Firecracker Scully

By Jeannine Ackerson

6/27/97

Rating: R for *suggestive* situations.

Disclaimer: The X-Files belong to Mr. Carter and they don't belong to me.

Relationship: MSR - as if I like writing anything else?!?

Summary: Scully sets up a surprise of her own for Mulder and the fourth.

Hi All! Well, I read "Little Bunny Mulder" by Deb Prewitt a while back and just about died. It was just so funny, and I started to wonder what they'd end up doing for the fourth of July. <eg> Anyway, Deb gave this her blessing, so please assume that this is a "sequel" of sorts to that. Now, on to the show...

As the July 4th holiday began to approach, Mulder had begun to get nervous. After Easter, and the 'treat' he'd devised for Dana, and himself he had to add, he knew that she was more than likely to get him back.

Not like he *wasn't* looking forward to every delicious moment, but the fact was that he still didn't know how devious his lover was. Dana Scully was, when provoked a dangerous enemy to have. And somehow he got the feeling that after his little 'surprise', that he was in for it.

But good.

Of course if she decided to turn the sexual game tables on him, who was he to not play them?

Just the idea sent thoughts of Scully in a bathtub full of berry blue Jell-O and strains of the 1812 overture running through his brain. Or Scully covered by a red and blue teddy, with white lace accents. Or maybe with watermelon flavored underwear. . .

Oh yes, he *definitely* wanted to see what his usually straight laced partner and lover was going to have in mind for him.

Once he cooled down and regained his energy that was.

The truth was that right now, coming in from a long day of sweltering heat and paperwork, he wasn't much in the mood for anything. The fact that his suit was crumpled around him and his suit shirt was sticking to him in places didn't help his enthusiasm either. Plus, to top things off the air conditioning in his car had broken and he had had to roll down the windows in order to stay alive as he drove home.

All in all, he didn't feel much like a happy camper.

That was until he walked all the way into his apartment to see the yellow post-it note stuck on his desktop computer screen. With a surprised little grin, he reached out and ripped it loose from the glass.

"Happy fourth *Fox*" read the note in Scully's usual, precise writing. "So why don't you check your messages while you hang up your jacket."

A little smile tugged at his mouth. Obviously the game was underway and Scully was playing by *his* rules. And he liked his rules.

As he hit the button on the answering machine, he rested his jacket onto the chair, still feeling like he'd been baking in an oven since the sun had risen that morning. If there was anything he hated worse than losing the evidence on every important case, it was D.C. in summer.

There was a squelch, and he then heard Scully's concise voice ring through the apartment.

"To start the holiday right, I felt it necessary to celebrate in a big, colorful way. So why don't you lose that horribly tacky tie, and that sticky shirt and go looking for something by the front door that will make the earth move."

Okay, what was that all about, he wondered as he stood there, looking at the number 1 sitting in the digital read of the message box. Something to make the earth move?

He sighed as he turned for the door, then he remembered her request to loose his tie and shirt. With skilled fingers he whipped off the 'offending' neck wear. Then he undid several buttons of his shirt before just reaching down, tugging the shirt tails out of his pants and pulled the shirt up and off. It made an unceremonious flop to the floor.

Now then, back to my search, he thought.

As he walked back to the front door, he found the holiday appropriate item he was searching for: a red hollow firecracker with tinsel sparks coming out of the top of it. Picking it up, he carefully examined the cardboard tube, finally finding a pull-tab at the top rim. With a tug, he had the top off, and he upturned the cylinder, scattering a multitude of red, while and blue condoms to the floor.

Oh Scully, he thought wickedly as he reached down and scooped up a handful of the latex items, you certainly have a deliciously wicked sense of what makes the earth move.

Then he noted on the bottom of the cylinder another sticky note in her hand.

"Hold onto these. You might need them. But until then, why don't you cool off in the fridge?"

Taking it to assume that the note was pointing him in the direction of his kitchen, he wandered over, one hand still occupied with the firecracker.

When he opened his refrigerator door, he found a cooler with another note on it. He tipped the top back to find two bottles of iced tea inside. A slight twinge of fondness ran through him at the sweet memory the tea brought back. Obviously she remembers too, he thought with a wash of love and longing.

As he looked closer though, he found the real devious item intended for their mutual enjoyment. The whole bottom of the cooler was full of ice cubes. Wet, melting, icy ice cubes. And he decided that cooling him off was not quite what she had in mind for him.

With the change in atmosphere, the note slipped off the cooler, and he had to chase it down as it attempted to escape under the no-man's land of his refrigerator. Luckily he was quicker than the wayward paper, and he snatched the note up and brought it up for his examination.

Again Scully's words rang in his head in her voice.

"Now that we have a bit of nostalgic refreshment, let's go get comfy. What'dya say? Anyone for being a couch potato?"

He couldn't help smiling at the tone of her note. The wait was just adding to his current state of discomfort, and he knew it wasn't over yet. That woman was going to be the death of him. But what a way to go, he thought with a wolfish grin.

Obviously the next location for his holiday 'hunt' was his couch. After awkwardly picking up both the firecracker tube and the cooler, he headed to his couch. It took him about two minutes to look all over the piece of leather covered furniture before he found the small square box stuffed under one of the cushions.

Tugging it loose, he noticed the message written on the box lid in red felt pen.

"Why don't you try these on for size and head for 'home'. But make sure you stop and check the 'lights'."

With that, he popped open the top and removed a red and white stripped men's g-string. Evidently she was into the holiday theme whole-heartedly.

Scully, he thought humorously as he held the minuscule item in front of him to look at it better, you've seriously underestimated what you do to me if you think I'll fit into this.

But after he divested himself of all his clothes and slipped on the underwear, he realized it did stretch quite a bit more than he'd thought. Thank God for Lycra.

The last part of his treasure hunt was still to go, and he gathered up his things and headed straight for what now was the most lived in part of his apartment since he and Scully had crossed the line: his bedroom.

He was just about to open the door, his hand turning the knob when his foot hit something in front of the doorway. Remembering that she had one last trick up her sleeve, he looked down. Laying on the floor were a pack of matches and a box of sparklers. Picking up the sparklers, he read the note attached.

"Light a sparkler, turn off the lights and come on in."

It took him a minute to remove one of the metal sparklers from the box, and even longer to pull a match from the book and strike it. The anticipation of finding Scully on the other side of the door was making it hard for him to keep his hands still. Then there was the fact that all the blood had made its way from his brain to parts further south.

Once he had the item lit, he made his way to the light switch. With a quick flick, he had the lights off. Standing in his apartment, Mulder noted that the light of the spitting sparkler only lit up the immediate area around him. Carefully he navigated his way back to the bedroom door. After retrieving all of his goodies, he turned the doorknob.

Finally he pushed open the door of the bedroom to see a dozen or more sparklers set up all around the room, all blazing, though a bit lower than his own.

And laying in the center of his bed was Dana Scully. Covered only by an American Flag. The grin that was splitting his face turned leer as he wondered if she had anything on underneath the flag.

"You have a twisted sense of patriotism Agent Scully," he said huskily as he moved to the bed, sitting carefully, setting down his hoard as he held the sparkler away from him.

"Why would you say that?" she remarked with an almost shocked tone.

She pointed to a glass of water by the bed, and he pulled his eyes away from her long enough to see what she was gesturing to, and doused the sparkler in the glass, then returned his attention to his lover.

"Defacing Old Glory here isn't exactly procedure. And I doubt that your military background raised you to think of our national symbol as bed clothes," he remarked sarcastically.

"Oh, *this*," she said calmly as she brushed a seductive hand over the fabric covering her. "I figured for once I'd like to have you salute me."

"But I'm already standing at attention here Dana," he replied with the slightest blush, even if he didn't really feel embarrassed by the idea.

She looked him over again, as if to verify that he was there, and that he meant what he said. Realizing that his words were *more* than correct, she gave him another wicked grin.

"So, red, white or blue Fox?" she asked seductively, pulling him down to her and kissing his ear.

"Oh, let's start with the red, and work our way through," he suggested, as his hand went towards the top of the flag covering her. . .

"And by the way," she whispered as the cloth covering her rasped across her body, "Happy fourth of July."

-End-

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