"Dammit, I wish Scully was here."

Krycek crooked an eyebrow at Mulder. "I thought we were settling in pretty well as partners."

"We're doing okay."

"Judging from what we're doing right now, I'd say we're on more than friendly terms, so why do you want Scully?"

"Scully is a doctor, and she's always prepared for everything. Scully would have lube and condoms."

"Yeah, but she wouldn't be able to fuck you, now would she?" *squeeze*

*groan* "I dunno, I've never seen her naked. Y'know we ran into this really unusual sect of sort of... They weren't exactly Amish, but we finally figured out that their mating habits were even more strange, and..."

"Okay, I can't screw you, but there are other uses you could put your mouth to." *push* *glmmmf* "Muuuuuuch better."

*Flash* "Yowza!"

*squeak!*

Krycek yelped. "Son of a bitch! Will you please not startle him when he's doing that?"

Strife, who had appeared sitting cross-legged on the free desk, giggled. "Hang out a sign, dude." He held up his hands, as if framing something. "BLOWJOB BEING ADMINISTERED BY SKITTISH FEEB. PLEASE KNOCK." Mulder was picking himself up off the floor against the far wall, where he'd flung himself when Strife appeared. Strife fluttered his eyelashes at him. "Fellatious interruptus?"

Krycek was zipping up. "It was damn near an impromptu circumcision, and since I had a planned one shortly after birth, that could have been awkward to say the least." Krycek glanced at Mulder. "Oh, put the gun away. It's just Strife."

Mulder (who didn't have Jim Ellison's seemingly genetic inability to hold onto a gun any time but when cleaning it or at a shooting range) didn't lower his aim. "Krycek, a weird looking guy in leather just appeared out of nowhere..." He frowned. "Interrupting the first sex I've had in ages, I might add, so if he isn't an X File, he's still a fucking annoyance."

Strife sighed. "Okay, he's clueless. Where's tha lil redhead? She can usually whip him inta some semblance of competence."

"I'm partnering Mulder now," said Alex. "Dana is... off doing the FBI equivalent of make-busy work, I think. Consulting on obscure forensics that would baffle most Nobel Prize winners, and have about as much practical significance as the latest issue of People Magazine... No, wait--sometimes People has coupons..."

Strife clapped his hands. "Hey, so, Alex, that means you an' Sulky are currently at tha start of yer Poetic saga, right?"

"This time around."

Mulder was looking back and forth between them. "What the hell are you two talking about?"

Strife sat back in surprise. "You don't know?"

Alex patted Mulder on the shoulder. "Scribe has agreed to let him stay in the dark." His grin was shark like. "Why take the surprise out of a relationship?"

Strife started giggling. Mulder said suspiciously, "What?"

Alex gave Strife a warning look, and the Mischief God waved it away. "He's clueless--he won't get it. Yo, Foxy, I got two songs I want ya ta remembah fah latah." He cleared his throat. "A Foggy Day In London Town, an' Summah Days.**"

Mulder looked puzzled. "London? But I attended Oxford years ago, and the Bureau isn't likely to want to use me on sensitive foreign matters any time soon."

Strife shrugged. "It's tha only song I can come up with about 'fog' right off tha top of my head." He glanced at Alex. "Any idea why she picked fog fah that story instead of rain?**"

Alex shrugged. "She was going on poems instead of songs, the prompt needed a weather condition, and someone had already done rain.**"

"Makes as much sense as anything else she's evah done, I guess. Ya heard what happened, ha?" Both FBI agents shook their heads, so Strife gave them the Reader's Digest Condensed Version. "So I'm tryin ta haul my butt outta tha crack, an' hopefully wedge whoever is responsible in it."

"Let me get this straight," said Mulder. "You expect me to believe that there are multiple layers of reality--indeed, multiple universes, and that many of them are controlled by rabid fans of television and movies, who manipulate these realities and the lives of those within to satisfy their own often graphically sexual fantasies, displaying them for the pleasure of thousands of other equally twisted readers on the internet--and that one of these people, who has devoted a lot of time and attention to my own sexual exploitation, needs my help?"

Strife nodded. "Pretty much."

"Okay."

Strife grinned at Krycek. "He's so easy."

Alex sighed. "On some things." He returned the grin. "But he's also worth the effort on the other things. We're ready and willing to help."

"Suggestions?" said Strife.

"I'd say we hit the Lone Gunmen first," said Mulder. "They may be able to help. And even if they can't, if I didn't pull them in on something that looks like this big a conspiracy..." He trailed off.

"Make yer life miserable?" asked Strife.

"Strife--they're computer geeks. Hello? Credit ratings?"

Strife winced, then smiled. "I knew there was a reason I recruited so many of 'em. Okay, you two go check in with tha Trippy Trio. I'm off ta wrangle more help."

"Where to?" asked Mulder.

Strife cackled. "Somewhere there's enough weirdness ta keep you happy, enough sleaze fah Ratboy here, an' so much mischief all at once that I'm gettin a buzz just thinkin about it." He lifted his hands. "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas my ass!"

*Flash*