Date sent: Sun, 05 Apr 1998 21:31:17 -0400 From: "Shannon O'Connor" Subject: NEW -- Date III -- VH -- PG TITLE: Date III AUTHOR: Shannon O'Connor E-MAIL: shannono@iname.com DATE: 30 March 1998 DISTRIBUTION: Wherever; just please let me know. (Please send to ATXC; I will send to Gossamer.) CLASSIFICATION: VH RATING: PG SPOILERS: "Unusual Suspects" KEYWORDS: None CONTENT WARNING: Hmmm ... bit of language, I guess. SUMMARY: It's Langly's turn, but his "hot date" doesn't go quite as he had hoped. Third in a series. COMMENTS: I'm still flying from the Expo this weekend; it was *GREAT*!! It also finally provided inspiration for another date story or two, starting with one for Langly. (Oh my *God*, I laughed until my stomach hurt at Dean Haglund's routine!!) I think Krycek's getting the treatment next ... and yes, Nic Lea *is* even better looking in person! DEDICATION: This one's for everyone who requested it (read: threatened me within an inch of my life if I didn't write another one). It's also for Dean Haglund, who made my sister's *life* by pulling her up on stage for his routine at the Atlanta Expo -- and then remembering her name later! DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Scully, Langly, Byers, and Doohickey -- er, Frohike -- don't belong to me, but I'm borrowing them anyway. Dean Haglund belongs to himself, as does his improv routine. Oh, and I stole his date's name from one of the fans at the Expo. Hope she doesn't mind, cause it's too late now! ********** Date III By Shannon O'Connor Believe it or not, I've got one hot date tonight! Geez, when I told Byers and *Doohickey*, you'd have thought the world was coming to an end. Langly with a *real* date? Yeah, like Frohike gets more than a video-induced high on *his* weekends. But this chick, hey, she's got it goin' on. Agent Scully may be hot, but *this* girl is steamin'. Tall, blond, stacked ... what more can I ask for? And on Mulder's recommendation, no less. Guess he thinks he owes me for that date I set him up on. So I throw on my best jeans and an entirely too preppy polo shirt and head for her place. Glad the Gremlin's running okay this week. Didn't want to have to borrow Frohike's VW van or Byers' Volvo. Her place is pretty nice, a nice-sized studio up in College Park. I knock, and she answers pretty quickly. Yowza! Short, tight, black dress, spiky heels, curly hair. Might get me some tonight. I help her into the car -- it's a little hard in *that* dress -- and we head for my favorite place. Laugh Riot, it's called; live comedy, decent food. Got some guy named Haglund this weekend, and I've heard he's pretty good. On the way, I regale her with some of my less classified ideas, and she seems to warm up a bit. At least, she giggles pretty often. So we pull up at the club, and I help her out -- that dress better make this worthwhile later -- and we head inside. Barbi squeals when she sees the marquee. "Ooh, Dean Haglund, I just *love* him!" I smile. *Score one for me,* I think. I hand over the tickets, and we're shown to a table right up next to the stage. Boy, those hacking skills sure come in handy sometimes, although I had to sidestep Byers to work that one out. Still a bit of the narc in him. We settle in and order drinks, settling into a little small talk. It's almost an hour until showtime, so I turn on the charm and start racking up points for later. The drinks go fast, and we pick up a couple of burgers for dinner. So far, so good. Finally, it's showtime. The emcee gives some hokey intro, and then on comes this Haglund guy. Hmmm, looks a bit familiar. Where have I seen him before? He's pretty funny, actually. Doing some kind of improv bit, and pulling people up to help him out. Got some guy making a fool of himself doing "sound effects" at the moment. I try to make a few comments to Barbi, but she keeps waving me off, her attention glued to the stage. She laughs and laughs, and I'm getting a bit concerned. Hey, your date's over here, Barb, not on stage. Finally, the unthinkable happens. This guy pulls *my* date up to help with the last part of his bit. Seems she has to move him around, and she's loving it. She's got her hands all *over* him, and she's grinning like a maniac. I take that back. She's smiling seductively. At him. Things are not looking good for my evening. Thank god, they're done. She'll come back to me now and forget about this clown. But then she grabs him in a hug, he kisses her on the cheek, and I swear I see her hand squeeze his ass. He leans over and whispers something in her ear, and she grins again. She comes back to the table then, and I manage to smile. "Hey, you were great, babe," I say, then realized she's grabbed her purse. "Sorry, Ringo," she says. "But I just got a better offer." She leans over and pecks me on the cheek, then heads for the backstage door. I sit in shock. What the hell has *he* got that I don't? Well, other than money. And fame, relatively speaking. And lack of a propensity toward conspiracy theories. Oh, well. Guess I'll just head home and do a little 'net surfing. **********END**********