DISCLAIMERS: the following characters belong to Ten-Thirteen Productions/
Thames & Carlton TV and the BBC. The Teletubbies definitely belong to the
BBC, who deserves every penny of its license fee, in fact it deserves a
huge increase.... .

THANKS to Kelly, who wanted a story with Mulder and Reg in, and for reading
the resulting alcohol induced consequence. And to Leigh, who in
inadvertently discussing the Teletubbies on Slashpoint gave us the missing
link. And to Alexandra for encouragement and offering to read the results,
see what happens!

COMMENTS TO Elanor (HBrown9628@aol.com)

RATING: NC17 m/m slash M/K/Reg Hollis/Teletubbies

=================

One of those days

by Elanor

It was one of those days in Sun Hill.

Brownlow had come back from Area in a foul mood, all hush-hush. But
whatever it had been it had left him in this unholy temper, which bled
quickly throughout the station. There was only one clear consistent order,
keep Reg Hollis off the streets and away from any and every potential
disaster.

11am. The Front Desk - Sun Hill Police Station.

Despite having worked out he was persona non grata yet again. Reg was his
usual cheerful self. Or rather he wasn't going to worry about it; the sun
was shining, his marigolds were blooming and all was well with the world of
Reg Hollis, resident station joke.

11.05am.

Six foot of gorgeous , trench-coated muscle barged through the entrance
door and landed squarely on the front desk. A beatific smile from dopey
hazel eyes, and a quivering pouty lip turned Reg's insides into liquid
fire. Wow.

A badge flashed in front of Reg's dazed eyes. Special Agent Mulder FBI. The
object of desire broke into a fit of giggles.

'Is that a truncheon I see before me, or are you just pleased to see me?
Sorry.' Although he didn't look in the slightest bit sorry. 'I've always
wanted to say that ever since I was at Oxford, the closest I came was
licking a policeman's helmet, ooops, sorry again, meant stealing, I
wouldn't want you to think I've got a one track mind or anything.' This
followed by another burst of insane giggling.

'Can I be of assistance, Sir?' Reg tried in his best patient policeman
voice.

'Certainly.' Mulder peered closely, 'Constable', he finally announced
proudly at his highly intelligent deduction, and without Scully's help as
well.

'I'd like to report the presence of........ aliens.'

'Aliens?' Reg's eyebrows shot skywards about the same time as his brain
clicked into gear trying to work out how he was going to explain this one
in the staff canteen.

'Yeah, this one was nearly seven foot, including the antennae on its head,
bright purple, and carried a purse.'

'I'm sure it did, Sir.' Reg enunciated carefully, whilst trying to remember
the number of the duty doctor. 'If you'd care to take a seat, I'll find the
right form for you to fill in, we must get the details right musn't we?'

'I'm fine where I am,' said Mulder who lay down flat on the top of the
counter. Mulder blinked upwards at the uniformed vision before him, reached
up and pulled Reg down for a deep passionate kiss, thrusting his tongue
throatward. 'Bacon and eggs,' was the comment that followed.

'What?' squeaked Reg.

'What you had for breakfast, of course.'

Reg tried his hardest to pull himself together. 'Now, Sir. None of that, go
and sit down like a good FBI agent while Uncle Reg makes a little phone
call.

To the station doctor to get this guy certified. A great pity.... It wasn't
every day six foot of gorgeous hunk landed on the front desk. But giant
purple aliens was just going a little bit too far.

11.30am.

Reg put the phone down and glanced up at the sound of the front door
opening once more. Fully expecting his gorgeous lunatic to have made a bolt
for it.

But oh no. Hunk of the year had been joined by..... A one-armed, leather
jacketed.... Oh wow. Reg was just about to melt into a pool of liquid
ecstasy on the floor.

Pulling himself together one more time, after all he was Reg Hollis super-
hero, he gazed into hypnotic green eyes.

'Don't worry Constable. I'll take care of Agent Mulder now... Just forget
you ever saw or heard him.

'But?'

'No need to worry.'

'Seven foot purple aliens!' Reg was getting quite frantic by now. There
were already enough lunatics on the streets as it was.

'It's ok, Agent Mulder hasn't been well, but I'll take care of him now.'

Reg sighed, the stranger wasn't about to take no for an answer. But as they
went through the door, Mulder glanced back over his shoulder and blew Reg a
fond kiss.

'Sssh, Foxy Baby. You've just OD'd on Tubby Custard, it'll soon wear off,
promise.'

'I can see rabbits, and windmills, and flowers, .... such pretty colours.'

'It'll soon be better baby, Alex is going to make it all go away.'

Reg looked longingly at the two posteriors exiting the station, then pushed
his report into the shredder.

4.30pm

Reg's shift over, he started cycling back to the section house, looking
forward to a nice long fantasy involving Agent Mulder and friend. Just
stopping for a burger on the way. But as he went to get back on his bike,
he noticed a flash of purple at the end of an alleyway. Reg, being Reg,
pushed the bike along the alley, then peered slowly around the corner at
the end. Another flash of vivid purple, then a face, wearing a big smile,
and with a large antenna on the top. A large purple being stood in front of
him. Uh oh. It stared curiously at Reg, who stared back immobilised with
fear. As he stood there paralysed it was joined by a smaller yellow furry
being, then an even smaller green, one, then the smallest of all, a little
red one. 'Po.' It announced.

'Time for Tubby bye byes, Time for Tubby bye byes.' The four of them danced
around then ran into the neighbouring warehouse. And as 'Bye', echoed
around him Reg watched a large green circular spaceship shoot upwards.

Reg just remounted his bicycle, turned around and rode home.

5pm. A packing crate in a Warehouse, somewhere near the River Thames.

'Yes, yes, oh god yes, fuck me senseless you big hairy alien.' Alex paused
his thrusting, gasping for breath. In vain. What on earth had that
cigarette smoking bastard and his cronies put in that ghastly pink custard?
A combination of LSD and the world's strongest aphrodisiac?

Keep Mulder happy he'd ordered, until the stuff wore off, and they'd got
the crates safely away. Then Mulder wouldn't remember a thing, god he
wouldn't even remember Alex's sacrifice to make any of it worth while...
Five hours, *five* hours and Alex had reached the absolute limits of his
endurance....

Role playing with Mulder.... Five hours of playing 'fuck with the aliens'.
He started to dream longingly of the times Mulder hit him, threatened him,
helped chain him to balconies, anything except....

'Come on Tinky Winky, keep going, screw me big boy.'

Alex groaned, gritted his teeth and started again.

The Next Day.

8.30am. Sun Hill Briefing Room

Practically the whole station was there, minus CID, for whom it was far too
mundane, but plus a bored looking DCI Meadows and DC Skase slumming it
amongst the uniforms.

'Well, I think 'Operation Grey Skies', passed off remarkably well. As you
all know (except Reg, who'd never been told). Yesterday we had visitors on
our patch. Outsiders, the FBI, and a bunch of bigwigs from New Scotland
Yard. And we had strict orders to keep you lot out of their way.' Meadows'
expression showed what he thought of all that.

With a malicious grin he announced, 'Well I can tell you all now, that they
failed.' The room errupted with big cheers. ' Apparently they were trying
to track down some packing crates on their way from Russia. I have to
remind you of course that this is all top secret.' More laughing.

DC Skase was a lot less tactful. 'Fucking mad the lot of them. This one
guy, who thought he was God's gift to everyone, never stopped muttering
about furry aliens the whole time he was here, until he went and
disappeared himself, still missing, if anyone should come across him by the
way. Kidnapped by one of his furry friends with any luck.'

Reg nearly choked himself.

'OK Reg?' Tony Stamp seemed quite concerned. ''Quiet day at the desk
yesterday?'

'Yes, fine, no trouble at all. Just another quiet day.'

9.00am

Back on the front desk once more. Reg smiled to himself. Despite the
conspiracy to stop him, Reg Hollis always came out on top, even if no one
ever knew. He thought of all those packing crates filled with all that
lovely pink custard etc, he'd discovered on his slight detour to work this
morning, and smiled to himself once more.

Back to reality, he picked up the ashtray off the counter and tipped it in
the waste bin. Morley's never heard of them.

Somewhere outside Washington D.C.

He lit another cigarette and stared at the glass container of pink gooey
mess. This was what those double-crossing aliens had promised them? The
wonder substance?

He supposed he was lucky they'd lost half the crates.

And lucky they'd managed to get out just before the original owners had
arrived to reclaim their property.

A pity about having to sacrifice Krycek and Mulder though. Well they should
be all right in that crate for a bit, with at least a year's supply of the
pink stuff to keep them happy.

And as to what could one do with a warehouse of gunge whose only known use
was as an hallucinogenic aphrodisiac? On reflection, *maybe* it was about
time he paid Skinner another one of his visits. Or? He sat back, took
another puff of his cigarette and contemplated the possibilities.

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