Title: Birthday Girl (or Things That Make You Go "Ewww")
Author: Eileen S. Whipple
Rating: PG
Classification: an attempt at H
Spoilers: small ones for "Pusher", "Never Again",  "Small 
Potatoes" and "Dreamland II"-you need not worry if you haven't 
seen them.
Summary: Scully at a party with alcohol and Frohike...what 
could happen?
DISCLAIMER: Chris Carter, Master of the Universe (like He-Man) 
owns all these characters and I'm just using them (dance, puppets, 
dance!). I am not making any money (I wish) so here's a raspberry 
for you, CC. :p

Author's Notes: This is an improv fic for Youthfic and its idea 
was conceived late one Saturday night. I was given these five 
things--a goose-down comforter, a size 9 14-hole black pair of 
Dr. Martens filled with red Skittles, a Depeche Mode record, a 
silver-bladed light saber and a picture of Scully. I had to write 
them into a story and I did. This is my first real challenge since 
I only had a week to do this so I got the idea and went with it, no 
matter how much I hated it and doubted myself. And to the people who 
gave the elements, you are EVIL!! :) Here we go...

February 23, 1999

"Nice birthday present," Special Agent Dana Scully muttered. She 
knocked on the door in front of her.

"I'm coming, Scully."

It was her thirty-fifth birthday and her partner Fox Mulder had 
invited her out to dinner as her present, their tradition for the 
past few years. She'd gotten ready, only to receive a call from 
Mulder saying he was running behind schedule and that he wanted 
her to come by his place. They were to head to the bar and grill 
from there.

She rapped on the wooden door again and heard footsteps on the 
other side. "Scully," she heard before she came face to face with 
her partner. "Happy birthday." Mulder smiled.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked impatiently.

"Just come in for one minute." He pulled her into his apartment.

"It looks like you're ready." All the lights were out and Mulder 
was completely dressed.

"Just go sit in the living room." He pushed her gently before 
reaching to switch on the light.

"SURPRISE!" A bunch of people jumped out. "Happy birthday, Scully!"

She was startled but flattered. She'd never thought Mulder would 
throw her a surprise party. His apartment was tidy with tables of 
food in the living room. Had he actually cooked?

Scully saw the Lone Gunmen, Mulder's friends. Melvin Frohike was 
grinning as he walked over and gave her a big bear hug. She forced 
a smile and had to stop herself from shuddering.

"Thank you, Frohike." She pulled away. "Mulder, this is so sweet. 
You shouldn't have done this." She scanned the room. "I don't even 
know half these people."

"They're from work." He took her coat off for her. "Well, I made 
this food so enjoy."

Scully looked back at one of the tables near his desk and saw a pair 
of black Dr. Marten boots. They were filled with red Skittles. Lone 
Gunmen Numero Dos--Langly--put his hand. "My idea but don't worry. 
They're new. They're size nine, so you can have them after. If they're 
too large, they have fourteen holes so you tie them nice and tight."

She nodded. "Thanks." She went and took a handful of the candies.

Lone Gunman Number Three--Byers--was in charge of the music; he had a 
stereo set up, complete with a turntable. He took out a record and 
put it on. It was Depeche Mode. Luckily, there were other records. 
She wasn't fond of Depeche Mode but she was determined to have a 
good time, no matter what.

"Scully, have a drink." She whirled around to see Frohike holding 
two plastic cups. "It's cranberry punch."

She reluctantly took one. "This is good," she said after taking a 
sip. "Did you make this?"

Frohike nodded. "Just for you."


Scully was on her sixth glass of Frohike's delicious cranberry 
punch. He was drinking his ninth.

"Mulder," Langly said, "there's alcohol in that punch. Frohike 
never told Scully that, and I'm not sure if he forgot."

"Is he bad when he's drunk?"

"Not really. What about Scully?"

"Um, I think she just talks a lot."

The party was in full swing so Mulder hoped nobody would notice 
if a couple people were drunk but unfortunately, one was the 
birthday girl.

Frohike drained the rest of his drink and got up for more. "Wan' 
another, Scully?" he slurred.

"'Kay, Frohike." She wasn't slurring her sentences yet. "Mulder, 
is Skinner coming?"

"No, Scully. I didn't invite him. I'm sorry."

She managed to pull herself to her feet. "Frohike, jus' hol' onna 
my punch. I've got to use the washroom." She started walking, her 
hand skimming the wall. She was trying not to fall over.

When she disappeared around the corner, Frohike put the cups down 
and picked up a foil-covered breadstick. "Everybody, look. Iss my 
silver-bladed light saber." He was wasted.

Byers got to him first. "Go sit down, Frohike. You're making a fool 
of yourself."

He frowned. "'Kay. I'll sit." He took the breadstick and sat on 
Mulder's leather sofa. He peeled back the foil and started nibbling 
on it.
		*	*	*	*	*
The party hadn't been too wild and now, it was dying down. Guests 
were leaving and asking Mulder where his partner was. He couldn't 
lie; she was still in the bathroom. She was probably leaning into 
the toilet bowl and vomiting.

Frohike had started to sober up but he wasn't out of the woods yet. 
<Where'd Scully go?> He stood up and slowly walked towards the 
bedroom, where the bathroom was located. He received strange looks 
from Mulder.

The bathroom door was ajar. Light crept through the crack. "Um, 
hello." When he didn't get a reply, he knocked gently and the door 
creaked open.

Scully was asleep on the floor. She'd probably passed out from 
being drunk. Frohike knew he should have warned her about the 
liquor in the punch. He put nearly two bottles of white wine in 
it but the cranberry juice had covered the taste. It was only fair 
he took care of this problem: Scully couldn't spend the night on 
Mulder's bedroom floor, although she looked cute curled up around 
the toilet.

Frohike bent down and nudged her. "Scully," he whispered. "I'm going 
to take you somewhere else to sleep." She gave a small groan when he 
lifted her up. His legs were shaky as he carried her through the 
doorframe.

"Frohike, where are you?" Mulder asked as he turned into the bedroom.

"Shh, Mulder. Scully passed out on the bathroom floor and I don't 
think she's moving tonight. I'm putting her in your bed." He put 
Scully down slowly on Mulder's waterbed and pulled the leopard-print 
sheets over her.

Mulder went to the closet. "She's going to get cold. Put this on 
her." He pulled out a goose-down comforter.

Frohike took the blanket and carefully placed it over Scully. She 
remained sleeping soundly.

"Mulder, just go call me a cab if Langly and Byers have left." He 
looked back at Scully and brushed a stray wisp of her red hair off 
her face. He heard Mulder leave the room.

This was the closest he'd ever been to Scully, the woman who he'd 
considered his goddess a few years before. Now, they were just 
friends even though he still thought she was so beautiful.

She looked so gorgeous asleep. He wished he had a camera, of any 
kind. However, he didn't want her to be frightened if she woke up 
and found him looming over her with a video camera.

Frohike walked to the doorway. "Hey, Mulder, do you have a camera?"

"Why?" he called from the kitchen. "I have an Instamatic in my bedside 
table's top drawer. I don't know why you want it though."

<Why do you have it in your bedside drawer?> he thought as he rummaged 
around. He found a large Polaroid camera but left the photos beside 
it alone. He switched the camera on.

"Work with me, Dana," he whispered before snapping a picture. Scully 
didn't budge. Frohike smiled triumphantly as the photo came out of 
the camera. He waved it around, waiting for it to develop fully.

Once it was clear, he started to laugh. He hadn't noticed it before 
but Scully had drool on her chin.

Frohike went out to show his friends. Mulder chuckled. "She usually 
does that in her sleep."

The other Lone Gunmen found Frohike's picture of Scully amusing as 
well. "Nice blackmail material," Langly pointed out.

Frohike opened his vest and slipped into his pocket. "I'll keep this 
close to my heart...then, I'll use it if Scully doesn't agree to go 
out for dinner. I owe her for getting her drunk."

"But taking her out for dinner?" Mulder frowned. "She won't care 
if you have the picture. She'll still say no."

"We'll see."


February 25, 1999

Scully heard a knock at her door. She trudged to answer it, 
hoping it wasn't somebody from work. She'd taken the day before 
off to recover from her drinking experience and waking up in 
Mulder's bed. "Never again," she groaned, remembering how she 
looked in the mirrors above his waterbed. She opened her door 
slowly. 

There stood Frohike. "Hey, do you want to go to dinner? My treat 
to you as an apology for what happened the other night."

"No thanks. I don't want to."

He pulled something from his vest's inside pocket. "I think you 
do. I'd like to show you something." 

END

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Quit staring at me. I'm fine! What were you expecting?
Talk to me: whipples@connect.ab.ca