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randomfoggytiger · 1 year ago

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"I Think He's a Hard Kid to Love"

(Fictober, Day 23)

Inspired by these prompts and sketches (shoutout to my family members.)

*****

Scully was sitting outside her motel room, half-awake, trying to warm up in the weak, wavering sun and shockingly cold morning air.

It wasn’t working.

Mulder’s door opened and he dodged out, awkwardly fiddling with his phone while juggling his luggage. She watched disinterestedly, still glazed with sleep, as he strode across the parking lot, waiting for the call to go through. Then he was chattering, trying to place his luggage in the trunk of their rental, failing, and forcefully shoving them in with his second, impatient attempt. Scully noticed he was shocking a squirrel half to death but decided not to interfere: she didn't feel like wrangling the locals while still mentally in bed. More importantly, her coffee hadn't kicked in.

At this rate, she doubted it ever would.

She was only aware her eyes were closed because Mulder was back and nudging her shoulder, voice startlingly close as he said, “Looks like we’re still going on a little road trip, Scully.” He walked away, humming something under his breath.

Whoopee.

*****

It’s not that Scully disliked road trips in the fall-- they were gorgeous drives, made her feel grateful to be human-- but she vastly preferred them in casual clothes in her own car on her own time at home. Which was the opposite of where they were heading.

A few gorgeous red trees meandered their way past the windshield, so slowly it was easy to mistake them for friends holding hands and loping soundlessly through the woods. Now that she thought of it, the entire forest came alive through a few perfected squints and an imagination fueled by groggy awareness and pre-caffeine boredom.

“Killer trees”, their boss had said. Flat. Tell me I’m wrong, he’d meant.

“That’s what Agent Mulder… suggested, Sir. And I’m at a loss to explain the corroborating witnesses' testimony without… some degree of credit to his story.”

There had been a long, disappointed sigh. “Agent Scully, might I have a word with him?”

And they’d been promptly assigned a case close enough to drive to. Mulder had dodged all inquiries on how or why Skinner forced them away from rather than toward home; but he’d gotten her thinly veiled hints and called up Boss Man again while they packed, doing his best to wiggle them out of the obligation.

No dice.

*****

“Gorgeous,” she murmured, willing to give Nature its due now that she was a little more awake.

“Hm. What?” Mulder stopped humming briefly to shoot her a side-glance; then scanned the road to find what she was talking about.

“The scenery-- the sky and the trees and the grass. Rich reds and yellows and oranges. The blue isn’t too blue.”

He nodded as she braced herself further upright against the door. “Mm. Tranquil.”

A bluster of leaves swirled across the road, smacked the hood of the car, and whooshed away.

Is that irony, tragedy, or comedy? Scully flicked away the thought like an unwanted fuzz of lint on her skirt. She was not going to be bogged down with useless thought trails that warranted an obscene amount of energy this early in the morning.

*****

“I think I’d enjoy it more if my eyes weren’t…” Mulder made a vague handwave, drawing her attention to-- not away from-- his attention-seeking smile.

Fine. Here we go. “Mulder, you are not red-green colorblind.”

“Ah, au contraire, Scully-- my paperwork would prove you wrong.” He was enjoying this: probably had been bored out of his mind simply sitting and staring, probably waited until she could wake up enough to verbally spar before opening a topic between them, probably chose one that would annoy her even more awake.

Touche.

“Your paperwork is nonexistent because you never bothered to get tested, Mulder.”

“There’s a very big difference between Salmon and Dusty Salmon, Scully; and I’m one of the unlucky few that can’t tell that all-important difference.”

She blinked at him, enjoyed watching the swirling swaths of autumnal colors blend behind his profile. “I’d wager a lot of people can’t tell the difference between Salmon and Other Salmon. And whatever you think you have, it most certainly didn’t affect your recruitment.”

“Or it could mean the higher ups wanted my abilities so badly they were willing to fudge a bit of paperwork.” He was modest, immodest, self-deprecating, and proud all at once. How Mulder.

“Mulder, you see normal human blood and acidic green blood. You see these trees. You see my hair. Proof.” Scully formed her words precisely, smugly. “Scientific evidence.”

His hands were already diving into a sunflower seed bag, his rhythmic cracking a routine that keyed him up and settled him down simultaneously. Mulder's queue that he was meditating an interesting little comeback.

“Yeah, well, I coulda sworn your hair’s changed color over the years, Scully.”

She was crisp and professional, the very model of dignity as she sniffed at the assertion. “Lighting, Mulder-- more precisely, bad lighting. I’ll never forget the day I changed the bulbs in the office and you walked in, stood there, and stared like you’d woken up in some weird alternate universe.”

Scully preferred to refer to their workspace as the office or the office down there and not the basement or the den of iniquity like her partner did. It kept things above board-- above reproach, above criticism, above scrutiny. Above the low bar of Mulder's jokes.

Crunch, crack. “Yeah, well…”

“And my hair hasn’t changed since, has it?”

Crack, crunch, genuine smile. “You never know, Scully-- it might spring something on you yet.”

“Until it does, I’m going to soak up what’s left of this drive.”

They both swiveled towards their respective views, Scully leaning against the car window and Mulder picking up his humming in between spits and chews.

*****

It was a sleepy old town they arrived in; and a sleepy old gas station they pulled up to.

“Has law enforcement been alerted we’re coming?” Scully asked, stretching her limbs while trying to sidestep the wind.

Mulder didn’t answer. Avoiding, again.

“Mulder--”

“They, uh, aren’t going to be involved. In this case.” His eyes were fixed on the gas nozzle, swiping a finger back and forth as if studying its dimensions for the first time.

“Mulder. Why not?”

“Because this assignment is a bit… unofficial,” Mulder smirked, meeting her eyes hesitantly.

Scully straightened her shoulders, trying to pick apart his vague answers. “Skinner gave us an unofficial case?”

“He gave us an unofficial assignment.”

Visions of home and hearth and comfy clothes danced behind her eyes. “There isn’t a case?”

“There could be. We’re here to make sure it doesn’t happen.” Mulder looked from her eyes to her eyebrows to her stance, shrugged, and pretended to focus his gaze elsewhere. Again. This time it was on the leaf sticking to the roof of their car.

She sighed, let her shoulders drop, and almost, almost smiled.

*****

A man named Ernesto had a friend named Bernie. Bernie was very popular in the town, made friends with everyone, was thought of as the town’s mascot almost--

“Mulder, you make it sound like this town made an attraction out of a human being.”

--And be that as it may, everyone got along, swept up in brotherly love one toward another. However, every fall Bernie got a bit… uncontrollable, wouldn't listen to reason, and broke into peoples’ properties to get his hands on food.

“He doesn’t have enough to eat?”

He did-- does-- as it happens; but was never convinced it was enough. So, every fall the townsfolk got-- get-- antsy and tried to reason with Ernesto to keep a tighter leash on his friend. But Ernesto wouldn't-- won’t-- listen to reason.

“So we’re… what? Deployed by the FBI to be a brute force reminder?”

“I don’t think that’s quite what Skinner had in mind when he said to have a chat with Ernesto; but if you’re that bloodthirsty, G-woman, I’ll rustle us up another bad guy you can shoot at.”

“I already have two I’d like to take a potshot at; so why don’t we get this over with before my trigger happy finger gets a mind of its own?”

*****

Bernie was a bear.

Scully didn’t know if she was more appalled or amused at the sight of a full-grown black bear swamped in fall sweaters charging full speed at her; but humor won out as Mulder lunged from her periphery and knocked them both safely out of its path.

“BERNIE, GET BACK HEREEEEEEEEE!” Ernesto screeched, shrimp-thin leash flailing uselessly above his head. “BERNIE, YOU JUST GOT A HUGE MEAL ONE HOUR AGO! BERNIE--!”

Scully had a split second to process the unfolding madness before Mulder leaped to his feet and dashed for the door. She scrambled after him, wondering how in the world Skinner would know a man that owned a bear; and decided she didn’t want to know.

“BERNIEEEEEEEEEE--” echoed behind her in the town hall. How was Ernesto allowed to bring a domesticated bear into Town Hall?

“BEAR!” echoed in front of her down the front steps of town hall. How did Mulder think yelling 'Bear' would help them at all?

Her partner was pointing ahead of him at--

“That’s a werewolf lawn ornament, Mulder!” she yelled, still trying to sort through the cacophony of thoughts and strategies flitting through her mind.

He took off down the steps, looking wildly left and right. “Bernie!” Mulder veered a few paces left, changed his mind, veered right. “Bernie!”

Ernesto ran after him, sniffling back tears. “BERNIE, THIS IS THE TENTH TIME THIS WEEK-- WHY WON’T YOU LISTEN TO ME--”

Stopping to lean against the stairs' right-side wall support, Scully watched the two men circle the front lawn, regroup, and take off in opposite directions-- Mulder straight for a tempting garden they’d passed on their walk here and Ernesto weaving off to one possibly like it.

*****

A snuffling caught her attention.

Scully looked over the wall and froze, her blue eyes meeting wide, black ones.

Bear and woman stared at each other for a long, long time, his mouth wrapped halfway around a mangled pumpkin and hers flapping open and shut as she tried to emit sound of any kind.

It was only a minute-- less than-- before the bear lost interest and began chewing on his make-do snack again.

“B…ernie?” she whispered, and watched his ears swivel in her direction. “Bernie? You need to come back inside. Come back inside, wait for Ernesto.”

Bernie looked at her begrudgingly, and it was such a spitting image of her nephew that all fear vanished in a gust of wind. “Bernie. Come inside. And bring your snack with you.” Might as well let him finish and save everyone the hassle of cleaning up.

Bernie must have sensed her compromise: he rose and lumbered back over to and up the steps, taking great care to wipe all four of his muddy paws on the mat before going back inside.

*****

Before she could decide how to proceed, a loud yelp pierced the air and Scully knew, immediately, it was her partner.

“MULDER?” She turned and chased after the phantom of Mulder's footsteps-- past the werewolf decoration, stacks of raked autumn leaves, half the town, and a few more shocked squirrels.

She vaguely hoped Bernie would stay where he was.

*****

“A possum party,” Mulder explained to Ernesto, trying to clean his muddy fingers on his muddy coat. “I think I found your culprits, though some blame can still be placed on Bernie’s inadequate leash.”

Ernesto was half-listening, squeezing his pet in the biggest, most awkward hug Scully had ever seen.

She’d only witnessed the tail end of Mulder’s newest drama-- as usual-- more specifically, the many tail ends of a troop of fleeing possums, some ravaged vegetables, and her partner face-planted, business end up, in front of a very slick patch of mud. They’d have to rent another motel room in order to get cleaned up for the trip home.

Whoopee.

“Mr. Ernesto, I’m going to have to reiterate what my partner said. Your leash is inadequate to prevent Bernie from running off however he wants or chooses; and even if, as you say, he is not a menace to anyone else he is, at the very least, liable to get injured or killed if he startles someone with a firearm or runs into traffic. This is a final warning; otherwise, we’ll have to get the proper authorities involved.”

Mulder, she noticed, was highly amused-- and something else-- that Scully had taken the bad cop approach; and even more so when Ernesto hung on every word she said with beseeching eyes.

“Agent Mulder will go with you to pick out a suitable collar while I make a few final calls, Ernesto. Consider this your lucky day.”

She didn’t even care that her partner wasn’t so amused anymore.

*****

Scully hung up the call with Skinner mildly appeased, having stressed the precious time she and Agent Mulder had wasted; that Ernesto was unlikely to heed their warnings, regardless; and that they (meaning she) had gone above and beyond the call of duty and saw no reason, Sir, to do these sorts of assignments any time soon in the near future.

Their boss wasn’t concerned enough, she mused, when he thanked her for the call and hung up.

She lugged Mulder’s carryon into the nearest motel she could find, deciding that putting his essential items into piles would keep this pit stop as short as possible. While unpacking some of his shirts, the tune he was humming in the car popped into her mind; and Scully tried to place it as she unrolled a few of her partner's tank tops. Then she stopped, deeply sighed, and tossed his shirts down in annoyance before stomping back to the car.

He had had the gall to sing The Bare Necessities the entire drive.

*****

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023 and @fictober-event

#txf #fic #Fictober #Day 23 #2023 #mine #Schizogeny #S5 #“I Think He's a Hard Kid to Love”#Mulder #Scully #fall vibes #Bernie the Bear #and shoutout to welsharcher for her opossum love #randomfoggytiger's fic

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