Title: Nice Shoes
Author: Gibson
Rating: R for strong language
Category: MSR/ Humor
Date: Started 6/23/2003 finished 7/1/2003
Distribution: Ephemeral, Gossamer...any others, please 
ask first, I'll most likely be flattered and send it to you 
without hesitation :D.
Disclaimer: They ARE mine. Chris Carter took a small 
sketch I wrote in grade school and stole it create The 
X Files. Granted, he did add some of his own improvements 
and ideas, but the basic idea was mine. I'm going to sue 
him for every penny he's made on my characters. ;)
Author's Notes: If you believe my disclaimer, please email 
me before you call Good Morning America ;). (psst. Little 
secret, they really aren't mine ;)).  
Dedication: This is for Sallie: our rock, our den mother, 
and our direct line to the Almighty. Thank you for being 
the most supportive, generous and genuine person I know. 
Hugs. 
Stay tuned for more notes at the end ;).
Click-clack, click-clack. 
The dark-haired man looked up from the papers that he'd 
been reading. Someone was coming. The nameplate resting 
precariously on the end of the paper-covered desk read 
Fox Mulder, Special Agent. 
%^%^%^%^
The woman walking down the empty, poorly lit hall, her 
three-inch heels making a distinctive click-clack sound, 
was petite. Even if her frame was small, there was power 
and assurance in the way that she carried herself. Her 
was hair was coppery and collected what little light was 
present in the hallway. In each hand, she held a steaming 
cup.
Turning quickly, she walked through a door marked:
    Fox Mulder
    Special Agent
        
Without pausing, she turned to face the man at the desk. 
"Morning Mulder"
The man at the desk smiled and replied, "Morning, Scully".
%^%^%^%^
What in the hell did Scully have on her feet? He'd heard 
her as soon as she got off the elevator.  Scully never 
made that much noise.  Mulder looked down and couldn't 
help but notice Scully's apparently new shoes as he accepted 
the coffee cup she held out to him. 
Mulder couldn't believe that the three-inch, black  
strappy shoes before him were on the feet of his partner. 
These were what were classically referred to as "fuck me" 
shoes and he'd never considered that his partner might even 
own a pair. 
With a grin he said, "Nice shoes, Scully. New?" and moved 
onto the next order of business. "We've got a ten o'clock 
meeting with Skinner to go over these reports" he gestured 
vaguely towards his desk.
%^%^%^%^
Scully sat and watched as Mulder took in her new shoes. She'd 
seen them on sale Sunday afternoon. She'd been looking for a 
new pair of heels--a regular event. Working with Mulder was 
hard on her shoes. She'd had more pairs ruined in the past 6 
years than in the remainder of her life combined. Her shoes 
had been submerged, shredded, broken, stained and generally 
damaged. It wouldn't have been so bad if her partner wasn't 
so damn tall. She not only had to find professional, comfortable 
footwear in her size (hard enough when you were a size six: 
retailers seem to believe all people that size six are 16 and 
consequently, only wear the hippest new sandals), but she also 
had to buy three-inch heels in order not to look like a child 
next to Mulder. 
Over the years, she'd begun to get a sense of which stores 
would have the kind of shoes she needed. Nice, durable,
solid heeled shoes. Spike heels would be impossible as 
well as impractical. Beyond the fact that she always felt 
as though she teetered when she walked, she needed shoes 
that had a good solid heel that would stay attached when 
she went running after mutant, monster or Mulder. Plus, 
she couldn't afford a damaged ankle. 
Her very specific shoe needs dictated that she go shoe 
shopping at least once a month. She went through, on 
average, a pair a month, shopping regularly was the only 
way to insure a regular supply of footwear. She'd even 
been known to buy two or three pairs of the same shoes 
at a time in order to insure she had them.  
Sunday, she'd been in the mall and happened to glance 
over a  prom display. Normally she'd have moved on, but 
the shoes at the center of the display had caught her 
attention. Prom time was always a good time to find 
dressier, sexier shoes because retailers knew that 
even the small-footed girl needed a nice pair of 
dancing shoes. 
She'd gone in and picked up the shoes. They were 
strappy: composed almost entirely of medium sized straps 
that criss-crossed up the top of the foot. They were the 
required height and the required thickness of heel, and 
more importantly they were the right size. Glancing only 
briefly at the twenty-two dollar price tag, Scully took 
the shoes to the register. 
It was only after she got home and examined her purchases, 
two pairs each of black and blue heels plus the strappy 
heels, that she began to wonder why she'd bought the sexy 
shoes. At the time some fleeting image of dancing with a 
tall-handsome man had persuaded her to plunk down her Visa 
platinum, but it seemed that she'd been foolish. Why had 
she bought going-out shoes when she never went out? Well, 
except for Mulder, but they never really went out. Once 
in a while they'd grab Chinese or Italian after work if 
it was late, but they certainly never just for the kind of 
entertainment that these shoes begged for.
She'd packed the shoes carefully back in the box and 
placed the receipt in the bag. Placing the bag on the table, 
she'd prepared herself to return the shoes. She had no reason 
to wear them,  she may as well return them so some young girl 
could wear them to her prom.
Except she hadn't returned the shoes. Every morning as she 
left for work and every evening when she returned, the 
shoes sat on her table. Until this morning as she'd been 
getting dressed. She'd reached out, pulled out the box and 
opened it. The shoes were as beautiful and sexy as she'd 
remembered. With a sigh she'd put them on with her shorter 
black skirt and lower white blouse and nicer black jacket. 
And then she'd decided, what the hell. They were working in 
the office all day, finishing up expense reports, reimbursement 
filing for Mulder's last medical mishap, and meeting with 
Skinner. She wouldn't have to chase after anything or anyone 
except the elusive medical claims representative who, rumors 
said, got caller id expressly for the purpose of screening 
calls from the X-Files Division. He'd been known to mutter 
that they might have the highest solve rate, but they also 
had the highest number of medical claims too.  
So, with a smile she'd grabbed her coat and keys and left for 
work. 
"Scully, are you in there?"
A flesh colored blob flashed before her eyes. 
Blinking she looked up, into Mulder's face. 
"Oh, sorry, just thinking about something."
"Care to share with the rest of the class?" his lips twisted 
into his signature "I can keep a secret" grin and his eyebrow 
attempted to quirk. 
"Just thinking about how we're going to start stalking Jim 
Richards in Medical Claims if he doesn't return your calls
today. "
"You realize that stalking is against the law in all 50 states, 
right?"
"Mulder, do you really want to be billed for $13,456.78
for your last hospital visit."
With that the grin left his face, "Er...no."
"Well then." This time it was her turn to grin and quirk an 
eyebrow. 
%^%^%^%^
Mulder looked down into Scully's grinning face. He knew she 
hadn't zoned out on him to think about that prick in Medical 
Claims whose grand plan was to avoid Mulder until the 
reimbursement date expired on his claim and therefore 
save the Bureau  $13,456.78.  However, he wasn't going to 
push because she might realize that he hadn't been entirely 
focused on today's agenda either. 
It was those shoes. Those un-Scully shoes on Scully's feet. 
He'd been telling her about today's meeting with Skinner, 
but he'd still be thinking about those shoes. Then he 
remembered a lunch he'd had with Agent Furlow a month or so 
ago. They'd been sitting there shooting the breeze. Scully was 
at Quantico teaching a seminar class for the afternoon and 
Mulder had decided to have lunch in the cafeteria. Dan had 
called him over and they'd had lunch together. Somewhere 
between the meatloaf and the gravy with potatoes, Dan had 
told Mulder about a game him and his buddies had played over 
beer and a playoff game. 
"Well, it's like this, women--they're all the time complaining 
about our lame pick-up lines. 'Course, that doesn't stop 'em 
from hookin' up with us. Anyway, my buddies and I were sitting 
thinking of the worst lines we'd ever used that'd actually 
worked."
Turns out that the winner had been a buddy of his, Brian, 
who'd said his worst working line was "Nice shoes. Wanna fuck?"
Mulder had been staring at Scully's feet in those strappy 
contraptions wondering if she'd ever heard that line, and more 
importantly, if it would work. 
It was that last thought that had snapped him out of his 
reverie only to notice that Scully wasn't paying any attention 
either.  He wasn't a shoe-man; he didn't have a foot fetish, 
so why in the world was he obsessing over these shoes?
After calling her name twice, he gave up and went over to her, 
passing his hand in front of her face and finally pulling her 
out of her daze. 
%^%^%^%^
A tall man, his hair tousled and his jacket only just shrugged 
on, Special Agent Fox Mulder enters the hallway and stands 
aside for his red-haired partner to precede him into the hall. 
Turning, he shuts and locks the door, remarkable only because 
he checks the lock twice. Striding next to his partner, he places 
his hand familiarly in the small of her back, an action so smooth 
and graceful that it must be routine. Their paces are perfectly 
matched, noteworthy because of the still formidable height 
difference despite the heels on Special Agent Dana Scully. 
These two have been together a long time, their comfort with 
each other, the ease of modification for the height or 
exuberance of another, the way that they project an air of 
"two against the world," these two are truly connected.
%^%^%^%^
"Have a seat Agents," said Skinner as they enter his office. 
"Do you have the report from the last case?"
"Yes Sir," said Scully, crossing her ankles and inadvertently 
drawing Mulder's attention. 
Skinner flipped through the pages in the manila folder, 
noting the pertinent facts: suspect was the owner of a tap 
dancing boxer, victim was the owner of a pedigree, pom-pom 
toting poodle, Mulder was hospitalized from injuries sustained 
due to interference by said boxer when attempting to apprehend 
suspect. Mulder was subsequently thrown headfirst down three 
flights of stairs. Injuries sustained were: multiple lacerations 
incurred by the fall, one sprained ankle administered by Bronxie 
the boxer's leash, his 32nd concussion sustained when his 
admittedly hard head hit the second floor landing, one fairly 
serious dog bite bestowed by Bronxie as Mulder attempted to 
regain his feet and one pair of forty dollar high-heeled shoes 
owned by Special Agent D. Scully, ruined by Bronxie when she 
attempted to assist one Special Agent F. Mulder. 
%^%^%^%^
Skinner was still digesting the casualty list when Mulder saw 
them. Admittedly, he had seen them before at a post-case pizza 
and movie, at a 1 A.M. pajama-clad conference in a hotel room, 
but never before at work. And never like this. 
Scully's toes were visible through her sheer-toed hose, peeking 
out at him through the straps of those incredibly inappropriate 
shoes. She should know better than to wear shoes like that at 
work, why, you never know what someone might say. Perhaps he 
should warn her, he knew how much she valued her reputation. 
Wait a minute, these were just shoes. Granted, they were sexy 
shoes, but they were only shoes. He was losing his mind, but 
it wasn't his fault, it was the polish. 
Scully had painted her toenails a slightly darker coral. Normally, 
he wouldn't even have noticed, especially with hose on, but those 
shoes were drawing attention to her feet and it was those toes 
that had caught his attention. They were small, cute, and 
perfectly proportioned, all in all, Scully had very nice feet, 
which he'd known, somewhere, in the back of his mind, but this 
was the first time he'd even considered the existence of her 
feet at work. 
Pulling his attention back to the room, he heard Skinner 
addressing Scully.
%^%^%^%^
"It says here that the Bureau is to reimburse you for a pair 
of shoes. What exactly happened to them Agent Scully?"
"Sir, as I checked Agent Mulder's vitals and removed the dog 
from his thigh, it turned on me and urinated on my right foot. 
After I discerned the extent of both his probable and visible 
injuries, I attempted to assist him into a sitting position as 
the stairs were still in use. At that time, the dog, Bronxie, 
attacked my left foot, damaging the shoe and in fact he was 
able to remove it from my foot whereupon he immediately began 
to destroy it."
"I see," said a rather bemused Skinner. "Agent Mulder, this 
report seems fairly straightforward, is there anything you 
feel needs clarification?"
Snapping his head up, Mulder paused to consider the question.
"No Sir, I think that the report is fairly clear."
"Well then Agents, may I suggest that you both enjoy your 
weekends and try to stay in the Hoover Building for the next 
couple of weeks. The case handler assigned to the X Files 
Division over in Medical Claims is threatening to quit if he 
gets one more claim this month." With a grin, Skinner closed 
the file and ushered the Agents out of his office. 
Sitting back down at his desk, he wondered if Scully had any 
idea what her shoes were doing to Agent Mulder. 
%^%^%^%^
"Scully," Mulder said as they entered the empty elevator, "I've 
got to run a couple of errands during lunch. I'll catch you later"
Then, as the elevator door pinged and began to open, he remembered 
Dan's buddy. As he walked off the elevator he added, "oh, and 
Scully, I just wanted to say again, those are 'nice shoes'." 
With a grin and a wink he walked away, cherishing the sight 
of Scully's bemused face as the elevator doors closed. 
%^%^%^%^
Nice shoes.
What was that supposed to mean? Obviously Mulder thought it 
should have some significance or he wouldn't have winked when 
he said. What could he have possibly meant? Did he think her 
shoes were inappropriate? Was he actually trying to compliment 
her? Was there some joke she just didn't get?
Scully puzzled as she ate her cheeseburger. She'd decided 
that today was going to be a day of treats: a nice juicy 
cheeseburger, thick greasy French fries and sexy shoes. 
Convinced that if Mulder had really meant something by the 
comment he would have clarified, Scully enjoyed her sandwich 
and walked back to their office. 
%^%^%^%^
~Two Weeks Later~
~ Bill's Best Barbecue~
~Samtil, Virgina~
The man matches his considerably longer stride to that of the 
woman and still manages to gracefully reach and open the door 
before her. He is the same man who was bent so industriously 
over papers a mere two weeks ago. She is the woman with the 
burnished hair who so strode so confidently through the halls 
and brought him coffee.
Today however, they both look the worse for wear. The man
is considerably more disheveled than we last saw him. His jacket 
and tie are both gone and it appears as though his pants are 
going to need to be replaced. Today he towers over his partner, 
almost a foot taller than her in her white Nike sneakers. Her 
hair is mussed, her blouse has unidentifiable stains and she's 
lost her preferred footwear somewhere, resorting to tennis shoes 
that reveal their true disparity in size. 
They've come here for barbecue and it looks as though they've 
already had a daunting day.
%^%^%^%^
Carefully Scully eased herself down onto the toilet seat, 
contemplating her white Nike's. Or perhaps that should be 
formerly white Nike's. When the heel had broken off her black 
heels, she'd known she was out of luck. The blue pumps were 
still encrusted with mud from the day before and looked as 
though they might be going to the garbage. There wasn't 
anywhere in this tiny town that carried dressy shoes in
her size, which only left her workout Nike's. Three years old 
and comfortable, they certainly weren't going to set a new 
trend in business casual. Nor would her muddy, bloody dress 
shirt, she thought looking down. 
%^%^
"Janet, how'd last night go?"
"Well, we went into Gomery to go to a club, Katie and me, when 
we got there, this cute city-boy came up to me and you'll never 
guess what he said!"
"What? Tell Me!'
"Well, he looked down at my favorite black sandals and said  
'nice shoes, wanna..."
"He didn't! I hope you told him were he could take his offer."
"Well, I told him where I came from nice boys didn't talk to 
girls like that, and he told me he weren't no nice boy."
"Oh my!"
%^%^
Scully looked up from her shoes, catching the conversation of 
the two teenagers who'd just entered the bathroom. Something 
the girl had just said jogged her memory. Something that Mulder 
had said...something a couple of weeks ago...when she was wearing 
those new shoes...what was it?
Suddenly, Mulder's grin popped into her face and she saw him 
wink and say 'oh, and Scully, I just wanted to say again, those 
are nice shoes.'
The memory came flooding back and blood rushed into her face. 
Nice shoes, eh?
With a grin of her own she eased out of the stall and over to 
the sink. Damn mud monster.
%^%^%^%^
Mulder looked up as Scully came toward the table. He ached, his 
whole body hurt, but at least he didn't look as bedraggled as 
Scully. 
The local legend about Mud Monsters had been true. 'Course when 
you're living in an area with potholes the size of some states, 
there's no wonder something decides to make one of them home. 
The creature, whatever it was, was dead now, though it nearly 
took them with it. The lab would be running tests right now and 
he and Scully would have to file a report on Monday, but for 
now they could enjoy some of Bill's fine cooking , buy some 
aspirin and get to bed early.
Scully sat down and she had the most peculiar look on her face, 
as though she'd just found out a secret and didn't want to share. 
"What's up Scully?"
"Oh, nothing. Just something I heard in the ladies room, girl 
talk. You wouldn't be interested."
He was as game as the next guy to pull the information out of 
her, but something about the combination of 'ladies room' and 
'girl talk' convinced him that he probably didn't want to know.
"Oh, okay, well, I went ahead and ordered. They've really only 
got one thing on the menu."
%^%^%^%^
As she listened to Mulder, Scully wondered what she should do 
with her new found information. How could she put it to maximum 
use?
She pondered this as she ate her way through a mammoth sized 
barbecue sandwich and an equally large serving of chips and 
two Diet Pepsi's.
She made the appropriate replies to Mulder's comments 
conversation was minimal. They were both too busy trying 
to eat. She considered her various options. 
As Mulder paid the check, it occurred to her what she could 
do.
%^%^%^%^
Mulder was reconsidering his decision not to question Scully 
on the bathroom incident. She'd been pretty quiet all through 
dinner and he could see that she was working out something in 
her mind. She seemed engrossed in whatever it was. Since their 
case was finished, it must have something to do with whatever 
she heard in the bathroom. 
He pulled up to the motel and parked. He turned to ask Scully 
if he could do something to help, when she got out of the car.
%^%^%^%^
Mulder was beginning to suspect something. She could tell by 
the glances he kept throwing at her as he drove the six blocks 
from 'the best restaurant in town' to 'the best motel in town'.
She got out of the car as soon as he parked and began to walk 
towards their rooms. 
"I don't know about you Mulder, but I'm tired. I think I'm 
going to take some Tylenol and head to bed. You should 
probably do the same; I can tell you're beginning to feel stiff."
%^%^%^%^
Mulder looked at her and decided to let it go. Obviously 
she didn't want to talk about it.
"Okay, he said. 'Night Scully see you in the morning," and 
he put the key in the door to his room.
As he opened the door he heard Scully say, "Oh, and Mulder, 
I just wanted to say, nice Shoes."
With a grin she went into her room and locked the door. 
Leaving him to wonder if she knew what effect her words had 
just had on him.
THE END
The author babbles on: 
First, as many of you know, it's practically impossible to 
share a piece of writing with the fandom if you don't have 
a kick-ass beta. For this story I had THREE. Don't ask me 
what I did to deserve that good fortune, but I'd like to 
thank Ilke, Carrie and Lorraine for some seriously wonderful 
suggestions. Your suggestions greatly improved this little 
fic o' mine. 
Seafarers: There was a discussion about introducing M+S as 
characters. I tried to do a little of that in this piece. 
Thanks for always stimulating me.  
The XF Lost and Found Board has my eternal gratitude for 
answering a continuity question. . .twice! Thanks.
I chose 6 for Scully based on my own weight and foot 
measurements. She could probably be anything from a 6-7 
depending on the shoes, but I needed the smaller size for 
my own entertainment ;).