Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the television program "The X Files" are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting, and Ten-Thirteen Productions, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. Archive: MSSS: Yes Gossamer: No Usenet: No Cert: R - actually this could be a 'G' since it's all in your imagination anyway Notes: I had such good feedback on Hors D'Oeuvres that I decided to try something similar, so here's another gourmet PWP. The title came out of a discussion about satyrs and grapes that I had with Spooky - who says slash isn't intellectual ? Feedback: If you would care to offer some feedback then send a note to 100257.1177@compuserve.com Satyrical Grapes by Pollyanna = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = It was rare that Skinner ever sat in on a stakeout, but in her last report Scully had managed to convey the impression that there was a little tension amongst the team. Skinner was not really surprised; placing Mulder with any other group of FBI agents was akin to lighting the blue touch paper and waiting for the explosion. It had been a frustrating stakeout anyway, they had been watching the abandoned factory for several days and nothing had happened. No, it was worse than nothing happening, since there had been frequent comings and goings all day, just not the person they needed. The on edge anticipation had left everybody's nerves shredded. Only Skinner's calm presence had prevented bloodshed amongst the watching agents. Skinner, Mulder and Scully had retreated for the evening to a Chinese restaurant where they sat in a discreet booth, and attempted to discuss the case without mentioning any names or locations. The debris of the meal had been efficiently cleared away and a tastefully arranged fruit bowl placed in the middle of the table with accompanying fruit plates and knives. The restaurant was almost deserted. The tables in the middle were all empty and only a few side booths like theirs had any occupants. They all sat mulling over the disastrous day; Skinner was staring into the distance, absent-mindedly but methodically shredding a paper napkin. The strain of having to be the voice of reason and authority all day was obviously beginning to tell on him. Mulder and Scully watched him for a moment, exchanged glances, and then after a quick look round to check no one was watching them, Mulder slithered under the table. It was a symptom of Skinner's distraction that he first noticed this when a pair of hands unzipped his trousers. "What... ?" Skinner had enough presence of mind to restrain this to a strangled yelp. But it still caught the attention of their zealous waiter who hurried over. "Could we have the bill please?" asked Scully sweetly. The waiter scurried away and Scully was left alone to face the glare from across the table, which she did with equanimity. "Mulder!" hissed Skinner furiously, seemingly with no effect as he twisted in his seat. A muffled voice floated up from under the table. "You're not making this very easy, Sir. There's not much room to manoeuvre down here." Scully bit her lip and looked down at the tablecloth where she spotted the fruit knives. She palmed one and passed it under the table with the muttered instructions 'behind you, Mulder', and then with a serious expression but dancing eyes spoke to Skinner. "This is probably a good time to sit still, Sir. We don't want to have any accidents." As a distinct ripping noise was heard, Skinner looked at Scully with an expression he usually reserved for traitors and bureaucrats. He was prevented from saying anything scathing by the return of the waiter with the bill. "Do you want me to sign this, Sir, or would you prefer it to go on your expense form?" Scully asked calmly. Skinner seemed a bit distracted, but with due concentration found his wallet and dug out his Amex card. The waiter left with it, and Skinner's hands shot under the table, only to reappear quickly with a curse as he examined a finger in disbelief. "He bit me!" "Just be thankful it was only a finger. What lovely-looking grapes!" Scully reached towards the fruit bowl and detached a small bunch of grapes which she placed on a plate in front of her. She then proceeded to eat them. Pulling each one tenderly from the bunch, rolling them in her fingers to check for imperfections, placing them in her mouth where she sucked for a few seconds, and then pressing them between her tongue and the roof of her mouth. Skinner watched in horrified fascination as she worked her way through the bunch. His hands were clenched together on the table and fine sweat was breaking out on his forehead. "You and Mulder really are telepathic, aren't you?" there was a note of desperation in Skinner's voice. He greeted the arrival of the waiter with the relief of a legionnaire finding a palm tree in the desert. He signed his name with some care, since his hand seemed to have developed a tendency to clench suddenly, and accepted the receipt and carbon copies, carefully placing them in his wallet. Then watched the retreating form of the waiter with the despair of a man left to die amongst ravening beasts. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Scully and Skinner both regarded the fruit bowl with anticipation, but with completely different emotions. "I was wondering about trying one of the bananas, but that's more Mulder's fruit. He really enjoys them. Have you ever seen him eat one, Sir?" Scully paused and looked at Skinner enquiringly, as if she really expected him to carry on a conversation. "No? Well, it's a real vaudeville act. He pulls down each side slowly... one strip at a time... from the top to almost the very bottom... leaving just a little bit he can hold on to. Then he starts taking little bites, no, they're more like nibbles... but not just at the top... he takes them out from all sides of the banana, so you never know where he's going to strike next. I think he sees it as a challenge, trying to make it last as long as possible. Are you OK, Sir? You're looking a little pale." Skinner chose this moment to look yearningly at the door. He seemed to be calculating just how long he would take to get there, and if he was likely to ever need to visit this restaurant again, or this city, or this state. Scully decided that he needed to be distracted from any such wayward thoughts, and began speaking again. "Eventually he has to take a big bite from the top, and then he usually sucks that... then it's back to the nibbling, and so he works his way down... nibbling and sucking until he's got the last little bit in his throat... and then he swallows." Skinner hissed a moan between gritted teeth, but not quite quietly enough, as the efficient waiter homed in on their table. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = "I wonder if we could have a jug of iced water and some glasses? My friend has just found a piece of chilli lodged in his teeth." The waiter looked at Skinner who certainly appeared to be in some distress, and almost ran to the kitchen. Skinner only had time for one last-ditch struggle before he returned with a jug and glasses; he quickly poured a glass for Skinner and watched with solicitude as he gulped it down. "I think that's helping. If you just leave the jug, we'll call you if we need anything else. Thank you," said Scully. Scully poured herself a glass, and sipped it demurely while watching Skinner. He was sitting, or being held, on the edge of the seat, and he had put down the glass to clutch at the edge of the table. His jaw was clenched and he was breathing quickly, the dome of his head was gleaming with sweat in the subdued lighting. "Still a little hot, Sir? I think I've got the answer to that." Scully reached into her glass and retrieved an ice cube. As it went under the table Skinner shot her a beseeching look, but they both heard the clatter of the cube against teeth. There was a sharp intake of breath from Skinner that was almost a whimper, and he tried to press himself through the back of the booth. "Just be thankful it was you who had the Szechuan King Prawns and not Mulder, Sir. Then you'd really have a problem with chilli." Skinner did not seem to appreciate this sentiment, or more likely did not hear it, since his attention was well and truly distracted by now. By a superhuman effort he was keeping quiet, but was squirming and wriggling in a vain attempt to escape. Scully watched in fascination as he began to thrust and pondered quite what explanation she was going to use if the waiter chose this minute to come and check on them. She popped an ice cube into her mouth and began to suck hard. The heat and the pressure began to dissolve it, and as she swallowed the last small piece Skinner shuddered to stillness, collapsing back in his seat, his eyes closed. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Mulder appeared from under the table, his hair was ruffled, his cheeks flushed, and the gold flecks in his eyes performed a dance of unholy delight. Skinner's eyes opened just in time to see Mulder's tongue come out and clean the top of his lips like a cat that wanted to make sure he had left not a morsel of cream. Mulder grabbed a paper napkin and quickly wrote on it 'I.O.U. one pair of white cotton boxer shorts' and signed it with a flourish before handing it to Skinner. "Don't worry, Sir. I won't claim it on expenses. Might be a little difficult to explain to the auditors." Skinner did not say anything. Whether this was because he was beyond words, or he could not think of a defamatory enough epithet for his rogue duo, or anything less than strangling Mulder seemed redundant, was not obvious from his glacial expression. He carefully checked his trousers, picked up his raincoat from the seat beside him, slid out of the booth, and stalked to the door. "And I was just going to offer him this fortune cookie I found on the floor," sighed Mulder. "What does it say?" " 'You are the centre of every group's attention.' " "Uncanny. I think we ought to head back to the hotel, Mulder. Do you have your key?" "Of course I do, here it is, 402." "I thought you were 403." "Oh dear, it must have somehow got muddled with Skinner's." Mulder's attempt at an innocent tone of voice left a little to be desired. "Perhaps it's just as well, he was still looking a little tense when he left." Scully, however, did an excellent impression of concern. "My thoughts exactly. Shall we go?" = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Their waiter escorted Scully and Mulder to the door. He was obviously concerned about Skinner's hasty exit. "I was sorry to see your friend leave so quickly. I hope the chilli didn't spoil the meal for him?" "No, he really enjoyed the food." Scully assured him. "In fact we all enjoyed it. The fruit bowl at the end was a particularly nice touch; it makes a refreshing finish to the meal. Don't you agree Mulder?" "Yes, we'd come back just for that any time." Scully opened the door, and Mulder followed her through, as he pulled it shut, he popped his head round the door, to give the waiter some final reassurance. "I'm sure our friend will be back, in fact, I think I can guarantee he'll come here again..." THE END