Title: Over the River and Through the
Author: Vickie Moseley
Summary: Mulder and Scully are invited to
share Thanksgiving Dinner with the Gunmen.
Mayhem ensues. Written for the Virtual
Season 11 Thanksgiving Day Special.
Category: RST, BT, FA, MA, SA, humor
Archive: Two weeks exclusive property of
VS 11, then anywhere.
Author’s note: This piece is dedicated to
my Sissy, who inspired much of the
Gunmen’s actions, especially the turkey.
I hope she never sees this.
A special Thanksgiving Day thank you to
Sally for super fast beta work!
Comments to email@example.com
Over The River and Through the Woods
by Vickie Moseley
J. Edgar Hoover Building
November 21, 2003
“You did what?” Scully cried out, then,
realizing their location, lowered her
voice to a harsh whisper. “Mulder, what
on God’s earth provoked you to tell
Frohike that we’d go to their place for
Mulder looked quickly around the
lunchroom, nodding and smiling as people
went back to their noon repasts. Finally,
he leaned over the table to keep their
conversation private. “Scully, he invited
us. What was I supposed to do?” he
demanded, a bit wounded that she was
taking this so poorly.
“Well, for starters, you could have lied!
You could have said we had somewhere else
to go, a case, something,” she shot back,
still keeping to that raspy whisper.
Under other circumstances that tone in her
voice usually turned him on, but in the
current situation, it was only giving him
a mild headache, right behind his left
“Why in the world would you commit to
something like that for both of us?” she
continued, taking time out of her tirade
to spear a cherry tomato out of her salad
and shove it in her mouth.
“Look, it won’t be that bad. Besides,
we’d already decided that you weren’t
going out to San Diego to Bill’s with your
Mom . . .”
“Yes, I remember, Mulder. But I also
remember us deciding to have a quiet
Thanksgiving at my apartment, just the two
of us,” she countered.
“Well, yeah, I remember that, too. But
Scully, you should have heard his voice.
You must have mentioned something about
not going to Bill’s because they dreamed
this whole thing up so we wouldn’t be
alone on Thanksgiving.”
“It never occurred to them we might _want_
to be alone on Thanksgiving? That maybe,
since they already know about our
relationship, we might have other _plans_
on Thanksgiving, plans that include other
uses for turkey basters,” she shot back.
“Oh, now you’re just being a tease!” he
cried out, then remembered too late to
lower his voice. “What could we do with
the turkey baster?” he asked, chewing on
his bottom lip.
“Like you’re ever going to find out now,
mister,” she growled in return. “We’re
probably going to end up eating Frohike’s
chili and Langly’s onion dip!”
Mulder sat back, a set look on his face.
“I already told them we’d be there. Let’s
just make the best of it.”
Scully blew out a deep breath and shook
her head. “Fine. Are we supposed to
bring anything to this . . . feast?”
“Ourselves. Frohike made it very clear
they were handling all the food.”
“Then I suggest we get a couple of Hungry
Man frozen turkey dinners for when we get
home Thursday night. I have a feeling
you’re going to be starving,” she said
with a glare.
Mulder had his arms wrapped around Scully
in a warm, comfortable embrace when the
phone by her bed starting ringing and
jolted them both out of a sound sleep.
Mulder fumbled and finally grasped the
offending object, handing it over to
Scully before he flopped back into the
pillows and pulled her closer to him. Now
that he was awake, he tried to hear the
conversation. It didn’t take long for her
to identify the caller.
“Byers? Do you know what time it is?” she
Mulder closed his eyes and shook his head.
“Yeah, I know a little . . .” Scully said
hesitantly. Mulder gave her a questioning
look, he could only hear her side of the
discussion and now his curiosity had
“No, that’s the neck, that much I know. .
. Yeah, they cut the neck, clean it and
then put it in the cavity. . . . I don’t
know why, they just do. People use it,
for soup, for gravy stock, all sorts of
things. Did you find the internal organs?
No, the heart, the liver, the gizzards,
those internal organs. They’re in a bag
and should be somewhere in there. You
need to take that out before you cook the
turkey. . . . Well, maybe that turkey
didn’t get a set. . . . I really don’t
think it’s a conspiracy, Byers. Sometimes
not all the parts get back in. . . . No,
that is _not_ a ‘professional assessment’!
Now, please can you go back to your turkey
and let us get some more sleep? Thank
you. Yeah, we’ll see you at noon, sharp.
I’ll tell him. Bye.” She leaned over
Mulder and put the receiver back on the
“Tell me what?” he asked, nuzzling her
hair as she got comfortable on his chest.
“He thinks we should be investigating the
missing gizzards. Could be some kind of
cover up in the military-industrial-
poultry complex. But he told me it could
wait until Monday,” she said with a sleepy
“That was kind of him,” Mulder smirked and
settled back to sleep.
The two were deep in the throes of a
passionate, deeply erotic kiss when the
phone rang again.
Mulder growled loudly as he grabbed the
phone and handed it to Scully. “Five will
get you ten, that’s Bill,” he muttered,
struggling to keep from pulling the cord
of the phone out of the wall.
“Langly, what’s up?” Scully asked with
“I am! I am!” Mulder growled, biting her
free ear. She swatted him away and
concentrated on the person on the line.
“No, it’s supposed to look that way.
Yeah, just like the can. I know, it is
sort of freaky. Is it really glowing?
Well, maybe it’s just the lighting. No,
Langly, there have been no reports of crop
circles in cranberry fields. Actually, I
think cranberries grow in bogs, not
fields. They grow too far north for
alligators. Well, I guess there could be
swamp monsters, but I’m sure all that
would be cleaned out in processing. Yeah,
we’ll be there at noon. Sure. Yeah. See
ya then. Wait! Langly, the can wasn’t
bulging in any way, was it? That could be
a sign of contamination and in that case,
you should throw it out immediately! No,
you can’t use that for botox, there’s a
special refining process. Yeah, maybe you
She hung up the phone again. “We won’t be
having cranberry sauce this year.”
“Ah, darn,” Mulder said with a smoky look.
“Wanta make it up to me, right now?” He
flipped her over on her back, but not
before taking the phone off its cradle.
“Mulder, what if Skinner tries to call, or
“They can leave a voice mail,” he purred
and continued his soft kisses of her
“Oh yeah,” she moaned in agreement.
Mulder was shaving, Scully was in the
shower when both their cell phones started
ringing at once. Mulder neatly carved a
nick in his right cheek before he was able
to drop the razor and run into the bedroom
to dig his phone out of his pants pocket.
“Mulder,” he said gruffly.
“Better tell Scully her phone is out of
service,” Frohike said accusingly.
“Nah, we just took it off the hook,”
Mulder replied with a smug grin. “What do
you need this time?”
“Is the lovely Agent Scully nearby?”
“No, Frohike, the lovely Agent Scully is
currently washing her hair in the shower,
and I’m not man enough to call her out.
“Um, no,” came the quick response. “I’ll
call back later.”
“What’s the problem, Frohike. I might be
able to help.”
There was silence on the other line for a
minute. “Oh, OK. I guess. When a recipe
calls for milk, what if you don’t have the
exact type they call for?”
“Milk? All milk is the same, Frohike.
What, you got skim milk or something?”
“Yeah, something like that. Hey, just
answer the question!”
Mulder rubbed his chin, dislodging the
small scab that was trying to form. “I
would say you can use whatever milk you
want. Now, do you guys think you can
handle the rest of the morning by
yourselves? I’d really like to get
“Oh, yeah, sure. Thanks. We’ll try not
to bother you again,” Frohike said
hastily. “See you at noon.”
“See you then,” Mulder said and closed the
phone, laying it on the dresser.
“Mulder, you don’t even have your shoes
on,” Scully exclaimed, a basket of laundry
on her hip.
“I’m thinking, maybe we still have time to
do something here,” Mulder said, chewing
his bottom lip.
Scully could smell a rat. “They called
while I was downstairs getting the clothes
out of the dryer, didn’t they?” she
“Scully, I’m getting really worried about
this. I’m almost out of sick time and I
really don’t want to get salmonella for
“What was the problem now?” she asked,
nudging him over on the couch so she could
sit down. Automatically, he started
helping her fold the clothes.
“Apparently Byers forgot to stuff the
“That’s not a problem. They can bake the
stuffing in a casserole dish. It doesn’t
have to go in the turkey.”
“But he put the turkey in the oven at 6
this morning. That was hours ago. The
turkey has to be pretty hot by now,” she
“They were calling from the Emergency
“It’s only second degree burns,” he said,
casually folding a pillowcase.
“Well, that’s good.”
“The doctor was dressing Byer’s arm and
they should be back at their place before
Scully looked over at him, meeting his
eyes. “I suppose it would look suspicious
if we suddenly had to run off on a case.”
“Suspicious, yes. Safer . . .
“But Mulder, they’ve gone to so much
trouble. And as you said, they’re doing
it for us. We really can’t disappoint
“Besides, before today is over, they may
need another doctor,” he agreed with a
heavy sigh. “We all might.”
Office of the Lonegunmen
Mulder rapped on the door and both agents
waited patiently while at least 8
different locks were thrown back. Langly
opened the door, waving them inside.
Scully tried hard not to stare at the
‘Kiss the Cook’ apron he was wearing over
his usual black Ramones tee-shirt.
“Hi. Frohike’s in the kitchen. Byers is
resting,” he said by way of greeting.
“How’s the turkey?” Mulder asked.
“He’ll be fine. Doc said it’d be healed
in a couple of days,” Langly shot over his
“I meant the bird in the oven,” Mulder
“Maybe I better go check on Byers,” Scully
whispered to Mulder and headed off into
the open room stuffed with computer tables
and one lone sofa. Jon Byers was slumped
on the sofa, his right arm bandaged and
propped on pillows and a dejected look on
his face. He barely glanced up when she
sat down beside him.
“Hi. How does the arm feel, Jon? Does it
hurt much?” she asked tenderly.
“No,” he said with a glum expression.
“They gave me a shot. It doesn’t hurt.”
“Well, that’s good. Did they give you
medicine to stop infection?”
“The doctor gave me some salve, told me to
keep it dry and covered until the blisters
break on their own. Then I can leave it
unwrapped. But they didn’t give me
anything for infection.” He finally
looked up at her with suspicion. “Should
they have given me something for
Scully smiled. “Not necessarily. If it
wasn’t that bad a burn, it should heal
fine on its own, as long as you follow the
“It’s caused enough trouble already,”
Byers said with a sigh.
“Jon, it was an accident. Don’t worry
about it. No damage done,” she told him
brightly as she patted his good arm.
“I was doing everything just as the recipe
said, step by step. How did I miss the
part about putting in the stuffing?” he
“Jon, I’m sure it will be fine. Just rest
now. You may think it’s just a small
injury, but your body needs to cope.”
“Thanks, Agent Scully.”
“Um, Scully?” Mulder was in the doorway,
again chewing on that bottom lip. “Can
you join us in the kitchen for a moment?”
She patted Byers arm again and got up to
join her partner. Mulder was standing a
few feet from the counter, Frohike and
Langly were staring at an object on the
countertop. It appeared to be the shape
of a turkey, but it was covered in a flaky
substance that Scully was hard pressed to
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“What’s the matter?” Frohike hissed.
“This damned turkey has the mange!”
“Shhh, Byer’s right in the next room,
he’ll hear you!” Mulder warned.
“Mange?” Scully echoed.
“Yeah, you know, the mange. When we were
kids, my old man won me a puppy in a poker
game. Darned dog had mange, that skin
affliction that makes the entire skin
blister off. We had to bathe it every day
in this stuff that smelled awful. I’ll
never forget it. And that,” he concluded,
pointing to the bird, “is exactly what it
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Scully said with a
good deal of trepidation.
“He tried to do something goofy. Got it
off the net,” Langly said, picking up a
sheet of paper and handing it to Scully.
She scanned the paper, a recipe from the
magazine Epicurious, and then handed it
“Scully, what’s wrong with the turkey?”
Mulder asked impatiently.
“Nothing. Nothing at all. It’s just, uh,
well, Jon decided to put a batter on it.
To keep it moist.”
“That’s batter? Like what, KFC extra
crispy?” he mocked.
“I imagine the concept is more in line
with Beef Wellington, but suffice it to
say it should not affect the flavor of the
turkey meat. And you can always scrape it
off,” she told her partner, directing her
words to Langly and Frohike. “Since Jon
feels bad enough, I suggest we leave this
discussion in this room, gentlemen. Eat
the turkey and keep your comments to
yourself!” She turned on her heel and
left the room.
Half an hour later, the five very hungry
individuals sat down at the table to eat.
Scully noticed that the plates were the
higher quality paper plates and the silver
was actually metal, a step up from the
plasticware she was expecting. They’d
even thought of napkins, she noted, as a
she picked up the one sitting next to her
plate and saw a cartoon Turkey smiling at
her and begging her indulgence with the
caption ‘Eat more Pork!’
Casserole dishes of various sizes crowded
the table. Frohike arrived last, carrying
the turkey, batter and all, on a tray. He
set it down at his place and proceeded to
carve off several slices. Mulder smiled
and squeezed his partner’s hand under the
table. She’d been right, the inside
looked better than the outside.
For several minutes there was on the sound
of metal scraping on glass and porcelain.
Mulder grabbed the dish with the green
bean casserole and took a heaping helping.
With a wink to his partner he took a big
bite, and choked. Covering quickly, he
swallowed the contents of his mouth and
drank half his water. “Um, guys, what did
you put in the green beans?” he inquired,
when he could find his voice.
“That’s the one you helped on Mulder,”
Frohike said proudly.
“Oh, no, I had no part in this,” Mulder
“Yeah, you did. Remember, I called you
about the milk.”
“OK, I remember that, but Frohike, where
in the recipe did it call for sugar?”
Scully looked from Mulder to Frohike and
down at her plate. Cautiously, she
scooped up a bite of the casserole in
question and tasted it. Smiling stiffly,
she nodded, as if she knew a secret no one
else did. “Frohike, you didn’t have any
fresh milk, did you?”
“No,” Frohike said and pointed a fork at
Langly. “Blondie here had to use it all
up making mashed potatoes.”
“So I take it you used canned milk
instead,” she offered.
Frohike nodded proudly. “I called you
guys. Mulder said milk was milk and I
should use what I had.”
Scully smiled, again it was a bit
strained. “That’s true in almost every
case. But you see, sweetened condensed
milk is for . . .”
“OW!” Langly yelled. “What the hell!” He
poked a finger into his mouth and pulled
out what looked like a piece of seashell.
“About broke my damned tooth! What is
Byers’ eyes went wide. “I thought, well,
since Mulder’s from the Vineyard, don’t
they serve oyster dressing up there,
“Mom always shucked the oysters first,”
Mulder said quietly.
Finally, it was time for dessert. Mulder
had to admit, the turkey had tasted fine,
despite the unsettling appearance. That
had been a good thing, because nothing
else was edible. He was terrified of what
these three would do to a harmless pumpkin
and almost expected a can of shaving cream
as an accompaniment.
Langly brought the pie to the table and,
much to Mulder’s relief, a tub of Cool
Whip brand topping. Mulder and Scully
exchanged glances. The pie looked good,
but then, so had the green bean casserole.
Langly took no notice. He was slicing up
the pie and serving it with a big dollop
When the pie landed in front of Mulder, he
stared at it for several minutes. He
wasn’t just being polite, waiting until
everyone else was served. There was no
way he was going to be the one to test the
pie. Frohike, oblivious to his guests’
concerns, dug into his pie with relish.
He opened his mouth, consumed the forkful
of custard, crust and whipped topping, and
closed his eyes in blissful appreciation.
Seeing that Frohike hadn’t keeled over,
Scully tried a bite. She, too, nodded
happily. “Langly, this is fantastic!
I’ve never tasted better pie!”
Mulder wasn’t entirely convinced and
searched his partner’s face for any hint
of deception. Finally, he tried the pie
and was happily rewarded. “Langly, you
get the prize. This is great pumpkin
“Yeah. Ya gotta love Baker’s Square,” he
said, beaming. At Frohike’s glare he
bristled. “Hey, you said ‘make a pie’,
but why make a pie when you can buy a pie
Mulder finished off his piece of pie in
record time and looked longingly at the 3
remaining pieces in the pie plate.
“Go ahead, there’s another one in the
kitchen,” Langly cajoled.
“Great!” Scully piped up, scooping herself
up another slice.
Mulder and Scully insisted on doing the
dishes, since the other three had cooked.
After dinner, everyone sat down to watch
the second half of the Green Bay/Detroit
When the game was over, Mulder nudged a
sleeping Scully and nodded toward the
three conspiracy theorists. Frohike,
Langly and Byers were all sound asleep.
“Isn’t that sweet. They’re all tuckered
out,” he whispered. “Quick, now we can
make our escape!”
She giggled and Frohike awoke with a
snort. “Oh, damn, sorry. Must have dozed
“That’s fine, Frohike. We were just
getting ready to head out,” Mulder said
with a smile.
“Hey, wake up! They’re leaving!” Frohike
shouted at the other two, who drowsily
lifted their heads to squint in his
“Oh, gosh, so soon?” Byers asked.
“Yeah, tomorrow is a heavy shopping day,”
Scully reminded him. “Mulder will need
his beauty sleep to help me carry all
those packages,” she added with a sly
grin. “Thanks so much for dinner, guys.
It was, um, quite an experience!”
“Hey, don’t mention it,” Frohike said with
“We won’t,” Mulder said confidently.
The message light on the answering machine
was blinking when they walked into the
“Oh, darn, I bet I missed Bill and Tara’s
call,” Scully whined as she hung up her
“This day isn’t turning out half bad,”
Mulder muttered quietly.
Scully pretended not to hear him and hit
the button for playback. She was
surprised when it wasn’t Bill or Tara, but
Langly’s voice that greeted them.
“Hey, I just thought I’d warn you guys.
Fro’s been in the toilet since you left
and Byers is complaining of stomach
cramps. We can’t pin down the source,
but, well, you never know. Just thought
I’d clue you in. Have a great night!”
Mulder turned to a stricken Scully and
forced a grin. “At least we have three
days to recover!”
Recipe for Green Bean Casserole
2 cans or (or one package frozen) green
1 can condensed cream of mushroom soup
1 can (fill the soup can) milk (fresh
milk, whole, 2 percent or skim)
1 can (approx. 12 ounces) French’s Fried
Combine green beans, soup, milk and half
can of onions in a casserole dish, bake a
350 degrees (F) for 30 minutes, top with
remaining dried onions and bake for an
additional 5 minutes.