From: khyber@citizensofgravity.com   
      
   TITLE: Master Of Reality   
   AUTHOR: Khyber   
   E-MAIL: khyber@citizensofgravity.com   
   DISTRIBUTION: Ephemeral, Gossamer, please ask for anywhere else.   
   RATING: NC17. Soooooo very NC17. Sex, drugs, rock and roll,   
   gratuitous use of internal voices and dumbass catchphrases.   
   CATEGORIES: SRH   
   KEYWORDS: Mulder / Scully romance, drugs, Barney Miller   
   SPOILERS:  Don't even start with me.   
   SUMMARY: Place it Halloween of season 3. (So, just after   
   "Pusher." Sigh... 'elephant shoes...') Mulder and Scully   
   accidentally eat pot brownies. Pot makes Mulder funny but   
   boring. Scully gets The Fear and gets really horny. They have sex.   
   There, now you don't need to read it.   
      
   Disclaimer: Remember kids, say no to drugs and/or making money off   
    of fanfic. Though if anyone has tips on how to do either, please   
   let me know.   
      
   Author's Notes: Fan-Fic Writer's Union (QC local #312) would like   
   to take this opportunity to remind readers that authors are not   
   artistically, legally, paternally, criminally, or in any other way   
   responsible for anything posted as "Halloween-fic."   
      
   Many thanks to bugs for beta services.   
      
   * * *   
   FBI Headquarters   
   X-Files Division   
   10:13 AM, 31 October 1995   
      
   Fox Mulder had dressed up for Halloween.   
      
   Specifically, he had two Easter decorations stuck to his chest   
   with little rolls of Scotch tape, and he was obviously waiting for   
   Dana Scully to apply that keen scientific mind and figure out the   
   punchline. Two tiny blue-nylon-fuzz plastic chicks, they'd come in   
   on a basket of chocolate eggs she'd lifted on the way out of the   
   Easter family church service in the spring. One had been perched on   
   each edge of the basket, facing each other across the chocolate   
   harvest, and there had been absolutely no cute paired symbolism for   
   her at all, not even for a moment. None. The little birds had since   
   been migrating around the office, hitching rides on staplers and   
   monitors.   
      
   And, now, they were taped to Mulder's chest. She didn't get it, and   
   told him so.   
      
   He pulled one off, held it at arms length, then pulled it back and   
   re-stuck it to his shirt, making an "eeeewwooop" sound, like he was   
   beaming the baby bird up.   
      
   It took Scully a couple of seconds before she told him it was   
   probably the saddest thing she had ever seen, sadder than last   
   year's "cereal killer."   
      
   He was thrilled with himself, naturally.   
      
   "Anyway," she announced, easing a Saran-wrap-covered paper plate   
   from its nonchalant hiding place behind her back, "I have   
   brownies."   
      
   "Hey, thanks, Scully. Where are these from?"   
      
   "There's a Halloween bake sale going on on the main floor," she   
   replied, neatly pulling off the plastic wrap. "If you didn't   
   automatically delete everything to 'all@fbi.gov', you'd be a more   
   successful scavenger."   
      
   "A bake sale? Does the FBI need to buy a new gun again already?"   
   Mulder took a big bite of one brownie. "Hmmm." They were a bit   
   crumbly, and had a suspiciously healthy taste.   
      
   "They're a little weird," Scully said, looking down her nose at   
   it, but eating it anyway. "I think there's zucchini or tomato juice   
   or something in them."   
      
   "Tomato juice?" Mulder grimaced.   
      
   "Yeah, you put it in devil's food cake. Makes it darker."   
      
   "Least it's not pumpkin. I guess it's technically still chocolate.   
   My inner caveman was starting to worry about surviving the winter."   
      
   "Or is it that chocolate love hormone thing talking?" Why am I   
   suddenly talking about chocolate love hormones? Scully   
   thought. You can't just hand Mulder straight lines like that;   
   he'll get lazy.   
      
   "You know, the sacred temple prostitutes of Teotihuacan..." he   
   drew the foreign syllables out with an obvious degree of   
   enjoyment, "used to wear headdresses with a cone of cocoa   
   butter and chocolate at the top, so it would melt over them and   
   increase their sex appeal."   
      
   "You're kidding." She sat down at her laptop, which was perched on   
   the corner of the desk that wasn't covered in the bureaucratic   
   version of an archaeological dig.   
      
   "Yeah, I basically pulled that out of my ass. Did I have you at   
   all there?" He looked hopeful.   
      
   "Not really. The distinct non-eroticism of greasy   
   chocolate melting in your hair is probably cross-cultural."   
      
   "Hmmm. Thanks. I'll work on that one." He pulled the blue   
   chicks off his shirt and stuck them to the top of his desk   
   lamp. Mulder picked up the memo he'd been studying before being   
   consumed with his Halloween sartorial preparations, read a random   
   paragraph once, and waved it at her. "Anyway, have you got any   
   better ideas for this? How can they expect brilliant minds like us   
   to organise our work in a way stupid people can understand? Can't   
   we get an intern to do it?"   
      
   "Well, Mulder, seeing as how our divisional budget covers   
   basically our salaries and pencils, probably not."   
      
   "Actually... I steal those pencils from the money laundering guys   
   when I go up to check the football pool. I'm hoarding the   
   divisional budget for the Christmas lunch. At the rate we're   
   going..." He nodded sagely and waggled a pencil at her, "it might   
   not even be drive-thru this year."   
      
   Scully resumed wading through her email while Mulder read the   
   memo one more time. Y'know, who cares, he thought. It wasn't   
   like they actually expected the elite X-files division to do it, or   
   like they'd ever check. Fuck it, in fact. All around, he was having   
   a good day. Scully's wearing the red pantsuit that makes her look   
   like a 40's movie star, I did a 32 minute 10K on the weekend,  got   
   some seriously cool new books at home, I'm totally baked...   
      
   That vaguely veggie taste had been distantly familiar, he   
   thought, and contemplated the brownie crumbs for a couple of   
   minutes while a pleasantly heavy feeling spread through his limbs.   
      
   The phone rang. At some point during the morning, Scully had   
   dragged it over to the far side of the desk, to "her" side. So,   
   the rules were, she had to get it. Mulder looked up at her. She'd   
   pushed her chair back about three feet and was staring blankly at   
   her computer screen.   
      
   "Mulder, can you get that? I just don't wanna... wow."   
      
   Scully watched as Mulder laid himself out across the desk, scooping   
   up the receiver. She'd been closer, and he'd knocked at least   
   thirty pages of files on the floor, but damn, this was one comfy   
   chair and she just didn't feel like leaving. And, Mulder rolling   
   around on the desk was, frankly, not entirely unappealing.   
      
   "Yelll-o. Mulder and Scully's.... um... Pizza Emporium.   
   And.. donairs. Skin-man! How you doin! Skinnerator! Uh-huh. Yep.   
   Yeah, I kind of figured that. You too? Seriously? A banner? That's   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)