Title: Double-Decker
Author: The Warfarine Dealer
Written: 1996
Disclaimer: Fox Mulder and Dana Scully are not mine. They belong to Chris (who I can't put anything in here because my sister says it'll ruin her chances with him) Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th Century FOX Broadcasting. I just borrowed 'em and I promise to put them back where I found them... only slightly used and a little flustered...
Rating: Just about the same as all the others... PG... Nothing too, too offensive... It's just for fun.

Oh boy... another 'Bed-Series' chapter. These are real fun. Not only are they funny, but I can write them in one night. Credit goes to my posse at school who helped with the ideas of the entire series and credit goes to Sheryl Martin, who, whilst unaware, inspired me to the bunk-beds with Downtime 3 part... whatever... I haven't read it yet... sorry Sheryl... Fiona was taunting me over the phone... :-)

Summary: Mulder and Scully investigate a haunted camp and get a little surprised when faced with the accomodations...

Comments, suggestions and flames are always welcome. Though, I should add, the flames will be used for various things. Warm my house, roast weenies, toast marshmallows (even if I don't like them that much) and well... amuse me because I love fire. :-)

Camp Wannabeathome

The door to the small cabin swung open, sending a gush of cold air and rain throughout. The occasional flash of lightning illuminated the dark room; thunder providing the sound.

Dana Scully tossed her bags into a corner and shook the water dripping off her jacket toward the floor. The door slammed shut and she turned to see her partner deposit his baggage in the same spot; the water sliding off him making a fast puddle on the floor.

He shook his head and water flew around him in a shower. Finally focussing on the room, he sighed.

"Oh this is great," he said. "All we need now is Alfred Hitchcock."

"Don't blame me," Dana told him, running a hand through her wet hair.

"Why not? It *is* you're fault we're here."

"Hey." She pointed a finger at him. "Skinner gave me this case. I didn't have a choice."

"You were volunteered."

"I was volun-told."

Mulder huffed and peeled the soaked jacket from his back; throwing it on a chair. He wasn't very happy with his partner. He knew this case was a hoax. It had it written all over it.

<Haunted camp,> Mulder mocked to himself. <Maybe in Friday The 13th.> He bent over his bag and dug around, finally pulling out a pair of jogging pants and a tee-shirt.

"I'm going to change," he said. "I'll be back in a minute."

Lucky for them, there was a small room in the back. Probably for storage of extra blankets or pillows. Scully used this time to change herself.

A few minutes later, Mulder emerged and walked up beside Scully. She looked at him then to thecorner of the cabin.

"So..." she said, breaking the silence. "You want the top or the bottom?"

"Okay," Mulder said from undreneath his partner. "You promise no more practical jokes? No natural disasters or locking people up in small spaces?"

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" Scully's mellow voice floated down to him.

Mulder snorted inwardly and pulled the blanket to his chest.

It had been a couple weeks since the last incident. Scully locking Mulder in the wall of a hotel with a bed was the least of his problems that night. The next morning, he woke up with the worst neck cramp he had ever had.

Yeah, he supposed she should be telling him to cut out the jokes too but...

<Hey, it's my turn.>

Mulder shifted uncomfortably in the tiny bed he was given for the night. <Bunk beds,> he huffed to himself. <Like to go one on one with the jerkoff who set this up.>

Naturally, when you go to investigate a haunted camp, you can't expect better accomodations than a cabin and bunk beds.

Which, of course, he and Scully had to share. His small partner seemed to be having a eventful rest. At least, she wasn't moving...

<Damn bunk beds,> she thought to herself. She shifted slightly. The bed, lucky for her, was just her size, but it was so old, there were about five springs sticking into her back in five different places. <I bet Mulder's sleeping like a baby, the little shit.>

Mulder pulled out his pen and scribbled on the bottom of Scully's bed along with all the other graffitti.


He smiled and put the pen away. For some reason, that satisfied something in him that really needed out. The only problem was... He was bored and there was no way he was ever going to fall asleep on this thing. Narrowing down the possibilities of any activities, he decided he could:

a) try to go to sleep


b) bug Scully

<Hmmmmm..... Tough call....> Deciding on the most humane, and considerate thing to do, Mulder put his feet on the bottom of the bed and pushed...

Scully's eyes shot open and she sat up in bed. She looked around and found nothing wrong. Mulder grinned widely and tried not to laugh. Frowning, Dana lay back in bed and closed her eyes.

Feeling her sink back down into the mattress above his head, Mulder shifted down onto his back and lifted his feet up.

It happened again. Scully bolted up in her bed and nearly fell out the other side.

"Mulder, what the hell are you doing!" she whispered harshly at him.


Dana hung over the side of the bed to look at her partner. He was sound asleep. She leaned back, convincing herself that she was just imagining things when Mulder pushed her up again. This time, she hung over the side, but she did it a little too soon and the force of Mulder pushing the mattress up, sent her over the side.

She landed with a loud thud. Mulder cringed and listened silently, not wanting to move. She groaned.

"Ow... Dammit." She sat up, feeling for any bruises and glared at her partner's back. She took a deep breath and put on a evil smile. "Mulder?" she asked sweetly.

<Oh god. oh god ohgodohgodohgodohgod!> He closed his eyes, pretending he was asleep.

"Mulder, you awake?"

<Oh, I am sooooo dead.>

He turned over, his back facing her. Scully kneeled and leaned on the side of his bed. She looked at him for a moment until...

<Hmm. A bald spot. How did that get there?> She reached for him. <Might as well just even it out.>

Grabbing a single hair, she yanked it swiftly, pulling it out of his head. Mulder jerked, but didn't move. She frowned. <Damn his pain tolerance.> Getting to her feet, Scully climbed back up into her bed. She slid down underneath the blanket and stared at the ceiling; reading the graffitti. She smiled slyly in the dark.

<You've won for now, Agent-my-name-is-mud.>


October 22, 1996

"I have so much to do, I'm going to bed."
--Savoyard Proverb

"You think about this all day, all night?"
"No. I usually obsess about chocolate."
--George and Sam in Profiler "Unholy Alliance"

Stay tuned for the next installation...

"Creativity is sparked by the need for something to do when there's already something to do."
--The Warfarine Dealer's motto

Death to Ratboy!! >:-)

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