TITLE: A Couple of Head Cases AUTHOR: Anne Hedonia CLASSIFICATION: V, H KEYWORDS: DSR, Short, Smutty PWP Humor. RATING: R-ish? R+? For sexual situations. SPOILERS: None REASON FOR BEING: Poor ol' DB got sick! FAIR WARNING: In this story, Doggett and Scully are not only involved, they're happy and non-guilty about it. If you don' t like that, don't read. And don't bother telling me you don 't like it, if you don't. Please bother telling me you do like it, if you do, at ahedonia@yahoo.com AUTHOR'S NOTE: Though the challenge on SHODDS was to write a Doggett/Scully SickFic, (either Doggett or Scully sick, the non-sick party dutifully nursing...) the following story is glaringly bereft of any kind of illness or nursing whatsoever. I did feel, however, that it would be likely to cheer DB up. ;-) And I felt that since I would be gently mocking our two agents, my legendary penchant for writing sex stuff should be employed and mocked a little as well. Although I would never wish for DB to be sick, I'm glad that her sickness prompted Medie to suggest this, because it was really fun to write. More of my stuff can be found at http://people.we.mediaone.net/madmwazel No beta, no nuttin'. All me. ----------------------- It often happened in the mornings. Mornings were times of lolling in a warm bed, bathing, running around looking for clothing items while otherwise half-dressed. It made sense that it should happen a lot during mornings. The fact of its frequency, though, did nothing to lessen its delicious impact. It was one such morning that he came up behind her while she was searching through a bathroom drawer, glided his hands up her ribcage and settled them on the lace cups of her bra, squeezing. She felt his warmth behind her as he buried his nose in her neck, humming softly, sending thrills and goosebumps down her arms and legs. They didn't have time for this - they were showing up late so often that Skinner was already looking at them funny - but as soon as his lips brushed under her ear and his burgeoning erection brushed her behind, all arguments flew out the window. At that point it was all over but the shouting. And there *would* be shouting. Which was why she was letting him do this, she thought with a grin. She turned in his arms and met his waiting kisses. Groping ensued, and they hastily made their way to the floor, a roiling mass of tangled arms and legs. Even though this sort of occurrence was - as previously stated - pretty frequent, the atmosphere between them was hot and heavy, serious with the weight of their spontaneity. That is, until they got settled... ...and Dana's head came to rest... ...on her bathroom scale. While John was still nipping at her neck, devouring his way down the rest of her, she could hear the metal and plastic creaking beneath her ears. John seemed to be paying no attention. She found this funny. And the longer he didn't notice, the funnier it got. She had to be careful, when he entered her, not to burst out laughing at the serious, heavily absorbed look on his face. Hey, funny was funny, but some things just weren't done. She tried very hard to concentrate on the feeling of him moving inside her - which was exquisite, as usual - but it was no use. Eventually even John's hormone-addled brain came up to speed. "Okay," he gasped, slowing. "I'm doin' everything I can to drive you crazy, and you're gigglin'. What gives?" "John?" she asked, her hilarity beginning to leak through. "Yes, sweetness?" "Do me a favor?" "Anything." "Tell me what my head weighs?" "What?" His confusion was the funniest thing of all. A most unladylike snort escaped her, followed by peals of laughter. "I know you can see it from there!" He shook his head, still not clear on what was happening. "Why on earth you worryin' about that?" She was helpless with laughter now. "Just tell me!" With an amused huff of his own, he leaned forward to see the scale better. The move pushed him farther into her. Her laughter now centered around a happy, contented "Mmmmm..." "Ten pounds." "TEN pounds?" "Don't yell at *me*, I'm just the messenger." "How could my head weigh ten whole pounds?!" "Beats me, you're the doctor!" John was finally starting to grin. "We gonna finish this thing?" "I don't know..." she pretended the news was overwhelming. "This just changes so much..." "Okay, I give up." John was seriously smirking now. Without separating them, he did a quick roll to put himself underneath her. Scully shrieked with laughter as he idiotically scooched the foot or so sideways that it took to put his head where hers had been. "Now we do mine." Scully was incapacitated, shaking with that silent laughter that completely disables one as a human. "Come on!" urged Doggett, laughter starting to shake him as well. "Fair's fair!" Dana got it together enough to peer forward. "Uh...eight pounds," she sputtered. "EIGHT pounds??" She threw her hands up in mock surrender. "Just the messenger!" "How come yours is ten and mine's just eight?" "*I* don't know," exclaimed Scully in exasperation. "I got a lot on my mind!" They both lost it. They heaved with laughter until they thought they'd never be able to speak again, John with one palm draped loosely over his eyes and Dana leaning sideways against the cabinets. They laughed until their laughter became weary, happy moans, and Dana noticed that the rattling of their bodies was pleasantly stirring something within her. They giggled exhaustedly while John opened his startling, pale eyes and looked up at her, lost in the admiration of one who was formerly reluctant to be taken on a journey, but is now glad he went. Scully sighed weakly, leaned to drape herself over him and smiled at the contented gasp he made when her nipples brushed his chest. She began to move again, just a little, and admired his muscles flexing as he reached up to move the scale out from under his head. He lay back, and she kissed him sweetly, and was happy. And that, quite frankly, is why they were late for work. ***************** End!