BELIEVE HALF OF WHAT YOU SEE
*rap rap rap*
"Xander, get off me."
*rap rap rap*
"That's the door."
"It's just the headboard tapping the wall, trust me."
"I wrapped padding around the headboard after Mom complained about being kept awake. Get up!"
"I am up. That's why I'm not goin' anywhere."
*rap rap rap!*
"Shit! Xander, they aren't leaving, and they're getting pissed! Get off me or I'll write your butt an owie that will become legend in fan fiction."
"Worse than the one where Angelus was goin' through a gender-switch and I wandered in while he was PMSing with no Midol or Ben and Jerry's?"
"That will look like a trip to Six Flags."
"Ooo. All right."
Xander Harris rolled off Scribe, allowing the fan fiction writer to scramble up out of the bed and head for the living room. "One good thing about having you around, Xander. Pop Tarts may actually make you fat in this world, but with you to help me burn off the excess calories, I have nothing to worry about."
Xander got up to follow her, making conventional arrangements with his fly, so as not to alarm whoever was at the door. People in this world were so picky about dress codes. "You got the chain on, right?"
"Damn. I was kinda hoping I'd finally managed to fuck your brains out. Guess I'll have to keep trying."
"Not right now." Scribe cracked the door. "Yes?"
"About time." said an annoyed voice. "Harris, you were after her again, weren't you? I could have been raped twice waiting for this door to open."
"Only if Alex has lost his stamina, Mulder." Xander quipped. "Besides, this it the quote 'real world' unquote. It's unlikely that you'd get molested on a front porch in broad daylight."
"Yeah, since you're on the other side of the door. Scribe, are you gonna let me in, or not?"
"That depends." She peeked out at him. "I just managed to get out from under one horny fictional character, and I'm hoping for some breathing space."
"C'mon, this is serious. My career is at stake," he whined.
"If I don't let you in, you stop humping like a bunny? The fan fiction universe would go into mourning, I guess." She reached for the chain. "I don't intend to piss them off if I can help it."
"Not that career, my other one." The tall X Files agent came in, and sprawled on the sofa. "I do still work for the FBI, though that seems to have slipped the minds of many of the writers."
Xander dropped down next to him and snuggled in against his side. "It's all that Astroglide. Things just sliiiiide right on out."
"Can I offer you anything?" said Scribe, ever the good hostess. "Drink? Pop Tart?" She cocked her head as Xander started licking Fox's neck. "Privacy?"
"Since when has an audience ever bothered me?" Mulder asked. "Xander, stop that for a minute, this is important."
Xander pouted. "Will you two get whatever this is taken care of, and then get naked? I'm not into deferring satisfaction."
"No? Really?" Scribe's voice was wry. "Coulda fooled me. It took you all of about forty-five seconds after meeting me to fire off the first proposition."
He shrugged. "What can I say? I hadn't had my caffeine: I was sluggish."
"Come sit down so I don't get neck strain," Mulder requested.
Xander snorted. "That's hardly likely, considering how strong your neck muscles must be after all the..."
"We won't go into that right now." Mulder warned. Scribe had forgotten how long Mulder's arms were, and had strayed within reach. He promptly pulled her down on his lap. "That's better. I need your help."
She squirmed. "I told you! I want a breather. Anyway, this is the real world, and you'd have to use protection, and Xander doesn't share his. He really pissed my niece's boyfriend off about that."
"Not my fault." Xander averred. "I said I'd loan him all he needed."
"IF he'd let you join in. He ain't a fan fiction reader, Xander, I told you that! You scared the hell out of his plain vanilla ass. I practically had to scrape him off the ceiling."
Fox sneered. "Amateurs."
"What do you expect? People here don't have sex six or eight times a day with multiple partners of both genders, DESPITE what the Penthouse Forum would have you believe," she explained. "What is it, Mulder? And get your hand off my boob while you're talking to me. Show a little respect."
"I'll have you know that your tits are highly respected, by me and everybody else I know." She slapped his hand. "Ow. All right. You need to return to your MarySue universe immediately."
"What? No way! I've been out less than a week. I haven't even invited anyone over for an official sleep-over. I've been trying to decide who would be least likely to freak my Mom."
Mulder looked insulted. "You didn't consider me?"
"A, you showed up uninvited the same day I got back. You've had your turn. B, you'd start in on the conspiracies and alien abductions and freak her. Yes, we ARE southern red necks, but none of our kin have yet been abducted by a flying saucer. Though there IS some suspicions about cloning among the second cousins, but that could just be inbreeding." She made a face. "Squick. I tend to avoid family reunions. Why do you think I should go back there so soon?"
"Like I said, my career is at stake. Someone is blackmailing me. Several someones."
Scribe sighed. "The Consortium? The Company? The Directive? One of those other sinister organizations whose names start with 'The'?"
"Basically everyone in your MarySue universe who didn't get their hands on you, or feels that they didn't get their hands on you for
"Those greedy bastards!" Xander sounded indignant. He might have been more believable if he hadn't been trying to grope both Mulder and Scribe at the same time.
"What brought this on? Xander, back off, or I'll give you a reverse head butt." Xander grumbled, and pulled back a fraction.
"I think it was triggered by your posting the 'Proverb Series'. It got them all stirred up again, reading about your exploits. And some of them snapped to the fact that they missed their chance. Alex was particularly pissed."
"How are they trying to blackmail you?" Scribe took hold of Xander's hand and bit him, causing him to yelp and jerk the limb back. Really, it was the only way to slow him down.
"They have pictures of me and Krycek in a compromising position." Scribe looked at him skeptically. "Actually, several compromising positions." Xander smirked. "Oh, all right. Enough to illustrate the next printing of 'The Joy of Gay Sex'. And they said they'll send them to Bureau Headquarters if you don't come back."
Xander was curious. "Is Alex being blackmailed, too?"
"Are you kidding me? Alex asked for a framed 8 x 10, wallet sizes, and one to use as his Christmas card next year."
"I thought they were pretty cool with your lifestyle choice, Mulder." Scribe said, puzzled. SHE'D certainly written enough fics with him being openly gay.
"They are, but if Skinner sees them and realizes I've been cheating with Alex again, I'm in a whole world of hurt."
"Ol' Specs is feeling kinda possessive, huh?" Xander asked, interested.
Mulder closed his eyes briefly. "Harris, he's talking tattoos. Maybe brands." Mulder touched his chest, wincing. "I mean, the double ring ceremony was bad enough..."
Xander quickly started to unbutton Fox's shirt. "This I gotta see!"
"Just be careful, okay?" Mulder begged. "I only got it last week, and it's been a real bitch with these button-down shirts."
Scribe managed to lever herself off the FBI agent's lap. "Do you mean to tell me that you expect me to throw myself back into their multiple clutches just because someone played 'Smile, you're on candid camera' with you?"
"It isn't like that, they know you wouldn't just hand yourself over. All they want is another shot. You just show up, like you did last time, and let things kinda... progress."
She was tapping her foot. "For how long?"
He shrugged. "No definite time limit was stated. They passed a hex de-activating all footwear enabled methods of escape, so you can't use the ruby slippers again. You just have to find another way."
"Huh. Well, I'll just zip over and then you can tell me how you've been... Why are you shaking your head?"
"No can do. It's classified."
"All right, if you don't believe that, how about the fact that my ass would be in serious trouble if I didn't give my fellow lust crazed characters a half-way decent shot at boinking you?"
"Pissy, but a lot more believable." She headed toward the kitchen.
"What are you doing? Xander get your hand out of my fly. I want to zip up."
"Party pooper. I like the ring, by the way. I think the fox charm is a cute touch."
"What can I say? He's a romantic. I have a bed full of stuffed animals. Scribe! You aren't trying to sneak out the back, are you? Damn, I don't wanna have to chase you in Real Life. I get short of breath, and can't have any fun once I catch you."
She came back into the livingroom. "Relax, Romeo." She held up a box of Pop Tarts. "I had to go for supplies."
Xander looked. "Uh oh. Chocolate-Vanilla Fudge."
She nodded. "With frosting and sprinkles."
Xander looked at Mulder. "Dude, she is prepared to do some MAJOR scampering with that kind of sugar rush."
"How do we go about this?" she asked.
Xander hopped up. "Monitor! C'mon. I won't mind seeing the old gang again. It'll be kinda fun to lord my favored status over 'em. 'Xander the Loser'. Hah! Xander-got-the-hottest-piece-of-tail-in-the-multiverse!"
"He's so modest." Scribe confided to Mulder as they entered the bedroom. "Don't even look at the bed, Xander. We're traveling, remember?"
"Okay." He turned on the computer. "Sit. Write."
"Write what, pray tell?"
"How the fuck should I know? You're the author. I just need a portal to get you through. Write wherever and whatever the hell you want to fall into."
"Eep. Decisions, decisions." She sat before the keyboard, flexing her fingers. "Okay, where is likely to be the least populated with aggressively lecherous characters, and closest to a possible escape route?" She stared at the blank Wordpad Document for a moment, fingers curved over the keyboard, then sighed. "What a time to get writer's block. Harmless, harmless... Mm. Children's shows? Maybe Captain Kangaroo..."
Mulder was shaking his head. "You sure you want to deal with the Dancing Bear, Bunny Rabbit, and Mr. Moose? I thought you were anti-bestiality. Well, aside from that one Winnie-the-Pooh slash you got so much heat over..."
"That doesn't count! It isn't really bestiality when ALL the participants are beasts, and stuffed, to boot."
"Tell that to the Pooh collectors who ignored the rating and warning labels, and are currently gibbering in corners, wrapped in canvas. Then there was the Blair-as-a-werewolf thingy..." Xander remarked.
"Hey, there wasn't any actual penetration in that. Besides, it went to the point that Jim loved Blair no matter WHAT condition he was in."
Xander shrugged. "You don't have to convince ME. I beat off when I read it."
She tapped a finger on the desk thoughtfully. "Hm. Comic strips? I'd say Peanuts, because I'm pretty sure I could handle Charlie Brown and Linus, but frankly, Lucy scares the hell out of me."
"How about Riverdale?" Xander piped.
"Archie. Hey you know how hot I was after Willow for awhile there. I wouldn't mind gettin' me some more red-headed stuff. Hubba-hubba."
"Sorry. The possibility of Jughead coming after me is too squicky to deal with, and Moose could be a major hazard. Eh, screw it. I'll be non-specific, and see where it lands me."
She flexed her fingers, and typed. //It was a picture-post card perfect tropical beach. The palm fronds waved gently in the mellow breeze, emerald green against azure, with the occasional snowy cloud for contrast...//
"Nice alliteration there at the first," Xander approved, resting his chin on her shoulder.
"I wish you wouldn't do that when I'm wearing a wide neckline. Your stubble scratches." He quickly scrubbed his chin back and forth. "Me and my big mouth."
Mulder rested his chin on her other shoulder. "About that mouth. You and I haven't..."
"Shut up, horndogs. I'm creating. Lessee... Beaches... beaches..." //The white sugar sand was blinding in its purity. The cerulean water lapped it as gently as a lover's tongue...//
"Are you sure you spelled that correctly?" Xander nuzzled her neck, and she tried to elbow him back.
"Yeah," Fox assured him. "Very nice usage, too. Couldn't say 'azure' again for the water, and 'blue' is so common. However, you'd better hope the characters all have brown or green eyes, or you're going to end up using things like 'smalt', 'cyanogen','bice', 'zaffer', 'indicolite'."
"Wha-huh?" Scribe said politely.
"You made those up!" Xander accused.
"Did not. Look 'em up. I'm a genius, you know."
"You should know, right? Mr. Gill-Man-lycanthrope-got-a-vampire-boyfriend-possessed-by-the-demon-of-the-week."
"Play nice, you two. No, Xander, that isn't what I meant. If you must, take it on the bed, okay? I can't afford to get bodily fluids on the keyboard again. I had a hell of a time explaining to the clerk why I wanted to swap it out."
"Nah, I'll stay here." He rested his chin on her again. "I want to see this. You're using metaphors in your first paragraph. You mean business. I reeeal-y like the lapping bit."
"You've hung around Sandburg too much." She started typing again. //The sultry, but gentle, wind wafted the warm scents of salt, ginger, and coconut oil to the delicate nostrils of the woman walking on the beach.//
Xander bounced excitedly. "There ya are, there ya are! Now, write me and Mulder into it."
"What? Why should I?"
"Because you ain't going nowhere without me, and I'm pretty sure Mulder wants to keep track of what happens. And I think he could use a ride home."
Mulder nodded vigorously. "I won't tell you what's required for me to get across. I'll just say that it makes those damn anal probes the aliens do seem comfortable."
"Oh, all right." *tapping* //She turned to glance at the two men walking behind her, lost in conversation. Mulder looked a hell of a lot more relaxed in those clamdiggers and the T-shirt than he usually did in his suit...//
"Hot dog! I get to wear civvies!" Mulder crowed.
"Quiet!" Xander scolded. "Scribe, don't put me in a thong," he said, in his best Br'er Rabbit, 'please-don't-throw-me-in-the-briar-patch tone.
"I didn't plan to. We could end up in a Due South Chicago winter when we run, and I've grown rather fond of your butt. I'd rather not have you freeze it off." //Xander Harris, in jams and an open Hawaiian shirt that's colors screamed louder than a woman in labor, doing the Lamaze bit...//
"Oh, I LIKE that one!" Xander chortled. "So, I take it we're going for the light-hearted effect here?"
"Why, no, Xander. I'm having this be the Island of Doctor Moreau, and the vivisectionists will arrive at any moment." He looked alarmed. "I'm kidding, you moron."
"It's hard to tell with you. But you could drop that Montgomery dude in, if you wanted to. Then you could set Mulder up with the diplomat, and I'd pay to see you with the catlady..."
"Mulder, hose him down for me, will you? No, not like that. Geez, you're almost as bad as he is. Xander, this is just to get me an in. It's a good thing you can't really die. They'd never be able to get the coffin closed. Where was I? Oh, yeah." //...was scuffing his feet through the piles of gleaming sand with almost childlike glee. Watching her two friends, Scribe contemplated the ironic fate that had brought her to this deserted isle.//
She sat back. "There. That's as peaceful, harmless, and comfortable as I can imagine."
"Okay! Upsa-daisy!" Xander moved the chair out from in front of the desk. "Now, stand real close to me, on either side." Mulder and Scribe crowded in on either side of Xander. "Put your arms around me." They did. He put an arm around each one. Then stood there.
After a minute Scribe said, "Xander?"
"Sorry. Being sandwich filling always distracts me. Ready to go?" Without waiting for an answer, he dived forward, dragging his two companions with him, and...
...they landed in a tangle of bodies and limbs, rolling in warm, white sand. Scribe disentangled herself (with a little difficulty. Xander had apparently gotten hold of a copy of 'From Here to Eternity'), and stood up, brushing herself off.
"Well, thank God for fan fiction perfect environments. If I did that at a local beach, I'd end up wearing half of it home. That's the main reason I don't go. Well, that and the bits of seashell in the crotch of the bathing suit," she amended.
Xander and Fox were wrestling. Maybe I should just leave them and try to find my own way home. I like Xander, but the boy is wearing me out.
Whups! Not as deserted as I thought. Scribe looked a few yards up the beach. Okay, nothing too menacing. There were two women standing there. One was a petite brunette with her hair in the style Scribe's Mom always called 'doggie ears'. She was wearing a plaid shirt and a pair of Daisy Dukes that showed off admirably tanned legs. The other was a tall, striking red-head, who was wearing what looked like a slinky evening gown. As Scribe looked, the red-head eyed her, and licked her lips, pink tongue swiping near a tiny beauty mark placed near her mouth. "Uh oh."
Xander looked up with interest. "Well, Scribe. You did say that you smelled Ginger..."