Disclaimer: Yeah I own these guys. I stole them. How do ya like that, Chris?

...sigh (c) CC, 1013, blahblahbla.


Monica Reyes was in the middle of piles of laundry when the doorbell rang. Growling at the idea of putting down the load she was carrying just to answer the door, she yelled "Come in!" and just hoped it wasn't someone unpleasant.

Hearing the muffled growl and slightly exasperated tone of voice she used, John Doggett wondered if this was a good day to drop in on her after all. Shrugging, he opened the door anyway and walked in.

"Monica? It's me…" He called, looking around the room as if she might be hiding behind the couch or something. Hey, it was Monica, one never knew.

Relieved at knowing it was only John, she yelled back that she was in the laundry room without looking up from her work. He slowly made his way back there, leaning in the doorway and grinning at the sight of her. She was wearing a baggy red t-shirt and black sweatpants, and looked as if she hadn't bothered combing her hair that morning. He noted to himself that her disheveledness only made her look hotter.

"John?" she cocked her head slightly, waving her hand in his direction. "Helloooo…"

Snapping out of his momentary trance, he glanced around the room. " Jeez Mon, is it really that hard to afford soap in between paychecks?"

She rolled her eyes, turning back to the task at hand. "You're not funny, John. We were out of town on that last case for so long I just got behind…"

"Sure ya did." She could hear the grin in his tone as he started across the room towards her. She heard his feet scuffle slightly, and a quiet curse as he caught himself just in time.

Giggling, she didn't bother turning around. "Serves you right for making fun of me."

He grumbled softly, reaching down to pick up the item he had tripped over. "Yeah, whatever. At least I can keep my laundry room cle-"

He stopped mid-sentence to stare at what he had just picked up. Curious at his abrupt silence, Monica turned around to see him holding up her bright pink satin and black lace thong.

"JOHN JAY DOGGETT!" She screamed, practically flying across the room to reclaim her undies, blushing furiously and hiding them behind her back as if it would make them disappear. Much to her dismay, he started laughing.

"How come you never wear those for me?"

She was appalled at his question and didn't hesitate to express it. "What business is that of yours? And I'll have you know I wear perfectly conservative underwear! These were a gag gift from my sister-" she ranted, now waving the thong in the air vehemently.

He laughed harder. "You know Monica, you're a very good agent, but a horrible liar. You don't even have a sister…"

She instantly regretted ever telling him about her family. "I mean my, uh, best friend… we're so close we refer to each other as sisters and-"

"Yeah, except for the fact that you lost touch with all your friends after high school."

She instantly regretted ever talking to him in the first place.

"Give it up Mon, it's alright… we all have our quirks." He wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

"DAMMIT JOHN MY PANTIES ARE PERFECTLY NORMAL!" she seemed on the verge of hyperventilation by now, and was blushing way more than was probably healthy.

"Oh yeah?" He said. "Prove it."

She paused for a second, as if not quite sure what to do. If it was even possible, her blush intensified further. Suddenly, she whipped off her sweatpants and shirt, throwing them off to the side before crossing her arms and glaring at John. "Happy now?"

She was wearing a simple black bra with a slight flowery pattern, and black bikini-style panties with a batman symbol on them.

He just stared. And stared, and stared, and staaared.

She was beginning to think her actions had somehow broken his little brain when a smirk crossed his face again. "So, superhero undies count as conservative?"

She growled again and smacked him with the thong. He found this rather amusing. Abruptly, the doorbell rang, interrupting their, uh, conversation. John began walking in the direction of the door. Grinning over his shoulder at Monica, he said, "I'll get it. Tell whoever it is that you're busy, and…"

She leapt across the floor again, catching up with him right as he reached the door. "Oh no you don't you…" She grabbed the handle right before he could touch it, yanking the door open.

Dana Scully was standing there.

John and Monica just stared.

Scully raised her eyebrow as she always did in these kinds of situations, and was about to say she'd come back at a better time, when she noticed what Monica was holding. Evidently, she still hadn't put down that infamous thong.

"Oh, there you are!" Her expression brightened as she reached out to snag the thong out of Monica's hand. "Knew I left it here… Oh Moni, your, uh, thing, it's still at my house. Come by and pick it up later, 'kay? Seeya!" She smirked, turned, and sort of bounced down the steps to her car.

John and Monica stared speechlessly, each for their own reasons, in the direction their partner's car had disappeared. A kid on a bike rode by across the street and yelled, "Get a room!" Monica looked up at John, narrowing her eyes and growling huffily.

"This is your fault, you know."

John looked down at her in a feeble attempt to muffle his laugh.

"Always is, isn't it?"

With that, he grabbed her arm and grinned, pulling her back inside.