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June 27, 2005
A Fictional Attempt To Resolve the UST*
ana Scully sighed and looked up at the clock. 1:30 AM. It was that time when Tuesday night has finally turned into Wednesday morning. Ever since the FBI budged had temporarily been slashed, Scully hated Tuesdays, sinced that was the day of the week when she not only chased aliens while she played the part of Mulder's partner, but she also spent the evening undercover as a phone-sex operator. Thankfully though, this was her last evening as "Kiki," the hot up-all-night girl. The case she was working on had finally been resolved, as she'd gotten a call on her cell phone from Skinner a few hours ago with this news.
"Of all undercover assignments to get stuck with," Scully sighed, "Only posing as a prostitute would hav ebeen worse." She grabbed her half-finished can of Pringles and Evian water, rumpled her red pigtails, and threw on her jacket to cover the tiny T-shirt and yoga pants. "At least I didn't have to dress up for this, like a high-class call girl does," but damn, she muttered, "After several hours of sex talk, even knowing that I am talking to some truly screwed up individuals fails to keep me from getting heated up." She thanked the FBI gods that she could at least sleep in a bit tomorrow, as she was fairly certain that Mulder had gone to his usual "movie" that night. Scully suspected that his cover was partially true at least, for she'd seen his eyebrows raise when they drove past that seedy theatre with the marquee that read 6 PM and 11 PM - A DECADE OF DIRTY DELINQUENTS.
As she grabbed her bag, Scully snickered to herself, knowing that Mulder would just faint if he knew what she'd been doing tonight. With his oh-so-obvious habit of calling 900 numbers, Scully had bitten her lips many times that day to keep from flaunting her Tuesday night adventures to him. Finally though, these evenings of helping literal strangers gain sexual relief in a most unnatural way were over. Now, the only time she woul dhave to be reminded about the existence of phone sex would be whenever she checked Mulder's answering machine.
Scully laughed aloud at the memory of the first time she had heard one of those messages from Chantal, calling from Desires-On-Hold to remind Mulder's alter ego Marty that, as a highly-valued customer, he could take advantage of their special weekend rates of forty cents per minute. Scully had not been able to stop herself from meeting Mulder's awkward gaze, through her initial shock that Mulder could possibly have sexual desires. He had covered his discomfort with a fib that only served to further incriminate him.
"Whatever video you found in that machine, it isn't mine." Even through his dead-pan stare, Mulder couldn't hide the sheepishness within his voice. Senseing that playing along would smooth the situation over if anything possibly could, she carelessly glossed over his words. "Good, because I put it back in the drawer with all those other videos that aren't yours."
Now, realizing once again that she was standing in a phone sex hotline room, Scully decided that going home and soaking in a bedtime bath sounded great. After standing a few more moments giggling girlishly and feeling a bit aroused herself, Scully snapped out of her daydream and stuck her copy of the latest FBI journal inside, along with a couple of Mulder's paperback "smut-trash books." These provided outstanding dialogue during crucial phone sex moments when her mind ran blank. She had swiped these from Mulder's apartment the last time they stopped for lunch, and Scully knew from his impressive pornographic library that he'd never notice he was missing two of his Black Lace paperbacks. "I wonder how many times he's read these," she smirked bemusedly, "OH...what if he read them while he..." Scully's voice trailed off and her green eyes widened curiously.
Just then, the phone rang mutely as a red light flashed on the switchboard. "Who the heck calls for phone sex at two in the morning?" Scully felt a mixture of irritation and incredulity bubbling at the back of her throat. "I really don't want to take that call," she thought through her fatigue. Somehow though, perhaps because she had been thinking dirty thoughts herself, she couldn't stop herself. "OH, why not," she smirked, "I can just pretend it's someone cute, Keanu Reeves perhaps..." thinking of one in particular that she had taken some personal training sessions from. Scully cleared her throat in preparation to slowly seduce this pervert over the phone with a cool, sultry voice. Five minutes, tops.
Scully sat herself down in the swiveled chair and glanced at the switchboard, which was still flashing. "Ten rings - this guy must be pretty desperate." She grabbed the receiver and picked it up, careful to turn on the whispery, slightly scratchy tone she's been using for hours. "Hello," Scully purred, "This is Kiki. Who is this?" A brief pause ensued, then a sardonically sexy voice spoke, "This is Marty."
Scully almost dropped the phone. The voice on her end may have been disguised, but she knew the voice on the other end of the wire all too well. That voice belonged to Agent Fox Mulder.
*UST is short for Unresolved Sexual Tension, of course. The characters of Mulder and Scully are the respective property of Chris Carter, and all resemblances are PURELY COINCIDENTAL. TO BE CONTINUED HERE...
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Posted by witnit at June 27, 2005 9:00 PM
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