Big House
By: D. Sidhe: Erika
Category: Slash, het, vignette
Pairings: A little of this, a little of that. Just read it. It's not that long.
Rating: PG, for slight innuendo. Everything's implied, nothing's explicit.
Disclaimers: I don't own any of these people. Fox owns them all, however tragic
and unfair that is. I don't own the title or summary, either. That's The Young
Fresh Fellows, who probably wouldn't mind my borrowing it too much, at least
I don't think so.
Archive: If you want it, you can probably have it, but please leave the notes
intact!
Spoilers: LGM: Maximum Byers.
Beta: Erynn looked it over and giggled in the right places. I appreciated this.
Author's Note: Dedicated to Amazon X, on her birthday.
Summary: They can make all the noise they want and I'll sleep just fine, 'cause it's a big house…
**
It's a Friday night, and we're a full house. Downstairs, Mulder has been arguing for hours about something, with some guy from the FBI Mulder brought along when he and Scully turned up to ask something.
Somewhere else downstairs, Yves is combing through our archives. She didn't say why, and she sure didn't say who her friend was, a short woman who's said exactly nothing since they got here five hours ago.
Spike Atherton is also downstairs, and with occasional shouts of delight, is rescuing cockroaches from our morgue, or rather is rescuing our morgue from all those nasty little paper-eating bugs. I know he plans to take them to his rescue clinic, but beyond that, I'm not asking.
In the kitchen, about a half hour ago, I heard Scully muttering at the amount of beer in our fridge, and demanding to know, and I don't know who she was talking to, or even if Mulder's making her crazy enough that she talks to herself now, why we haven't got any juice.
I could answer that. It's because Langly did the shopping last. He did it this morning, and he came home with junk food, and a talkative guy he called "Baron Battleaxe", and I'm not going to ask about that. They set up for a campaign, and we have another six guys in glasses with silly titles yelling at each other about orcs.
Kimmy is there too, mocking the gamers between rounds of some computer game where he has to shoot a bunch of guys in chain mail, with some sort of large gun. I don't even want to know why his character seems to be some woman in a leather bikini.
In a room three away from my own, Frohike is… entertaining… Brian Pendrell, and I didn't ask about that, either. Pendrell seemed worried when Scully and Mulder turned up, but it's not like anyone's seen him in four or five hours anyway, though Frohike surfaces occasionally for junk food for the two of them. We told Mulder and Scully Frohike was out, so I hope it's not him Scully's talking to in the kitchen.
If Pendrell was worried when Mulder and Scully showed up, he'd really freak if he knew that about an hour ago Skinner turned up, looking for his missing agents. I can't imagine Skinner would care, though. He and Mulder are shooting such scorching looks at each other that I'm almost positive I saw a gnat incinerate just from flying through the air between them.
Jimmy was downstairs trying to find out who Yves' friend was, and I guess Yves threatened him in some way, because he pelted upstairs, and has spent the last forty minutes or so sitting on the couch watching Nick At Nite with his hands over his crotch. I'm definitely not asking about that.
I noticed all this in passing, literally, after I finished with a little database-combing for Agents Doggett and Reyes. The two of them barely managed to keep their hands off each other, which I suppose was out of deference to me.
Now I'm headed for my own room, with glasses and a very good wine in hand. I've got special plans of my own for the night. Plans for the morning, too, though he'll sneak out early, if I know Alex Krycek.
-end-