TITLE: Home Team (1 of 1) AUTHOR: Sagan RATING: G CATEGORY: MSR; V SPOILERS: The Unnatural, Post-Existence SUMMARY: "I believe there ought to be a Constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter – and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last for three days." DISTRIBUTION: Ephemeral, ATXC, KTF; others please ask but ok. DISCLAIMER: If I had Chris Carter's money, I'd burn mine. FEEDBACK: is better than an RBI. sagan@twinparadox.org NOTES: Copious amounts, at the end Home Team By: Sagan " - knew a guy, was a big baseball player, back in hiiigh school. Could throw a speedball by ya, make ya feel like a fool –" "Mulder –" a plaintive voice wafts up the stairs from the kitchen. "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain," he mutters, casting a wary eye over the banister. "Just no Bruce, okay?" "Is it an aversion to the Boss, Scully, or New Jersey as a whole?" "New Jersey *is* a hole, Mulder –" Mulder ambles around the bedroom, making tiny swirling patterns on the plush carpet with his toes. "Whoooaaaaaa, put me in, coach! I'm ready to play, t'day –" He turns on his heel and leans in and sings to his reflection in the mirror. Four fingers and one sharp-nailed thumb tap his chin. He catches a pea-sized fingertip between his lips and gives it a gentle nibble. "What is it with you today?" The lilt in her voice makes him smile. "What's with *today* today?" he counters, continuing his dance around the room. He peeks through the mini-blinds, absently toying with the cord. "You're full of yourself, that's for sure," she says, her voice growing louder. He hears her socked feet scuff up the hardwood stairs before she shushes across the hallway carpeting. She has clean clothes laid over one arm. She pauses for a moment in the doorframe. He turns around when her hand caresses his bicep. Leaning down for a kiss, his eyes twinkle seconds before he surprises her with a noisy, wet kiss on the cheek. "What time's the game tonight?" she asks, wiping at her slobbery cheek. He checks his watch. "Seven thirty." He stifles a yawn. Scully speaks while she sorts through a dresser drawer. "Did you happen to catch a nap today? I know we didn't sleep much last night -" Mulder fixes her reflection in the dresser's mirror with a smiling leer. Her cheeks flush. "I take it that means you didn't see the stack of neatly typed pages next to the computer?" He watches from across the room as she rummages through the lower drawers. She stops. "Oh?" He nods slowly, still dancing at the window, watching the sun fall behind the trees. "Yep. Last three chapters are in the can. Tommy finds Gina after the CIA storms the embassy, hanging to life by a thread, living on a prayer." She slides her arms around his chest, hugging him from behind. "Don't tell me any more. I'll read it when we - Did you say living on a prayer?" She drops her arms, stepping away. "Yeah. Living on a prayer." "Tommy and Gina -? Living on a prayer -? Yeah, you thought of *that* on your own." She stares at him, arms crossed. "Yeah." "I think Bon Jovi will beg to differ with you, Mulder. You can't just *borrow* two characters from a song and write a story about them." He steps in front of her, blocking her way. "Scully, take my hand." She rolls her eyes and slips her hand into his. "We'll make it. I swear." She fights back a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. "Whoooah, we're livin' on a prayer." He pulls her by the hand until she is close and spins her around once before pushing away, dancing, laughing softly. "Mulder, we don't have time for –" "Fine. But this is the last dance. Last chance, for love. Yes, it's my last chance for rooomaaaance toniiiight –" he croons. "You've got *that* right – " "I need you. By me. Beside me. To guide me," he continues in falsetto. "You've been cooped up in this house too long. You're a walking '80s jukebox," she grins, still swaying with him. "I'm a juke. Box. Hero. With stars in my eyes." Running her fingers through the hair behind his ears, she pulls his head down for another kiss. "Really, Mulder. Help me decide so I can start the bath." She nudges him toward the bed where she's laid out several outfits. "Where's the Yankees cap?" he asks, scattering the clothes in his search. "The O's aren't playing the Yankees," she sighs, straightening the clothes again. "Now, *choose*." "But Scully, a Yankees cap fits in everywhere. It's like a Rolling Stones shirt. And the older, the better." He sits on the side of the bed, smoothing a hand along the soft shirts as she heads into the bathroom, unbuttoning the cuffs of her blouse. "Pick something. Your Grays jersey is in the closet if you want to wear it, although it's supposed to be hot and humid tonight, Fox Mantle" she says over the roar of the water filling the tub. Mulder is standing again, looking at the assortment she's laid out, humming and singing quietly. "Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio? A nation turns its eyes on you, woo woo woo -" Scully emerges from the bathroom, clad only in Victoria's laciest secret from the waist up, still wearing the black dress pants she'd put on that morning. Mulder turns and looks at her, his eyes large and leering as he takes in her appearance. "What's that you say, Mrs. Robinson?" he waggles his brows at her playfully. "Joltin' Joe has left and gone away, hey, hey, hey?" "Coo coo ca-choo," she winks. She grabs an Orioles shirt and a pair of shorts from the dresser, and gives him another kiss before stepping into the bathroom to turn off the water. Mulder watches her shapely backside as she exaggerates her swinging hips. "Heyyy-batta-batta-batta-batta-suhWING-batta." She shakes her head at him. Laughing to himself, he turns his attention back to his assignment. "Which is it gonna be – some infernal Orioles crud or –" He eyes the dresser. He springs to action and rifles through the drawers. "We've struck pay dirt, kiddo. Can't go wrong in a t-shirt and jeans. Whaddaya think about this?" he says, laying a severely wrinkled shirt next to the pressed jeans shorts. (Leave it to Scully to iron jeans shorts.) "Let me see -" she says from behind him. She chuckles at his selection. "I wondered what happened to that shirt," she smiles and brings the shirt to her nose, inhaling deeply. "It was crammed in behind the bottom drawer, but we rescued it." Mulder stands, swaying, watching Scully for a moment. "I can put it in the dryer for a few minutes, let the wrinkles fall out – " "If I'm not mistaken," she holds the shirt out at arms length and looks closely at the front, "it's got a stain that I never could get out." Mulder's elation deflates at her recollection. "But I don't think it'll matter after a few Boog's Barbecues and an order of nachos or two..." "It'll be fine, mom," he says, patting Will on the back. Scully turns and wraps her arms around Mulder's neck, squeezing the child between them. He kisses her nose. "Do you really want to go tonight, Mulder?" "What, and give up seats above the dugout? Will was looking forward to watching the Angels beat the shi –" Her eyes widen at him. "*sugar* out of the O's before the Yankees beat the Angels. Weren't you, big guy?" Mulder says, bringing a sleeping and content Will away from his shoulder to face Scully. "I don't understand why he falls asleep when you sing to him but shrieks in terror when I try." She kisses his chubby cheek and holds his hands. Mulder lays the child on the changing table, and wrestles to unbutton the sleeper and get it off Will without waking him. Scully leans in and blows gently on his bare baby belly. "One word, Scully. 'Jeremiah'." She picks up the baby as Mulder removes tiny socks from tiny feet. She stares at him, one brow arching to her hairline. He smiles wanly. "Will lights up when he hears you talk to him, so maybe if you *say* the lyrics instead of singing –" "Great. I'll end up sounding like William Shatner in a Priceline dot com commercial." They laugh at the imagery. She kisses him, this time their lips lingering as they rub noses. A tiny hand on the side of her face interrupts them. Mulder tickles Will's ribcage as Scully nuzzles the boy's neck, squeals of delight dissolving her worries. "I'm so happy you're awake, yes I am –" she coos, rocking him in her arms. Mulder kisses first Will's forehead and then Scully's lips, his hand holding her to him. "It's time for a quick bath. Time to splash mommy..." "We're gonna be late, Scully," he teases. "We'll be ready in twenty minutes, won't we, Will?" she says, picking up a clean diaper and the jeans shorts from the bed. The two of them head into the bathroom. Mulder puts the other shirts back in the drawer and throws the wrinkled 'Daddy's Little Slugger' shirt over his shoulder. On his way to the laundry room, he stops in the doorway of the bathroom. There, his wife is bent over, removing their son's diaper. She says baby things to him that make him cackle and kick his baby legs. She talks in a singsong voice as she lowers him into the warm water. His eyes are focused on hers, a puzzled look that breaks into a four (barely there) toothed grin. Laughter fills the bathroom and follows Mulder down the stairs, becoming bright and off-key. "Take me out to the ballgame. Take me out with the crowd. Buy me some peanuts and crack-er-jack, I don't care if I *never* get back." BOTTOM OF THE NINTH TIED GAME RUNNERS ON FIRST AND THIRD SAGAN STEPS TO THE PLATE AND POINTS TO LEFT FIELD NOTES: The following artists' works appear without permission: * Bruce Springsteen, "Glory Days" (from "Born in the U.S.A.", 1984, Columbia Records) * Bon Jovi, "Living On a Prayer" (from "Slippery When Wet", 1986, Mercury Records and also available on the new Bon Jovi CD "Live 1985- 2001" at a record store near you. Me? Obsessed?) * Donna Summer, "Last Dance" (from the "Thank God It's Friday" soundtrack, Casablanca Records, 1978) * Foreigner, "Jukebox Hero" (from "4", 1981, Atlantic Records) * John Fogerty, "Centerfield" (from "Centerfield", 1985, Warner Brothers Records) * "Take Me Out To The Ball Game" is public domain. Much like Mulder and Scully should be. Thanks to my fine feathered Duckie friends and special thanks to a real Harry Carey of a friend, Rah. Couldn't have done it without you. (As always) ~Sagan May 25, 2001 http://www.twinparadox.org Check out the Pond-o-fun... http://www.justduckies.org