Title: Mishaps III: Fore!
Author: Vesper (Regina)
Summary: Indoor golf.
Disclaimer: Would this happen on the television show, Mr. Carter? No? Okay. Do you mind if I write it myself? I promise I'll try to keep them in character, and not make any money off the story. Is that fine? Alrighty then.
Archival: If you wish to archive, please link to my website. Please keep all my headers intact.
Note: This actually happened to one of my friends.
Another uneventful day at the office was boring Scully to tears. Then she remembered the events of the past two days and as images of Mulder falling, struck down by the business end of high-heeled shoe, passed through her mind, she began to smile. She chuckled as she also recalled the way Mulder looked this morning--a small horseshoe shaped bruise in between his eyes and a trail of puckered dried blood on his cheek from a small kitten's paw.
He walked in and she toppled off her chair.
"What?" He sounded injured.
Fresh bursts of laughter escaped. "Nothing--just, have you looked at yourself today?"
"That cat's claws hurt, Scully! And this bruise is still giving me headaches. You have some powerful legs, Scully."
"I need them to keep up with a long-legged ape like you, Mulder."
"One of these day, Miss Prim, I hope to wipe that smug look off your face."
"Mulder, you'd better get your foot out of your mouth. I wouldn't want to treat you for athlete's foot!"
"Ouch. Scully, who would have know you to have such a bitter mouth?"
"Ah, Mulder. 'A sharp tongue is the only edge tool that grows keener with constant use'."
"Go ahead. Sharpen your axe on my whetstone."
The innuendo stopped her cold.
"All right, Mulder. I give. Want to play some indoor golf?"
"Indoor?" He started edging toward the door. "No, Scully, please don't."
"I have my clubs with me."
"Scully, that last time we played 'indoor golf' you nearly killed Skinner with your club."
"So? He's out of town. No one else ever comes down here. You can lock the door if it makes you feel better." By now she'd drawn out a club, and was holding it loosely.
He'd gradually gotten closer to the door and was trying to open it with his back to the knob. "You know what I'm going to do, Scully? I'm going to leave, quietly. You and golf clubs, indoor," he raised a warning finger, "are a catastrophe."
"Whatever you say, Mulder." She raised the golf club and swung it before he could go. The overhead light exploded in a shower of sparks and puffs of smoke.
"Scully, are you all right?"
She stood there, silent, shoulders still hunched in a protective posture, numbly grasping the golf club. She slowly straightened, looked Mulder directly in the eyes, and said, "Well, now I know what happens when a golf club is too long."
There was a short pause.
"Scully, if you want to play golf so desperately, let's go. Skinner's not here, we have no cases. Let's play hooky."
"You're laughing at me, aren't you?"
His mouth twisted. "I'm not."
"I can see right through you, Mulder. I know what you're thinking. It is funny, but let's not talk about it, and I won't mention your mishaps with," she gestured at his face, "you know. Deal?"
He smiled. "Deal."