Title:  I'm Gonna Kick Their . . .
Summary/Spoiler:  Well, it's a post ep for Three of a Kind and it
makes a reference or two to The Unnatural, but there really aren't
many spoilers till the very end.
Category:  V H MSRish (but just barely)
Rating:  G
Disclaimer:  Mulder, Scully, Langly, Byers, Frohike all owned by
10-13.  Wish I did own them.  Wish I'd written this ep.  It was
wonderful!
Archive:  Yes, please
Thanks, Susan, and I'll forgive the 'brain freeze' this time <G>

I'm Gonna Kick Their . . .
by Vickie Moseley


She hadn't said a word to him about it on Friday, so Mulder was
understandably confused when he received the message on his
answering machine Saturday at noon.  

"Mulder, come to my place, eight o'clock tonight.  Bring a red
wine and I'll let you pick the movie."

He smiled, wiping the still cooling sweat from his late morning run
off his body.  His mind flickered back to the mysterious phone
message he had left on his partner's answering machine just three
weeks before and he decided he'd better hit the showers.  There
was no telling what he was in store for when night came.

It was precisely eight o'clock on the dot when he pulled up in front
of Scully's apartment building.  He grabbed the bottle of merlot and
winced as he remembered the few coins he'd received in exchange
for the newly minted twenty dollar bill he'd given the cashier at the
liquor store.  His little 'excursion' to the batting cages with Scully
had only cost him a ten spot.  Scully's had already set him back
twice that amount.  But he had a feeling, whatever she was up to,
the little extra expense would be worth it.

He approached her door and detected the faint smell of fresh paint. 
Glancing around the hallway, he was careful not to touch the walls
or the door casing.  He knocked light on Scully's door and in a
moment, she opened it.

The smile on her face was worth a hundred dollar bottle of wine, he
chided himself.  He was returning that smile when the full extent of
the paint smell hit him square in the nose.

"Been redecorating, Scully?" he asked innocently, as she divested
him of the bottle of wine and ushered him into the living room.  The
living room which now sported walls of a light green color, where
before they had been cream.  The carpet, which never looked dirty,
almost shone with a brilliance.  He noticed that the candles she'd
set on the table by the window flickered back like diamonds on the
freshly polished glass surfaces.

"You been replaced by one of the rabid cleaning women," he
blurted out and was relieved when Scully chuckled in reply.

"Not quite, Mulder.  But it's nice that you noticed.  I didn't think
you ever took the time to notice whether a room was clean or dirty. 
At least, your desk would never give a clue that you do," she said
with a playful grin.

"Now, Scully.  Be nice.  I brought 'good' wine," he reminded her
and she gave him a nod in apology.  

"Have a seat.  I'll get some glasses.  Dinner isn't quite ready, but I
expect it will be out of the oven in a few minutes.  Why don't you
pick out some dinner music?" she directed and went off to the
kitchen to retrieve the glasses.

Mulder flipped through her selection and found something classical,
then started up the stereo.  When he turned around he found her
placing a beautiful silver serving tray on the coffee table, complete
with wine glasses, wine bottle in a matching silver ice bucket, and a
silver vase with a single red rose.

"Uh, Scully.  You hit the Power Ball and not tell me?" he asked
nervously as he proceeded to sit gingerly on the sofa.  

She chuckled again, pouring wine into a wine glass that sparkled in
the low lighting.  "Oh, this old stuff?  I inherited from my
grandmother.  I hardly ever use it because it's such a pain to polish. 
But I thought it would be nice to take it out, give it a spin tonight."

He sipped his wine and relaxed again.  Smells were coming out of
the kitchen that were causing his mouth to water and his stomach to
growl.  "So, what are we having for dinner?"

She smiled and sipped her own wine.  "I haven't the foggiest.  But
it smells heavenly, doesn't it?"

Now, Mulder was really confused.  "Scully, if you cooked it, how
could you not know what it is?" he demanded, but before she could
answer they were interrupted by a throat being loudly cleared from
the kitchen doorway.

"Dinner . . . is served.  Madam."  

Mulder's mouth dropped several inches when he realized the man in
the black tux with white tie and tails was actually Langly.  Langly,
who considered tieing his shoes to be formal attire, was dressed to
the nines and looking for all the world the part of a high class
maitre 'd.

"Shall we?" Scully asked, holding out her hand to Mulder. 
Recovering from his shock, he quickly took her hand and helped
her to her feet.  Together they moved into the kitchen.

The table was set with china Mulder had never seen before.  Silver
that he could use as mirrors were at each of two place settings. 
The tablecloth, immaculately white, was starched and ironed, as
were the napkins, which were folded in what he vaguely
remembered as the swan design.

"Would the gentleman care for lemon in his water?"  Mulder's neck
almost spasmed as he jerked it up to find Byers standing in a white
waiter's uniform, a plate of sliced lemon and a set of serving tongs
in his hands.

"Um, yeah, sure," Mulder said with growing concern and glanced
over at Scully.  She was enjoying his reaction almost as much as she
was enjoying all the pampering.  Byers deposited lemon slices in
both water glasses, then adjourned back to the counter in the far
corner of the kitchen.

Mulder was about to ask his partner what the hell was going on
when the final member of the terrible trio entered from the hallway,
carrying two covered dishes.  He deposited one in front of Mulder,
the other in front of Scully, and then whipped the covers off to
display something that Mulder thought had to be chicken with an
orange colored glaze.  Fresh steamed green beans and a wonderful
smelling rice pilaf graced the plate, which was garnished with
parsley and julienned raw celery and carrots.

Mulder blinked up at his old friend Frohike, with a questioning
look.

"Duck l'orange.  Specialty of the house," the little gnome smiled
and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Thank you, Melvin.  You, Ringo and John can retire to the other
room.  We'll ring when we're ready for dessert," Scully addressed
the two men, who quickly scurried off to the living room.

Mulder studied his partner in the glow of the candle light.  She
seemed the same.  Her hair was the same, her make up perfect, as
always.  He recognized the sweater, knew the slacks she was
wearing.  Her cross was in place.  But something entirely strange
was going on.

She was already working on her duck when she looked up and
noticed he was staring.  She put down her fork and stared back.

"Come on, Mulder.  If you don't clean your plate, you don't get
dessert.  Besides, your duck is getting cold," she scolded.

That was enough to convince him that if she _was_ an alien clone,
she was doing a damned good imitation of his partner.  He
shrugged to himself and proceeding to dig into the food on his
plate.

It was fantastic.  Mulder had once before had duck l'orange, but
he'd been a teenager and hadn't developed the taste to appreciate
it.  The green beans were done to perfection and he almost asked
for seconds on the rice pilaf.  He couldn't remember getting a meal
that good in any of the best restaurants in Boston or London.

"That was great, Scully.  Absolutely wonderful.  Thank you," he
said, wiping his mouth in appreciation.

"It's not over, yet, Mulder," she smiled over the candles at him. 
She wiped her own mouth delicately, then placed her napkin
daintily on the table.  She reached over and picked up a small silver
dinner bell and rang it twice.

Langly appeared immediately in the doorway.

"We're ready for dessert," Scully said cheerfully and Langly
clapped his hands twice.  Mulder heard footsteps in the hall and
then turned to see Byers clear the dinner plates away.  He stepped
back to the counter and all eyes were on the doorway.  There, with
the darkened hallway as backdrop, Frohike appeared carrying a
perfectly domed mound of white topped with a blue flame.

"Flaming Baked Alaska, just as Madam ordered," he said
dramatically, as he placed the dish on the sideboard and doused the
flame in a syrupy liquor.  He sliced into the mound with a serving
knife and placed a good sized piece on each of two dessert plates. 
Byers then carried the plates to the table and placed them in front of
Mulder and Scully.

"Baked Alaska.  Cute," Mulder said with a grin.

"It was just too good to pass up," Scully admitted and returned the
grin in kind.

They finished the meal in silence.

When the dessert plates were cleared, Scully waited for Langly to
hold her chair.  Then she lead Mulder out to the living room.

"You brought the wine, Mulder.  The movie choice is yours.  Just
try to keep it a little less gory than your usual fare," she teased
good naturedly.

He shook his head, grabbed the first title he saw in her video library
and settled back on the sofa to watch the opening credits to
'Witness' with Harrison Ford and Kelly McGinnis.  He knew it was
one of his partner's favorite movies.  Almost immediately, he felt
her snuggled close to him, and he put his arm around her, but not
before glancing around to see if the three Lone gunmen were
watching.

"They're busy," Scully said, in answer to his unasked question and
never taking her eyes off the television.  "Want some popcorn?"

"No, I'm stuffed," Mulder said with a groan.  "And 'they're busy'? 
Doing what?"

"Oh, stuff.  The dishes, for one.  Putting the silver back.  Polishing
my shoes, dusting the top shelf of my closet, regrouting the
bathroom . . ."

"Regrouting the bathroom?" Mulder asked in confusion.  "Scully,
what the hell has gotten into them?  Or you, for that matter?"

Scully's smile was almost imperceptible, but Mulder could feel her
amusement coming off her in waves.  "Let's just say this will be the
_last_ time I get tricked into running off to Vegas," she said
discreetly.

From the hallway, a quiet chorus returned, "You got that straight!"

the end.
Vickie


"When you start, you make certain choices, and those choices accumulate and
create a number of [other] choices.  The story starts to tell itself, and
that's been very exciting in a way.  There's so much that has come and been
told that you are, in a way, a slave to the facts you've created, and it's a
really fun way to tell stories.  That's not to say it's simplified.  In fact,
it becomes complicated, but it all starts to make sense, and that's been a
really wonderful thing."

Quote from Chris Carter on development of The X Files