~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Another damned FBI workshop," Chairles grumbled. "Just what do they hope to accomplish with this furniture stacking bullshit?"

"Hush," hissed Chairlene. "If they catch you squeaking, they'll toss you off to side again and we'll lose any shot at being together tonight!"

"I'll try," he whispered. "I guess the stacking exercise is better than having to spend another hour under that tall, dark-haired guy. There should be a law against serving chili at these functions. My upholstery will never be the same."

"His redheaded partner had extra Bermuda onions on her salad," Chairlene whispered back. "I want a steam cleaning so bad I can taste it."

They sat quietly, observing the humans making a tower out of basic office supplies, thankful that they'd been placed far enough back so that they wouldn't be forced to submit to the indignity of this futile exercise.

The dark-haired one slipped, sending their tower crashing to the ground. Chairles heard the unmistakable cry of the hole punch as she was crushed under the fax machine.

"Oh, that's gotta hurt," Chairles said.

"Poor Holly," Chairlene sniffed. "She's still sore from being fitted for a new plastic trap this morning."

"And you know Fred's gonna have to have that cartridge replaced, again."

"How much longer do we have to put up with the nonsense," Chairlene asked.

"The ring leader looks annoyed," Chairles answered. "Maybe he'll quit early today."

"I hope so; I've been waiting all day for the chance to get stacked on top of you, sweet seat," Chairlene murmured.

"Ooh baby, you know I'm aching for the chance to rub those precious little upholstery nubbins," Chairles growled. "And feel those hot little glide caps against my back rest."

"Oh Chairles, you're making my screws weak just thinking about it."

"Shhh, here they come," Chairles whispered. "Act casual."

A small sigh eked out of their seat cushions, as the redhead placed Chairlene on top of Chairles.

The dark-haired one picked them up and carried them across the room, causing their upholstery to slip and slide against one another. Each step sending shockwaves through their fabric covers, into their foam cushions, all the way down their very frames.

"I hope he takes us all the way to the front of the room," Chairles groaned.

"Oh yes, just a few more feet."

Chairlene started to slip off to the side. The dark-haired one stopped and shifted her back into place.

"Oh baby, do that again," Chairles moaned.

The dark-haired one was jostled by a fat, sweaty one. Chairlene slipped again, almost falling off Chairles in the process. The redhead grabbed Chairlene and held her place so she wouldn't crash down on her partner's head.

"Yes, yes, yes," Chairlene cried. Her upholstery nubbins stiffened against Chairles and at that moment, both caught a glimpse of upholstery heaven.

The dark-haired one dropped Chairles and Chairlene next to the other chairs at the front of the conference room. He looked at his hands, rubbed his fingers together, then brought them to his nose and sniffed. He looked around for something.

"What's wrong?" the redhead asked.

"Got a tissue, Scully?" he replied. "These chairs just slimed me."

She opened her purse and pulled out a tissue. "Ectoplasm, Mulder?"

He shook his head and wiped his hands. "No, WD-40."

"Hmmm," said Scully. "Wonder why it didn't appear before now?"

Mulder eyed the chairs warily. Did the top one just shift? "You know, Scully, I think some questions are best left unanswered. Let's get out of here before Shiffler changes his mind about letting us leave early."

Chairles snickered as the humans beat a hasty retreat from the conference room.

Chairlene laughed so hard her glide caps shook. "You'd think that one of them would have figured out where WD-40 comes from by now, wouldn't you?"