Title: Men and Boys
Author: Katherine Scully
Series: The X-Files
Timeline: After Mulder's return (so post-DeadAlive, but NOT a DeadAlive Post-ep).
Feedback: Come on, don't make me beg.
Archive: ATD, TLS and SHODDS can have it if they want it. Also eventually at MTA. Anyone else please ask first.
Disclaimer: The X-Files and all related characters are property of Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. No copyright infringement is intended.
Note: Response to SHODDS challenge: Doggett in a bar fight.
Men and Boys
By Katherine Scully
Scully drove towards the west end of Washington, replaying the conversation she'd just had over in her mind.
"Is this an Agent... Scully?" the male voice on the other end of the phone had asked when she'd picked up.
"This is Sergeant Jenkins over at the 123rd Precinct. We'll need you to come by and retrieve your partner from our holding cell."
"Mulder? What's he done now?" it was the only person she could think of who would be stupid enough to get himself arrested.
"Um, no, Agent Scully, it's Agent..." there was a pause as the sergeant had apparently checked his notes. "Doggett." Scully was silent for a moment, digesting this. Doggett? In jail?
"What's he done?" she asked, still stunned.
"He got himself in a fight in a bar. Knocked one guy unconscious and was pounding the snot out of some other guy. Did you say you're familiar with Agent Mulder?"
"Yes. He's my other partner."
"Ah. You'll want to retrieve him from the hospital in the morning, they're keeping him overnight for observation. He's the guy Agent Doggett knocked out." She was silent for another long pause.
"How drunk was Doggett?"
"About two-thirds of a bottle of vodka."
"Damn!" Scully had exclaimed, thinking the worst punishment to give Doggett would be to wait until tomorrow morning when he had a hangover to yell at him. She knew she wouldn't do that, though. "I'll be there soon," she said.
"Right." Jenkins had hung up and Scully now found herself pulling into a parking spot in front of the 123rd.
She parked her car, got out, locked the doors and went into the building. She spotted Jenkins immediately, behind a desk on the phone with three lights blinking. He hung up and looked at her.
"Can I help you?" his voice was the same as it had been on the phone.
"Sergeant Jenkins?" she asked. He nodded. "I'm Dana Scully."
"Can I see some identification?" he asked. She displayed her badge for him.
"Right this way." He grabbed a key ring and headed for a door at the other end of the hallway.
She heard his voice almost as soon as they walked through the door, loud and drunk and singing cheerfully. He didn't even seem to know where he was. She glanced down at the mug of coffee she'd brought with her and wondered if it would be enough.
"Has he been doing this all night?" she asked. Jenkins nodded.
"Yes, ma'am, from the moment he was brought in."
"Oh, brother," she muttered. She shook her head in annoyance as they arrived at the cell where Doggett was detained. He was oblivious to the world around him, singing happily.
"Daaayyyyyynnaaaaaaa," he drawled excitedly when he spotted her. She couldn't help but smile as Jenkins opened the cell door and Doggett plodded over to her and swooped her into his arms in a bear hug. Scully's heart pounded but she forced her voice to be firm.
"Agent Doggett, put me down!" she commanded. Reluctantly he released her, and she took his hand. "Let's get you home and sober," she said.
"You're takin' me home, Daaaayyynnnaaa?" he drawled. God, she loved that drawl. Even drunk, his voice sent shivers down her spine. The tender way he said her name touched her heart. John Doggett made an adorable drunk. "We hardly know each other," he said. Scully shook her head, smiling, and, dragging Doggett along by the hand as he stumbled drunkenly after her, she followed Jenkins back out to the main office.
"Sign here please, Ms. Scully," Jenkins said, handing her a form. She signed by the X (the irony of that didn't escape her) and pulled Doggett outside and loaded him into her car.
As they were driving to his apartment, the singing continued. She glanced over at him, wondering how drunk he truly was, and decided to see if he could handle answering a question.
"Why did you hit Mulder and that other man?"
"Cause," he said. "The udder guy instt-ulted you an' Mulder didn't say nothin'. The udder guy called y'a paranoid bitch." His voice was bitter, and Scully realized he'd been defending her when he got into that fight. "Mulder shoulda defended you. He din, so I did."
"That's so sweet, John,' she said, genuinely touched. "Who was the other guy, John?"
"Dunno. Mulder seemed ta know 'im. Smoked like a chimney."
Did you go drinking with Mulder?" Scully asked, wondering about the man who smoked. The Cigarette-Smoking Man? Drinking with Mulder? If it was him, the insult made sense. He could have been trying to get a rise out of Mulder or John. Agent Doggett, she corrected herself.
"Yeah. He wan' t' talk. Old smokey guy comes over to our table. Starts talking to Mulder. Mulder seemed ta know him, not happy ta see him. Then he insulted you. Mulder din say nuttin. Sho I did." Doggett slurred.
"What did he talk to Mulder about?"
"Dunno. Some case. Talked a long time. I jus' drank," Doggett said. How curious, Scully thought. Mulder was talking with the Smoking Man about a case and Doggett didn't think anything was unusual about that? Interesting.
"We're here," she said. "I need your keys." She held out her hand, and he placed them in her palm, but grabbed her wrist and kissed her fingers lightly, sending a jolt of electricity up her arm.
The third key fit the lock, and she was inside his place. She led him into the bedroom and told him to lie down. He nodded, but swooped her into his arms and kissed her deeply. Scully allowed herself to respond to his kiss but she made sure she was the one to break it off and push him back despite her body's reactions to his closeness. It ended far too soon.
"John," she told him firmly, trying not to sound breathless though she doubted he would notice in his state, "go to sleep."
"Only if you come with me," he said, pulling her towards him and kissing her again. She wanted to, oh God, she wanted to, but she refused to given his condition. She firmly pushed him back and insisted he go to bed alone. She would sleep on the sofa. He obediently kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the bed. Within minutes he was snoring.
Morning found Scully with a stiff neck from sleeping on Doggett's couch, awaking to the sound of a loud groan and a flushing toilet. The bathroom door opened and a haggard-looking Doggett stumbled out.
"Are you all right, Agent Doggett?" she asked him. He glared at her.
"Don't yell, Scully, please. I haven't been this hung over since high school," he said. "Were you here all night?" he asked. She nodded.
"I wanted to make sure you were all right," she said. She went into the kitchen and started opening cupboards.
"What are ya doin'?" he asked. She smiled.
"Drink this," she said, handing him a glass. "It tastes awful but it works like a charm on hangovers. It's a family secret," she said. Obediently Doggett drank, then grimaced, and she started pulling food out of the fridge.
"Now what?" he asked, his tone curious rather than annoyed. She glanced at him.
"You need to eat, as much as you might not feel like it. We both have to work today," she said. Doggett groaned.
"Trust me, you'll thank me later," she said, making omelets for both of them.
"Dana, whatever that stuff was that you gave me this morning really did work. I feel great," Doggett said two hours later as they were both hard at work in the X-Files office. Scully smiled.
"I told you," she said. He tossed a paper ball at her and missed. He grumbled something incoherently.
"Scully... Dana... I want you to know I really appreciate you coming to┘ rescue me last night. It was above and beyond the call of duty," he said. She shook her head.
"That's what friends are for, John. I've done the same thing for Mulder more times than I can count," she said. Doggett nodded.
"Well, thanks," he said. She smiled at him.
"Any time." She looked away from him, her thoughts dwelling on the kisses he'd given her last night, as he studied her face. He knew there was something that he should remember that had happened last night before he fell asleep, but damn it, he couldn't put his finger on it. Scully wasn't talking, and damn, he wished he could remember. He knew it was something important, something crucial to their relationship, but he didn't have a clue what it could be. He wished he did; anything that happened with Scully was something he wanted to remember. He knew he was in love with her; he only wished he knew if she felt the same way.
Scully could feel his gaze on her but was determined to ignore him. She wondered if she should tell him about the kisses last night, but decided not to. He would remember on his own, and when he did, and he remembered how much she had enjoyed them, who knew where their relationship might end up?