Title: At it Again
Summary: An old colleague watches our favourite twosome interact in the bullpen
Rating: Slightly PG rating for language
Spoilers: Early season 1 to know who Tom Colton is, season 6 to understand the setting.
Disclaimer: The story is mine, the characters are not. Bummer.
A/N: Found this beauty on my old Mac with the smashed screen. I found a few, so I'll be posting them up here in their original, sometimes cheesy, sometimes awful glory.
They are fucking at it again. No one can tell me that he's not banging her, even if she's too beautiful for him. I'll admit, the 80s weren't good to anyone, and Dana being the nerd at the academy usually had her hair in some awful ponytail anyway, but now… now she's a babe.
Her hair is redder than I remember. I wonder if I'll ever get a chance to see if the carpet matches. Maybe I should just ask Mulder. He must know by now. Why else would she stay with such a crazy fuck?
I'm actually embarrassed to be stuck in the bullpen here with them, doing all this scut work. So much for Tom Colton, Mr. Hotshot Profiler. One screw up and they toss you out like yesterday's garbage. I'm good. I know I'm good. I just slipped up, that's all.
Besides, they think Mulder's so hot, look where he is now. That many years in the bureau and he hasn't moved an inch, and he's pulled poor Dana with him. I think she makes more than him though, being a doctor. I think I make more than the both of them. At least I hope I do. I ought to.
Jesus, now what is he doing? He's already had his chair turned around facing her desk for the past half hour. She's working on some paperwork and he's creating some sort of elaborate art piece with her paperclips and rubber bands, and she's quietly admonishing him like he's a little kid, sighing and swatting at his fingers.
Doesn't he have work to do? We've all got a quota on how many background checks we have to do per day. If word around the grapevine is correct, Kersh hates Mulder and will look for any excuse to bounce him out of here. Dana's probably covering up for him. She's too good for him. She'd do better with a guy like me. Once I'm done this punishment, I'm moving up. I've made some great contacts recently. I know my charm works on the ladies, and the guys? Forget it. I can hold a conversation on just about anything. Except little green men. Or grey, or whatever the hell Mulder said.
Scully is leaning in close and whispering something to him. Shit, he turned this way. God, I hope he didn't see me staring. If I look like I'm checking the clock… good. He's turned his attention back on her. I'm sure they weren't talking about me. If they were, they're probably surprised I'm here, down with the losers.
Back to background checking. I'm not missing my quota. In fact, I'll do a few extra, get a few bonus points in. No that I need it, but I want everyone to know how good I can be at anything I do. I'll be the next golden boy of the FBI.
No matter how long I work, I still see Mulder goofing off. He's not like the normal agents, who'll sneak in a game of solitaire or get busy in a dirty chat room or something. Instead, he's turned to her again and he's talking a mile a minute, using his hands and grinning a stupid grin, and she's smirking at him. I think she's trying not to laugh. He's working hard at it though, touching her hand to get her to look at him, making actions. I wish I could hear what he's saying, though I'm sure it's probably some more UFO bullshit. Maybe War of the Worlds, he saw it on TV last night and believes it to be true.
I'm watching him explain this crazy story, whatever it is to her, and she calmly reaches out and pushes away a strand of hair from his forehead. What the hell? His hair is so damn short she doesn't need to do it.
Which means she must be fucking him. I don't get it. What the hell would a woman like that see in a big nosed oaf like him? Is it the body? Because I could hit the pool once a day and get a body like that too. Big deal. Besides, there is no truth in the old wives tale that a tall guy has a big dick… I think. Anyway, she's so tiny, what does she need with a big one anyway. Not that I'm lacking. I'm pretty decent in that department.
She's talking to him again and he's watching her lips. Hell, I'm watching her lips too. Fuck, those red, pouty lips of hers… I could imagine them doing wicked things to my body. Oh man, has she done those wicked things to his body already? Jesus. What a waste of a perfectly sexy mouth.
Five o'clock rolls around and most of the bull pen is heading out. I'm going to squeeze in a few more calls, try to get back in the boss's good graces. The lovers are still at it anyway, not even noticing the people moving around them until one of them says goodnight to Dana. That's right buddy, not a single person here likes you, no one give a shit if you have a good night or not.
Finally, around six, when I'm on my last call, Dana gets up. She grabs her coat and her bag, and Mulder stands too. He leaves his stuff, however, but follows her out of the room, his hand heavy on the small of her back.
As they walk past me, I ignore the person on the phone droning on and listen to what they are saying.
"We could make it a weekend trip, I'm sure Kersh wouldn't mind us using personal time for FBI business."
"Will he expect us to use our personal money as well?"
"No, I'll put in a 302, no big deal. Hey, I mean, I won't write it up as an X-File. I'll just say we're examining some deaths. No big deal."
"Come on, Scully. You said you weren't doing anything this weekend, and your mom is off to San Diego, and I know for a fact you did your laundry last night…. Plus, hey, didn't your friend Ellen move to Detroit after her divorce? We could make time to see her if you like."
"Fine… fine, but we will see Ellen. I haven't seen my godson in too long."
"Deal. I'll put in the 302…."
I couldn't hear more after that. Jesus, a romantic getaway for them is investigating an X-File?
"Yes, yes, Mrs. Bloom, I'm still here. You say he what? He had sex in the washroom at work? Oh, well, yes, that is important information. Was he officially reprimanded?"
At least someone is having some real fun out there.
Ten minutes later, Mulder is back, enough time for him to walk Dana to her car and see her off. Why he's still here I have no idea. He gets back on his computer, doing some typing, some reading, some more typing. Then he just stares into space for a while, then starts tossing pencils into the air.
How did this guy get past a background check? Or a psych exam?
When my call is done, I hang up, make my notes, then shut down the computer. It's seven, and Mulder is still hanging around, now drawing doodles on a post-it on Dana's desk.
"Hey, Spooky. Plan on going home anytime soon?"
"Haven't you heard, Colton? They retired the old Spooky name."
"What, do they just call you crazy now?"
"No. Had to take the missus' name. Mr. Dr. Dana Scully, Special Agent."
My jaw nearly drops, but I recover pretty quickly. This guy is playing with me, I can see the fucking grin in his eyes even if his face is sleepy and bored looking.
"I'm sure Dana didn't want to be known as Spooky any longer. When is she going to ditch you for good?"
"Jealous, Colton? Hey, what's this I hear about you dropping the ball on that bank robber? He practically handed you his next hit and you missed him completely."
"Big talk from the guy stuck doing background checks."
"That makes the two of us."
He goes back to scribbling on the post-its on Dana's desk, and I realize he's not drawing, he's making jot notes. They're all addressed to his partner: 'Scully, I think if we check the record archives we'll get a better idea of the history here. I'm sure he's done it before, but I don't know when, how far back it goes.' 'Scully, I think you should check for raised levels of pleasure related hormones – dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin. I have a hunch.' 'I just found a really good Indian restaurant, if all goes well, we can eat there on Sunday before we leave.'
Does this jerk ever stop working? On his pay, I'd clock out right on time.
"Spending the night here, Mulder? Probably better than hanging out with the anal probing, three fingered, grey kind."
"You remembered their skin colour. Good job, Colton. Who knows, if things don't pan out for you here, you may have a career with the X-Files."
I have to scowl at that. "Fuck you, Mulder," I mutter, as I head out.
"No thanks, Colton. Maybe some other time."
Before I leave, I hear him pick up the phone. "Hey, Scully, guess who decided to chat me up tonight and proposition me? No, not her. If she did I probably wouldn't be calling you now. Okay, yes, I would be too chicken to go through with it. No, your good buddy Tom Colton. Think I missed my chance? Nah, he didn't seem too interested in you, he specifically invited me for the fuck. What are you doing anyway?"
That's all I listened to before I hit the elevator. He can have his phone sex with Dana. He can laugh all he wants at my expense. We both know that I'm going home to a nice high rise condo in my Beemer, while he sits at his damn desk avoiding stale pizza or chinese or sitting outside on his car with a burger watching the sky for lights.
What a weirdo. No matter what it looks like, Dana would never go for a guy like that. Maybe if I propositioned her…. Nah. Mulder looks like a guy who can swing a punch, and if there is anything he cares about as much as people from outer space, it's that gorgeous red-headed partner of his.
I think tonight I'll check out some of those dirty online chat rooms. I've got a great picture of me topless on the beach. The ladies will love it. No reason for me to spend the evening alone.