Title: Over the River and Through the Woods Author: Vickie Moseley Summary: Mulder and Scully are invited to share Thanksgiving Dinner with the Gunmen. Mayhem ensues. Written for the Virtual Season 11 Thanksgiving Day Special. Rating: PG Category: RST, BT, FA, MA, SA, humor Archive: Two weeks exclusive property of VS 11, then anywhere. Author's note: This piece is dedicated to my Sissy, who inspired much of the Gunmen's actions, especially the turkey. I hope she never sees this. A special Thanksgiving Day thank you to Sally for super fast beta work! Comments to vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com Over The River and Through the Woods by Vickie Moseley Cafeteria J. Edgar Hoover Building FBI Headquarters November 21, 2003 "You did what?" Scully cried out, then, realizing their location, lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. "Mulder, what on God's earth provoked you to tell Frohike that we'd go to their place for Thanksgiving?" Mulder looked quickly around the lunchroom, nodding and smiling as people went back to their noon repasts. Finally, he leaned over the table to keep their conversation private. "Scully, he invited us. What was I supposed to do?" he demanded, a bit wounded that she was taking this so poorly. "Well, for starters, you could have lied! You could have said we had somewhere else to go, a case, something," she shot back, still keeping to that raspy whisper. Under other circumstances that tone in her voice usually turned him on, but in the current situation, it was only giving him a mild headache, right behind his left eye. "Why in the world would you commit to something like that for both of us?" she continued, taking time out of her tirade to spear a cherry tomato out of her salad and shove it in her mouth. "Look, it won't be that bad. Besides, we'd already decided that you weren't going out to San Diego to Bill's with your Mom . . ." "Yes, I remember, Mulder. But I also remember us deciding to have a quiet Thanksgiving at my apartment, just the two of us," she countered. "Well, yeah, I remember that, too. But Scully, you should have heard his voice. You must have mentioned something about not going to Bill's because they dreamed this whole thing up so we wouldn't be alone on Thanksgiving." "It never occurred to them we might _want_ to be alone on Thanksgiving? That maybe, since they already know about our relationship, we might have other _plans_ on Thanksgiving, plans that include other uses for turkey basters," she shot back. "Oh, now you're just being a tease!" he cried out, then remembered too late to lower his voice. "What could we do with the turkey baster?" he asked, chewing on his bottom lip. "Like you're ever going to find out now, mister," she growled in return. "We're probably going to end up eating Frohike's chili and Langly's onion dip!" Mulder sat back, a set look on his face. "I already told them we'd be there. Let's just make the best of it." Scully blew out a deep breath and shook her head. "Fine. Are we supposed to bring anything to this . . . feast?" "Ourselves. Frohike made it very clear they were handling all the food." "Then I suggest we get a couple of Hungry Man frozen turkey dinners for when we get home Thursday night. I have a feeling you're going to be starving," she said with a glare. Thanksgiving Day Scully's apartment 5:45 am Mulder had his arms wrapped around Scully in a warm, comfortable embrace when the phone by her bed starting ringing and jolted them both out of a sound sleep. Mulder fumbled and finally grasped the offending object, handing it over to Scully before he flopped back into the pillows and pulled her closer to him. Now that he was awake, he tried to hear the conversation. It didn't take long for her to identify the caller. "Byers? Do you know what time it is?" she asked peevishly. Mulder closed his eyes and shook his head. "Yeah, I know a little . . ." Scully said hesitantly. Mulder gave her a questioning look, he could only hear her side of the discussion and now his curiosity had kicked in. "No, that's the neck, that much I know. . . Yeah, they cut the neck, clean it and then put it in the cavity. . . . I don't know why, they just do. People use it, for soup, for gravy stock, all sorts of things. Did you find the internal organs? No, the heart, the liver, the gizzards, those internal organs. They're in a bag and should be somewhere in there. You need to take that out before you cook the turkey. . . . Well, maybe that turkey didn't get a set. . . . I really don't think it's a conspiracy, Byers. Sometimes not all the parts get back in. . . . No, that is _not_ a 'professional assessment'! Now, please can you go back to your turkey and let us get some more sleep? Thank you. Yeah, we'll see you at noon, sharp. I'll tell him. Bye." She leaned over Mulder and put the receiver back on the cradle. "Tell me what?" he asked, nuzzling her hair as she got comfortable on his chest. "He thinks we should be investigating the missing gizzards. Could be some kind of cover up in the military-industrial- poultry complex. But he told me it could wait until Monday," she said with a sleepy yawn. "That was kind of him," Mulder smirked and settled back to sleep. 7:13 am The two were deep in the throes of a passionate, deeply erotic kiss when the phone rang again. Mulder growled loudly as he grabbed the phone and handed it to Scully. "Five will get you ten, that's Bill," he muttered, struggling to keep from pulling the cord of the phone out of the wall. "Langly, what's up?" Scully asked with forced cheerfulness. "I am! I am!" Mulder growled, biting her free ear. She swatted him away and concentrated on the person on the line. "No, it's supposed to look that way. Yeah, just like the can. I know, it is sort of freaky. Is it really glowing? Well, maybe it's just the lighting. No, Langly, there have been no reports of crop circles in cranberry fields. Actually, I think cranberries grow in bogs, not fields. They grow too far north for alligators. Well, I guess there could be swamp monsters, but I'm sure all that would be cleaned out in processing. Yeah, we'll be there at noon. Sure. Yeah. See ya then. Wait! Langly, the can wasn't bulging in any way, was it? That could be a sign of contamination and in that case, you should throw it out immediately! No, you can't use that for botox, there's a special refining process. Yeah, maybe you better. Bye." She hung up the phone again. "We won't be having cranberry sauce this year." "Ah, darn," Mulder said with a smoky look. "Wanta make it up to me, right now?" He flipped her over on her back, but not before taking the phone off its cradle. "Mulder, what if Skinner tries to call, or Mom?" "They can leave a voice mail," he purred and continued his soft kisses of her shoulders. "Oh yeah," she moaned in agreement. 9:30 am Mulder was shaving, Scully was in the shower when both their cell phones started ringing at once. Mulder neatly carved a nick in his right cheek before he was able to drop the razor and run into the bedroom to dig his phone out of his pants pocket. "Mulder," he said gruffly. "Better tell Scully her phone is out of service," Frohike said accusingly. "Nah, we just took it off the hook," Mulder replied with a smug grin. "What do you need this time?" "Is the lovely Agent Scully nearby?" "No, Frohike, the lovely Agent Scully is currently washing her hair in the shower, and I'm not man enough to call her out. Are you?" "Um, no," came the quick response. "I'll call back later." "What's the problem, Frohike. I might be able to help." There was silence on the other line for a minute. "Oh, OK. I guess. When a recipe calls for milk, what if you don't have the exact type they call for?" "Milk? All milk is the same, Frohike. What, you got skim milk or something?" "Yeah, something like that. Hey, just answer the question!" Mulder rubbed his chin, dislodging the small scab that was trying to form. "I would say you can use whatever milk you want. Now, do you guys think you can handle the rest of the morning by yourselves? I'd really like to get dressed." "Oh, yeah, sure. Thanks. We'll try not to bother you again," Frohike said hastily. "See you at noon." "See you then," Mulder said and closed the phone, laying it on the dresser. 11:05 am "Mulder, you don't even have your shoes on," Scully exclaimed, a basket of laundry on her hip. "I'm thinking, maybe we still have time to do something here," Mulder said, chewing his bottom lip. Scully could smell a rat. "They called while I was downstairs getting the clothes out of the dryer, didn't they?" she accused. "Scully, I'm getting really worried about this. I'm almost out of sick time and I really don't want to get salmonella for Thanksgiving." "What was the problem now?" she asked, nudging him over on the couch so she could sit down. Automatically, he started helping her fold the clothes. "Apparently Byers forgot to stuff the turkey." "That's not a problem. They can bake the stuffing in a casserole dish. It doesn't have to go in the turkey." "Byers insisted." "But he put the turkey in the oven at 6 this morning. That was hours ago. The turkey has to be pretty hot by now," she mused. "They were calling from the Emergency room." "Oh dear." "It's only second degree burns," he said, casually folding a pillowcase. "Well, that's good." "The doctor was dressing Byer's arm and they should be back at their place before noon." Scully looked over at him, meeting his eyes. "I suppose it would look suspicious if we suddenly had to run off on a case." "Suspicious, yes. Safer . . . definitely." "But Mulder, they've gone to so much trouble. And as you said, they're doing it for us. We really can't disappoint them now." "Besides, before today is over, they may need another doctor," he agreed with a heavy sigh. "We all might." Office of the Lonegunmen 12:05 pm Mulder rapped on the door and both agents waited patiently while at least 8 different locks were thrown back. Langly opened the door, waving them inside. Scully tried hard not to stare at the 'Kiss the Cook' apron he was wearing over his usual black Ramones tee-shirt. "Hi. Frohike's in the kitchen. Byers is resting," he said by way of greeting. "How's the turkey?" Mulder asked. "He'll be fine. Doc said it'd be healed in a couple of days," Langly shot over his shoulder. "I meant the bird in the oven," Mulder said dryly. "Maybe I better go check on Byers," Scully whispered to Mulder and headed off into the open room stuffed with computer tables and one lone sofa. Jon Byers was slumped on the sofa, his right arm bandaged and propped on pillows and a dejected look on his face. He barely glanced up when she sat down beside him. "Hi. How does the arm feel, Jon? Does it hurt much?" she asked tenderly. "No," he said with a glum expression. "They gave me a shot. It doesn't hurt." "Well, that's good. Did they give you medicine to stop infection?" "The doctor gave me some salve, told me to keep it dry and covered until the blisters break on their own. Then I can leave it unwrapped. But they didn't give me anything for infection." He finally looked up at her with suspicion. "Should they have given me something for infection?" Scully smiled. "Not necessarily. If it wasn't that bad a burn, it should heal fine on its own, as long as you follow the doctor's directions." "It's caused enough trouble already," Byers said with a sigh. "Jon, it was an accident. Don't worry about it. No damage done," she told him brightly as she patted his good arm. "I was doing everything just as the recipe said, step by step. How did I miss the part about putting in the stuffing?" he asked plaintively. "Jon, I'm sure it will be fine. Just rest now. You may think it's just a small injury, but your body needs to cope." "Thanks, Agent Scully." "Um, Scully?" Mulder was in the doorway, again chewing on that bottom lip. "Can you join us in the kitchen for a moment?" She patted Byers arm again and got up to join her partner. Mulder was standing a few feet from the counter, Frohike and Langly were staring at an object on the countertop. It appeared to be the shape of a turkey, but it was covered in a flaky substance that Scully was hard pressed to identify. "What's the matter?" she asked. "What's the matter?" Frohike hissed. "This damned turkey has the mange!" "Shhh, Byer's right in the next room, he'll hear you!" Mulder warned. "Mange?" Scully echoed. "Yeah, you know, the mange. When we were kids, my old man won me a puppy in a poker game. Darned dog had mange, that skin affliction that makes the entire skin blister off. We had to bathe it every day in this stuff that smelled awful. I'll never forget it. And that," he concluded, pointing to the bird, "is exactly what it looked like!" "I'm sure it's fine," Scully said with a good deal of trepidation. "He tried to do something goofy. Got it off the net," Langly said, picking up a sheet of paper and handing it to Scully. She scanned the paper, a recipe from the magazine Epicurious, and then handed it back. "Scully, what's wrong with the turkey?" Mulder asked impatiently. "Nothing. Nothing at all. It's just, uh, well, Jon decided to put a batter on it. To keep it moist." "That's batter? Like what, KFC extra crispy?" he mocked. "I imagine the concept is more in line with Beef Wellington, but suffice it to say it should not affect the flavor of the turkey meat. And you can always scrape it off," she told her partner, directing her words to Langly and Frohike. "Since Jon feels bad enough, I suggest we leave this discussion in this room, gentlemen. Eat the turkey and keep your comments to yourself!" She turned on her heel and left the room. Half an hour later, the five very hungry individuals sat down at the table to eat. Scully noticed that the plates were the higher quality paper plates and the silver was actually metal, a step up from the plasticware she was expecting. They'd even thought of napkins, she noted, as a she picked up the one sitting next to her plate and saw a cartoon Turkey smiling at her and begging her indulgence with the caption 'Eat more Pork!' Casserole dishes of various sizes crowded the table. Frohike arrived last, carrying the turkey, batter and all, on a tray. He set it down at his place and proceeded to carve off several slices. Mulder smiled and squeezed his partner's hand under the table. She'd been right, the inside looked better than the outside. For several minutes there was on the sound of metal scraping on glass and porcelain. Mulder grabbed the dish with the green bean casserole and took a heaping helping. With a wink to his partner he took a big bite, and choked. Covering quickly, he swallowed the contents of his mouth and drank half his water. "Um, guys, what did you put in the green beans?" he inquired, when he could find his voice. "That's the one you helped on Mulder," Frohike said proudly. "Oh, no, I had no part in this," Mulder protested. "Yeah, you did. Remember, I called you about the milk." "OK, I remember that, but Frohike, where in the recipe did it call for sugar?" Scully looked from Mulder to Frohike and down at her plate. Cautiously, she scooped up a bite of the casserole in question and tasted it. Smiling stiffly, she nodded, as if she knew a secret no one else did. "Frohike, you didn't have any fresh milk, did you?" "No," Frohike said and pointed a fork at Langly. "Blondie here had to use it all up making mashed potatoes." "So I take it you used canned milk instead," she offered. Frohike nodded proudly. "I called you guys. Mulder said milk was milk and I should use what I had." Scully smiled, again it was a bit strained. "That's true in almost every case. But you see, sweetened condensed milk is for . . ." "OW!" Langly yelled. "What the hell!" He poked a finger into his mouth and pulled out what looked like a piece of seashell. "About broke my damned tooth! What is this?" Byers' eyes went wide. "I thought, well, since Mulder's from the Vineyard, don't they serve oyster dressing up there, Mulder?" "Mom always shucked the oysters first," Mulder said quietly. Finally, it was time for dessert. Mulder had to admit, the turkey had tasted fine, despite the unsettling appearance. That had been a good thing, because nothing else was edible. He was terrified of what these three would do to a harmless pumpkin and almost expected a can of shaving cream as an accompaniment. Langly brought the pie to the table and, much to Mulder's relief, a tub of Cool Whip brand topping. Mulder and Scully exchanged glances. The pie looked good, but then, so had the green bean casserole. Langly took no notice. He was slicing up the pie and serving it with a big dollop of topping. When the pie landed in front of Mulder, he stared at it for several minutes. He wasn't just being polite, waiting until everyone else was served. There was no way he was going to be the one to test the pie. Frohike, oblivious to his guests' concerns, dug into his pie with relish. He opened his mouth, consumed the forkful of custard, crust and whipped topping, and closed his eyes in blissful appreciation. Seeing that Frohike hadn't keeled over, Scully tried a bite. She, too, nodded happily. "Langly, this is fantastic! I've never tasted better pie!" Mulder wasn't entirely convinced and searched his partner's face for any hint of deception. Finally, he tried the pie and was happily rewarded. "Langly, you get the prize. This is great pumpkin pie!" "Yeah. Ya gotta love Baker's Square," he said, beaming. At Frohike's glare he bristled. "Hey, you said 'make a pie', but why make a pie when you can buy a pie like this?" Mulder finished off his piece of pie in record time and looked longingly at the 3 remaining pieces in the pie plate. "Go ahead, there's another one in the kitchen," Langly cajoled. "Great!" Scully piped up, scooping herself up another slice. Mulder and Scully insisted on doing the dishes, since the other three had cooked. After dinner, everyone sat down to watch the second half of the Green Bay/Detroit football game. When the game was over, Mulder nudged a sleeping Scully and nodded toward the three conspiracy theorists. Frohike, Langly and Byers were all sound asleep. "Isn't that sweet. They're all tuckered out," he whispered. "Quick, now we can make our escape!" She giggled and Frohike awoke with a snort. "Oh, damn, sorry. Must have dozed off there." "That's fine, Frohike. We were just getting ready to head out," Mulder said with a smile. "Hey, wake up! They're leaving!" Frohike shouted at the other two, who drowsily lifted their heads to squint in his direction. "Oh, gosh, so soon?" Byers asked. "Yeah, tomorrow is a heavy shopping day," Scully reminded him. "Mulder will need his beauty sleep to help me carry all those packages," she added with a sly grin. "Thanks so much for dinner, guys. It was, um, quite an experience!" "Hey, don't mention it," Frohike said with a blush. "We won't," Mulder said confidently. Scully's residence 5:45 pm The message light on the answering machine was blinking when they walked into the apartment. "Oh, darn, I bet I missed Bill and Tara's call," Scully whined as she hung up her coat. "This day isn't turning out half bad," Mulder muttered quietly. Scully pretended not to hear him and hit the button for playback. She was surprised when it wasn't Bill or Tara, but Langly's voice that greeted them. "Hey, I just thought I'd warn you guys. Fro's been in the toilet since you left and Byers is complaining of stomach cramps. We can't pin down the source, but, well, you never know. Just thought I'd clue you in. Have a great night!" Mulder turned to a stricken Scully and forced a grin. "At least we have three days to recover!" the end. Recipe for Green Bean Casserole 2 cans or (or one package frozen) green beans 1 can condensed cream of mushroom soup 1 can (fill the soup can) milk (fresh milk, whole, 2 percent or skim) 1 can (approx. 12 ounces) French's Fried Onions. Combine green beans, soup, milk and half can of onions in a casserole dish, bake a 350 degrees (F) for 30 minutes, top with remaining dried onions and bake for an additional 5 minutes.