Language Barrier by Windle Poons

TITLE: Language Barrier
AUTHOR: Windle Poons
E-MAIL ADDRESS: arrakis99@hotmail.com
RATING: PG-13 for language (in any country…)
CATEGORY: SH
SPOILERS: None
KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully, Scully/Krycek, Mulder/Krycek, Skinner/nobody (I'll make it up to him), Humour
ARCHIVE: Anywhere you like, just drop me a note so I can come visit.
FEEDBACK: Yes, please! Do you like it? Hey, cool! Does it blow? Let me know! And why you thought so.
DISCLAIMER: The X-Files Universe and all who live there belong to CC, 1013 and Fox. Stan the Singing Telegram Man belongs to me. No infringement intended, no profit made.
SUMMARY: Sometimes words have a way of meaning different things to different people…
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Many thanks to Amanda Finch, Ashlea Ensro and Rachel Ehrentren for letting me variate on their theme "Alex Krycek: Slightly Mundane Portrait of a Soccer Mom" (which I strongly urge you to seek, find and read). And Heather Scotland, who was the first person to laugh at the early stages of this.
AUTHOR'S FEEBLE EXCUSE: This story was born from a thread on atxc about language use, and how some words change meaning when they cross the Atlantic. The first two parts were "tinyfics" I attached to notes; a few people liked them, so I fleshed it out. Enjoy.

After a long day catching up on the interminable mountain of backlog filing, Mulder was feeling inspired. And venturesome.

"It's a British expression that I picked up when I was at Oxford, it means to--"

"I'm aware of what 'shagging' refers to, Mulder. I just never…you know…saw the two of us having a shag."

"Agent Mulder, Agent Scully, I just wanted to drop off this file…Agent Mulder, why are you getting undressed?"

"Good. Anyway, I'll leave you two to get back to…whatever it is you were doing…"

Skinner sat in his office later that night, poring over a hardbound, unabridged edition of the "Dictionary of British Euphemisms" by the muted glow of his desklamp. His eyes widened as he located the interpretation for each phrase he'd heard in the basement office a few hours ago.

He flipped through the pages until he found "Horizontal Mambo". His jaw dropped slightly.

Carefully, he closed the large volume and placed it on his desk. Leaning back in his chair, he removed his spectacles and massaged the bridge of his nose. Sometimes, he thought, it feels like everybody in the Bureau is 'getting some' except me…

Agent Mulder trotted along the office corridor, carefully checking the contents of each supply closet he passed. He was eagerly searching for some twine, even a ball of string would do. He wanted to show Scully the 'Bristol Rope Trick' he'd learned at Oxford. It took three participants to do it properly, but what the heck…they'd managed every other position over the past four hours…

Looking down the hallway, he realised he was approaching the Assistant Director's office. Of course! Kimberley always kept office supplies handy. Maybe Skinner had the key to her desk. He bounded through the outer office and opened his boss's door.

Skinner looked up, noticed the flushed, grinning agent, and rose from his chair. "What can I do for you, Mulder?" he asked, approaching him.

Mulder trudged back into their office, one hand cupped over his nose. Scully hopped off the desk, dismayed. "Mulder! What happened to you?"

"Huh?…Oh, God, Mulder - your nose is bleeding. Here, tilt your head back." Producing a handkerchief, she began to minister his wound. "Who did this?"

"Skidder," he replied, wincing. "I tried to ask him if he had any string, and…*wham*."

"Well - the good news is, nothing's broken," she smiled at his puppy-dog frown. "There won't even be any swelling. You're really lucky."

"This isn't a very good end to the evening," he apologised. "I never even found any rope."

"I've got some parcel twine at my place, " she said, "that is, if you still want to…"

She wondered just how hard Skinner had belted him. "Well, okay…I'll meet you at my place - say, half an hour?"

He shrugged, smiled and nodded. Watching her depart, he silently hoped the twine she'd mentioned was tensile-strength.

Scully hummed a little tune to herself as she prepared her home for Mulder's arrival. Soft music wafted through the rooms; scented candles created a warm, fragrant glow; there was a bottle of red wine and two glasses on the coffee table, next to which sat an abundant coil of brown packaging cord. She'd changed into a lace-edged silk negligee and matching satin dressing gown, and was dashing a touch of cologne behind each ear when she heard a knock at the door.

Smiling to herself, she adopted what she hoped was a seductive pose in the doorway opposite the main entrance. "Come in…"

The last thing she expected was for Alex Krycek to respond to her lilting invitation. He burst in, slammed the door shut, and strode purposefully toward her, ignoring the carefully-orchestrated backdrop.

"I'm sorry to drop by so late, Scully," he announced, "but I'm not sorry for what I'm about to say next. I've been wanting to say this to you for years.

Her arm dropped from where she'd draped it on the doorframe. "You…want to shag me?"

"Yes, it's a British expression I picked up when I was dating Mulder, it means to--"

"I know what it means, Alex, I just-- hang on a minute," her eyebrows climbed upward, "when you were 'dating Mulder'?"

"Yes - I thought everyone knew," he replied. "But that's not important right now. All that matters is I've finally found the courage to tell you how I feel."

"No, hold it!" she cut him off. "I'm still getting my head round you and him together. I mean…you…and - and Mulder…"

"Thanks. Dana, ever since I first laid eyes on you, I've wanted to grab hold of you, throw you onto something soft - well, comfortable, anyway - and shag you til the stars rained down…"

"Sorry, but just thinking about you gets me carried away," he grinned sheepishly. "So…how about it?"

His face looked so hopeful, his eyes pleading for her acquiescence. But she had a bottle of wine and a coil of rope with her partner's name on it, and she wasn't about to pass up an opportunity like that. She took a deep breath, preparing to tell him to go jump up a sheep's butt…

…and was cut off by a loud, long report from a car horn in the street outside. This was directly followed by a sing-song voice calling "A-a-a-a-a-l-e-e-e-e-x!"

Krycek's face registered faint surprise, then growing dread. "Oh, no," he groaned, "not now. Please, not now…"

The car horn blared again, and a shrill cry rose again, louder: "A-a-a-a-l-l-l-e-e-e-x! HEY - ALE-E-E-X!!"

Scully cocked her head at the bizarre clamour. "Did a drunken frat house drive you over here?"

"Excuse me - this won't take a moment." He moved to the closest street-facing window, opened it and leaned out. Curious, Scully joined him.

Parked outside her building, directly below the window, was the longest station wagon she'd ever seen; a "stretch" model. It was gloss black, with smoked-glass windows. If a repainted schoolbus hadn't been handy, and they'd ever converted to death metal, this was the vehicle Mrs. Partridge would have taken her Family on tour in.

The pale, greying head of an Elder poked out one of the side windows and peered up at them. Scully's breath caught in her throat. The Consortium!

"A-a-ale-e-e-x," the Elder whined petulantly, "First Elder just snatched Second Elder's stiletto, and now he's refusing to give it back! And Second Elder called Fourth Elder an 'Altzheimie', and now Fourth Elder won't tell us where he hid the ice cream money!!"

Krycek shook his head. "Five minutes, that's all I ask, but do they ever give it to me?" he muttered. More loudly, he called down "Tell First Elder I said he has to give the stiletto back, and I'll pony up the ice cream money. Now just behave yourselves, like you promised! I'll be down in a few…well, twenty…uh, better make that thirty-- no, forty! Forty minutes, tops!"

Another elderly gentleman's head and shoulders popped out of an adjacent window. "Alex - when are we gonna leave? You said five minutes! It's been way more than that! You promised you'd take us to Pizza Hut after the meeting, Alex! You pro-o-o-o-mised!!!"

"I said I'd take good world-government-controlling domination masterminds to Pizza Hut, not misbehaving moaners!" he glared at them. "Now, just sit tight! Why don't you read those international arms trade negotiation contracts I got for you, huh?"

The first old man's face suddenly cramped with pain. "OW!" he howled. "Ow! Ow-ow-oooow! Alex! First Elder's giving everybody monkey-bites and calling us 'dickless weiners'!" His face popped back in the car briefly. "Quit it, penis-breath!!" Other cries of pain and protest joined the din.

Alex drew in a deep breath, then bellowed "IF I HEAR ONE MORE PEEP OUTTA YOU, THERE'S GOING TO BE A GROUP OF VERY SORE BACKSIDES SITTING AROUND THE CONFERENCE TABLE TOMORROW!! DON'T MAKE ME COME DOWN THERE!! GOT THAT?!"

A few moments of relative silence, then a barely-audible, whispered deliberation emanated from the car. The first gentleman poked his head out. "Sorry, Alex," he mumbled, grinning.

Pointing a warning finger at him, Alex drew himself back inside. Scully jumped at the sudden tattoo played on the station wagon's horn. Alex was back at the window light a shot.

This seemed to do the trick. He closed the window, drew the curtains, and turned to Scully. His gazed softened. He took a tentative step towards her. She was mentally composing a swift but tactful rebuff, when she was saved by three sharp raps on her front door.

Mulder - thank God! she thought. Her voice all innocence, she mused "I wonder who that could be, at this hour?"

A cheerful young man in a bright red, old-fashioned Cablegram uniform, complete with a pillbox cap perched jauntily on his head, entered and approached with sharp, clicking steps amplified by well-shined tap shoes. Smiling happily, he asked "Special Agent Dana Scully?"

The dapper fellow's smile became even broader as he announced "Telegram for you, Agent Scully!" He intro'ed his snappy song and tap number with a flourish and a hearty: "Dah-daht Dah-daht Da Daaa!

"I hate to bring your mood down But why are you dating those two clowns?
One's got a face like my butt
The other's just plain nuts
Please let me take you out on the town!"

With that the singing telegram man rose, blinding smile back in place, removed his cap, bowed, then sharply about-turned and exited her apartment.

"What did he mean 'A face like my butt'?" Krycek fumed. "I never did like that little dweeb."

Further discourse on the unexpected floorshow was annulled by Mulder's sudden entrance. Finally! Scully thought, relieved.

"Hey, Scully, we might not need that rope after all--" Mulder stopped dead at the sight of his nemesis standing next to her. He glared, his hands balling into fists.

Krycek's reaction was no less emotional. He squared his shoulders, eyes sparking.

"You two-timing slut!" Krycek shot back. "You said I was the only one in your life!"

"That was before you slept with the entire Forensics Department behind my back, you tramp!" Mulder cried.

Dumbfounded, Scully turned her gaze from one to the other as the retorts flew; a casual observer might have assumed she was watching a rather distressing tennis match.

"And they were a lot more fun than staying home every night, waiting for you to call!" Krycek rebuked. Just then, his eye fell on the coil of twine. His temper crumbled slightly. "You…you're going show Scully the 'Bristol Rope Trick' - aren't you?"

"You - you always said you'd never do it with anyone else but me," Krycek whimpered.

"Oh - come on, Alex," Mulder rolled his eyes. "It takes three people to do it properly."

Krycek's betrayed tone was cut off by a car horn being pounded on in a blaring, staccato refrain from outside. He closed his eyes and silently counted to ten.

"I have to go," he stated, "But don't even think I'll forget this, Mulder. The next time you want some 'Cossack Love' - call the Russian Consulate!" Blinking back tears, he strode out of the apartment and slammed the door behind him. After which a wrenching, heartbroken sob was heard in the hallway, fading towards the elevator.

Mulder breathed out. He looked at his shell-shocked partner. "Scully, I promise you - he means nothing to me." He looked past her, at the inviting scene she'd crafted. "Wow…you did the place up. There's candles, and everything…"

She snapped herself out of her reverie, and looked intently at her partner. Deftly tugging at the sash, she let her dressing gown slide gracefully off one shoulder. "Screw him. I seem to remember, you were coming over for a purpose."

"That's right, mister. We've got wine, we've got twine, and we've got plenty of time. Mulder…"