This story is rated PG for right now. It might change later depending on
where exactly I go with this story.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Skinner, Mulder or Scully. They are owned by 1013 Productions and Fox. X-Files and all related characters were created by Chris Carter, and we still do not like him for killing off our beloved Krycek.
Sloan Bishop, along with the story, though, are mine. Read but do not hurt.
Timeline: Oh geminie Christmas ... I would have to say sometime in the 5th season, before the show jumped the shark. It doesn't exactly fit in any specific episode so yeah, whatever.
Anyway, enough of that mumbo jumbo crap, I hope you like! And please review!!!
* * *
The Assistant Director of the FBI, Walter Skinner, sank into his love seat with the clank of ice against a glass cup. He took a sip of the liquid and swished it around in his mouth. What he wouldn't give for a glass of gin, or rum, or anything with alcohol in it, but all he had left was warm lemonade and a half drunken liter of Pepsi. So Pepsi it was.
It had been a long day, and an even longer week. He sat quietly listening to the soothing sounds of Beethoven and ran the day back over in his head. He had finally gotten done with the pile of paperwork two of his agents had created for him. And then he was politely asked to take a couple weeks vacation while an investigation on those agents was conducted.
He was usually very protective of both Agent Mulder and Scully, but this time Mulder had gone too far, and he had managed to drag Scully along with him. Skinner wasn't sure what exactly Mulder had done. Whatever it was, it was enough to get the higher powers involved to make sure Skinner didn't find out about it himself.
But it didn't matter, he told himself. He would let Mulder handle this one on his own. And if he asked for help ...
Skinner took another long swig of his pop.
If Mulder asked for help, he wouldn't give it. But if Scully did ... he knew he would have to help. He had a soft spot for that redhead. Not in a romantic sense, but more as a father figure. Skinner worried for her well being while she stood next to Mulder. Mulder always meant well, but he managed to get in trouble every time.
A brisk knock on his apartment door brought him back to the present. He glanced down to his watch. 1:13am. Skinner sighed. If it was Mulder, he was going to shoot him. Pushing himself out of the loveseat, he forced his legs to bring him to the door and open it. To his surprise, it wasn't Mulder; in fact it was a completely unfamiliar face.
The woman that stood before him was young. Mid-twenties, if he had to guess. She looked like she had gotten in a fight with a bag of flour, and lost. But despite the white in her hair, across her face, down the front of her black tank top, and a large spot on her cutoff jean shorts, she was incredibly attractive. Her long legs were bare, right down to her red painted toes.
"I'm sorry it's so late," she started, pushing the hair falling out of her hair tie, out of her face, "but I heard music, and I saw your light reflecting off your balcony." She paused for a moment, realizing how strange that made her look. "Yeah, and that sounds really stalkerish. I live next door," she explained, pointing in the direction of her apartment.
"Is there something I can help you with?" Skinner asked not knowing what this girl was getting at.
"Oh, yeah. I wanted to know if you had three eggs I could borrow. See, there was this terrible accident, and well, the eggs didn't make it." And then she flashed him the brightest smile he had ever seen.
He couldn't help it, the corners of his mouth turned upwards into small smirk. "Come on in, I'll see what I've got."
"Wow, he does smile," she said making her way into his apartment. "The boys down the hall say your scowl is chiseled into your face." She shot another smile over her shoulder.
Skinner just shook his head at her comment, and made his way into the kitchen.
Hopping down the carpeted stair to the sunken living area, she looked over all of his furniture, stopping on his stereo system, that was now playing Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.
"Well, you're in luck," he called from the kitchen. "I have exactly three eggs."
With the egg carton in his hands he met the girl half way to his front door.
"You're a life-saver," she thanked, taking the almost empty carton. "I'll replace these first thing tomorrow."
"Don't worry about it. They probably would have gone bad sitting in my fridge."
"Well, then you should be thanking me," she said playfully, backing towards the door. "I saved your apartment from smelling like rotten egg."
He actually laughed this time. "Well, then. Thank you, Miss ...?"
"Oh, Sloan. Sloan Bishop." She quickly extended her hand for him to shake. He took it, willingly.
"I'm-"
"Mr. Skinner," she got to it before he did. "I know." She smiled again, showing her teeth, and opened the door. "Well, I'll leave you alone. Have a nice evening."
"You too."
With a quick wave she disappeared into the next apartment. Skinner turned back to his apartment, and rested against his closed door. He had no idea he had such interesting neighbors. Hopefully with the time he had on his hand for the next two weeks, he would be finding out exactly how interesting they were.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Skinner, Mulder or Scully. They are owned by 1013 Productions and Fox. X-Files and all related characters were created by Chris Carter, and we still do not like him for killing off our beloved Krycek.
Sloan Bishop, along with the story, though, are mine. Read but do not hurt.
Timeline: Oh geminie Christmas ... I would have to say sometime in the 5th season, before the show jumped the shark. It doesn't exactly fit in any specific episode so yeah, whatever.
Anyway, enough of that mumbo jumbo crap, I hope you like! And please review!!!
* * *
The Assistant Director of the FBI, Walter Skinner, sank into his love seat with the clank of ice against a glass cup. He took a sip of the liquid and swished it around in his mouth. What he wouldn't give for a glass of gin, or rum, or anything with alcohol in it, but all he had left was warm lemonade and a half drunken liter of Pepsi. So Pepsi it was.
It had been a long day, and an even longer week. He sat quietly listening to the soothing sounds of Beethoven and ran the day back over in his head. He had finally gotten done with the pile of paperwork two of his agents had created for him. And then he was politely asked to take a couple weeks vacation while an investigation on those agents was conducted.
He was usually very protective of both Agent Mulder and Scully, but this time Mulder had gone too far, and he had managed to drag Scully along with him. Skinner wasn't sure what exactly Mulder had done. Whatever it was, it was enough to get the higher powers involved to make sure Skinner didn't find out about it himself.
But it didn't matter, he told himself. He would let Mulder handle this one on his own. And if he asked for help ...
Skinner took another long swig of his pop.
If Mulder asked for help, he wouldn't give it. But if Scully did ... he knew he would have to help. He had a soft spot for that redhead. Not in a romantic sense, but more as a father figure. Skinner worried for her well being while she stood next to Mulder. Mulder always meant well, but he managed to get in trouble every time.
A brisk knock on his apartment door brought him back to the present. He glanced down to his watch. 1:13am. Skinner sighed. If it was Mulder, he was going to shoot him. Pushing himself out of the loveseat, he forced his legs to bring him to the door and open it. To his surprise, it wasn't Mulder; in fact it was a completely unfamiliar face.
The woman that stood before him was young. Mid-twenties, if he had to guess. She looked like she had gotten in a fight with a bag of flour, and lost. But despite the white in her hair, across her face, down the front of her black tank top, and a large spot on her cutoff jean shorts, she was incredibly attractive. Her long legs were bare, right down to her red painted toes.
"I'm sorry it's so late," she started, pushing the hair falling out of her hair tie, out of her face, "but I heard music, and I saw your light reflecting off your balcony." She paused for a moment, realizing how strange that made her look. "Yeah, and that sounds really stalkerish. I live next door," she explained, pointing in the direction of her apartment.
"Is there something I can help you with?" Skinner asked not knowing what this girl was getting at.
"Oh, yeah. I wanted to know if you had three eggs I could borrow. See, there was this terrible accident, and well, the eggs didn't make it." And then she flashed him the brightest smile he had ever seen.
He couldn't help it, the corners of his mouth turned upwards into small smirk. "Come on in, I'll see what I've got."
"Wow, he does smile," she said making her way into his apartment. "The boys down the hall say your scowl is chiseled into your face." She shot another smile over her shoulder.
Skinner just shook his head at her comment, and made his way into the kitchen.
Hopping down the carpeted stair to the sunken living area, she looked over all of his furniture, stopping on his stereo system, that was now playing Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.
"Well, you're in luck," he called from the kitchen. "I have exactly three eggs."
With the egg carton in his hands he met the girl half way to his front door.
"You're a life-saver," she thanked, taking the almost empty carton. "I'll replace these first thing tomorrow."
"Don't worry about it. They probably would have gone bad sitting in my fridge."
"Well, then you should be thanking me," she said playfully, backing towards the door. "I saved your apartment from smelling like rotten egg."
He actually laughed this time. "Well, then. Thank you, Miss ...?"
"Oh, Sloan. Sloan Bishop." She quickly extended her hand for him to shake. He took it, willingly.
"I'm-"
"Mr. Skinner," she got to it before he did. "I know." She smiled again, showing her teeth, and opened the door. "Well, I'll leave you alone. Have a nice evening."
"You too."
With a quick wave she disappeared into the next apartment. Skinner turned back to his apartment, and rested against his closed door. He had no idea he had such interesting neighbors. Hopefully with the time he had on his hand for the next two weeks, he would be finding out exactly how interesting they were.
