TITLE:  Mulder Under-covered
AUTHOR: addicted2fanfic
EMAIL: addicted2fanfic@hotmail.com
CATEGORY: V
RATING: R, language
SPOILERS: Pilot, Fire, Detour, Demons
SUMMARY: Take a break from Requeim induced Angst, and return
to the UST of yesteryear. Towel-fic, Mulder POV
FEEDBACK: Sure! I write for my own enjoyment, and if
anyone else likes it, whoo whee. Advice and corrections too.
ARCHIVE: Really? Sure, just let me know.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, never were.
AUTHORS NOTES: At the end


MULDER UNDER-COVERED by addicted2fanfic

Leaning back in the vertical coffin the motel insists is a shower, the crown
of my head thumps the wall, the spray streaming down my chest, wetting but
not cleansing. I hit my head against walls often enough in these cases.
Doing it myself, rhythmically, helps me think. Knocks the details into
place.
What if Angie Berenson's coma is not the result of trauma, not caused by the
accident at all? Once she checks Angie's medical records Scully will know
what tests to order, which drugs could be masked by the legitimate
medications prescribed. Knew those copies I made would be useful.
I quickly rinse off, ducking under the shower to get the shampoo out of my
hair. Shit, Scully will never find Angie's records. I stuck them in the
Costanza file so the nurse wouldn't see.
I grab a couple of towels, swipe at my hair with one and wrap the other
around my waist. I'm bending over the chair, opposite the door, diving into
the case holding the test results. Where in the hell is that folder? Hmm, a
knock at the door.
"Mulder, it's me."
"C'mon in."
Looking over my shoulder I see Scully walk in. Her attention is drawn to a
car back firing outside as she shuts the door. Aha! There's the Costanza
file.  This bureau assigned case is garbage, a waste of time. We should be
working on Angie's case and those classified medical research reports.
That's the case we really need to solve.
I hear her footsteps, and glance back to see Scully turned around, heading
out the door.
"Scully? What are you doing?"
"Mulder, this has got to stop."
"What?"
She sounds annoyed. I scan the room for some clue and finally spot a towel
on the floor. How'd that get there? Doesn't really cover my assets,
especially when the only one left is around my shoulders.
"You take casual Fridays too far, Mulder." She says dryly. "It's not
professional."
Still shuffling through Angie's file I mumble, "Depends on your profession."
Damn if I don't hold that towel around my waist it slips.
"I wasn't aware you are a regular model for Playgirl."
"Is that a smirk I hear Agent Scully?" Where is a
real bath towel? Shit, maybe if I put both towels
around me. Dammit. At least I have the file. I stand
up and turn to see how she's taking this. She's still facing the door. That
accounts for the strange timbre of her voice. She sounds, her voice has,
something, a strange tone. One I can't place.
"They told me not to quit my day job."
"This isn't funny Mulder." She is still looking at the door. "I have
brothers. I have autopsied male bodies. In my professional life I know the
male body in theory and in practice. I don't need
demonstrations from my partner.
"And in your personal life Dr. Scully."
"Mulder!" Jeez, she sounds pissed now.
"Awe, Scully, show and tell was my favorite subject in school. Besides, why
didn't Dr. Prim and Proper Scully say something before this?"
"You really want to know Mulder?"
"Enlighten me."
"The first time you were recovering from smoke inhalation. Your dress, or
rather undress, was understandable. You needed to get out of the clothes
permeated with smoke from your jaunt through the toasted hotel hallways.
And," her voices becomes lower, quieter, "I didn't think it was an
appropriate topic to discuss with my partner in front of a third party."
"Third party?"
"Inspector Phoebe Greene."
Oh that third party. "Yeah, you're probably right."
"After the Ketamine injections, you clearly were not"
she pauses searching for the right word. Scully tries not to call me crazy.
I think she's afraid it will come true.
". . . responsible. My concern then was the state of your mind, not your
state of dress."
"And not the last time you've had reason to be concerned either, Scully." Iam chagrined at the sad truth. I'm much too good at making her worry,
causing her pain.
She nods, but still doesn't face me. "What is it with you, Mulder? You fail
to get a reaction from me with the verbal teasing so you escalate to the visual?"
She pauses to collect her thoughts, weighing her words.
"What I am trying to say, is that your casual disregard for clothing while
we are in the field isn't appropriate. To me it means working with a partner
who doesn't appear ready to work."
Scully pauses, catching her breath. "Last time I checked the FBI policy and
procedures do not regard field work as a clothing optional zone."
"C'mon Scully, since when do we go by the book?"
What about the wine and cheese and mothmen huh, Scully? If I mention that,
she'll really kick my ass. Right now, with those shoes she's wearing, it
could be painful.
"Ironic, isn't it? I was the one who came to your room in my bathrobe on our
very first case." She doesn't sound quite so pissed now. She sounds almost
wistful. I remember how innocent and carefree she was. We laughed then.
"That was then, this is now." She's picking up steam again. "The last couple
of times I've come to your motel room about a case, even though I knocked,
just like today, you told me to enter knowing you weren't dressed."
Scully's not done dressing me down yet. At least she doesn't have far to go.
"You don't have any bumps that might be related to a case for me to inspect
either."
Yikes Scully! You really stepped into that one. It's all I can do to stifle
the rejoinder that leaps to mind. It takes all my effort to squelch the
thought that I do too have a bump. one I would love to have you inspect.
I bite the inside of my cheek. Hard.
"It," she stumbles, "it's not what I consider appropriate for the work we do."
There is something else going on here. The enigmatic Dr. Scully sounds,
flustered, ‘embarrassed'?  She's seen me before, and my behind, so
why this now?
"Our work requires our full attention, and faced as
we are with so many changing facts, scenes, and such, it is best to have
some things, a few things at least, the same. You, me, the clothes we wear
are in a way part of the job, part of the image we present to local law
enforcement, an image of professional capable agents.. ."
Scully is in full lecture mode now. What? Shit, I've lost track of what
she's saying. "Just not appropriate for our work, period." She finishes,
sounding as if  she is trying to convince herself too. She knows it's the
results that count.
Okay, so sometimes it's easier to get results if you look like you know what
you are doing. And, maybe I did know that this makes her uncomfortable. This
certainly isn't the reaction I was hoping for.
Where is a real bath towel? While Scully has been talking I have been
furtively looking for cover. Damn cheap place tries to pass off hand towels
for bath towels.
"Dammit, Scully, I am working. You know me; I'm always working, in the
shower, in the car, driving, lying in bed at night - turning the facts of the
case over, trying to find answers. It's what I do."  Softly I add, "Sometimes
I forget where I am, or even what I'm wearing."
No matter what I try these towels just don't do it.  Maybe the bedspread.
Laying Angie's file on the dresser, I grab the thin bedspread and wrap it
around my waist twice, throwing the remaining fabric over my shoulder.
"You can turn around now Scully. I'm doing a credible imitation of a Roman
Senator." At last, she turns to face me, but her gaze never meets my eyes.
"So you are, Mulder. Do you mean to tell me you were too preoccupied to
notice that you weren't dressed when you told me I could come in?" You mean
you can't believe that perfect memory Mulder can't remember his clothes, or
lack thereof?
Now that I can finally see her face, I can find out what else is happening
here. See anything you liked Scully?  She's not even looking at me! Her eyes
have gone to my feet.
"Look Scully, you're my partner, first and foremost. I need you to look at
those medical test results. I was looking for them when I got out of the
shower. That's all."
Is she gonna buy that? It's the truth. Well, part of it. If I could act
embarrassed, that might work. Bare assed sure didn't work.
"What test results?"
"Angie Berenson's blood chemistry panel."
"No, Mulder, no! Tell me you didn't steal Angie's medical chart."
Sighing I reply, "Okay, okay, I didn't swipe them. I copied them. Face it
Scully, Angie should have regained consciousness by now."
"You think she's being drugged?"
"Yes. And I think the blood panel might just show how. Except I don't know
what in the hell I'm looking for."
Scully walks over and takes the folder from the dresser. Neutral territory,
I guess, and heads for the door.
"I'll look these over while you get dressed."
Finally, she looks me in the eye, but I only nod.
Before she leaves I have to say it, "Scully?"
"Hmm?" She's already looking at the file. She stops and looks at me.
"I'm sorry if I appear unprofessional. It," with a deep exhale I continue,
"it won't happen again." I match my words with my best contrite look. I just
hope it will be enough.
Scully nods once, a sharp chop of her chin and heads out the door.
"See you in a few Mulder. A few more clothes that is."
She closes the door in the middle of my "Ha." That's all it rates Scully,
just a single ha.
Hmm? Scully, funny? Funny, Scully. Huh?
Fin

AUTHORS NOTES:
This would never have been finished without the encouragement of Fran and
beta by Mish. Thank you!
I watched "Fire" for the first time and was astonished at Mulder wearing a
bathrobe (and less) in a hotel room with Scully and Phoebe. Nothing like
that happened in later seasons. (At least that I saw!) Why? Maybe this is
the answer.