.
Leaving him to wonder if she knew what effect her words had
just had on him.
THE END
The author babbles on:
First, as many of you know, it's practically impossible to
share a piece of writing with the fandom if you don't have
a kick-ass beta. For this story I had THREE. Don't ask me
what I did to deserve that good fortune, but I'd like to
thank Ilke, Carrie and Lorraine for some seriously wonderful
suggestions. Your suggestions greatly improved this little
fic o' mine.
Seafarers: There was a discussion about introducing M+S as
characters. I tried to do a little of that in this piece.
Thanks for always stimulating me.
The XF Lost and Found Board has my eternal gratitude for
answering a continuity question. . .twice! Thanks.
I chose 6 for Scully based on my own weight and foot
measurements. She could probably be anything from a 6-7
depending on the shoes, but I needed the smaller size for
my own entertainment ;).