A Red Love Bizarre or The Roswell Chest

The Roswell Chest

F13:TS and X-Files crossover story, be-otch...

Title: A Red Love Bizarre, Otherwise Known as The Roswell Chest

Author: Pepperstasia Beaverhausen

Rating: R for strong ass sexual content and plenty of cussing

Categories: Crossover, MRR, MSR, bits of humor and angst. You know, the usual. Alternating various POV's, though this is mainly Ryan and Mulder's show

Spoilers: slight mentions of "Tooms", "The Pilot", and "Chinga" for the X-Files and "The Baron's Bride", "Root of All Evil", and "The Inheritance" for F13:TS

Timeline: Season six for X-Files, around beginning of Season two for F13:TS

Author's Notes and the Disclaimer: The characters involved in this story are not mine, they are the inventions of Chris Carter and Frank (to the) Mancuso, Jr. I'm just borrowing them to entertain you. Anyhoo, I've been writing X-Files fanfic for years, but just recently got hipped back to the Friday the 13th: The Series scene that I used to love so much I got to stay up late to watch it when I was 9. I realized that these two sets of characters have an extraordinarily similar bent, and the mind started to wander a bit. And here it goes...

4-18-1989 {Ryan}

What a life. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't quit college, hadn' t had my name basically pulled out of a hat along with Micki's to inherit this store and end up in the current situation that I am in. I have no choice. These objects that are out there are killing people, and we're both in way too deep at this point to just walk away and let the other person die. Let alone, anyone else who comes in contact with Uncle Lewis' cursed curios.

It's just...frustrating, at times, for a number of reasons. It is impossible to live normal lives and get involved in romance and the like. Anyone that any of us has gotten close to has died, and I read somewhere that if you are denied a basic human need for too long, like sex, that you can develop certain physical and mental issues. I'm worried; frankly, it's been a while. Among the other elements that drive my point home is living in close quarters with one of the sexiest women I've ever encountered and knowing that I have zero chance with her.

Sure, she isn't blood relation, but Micki is still billed as my cousin, and the exact words out of her mouth were, "Nothing would be stranger than being involved with Ryan."

I agree with this. I also can't help but be constantly turned on by her every move, and therefore, end up feeling perverted, but I don't know what else to do. Micki floats by me every day, braless and flawless.

Oh yeah, did I fail to mention that I've noticed that she rarely wears underwear and *always* goes braless? Yet, her breasts defy every law of gravity. Her body can turn even the most shapeless of outfits into every man's wet dream, and her face...enchantingly gorgeous framed by a thick, curly red mane; she's definitely got the face of an angel and a body for sin. I'm a hopeless case, I know. It's tough though when I feel like she's the only woman I will ever completely relate to.

Damn Uncle Lewis. Too bad you're already in hell or I'd try to send you there myself.

****************************************************************************

4-18-1999 {Mulder}

I can't remember exactly when I first started lusting after Scully. It must have been the underwear incident, sticking in my brain like Pavlovic response. As the years have gone by, however, I've grown to be *in love* with her, and it's just getting more difficult to carry on a professional pretense.