From: "Trustyone" new fic ppl!!! don't flame me too harshly... and sorry for any corss-postings! Title: Pet Peeves and Creature Comforts Rating: PG Classification: SH Spoilers: Any eps showing Scully's dog, Mulder's hatred for Bill and Mulder's oh-so-neat bedroom Keywords: Mulder/Scully UST Summary: Mulder has battled with the forces of darkness, in many shapes and forms, but how does he cope when looking after Scully's dog? DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Scully and the fluffy dog that was *brutally* killed off by the alligator in season three belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox Broadcasting... and for the record I was in no way a part of the animal's death... Author's notes: Well, I have *finally* started to write fiction again. Both my fanaticism and fic-writing has wavered recently due to starting college. How do they expect you to do work when you need more time than there is available in a day? I have seriously considered giving up sleeping for a while... but then I got too tired and went to bed (God, do I have will-power or what?!). Well, on with this little ball of fluff (the dog) and Mulder. P.S. All comments to me at Trustyone@thewebbs.demon.co.uk No flames for typos are given the time of day. P.P.S. Thanks to Kath. Her computer monitor is slowly dying on her yet she still has the ability to mail me with XF and Buffy thoughts (even though its getting more sporadic by the week!) and to Mark, who is living the same educational hell as me and surviving a la sans sleep and social life! Cheers Mark! Also, may I take the time to say thank you to the following ppl: KillTheBee@aol.com, Liz McDonnell, Esther Nairn, Mindy O, and ISIS51@aol.com for varifying the gender of Queequeg for me (well it ended up being 4 to 1 in favour of male!). Now enjoy... --------------------------------------------------------------------X Pet Peeves and Creature Comforts By Trustyone --------------------------------------------------------------------X ----------X Mulder's apartment Washington DC, Saturday 10:43am The door swung open and was immediately followed with the erratic rhythm of unsteady feet. Mulder groped blindly for the doorframe and waddled through into his apartment. He was carrying various pieces of equipment that Scully had insisted he have and they were obscuring his vision. Scully appeared behind him, trying to not laugh at the struggle Mulder was determined to face alone; as he often did with his narcissistic and egomaniac nature. Scully patiently held Queequeg on the lead and waited for Mulder to expectedly dump all the objects on the floor, which he had just done and the noise had startled the creature at her feet, who she was now trying to restrain and stop from running out of the apartment. "Now Mulder, Queequeg gets a bit nervous in new surroundings. Mom had a tough time cleaning up after him the first time she dog-sat," "Great." Mulder was less than enthused about babysitting, or rather dog-sitting, the dog. "You know you didn't have to offer to do this," Scully said *again*, letting Mulder get out of it, even at this late stage. Mulder shook his head *again*. He was going to baby-sit the dog. . As much as he valued his partner and their professional status quo, he really wanted to know what had come over her to name the dog *that*. He had a vague idea it was another Moby Dick link but he was still curious. "You're sure?" Scully asked. She was a little nervous at letting Mulder look after Queequeg. He couldn't even keep his fish alive long enough to name them. But in a way it was her fault... **********Friday********** FBI Headquarters "Mulder," he toned, picking up the office phone. Answering the phone was now an unconscious reflex and paired with using his surname. Maybe if he hadn't joined the bureau in the hope that he would find the answers to the questions of life, he could answer the phone saying 'Fox' ... or even 'Hello' the next time his mother called. His listened absent-mindedly as he pondered other answering-the-phone sayings and then handed the receiver to Scully. "Scully," the same, but feminine, monotone sounded. "Is he okay?" The mild concern lifted Mulder from his 'Encyclopaedia Of Bigfoot And Other Strange Beasts' and glanced at Scully. Slight creases furrowed her pale brow as she listened carefully, and unconsciously nodded into the phone. When she replaced the phone, she went to her side of the desk and collected up the notes she was working on. "Anything wrong?" Mulder broached. "Bill has managed to hospitalise himself after stupidly trying to clean out the guttering of the house. He's never mastered the concept of having someone steady the bottom of a ladder. Any way, his broken a few bones and Mom wants to get up there ASAP, and she doesn't have a car at the moment, so..." she trailed off. He realised this meant an unexpected trip to San Diego for Scully. "I can finish this up there. I shouldn't be more than a couple of days. Bill is just a hypochondriac and Mom... well is Mom." She shook her head to herself as she grabbed her coat. "Why are you going now?" "I have to find a dog-sitter. Kennels need weeks of notice for them to take the dog, so I'm going to have to do some grovelling with the neighbours," she explained. "I'll do it," Mulder beamed. "What?" she wasn't following. Surely he wasn't offering to look after an animal that needed walking and feeding. He barely looked after himself. "I'll take in Whatsitsname." "Queequeg," she said through a restrained frown. He had been offering to look after him. "I don't know Mulder. You've got lots to get done and..." he cut her off. "Scully. It's a dog. I had a dog when I was a kid. I know how it works. Walk it, feed it and walk it some more. No big deal. And it's the weekend so I won't be at the office." "But Mulder, you sometimes to go gallivanting off and..." "I do not gallivant." Scully gave him a look in answer to her objection of his remark. "Okay so sometimes I go off on a lead, but I won't while I've got Queequeg. And it saves you running round for a dog sitter and you can get some more work done here before you leave." She admitted that he did have a point. So, she did agree. ***************************** Mulder's apartment "So, I'll be going now," Scully informed her partner. He nodded to her and flashed a self-assured smile. Now she knew he didn't have a clue as to what he would be doing, as he was never self assured, which was one of his downfalls, but at the same time strangely endearing. "Bye Scully... oh and I hope you'll find Bill in the best of health." She gave him a slight smirk at his remark and then questioningly gazed at her pet. "You're sure you're sure?" she asked. "Scully, Queequeg seems to be the average dysfunctional dog." "He's not dysfunctional. He won't sniff at your crotch or slobber all over your face like some other dogs." "Well, I'm pleased Queequeg won't, but we can discuss how you're gonna repay me when you get back Scully," he answered with a dangerous grin. Scully let the smirk she was trying to hide surface, even though she, at least, was trying to be serious. Scully looked back at Queequeg, noticing how small and fluffy he was. She then smiled at Mulder to show him that she did have confidence in him to not kill her pet, or himself. She shut the door and Mulder heard her heels clicking against the wooden floor becoming more distant. Mulder slumped onto the leather sofa and stared at Queequeg. The dog seemed so out of place among his apartment and clutter. Everything Mulder owned was minimalistic and cluttered and the dog was fussy and very... well uncluttered. He could tell Scully had groomed him before he had gone over to pick up all the necessary stuff for the dog. Mulder then focused his attention on the mountain of doggy stuff heaped in front of his bedroom door. It was very aethstetically unpleasant. Not that his apartment was a sight to behold on your average dog-free day. Maybe he should shove all of Queequeg's accessories in the bedroom with all the other bits and bobs and boxes in there? he thought, standing to start picking it all up. He glanced suddenly it the dog. He could have sworn it was looking at him with an evil glare. Those big brown eyes were innocent to the layperson, but when a trained professional like himself came along, he knew the signs. Something bad was going to happen. Mulder suddenly realised that he never actually looked after his dog as a kid. His dad and mom had done all the walking and feeding and vet visits. He just played fetch with it. Suddenly the dog's face seem to scrunch up awkwardly and then return to its forlorn look within a split second. That's when Mulder caught the smell. He knew something bad would happen, and his rug had been the dog's first victim. Mulder closed his eyes and counted to ten. Now he knew why he had chosen fish as his pets. ----------X Forty-five minutes later After clearing up the various dog necessities and trying to get the stain out of the rug, he went into the kitchen to grab a snack as he had work to do. But something had beaten him to it. All of his lower cupboard doors were open, indeed revealing that the cupboards *were* bare. In the middle of the white, empty kitchen sat a small bundle of fur, bits of chips sprinkled over the auburn fur and around it on the floor. Looked closer, Mulder saw that the chips trailed towards the only cupboard that did contained any food that Mulder could eat. Suddenly Mulder ran to the cupboard next to the dog, whose door was also gaping ajar, to see it anything had been eaten. The foods contained in that cupboard had probably been edible before the X files were opened the first time and so, if eaten by Queequeg would probably kill him. , Mulder mused, <"Hey Scully, how's Bill? Oh, Queequeg, he's fine now. He suffered a little but now that he's in doggy heaven he's okay"... or..."Queequeg? Oh, he ran away"... or..."Your dog? What dog?"> Well if Queequeg did die by the food, then it would be a sure-fire winner that Mulder would die by the hand of Scully. After making sure that all the seams and edges of the various packets and boxes of food were not broken he was sure that Queequeg would live another seven years. Mulder decided that to be on the safe side he would throw out the mouldy food before Queequeg went on another rampage. Suddenly Queequeg started wailing; a horrid blood-curdling howl. Mulder realised. He ran to the now neatly arranged dog gadgets borrowed from Scully and grabbed the lead. After running around the apartment after the noisy furball, he managed to leash the dog and head out the door. ----------X An hour later Mulder opened the door and allowed Queequeg to lead the way. The small creature trotted in obediently and, when taken off the leash, made himself comfy under Mulder's coffee table. Mulder collapsed on the black couch, almost dazed with exhaustion. He had forgotten how territorial dogs could be. When he and Queequeg had arrived at the local park, a larger dog had run over to Queequeg and that is where the trouble began. It turned out that the Alsatian was a female and very vicious, as was the owner. While the owner, who didn't believe he was a federal agent was screaming at Mulder, Queequeg was being embarrassingly violated as the Alsatian continually sniffed him. "Get you're dog off my Minnie," screamed the small, squat lady. "I don't think it's Queequeg's fault," Mulder said calmly. "What Hell kinda name it that?" "What kind of name it Minnie for a dog the size of an elephant?" Mulder noted dryly. "Excuse me?" The woman's eyes narrowed. "I'm just implying the irony of a large dog like yours being named something that could be used for small stature," he explained while holding tightly to Queequeg's lead. "Are you trying to be clever Mister?" The rest of the conversation went on as such and when the Alsation became bored, it ran off, its owner flying behind it and Mulder fell over. Queequeg had unwittingly entangled his leash around Mulder's legs and the minute he made a getaway, Mulder went crashing on the muddy ground. That was the highlight of the evening walk. Mulder had been peed on by another small dog, which wasn't Queequeg, and later on by Queequeg. Another, ugly little thing with bulging eyes had tried to mate with Mulder's left leg while he sat waiting for Queequeg to 'do his own business' which consisted of himself and a fire hydrant. Now Mulder was sat in his apartment, the little Queequeg sleeping under the table and all Mulder could smell was the dog pee on his trousers and the remnants of Queequeg's earlier house-warming present. Mulder glanced at the clock. It was only five thirty. He had been the guardian of Queequeg for only two hours and already he wanted Scully to come back. Mulder thought that the dog wouldn't be moving any time soon, so he ordered himself to stand up and head to the bathroom for a well deserved shower. ----------X 10:30pm 'Yip'. "Shut up." Queequeg 'yipped' again, like only little dogs do. "Shut up Queequeg. This is Uncle Mulder's dinner," the lanky agent mumbled with a mouthful of noodles and chicken chow mien sauce. 'Yip'. It was almost like the dog was arguing with him. 'YIPYIPYIPYIPYIPYIP'. "Alright," he grumbled, dropping a few noodles on the wooden floor for the dog. Queequeg instantly pounced on the hot egg-flour string, sniffed them, and then ran in the other direction. "Just great." Mulder muttered, picking up the noodles while being careful not to spill the rest of his dinner on his work. Queequeg was now sat, looking up at the phone on the side table next to the couch. He didn't even blink. 'RING RING'. The phone rang and the dog was started off again, running around the apartment like a rat in a maze, darting this way and that. Mulder got a headache trying to follow him with his eyes. "Mulder." "Mulder, its me." It was Scully. "So... how's everything?" she asked carefully. "Fine. Everything's fine," he answered. "So, Queequeg is okay?" "Yup. In exactly the same state you left him in, although I'm wondering if I'm the same as how you left me..." he said, still transfixed on the dog running around in circles. "Well, Mulder you'll cope," she said confidently. "How's Bill?" he asked, politely. "Being an ass... his usual self. I think he just wanted Mom to wait on him hand and foot because he knows Tara won't... Mulder... Mulder?" "Yeah?" Mulder grabbed the phone instantly, while keeping a hold on the dog. He was sprawled on the floor, phone in one hand, dog in the other. "Everything okay?" "Yup. Couldn't be better... Scully? I gotta run, my dinner's burning..." "You're cooking your dinner?" "Yeah," he said lamely, hoping he could end the conversation without pissing his partner off by... well by hanging up like he usually did. "Do you think that's wise?" "Well, I did, but now I know. Scully, I really have to go. See you tomorrow." Then he hung up. And Queequeg wiggled for his grasp and darted for the open door of the cluttered bedroom... and disappeared. "Oh shit." ----------X "Come on Queequeg, here boy." Mulder made a whistle sound that had attracted his own dog when he was a naive little boy and held out his hand through a gap between the boxes, which contained a doggy treat. But Queequeg was having none of it. He was sat quietly at the far side a small cavern of cardboard boxes. Mulder would have left him there, but seeing as though Queequeg was small and very fragile, and the boxes above could cave in at any moment, he decided to tease Queequeg out by lying at the foot of the bedroom-cum-storage room door with Doggy-Bites. He had been lying there an hour and a half, and desperately needed to pee. he thought while whistling again. "Look... dog cookies... MMMMmmmm." Mulder had now resorted to making 'yummy noises' about the food. It was a pitiful site to see. If he was there any longer, he was going to have to resort to eating the biscuits himself as he couldn't leave Queequeg in there. ----------X Sunday 10:30am There was an urgent knock as the door and Mulder was roused from a very uncomfortable seeping position on then floor. His arm was outstretched into the mass of boxes and his neck was stiff from being set at a strange angle. The knocking came again as Mulder realised where he was, and why he was there. He turned quickly to see inside the bedroom. Queequeg was gone. "Mulder?" . It was Scully, the dog owner, and a gun owner. "Queequeg? Here boy," Mulder whispered almost inaudibly. He knew dogs could hear much better than humans, but could Queequeg hear over the noise Scully was making? "Mulder, you awake?" He didn't answer. Then he heard the key slotting into the lock. "Queequeg!" he whispered, running close to the ground and around in erratic circles like Queequeg did before him. There was neither head nor hair of the dog. "Mulder?" Scully's concern was growing by the second. She had just witnessed her partner running around the apartment... "Like you were chasing you tail," she finished explaining to him. "Are you okay?" "Me? I'm fine. Couldn't be better. You're early." "I know. Mom decided to stay in San Diego for longer so I drove back last night. I left a message on your answer phone. Where's Queequeg?" Mulder was stood still in the middle of his apartment's 'living room'. His hair was a mess and you could tell he had slept in his clothes. And Scully noticed his eyes were darting about in an uneasy manner. "Mulder? What...?" she asked, walking slowly towards him. "Where's my dog?" she asked politely, yet with a tone so stern it could glass. "Erm... Queequeg!" he called, louder than before, in a weak, almost girlish tone. 'Yip' Queequeg answered. Mulder thought he actually felt his heart start itself again. The little dog trotted in from the kitchen towards Scully, who picked him off the ground. "Not a scratch on him. Mulder, I'm impressed," Scully noted, checking over her pet with a careful eye. Mulder could only manage a happy noise and a stupid grin. He felt like he was going to faint. "Well at least now I know that if I'm called out of town unexpectedly, you can look after him. Thanks Mulder." She smiled at him and then told him she'd be round to pick up Queequeg's stuff later. Mulder didn't move from where he stood until the door closed behind Scully. Then he let out the breath he'd been holding since Scully walked in. After realising he had actually managed to keep the dog alive he wandered into the kitchen, where Queequeg had left a going away gift this time. Mulder closed his eyes, counted to ten and hoped that Bill would lead a normal healthy life... at least for the rest of Queequeg's life. --------------------------------------------------------------------X ----------X THE END