Title:  Chiggers
Author: Zuffy  
Email: zuffynuffy@yahoo.com 
Rating: I for Innuendo
Category: MSR
Spoilers: None, really
Moment:  Early season 7?
Date: September 2002 
Archive: Yes, but keep my name on it and let me 
know where it is, please. 
 
Synopsis: PWP
 
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully apparently still belong to Chris 
Carter, 1013 and Fox.  The chiggers belong to me.  Alas.



CHIGGERS

OK, it had been a wild goose chase, he was ready to admit it.  
Maybe it hadn't been the greatest idea to wade through a 
couple miles of amber waving grain to look for that crop circle.  
Still, the anonymous picture he'd received the other day had 
been so clear.  The geometry of it was so perfect. This was the 
one that would change her mind if she saw it with her own 
eyes.  

Hell, he'd never heard of a crop circle righting itself before.  
Was it his fault?  

Ok, so maybe they should have stopped for bug spray like she 
asked.  It's just that the forecast had been for rain, the kind that 
rolls in on black clouds with sick green edges and comes down 
like a waterfall.  He was testing the limits of her patience 
getting her to accompany him on the hike at all, much less in a 
downpour.  She would have drawn the line at rain, even though 
she looked so hot when she was soaking wet.  He'd never told 
her that, but he thought it.  Made him think of how she must 
look in the shower.

Phew.  Don't go there.  

On the East Coast mosquitoes sometimes got to you but there 
weren't those chiggers, not like in Kansas at least.  He leaned 
forward and absently scratched his ankle where a troop of the 
little devils had feasted.  "Ahhhh."  He couldn't help giving 
vent.  

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Scully shooting him a 
dirty look.  I apologized, didn't I? he thought.  We're both 
suffering.  He tried to keep the smirk off his face.  She 
wouldn't admit where she'd been bitten. She just held it 
against him that she couldn't scratch where it itched.  Go 
ahead, he thought, give it a go.  I won't mind.  Guys 
understand scratching.  He looked across the room but she'd 
returned to her reading.

She was tough, no question.

He'd seen her earlier, though.  She must have been really 
caught up in her case report, so she didn't even hear him 
coming. When he reached the open office door, there she was, 
her right hand cupping her left breast, her fingers lazily 
rubbing back and forth against the offending bite.  How long 
had it taken for his feet to become unrooted?  He'd backed 
down the hall and deliberately bumped into a filing cabinet.

One button too many was still unbuttoned over there.  He 
leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, a few 
pencils still dangling, their eraser tips like. . .  God, 
gotta stop thinking like that.

"Well, I'm glad one of us has time to daydream."  Her voice 
was as good at slicing as her scalpel.

"Hey, this is how I get my best ideas."

"Well, do you have any inspirations about the klepto ghost?"  
She held up a blurry photo.

"Are you doubting me?"  He put on his best pout and swung 
his feet to the floor.  "It takes time to cultivate the magical 
moment when all the forces come together and the prize is 
revealed."

She snorted.

Speaking of revealed, he thought, she must be wearing one of 
those flimsy bras today.  Silk maybe.  Something cool, soothing. 
Maybe not soothing enough, judging from the display.  Talk 
about your sensitive cones.  Zones. Whatever. God, is she tough.

Scully shifted in her chair and looked up with a loud sigh.  
"Gawking at me speeds the creative process, Mulder?"

"I wasn't gawking."

"Gawking is the polite term."

Hey, come on, he thought.  We're partners.  We help each other.  
Just give me a chance.  I bet I've got a lot more experience 
ministering to that part of the female anatomy than you do.  
None of it recent, unfortunately.  There was what's her name 
years ago.  Now that was a pair.  Il y a du monde au balcon.  
A crowd on the balcony, the only useful phrase he remembered 
from college French.  Too bad about the personality that went 
with that display.

Scully closed the file, centered it on the desk, and rose, 
smoothing her navy skirt and pulling her jacket off the back of 
her chair.  "I'm going to get some coffee."  

Likely story, he told himself.  More likely heading for a private 
stall and a good, satisfying rub.

"You want some?" she asked.

"Some?"  His mind was blank, the blood supply having 
suddenly taken a long detour.

"Coffee.  You know, black stuff with cream?  Sugar?"

"We're partners, Scully..."

"I'm well aware of that."

"I can help."  Oh, right, the subtle approach.  Good job.

"I think I can manage two cups of coffee."

"No, I mean with the other...  if you have, say, a problem, that 
needs scra... solving."

"That's what I've been hoping for all morning."

"You have?"  He braced one foot against the desk and sent his 
chair rolling backwards.

"Yeah.  Over on my desk."

"On your desk?"  On the desk?  Scully on the desk?  How did 
we move so fast?

"The file is on my desk."  She pulled her jacket tight across her 
chest and crossed her arms.  "I'll be back, Mulder.  Against my 
better judgment, but I'll be back."

Her heels clicked down the hallway and the elevator whirred. 
Mulder leaned back in his chair again and crossed his feet on 
the desk.  Chigger bites could last a week, ten days even, 
depending on the person.  Maybe she just hadn't been pushed 
to the brink yet.  There was still time.

End


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