From: FredaX Date: 30 Aug 2001 19:09:58 -0700 Subject: NEW: All Shook Up, by FredaX (pt 1/1) Source: atxc TITLE: All Shook Up, pt 1/1 AUTHOR: FredaX RATING: PG CATEGORY: Um. . .er. . .I declare this piece "Funfic," lol, with a side of MSR ARCHIVES: Yes, yes, feel free. . .just keep my headers in tact, and don't be afraid to tell me about it! FEEDBACK: Oh, yes, PLEASE! I'd love to hear from all of the Elvis fans out there! Send all feedback to fredaxfanfic@yahoo.com SPOILERS: Not really. General knowledge of the show applies, I suppose. SUMMARY: ROAD TRIP! With the boys, no less. After a pretty quiet start, Mulder gets a little loose, and Scully, well. . .she watches in amusement. AUTHOR'S NOTES: So I get an urge to write another fic with no discernible point. Mulder and Scully on the road. . .then I decide we need to get the Gunmen in there, for some added fun. What could make it even better? It came to me in a flash, really: Elvis has entered the fic. To Angie, who kind of asked for it. . .then talked me into posting it: Your constant support has meant a great deal to me, girl, as has your friendship. After spending months getting to know you through your wonderful site. . .then actually getting to know you more directly in the last weeks. . .well, I couldn't have asked for a better Phile for a friend. Oh, and one more thing: Could nobody, please, hold this fic against me? If you need to blame someone, blame Angie. It's all her fault. *sits back, then feels guilty enough to add:* That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it. DISCLAIMER: They're not mine. The "Hard-Headed Woman" and "Big Hunk O' Love" with the "Suspicious Minds" belong to CC and company. And the three-man band isn't mine, either. Come to think of it, nothing but the plot--or, rather, lack thereof--is mine. So. . .ya know. . .1013, Elvis Presley Estate. . .don't sue me. Please. *holds up hands in surrender* ******************** RURAL HIGHWAY 11:21 PM *Okay, five miles to. . .what's this? Oh, right. And then turn off onto. . .there. . .and then 128 miles to Dansville.* He shook the map lightly to flatten out the crease, squinting his eyes in the darkness. *Okay then.* He glanced up at the road in front of him, then refolded the map as best he could with one hand. He laid it in the seat next to him, replacing his hand on the steering wheel. The black night stretched out endlessly before him, broken only by the two high-beams emitting from the front of the van. He sighed. Hearing movement from the back of the vehicle, he looked up at the rear-view mirror. "Agent Scully?" She looked up at his reflected eyes and smiled lightly. "I thought that you'd be asleep as well by now." He watched her get up from her seat, hearing at least one of the men's murmurs of protest as they shifted in theirs. He refocused on the highway as she took the seat next to him, setting the map on the dashboard after refolding it correctly. "Did I wake you?" She took a breath and pushed a stray lock of auburn hair behind her ear. "No, actually," came her alto voice, husky from lack of use in the last few hours. "I wasn't asleep. I don't see how they can be comfortable, practically piled together with all of that equipment. Too many bodies, too bumpy." He looked down at his hands. "I'm sorry," he said. "I should have asked them to clear you a place. We're not used to. . .such distinguished company. Usually it's just us three, so we don't need as much room. . .and considering how Mulder lives. . . ." He left the sentence unfinished. "It might be quite the mess, but we know where everything is that way." He smiled. "As juvenile as that sounds." He scratched his beard, adding, "Not that I wouldn't appreciate more organization myself." She grinned at him. "Don't apologize, Byers. I know that you mean well. And. . .well. . .I'm sorry to sound so. . .demanding. I'm just tired, I guess." She looked back at the sleeping trio. Langly was closest to them, just behind Byers' seat, burrowed into the corner between the side of the van and the grating that separated the front from the back. His arms were crossed protectively in front of him; his blond hair hung loosely from his head, and his glasses were askew on his face. He slept comfortably. Frohike and Mulder filled the rest of the seat quite completely between them. Mulder's long form took up two-thirds of its length; when Scully had left her place between the men, he had fallen into the gap created. He was jarred awake only for a moment to moan his displeasure, quieting after finding the next available brace: Frohike, who leaned to his own right. Now effectively supporting each other, the pair made quite the picture. Scully smiled at the thought of them waking up in that position; she anticipated that they both would, with manly grunts, deny that they had ever slept together so peacefully. Her smile widened at this thought, as she turned back toward the windshield, reaching to retrieve her seat belt. Seeing her grin, Byers took another glance at the rear-view. "Do we dare tell them how adorable they looked once they awaken?" "And me without my camera." "We have a digital in the back." She chuckled. "How much further?" "From my calculations, just under five to the nearest town, 133 to our destination." She let out a deep sigh. "Goodness. It feels like we've been on the road for hours already." She looked over at him. His jaw was set and his eyes were ever-fixed on the highway, with his hands firmly planted at ten and two. "Do you want to switch at the next stop? You must be exhausted yourself." He, too, let out a breath and smiled. "I'm not very tired, Agent Scully. I'll be all right. Perhaps you should get some sleep, though. That seat is probably the most comfortable one we have to offer you." "I'm not tired, Byers. And I still think that I should drive. You need a break." "The next stop, then." The pair fell into a silence that continued through the small town. Glancing at the gas gauge, he made a mental note to stop for fuel at the next one as he took the turn indicated on the map. The lights of the community had long since faded behind them before one of them spoke again. "It's funny to think. . .it feels like the rest of the world is asleep when you're out on the road late at night. Sometimes I wonder. . .who those people are, who live in all of those quaint little houses on those quaint little streets in those quaint little towns." He looked over at her in surprise. Was she talking to him, or making an observation? He had never really talked with Agent Scully; they had worked together in the past, and they had discussed cases, of course. . .but he had never really had a *conversation* with her. The thought of it seemed odd to him somehow. He always associated her with work, with Mulder, with the x-files. Truth being told. . .he was quite in awe of her, quite impressed by her. She was a very intelligent, very beautiful woman. Women like her usually never associated themselves with men like them. It was something akin to the homecoming queen associating with the nerds in the AV club. She never acted that way, though. Say what she might about them, roll her eyes and cross her arms though she may. . .he knew that she still considered their opinions. Which was more than most others did. In fact, sometimes, she sought them. She was fascinating, really. What was he supposed to say? "Like several separate systems, yes? Each seemingly unaware of the others until they cross paths outside their doors. They all have separate agendas. . .separate wants, desires, that drive them forward. . .each have their own bodies to care for, to preserve. . .each with a different center that the bodies revolve around. It's very intriguing to me. . .so many of these systems that--together--make the whole. . . ." He gripped the wheel a little tighter. "How did you end up in this one?" She looked over at him. "What?" He glanced at her briefly before returning his eyes to the road. "It's none of my business, I know, and I won't blame you for choosing not to answer me, Agent Scully. But--" He looked up at the rear-view mirror again, making sure that his voice wasn't disturbing the men's rest. "You're here. And I was just curious as to why." "Shouldn't I be? I was assigned to this, Byers. To the x-files." "Well, yes, I know. But. . .technically. . .*this*--" He indicated the van and the road before them. "This doesn't have anything to do with the bureau. This is just. . .a field trip, as it were. A UFO convention for those fascinated with the paranormal. In reality. . .very few of the stories that these people tell have any basis in truth. It seems that. . .it's mostly just a ploy to get ignorant people to buy alien-related merchandise. But there are some persons--and these are the ones we try to seek out--whose stories are very real, and can prove beneficial to our research. *Technically*. . .this isn't your job. It may have no effect whatsoever on your work." "Call it. . .curiosity, then." She saw him look over at her doubtingly. "That, and. . .Mulder can be very persuasive. He seemed to think that I would get something out of this." "Ah, that's it. I should have guessed." She smiled. "You don't think I would have come on my own?" "Honestly, Agent Scully--no." She laughed, then checked herself. She turned to look at the men in the back of the van. None had moved. "Well, it's true. I probably would have thought of another way to spend my weekend." She glanced back at Mulder. "But then. . .it probably wouldn't have been nearly as interesting in the end." He studied her, his own curiosity piqued. There were several things that she could have meant by that. He considered the options. Her gaze was still fixed on the sleeping men--no. Just one, he observed, peering again into the mirror. She was very watchful of her partner. Byers had known Mulder for years; as clumsy and inept as he could be, sometimes, as oblivious to his surroundings and other possible explanations. . .Mulder still took care of himself pretty well. He *had* managed to survive the 31 years before Agent Scully's entrance into his life and work. These days, though, Byers couldn't help wondering how. Without her guidance, without her unseen shield surrounding him, protecting him. . . . Amazing, really. That she could so effortlessly become part of his life, part of him. . .without either of them noticing. She looked back at him, and he looked back at the road. "There, ahead. That should be Galesburg. Pit stop." They entered the sleeping town, and pulled into the first all night service station that they came upon. He checked out the prices as he stepped lightly to the ground. "Per gallon? *There's* a conspiracy we should crack." After flipping open the cover, he unscrewed the lid of the gas tank. "Agent Scully? You might want to wake them. I don't want to have to stop again for an unnecessary bathroom break. We'll be on the road long enough as it is." She nodded her assent, fully aware that he couldn't see it, and undid her seatbelt. Crouching a bit, she stepped into the back of the van. "Langly. Langly," she whispered, shaking him gently. "Five more minutes, Mom. Just five more. . . ." She raised an eyebrow. Mom? If she were *his* mother. . . . "Langly, it's Agent Scully. Wake up. We're making a pit stop." He blinked sleepily at her, then sat up quickly with a sharp intake of breath. "Oh, Agent Scully. Where are we?" "About 100 miles from Dansville. Galesburg, to be precise. Gas station. Byers is filling the van." She moved on to the other two as she spoke to him. She regarded them for a moment, hands on hips. The van shifted slightly as Langly climbed out the driver's side door. She heard him greet Byers and get a response before he plodded on to the glass doors. She really didn't want to wake them. She really didn't. Partially because they just seemed so. . .content. . .and partially because she rarely knew Mulder to sleep. She was sure he needed it. She watched quietly as his chest and abdomen rose and fell regularly with his breathing. His face was lacking in expression. His brow was relaxed, showing no sign of the mental struggle that so regularly went on behind it, no sign of worry or anger. So. . .peaceful. A light rapping to the tinted window of the back door brought her out of her reverie. She knew that it was Byers, gently reminding her that she really needed to wake them. She heard his footsteps lead away from the van to the building. She leaned over Frohike. "Frohike?" She prodded him with her hand. "Frohike?" "Mmmmf?" came the reply. She smiled. "Frohike, wake up. Pit stop." "Mmmmf mmf." She rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Frohike, let's go. Don't make me drag you out of here." He opened his eyes and grinned at her. "Promise?" "Get your ass out of the van, Frohike." "Shall I take the rest of me, too?" He sat up, causing Mulder to slide down further on the seat. He looked down at him, then up at her. "Tell me we weren't--" "Out," she murmured. "Hell," he said, getting up slowly and clumsily, his limbs stiffened from sleep. "I was hoping that was you." He smoothed what was left of his hair back, and stepped around Scully to the back door, closing it firmly. The bang caused Mulder to squirm. . .but he remained asleep. She kneeled down at his side. Maybe she could just--no. Mulder had downed one of those fantastically huge fountain drinks from the convenience store they had stopped at last in only a few minutes. If he didn't use the restroom now, she was quite sure he would need to whenever he did awaken. She brushed the hair from his forehead back with her fingertips. "Mulder?" Her voice was low and warm. "Mulder, it's me." He shifted a bit in the seat. "Mulder? We're getting out. I'm going to get a drink, and the guys are using the facilities. Do you want anything?" He rolled on to his side, turning to face her. She thought she spied the slightest of smiles on his face, and she got up abruptly. When she spoke again, her tone was sharper than before. "You're already awake, aren't you?" He opened his eyes to look at her. "If I say no, will you whisper sweet nothings to me again? I kinda liked it." She crossed her arms over her chest. "How long have you been awake?" "Just long enough to hear you tell Frohike to get his ass out of the van." "Get *your* ass out of the van." She pushed by him to get out of the back of the van and slam the door behind her. "Yes. Just like that," he mumbled to himself as he stretched his legs out in front of him. Rising as much as he could in the van, he rolled his shoulders as he stepped to the front and climbed over the driver's seat to exit. ******************** "Hey, dipwad--" He looked up at Frohike, who turned from the selection of bottled drinks. "Take a look at this." The little man took his place next to the blond, peering at the periodical while simultaneously smacking the taller man in the back of the head. Neither of them seemed to think anything of the interchange; the clerk, however, looked at them quizzically. "Check it out: I had a two-headed monster's love child." "Pfft," responded Frohike. "You *are* a two-headed monster's love child." "That wasn't even funny," Langly responded, putting the magazine back on the rack. "One the scale of freakishness, I rank above you, so I don't even want to hear about it." "Why don't you both shut the hell up? Neither of you even *rank* on the scale of freakishness, so *I* don't even want to hear about it." Mulder grabbed the cooled cappuccino drink from the refrigerator. "Says a lot about you, doesn't it, Monster Boy?" Mulder turned to glower at Frohike. The short man's grin caused him to drop the act, however, and he laughed. "You got me there." Scully turned from the register to look at them. It said a lot about her, actually. She turned back to the counter and handed her money to the clerk, who gave her a look of pity. She smiled at him. Now she *really* felt bad; a gas station attendant felt sorry for *her*. She picked up her drink and followed Byers to the door. He hung back a moment to hold it open for her and to turn to the others, who all seemed ready to make their purchases. Feeling secure that they would follow shortly, he went out behind her. ******************** Mulder climbed in the passenger side door with a mischievous grin. Scully turned to regard him from her place in the driver's seat. "It's about time, Mulder." "I got distracted." "Easily done," she muttered. "Ha. . .ha." He turned back to the Gunmen, all making themselves comfortable in the rear of the vehicle. "Does this tape deck work?" Langly looked up from his snack, the package to which he'd been endeavoring to open for the last five minutes. "Huh?" Mulder motioned to the deck in front of him as Scully started the van. "The tape deck work?" "You bet," Langly replied, refocusing on the wrapper. "We use it to listen to surveillance tapes all the time." "Good." Mulder reached into the paper bag in his lap. Scully pulled out of the lot, eyeing Mulder warily. "What are you doing?" She watched as he peeled a plastic wrapper from a small rectangular casing. "Road music." "Dear god, no," she softly muttered. He shot her a look and a grin, then opened up the case. Pulling the tape out, he bent to survey the tape player. "Um. . .ah. There." The tape slid in, and Mulder took hold of the volume control. No more than a few beats of the first song had escaped the stereo before Langly and Frohike cried out enthusiastically. After adjusting the volume accordingly, Mulder took to dancing in his chair, employing as many Elvis-moves as he could in a seated position. Bopping his head and pouting out his lips, he winked at Scully before breaking out into song. . .Elvis-style. "*Well-uh bless my soul, what's-uh wrong with me, I'm itching like a man--*" She tried to keep her eyes on the road. If she didn't look at him, maybe he would become bored with his cheap impersonation. . . . Oh, no. The boys in the back broke into song behind her, and she winced. Oh, please, god. . . . "*Well-uh please don't ask me what's-uh on my mind; I'm a little mixed up but feelin' fine. When I meet the girl that I love best--*" Each of the three men held the pose. "*My heart beats so it-uh--*" And simultaneously broke it, singing the last few words in the line with full force. "*SCARES-UH ME TO DEATH!*" Scully felt herself smiling. *Just don't look at them, just don't look at them, just don't look at them.* Mulder continued the song alone, his impersonation never wavering, while the Gunmen started a synchronized dance in the back. "*Well, she touched my hand, what a chill I got. . . .*" His serenade continued, and Scully kept her eyes firmly fixed on the road. The song ended, and she felt Mulder look over at her. "C'mon, Scully, get those little legs movin'." She looked at him and he grinned. "I meant dance, Scully. How can you not--" The next song began, and Mulder broke off to begin another foolish routine. "I'm driving. That's how not, Mulder." He ignored her, wagging his head to the beat of "Teddy Bear." The song was over quickly, and Mulder was about to reply to her when "Jailhouse Rock" burst over the speakers. From his seat, and from her vantage point--not looking directly at him--she could see he was doing a pretty damn good imitation of the movie's dance sequence. Glancing up into the rear-view. . .so were the others. Side one ended as suddenly as it began. "That's it?" She looked at the deck. "Cheap tape," Mulder replied. "I picked it up for a couple of bucks." "In a gas station." "In a gas station." She looked over at him, then up at the guys' reflection. She smiled. "Well. . .what's next?" Mulder's grin widened as he fast forwarded to the other side. "Ooh, slow dance." Mulder rocked to "Don't," his face bearing exaggerated sorrow. Halfway into the song, he joined it. "*When the night grows cold, and I want to hold you, baby, don't say don't.*" The boys chimed in with surprisingly good harmony. "*Don't, don't, don't.*" Noting Scully's faltering attempt to ignore him, Mulder dove in for the kill. Sliding out of his seat onto the floor between them, he took a knee and began singing to her with all of the patheticness he could muster. "*If you think that this is just a game I'm playing--*" Her eyes widened in shock, and the van swerved a bit. The three in the rear momentarily lost their seating, then began laughing and smirking as they righted themselves and resumed background vocals. Mulder held out his hands imploringly, then clasped them in front of himself in Romeo fashion. "*If you think that I don't mean every word I'm saying, don't, don't. Don't feel that way. I'm your love and yours I will stay.*" He put a hand over his heart. "*This you can believe: I will never leave you. Heaven knows I won't. Baby, don't say don't.*" She looked down at him incredulously. From the back, she heard the Gunmen wrap the song: "*Don't. . .please. . .don't.*" There was a moment of silence, and all four men looked at Scully. After a beat, the van filled with her laughter. She looked back at the road, then at the mirror, then again at Mulder, who seemed relieved that she took it so well. "All hail the King," he muttered. He then attempted to pull himself up from his position, and grimaced. "Oh, ow. I think I pulled something." Her laughter brightened as he lifted himself into his seat. ******************** The pain was soon forgotten as the next song began. Scully had watched with amusement as Mulder resumed his "Elvis On Tour" persona, and kept an eye on the guys in the back. When the second side ended, they'd used the break to discuss their own favorite singles, and the supposed "mystery" surrounding Presley's death. Mulder was very engrossed in the conversation, turning frequently to make his point to Langly or Frohike with a point of his finger. Scully had listened to this for some time, the music having resumed appropriately beneath the arguing. Glancing once at the clock, then again at the mile marker at the side of the road, she judged that they were very near to their destination. Looking up, she realized that Byers agreed with her, as he also had his eyes fixed on the road ahead of them, the map unfolded in front of him. Their eyes met in the rear-view mirror. She smiled at him. *See what I mean? *Much* more interesting.* Byers shifted in his seat, resettling into a more comfortable position. He'd watched Mulder's performance earlier with admiration. As uninterested as she had seemed in the whole production, Mulder had never wavered in his attempt to draw Scully into it, in his attempt to make her laugh. He'd succeeded completely, of course; from that point on, her presence in the caravan was not as ambiguous as it had been. Byers thought he'd caught her listening intently to their babbling once or twice, even opening her mouth to join it. She hadn't, however, perhaps feeling out of her league. Mulder would turn and grin at her periodically, giving a wink before becoming more vocal on his position. She'd smile softly and turn back to the road. *She brings him her strength; he brings her his humor.* Byers looked back up at the rear-view mirror to meet her gaze again, the smile still faint on her lips. He returned it, and rejoined the conversation. ******************** END