Summary: You really don't want to go there. Trust me.
Pairing: You really don't want to know.
Rating: Sigh. Well, not NC-17....but definitely not for the kiddies.
Archive: Only here at RatB. Mind you, it may not seem like it fits the requirements at first, but trust me!
WARNING! LISTEN UP! You are not to do this to me any more! You understand? If I get one more dare-type suggestion in this "area", I will put you all on report. So there!
RAISON D'ETRE: Gaby. This one is all Gaby's fault. She nagged me for it until my Muses—totally ignoring *MY* wishes (Like who the hell am I, eh? Only the bloody secretary?)—insisted on coming up with this one.
So, if this one also sends you into therapy, send Gaby the bills.
Oh, yeah: Disclaimer. Two Someones own them all. But I doubt that either of those would want to claim these.

"Hey, Will, shhhhh. Come on, kid. I know it's a shitty world these days, what with your mother off with Dumbo-Ears and you teething. But, hey, give me a chance, eh?"

Mulder stooped over to pick up his shrieking son. Damn. Of all times for Scully to be out of town! Will had some back teeth cutting in and the kid wasn't happy about it. Hell, neither was he! Why did these things have to happen at three in the morning? Was there some teething rule book somewhere that said kids could only feel pain in the middle of the night?

He held Will close, offering him a finger to chew on as they made their way downstairs to the den and the tv. Crooning to his son, Mulder found the tape that was Will's favourite of the moment and stuck it into the VCR. A couple of hits on the remote and he kicked back the Lay-Z-Boy in hopes that between the gnawing and the program, Will would calm down and maybe they could both get some sleep.

"At this rate," Mulder said, "you're going to be as addicted to this chair as I was to my couch. Damn, but I still miss that couch. Wish your mom hadn't made me get rid of it. So what if it was battered and uncomfortable? It was only uncomfortable for sitting."

The opening credits came on but Will ignored them. He was too caught up in his own existence to care about the differences between Big and Small, Top and Bottom.

Gradually, however, his father's finger seemed to be easing the sharp pain in his mouth and his attention began to wander over to the television.

Mulder yawned. Will had finally settled down. It had only taken 40 minutes this time. He'd give it another few minutes before chancing it and taking the kid back up to his bed. Mulder yawned again. Between Will and his writing, he hadn't been getting as much sleep as he should. Funny how a couple of years ago, he could have gone all night and barely noticed it the next day.

"Getting old," Mulder whispered to Will before he nearly dislocated his jaw on the next yawn.

"Sunny day...chasing the...clouds away. Come on down...to where...the air...is sweet..."

Mulder looked around him, a little stunned to recognize just where he was.

What the hell...Oops! Kids' show, he thought. Heck. No hells here. Only hecks.

What the heck was he doing here?

He looked around. The place was empty. No one about.

That didn't stop him from recognizing a certain staircase and stoop. With a light step—after all, what was this but yet another X-File?—humming the theme song under his breath, Mulder went to sit on the second to top step. He leaned back on his elbows and looked around. That's when he became aware that he was wearing his windbreaker and that there was a package of something in one pocket. He slipped his hand in and pulled out...

"A bag of sunflower seeds! Now when did I stash this in my pocket?"

There was, of course, no one to answer him.

With a grin, Mulder worked the bag open and tossed a couple of seeds into his mouth. With practised skill, he extracted the nutty meat and spat out the casings into his hand. A quick look around and he shoved them into his pocket. He'd have to remember to trash them before he got home. Scully did not appreciate their appearance in the wash.

Not, thought Mulder, that she did a lot of that these days, now that she had returned full-time to work.

He took a moment to feel sorry for himself and then shook it off. He tossed another small handful of seeds into his mouth. Not, he thought, like he hadn't done his own laundry before Scully and Will. Just that now there was more of it.

"Still, " he said to the air, "not a bad return for Will and Scully."

"What Scul-lee?"

Mulder sat very still for a breath and then looked around for the source of the question.

Over the side of the cement newel he saw a couple of ping-pong eyes looking up at him from a face of royal blue fuzzy fabric.

"Hi!" said Mulder. Not that surprised. After all, he was in their territory.

"Hel-lo. Who Will? Who you?"

Mulder leaned back all the more on his elbows. "I'm Mulder." But it came out sort of muttered. He spat out the casings. "Will is my son. One of your biggest fans."

"Mul-der?" the critter repeated. "What Mulder have in mouth?"

"Sunflower seeds. Well, in this case, casings. Their shells," he added when he realized that the critter was watching him with what had to be his confused look. It was hard to tell. Those black spots in the middle of the ping-pongs didn't move.

"You plant seeds," said the critter with a certain disappointment.

"Yes, you do," agreed Mulder, taking another handful and showing them to his companion before tossing them into his mouth. "But these," he said around his mouthful, "you can eat."

He spat out the casings, stored them into his pocket before taking just one seed and showing it to the critter who seemed to be watching what he was doing with great interest. Again, it was hard to tell, but something in its demeanour indicated interest.

"Ahhh," it said when Mulder cracked the shell, tossed the revealed seed into his mouth.

"Want one?" offered Mulder. He cracked open another seed with his fingers then, when the critter shook its head, tossed the meat up into the air and caught it in his mouth.

"No like seeds," said the critter. "And that dangerous," it added, in a rather chastising tone.

"Right," said Mulder. "Kids' show. Mustn't set a bad example." Shi....Shoot, you'd think he'd have remembered that was among the list of things Scully had instructed him not to do in front of Will.

"Me love cookies," volunteered the critter.

"Yes, I know you do," Mulder nodded his head. "In fact, you're famous for your love of cookies."

"Me? Famous?"

"You betcha," said Mulder, then wondered if that expression was acceptable. He looked around but no one called him on it.

"Me and cookies," said the critter, sounding pretty excited.

And sure enough, Mulder was yet again totally unsurprised to see a plate of cookies appear in front of the critter, resting on top of the cement railing.

"Chocolate chip, I believe," said Mulder.

"OOOOOOOHHHHHHHH! *LOVE* chocolate chip!"

Mulder raised his arm to protect his face from the flying crumbs and pieces of chocolate chip cookies that littered the area from the critter's enthusiastic attack on the plate.

"Yum, yum, yum."

"Yes, I'm sure," said Mulder. "But frankly, how would you know?"

The critter stopped and focused its attention on Mulder. "Heh?"

"Well, take a look around."

The critter did.

"If you put all the crumbs and pieces back together, it would be obvious that all you do is mangle the cookies."

"Man-gle?"

"Yes. I mean I understand the pull of oral gratification..."

"O-ral gra...?"

"Oral gra-ti-fi-cation," enunciated Mulder. Then, when all the critter did was shake its head, he continued, "In all of the many times that you've destroyed a plate of cookies, have you ever swallowed?"

"Swa-low-d?" The critter sounded even more bemused by this concept.

"Yes, you know," explained Mulder. "You put the cookie into your mouth, you bite off a piece. You chew. You swallow."

"Swallow?"

"Yes, like this." Mulder picked up a piece of cookie that had landed on his jeans. He opened his mouth very wide, dropped the cookie in. With his mouth as open as he could, he chewed, hoping that Scully would not find out about this. Then he showed the masticated cookie to his companion who peered in, so fascinated by the sight that Mulder wondered if it were going to try and join it. He quickly closed his mouth, swallowed and re-opened his mouth again to the curious inspection of the critter.

"Gone," said the critter, completely amazed by this magic.

"Swallowed," corrected Mulder.

"How do this?"

Mulder leaned over, opened his mouth. "See the hole at the back of my mouth? Well, that leads to the esophagus, which leads to the stomach."

This time, the critter stuck its nose into Mulder's mouth, trying to see what he was talking about.

It pulled back.

"Me," it said. And opened its mouth as wide as it could.

Mulder took a look in. "Nope. No hole. No wonder you're such a sloppy eater. You can't swallow. Not much that you can do with a mouth like that."

The critter grew very still. It then quickly looked around as if to make very certain that they were alone. It looked over its shoulder. It looked around the side of the apartment building. It looked around the telephone pole that was a few feet away. It looked over Mulder's shoulder.

Reassured that they were indeed alone, the critter snuggled up to Mulder, lay its head on his shoulder and looked up at him in an almost coquettish manner. "You wanna see," its voice was suddenly husky, "what mouth *can* do?" And it raised its non- existent eyebrows in a very Groucho Marx manner.

Mulder looked down into the black-dotted ping-pong eyes. He felt an immediate connection to the creature. Along with a certain heavy warmness in his groin.

"Eh," he started.

"Don't even think about it," said a voice that shouldn't be here.

Mulder looked up. Krycek was leaning against the telephone pole. Behind him, its beak resting on Krycek's head was a large yellow bird.

"What the..."

Krycek sadly shook his head. "Look, Mulder. You really have no place being here. I mean, it's okay for ex-assassins like myself. Guys reputedly with no morals. But you? No way, Mulder."

Krycek stepped away from the bird, came over to glare at the royal blue fuzzy critter. "Get lost," he said.

The critter looked from Mulder to Krycek. It growled. Krycek growled louder.

From behind them came a loud sigh. "Come along,' said the bird. "They're no fun anyways. They always disappear at the good moments. Leave you hanging."

The critter made a soft sound of disgust and was next seen hanging over the fence by a certain large nest.

Mulder shook his head, his link to the critter now broken.

"Did it mean what I think it meant?"

Krycek grinned. "Depends what you thought it meant, Mulder. Which reminds me, what did Scully make you do with your porn collection?"

"Ges! Krycek!" Mulder stood up, all scandalized. "This is a kids' show!"

Krycek raised an eloquent eyebrow. "Really? Is it now?"

"Papa. Papa? Papa!"

Mulder opened his eyes, blinked, and found his face being patted harder and harder with each 'papa'. "'Sokay, Will. I'm awake."

He set the Lay-Z-Boy upright, used the remote to turn off the VCR and the tv. Still befuddled by what he now recognized as a dream—What the hell was Krycek doing in his dream? Especially this kind of dream?—Mulder carried his now yawning son to bed.

Shit, he thought as he tucked Will in, first thing in the morning, he was going to ditch that 'special' version of his kid's favourite show that the Gunmen had found for him.

What? *NOT* what you were expecting? Hmmmmm. Maybe the therapy isn't completely *my* fault, eh!

BTW: Not that I have seen it myself, but I do understand that the above mentioned video actually exists. Sigh. Is there nothing sacred?

The End

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