Title:  Come Ghoulies, Come Ghosties 
Author: ML
Email: msnsc21@aol.com
Distribution: Ephemeral, Gossamer, yes; if you've archived me 
before, yes; otherwise, please just let me know and leave 
headers, email addy, etc. attached. Thanks!
Spoilers: A whole raft of them. 
Rating: PG-13
Classification: S
Keywords: MSR
Summary: Trick or Treat!

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, they belong to 
Chris Carter, TenThirteen, and Fox Broadcasting.  I mean no 
infringement, and I'm making no money.

Dedication:  In honor of Chris B., who was probably a soulmate 
to the Gunmen, and who asked me every year, "What are you going 
to be for Halloween?" and always came up with the most inventive 
costumes for himself.  You raised the bar, Chris, and I really 
miss you.

This is a challenge fic; elements and a few more notes at the 
end.

x-x-x-x

Come Ghoulies, Come Ghosties
by ML

Two Weeks Before Halloween.

All along the wall, there were implements of torture.  Hatchets, 
 knives of all descriptions,  crossbows, and whips.  Ranged right 
alongside them were manacles, handcuffs, spiked collars, and other 
devices whose use he could only guess at.  Muted screams and 
maniacal chuckles could be heard in the middle distance.    

It was harder than Mulder thought it would be, picking out costumes 
for Scully and himself.  He was at one of the Halloween superstores 
that seemed to spring up overnight at the beginning of October.  
Everything there looked either too grisly or too sexy.  He let 
himself enjoy the image of Scully as a French maid or a Playboy 
bunny for a while, but had to admit to himself that while he'd 
love seeing her in one of those getups, he didn't want to let 
anyone else see her that way.  And, more important to him, Scully 
wouldn't like dressing that way, either.  At least, not in public.

Then there were the really cutesy costumes.  Big purple dinosaurs, 
M&Ms, and so on.  But did he want to dress up like that?  Not 
really, he decided, and he wanted them to have costumes that were 
linked thematically in some way.

The grislier costumes were out for more obvious reasons.  When 
you investigated mutants and monsters for a living, it wasn't 
appealing to dress like one for fun.  Not to mention that most 
of the costumes showed a distressing lack of originality.  He'd 
never seen a costume that came close to the Flukeman, or to the 
two-mouthed, Cher-loving mutant from Indiana.

He wondered briefly if Scully would mind just staying home.  They 
could turn all the lights out and watch "Night of the Living Dead" 
or "Child's Play" and compare them to their real cases.  It was 
funny, how life imitated art sometimes.

But he'd seen how Scully's eyes had lit up at the thought that 
they might have a night out, even if it meant going to the 
Gunmen's annual Halloween bash.  They'd never really dated, not 
even before Will was born, and there was even less opportunity 
now.

Scully's mom had offered to take Will for overnight, and amazingly, 
Scully had agreed.  Not actually on Halloween, since it was a 
weeknight, but the Saturday before.  And when Frohike called to 
invite them to their bash, as he did every year, Scully had 
*really* surprised him, and accepted.  It was the first time 
she'd shown any interest in going.

Mulder had gone in years past, but he never showed up in costume.  
He'd hang out, have a beer or two, shoot the shit with Byers for 
a while, and then go home again.  He wasn't very social at the 
best of times, and without Scully there, it had seemed pointless 
to be there himself.

He did remember the costumes, though.  The Gunmen had a lot of 
techno-nerd friends, big surprise, and they went all out for 
Halloween.  The types of costumes ranged from the gruesome to 
the truly inventive.  One year, a guy came as "Steven Spielberg's 
Nightmare."  It had taken him over an hour in the parking lot to 
get all the pieces assembled, but when finished, it was an amazing 
beast.  There was also a fair amount of people dressed in role-
playing costumes; always a few Lara Crofts and Duke Nuke'ems, 
and sometimes even historical figures.  One year, Queen Elizabeth 
I showed up, looking like a portrait, picture frame and all. 

Now, Scully had given him the task of picking out costumes for 
them both.  "If we're going, we're going to do this right," she 
told him.  He didn't want to disappoint Scully.  

Trouble was, nothing in this pre-packaged, corporate horror 
department store appealed to him.  He wanted to find something 
different, and something that wouldn't make either one of them 
feel too ridiculous.  Something totally unlike them, but that 
somehow suited their personalities.

A tall order, that.  

He browsed around the shopping center a bit, looking through a 
bookstore and a video store for inspiration.  As he browsed 
through the action/adventure section of the video store, the 
solution presented itself to him.  He picked up the box and 
looked at the pictures on the outside.  He smiled to himself 
as he took his cell phone out and made a call.

x-x-x-x

The Saturday Before Halloween.

Scully had to admit, Will looked adorable.  She finished 
snapping the legs of his pumpkin costume and leaned over him, 
inhaling the fresh baby-powder and warm-baby smell.  Will 
wriggled around at the feel of his mother's nose in the crook 
of his neck and made a sound that Scully thought was a giggle. 
She crooned a silly Halloween song to him as she put on his 
orange booties:

"We are jack-o-lanterns,
Boo, boo, boo.
We are out to scare you,
Boo, boo, boo.
We have teeth that cannot bite,
In our heads of candle-light,
Don't you think we're funny?
Boo, boo, BOO!"

At the last "Boo!" Scully swung Will up into her arms and he 
shrieked with joy.

At about the same moment, Scully heard an unmistakable girlie 
scream from the bedroom door.

"Scully, what have you done to our son?  You've turned him into 
a pumpkin!"  Mulder came forward to take Will from Scully's arms. 
 "Look at this!  He's all orange!"

"Mulder," Scully said patiently.  "It's the costume Mom gave him. 
Since he's going over there tonight, I thought I'd let him wear 
it.  I think he looks cute."

Mulder shrugged.  "I don't know that orange is a choice I'd make 
with his coloring, but you're the boss."  He held William up and 
looked at him consideringly.  "What do you say, my man?  Do you 
like this?"

William looked at his dad and blew bubbles.

"I'll take that as a yes," Mulder said.  "Hey Scully, you got the 
words wrong on that song, anyway."

"I don't think so, Mulder.  What you know is probably the boys' 
version, which involves dynamite and exploding pumpkins."

"You know that one, Scully?"

"Of course, Mulder.  I had brothers, and they knew that one, and 
all the `censored' versions of Christmas carols and..."

"You mean, `Jingle Bells, Batman smells..."

Will looked interested, though Scully knew he couldn't possibly 
understand what they were saying.

"Yes, Mulder, exactly,"  Scully cut him off.  "I just think we 
could wait a few years before exposing him to the playground 
versions of these songs."

"Okay, okay," muttered Mulder, a little disappointed.  "Take all 
the fun out of it, why don't you?"

Scully smiled a little, but she still said,  "Mulder, it won't 
be all that many years before Will gets the urge to blast the 
crap out of something.  I don't think we need to start early, 
that's all."

"Oh, but --" Mulder's eyes looked at Will in his arms, then cut 
to the diaper pail.

"Don't say it, Mulder,"  Scully warned him.  "Just don't."

Realizing that he wasn't going to win this round, Mulder changed 
the subject.  "When are you taking Will to your mom's?"

"I'm just getting ready to go now," she said.  "Did you pick up 
the costumes?"

"Yep."  Mulder smiled a little.  They were in the trunk of his 
car; they had been for a couple of days.

"Shouldn't I try it on before we have to get ready, so if I have 
to do anything to alter it, I can?" Scully hinted.

"Nothing doing, Scully.  You're not getting it out of me that 
easily."  She'd been trying without success to get him to spill 
the beans for a week.  "I'll have it ready for when you come 
back from your mom's."

"Okay, Mulder.  I'll be patient.  I just hope you didn't decide 
on Matreya or Lara Croft for me."

"How `bout, Xena, Warrior Princess?" he teased.

"And are you going to be Hercules?"  

"You think I couldn't be, Scully?"

She knew there was no point in arguing; she just looked at him 
for a long moment, then took Will from his arms, laying him in 
his crib while she got her coat and his.  She said, very casually, 
no warning in her voice, just a hint of it in her words.  "You 
still have time to exchange the costumes, Mulder.  Just in case."

"Don't you trust me?"  Mulder gave her his most appealing look. 
Teasing Scully was a lot of fun.

"I'll let you know after I've seen the costumes, Mulder," she 
said, and she put her arms around his waist and gave him a kiss.  
"You know what I meant about the song, don't you?"

"Yeah, Scully, I do, and I agree with you in principal at least. 
 There's too much violence in the world.  But I don't think, in 
the proper context, songs about pumpkins exploding will give Will 
a tendency toward violence.  He'll know better, because his mom 
and dad will teach him."

"I know, Mulder.  Just let's not rush it, okay?"  She kissed him 
again, and Mulder returned her kiss with interest.

When he released her, he smiled down into her eyes and said, 
"Does that mean I can teach him the "trick or treat, smell my 
feet" rhyme?"

"Mul-der..." Scully heaved a deep, long-suffering sigh.  "Who's 
the kid here?"

Mulder grinned.  "Dunno what you're talking about, Scully."

Scully smiled and turned to get Will out of his crib.  "I won't 
be gone too long."

"Take your time, Scully," he said, giving Will a goodbye kiss.  
Will chortled again and patted Mulder's cheeks.  "Just be back 
in time to get ready for the party."

"How much time do I need?" she asked, jogging Will in her arms.

"Depends on whether you want to indulge in any ... other 
activities before we get ready," he said, deadpan.

This time it was Scully's turn to act coy.  "I'm sure I don't 
know what you mean, Mulder," she said with a straight face.  
She turned toward the door.

"Hey, Scully..."  He followed her to the door and waited until 
she was looking at him.  "I got your stick of dynamite right 
here," he said suggestively, and bumped her with his hip.

She let her eyes drift down his body and said in a sultry tone, 
"Need help blowing it up, Mulder?"

"Oh, it's ready to go off anytime you're ready, G-Woman," he 
leered at her.  God, he loved it when she took his innuendoes 
and ran with them.  How weird was it to be doing it while she 
held their son in her arms?  It was going to be a real challenge 
when Will got old enough to ask embarrassing questions.

"It's a date, G-man," she promised.  "See you in a while."  She 
slipped out the door with Will.

Hoo boy, it was going to be a long afternoon.

x-x-x-x

By the time Scully got back, Mulder was almost ready.  What had 
taken the longest was getting the wig on straight.  At least it 
was a good match for his hair.  The band was tight and he hoped 
it wouldn't give him a headache.  He'd been letting his beard 
grow the past couple of days, so his stubble was pretty thick.  
He surveyed the result in the mirror.  Not too bad; not an exact 
match, but he thought people would get the idea.  Especially with 
the rest of the costume in place, and Scully by his side.

He'd got the shirt on, and was just getting ready to put on the 
rest when he heard Scully's key in the door.

He stood in the doorway, waiting for Scully's reaction when she 
walked in.  He was not disappointed; her eyes grew round as she 
took in the long hair and the homespun shirt that hung down to 
mid-thigh.

"What's this, Mulder?"  she asked with some suspicion.  Without a 
word he took her hand and led her into the bedroom, where her 
costume, and the rest of his, lay on the bed.

"Sorry, Scully," he said.  "They were out of Eleanor Roosevelt."

Scully looked at the plaids on the bed and back at Mulder.  
"Mulder," she said.  "Where did you get this stuff?"    

He waggled his eyebrows at her.  "I called one of the profs in 
the drama department at school and sweet-talked him into lending 
us some stuff."

"Sweet-talked HIM?"  Scully arched her eyebrows.  "What did you 
have to promise in return?"

"Don't worry, Scully, my virtue is intact," he said with a leer.  
"I'm saving myself for you."

Scully ignored him and picked up the tartan skirt.

"Rob Roy, right?" she asked.  "I loved that movie."

Mulder felt an inward rush of relief.  "What did you like about 
that movie, Scully?"

"Liam Neeson in a kilt," she said without hesitation, but with 
a glint of humor in her eye.

"I had no idea you were so, so -- shallow, Scully," he said in 
mock surprise.

"I like to keep you guessing, Mulder," she said.  Mulder had 
enjoyed teasing her for years, but it was only recently that 
she'd started teasing him back.  She liked doing it, a lot.  
And after he got over the shock of it, Mulder liked it, too.

Mulder finished dressing while Scully took her shower, and sat 
in the living room, surfing the TV while he waited for her.  He 
didn't have to wait for long.

Scully's costume fit her perfectly.  She wore a blouse similar 
in cut to the full-sleeved shirt Mulder wore, tucked into a full 
gathered plaid skirt that almost brushed the floor, revealing her 
feet in soft, flat lace-up leather slippers.  The skirt was 
cinched at the waist by a wide leather belt, laced up in front, 
which had the effect of showing off her tiny waist and voluptuous 
hips and bosom.  She'd let her hair dry in soft waves, and she 
pinned it up in a loose knot on the back of her head, tendrils 
escaping all around her heart-shaped face.  She could have 
stepped out of a book illustration.  All that she needed was 
the background of a hillside blooming with heather.

Mulder looked her over appreciatively as Scully did the same 
to him.

His plaid was not the modern style kilt, but a wrapped and 
tucked affair, wound around his narrow hips and pinned with a 
large silver brooch.  The remainder of the plaid looped up and 
over his shoulders like a sash.  A leather belt was slung low 
around his hips.  His legs were encased in leggings of soft 
chamois-like material, held in place by leather laces.  With his 
tangled, shoulder-length hair, he looked primitive, and noble, 
and very male.  Scully's heart caught in her throat at the sight 
of him.

After a long, silent moment, Mulder made the first move toward 
Scully.  He put his arms around her and nuzzled her neck just 
below the hairline, placing tiny kisses all along it.  "'How 
fine you are to me,'"  he quoted.

Scully took up his hand, and placed a kiss on his palm.  "'And 
you to me,'" she quoted back.

Mulder cleared his throat.  "I think we'd better get going, or 
we might not make it to the party at all," he said unsteadily.

Scully nodded with something like regret.  "I guess we'd better."

"We wouldn't want to disappoint the boys," Mulder said as he 
traced his finger down her cheek.

"No, we wouldn't," Scully agreed, catching his hand in hers.

"But it wouldn't do to be there too early, would it?"  Mulder 
asked a little plaintively.

"No," Scully said slowly.  "We don't want to be the first ones to 
arrive."

x-x-x-x

Several Hours Later.

Mulder did a double-take when a shorter, and sadly ugly, version 
of Scully opened the door at the Gunmen's.  Black suit, high 
heels, and really thick makeup, topped by an improbably red bobbed 
wig...and the scariest part, Frohike's voice issuing from the pouty 
carmined lips.

"Hey, Happy Haunting, you two.  "We thought you'd never come."

Beside him, Mulder heard Scully give a delicate snort.  He ignored 
her as best he could.

"Mulder, what gives with the hair?"

Mulder knew he could look the part, but no way was he attempting 
a Scots accent.  Without a word, he swirled his cloak off and then 
did the same for Scully.

Frohike's jaw dropped when his eyes lit on Scully.  Mulder had to 
admit, she looked ravishing in the Highland garb.  It didn't take 
Frohike's reaction for him to know that.

"Cool," Frohike choked out.  "Come on in."  He was joined at the 
door by a Mulder clone who stood just behind his shoulder.

At least the person rigged out as himself was halfway decent 
looking.  It took him a long minute to realize it was Yves.  
She made a much better-looking man than Frohike did a woman.

"Nice outfit," he nodded to Yves.  She nodded back.

"Wait'll you see Jimmy," Frohike said.  "He's dressed as Skinner."

Mulder guided Scully through the door and into the fray.

Langly, who evidently was dressed like one of the Ramones, brought 
them each a bright blue drink, which appeared to be served out of 
an old toilet.  Mulder peered over the porcelain rim and was 
relieved to see that there was a punch bowl inside.

"Tidee-bowl Kamikaze?" Langly offered.  Scully shook her head, 
but Mulder took a tentative sip of his.  It was strong enough to 
fry his tonsils.  He put it down in an inconspicuous place and 
went to the kitchen to find a beer.  He looked in on the area 
the boys used as a makeshift dining room to see what sort of 
food they were offering.  He and Scully hadn't taken time to 
eat before coming to the party; they'd been busy with other 
activities.

The refreshment room was a sight to behold, and not a pretty 
one.  The area was lit with black light, and the walls were 
splashed with glow in the dark paint in lurid colors.  The 
boys had never progressed much beyond bathroom humor, and the 
food presentation showed it.

Beside the usual bowls of chips and dip, there were bedpans 
piled high with unwrapped Tootsie Rolls.  Chunks of chocolate 
cake festooned with gummy worms, and something that looked 
suspiciously like Spam, with a hatchet stuck in it, dribbled 
with ketchup.  A meatloaf (maybe) formed in the shape of a 
human head.  Jell-O made with colors not found in nature, 
with unidentified objects embedded in it.  In the center of 
the table, a glowing white skull presided over it all, looking 
over a plate that looked suspiciously like liver and fava beans.

Mulder had to avert his eyes from some of the party food.  Not 
much scared him, but a lot of things grossed him out.

He got his beer and looked around the party.  There was the usual 
variety of costumes.  It reminded him of the cantina scene in 
"Star Wars."  Not many women, which wasn't unusual or surprising 
for a Gunmen party.  Also not surprising was the number of eyes 
trained on Scully from around the room.

Scully had found Byers, which wasn't difficult.  He never wore a 
costume, either, claiming that someone had to look presentable 
if the cops came to the door for any reason.  She seemed to be 
enjoying herself, and that meant more to Mulder than anything.  
He looked around to see who else he knew, and caught sight of 
Skinner's shiny head on the other side of the room.  What was 
he doing there?

When Skinner turned around, Mulder realized that it was Jimmy, 
whose makeup job was damned good, except his teeth stuck out a 
bit too much, and he smiled more than Skinner had in his whole 
life.

"I'm Walter FREAKIN' Skinner!" he was proclaiming.  It sounded 
like he'd been partaking a bit too much of the Tidee Bowl.

The weirdest thing was seeing that he had his arm around Yves 
in a very chummy way.  Yves, who was dressed like him.  It gave 
Mulder a very strange feeling.

Scully was in great demand all evening for dancing.  Mulder had 
to rescue her a time or two from over-zealous partners.  He also 
managed to dance with her a little.  What pleasure it was to hold 
her in his arms under such circumstances.  He thought vaguely that 
he should take her out on a real date, and go somewhere they 
could dance.

The thought of a whole evening of dancing with Scully sounded 
like a wonderful idea to him.

The party was a rousing success.  No (real) blood was spilled, no 
one got sick in the Jell-O, and everyone seemed to have a pretty 
good time.  Mulder and Scully took their leave of the Gunmen and 
walked through the chill autumn air to their car.

"Well, Scully," Mulder said, his arm around her.  "How do I measure 
up to Liam?"

"Never having seen Liam in the flesh, as it were, it's hard to
 say," she said with a grin.

She was getting a lit-tle too good at this innuendo game.

"Come on, Scully.  At least tell me I look as good in a kilt 
as he does."

"Oh, I think you look better," she reassured him.  "You have 
better legs."

"That's more like it, G-woman," he said, giving her a kiss.

She batted her eyes at him and quoted, "'Come ghoulies, come 
ghosties, come long-legged beasties, and things that go bump 
in the night.'"

"Which am I on that list, Scully?"

"You're my long-legged beastie, Mulder."

"I kinda hoped I could be the `thing that goes bump in the 
night,'" he pouted.

"Maybe later, G-Man," she said silkily.  "If you promise to 
show me what you've got on under that kilt."

end.

x-x-x-x

This was written for the IWTB Halloween Challenge.  Elements:  
-Things that go bump in the night (well...<<g>)
-Something that glows in the dark (the quesstionable food and 
the walls at the party)
-A costume (lots and lots of costumes!)
-A skeery monster (made mention of two: Fluukeman and the 
Great Mutato. And then there's Frohike! <g>)
-Reference to a horror movie (again, two: NNight of the Living 
Dead and Child's Play)

I was looking for an excuse to put Mulder in a kilt...DD 
looked so delicious last year at the RTM premiere in 
Scotland!  And I knew Scully would look fetching in 
Highland garb, as well.

And I couldn't help myself, I love those little pumpkin 
outfits for babies, and I knew Will would look adorable 
in one!

Thanks for reading; feedback is gratefully received and 
responded to at:  msnsc21@aol.com

Find my other stories at the site that Kimpa built:
http://www.kimpart.com/mlfic.html