Partridge In A Pear Tree

Author: PhileyX 
E-Mail: phileyxback@yahoo.com 
Web-site: https://www.angelfire.com/id/phileyx 
Category: UST 
Spoilers: None 
Disclaimer: Fox Network owns them all.
Intro: Just a short story that crept into my brain and refused to leave until I typed it out. Now, I can get back to studying in peace... phew!

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Croak.... 
'Fifty-one.'

Zzzzzz.... Croak.... 
'Fifty-two.'

Creek... Srzxzx.... Croak.... 
'Fifty-three.'

Srzxzx.... Srzxzx....
Hoot... Hoot..... Croak....
'Fifty-four.'

Srzxzx.... Creek... Hoot... Hoot..... 
Croak.... Srzxzx....

'Fifty-five toads a-croaking, fourteen agents snoring, three owls a-hooting, two crickets chirping and Partridge in a pear tree....' Mulder silently humoured himself.

It was only 2am, not even close to his bedtime. Pulling the cloak tightly around him, he cursed the lost senator and his family for the thousandth time. If it weren't for them, he wouldn't be chancing hypothermia in the middle of one of the largest state national parks.

But they were missing and here he was, with fourteen other agents and his partner. Their team was supposed to cover one tenth of the forest while teams from the Forest Rangers searched the rest. 

Rolling his eyes, he wondered how the FBI got involved with the menial task of rescuing lost campers. So what if the missing included one of the most powerful senators related to the peacekeeping forces? Agents were supposed to drop everything and volunteer their services even though there were well paid, trained men and women for the job? He snorted. 'Brainless FBI Suck-ups!'

And it wasn't as if the team really consisted of volunteers, all of them were practically drafted. He recalled when Skinner narrated the memo to them. His superior was clearly amused as he fought hard to hold back a smile. But when he came to the footnote that read 'The Aliens can wait'; a slight grin escaped him. 

Mulder sighed. If only the higher authorities knew how close they once were to alien colonization, they'd pee in their pants. 'And talking about peeing...' He shifted uncomfortably. He had been resisting the urge for hours. The very thought of exposing little Mulder and risking frostbite increased his resilience in the ultimate bladder control test he had ever faced.

A sudden blast of cold wind blew around him causing him to shiver involuntarily. He moved closer to the rest of the huddled agents behind him. It slightly helped. If he ever survived the night, he would personally kill the agent who forgot to bring the camping supplies from base camp. And then after that, he'd murder the head of the team that insisted that FBI agents were tough enough to survive the woods without them. 

He looked over to a cute, little bundle two meters from him and wondered how his partner was able to sleep on her own. She had opted to sleep away from the group after deciding that she had more than enough testosterone exposure for one day. And boy, what a performance she gave. So much so, keeping up with her was exhausting.

Mulder was too used to having her all by herself. With other agents around, he had to watch himself carefully. He nearly slipped a couple of times; innuendoes right at the tip of his tongue, the urge to guide her with the small of her back, to push a lock of stray hair behind her ear....

But he had survived, unscathed (for she would certainly slugged him if he violated their professional distance). Watching her at her best, he couldn't help but feel truly special. That he was able to get away with all his innuendoes was somewhat flattering. Well, sort of... Most of the time she ignored them.

It was an annoying coincidence that she was the only female in the team. Where were the annual 32 percent increase in FBI agents in her gender was what he'd like to know? Thankfully only half of them were jerks, the others were either too much in awe of her or had Agent Pendrall's trademarked dopey gazes. It was either enduring sexist jokes and impertinent questions from the former or remaining totally oblivious to the attentions of the latter. 

And then there were a few gentlemanly offers to carry her knapsack and a helping hand on the rough, hilly terrain. The audacity.... The glare she gave them was equivalent to a third degree burn. How dare they belittled the red-headed sailor that camped with her father every holiday and probably spent more time in the wild compared to all of their experiences put together.

He suspected that most of the assholes went out of the way to talk to her on his account. Despite his annoyance, he was careful not to show any reaction. Instead he acted indifferent and constantly reminded himself that Scully would handle them gracefully as always. And she did.

Suddenly he was brought away from his thoughts when he noticed that the tiny bundle in his view was shaking. And when he listened carefully, he could actually hear her teeth chattering. The woman was freezing!

He glanced back. The very audible snores and immovable figures assured him that the rest were fast asleep. Besides, even if they did wake up, it was too cold to risk losing the comfortable heated nest that they had already created between themselves. 

So he reached out and touched her lightly on her shoulder. She jumped and turned to look at him, surprised that he was still awake. Knowing that even a slightest look of pity would trigger the tough little sailor's defense mode, he kept his face blank and stretched open his cloak. 

She understood his gesture. He was offering her a space in his warm arms. She looked unsure and Mulder waited breathlessly, afraid that she would mistake his noble intentions and think that he was mocking her aptitude just like the rest.

Another rush of cold air blew between them. And it made up her mind. Quietly, she dragged herself towards him and slipped in between his warmth. Her small frame against his large one made the innocent heat-sharing embrace into an intimate one, certainly an act fit to be circulated round the FBI hallways. 'But they'll never know'. He assured himself and pulled her closer. 

She was still shivering and he unconsciously began to rub her back to speed the warming up process. It helped and soon her shaking subsided. His fingers had other plans though and trailed gently along her spine. He smiled when she stiffened, imagining her rolling her eyes against his chest at that very moment.

Once again, they were in their own private world where he was allowed to tease her. He wondered how far could he go before she retaliated. She didn't disappoint him. When his hand just about trailed a little past the small of her back, her head suddenly jerked up, connecting it sharply against his chin.

He grunted in pain and felt her chuckle. Grinning, he grudgingly stopped his wandering hands. She rewarded his obedience by snuggling deeper into his embrace and soon settled to sleep. He breathed her in and indulged in the rare opportunity given, to hold her. And as she drifted off into slumber, he drifted off into another world of his own. A world that only consisted of the two of them and very little clothes.

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The warm ball of softness within his arms moved and woke him. Momentarily glancing at his watch, he noticed that it was still an hour before dawn. His partner silently removed herself from him and avoided his inquiring look. Instead, she gently squeezed his arm (a second too long, he noted) and returned to her cold bed. 

His brain quickly consulted the Mr and Mrs Spooky Communication Textbook and soon recognized gestures, No.s 32 and 61 respectively. Roughly translated in layman terms, the squeeze meant "Thanks Mulder, I'll make it up to you some day" and the lengthened pressure, "If you ever bring last night up in public, you won't live to see another day". 

He smiled lazily at her ever-present discretion in the midst of their peers. No doubt she was mentally preparing herself to act as if she had spent the whole night exactly where she was now.

But it was rare that he got the heartwarming no. 61. With the recent expense report reviews with Skinner, all he kept getting was entry no. 10, a teeny arch of the eyebrow that meant "Shut Up Mulder" and no. 12, a stern glare that meant "Let me handle this". Sighing, he continued to watch her partner pretend to sleep. 

Oh, she was a sturdy one all right. Made up of a blessed childhood and faith in the only unscientific doctrine she believed. Hours earlier during dinner, several agents offered their services to keep her warm during the night. She struck back with poise. Suddenly becoming talkative, she began relating her latest autopsy, generously describing every single bloody, gory detail and as visually graphic as possible. 

As he joined the many that immediately lost their appetite, the others that still managed to keep their dinners in were subtlety reminded that she was handy with a scalpel. They left her alone after that and she returned to his side with a triumphant little smile. 

One of the side effects of her revenge suddenly taunted him, his stomach rumbled for food. He appeased it's demands by telling it that it wouldn't be long until breakfast, as the sky was getting lighter. Within a few hours, he'd have to restrain himself for another day and play the part of an uninterested partner. 

He sighed and wished that the missing VIPs would appear soon. 'Can't wait to have Scully all to myself again....'

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End of Partridge in a Pear Tree 

E-Mail: phileyxback@yahoo.com 
Web-site: https://www.angelfire.com/id/phileyx