Title: Rumble in the Jungle

Author: mimic117

Email: mimic1172@gmail.com

Rating: *Maybe* R, which is not what you wanted to hear.

Category: V, fluff and gratuitous male nudity

Setting: Season 6 or 7-ish but with established MSR

Summary: It's a jungle out there.

Archive: Anywhere you want is fine. I'll do Gossamer and 
Ephemeral myself, thanks.

Disclaimer: CC wouldn't touch this one with a ten foot vine.

Author's Notes: For banlu, Masto - *I'm* the one with a Tarzan 
fetish! - Fogey #25. I just couldn't resist. Happy Birthday!

Thanks: To my Twinsy for the inspirational fic, the waterfall 
smut and the bitchin' beta. Me Tarzan, You Jane by aka "Jake" 
can be found at her site along with the amazingly hot cover for 
it, created by tarras: http://akajake.net/tarzan.htm

To tarras for making me a hot-flash-inducing cover, too.

And especially to DD for shakin' his groove thang in the 
Season 3 bloopers while wearing a loincloth.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rumble in the Jungle
by mimic117


Wednesday
9:17 PM

"God dammit, I hate this."

Mulder's complaint pulled Scully's attention away from Agent 
Van Owen three tables over. She kept her expression neutral 
as she took in her partner's tense posture, thinned lips and 
glowering eyebrows. He definitely wasn't a happy camper, but 
his bad mood, in fact this whole situation, was his own fault.

"Well," she replied, "maybe next time you'll think twice before 
running off on a wild goose chase without Skinner's 
permission."

"But why *this*? Make me clean the executive bathroom with a 
toothbrush or lick the carpet clean in his office. I'd prefer it."

"Why should he give you an assignment you'd prefer? You're 
being punished. And me along with you, I might add."

"I feel naked. I can't even carry my gun in this stupid -- " He 
waved a dismissive hand.

Scully felt her neutral expression slip as she allowed herself to 
appreciate his "uniform." 

"Maybe Skinner thinks you look hot in a loincloth."

"Thanks. That'll be a nice thought to take to the debriefing 
later."

He turned and walked away, allowing Scully to enjoy his 
receding rear view as she sipped her non-alcoholic Jungle 
Cocktail. She would have preferred something a bit more 
grown-up, but she was on duty. Skinner had assigned both of 
them to the undercover operation at Tarzan's Treetop 
Hideaway, staking out a suspect who was preying on the 
restaurant's customers. In spite of every precaution they could 
come up with, five patrons had been assaulted inside the 
restaurant itself. He simply appeared out of nowhere, attacked, 
and disappeared again. They knew what he looked like but 
didn't have a name. His past assaults suggested that he'd 
strike sometime this week. It was just a question of maintaining 
a law enforcement presence until he showed up again. 

Their "law enforcement presence" was a joke. This was a shit 
detail and Skinner knew it. Yes, a man *was* accosting female 
customers in the bathroom of this restaurant. Yes, there was a 
chance that he would escalate to more serious behavior in the 
future. Yes, someone needed to look into it. 

But why them? 

Scully had questioned Skinner as to why the local PD couldn't 
handle it and was roundly swatted down. They were in trouble, 
he said. They were lucky he didn't can their asses, he said. 
They could be serving a suspension without pay, he said. 
Instead, they were being sent to catch a serial tickler and 
they'd better take the assignment seriously. 

"A serial *killer*?" she'd asked her red-faced superior.

"No," he'd replied, "a serial *tickler*."

Apparently, the restaurant had recently been "terrorized" 
(Skinner's words, not hers), by a man who suddenly showed up 
in the women's restroom, tickled the unfortunate victim until she 
could hardly catch her breath, and then vanished. According to 
the women, the assailant seemed to have some kind of 
orgasmic experience during the assault. It *was* a legitimate 
assault complaint. Legitimate enough to assign personnel to 
deal with it. 

Hence, the presence of three mostly-naked FBI agents who 
were currently in the dog house with their superior, and one 
designated guilty-by-association partner.

Scully took a swig of her drink and wished once again that it 
contained alcohol. She scanned the restaurant's patrons -- a 
task made difficult due to the large number of fake palm trees 
and dangling vines. The place was packed with women, so the 
occasional man really stood out. Not counting the barefoot, 
loincloth-clad male waiters, of course. The restaurant's theme 
was a reverse of Hooters, and if Scully was going to be honest, 
she'd have to admit that she was enjoying herself immensely. 
For once, she was the one who got to sit at a table with a 
hidden earpiece connected to the rest of the team while the 
men paraded around in skimpy outfits, oblivious to what might 
be going down. 

Not a bad way to spend an evening. 

Except that the backup team of agents watching the outside 
entrance weren't taking the assignment seriously. She could 
hear them playing "I spy" over the intercom link.

Scully followed Agent Lucas with her eyes as he walked past 
her table, appreciating the sharply defined abs that rippled 
whenever he bent toward a customer. He stopped near the 
kitchen to confer with Agent Van Owen, whose pecs were even 
unrivaled by the regular waiters. Mulder joined them for a 
moment, all three men casually glancing around as they talked. 

Their skin gleamed in the lights. 

Scully imagined herself smearing Mulder with a coating of the 
shiny oil that was required for all wait staff. She'd run her 
slippery hands over every inch of his lean, firm body, caressing 
hidden treasures and delving into shadowy creases that 
wouldn't show outside his waiter's uniform. 

The resulting mental image made her squirm with longing.

Scully had to admit that her partner didn't possess the biggest 
muscles on display, but she liked his body best anyway. The 
miniscule loincloth riding low on his hips showcased the sides 
of his ass between the flaps of leather. It made his thigh 
muscles seem longer and thicker. His swimmer's deltoids and 
biceps were thrown into sharp relief by the oil's shimmer. Her 
gaze caressed his shoulders, then traced the familiar valley of 
his spine straight down to the dimples at the base of his back. 
She licked her lips, desperately wanting to follow that same 
path with her tongue. When he turned, her eyes locked onto 
the hair that trailed down from his navel and disappeared into 
the scanty clothing. 

Her mouth went dry. 

How was she supposed to concentrate on their job with Mulder 
looking so sexy? She checked her watch. Less than two hours 
until they could go home. Scully took a large gulp of her cold, 
fruity drink. 

Why couldn't they get assignments like this more often?

"Oh Derek!" A woman two tables away wiggled her fingers and 
"Yoo hoo!"-ed.  

Apparently Scully wasn't the only one who preferred Mulder's 
body. Customers at Tarzan's were allowed to ask for 
whichever waiter they wanted and her partner, taking the place 
of "Derek," had been in great demand all night.

Mulder winced before he plastered a smile on his face and 
answered the summons. Scully waited until he was done with 
the customer, then caught his eye. He practically ran back to 
her table.

"Our perp had better show up soon," he said. "I can't take 
much more of this."

"You're doing fine," Scully cooed. "Besides, think of all the 
tips you'll have at the end of the night."

"No amount of money is gonna make up for -- "

"Oh Derek! Yoooo hoooo!"

Mulder turned his back on the woman and gritted his teeth. 
Scully glanced from his clenched jaw to the enthusiastically 
gesturing woman.

"Shouldn't you see what she wants, 'Derek'?"

"I *know* what she wants. She's called me over for some kind 
of petty shit at least fifteen times and she's groped my ass 
*every* *single* *time*. I will not be held responsible for my 
actions if she touches me again."

"You're not naked under there, are you?" Scully tried to get a 
peek beneath the loincloth without being obvious about it.

"No. I'm wearing a thong. But that's not the point!"

"I know, Mulder." Scully brushed her fingers over the back of 
his hand, being careful to make it look casual. She understood 
her partner's frustration, but it wouldn't help his standing with 
Skinner if they blew their cover because of an octopus-handed 
customer.

"Look at it this way," she continued. "At least she can't palm 
your package, too."

He growled when the woman "Yoo hoo"-ed again. "She's 
already tried. Twice. Next time, I'll stick a fork in her hand."

Scully caught Agent Lucas' gaze and called him over with a tilt 
of her head. He stopped next to her chair, then leaned down 
when she beckoned him closer. 

"I think Agent Mulder needs a little break. Could you fill in for 
him, Agent Lucas? Just for a moment?"

Lucas looked over at the insistent woman who continued to call 
for "Derek" and wave her hand. He smirked at Mulder.

"You got Groping Gertie, huh?"

Mulder grimaced.

"Okay," Agent Lucas agreed. "You've got ten minutes. I had 
her two nights ago, so I understand how you feel. But you owe 
me a break from Pinching Patty. I don't think the bruises on my 
ass are ever going to go away."

"Deal!" Mulder yelped, and hurried away. 

"Derek!" squawked Groping Gertie. Lucas rolled his eyes before he 
went to the woman's table, but he stopped just out of reach.

Scully could hear bits of their conversation as the agent 
soothed his agitated customer. He and his partner, Van Owen, 
had also pissed off Skinner somehow. They'd been on the 
case several days longer than she and Mulder, and seemed to 
be taking the over-zealous clientele in stride.

Unlike Mulder.

Scully took another sip of her Jungle Cocktail and glanced 
around again. It was getting late and the restaurant had started 
to thin out. Mulder's most persistent admirer was still arguing 
with Agent Lucas about "Derek's" defection. The woman really 
had no clue how close she'd come to getting skewered with a 
fork. Or worse.

A commotion in the hallway leading to the restrooms caught 
Scully's attention. She reached into her purse and closed her 
hand around her weapon just as a man came running out of the 
hallway. Mulder was tearing along right behind him. They 
dodged between the tables and palm trees, swatting at the 
dangling vines, turning and weaving as they tried to avoid a 
collision. The running man picked up a chair and tossed it in 
Mulder's path. Mulder vaulted over it without slowing and hit 
the ground again at full speed. They'd already passed Scully's 
table by the time she was able to stand and draw her gun.

"FBI! Freeze!" she shouted. 

Customers screamed. She heard chairs scrap, dishes rattle. A 
couple of bodies hit the deck, but she locked her focus on her 
partner's back. 

The two running men were almost to the doorway when Mulder 
made a flying tackle. They skidded across the slick floor with 
Mulder wrapped around the fleeing man's legs. He hung on as 
his captive tried to kick and twist away. 

Mulder's loincloth had flipped wrong side out and wasn't doing 
a thing to hide his assets. Under other, more private, 
circumstances, Scully would have been disappointed that he 
was wearing a thong. Even while she was trying to keep her 
weapon trained on their suspect, she took a moment to 
appreciate the view. 

Mulder's ass and thigh muscles flexed and strained as his bare 
feet sought to gain purchase on the tile floor. She 
could see the tension in his arms and back as he struggled to 
gain control of his captive. She didn't dare turn around and 
look, but from the comments Scully could hear behind her, 
some of the customers were enjoying the show, too.

"Isn't that Derek?" a woman asked. 

"What's he doing?" another one replied. 

"I think he's trying to arrest that other guy."

"God, Derek is so hot! I wonder if he'd give me his phone 
number."

"Forget it, girlfriend. I already tried."

A male voice chimed in, "Maybe he'll give it to *me*."

Scully started to turn around.

"Handcuffs!" Mulder shouted. "Hurry!"

Quickly returning her attention to her partner, Scully holstered 
her gun, trotted over and slapped her cuffs on the squirming 
prisoner. She glanced over her shoulder to find that Lucas and 
Van Owen had the restaurant patrons under control and out of 
the way. Lucas had a cell phone to his ear, obviously calling 
for reinforcements. Groping Gertie was leaning back in her 
chair, fanning herself with a cloth napkin, eyes locked on 
Mulder as he rose from the floor. 

Scully could definitely relate. She liked nothing better than 
watching Mulder's body, no matter what he was doing. He 
wasn't the least bit embarrassed about wandering around their 
apartments naked and she wasn't the least bit ashamed about 
ogling him shamelessly when he did. But right now she still 
had work to do.

She reached down and helped Mulder pull the suspect to his 
feet. She recognized the man from the police composite 
sketch, right down to the distinctive birthmark on the side of 
his face. How had he eluded the agents outside? 

That was the first question asked when the backup team 
charged inside the restaurant. Mulder pulled the perp forward 
by the handcuffs and said he might have the beginnings of an 
answer.

"I came out of the waiter's dressing room and he was just 
entering the hallway from the basement stairs. I recognized 
him and yelled for him to stop. That's when he took off. I 
haven't had a chance to see what might be down there."

The SAC dispatched Agent Van Owen to the basement with 
instructions not to come back until he'd found something. He 
returned in a few minutes, splotches of dust and cobwebs 
decorating his chest and loincloth.

"Old buildings have basements and sometimes the basements 
have connecting tunnels for moving supplies from place to 
place," Van Owen announced. "This one was boarded up, but 
our bright boy figured out a way to open it without making it 
look like it's open. No one saw him enter or leave because he 
was going into another building and using the tunnel."

Mulder gave his captive a little shake. "Smart, but not quite 
smart enough. How about a nice ride to a cozy jail cell? My 
treat."

The agents filed back outside, Mulder appearing very primitive 
in his loincloth as he led the prisoner to the door. Van Owen 
and Lucas indicated that they were going to the dressing room. 
Scully went back to her table and waited. 

She really hoped they would be going home after this. It was 
getting late, but she wasn't tired -- far from it after spending 
several hours in the presence of a nearly-naked Mulder. When 
they could leave would depend on when Skinner wanted their 
report. She knew they'd have to brief him sooner or later.

She had her fingers crossed for later rather than sooner.

Mulder strode back into the restaurant with a relieved look on 
his face. 

"The debriefing's tomorrow morning," he said. "The SAC says 
Skinner told him we can go home. I'm gonna clean up."

He turned, but before he could move away, Scully reached out 
and grabbed his arm. He looked at her with a question in his 
eyes.

She raked his body with her gaze and licked her lips again. 

"Bring the loincloth with you, Mulder."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE END

Additional notes: Further influence was provided by banlu's 
own Kilt series of stories. http://banlu.xffics.com/Kilt.html

Feedback: mimic1172@gmail.com