TITLE: MRS. ROBINSON AND ME
AUTHOR: Kiki Cabou
FEEDBACK: Beyond price. Kindly R/R or send it to kcabou@hotmail.com.
SUMMARY: This little story featuring Mulder, Scully, Doggett, and Reyes has bad dancing, worse singing, and an act of accidental lesbianism. You have been warned.
SPOILERS: Detour. I think that's it.
NOTES: Since our heroes have gone away, and the finale was just so --- Ugh, don't get me started --- I figured everybody could use a laugh. Hopefully, this fits the bill. It takes place in an imaginary Season 9 where there's no threat to anybody. Mulder and Scully have William and are "living in sin." They're both teaching at Quantico, Psychology and Pathology respectively. Reyes and Doggett are "officially" on the X-files.
CATEGORY: Vignette/Humor/Romance(?)
RATING: PG-13, for a few spurts of seriously bad language.
ARCHIVE: Anywhere. Just let me know.
MY DEEPEST APOLOGIES TO: Celine Dion, whoever wrote "The Hokey Pokey," Three Dog Night, and Simon and Garfunkel.
DISCLAIMER: I own nobody from the X-files. The only person in this who's mine is Bob. But if you say "please," you can borrow him. :D
On with the show. :D
*** *** *** *** *** *** ***
MRS. ROBINSON AND ME
*** *** *** *** *** *** ***
FIFTH AVENUE
QUANTICO, V.A.
MARCH
1 PM
"Hey! Stop!" Mulder yelled, winded.
He was sprinting after a citizen who apparently thought he'd done something wrong. The man he was pursuing, a slim, thoroughly ordinary-looking blond guy in a wool sweater and dress slacks, gave a frightened look over his shoulder, but kept running.
Mulder was getting pissed. Catching criminals wasn't even his job anymore, and it was supposed to be his lunch break, between Psychology classes at Quantico. But he saw relief in sight as he ran, and continued to call attention to the chase by yelling various forms of "stop" at intervals.
The man didn't stop. He kept running, right past an alley, when someone else hurtled out of it and tackled him on the sidewalk. Mulder jogged to a halt to see Agent John Doggett pulling out the handcuffs, practically sitting on the man who had been trying to run.
"Thanks for taking the shortcut," Mulder wheezed. "I couldn't have caught him."
"Just glad I was here," Doggett muttered, and cursed, because the guy he was attempting to cuff was slippery. "Now what the hell did you run for?" he asked.
The man on the sidewalk didn't answer --- he merely sighed. Doggett helped him up, and Mulder glared at him a little.
"Sir. For the last time, since you apparently didn't hear all the other things I shouted at you. The city thanks you for saving the life of that woman back there, who was almost mugged. You did a brave thing, fending off that guy with the gun. You made it very easy for Agent Reyes to apprehend him."
The man, instead of acknowledging the compliments, stared unhappily at his shoes. Doggett tried to catch his eye.
"Sir?" he asked.
The man licked his lips, then finally stared at both of his captors. "I just wanted to help that woman. But I can't be seen," he said, in a quiet, quivering voice. "That's why I ran."
"Can't be seen? What are you, like, Witness Protection, or something?" Doggett asked.
The man looked at his shoes again. Doggett looked annoyed, but Mulder realized there was something else going on here.
"Hey, Doggett, did you ever get that package to Scully?"
"Yeah. I dropped it off before Monica and I went to meet you."
"Okay." He turned to the handcuffed man. "Sir, would you come with us? I know a private place where we can talk. Would that be all right?"
At this, finally, the man looked less depressed. He nodded. Doggett reached for his handcuff key.
"All right. I'ma set you free. Just don't run, okay?"
The man nodded. Doggett unlocked the cuffs and motioned to his car, parked across the street. The man didn't see that motion, since he was looking down and rubbing his wrists, but turned, and took off straight for the vehicle anyway. Mulder and Doggett exchanged a look and followed him to the car.
"Careful," Mulder murmured at the other man, who nodded.
"Let's take him to the police station," Doggett said quietly.
"No, I know a place that's better. The PTA at Quantico. It's spacious and comfortable, and private. He should be okay to talk to us there."
"About what?"
Mulder shrugged. Doggett rolled his eyes. All three of them piled into the sedan and Doggett called Reyes, telling her where to meet them. Mulder called Scully.
***
In a few minutes, Doggett, Mulder, Scully, Reyes, and the mysterious man they'd caught were all ensconced in a meeting room in the basement of Quantico, next to the actual Psychological Testing Arena (PTA).
Scully, leaning back in her chair, regarded the man across the table from her, and asked the first question.
"May I ask your name, sir?"
"Oh, sure," he replied kindly. "Robert Elias Parker. Most people call me Eli. I don't really like that, though."
"You prefer Robert?" Doggett asked.
"Um, well, actually, I prefer 'The Notorious B.O.B.'," he said, completely serious.
There was a pause as everybody stared back and forth between each other and the rather studious-looking, well-mannered man across the table from them.
"Or Bob, if you like," he finished.
And it just got weirder.
They asked a few more questions, with Bob filling them in on how he came to help the woman. It seemed that this was more than a case of a man being in the right place at the right time and knowing what to do. Mulder finally hit the nail on the head. (As usual.)
"So what you're saying is that you didn't have a *picture* of the attack happening before it happened, so much as you *heard the thoughts* of the mugger. Is that what you're trying to say?"
Bob seemed to perk up at this explanation and nodded emphatically.
"I see. Can you wait here for a minute? We'll all be right back."
He motioned to everybody and they all stepped out of the conference room, closing the door behind them.
"What do you guys think?" he asked. "Personally, I believe him."
"Mulder, in case you've forgotten, you believe everything," Doggett said.
Scully glared at him.
"What?!" he said defensively. "I mean, c'mon. This guy could be makin' this stuff up as he goes along."
"Or, he could be telling the truth," Reyes argued.
"Well, there's only one way to find out," Scully said. "Let's do a test. We'll each go in there, and ask him to tell us what's on our minds. If he can do it, then we'll see what else he's capable of."
They all agreed, some more enthusiastically than others, and went back in. Bob looked up at them politely. They all had their FBI faces on, making it impossible to read anything from their expressions.
"Okay, Bob," Mulder said, as they all sat down. "Your story is interesting, but in order to really make sense of it, we need a little proof. All you have to do, as a test, is tell each of us what's on our minds right now. Go."
"All right," Bob said amiably, and started from his left. "Agent Doggett. You think I'm an idiot, and a liar. You're hungry, and want to go home, even though it's hardly the afternoon. Your tie is itching you, and you're tired, but you can tolerate that because you're looking forward to ripping it off and taking a nap when you get in, and then seeing a movie tonight with Agent Reyes. You're hoping she'll pick a nice foreign film with no audience, that you don't care about, so you two can make out in the back of the movie theater in relative privacy."
Doggett had lost his blank expression and was now blinking at him, slack- jawed.
"Sir, a closed mouth gathers no flies."
Doggett shut his mouth, but kept staring. Reyes, on the other end of the table, puffed herself up and pursed her lips a bit. Bob turned to her.
"And Agent Reyes, under that mask of indignation, you can't believe Doggett was thinking something so tame, because quite frankly, you wouldn't mind skipping the movie and just having sex with him. But you really like Thai food, and you're thinking you should both have some of that first, before you get down to business. Frankly, I wouldn't recommend it. The ubiquitous bean sprouts will leave you both gassy and bloated, and that's no way to make love. You're smart, but not terribly good at thinking ahead. That was just a personal observation.
Anyway. Thai food reminds you of the first time you went out with John and had dinner. He really impressed you as not only a physically desirable man, but as a good person, and you always look forward to any kind of non- professional outing with him."
Reyes had stopped looking affronted a while ago, and was now looking kind of sick.
"Y-You can see all that?" she stuttered.
Bob smiled.
"You two have made out in the Hoover building exactly 12 times, once even in ---"
"NO!" Doggett and Reyes yelled at once. "Shut up!/That's enough!"
Mulder and Scully were starting to smile. Bob quickly put a stop to that.
"Ex-Special Agent Fox Mulder. That's quite a mouthful. You prefer Mulder. 'Just Mulder.' You're feeling glad that you don't work at the Hoover building anymore, because now you can make out with 'Dana,' as you call her, any time you like. Your surface thought is a bit juvenile. It's a sing-song voice, saying 'Johnny and Monnie, sittin' in a tree. Kay eye ess ess eye en gee!' But below that, you're thinking about how you desperately want this interview to be over so you can see little William, who is currently in the day-care facility on campus. You're trying to figure out how to get in and out without people knowing that you're his father, because good heavens, if anyone ever found out that you and Dr. Scully were . . . you know . . . there'd be rumors flying like crazy."
All the color had drained out of Mulder's face. Bob looked at Scully, who gulped.
"And Dr. Scully.," Bob said kindly, with a practiced air. "You jumped off what I said to Agent Reyes about sex, and for the last minute or so, you have been preoccupied with thoughts about Mulder's mouth and Mulder's chest and Mulder's groin area and haven't been paying the least bit of attention to me. I've caught you, and you're in the process of convincing yourself that you didn't pay attention because you didn't want to listen in on other people's inner workings."
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Puh-leeze. You're exhausted. William was crying all night last night, and you've been teaching Pathology to idiots all day who couldn't tie their own shoes, let alone survive Quantico. And right now, because you're feeling frightened, you're trying to fend me off by thinking about the closest Sav-On drugstore and the Clairol section, and whether on your next dye job you should be a light auburn or just junk the whole redhead idea and be a brunette. It's been bugging you all day."
Scully stared at him, agape, with her cheeks burning. The other three people were either looking at the table, their hands, or out the window, trying to come to grips with what they'd just heard.
Nobody was pleased. Everybody was either humiliated, or getting steamed. And none of them could seem to look at each other.
Bob leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers behind his head, smiled benevolently and asked, "Any more requests of The Notorious B.O.B.?"
Doggett's face was curled into a bit of a snarl. "Yeah," he growled. "Read my mind."
Bob blinked at him, a bit upset. "Well really, Agent Doggett. I never would have thought that language like that could come from behind a face like yours. I mean, do I really look like a cock-sucking, insensitive, invasive motherfucker to you?"
Reyes gasped. Scully stared at Doggett. And Mulder, thinking sunflower seeds sunflower seeds sunflower seeds to give him some mental cover, took his chance. He jumped over the table and tackled Bob on the ground, sending his chair flying. Hefting the smaller, lighter man up and pinning his arms behind him, he resolutely continued thinking sunflower seeds sunflower seeds sunflower seeds and dragged him out of the room.
Bob protested, a lot, but was physically no match for Mulder, and after a few paces, Mulder flung open a door, flung Bob through it, and slammed it shut, trapping Bob on the other side. Scully and the others came over, confused.
"I just threw Bob into the observational area of the PTA. Come on."
They followed him for a few paces until they were in front of a window, looking in on a large, white, well-lit space. They could see the closed door inside, to their right. A few cameras were suspended above their heads, pointing in different directions. Bob was in the center of the white room, staring around. He looked confused.
"That's a good idea, Mulder. Let the bastard stew in there for a while," Doggett said.
"Well, I don't want him to stew, per se, as to create some distance between us. I just had an idea that maybe his ability to read minds becomes weaker the farther away his targets are."
Mulder looked at Scully and raised his eyebrows. She shrugged. It was an interesting theory, and Lord knew Mulder was full of those.
Reyes was looking around. "What are all the cameras for?" she asked.
"Oh, they're here for testing purposes," Mulder said. "There's three of them outside the 'box,' where we are, and three inside. Between the six of them, they catch everything that happens."
"Oh."
"Uh, guys?" Doggett said, looking through the glass. "The Notorious B.O.B. is on the move."
They all looked in. Bob appeared to be dancing. This would have been fine, had there been any music. But there wasn't. He was snapping his fingers and tapping his feet, and looking straight at them through the glass, even though on his side he only saw a mirror.
"I just love music, don't you?" Bob said, smiling. The microphones were on in the observational area, so they all heard him.
"Just so long as it's not Celine Dion," Mulder cracked.
Unfortunately, that sentence was to be Mulder's last coherent statement for the next few minutes, during which everything went to hell . . . and got caught on videotape.
It was as though Bob was looking through the window at them, the way he looked at everyone so directly. He turned his attention to Mulder, and began to stamp out a beat, with a clever smirk on his face.
THUMP.
"Get ready for the true extent of my power, Just Mulder."
THUMP
THUMP
And he began to clap his hands and sing, in a light, powerful, amazingly in- tune tenor:
"I can read your mind,
And I know your story.
I see what you're goin' through . . . Yeah . . . "
Mulder, to everyone's surprise (particularly his own!), began to jerk his shoulders to the beat, like a puppet on a string. Before he knew it, he was closing his eyes --- and Bob's voice became Celine Dion's, complete with back-up singers and loud percussion. And this somehow inspired him.
"It's an uphill climb,
And the feeling's sorry,
But I know it will come to you, yeah!"
Poor Mulder, who was a former FBI agent and *not* a musician, began to join what he heard in a powerful baritone.
"But don't surrender,
Cuz you can win,
In this thing called luh-uuuuhve . . ."
It was terrible. He was horribly off-pitch. To make matters worse, he started to dance around, jiving, pumping whatever limb he felt like in the air, and swaying his hips. He looked like a robot trying to "swing it." Scully didn't care. She would've helped him, but for some reason, she couldn't seem to take her eyes off his ass.
"When you want it the most, there's no easy way out,
When you're ready to go, and you're heart's left in doubt,
Don't give up on your faith!
Love comes to those who belieeeeeeve it . . .
And that's the way it is!"
And that was when Scully heard it. Three Dog Night, singing . . .
"Jeremiah was a bullfrog,
Was a good friend of mine,
I never understood a single word he said
But I helped him drink his wine.
And he always had some mighty fine wine!"
"Joy to the world!" she "sang," and started to "dance," which mostly consisted of tossing her hair and shaking her behind in Mulder's general direction. (Not that he noticed.) There was a reason she'd gone into science. "All the boys and girls" and the rest of the chorus was delivered in a passionate, but ear-piercing, monotone.
Reyes just had time to look surprised and in pain at this spectacle when Bob began to sing a merry song from her childhood.
"You put your right foot in,
You put your right foot out,
You put your right foot in,
And you shake it all about, . . ."
She responded immediately with the appropriate moves and sang, "You do the Hokey Pokey and you turn yourself around, that's what it's all about!" *clap* *clap* Then, grinning cheerfuly, she just took it from there and started in with, "You put your left foot in . . ."
It was cacophony. Everyone was "singing" at different speeds. Limbs were flailing in every direction. Doggett was looking wildly at his friends, scared, and feeling a little left out at the same time. He turned to the window, where Bob was grinning at him. Whatever had happened to his compatriots was going to happen to him, if Bob decided it. Of that, he was sure. He made a futile attempt to save himself.
"For the record," he said to Bob, "I'm really sorry for thinking you were a motherfucker."
"Buddy, that isn't going to help you. You still DO believe me to be a motherfucker," Bob replied. "And for that, you will suffer."
Doggett's eyes widened.
"Nah, I'm just kidding. You won't suffer. You'll enjoy yourself, actually. And in a couple of days, you'll look back on this and laugh."
"Huh?"
Bob smiled and closed his eyes for a moment. He began to snap his fingers.
"Ah yes. Mrs. Robinson. Excellent choice. See, cuz Mrs. Robinson and me, we're great at getting straight-laced dorks like you to cut loose."
"DOO, doodoodoo, DOO, doodoodoo, DOO doo, doo-doo-doo. Doo Doo Doo-Doo, Doo Doo Doo-Doo!" He repeated it, and then . . .
One! *clap* Two! *clap* Three!
"And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson,
Jesus loves you more than you will know . . .
Whoa whoa whoa, . . ."
This song was familiar to Doggett. It had been playing on the radio when he was a kid. His dad was coming through the screen door, dusty from work, and that song had been on the radio. Slowly, he began to snap his fingers, and sung the rest of the refrain. Rather well.
"God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson,
Heaven holds a place for those who pray,
Hey hey hey . . ."
He kept singing and dancing, stomping around and working his way through the first stanza . . .
"We'd like to know a little bit about you for our files,
We'd like to help you learn to help yourself.
Look around you, all you see are sympathetic eyes, . . ."
Unaware that he was dancing past his compatriots, led by Bob's finger, he danced right over to the door that was containing the Notorious B.O.B..
"Stroll around the grounds until you feel at home ---
And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson,
Jesus loves you more than you will know . . .
Whoa whoa whoa, . . ."
He sang as he opened the door. Bob walked out, politely ushered him into the room, and closed the door behind him. He observed the chaos of three agents gyrating badly to pop tunes, classic rock, and the hokey pokey, and then wiggled his fingers at the area where Doggett was now trapped, to just spice things up a bit. Then, whistling, he walked away.
Mulder was still deeply into the Celine Dion song, which was unfortunate.
"When your life is EMpty,
With no toMOrrow,
And LONEliness starts to call ---
(loneliness starts to call) . . ."
He actually echoed himself, the poor bastard.
"Baby don't WOrry,
Forget your SOrrow,
Cuz love's gonna conquer it ALL . . .
AAAAAAAAALLLLLL!
When you want it the most, there's no easy way out . . ."
He was beginning to peter out, though, now singing more for himself than "performing." He had his arms around thin air, and started to dance slowly, in a circle, till he was finally facing a wall.
Scully and Reyes were beginning to get a little tired, too, and in-between lines of "you put your heeeead in, you put your heeeead out," and "If I were the king of the world, tell you what I'd do, I'd throw away the cars and the bars and war, and make sweet love to you!" they had somehow begun to slow dance with each other, embracing. The songs were beginning to fade away.
"John," Reyes murmured, her mouth against Scully's ear.
"Mulder," Scully whispered.
"Shcully," Mulder slurred, staring in adoration at the wall behind him, still moving from side to side a bit.
Mulder fell forward, bumped his nose, and began to passionately kiss the paint.
Scully and Reyes began to neck.
And in the PTA observational zone, Doggett was seriously getting into the Simon and Garfunkel.
"Sitting on a sofa on a Sunday afternoon,
Going to the candidate's debate,
Laugh about it, shout about it,
When you've got to choose,
Every way you look at it you lose . . ." he bellowed.
He'd already tossed his jacket in the corner, and was in the process of ripping off his tie. He fashioned it into a sort of slip knot, and then tightened it around his head like a headband, stamping and swaying. The two ends hung down in back. It looked absolutely ridiculous with his crewcut, and made his ears stick out even more. He began to shimmy, shaking his hips with a lot of rhythm.
"Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio,
Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you,
Whoo whoo whoo, . . ."
He put a hand to his ear, still dancing. He started to unbutton his shirt.
"What's that you say, Mrs. Robinson,
Joltin' Joe has left and gone away?
Hey hey hey, . . . Hey hey hey."
It was right about then that Mulder snapped out of it. The Notorious B.O.B. had already fled the scene, but Mulder didn't really care. He was too busy spitting everywhere, since he had just been in a serious lip-lock with a grimy wall.
"What the hell happened?" he asked no one in particular, and then turned around and shrieked.
Scully and Reyes, startled by the noise, opened their eyes, realized that they were not kissing their respective partners but *each other,* and separated with screams and lots of hand flapping. They then proceeded to spit everywhere, just as Mulder had done.
When they'd calmed down a little bit, they all turned their shocked attention to the window.
"Oh my dear God," said Scully, seeing Doggett's state. "What is he doing?"
"I don't know, but I like it," was Reyes' mesmerized reply.
"Coo-coo ca-choo, Mrs. Robinson," Doggett sang, ripping off his starched dress shirt.
He began to gyrate his hips in a motion that was somewhere between Elvis and a hula-hoop and kept dancing. One movement flowed beautifully into another, and he twirled his shirt around his head like a Chippendale. He let it fly and paraded around as he sang. Reyes couldn't take her eyes off him.
"Jesus loves you more than you will know . . .
Whoa whoa whoa . . .
God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson,
Heaven holds a place for those who pray.
Hey hey hey . . . Hey hey hey!"
He collapsed to his knees like he'd just finished a rock concert, held up two fists and yelled, "Thank you, New York! WHOOOO!!! Yeah!!!"
He smiled, panting, his arms still raised, and then the smile abruptly disappeared. He lowered his arms, his brow creased, and took in his surroundings. He looked at himself, absently felt his chest, and wondered where his shirt had gone. But he didn't have much time to ponder. From beyond the mirror he heard applause and whistling, and a bit of laughter. He turned red, getting up, not sure if he wanted to hear what he'd just done, because he couldn't seem to remember any of it.
"What in the hell . . . Where'd that sonofabitch Bob get to?!" he asked, indignant, looking for his shirt.
"He took off," came Mulder's voice through the microphone. "He must have gotten you to lock yourself in there and put on your little striptease."
"Put a sock in it, you Diva!" Doggett fired back, grabbing his shirt and jacket and getting his tie off his head. He went out to join the other three.
***
TWO DAYS LATER
1 PM
Mulder, Scully, Doggett, and Reyes were all sitting in chairs in D.D. Kersh's office. Both the men were wearing their nice dark suits, and the women were in their prim skirts and jackets. They'd just seen the videotape of the events with Bob. All of them were feeling humiliated, but slightly amused.
"How did Kersh get his hands on that tape, again?" Mulder asked Scully.
"As I understand it, the Notorious B.O.B. is a wanted man, despite the act that he put on of stopping that mugging. I think the government is looking for him to work intelligence, or something. The tape is proof that the four of us let him escape."
"We didn't let him escape," Doggett said grumpily. "He controlled our minds. That wasn't playing fair."
Reyes took his hand in hers. "When's Kersh coming back?"
"In a few minutes," Scully said. "I guess he wants us to stew, or feel guilty, or something."
"We have nothing to feel guilty about," Mulder said. "This is proof positive of the paranormal. Not only can Bob mess with people's minds, he's a shape-shifter."
"What?" Doggett asked, incredulous.
"Yep. The surveillance tape in the entrance hall of Quantico caught me leaving the building. Twice. The first me was obviously Bob."
"You're makin' that up," Doggett said.
"Nope. I've got some of the security guys making copies of the tape right now."
"Is that what you're going to tell Kersh?" Reyes asked. "That this man is a shape-shifting alien who can control people's minds? Mulder, with all due respect, I don't think you gave this a lot of thought."
"On the contrary, I think I have. It just proves that there's at least one alien out there with a sense of humor. He might have just killed us all. It would have been very easy to convince us to shoot each other."
"Fair enough," Doggett said. "But just because he made you shriek pathetically to Celine Dion doesn't mean he's an alien."
"Excuse me!" Mulder replied, miffed, "But what the hell was this?"
He stood up, wiggled his butt, and began to prance around, twirling an imaginary shirt. Reyes, despite herself, started to giggle.
"You want a nice shiny black eye to match your suit?" Doggett growled, standing up.
Scully stood up fast, gently shoved Doggett into his seat, and grabbed Mulder by the tie. He started making strangling noises.
"Enough. Both of you. Quite frankly, considering how much we humiliated ourselves, I think we should be getting some kind of award --- not screaming at each other."
"Dana, that's a great idea!" Reyes said, brightening. "I have the perfect name. The ToneDef awards."
There was a pause. Reyes kept smiling. Scully released Mulder. Then everyone started snickering, muttering "the ToneDef awards! Ha!" even though it was entirely appropriate. Scully privately felt that between she and Mulder they had the pitch placement of a doorknob and the rhythm of a dead rat. And Reyes and Doggett hadn't been much better.
They all looked at each other and began to nod. This was the right thing to do. They were all screwed, anyway. Why not have some fun?
"All right," Doggett said, "I'll start off. In the category of Best Performance with an Inanimate Object, the ToneDef goes to . . . Mulder and his wall!"
Scully and Reyes started cheering and applauding. Mulder was still a bit annoyed at Doggett, but it was all good-natured, so he found himself grinning and nodding his head in a small bow, mouthing "thank you."
"Well," said Scully, "the ToneDef for Best Choreography, I think, goes to Monica for 'The Hokey Pokey,' because her dance was the only one that actually looked like something. Everybody give her a hand."
"Yay!" yelled Doggett. Mulder whistled. Everybody applauded and Reyes stood up and took a bow.
Mulder put his arm around Scully. "I think the ToneDef for Most Passionate and Least Melodic Performance goes to the lovely Agent Scully for 'Jeremiah was a bullfrog.'"
Everyone started laughing as Scully pouted for a second and then kissed Mulder, a big wet one. There was applause and more laughter.
"Wait a minute! Wait a minute! We forgot John!" Reyes said. "And the dual ToneDef award for Best-Looking Bit of Exposed Flesh AND Best Use of a Necktie go to the amazing Agent Doggett, and his equally amazing chest, for 'Mrs. Robinson.'"
"Yay!" yelled Mulder. There quite a bit of applause, and Reyes continued over it.
"Congratulations, John. What's next for you?"
"Opera." He could barely get the word out, because tears were running down his face from laughing so hard.
Everyone kept on giggling. Scully, in particular, was ready to hyperventilate, and Mulder was holding her and shaking with laughter.
Kersh came in.
The four of them immediately shut up, wiped their faces, sat down primly, and gave him blank looks. He glared at all of them.
"You people really blew it this time."
Everyone looked at each other. They held it together for maybe nine seconds.
Reyes cracked first, her laugh sounding like a "Kssshhhh . . . hee hee hee! Ah ha ha!" She bent over in her chair, snorting and giggling hysterically. Doggett and Mulder followed. Mulder tickled Scully, and she shrieked and started laughing again. Skinner, standing in the doorway, was smirking. Kersh was really irritated.
In the end, they all got thrown out of the office on their asses, still laughing. Mulder had and Scully in particular had instructions never to show their faces to him again. Reyes and Scully were cracking jokes about "coming out" and Doggett and Mulder were doing hideous impressions of one another (Mulder looked like he was at a luau and Doggett's "love's gonna conquer it all, . . . AAAAALLL!" could have shattered glass).
"Hey!" Mulder said above all the babble. "Let's go get lunch. I mean, we've already been chewed out. Why not go get something to chew *on*?"
There were moans and faces of disgust from the other three, but a general assent.
"That pun was even worse than your singing, Mulder," Doggett said.
Mulder, in response, imitated a static-y P.A. system at a strip club. "*ccchhh* Southern Comfort to the Blue Lounge. Get your thong on, buddy. Final call. *ccchhh* . . ."
Between the gently bickering men and the laughing women hanging off of them, they all made quite a picture as they headed for the elevator --- arms linked, steps springing, heads held high.
THE END
*** *** ***
I love these people. They're so much fun.
Please tell me what you thought.
By the way, the selections were:
Celine Dion, "And That's The Way It Is" (which she sings mostly through gritted teeth)
Three Dog Night, "Joy to the World"
"The Hokey Pokey"
and . . .
Simon and Garfunkel, "Mrs. Robinson."
Please note that the lyrics from Mrs. Robinson are in the wrong order.
Peace. :D
AUTHOR: Kiki Cabou
FEEDBACK: Beyond price. Kindly R/R or send it to kcabou@hotmail.com.
SUMMARY: This little story featuring Mulder, Scully, Doggett, and Reyes has bad dancing, worse singing, and an act of accidental lesbianism. You have been warned.
SPOILERS: Detour. I think that's it.
NOTES: Since our heroes have gone away, and the finale was just so --- Ugh, don't get me started --- I figured everybody could use a laugh. Hopefully, this fits the bill. It takes place in an imaginary Season 9 where there's no threat to anybody. Mulder and Scully have William and are "living in sin." They're both teaching at Quantico, Psychology and Pathology respectively. Reyes and Doggett are "officially" on the X-files.
CATEGORY: Vignette/Humor/Romance(?)
RATING: PG-13, for a few spurts of seriously bad language.
ARCHIVE: Anywhere. Just let me know.
MY DEEPEST APOLOGIES TO: Celine Dion, whoever wrote "The Hokey Pokey," Three Dog Night, and Simon and Garfunkel.
DISCLAIMER: I own nobody from the X-files. The only person in this who's mine is Bob. But if you say "please," you can borrow him. :D
On with the show. :D
*** *** *** *** *** *** ***
MRS. ROBINSON AND ME
*** *** *** *** *** *** ***
FIFTH AVENUE
QUANTICO, V.A.
MARCH
1 PM
"Hey! Stop!" Mulder yelled, winded.
He was sprinting after a citizen who apparently thought he'd done something wrong. The man he was pursuing, a slim, thoroughly ordinary-looking blond guy in a wool sweater and dress slacks, gave a frightened look over his shoulder, but kept running.
Mulder was getting pissed. Catching criminals wasn't even his job anymore, and it was supposed to be his lunch break, between Psychology classes at Quantico. But he saw relief in sight as he ran, and continued to call attention to the chase by yelling various forms of "stop" at intervals.
The man didn't stop. He kept running, right past an alley, when someone else hurtled out of it and tackled him on the sidewalk. Mulder jogged to a halt to see Agent John Doggett pulling out the handcuffs, practically sitting on the man who had been trying to run.
"Thanks for taking the shortcut," Mulder wheezed. "I couldn't have caught him."
"Just glad I was here," Doggett muttered, and cursed, because the guy he was attempting to cuff was slippery. "Now what the hell did you run for?" he asked.
The man on the sidewalk didn't answer --- he merely sighed. Doggett helped him up, and Mulder glared at him a little.
"Sir. For the last time, since you apparently didn't hear all the other things I shouted at you. The city thanks you for saving the life of that woman back there, who was almost mugged. You did a brave thing, fending off that guy with the gun. You made it very easy for Agent Reyes to apprehend him."
The man, instead of acknowledging the compliments, stared unhappily at his shoes. Doggett tried to catch his eye.
"Sir?" he asked.
The man licked his lips, then finally stared at both of his captors. "I just wanted to help that woman. But I can't be seen," he said, in a quiet, quivering voice. "That's why I ran."
"Can't be seen? What are you, like, Witness Protection, or something?" Doggett asked.
The man looked at his shoes again. Doggett looked annoyed, but Mulder realized there was something else going on here.
"Hey, Doggett, did you ever get that package to Scully?"
"Yeah. I dropped it off before Monica and I went to meet you."
"Okay." He turned to the handcuffed man. "Sir, would you come with us? I know a private place where we can talk. Would that be all right?"
At this, finally, the man looked less depressed. He nodded. Doggett reached for his handcuff key.
"All right. I'ma set you free. Just don't run, okay?"
The man nodded. Doggett unlocked the cuffs and motioned to his car, parked across the street. The man didn't see that motion, since he was looking down and rubbing his wrists, but turned, and took off straight for the vehicle anyway. Mulder and Doggett exchanged a look and followed him to the car.
"Careful," Mulder murmured at the other man, who nodded.
"Let's take him to the police station," Doggett said quietly.
"No, I know a place that's better. The PTA at Quantico. It's spacious and comfortable, and private. He should be okay to talk to us there."
"About what?"
Mulder shrugged. Doggett rolled his eyes. All three of them piled into the sedan and Doggett called Reyes, telling her where to meet them. Mulder called Scully.
***
In a few minutes, Doggett, Mulder, Scully, Reyes, and the mysterious man they'd caught were all ensconced in a meeting room in the basement of Quantico, next to the actual Psychological Testing Arena (PTA).
Scully, leaning back in her chair, regarded the man across the table from her, and asked the first question.
"May I ask your name, sir?"
"Oh, sure," he replied kindly. "Robert Elias Parker. Most people call me Eli. I don't really like that, though."
"You prefer Robert?" Doggett asked.
"Um, well, actually, I prefer 'The Notorious B.O.B.'," he said, completely serious.
There was a pause as everybody stared back and forth between each other and the rather studious-looking, well-mannered man across the table from them.
"Or Bob, if you like," he finished.
And it just got weirder.
They asked a few more questions, with Bob filling them in on how he came to help the woman. It seemed that this was more than a case of a man being in the right place at the right time and knowing what to do. Mulder finally hit the nail on the head. (As usual.)
"So what you're saying is that you didn't have a *picture* of the attack happening before it happened, so much as you *heard the thoughts* of the mugger. Is that what you're trying to say?"
Bob seemed to perk up at this explanation and nodded emphatically.
"I see. Can you wait here for a minute? We'll all be right back."
He motioned to everybody and they all stepped out of the conference room, closing the door behind them.
"What do you guys think?" he asked. "Personally, I believe him."
"Mulder, in case you've forgotten, you believe everything," Doggett said.
Scully glared at him.
"What?!" he said defensively. "I mean, c'mon. This guy could be makin' this stuff up as he goes along."
"Or, he could be telling the truth," Reyes argued.
"Well, there's only one way to find out," Scully said. "Let's do a test. We'll each go in there, and ask him to tell us what's on our minds. If he can do it, then we'll see what else he's capable of."
They all agreed, some more enthusiastically than others, and went back in. Bob looked up at them politely. They all had their FBI faces on, making it impossible to read anything from their expressions.
"Okay, Bob," Mulder said, as they all sat down. "Your story is interesting, but in order to really make sense of it, we need a little proof. All you have to do, as a test, is tell each of us what's on our minds right now. Go."
"All right," Bob said amiably, and started from his left. "Agent Doggett. You think I'm an idiot, and a liar. You're hungry, and want to go home, even though it's hardly the afternoon. Your tie is itching you, and you're tired, but you can tolerate that because you're looking forward to ripping it off and taking a nap when you get in, and then seeing a movie tonight with Agent Reyes. You're hoping she'll pick a nice foreign film with no audience, that you don't care about, so you two can make out in the back of the movie theater in relative privacy."
Doggett had lost his blank expression and was now blinking at him, slack- jawed.
"Sir, a closed mouth gathers no flies."
Doggett shut his mouth, but kept staring. Reyes, on the other end of the table, puffed herself up and pursed her lips a bit. Bob turned to her.
"And Agent Reyes, under that mask of indignation, you can't believe Doggett was thinking something so tame, because quite frankly, you wouldn't mind skipping the movie and just having sex with him. But you really like Thai food, and you're thinking you should both have some of that first, before you get down to business. Frankly, I wouldn't recommend it. The ubiquitous bean sprouts will leave you both gassy and bloated, and that's no way to make love. You're smart, but not terribly good at thinking ahead. That was just a personal observation.
Anyway. Thai food reminds you of the first time you went out with John and had dinner. He really impressed you as not only a physically desirable man, but as a good person, and you always look forward to any kind of non- professional outing with him."
Reyes had stopped looking affronted a while ago, and was now looking kind of sick.
"Y-You can see all that?" she stuttered.
Bob smiled.
"You two have made out in the Hoover building exactly 12 times, once even in ---"
"NO!" Doggett and Reyes yelled at once. "Shut up!/That's enough!"
Mulder and Scully were starting to smile. Bob quickly put a stop to that.
"Ex-Special Agent Fox Mulder. That's quite a mouthful. You prefer Mulder. 'Just Mulder.' You're feeling glad that you don't work at the Hoover building anymore, because now you can make out with 'Dana,' as you call her, any time you like. Your surface thought is a bit juvenile. It's a sing-song voice, saying 'Johnny and Monnie, sittin' in a tree. Kay eye ess ess eye en gee!' But below that, you're thinking about how you desperately want this interview to be over so you can see little William, who is currently in the day-care facility on campus. You're trying to figure out how to get in and out without people knowing that you're his father, because good heavens, if anyone ever found out that you and Dr. Scully were . . . you know . . . there'd be rumors flying like crazy."
All the color had drained out of Mulder's face. Bob looked at Scully, who gulped.
"And Dr. Scully.," Bob said kindly, with a practiced air. "You jumped off what I said to Agent Reyes about sex, and for the last minute or so, you have been preoccupied with thoughts about Mulder's mouth and Mulder's chest and Mulder's groin area and haven't been paying the least bit of attention to me. I've caught you, and you're in the process of convincing yourself that you didn't pay attention because you didn't want to listen in on other people's inner workings."
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Puh-leeze. You're exhausted. William was crying all night last night, and you've been teaching Pathology to idiots all day who couldn't tie their own shoes, let alone survive Quantico. And right now, because you're feeling frightened, you're trying to fend me off by thinking about the closest Sav-On drugstore and the Clairol section, and whether on your next dye job you should be a light auburn or just junk the whole redhead idea and be a brunette. It's been bugging you all day."
Scully stared at him, agape, with her cheeks burning. The other three people were either looking at the table, their hands, or out the window, trying to come to grips with what they'd just heard.
Nobody was pleased. Everybody was either humiliated, or getting steamed. And none of them could seem to look at each other.
Bob leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers behind his head, smiled benevolently and asked, "Any more requests of The Notorious B.O.B.?"
Doggett's face was curled into a bit of a snarl. "Yeah," he growled. "Read my mind."
Bob blinked at him, a bit upset. "Well really, Agent Doggett. I never would have thought that language like that could come from behind a face like yours. I mean, do I really look like a cock-sucking, insensitive, invasive motherfucker to you?"
Reyes gasped. Scully stared at Doggett. And Mulder, thinking sunflower seeds sunflower seeds sunflower seeds to give him some mental cover, took his chance. He jumped over the table and tackled Bob on the ground, sending his chair flying. Hefting the smaller, lighter man up and pinning his arms behind him, he resolutely continued thinking sunflower seeds sunflower seeds sunflower seeds and dragged him out of the room.
Bob protested, a lot, but was physically no match for Mulder, and after a few paces, Mulder flung open a door, flung Bob through it, and slammed it shut, trapping Bob on the other side. Scully and the others came over, confused.
"I just threw Bob into the observational area of the PTA. Come on."
They followed him for a few paces until they were in front of a window, looking in on a large, white, well-lit space. They could see the closed door inside, to their right. A few cameras were suspended above their heads, pointing in different directions. Bob was in the center of the white room, staring around. He looked confused.
"That's a good idea, Mulder. Let the bastard stew in there for a while," Doggett said.
"Well, I don't want him to stew, per se, as to create some distance between us. I just had an idea that maybe his ability to read minds becomes weaker the farther away his targets are."
Mulder looked at Scully and raised his eyebrows. She shrugged. It was an interesting theory, and Lord knew Mulder was full of those.
Reyes was looking around. "What are all the cameras for?" she asked.
"Oh, they're here for testing purposes," Mulder said. "There's three of them outside the 'box,' where we are, and three inside. Between the six of them, they catch everything that happens."
"Oh."
"Uh, guys?" Doggett said, looking through the glass. "The Notorious B.O.B. is on the move."
They all looked in. Bob appeared to be dancing. This would have been fine, had there been any music. But there wasn't. He was snapping his fingers and tapping his feet, and looking straight at them through the glass, even though on his side he only saw a mirror.
"I just love music, don't you?" Bob said, smiling. The microphones were on in the observational area, so they all heard him.
"Just so long as it's not Celine Dion," Mulder cracked.
Unfortunately, that sentence was to be Mulder's last coherent statement for the next few minutes, during which everything went to hell . . . and got caught on videotape.
It was as though Bob was looking through the window at them, the way he looked at everyone so directly. He turned his attention to Mulder, and began to stamp out a beat, with a clever smirk on his face.
THUMP.
"Get ready for the true extent of my power, Just Mulder."
THUMP
THUMP
And he began to clap his hands and sing, in a light, powerful, amazingly in- tune tenor:
"I can read your mind,
And I know your story.
I see what you're goin' through . . . Yeah . . . "
Mulder, to everyone's surprise (particularly his own!), began to jerk his shoulders to the beat, like a puppet on a string. Before he knew it, he was closing his eyes --- and Bob's voice became Celine Dion's, complete with back-up singers and loud percussion. And this somehow inspired him.
"It's an uphill climb,
And the feeling's sorry,
But I know it will come to you, yeah!"
Poor Mulder, who was a former FBI agent and *not* a musician, began to join what he heard in a powerful baritone.
"But don't surrender,
Cuz you can win,
In this thing called luh-uuuuhve . . ."
It was terrible. He was horribly off-pitch. To make matters worse, he started to dance around, jiving, pumping whatever limb he felt like in the air, and swaying his hips. He looked like a robot trying to "swing it." Scully didn't care. She would've helped him, but for some reason, she couldn't seem to take her eyes off his ass.
"When you want it the most, there's no easy way out,
When you're ready to go, and you're heart's left in doubt,
Don't give up on your faith!
Love comes to those who belieeeeeeve it . . .
And that's the way it is!"
And that was when Scully heard it. Three Dog Night, singing . . .
"Jeremiah was a bullfrog,
Was a good friend of mine,
I never understood a single word he said
But I helped him drink his wine.
And he always had some mighty fine wine!"
"Joy to the world!" she "sang," and started to "dance," which mostly consisted of tossing her hair and shaking her behind in Mulder's general direction. (Not that he noticed.) There was a reason she'd gone into science. "All the boys and girls" and the rest of the chorus was delivered in a passionate, but ear-piercing, monotone.
Reyes just had time to look surprised and in pain at this spectacle when Bob began to sing a merry song from her childhood.
"You put your right foot in,
You put your right foot out,
You put your right foot in,
And you shake it all about, . . ."
She responded immediately with the appropriate moves and sang, "You do the Hokey Pokey and you turn yourself around, that's what it's all about!" *clap* *clap* Then, grinning cheerfuly, she just took it from there and started in with, "You put your left foot in . . ."
It was cacophony. Everyone was "singing" at different speeds. Limbs were flailing in every direction. Doggett was looking wildly at his friends, scared, and feeling a little left out at the same time. He turned to the window, where Bob was grinning at him. Whatever had happened to his compatriots was going to happen to him, if Bob decided it. Of that, he was sure. He made a futile attempt to save himself.
"For the record," he said to Bob, "I'm really sorry for thinking you were a motherfucker."
"Buddy, that isn't going to help you. You still DO believe me to be a motherfucker," Bob replied. "And for that, you will suffer."
Doggett's eyes widened.
"Nah, I'm just kidding. You won't suffer. You'll enjoy yourself, actually. And in a couple of days, you'll look back on this and laugh."
"Huh?"
Bob smiled and closed his eyes for a moment. He began to snap his fingers.
"Ah yes. Mrs. Robinson. Excellent choice. See, cuz Mrs. Robinson and me, we're great at getting straight-laced dorks like you to cut loose."
"DOO, doodoodoo, DOO, doodoodoo, DOO doo, doo-doo-doo. Doo Doo Doo-Doo, Doo Doo Doo-Doo!" He repeated it, and then . . .
One! *clap* Two! *clap* Three!
"And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson,
Jesus loves you more than you will know . . .
Whoa whoa whoa, . . ."
This song was familiar to Doggett. It had been playing on the radio when he was a kid. His dad was coming through the screen door, dusty from work, and that song had been on the radio. Slowly, he began to snap his fingers, and sung the rest of the refrain. Rather well.
"God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson,
Heaven holds a place for those who pray,
Hey hey hey . . ."
He kept singing and dancing, stomping around and working his way through the first stanza . . .
"We'd like to know a little bit about you for our files,
We'd like to help you learn to help yourself.
Look around you, all you see are sympathetic eyes, . . ."
Unaware that he was dancing past his compatriots, led by Bob's finger, he danced right over to the door that was containing the Notorious B.O.B..
"Stroll around the grounds until you feel at home ---
And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson,
Jesus loves you more than you will know . . .
Whoa whoa whoa, . . ."
He sang as he opened the door. Bob walked out, politely ushered him into the room, and closed the door behind him. He observed the chaos of three agents gyrating badly to pop tunes, classic rock, and the hokey pokey, and then wiggled his fingers at the area where Doggett was now trapped, to just spice things up a bit. Then, whistling, he walked away.
Mulder was still deeply into the Celine Dion song, which was unfortunate.
"When your life is EMpty,
With no toMOrrow,
And LONEliness starts to call ---
(loneliness starts to call) . . ."
He actually echoed himself, the poor bastard.
"Baby don't WOrry,
Forget your SOrrow,
Cuz love's gonna conquer it ALL . . .
AAAAAAAAALLLLLL!
When you want it the most, there's no easy way out . . ."
He was beginning to peter out, though, now singing more for himself than "performing." He had his arms around thin air, and started to dance slowly, in a circle, till he was finally facing a wall.
Scully and Reyes were beginning to get a little tired, too, and in-between lines of "you put your heeeead in, you put your heeeead out," and "If I were the king of the world, tell you what I'd do, I'd throw away the cars and the bars and war, and make sweet love to you!" they had somehow begun to slow dance with each other, embracing. The songs were beginning to fade away.
"John," Reyes murmured, her mouth against Scully's ear.
"Mulder," Scully whispered.
"Shcully," Mulder slurred, staring in adoration at the wall behind him, still moving from side to side a bit.
Mulder fell forward, bumped his nose, and began to passionately kiss the paint.
Scully and Reyes began to neck.
And in the PTA observational zone, Doggett was seriously getting into the Simon and Garfunkel.
"Sitting on a sofa on a Sunday afternoon,
Going to the candidate's debate,
Laugh about it, shout about it,
When you've got to choose,
Every way you look at it you lose . . ." he bellowed.
He'd already tossed his jacket in the corner, and was in the process of ripping off his tie. He fashioned it into a sort of slip knot, and then tightened it around his head like a headband, stamping and swaying. The two ends hung down in back. It looked absolutely ridiculous with his crewcut, and made his ears stick out even more. He began to shimmy, shaking his hips with a lot of rhythm.
"Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio,
Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you,
Whoo whoo whoo, . . ."
He put a hand to his ear, still dancing. He started to unbutton his shirt.
"What's that you say, Mrs. Robinson,
Joltin' Joe has left and gone away?
Hey hey hey, . . . Hey hey hey."
It was right about then that Mulder snapped out of it. The Notorious B.O.B. had already fled the scene, but Mulder didn't really care. He was too busy spitting everywhere, since he had just been in a serious lip-lock with a grimy wall.
"What the hell happened?" he asked no one in particular, and then turned around and shrieked.
Scully and Reyes, startled by the noise, opened their eyes, realized that they were not kissing their respective partners but *each other,* and separated with screams and lots of hand flapping. They then proceeded to spit everywhere, just as Mulder had done.
When they'd calmed down a little bit, they all turned their shocked attention to the window.
"Oh my dear God," said Scully, seeing Doggett's state. "What is he doing?"
"I don't know, but I like it," was Reyes' mesmerized reply.
"Coo-coo ca-choo, Mrs. Robinson," Doggett sang, ripping off his starched dress shirt.
He began to gyrate his hips in a motion that was somewhere between Elvis and a hula-hoop and kept dancing. One movement flowed beautifully into another, and he twirled his shirt around his head like a Chippendale. He let it fly and paraded around as he sang. Reyes couldn't take her eyes off him.
"Jesus loves you more than you will know . . .
Whoa whoa whoa . . .
God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson,
Heaven holds a place for those who pray.
Hey hey hey . . . Hey hey hey!"
He collapsed to his knees like he'd just finished a rock concert, held up two fists and yelled, "Thank you, New York! WHOOOO!!! Yeah!!!"
He smiled, panting, his arms still raised, and then the smile abruptly disappeared. He lowered his arms, his brow creased, and took in his surroundings. He looked at himself, absently felt his chest, and wondered where his shirt had gone. But he didn't have much time to ponder. From beyond the mirror he heard applause and whistling, and a bit of laughter. He turned red, getting up, not sure if he wanted to hear what he'd just done, because he couldn't seem to remember any of it.
"What in the hell . . . Where'd that sonofabitch Bob get to?!" he asked, indignant, looking for his shirt.
"He took off," came Mulder's voice through the microphone. "He must have gotten you to lock yourself in there and put on your little striptease."
"Put a sock in it, you Diva!" Doggett fired back, grabbing his shirt and jacket and getting his tie off his head. He went out to join the other three.
***
TWO DAYS LATER
1 PM
Mulder, Scully, Doggett, and Reyes were all sitting in chairs in D.D. Kersh's office. Both the men were wearing their nice dark suits, and the women were in their prim skirts and jackets. They'd just seen the videotape of the events with Bob. All of them were feeling humiliated, but slightly amused.
"How did Kersh get his hands on that tape, again?" Mulder asked Scully.
"As I understand it, the Notorious B.O.B. is a wanted man, despite the act that he put on of stopping that mugging. I think the government is looking for him to work intelligence, or something. The tape is proof that the four of us let him escape."
"We didn't let him escape," Doggett said grumpily. "He controlled our minds. That wasn't playing fair."
Reyes took his hand in hers. "When's Kersh coming back?"
"In a few minutes," Scully said. "I guess he wants us to stew, or feel guilty, or something."
"We have nothing to feel guilty about," Mulder said. "This is proof positive of the paranormal. Not only can Bob mess with people's minds, he's a shape-shifter."
"What?" Doggett asked, incredulous.
"Yep. The surveillance tape in the entrance hall of Quantico caught me leaving the building. Twice. The first me was obviously Bob."
"You're makin' that up," Doggett said.
"Nope. I've got some of the security guys making copies of the tape right now."
"Is that what you're going to tell Kersh?" Reyes asked. "That this man is a shape-shifting alien who can control people's minds? Mulder, with all due respect, I don't think you gave this a lot of thought."
"On the contrary, I think I have. It just proves that there's at least one alien out there with a sense of humor. He might have just killed us all. It would have been very easy to convince us to shoot each other."
"Fair enough," Doggett said. "But just because he made you shriek pathetically to Celine Dion doesn't mean he's an alien."
"Excuse me!" Mulder replied, miffed, "But what the hell was this?"
He stood up, wiggled his butt, and began to prance around, twirling an imaginary shirt. Reyes, despite herself, started to giggle.
"You want a nice shiny black eye to match your suit?" Doggett growled, standing up.
Scully stood up fast, gently shoved Doggett into his seat, and grabbed Mulder by the tie. He started making strangling noises.
"Enough. Both of you. Quite frankly, considering how much we humiliated ourselves, I think we should be getting some kind of award --- not screaming at each other."
"Dana, that's a great idea!" Reyes said, brightening. "I have the perfect name. The ToneDef awards."
There was a pause. Reyes kept smiling. Scully released Mulder. Then everyone started snickering, muttering "the ToneDef awards! Ha!" even though it was entirely appropriate. Scully privately felt that between she and Mulder they had the pitch placement of a doorknob and the rhythm of a dead rat. And Reyes and Doggett hadn't been much better.
They all looked at each other and began to nod. This was the right thing to do. They were all screwed, anyway. Why not have some fun?
"All right," Doggett said, "I'll start off. In the category of Best Performance with an Inanimate Object, the ToneDef goes to . . . Mulder and his wall!"
Scully and Reyes started cheering and applauding. Mulder was still a bit annoyed at Doggett, but it was all good-natured, so he found himself grinning and nodding his head in a small bow, mouthing "thank you."
"Well," said Scully, "the ToneDef for Best Choreography, I think, goes to Monica for 'The Hokey Pokey,' because her dance was the only one that actually looked like something. Everybody give her a hand."
"Yay!" yelled Doggett. Mulder whistled. Everybody applauded and Reyes stood up and took a bow.
Mulder put his arm around Scully. "I think the ToneDef for Most Passionate and Least Melodic Performance goes to the lovely Agent Scully for 'Jeremiah was a bullfrog.'"
Everyone started laughing as Scully pouted for a second and then kissed Mulder, a big wet one. There was applause and more laughter.
"Wait a minute! Wait a minute! We forgot John!" Reyes said. "And the dual ToneDef award for Best-Looking Bit of Exposed Flesh AND Best Use of a Necktie go to the amazing Agent Doggett, and his equally amazing chest, for 'Mrs. Robinson.'"
"Yay!" yelled Mulder. There quite a bit of applause, and Reyes continued over it.
"Congratulations, John. What's next for you?"
"Opera." He could barely get the word out, because tears were running down his face from laughing so hard.
Everyone kept on giggling. Scully, in particular, was ready to hyperventilate, and Mulder was holding her and shaking with laughter.
Kersh came in.
The four of them immediately shut up, wiped their faces, sat down primly, and gave him blank looks. He glared at all of them.
"You people really blew it this time."
Everyone looked at each other. They held it together for maybe nine seconds.
Reyes cracked first, her laugh sounding like a "Kssshhhh . . . hee hee hee! Ah ha ha!" She bent over in her chair, snorting and giggling hysterically. Doggett and Mulder followed. Mulder tickled Scully, and she shrieked and started laughing again. Skinner, standing in the doorway, was smirking. Kersh was really irritated.
In the end, they all got thrown out of the office on their asses, still laughing. Mulder had and Scully in particular had instructions never to show their faces to him again. Reyes and Scully were cracking jokes about "coming out" and Doggett and Mulder were doing hideous impressions of one another (Mulder looked like he was at a luau and Doggett's "love's gonna conquer it all, . . . AAAAALLL!" could have shattered glass).
"Hey!" Mulder said above all the babble. "Let's go get lunch. I mean, we've already been chewed out. Why not go get something to chew *on*?"
There were moans and faces of disgust from the other three, but a general assent.
"That pun was even worse than your singing, Mulder," Doggett said.
Mulder, in response, imitated a static-y P.A. system at a strip club. "*ccchhh* Southern Comfort to the Blue Lounge. Get your thong on, buddy. Final call. *ccchhh* . . ."
Between the gently bickering men and the laughing women hanging off of them, they all made quite a picture as they headed for the elevator --- arms linked, steps springing, heads held high.
THE END
*** *** ***
I love these people. They're so much fun.
Please tell me what you thought.
By the way, the selections were:
Celine Dion, "And That's The Way It Is" (which she sings mostly through gritted teeth)
Three Dog Night, "Joy to the World"
"The Hokey Pokey"
and . . .
Simon and Garfunkel, "Mrs. Robinson."
Please note that the lyrics from Mrs. Robinson are in the wrong order.
Peace. :D