Title: The Kilt Series III - Caber Toss - The Sequel to Highland Games Author: banlu Email: banlutoo@yahoo.com Archive: *DO NOT ARCHIVE* to ephemeral, Gossamer; Already there. Anyone else, please ask. I like to know it's gone to a nice home. Rating: PG-13 Category: S/H Spoilers: None - imagine your own favorite version of M & S. Can even mix-and-match! Keywords: Mulder/Scully Summary: A kilt fic III Comments: This has mutated into a series. Though each story is complete unto itself, they MUST be read in the order written so the references can be understood. The Kilt Series Highland Fling Highland Games - The Sequel to Highland Fling Caber Toss - The Sequel to Highland Games Disclaimer: I own the TV, but not what's shown on it. Thanks: To everyone who liked "Highland Fling" enough to make me want to write the sequels. Dedication: mimic117 - there's no one beta! *g* Date written: August 2002 Author's notes: At end. Caber Toss - The Sequel to Highland Games by banlu Mulder yanked at the handle to his motel room, but the door didn't budge. He wished he could kick it in so he could escape the humiliation he had just experienced. He started to slap at his pockets, searching for his keys, but remembered the kilt had none. Mulder had tried putting the keys in the sporran, but he'd felt so silly rooting around in that purse-thingy hanging over his crotch, he'd asked Scully to carry them. Problem was, he wasn't speaking to her right now. He yanked the handle once again. Then he heard the jangle of keys. He turned around and shot a glare at Scully as he grabbed them from her hand. Then he opened the door and stomped inside. The slam of the hollow-core door didn't satisfy him, so he tipped a chair. Still seething, he began to stalk back and forth across the room. "How could you do that to me, Scully!" he growled to himself. "It wasn't funny! You should have given those girls hell!" He stopped at the thought of the two giggling teen-age girls who seemed to be shadowing him all day. And all because of this damn kilt, he thought as he looked down at the offending garment. He tore it off, thankful it wasn't one of those with about a hundred yards of broadcloth where you had to lie down on the floor and roll into like a mummy. This one was more like a skirt, but still was made of scratchy, itchy wool. He threw it on the floor in his frustration, then looked up and saw himself in the mirror. He still had on a black mock turtle-neck with the sleeves pushed up, and his boots, but from the top of his socks to the hem of his shirt just below his navel, he was naked. He looked at his reflection and sighed. Today his private parts had gone public, on display for the whole world to see. His anger subsided and he was left with his embarrassment. Hah! he thought, the perfect description. Him-bare-assed. He sprawled on the bed with a groan, then threw an arm over his eyes. With the other hand, he reached down and gave himself a good scratch. And he had thought that not being able to scratch his itches in public would be his biggest problem today. He sighed again. His mind wandered back to the start of it all. He could remember the feel of Scully's knuckles brushing along his bare skin and the little thrill he had felt. And, oh God, the biiiiig thrill she'd given him when she touched him with her foot. His hand slipped down to his inner thigh and lightly traced the path her toes had taken. He noticed how his skin got softer as his hand moved up his thigh. Had she noticed the difference? He wondered if Scully's skin was this soft, hoped it was even softer. Mulder realized his body was responding to his thoughts when he felt a twitch in his... caber, he thought wryly. He took a deep breath and moved his hand to the next place Scully's foot had been. He tried to duplicate her actions, moving his hand up and down in small strokes, uuuuuuuup and doooooooown... "Scully," he breathed as he remembered the feel of her foot on him, the way her toes had toyed with him. What had she done next? Oh yeah, she'd rubbed in little circles. He lost himself to the memory. "Scully," he whispered as he moved his hand in those same liiiiiittle ciiiircles. He tried to imagine what Scully would have done next if those girls hadn't interrupted. He experimented, picturing her toes in place of his fingers. "Scully," he called again and again as he fantasized about her strong little toes rubbing him, fondling him, moving closer and closer to his... Then suddenly they were no longer in that booth, but here on the bed, and he could feel her body against his... "Scully!" he cried. The connecting door opened with a bang as Scully charged through. "Mulder! Are you alrig..." she started, but never finished because she tripped on the kilt. She "oofed" as her stomach caught the end of the bed and her knees hit the floor. Mulder grabbed the bedspread as he sat up and hauled it over his lap. "What the hell are you doing in here?" he barked. "You called for me," she said, rubbing her stomach. Mulder's face turned red and he ducked his head. "Oh." Scully didn't catch Mulder's blush because her eyes had been drawn to his bare legs. She tilted her head so she could see where the spread didn't reach, and saw nothing but skin from his knees to his hips. She turned to look for what she had tripped on and saw the kilt. Well, you didn't need FBI training to realize Mulder was half-naked, she thought. And it was the good half, she noted with a smile. Mulder misinterpreted it. "This isn't funny, Scully. None of it's been funny." "I really am sorry Mulder." "I told you, I only think you're sorry you got caught." His anger had returned. Mulder pulled more of the spread over him. "Get out of here. I want to be alone." Scully saw there was no arguing with him. She got to her feet and rubbed a knee while walking to the connecting door. "Mulder, I still think we need to talk about everything that's happened today," she said. "Just let me know when you're ready." Mulder didn't answer. She glared at him before pulling the door tight behind her. Mulder flopped back and stared at the ceiling, chastising himself for allowing his imagination to run free. xxxxx Scully sat down on the edge of her bed and crossed her arms. She was mad at Mulder for being mad at her. It wasn't like she'd been the one laughing at him. Okay, maybe she did snicker a bit when she had first seen him in the kilt that morning, but not even a chuckle had escaped her lips after the entire crowd at the Highland Games had seen what he wasn't wearing under it. She sighed, leaned back on her hands and kicked off her shoes. She looked at her toes. They didn't really look like hers, she mused. Maybe that's what happened. Her feet had been possessed by some wanton spirit, and that's why her toes had found their way to Mulder's crotch. She flopped back on the bed. Face it, she thought, you're the wanton one. Yes, she was a wanton woman. Her stomach growled. Wan... ton. Wonton. Chinese food. She checked her watch. It was well past two and they'd never gotten a chance to order, let alone eat, at the restaurant. Putting her shoes back on, she covered her traitorous toes and headed for the Wendy's across the street. She would order a salad, she decided, even though she was tempted by the idea of Biggie Fries. She'd already given in to one temptation today and resolved not to make it two. And to keep her shoes on. xxxxx Mulder was still on the bed, still only half-dressed. He had taken off his boots when he'd gotten up to pee, but otherwise had not moved in the nearly three hours since he'd kicked Scully out of his room. His skin was still irritated from the wool of the kilt, and it felt good to have nothing on. Whatever had possessed him to 'dress authentic'? he wondered. He always wore shirts under his wool sweaters, so why hadn't he put on some shorts? Then his butt wouldn't be itchy. He scratched it while changing channels. He'd spent the afternoon with the TV, looking for mindless distraction of the 'G' rated kind. He'd even watched part of a "Matlock" episode before clicking over to "Walker, Texas Ranger" only to find the same black guy on both shows. He by-passed "Jerry Springer" and stopped at "Montel Williams". He looked at the clock. Half-past five. It was going to be a long night. xxxxx Scully had listened to the low drone of Mulder's TV all afternoon. She'd tried to work, but that just reminded her of why Mulder was mad at her. She tried reading, but couldn't concentrate on her medical journal and didn't want to chance the novel she'd brought. So she'd resorted to the TV, flipping channels a la Mulder, noticing that the same black guy was on "Matlock" and "Walker, Texas Ranger". She had just finished watching "Tropical Update" on The Weather Channel for the third time, when her stomach grumbled. Since the bigger grilled chicken salads had looked like too much, Scully had only eaten a small salad for lunch. But she could go for one now. She looked at the clock. Half- past five. She knew Mulder hadn't eaten, so maybe she could use some Biggie Fries as a peace offering. She headed back to the Wendy's. Ten minutes later, Scully was knocking on Mulder's connecting door. He didn't answer. She knocked again. "Go away, Scully." "I've got food, Mulder. A Wendy's double and Biggie Fries." She cracked open the door and waved the open bag. She sometimes thought fast food was Mulder's favorite perfume. When she didn't get another 'go away', Scully peeked into the room. Mulder was sitting on the bed, with the spread bunched in his lap. Oh God, she thought, he hasn't put on his pants? Mulder was eyeing the Wendy's bag. "Truce?" Scully offered. Mulder nodded and turned off the TV. "Truce." Scully put their drinks down on the nightstand and sat on the other bed. She stole a couple of Mulder's fries before handing them to him and then passed him his burger before pulling out her salad. Mulder tore into his food. "Thanks," he mumbled. "You're welcome." He was through in a couple of minutes. Crumpling up the trash, he shot it at the wastebasket - and missed. "Not my day," he sighed. He idly scratched a hip. Then he scratched the other one. Scully noticed. "What's wrong?" Mulder shrugged. "Wool makes me itchy. That's another reason I should've worn something under the kilt." "Do you want me to look at it?" They both froze. Mulder narrowed his eyes. "What 'it' are you referring to, Scully." She blushed. "I meant where it itches." "It itches everywhere that was covered by the kilt, Scully." "Everywhere?" she squeaked. Mulder gave her an evil grin. "Yes, Scully, everywhere." "Well... ah... all the more reason for me to check you out... I mean, you have to be extra-careful with such sensitive skin..." "Check me out?" "Ummm... look you over." "Why don't you just give me a hand?" He waggled his brows at her. So this is how it's going to be, Scully realized. "I have some hydrocortisone cream. I could apply it to the areas you can't easily reach." Mulder lay back against the pillows, hands behind his head. "That would be nice." "I'll be right back." She dashed into her room and grabbed the tube. And kicked off her shoes. She stopped short when she came back into Mulder's room. He had tossed the spread back and was now sprawled casually in the middle of the bed. And he was half-naked. And it was the good half. He looked at her coyly. "You said you wanted to see it." Scully let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Yes, Mulder, I can see it." And she could. Other than the brief glimpses from his encounter with the leaf blower earlier that afternoon, she had only seen it before under unkind circumstances, like when he'd been sick. But now, when he was healthy... oh God, did he just get healthier? Mulder motioned with his head. "Get over here, Scully." She got. She sat on the bed next to his knees, facing him. It took all the discipline she had, but she looked Mulder in the eye. She could see an amused twinkle as he said, "So, Dr. Scully, what's your professional opinion?" Scully held his stare for a moment before she shifted her gaze to the area in question. She studied it for a full minute, sweeping her eyes back and forth and up and down. She could hear Mulder's breathing quicken as he got even healthier. She looked back up and found the amusement replaced by anticipation. "I believe my original recommendation was correct. An application of hydrocortisone cream would relieve the... symptoms." Mulder sucked in a quick breath and then exhaled slowly. His hands were still behind his head. "You know Scully, in this position I can't reach anything." She smiled. "Then I guess I'll just have to do it for you." "Cream me, Scully." Scully squeezed a dollop of the cream onto her fingers. She rested the other hand on his thigh. "Is this where it itches?" "No, it's more towards the inside." She slipped her hand inwards. "Here?" "No, up a bit more." She moved her hand again. "How about here?" "Yes, Scully, right there," he panted. "Start right there." Scully changed hands and slooooooowly slipped her cream- coated fingers up his inner thigh, her eyes following. His skin was softer than she remembered. She stroked her hand back and forth a few times, indulging in the feel of it. "Scully..." Mulder moaned. She glanced up and saw a big grin crease his face. "Tell me, Scully. Did you get any tips today on tossing the caber?" "Why yes, Mulder, I did. You make sure you have a firm grip on the bottom of the pole..." He sucked in his breath as her hand tightened. "... and then you toss it end over end." "You mean like this?" Mulder grabbed Scully around the waist, pulled her to his chest and rolled her until his end was over hers. She laughed. "Close enough." They held each other's eyes, their faces just inches apart. Scully's breathing became as rapid as Mulder's. She licked her lips. He kissed her. It was a deep kiss, soulful and unhurried. Mulder moved his elbows to shift into a more comfortable position. One elbow hit the remote control and the TV blared into life. Mulder and Scully broke their kiss with a start, and looked at the TV in time to see a news reporter say "...excitement at the Highland Games. The suspect was apprehended by an undercover, or should I say, uncovered FBI agent, as you can see in this home video of the arrest." There, on the screen, for all the world to see, was Mulder's bare behind. It had been digitally disguised for viewing by the general audience, but there was no mistaking what was exposed under those little squares. Scully and Mulder gawked at each other while the reporter droned on, "... and we have witnesses to the whole event. Can you tell us what you saw?" And then they heard giggling. end Author's notes: For you Scots - I looked up info on kilts before I wrote this story (I didn't feel the need with the previous two). It was only after I'd finished and was looking for the word "sporran" (since I'd forgotten what that "little purse-thingy" was called) did I find out that some kilts come with liners. But that wouldn't have been as much fun, would it? Also, Mulder was dressed casually, so no hose or garter flashes for him. Just work boots and socks. Feedback: banlutoo@yahoo.com The conceited part of me wants it, the humble part doesn't, and the insecure part fears it. What kind of answer you'll get depends on which part of me reads it. So send at your own risk.