From: magsrose@comcast.net   
      
   Trick or Treat   
      
      
   Author: MagsRose   
   Email: magsrose@comcast.net   
   Category: Gen   
   Rating: PG 13   
   Summary: This is in response to a challenge that Meghan posted in   
   October 2004.   
   Disclaimers: Not mine. Nope. No matter how much I want them, I can't   
   have them.   
   Acknowledgements: Thank you to Amy Jonas who is my wonderful beta and   
   idea generator.   
   Feedback: Yes, please. It's nice to know that people read this stuff.   
   Notes: Here is proof that I can write a story without that bothersome   
   kid in it.   
   More notes: The challenge was to include the following elements in a   
   story:   
      
   Required elements:   
   1. An unusual costume choice (voluntary or not)   
   2. A kiss   
   3. Someone saying, "I can't believe you'd wear that"   
   4. Pumpkin raisin cookies   
      
   Bonus Optional elements:   
   1. Guinness   
   2. Scully kissing Frohike and she's in a skimpy costume   
   3. Doggett in a dance outfit   
   4. Getting arrested for public indecency or lewdness   
      
      
   "No, no, NO!"   
      
   "Come on," insisted Frohike. "Stop acting like such a spoiled brat!"   
      
   Langly turned to glare at the older man. "I'm not going to wear this."   
   He held out the costume with two fingers, keeping it as far away from   
   his body as possible.   
      
   Byers tried to placate the blond hacker. "It will only be for the   
   evening. No one you know will be there."   
      
   "You'll be there and all the Fibbies. I'm not doing this."   
      
   "Doggett needs a partner and you're the only one who'll fit in the   
   costume," Frohike pointed out.   
      
   "One of the girls can wear it."   
      
   "We've gone through this. The stakeout is tonight. The girls are all   
   too short and we don't have time to alter the costume. With all the   
   beads and sequins, it could take hours." Byers explained.   
      
   "You wear it," Langly said thrusting the Flamenco dress at Byers.   
      
   "I have a beard, you don't."   
      
   "You could shave."   
      
   "He's not shaving," Frohike insisted.   
      
   "Jimmy can wear it then," Langly said pointing at the younger man   
   who'd managed to stay out of the argument until that moment.   
      
   "I was willing to do it but I couldn't even get my arms in the sleeves."   
      
   "How convenient," Langly sneered making a face at Jimmy.   
      
   Unconcerned by Langly's attitude, Jimmy flexed a bicep. "Maybe you   
   just need to work out more."   
      
   Seeing Langly bristle at that comment, Frohike walked over to him and   
   picked the costume up off the floor where he'd dropped it. "Look,   
   what's it going to take to get you to do this, because we have no   
   other choice."   
      
   Langly sat down in the nearest computer chair. He continued to glower   
   at those standing over him. Sensing it was inevitable, Langly decided   
   to at least get something out of it. "Pumpkin Raisin Cookies," he said.   
      
   Jimmy and Byers glanced at each other. Byers shrugged turning to   
   Frohike. "What's he talking about?"   
      
   "That's what it's going to take to get me to do this," Langly   
   explained. "I want Fro to make me Pumpkin Raisin Cookies."   
      
   Frohike narrowed his eyes at Langly as if carefully considering this   
   request. "I don't know, buddy. Those damn cookies are messy and nasty   
   to make. Are you sure there isn't something else you'd rather have?"   
      
   "No, it's the cookies or nothing!"   
      
   Frohike motioned for Byers and Jimmy to join him in a private   
   conference. "You gonna bake him the cookies?" Jimmy asked when they   
   were far enough away to insure privacy. "I can help if you need it."   
      
   "No, that's okay," said Frohike. "Those cookies are not that difficult   
   to make. But don't tell him that or he'd be bugging me to make them   
   all the time."   
      
   Knitting his eyebrows together, Jimmy asked, "Then why are we over   
   here whispering?"   
      
   Frohike's lips lifted on one side in a lopsided grin. "To make him   
   think it's a tough decision."   
      
   All three of them turned to glance back at Langly who was holding the   
   Flamenco dress against his chest to check the fit. "I'm going to need   
   some fake boobs," he shouted to his three friends.   
      
   "And some padding for your ass," Frohike pointed out from across the room.   
      
   "What's wrong with my ass?" Langly said spinning around trying to get   
   a good look at his backside.   
      
   "There's not enough of it," Byers said, trying to be helpful. "Come   
   on, I'll help you get dressed. We need to leave in about an hour."   
      
   "What about make-up?"   
      
   "Yves's coming," Jimmy informed them. "She said not to let any of you   
   try to do his make up or he'd end up looking like a prostitute."   
      
      
   Agent Doggett was standing outside the nightclub waiting for the   
   Gunmen to arrive. Agents Reyes and Scully were already inside and   
   Mulder, dressed in a werewolf suit, had taken the place of one of the   
   bouncers at the front door. The costume party was for a very exclusive   
   clientele and his presence guaranteed them entrance into the club.   
      
   Doggett glanced at his watch. If the others didn't arrive soon…   
      
   A limo pulled up to the curb in front of him. The door opened and a   
   man in a Batman suit stepped out. He turned to help a woman in a   
   skin-tight Cat Woman costume. Agent Doggett did a double take. "Jimmy?   
   Yves?"   
      
   The man behind the mask smiled. "Yup, it's us."   
      
   Doggett stepped out of the way as the blue Power Ranger next climbed   
   out of the car. With the mask on, the FBI agent could only guess who   
   it was. "Byers?"   
      
   The blue super hero simply nodded.   
      
   Doggett suppressed a laugh. "I can't believe you'd wear that!"   
      
   Byers removed the mask. "It was supposed to be Langly's costume. He   
   didn't want it to go to waste. What could I do?"   
      
   "You could get the hell out of the way," a man complained.   
      
   The FBI agent recognized the voice but it in no way went with the   
   person he was looking at. The woman, who was quite tall, was   
   stunningly made up with a long black wig. The red sequined Flamenco   
   dress was made to match Agent Doggett's own costume. His high-waisted   
   pants and red jacket were not as opulent as his partner's dress but   
   the dance outfit was still amazing for the simple fact that it must   
   have taken hours to do the beadwork on the jacket alone.   
      
   Frohike came around the car. He wore a trench coat and a fedora and   
   looked very much the part of a 1940s private detective. "Langly," he   
   said in a low voice to his disguised friend, "you're supposed to be a   
   woman. Act like it."   
      
   Langly tripped over the hem of his dress. Agent Doggett grabbed him in   
   time to keep him from falling on his face. Langly straightened up   
   attempting to regain his dignity. He jerked his arm out of Doggett's   
   grasp. "Try to cop a feel again, G-man, and I'll stick a spiked heel   
   up so far up where the sun don't shine it will take a surgeon to   
   remove it."   
      
   Frohike moved in to tell Langly to cool off but Agent Doggett spoke up   
   first. "Thanks for doing this, Langly. These suspects were told I'd be   
   wearing this outfit and my partner would have a dress that matched. We   
   couldn't do this without you."   
      
   "Yeah, well…" Langly found it difficult to stay pissy when the object   
   of his disgust was being so polite. "You owe me big for this."   
      
   "Yes, I do." Doggett admitted. "Are you ready to go?"   
      
   "Hang on," said Yves to Langly. "You need this to complete the   
   illusion." She held out what looked like a retainer. Langly rolled his   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)