Spin Cycle by Leyla Harrison Disclaimer: Carter and Kerry are the creation and therefore property of some big corporation. They don't belong to me. Rating: strong PG-13 for a little innuendo and a few bad words. Timeline: This story takes place when Kerry and Carter are still roommates -- so, sometime during mid to late season 5. Spoilers: This story is 100% spoiler free. Isn't that refreshing? Note: This is the third in a series of what will be five separate challenge stories. Each one is part of the series, but can stand alone. This is Challenge Story #3. All right, all right. Calm down. Let me explain. Over in the X-Files fanfic world where I used to write regularly (I've since defected and come over to the ER side), there are things known as fanfic challenges. A fic writer lets others know that they are willing to write a challenge story, and several people provide "elements" that must be included in the story. The fic writer can then write about anything they want, with any plot and any characters, as long as all of the elements appear somewhere in the story. So my lovely editor and friend Shannon challenged me to a story. One story turned into five (her decision and my acceptance) to keep me from getting writer's block, and to keep her (and you) entertained. This is what she asked for. (In other words, it's all her fault. ) A short vignette containing Kerry/Carter UST (unresolved sexual tension), containing the following elements: 1) Carter and Kerry do laundry together -- must take place in a laundromat (I don't care if she's got a great laundry room in her house -- it's broken). 2) Someone is washing an old baby blanket (with bunnies on it). 3) Carter sits on the dryer while holding a conversation with Kerry. 4) Dryer Sheets vs. Liquid Fabric Softener becomes a hot debate. 5) A dryer must be shared because it's the last one available -- and they're washing "unmentionables". Start time: Tuesday, October 3, 2000, 11:45am Finish time: Tuesday, October 3, 2000, 2:30pm And now, on with the story. *** I am not a happy woman today. It's my day off. I was planning on spending the cold winter afternoon with a bottle of wine, a good book, and the smell of laundry in the dryer. Instead, I dug the car out from a snowbank (one hour and thirty minutes), dragged the laundry out to the car (two trips), and the last hour has been spent in the laundromat down the street from my house, using up all my quarters on washing machines and little boxes of laundry soap, which I forgot to bring from home. My washer died on me this morning. Of course, I still had the dryer -- but it didn't do me much good when the clothes were still dirty. The mechanic has promised me that he would have the part for the washer on Monday. "God damn it," I mutter, pulling a little too hard on the tab on the small cardboard box of laundry soap that I got out of the vending machine. Grains of laundry soap tumble over my fingers and fall to the floor. "Need some help?" I look up and see Carter standing in front of me. "What are you doing here?" "Got off work and went home to do some laundry. The washer's broken." "Yes, I noticed," I answer sarcastically. "What do you think I'm doing here?" He notices the pile of laundry I have in a basket. "Ah. It seems we have something in common." "A pile of dirty clothes," I tell him. "And a desperate need for clean socks." "Apparently, however, we've both made the mistake of choosing the wrong laundromat. Half the machines are out of order, and the rest are full. Someone, or many someones, it seems, have left their clean laundry in the washers." I turn around. "And the dryers." Carter chuckles. "Sounds like a conspiracy to me, Kerry." I lift the lid of one washer that isn't running. I pull out a blanket, almost threadbare. "Look at this," I murmur. Carter sets his basket down on the counter and comes over to see. "Cute," he says. "It's a baby blanket," I tell him. I smooth my fingers over the wet material, touching the small white bunnies that are scattered on the pink background. The edge of the blanket is a soft pink satin. "It's pretty," he says. "Someone should have been here to put it in the dryer." He looks around. There's no one else in the laundromat. I pull the blanket out of the washer and find one of the empty dryers. I shove the blanket in and close the door. "What are you doing?" "Putting it in the dryer," I tell him. I've still got three fabric softener sheets left in the package from the vending machine. I throw one in, put a few quarters in and press the start button. I turn around to find Carter watching me carefully. "Well, that was very nice of you." "It's a nice blanket." "Ever think about having kids?" Carter asks me, out of the blue. I'm stunned into silence by his question. "Did I say something wrong?" I shake my head. "No, you didn�t." He waits. "I don't think children would fit into my life at this point," I tell him. He looks at me in surprise. "You'd be a great mother." I smile. "That's not really the issue, Carter. As I'm sure you've noticed, I don't have men beating down the door." "No," he says, "but you've got one living in your basement." I hold my breath. What is he saying? "I, uh -- " he stutters. "I didn't mean that we should -- I mean -- damn, I don't know what I meant." I let out the breath I'm holding. "You meant well, Carter." We find two washers that are empty and load our laundry into them, side by side, in silence. When we're done, we start the machines. "And now, we wait," I announce. "It's funny, you know," Carter tells me, hoisting himself up onto his washing machine to sit there, "up until recently, I didn't know how to use a washing machine." I look him over. "You didn't know how to use a washing machine?" I echo. He grins at me. "Come on, Kerry." "Oh, right," I reply. "Let me guess: the maid did the laundry?" "Nope. We had a laundry service." I shake my head in disbelief. Most days I forget that Carter comes from money. "You certainly operate the washer and dryer at home with ease," I tell him. "Like a pro," he says proudly. "You know, there's something I don't understand. Explain to me why you used a dryer sheet just now." I look at him. "It's a fabric softener. It's really not that complicated." "But at home you use liquid fabric softener. In the washer." I gesture towards the vending machine. "They were all out." "Aha. So you prefer liquid fabric softener to dryer fabric softener?" he asks. "You know, Carter, as scintillating as this conversation is, I'm starting to wish I had brought a book." He pretends to look hurt. "And miss out on this incredibly interesting discussion?" I sigh. "It's not a big deal. I prefer liquid fabric softener. End of story." "Why?" he asks. "Why use fabric softener at all?" "You may prefer your clothes to be scratchy and stiff," I tell him, "but if something's going to touch my skin, I like it to be soft." He gets a strange look on his face. "Soft," he repeats, just loudly enough to be heard over the machines. "Your skin is soft." "Is this free association?" I ask him, but I have to admit, I'm feeling a little flushed. He thinks I have soft skin? The machine makes a noise and he jumps a little. "I guess it's started agitating." "Feel good?" I ask, without thinking. He regards me solemnly and nods. "Actually, it does." He pats his lap. "Want to feel it?" Afraid my voice will betray me, I don't say anything for a long moment. "I'm, uh, going to run across the street to the convenience store for something to drink. Do you want anything?" I ask. He looks at me, his eyes traveling from my face down my body slowly, then back up to my face. "I'll be right back," I tell him quickly, and make my getaway. Outside, I stand by the door of the laundromat for a moment, then steal a quick glance back inside. Although it's bitterly cold out, I'm burning up. **** There are a few more people in the laundromat by the time the clothes are ready to go into the dryer. "I don't think I have enough quarters," Carter tells me, counting the silver coins in his palm. "I've got a few extras," I tell him. He glances up, at the row of dryers. "Um, Kerry -- " "What?" He points. "Looks like there's only one dryer left." I walk down the row, peering into each tumbling dryer. All of them are running except the second one from the end. "We can share it," I offer. The laundromat has some carts on wheels, and I load my wet laundry into one and Carter piles his on top. I push the cart over to the one free dryer and start loading the clothes in. "Cute," I tell him with a smirk, holding up a pair of plaid boxers, and then tossing them into the dryer. Carter reaches into the pile and pulls out a pair of black satin panties. "I personally like these." I swallow hard, then reach for them. "Give me those." He's holding them out of my reach, which isn't tough because he's so much taller than me. "Carter, come on. Give them back." He holds them above his head. "No, seriously, Kerry. They're really nice. And very silky." "Damn it, Carter -- " "All right, all right." He hands them back to me and I throw them in the dryer. "Fabric softener sheet?" he asks. "After all, you want them to stay soft against your skin, right?" I have to turn my face away from him to hide the heat on my cheeks. I finish putting the clothes in the dryer and slam the door shut, a little harder than necessary. Then I put the quarters in and press start. Finally turning to face him, I see that he looks downright devilish. I walk over to the washing machines and lean my back up against one, just watching him. He follows me, and before I can stop him, he lifts me up and places me on top of the machine. "Carter!" I exclaim. He leans in close, so that his face is almost buried in my chest, so close that I can smell his aftershave. He smells spicy. "I just wanted to make sure you got a chance to feel what it was like when it's spinning," he says coyly. "Oh," I say, smiling at him. "I'm spinning, all right." END / Spin Cycle