['Ello everyone! I just wanted to really and truly thank everyone that has
sent me feedback. Every time I bread it, it makes my day. You're all so
amazing. Really. So I'm giving you the chance to give me input on how this
should turn out. What do YOU want to happen? Reply please. And again, all
you reviewers really rock. Thanks so much.]
Mulder was being brought back to his apartment, and as was standard, was forced to be more excited than he actually felt. Rather than being over the mood about his new pad and threads, he had a vague sick feeling nesting in the pit of his stomach.
He had purchased new clothing, new home wear and was having his apartment redecorated at no cost, and yet the notion of evil government conspiracies continued to plague his mind. He thought that perhaps this entire set up was a conspiracy, but figured that the conspirators could not possibly pull off 'flamboyant' in quite the way a *real* gay man could. He was relieved for a moment, and then weirded out when he realized he had just made the assumption that his possible conspirators were gay... and possibly spying on him in the shower.
He smiled, grimaced, and then shook his head, wondering why his mind was playing such games with him. Feeling like he had just drank a gallon of DayQuil and had been slapped in the face by a rather large trout, he coughed, sputtered and opened the window of the SUV.
"Foxy hasn't talked in awhile. Cat got your tongue?" Carson attempted to be sleek by running his hand down Mulder's arm and slapping Ted on the shoulder. Ah, there was the sick feeling again.
Noticing how Mulder was looking a bit green, he changed the topic of conversation. "So, this Dana, what's between the two of you?" The car went silent as the three men waited for his answer.
Mulder cleared his throat and began to formulate an adequate answer. "Uh, she's just my partner."
"Well, are you what they're hanging out standard issue these days?" Carson poked fun and was able to draw a laugh out of everyone.
If Carson hit on him once more, he was going to vomit. Ted was busy raving about the basil that he found and Mulder was just about to snap. Not freak out snap, pull out his gun and start going to town. That's how miffed he was. Pulling around the corner to his apartment, Mulder vaguely registered Carson asking him if he was excited. Feigning a smile, he claimed he was, and the three other men went about chatting about how 'ab fab' the place had to have turned out.
What he didn't know is that while he was feeling rather nauseous, Scully was doubled over in her shower stall attempting to grasp the slippery soap, dropping it, repeating the process and telling herself how absolutely stupid she was (he also didn't know that she had run out of shampoo and had to walk to her kitchen naked to get some, but either way... he didn't know).
Bags were shoved into his hands as four pairs of legs marched up the stone steps to the apartment foyer. It took the gang three minutes to make it up to the apartment, with minor elevator troubles. Once outside his door, Ted took the bags from Mulder's hands and Carson clamped his hands over his eyes. Mulder was getting the sense that Carson simply liked touching him. The icky-weirdness he felt began to duke it out with the nausea for precedence.
The ickiness was winning as his sweaty palm came out to grasp the doorknob. He turned, heard the click of the latch letting go... and held his breath.
Mulder was being brought back to his apartment, and as was standard, was forced to be more excited than he actually felt. Rather than being over the mood about his new pad and threads, he had a vague sick feeling nesting in the pit of his stomach.
He had purchased new clothing, new home wear and was having his apartment redecorated at no cost, and yet the notion of evil government conspiracies continued to plague his mind. He thought that perhaps this entire set up was a conspiracy, but figured that the conspirators could not possibly pull off 'flamboyant' in quite the way a *real* gay man could. He was relieved for a moment, and then weirded out when he realized he had just made the assumption that his possible conspirators were gay... and possibly spying on him in the shower.
He smiled, grimaced, and then shook his head, wondering why his mind was playing such games with him. Feeling like he had just drank a gallon of DayQuil and had been slapped in the face by a rather large trout, he coughed, sputtered and opened the window of the SUV.
"Foxy hasn't talked in awhile. Cat got your tongue?" Carson attempted to be sleek by running his hand down Mulder's arm and slapping Ted on the shoulder. Ah, there was the sick feeling again.
Noticing how Mulder was looking a bit green, he changed the topic of conversation. "So, this Dana, what's between the two of you?" The car went silent as the three men waited for his answer.
Mulder cleared his throat and began to formulate an adequate answer. "Uh, she's just my partner."
"Well, are you what they're hanging out standard issue these days?" Carson poked fun and was able to draw a laugh out of everyone.
If Carson hit on him once more, he was going to vomit. Ted was busy raving about the basil that he found and Mulder was just about to snap. Not freak out snap, pull out his gun and start going to town. That's how miffed he was. Pulling around the corner to his apartment, Mulder vaguely registered Carson asking him if he was excited. Feigning a smile, he claimed he was, and the three other men went about chatting about how 'ab fab' the place had to have turned out.
What he didn't know is that while he was feeling rather nauseous, Scully was doubled over in her shower stall attempting to grasp the slippery soap, dropping it, repeating the process and telling herself how absolutely stupid she was (he also didn't know that she had run out of shampoo and had to walk to her kitchen naked to get some, but either way... he didn't know).
Bags were shoved into his hands as four pairs of legs marched up the stone steps to the apartment foyer. It took the gang three minutes to make it up to the apartment, with minor elevator troubles. Once outside his door, Ted took the bags from Mulder's hands and Carson clamped his hands over his eyes. Mulder was getting the sense that Carson simply liked touching him. The icky-weirdness he felt began to duke it out with the nausea for precedence.
The ickiness was winning as his sweaty palm came out to grasp the doorknob. He turned, heard the click of the latch letting go... and held his breath.