Ricky Caruso's Big Case
by Ursula
Rated: A
★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★
Stepping over Mulder and Krycek who were screwing merrily on a nest of unsolved cases, Ricky Caruso gently shut the door of the private restroom Ursula had installed for Scully. The poor agent had morning sickness twenty-four hours a day. Kinder then the big guy in her own perverse way, the oddment had added a very nice marble topped desk she had downloaded for her Sims game to the bathroom.
His stride, firm and sure, except for an occasional skip he couldn't repress, Ricky made his way to Skinner's office. He passed a swaying line of Doggetts who had locked arms sixties style and were singing, "All we are saying is give season eight a chance."
Yeah, right, whatever, Ricky marched, composing his little speech in his head. Ever since Agent Denis Bryson had showed up, he might as well as be back in the Commish, writing traffic tickets.
Wait a minute...who was this intruder with the long nose and another look alike to Alex and Ricky...this one naked, dripping wet, steam rising from his pale golden skin, a burglar's bag clutched in his right hand and a magnum of champagne in the other. Ricky snorted and said, "Cory, what the hell are you doing here?"
"Here to steal the plans for Season nine...I'm going write in this great myth arc about immortals so Methos and I can appear. You like?" Cory asked.
"Hey, good idea, carry on." Ricky said. He frowned as Jeff Spender walked by wearing a nice suit jacket over a tee shirt that said, "My daddy went to hell and all I got was this lousy tee shirt." The former homicide victim had a maniacally dancing fellow in custody. Despite the cuffs and the scruffy clothes, the man had a certain nave charm.
Hmm, twin-cest, it had a lack of virtue that was so exciting. Maybe Ricky would visit the detention area later... maybe not, as a long arm reached out and grabbed the man from Jeff. The long nosed fellow thrust the man at Cory and whimpered in chisel-sharp ancient Egyptian, "I want him. I want him. Pick the lock, Cory!"
Ricky's twin sighed and said, "Oh, Methos! Well, maybe. Share?"
"Sure? Or trade you for Duncan?" The man with the big sword in his pants offered.
"Been there. Had that. Stole his tee shirt." Cory summarized. "Nope, no deal unless, you share."
At that point, Spender yelled, "Wait a minute, Anson's my prisoner. I'm going strip search him and...and strip search him again."
Always kind hearted, Ricky put a gentle hand on Jeff's shoulder and said, "Look, Jeff, daddy!"
A hole appeared in the floor through which Jeff made his escape. A moment later, he said, "Pendrell? What are you doing here, wearing only a cocktail napkin? Never mind, I have this great idea for a game...wanna play Ferret eats the Lab-mouse?"
Ricky walked on, satisfied in a job well done. Kim looked up from a centerfold picture of the underwear scene from Zero Sum and said, "He's not expecting you. Walk right in." She held out the centerfold and kissed the big staple midway down on the page.
A thud sounded as Ricky walked in. Ah, that bitch in heat, Denise Bryson again. She was wearing panties on her-his lower body and a suit jacket on the upper body, dress shirt rumpled and tie only half fastened. Her skirt lay crumpled on the floor, as did she, apparently newly dropped from Walter's lap. Lipstick smears covered most of the assistant director's face and his eyes were glazed...terra cotta glazed as a matter of fact.
Walter said, "Agent Caruso, take down your pants and bend over my desk."
Smugly grinning at Bryson who sniffed Scarlett O'Hara fashion and rolled her eyes, Ricky seductively lowered his suit pants, his boxer shorts, and exposed his round, firm, peach of an ass to the world. He wiggled his charms causing....
Brief Intermission...heat flash...okay, back.
Walter to jab a needle into all that sweet flesh.
Ricky leapt up and asked, "What the hell was that?"
"The doctor prescribed a little medication for your attention deficit disorder with hyperactivity." Walter commented.
"I doubt she even has a license to practice." Ricky grumbled, rubbing his sore butt. A moment later soft lips nibbled at the sore spot.
"Kiss it and make it all better." Walter said in muffled tones, one foot lifting the rug and the other scooting Bryson under it to save for later.
One hour, thirty minutes, and fifteen seconds later, Ricky stumbled out of the office. Everything was well in Crossover land, for Ricky Caruso had hit a homer...Gratuitous Simpson-Pie-throwing scene inserted here.
"Okay, it's not a big X File, but a guys got to start somewhere." Ricky muttered. "Let's see. Woman turned into Spam...okay, first stop, ordinance. I think I'll need a can opener to crack this case."
Ricky shuddered, hoping it was not an epidemic like the yam transforming plague....
End
★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★
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