By Ginef
ginef@aol.com
 

Date: Tue, 28 May 1996
 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Okay, fellow X-Philes. Here it is. My very first fanfic. It's short, sweet
and designed to be read after a particularly trying day. I can't really think
of a witty summary. This story has no plot, no X-File and, to be honest, no
point. What it does have is snappy dialogue (I hope), lots of typos, and a
little lust. Mulder and Scully decide to get lives for the evening and go on
a "date." This little charade leads them into an embarrassing situation. All
you non-relationshippers, give this one a pass. You'll hate it. One 3rd
season spoiler. Anyway, thanks for your time. Hope you enjoy it or least
don't decide to send a lynching mob after me. Comments? Suggestions? Want to
be a witness at my commitment hearing? Write me at ginef@aol.com

The legal stuff.... I have shamelessly stolen the characters and situations
of the television program "The X-Files" for my own perverse pleasure. They
are the creation and property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting and 1013
Productions. I have used them without permission. No copyright infringement
is intended. Please don't sue me. My only assets are a maxed visa card and a
loony dog.

Thanks to my advisors (and you know who you are) for colour and comments, to
Chris Carter (I love you, man) and Darin Morgan (I love you even more, man)
and to Ron Bacardi (I love you the most, man).
 
 

Clear and Present Danger (1/1)

Dana Scully twisted a piece of her auburn hair and frowned into the phone.
"Of course I understand, Ellen. Really."

A sudden knock at the door jerked her attention away from the conversation.
"Hold on, someone's here." Scully stood on tiptoes to peer through the peep
hole and was surprised to see Mulder, hands in pocket, staring at the floor.
She instantly unlatched the door and swung it open, concern evident in her
eyes. "Hi, Mulder. Everything all right?"

He nodded. "Sorry, I didn't  mean to interrupt," he replied, rocking back and
forth on the balls of his feet, not making eye contact.

"You're not. Come on in. I'll be off in a minute," she turned her attention
back to her friend on the phone. "Ellen, my partner's here, so I gotta run.
Tell that godson of mine to stay out of the way of speeding fast balls...
sure... next weekend then... I'll call you tomorrow. Bye."

She disconnected and looked over at Mulder, who had settled himself
comfortably on her sofa. That Mulder, he certainly had a way with couches,
Scully smiled to herself. Sitting down on the opposite end, she wondered what
had brought him here, late on a Saturday afternoon. He was dressed in jeans
and gray wool sweater, his favorite Georgetown ball cap pulled low over his
brow, which ruled out the possibility that he'd been out running or at work--
his two favorite pastimes. The slowly setting sun was casting a shadow across
the room, making his eyes a soft, sleepy green. Something was up. "Mulder, is
everything okay?" she asked.

He squirmed. "Uh, yeah. I was just in the neighbourhood so I thought I'd stop
by and see what you were doing."

Something was definitely up. Mulder was never "just in the neighborhood". But
she decided to play along with him. "Actually, I was supposed to meet Ellen
and Trent at the Uptown for a movie."

"Supposed to?" he asked, still not looking at her. Instead his eyes wandered
around her apartment taking in the details like he hadn't been here a million
times before.

"Trent got hit in the head by a fast ball so they had to cancel," Scully
replied. "He's going to be fine," she added.

Mulder nodded. "What movie?"

"Clear and Present Danger."

"Wasn't that out a couple of years ago?"

"Yeah, it's a second run theater. It's Harrison Ford week."

Mulder rolled his eyes. "Harrison Ford."

"Hey, at least he can act. Unlike the people you lust after in your movies,"
she teased.

"So, you admit it, you lust after Harrison Ford." He had her. He knew it and
that mischievous smile spread across his face as his eyes met hers for the
first time since his arrival. Scully blushed but didn't answer. "So, are you
still going?" he asked, looking away again.

"Naw. I don't like going to the movies alone. Too many normal people with
lives and dates," she said, grinning.

His brow furrowed a moment like it did when he deep in thought. "Scully,
let's have lives tonight."

Scully raised an eyebrow as he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and
dialed. Her brow went even higher when her phone rang. She reached over and
picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hello? Dana? This is," he hesitated a moment before continuing, "this is
Mike. Would you like to go out for a burger and a movie with me?"

"You mean like a date?" she asked, in shock.

Mulder covered the mouthpiece for a moment and looked at her. "Come on,
Scully, work with me here."

"Uh, okay. I guess," she said into the phone.

"Great, I'll pick you up in a few minutes." He hung up the phone.

"Mulder, what are you doing?"

"Tonight, just for one night, we're going to get lives. No FBI, no X Files,
no liver eating mutants."

"Okay," she said, a little uncertain. "But why Mike?"

"People don't call their dates by their last names," he replied with a tone
that suggested that she should know that.

"But your first name is Fox."

"And no one calls me that, as you know--"

"--except my mother--

"--which is different--"

"--no, it's not--"

"-- yes, it is--"

"Okay, but if I don't get to call you Fox then I get to have a new name for
the evening too."

He rubbed his jaw a moment, considering. "Fair enough. What should I call you?"

"Wendy."

"Wendy? You don't look like a Wendy."

"Yeah, well, Mike, I could the same about you."

He nodded his concession and made for the door, which he closed firmly behind
him. Before she had time to wonder what he up to, she heard him knock. She
went to the door and said, "Who is it?"

"It's Mike."

She opened the door. "Hi, Mike. Come on in."

"Thanks," he said. "You all set?"

"Uh, yeah, just let me get my things," she replied, grabbing her purse and a
cardigan sweater. Mulder held the door for her.
 
 

"So, it's Harrison Ford. The one who has the power to melt Dana Scully's
heart," Mulder teased as he took a large bite of his burger.

Scully looked around the Four Provinces taking in the other diners in the
cozy Irish pub while trying to frame the proper response. "Who's Dana
Scully?" she asked finally. "My name's Wendy."

"Oh, right. So, Wendy. Tell me. When did you first notice this hormonal
response to Mr. Ford?"

"God, Mulder, no wonder you don't date much," she said, setting down her burger.

"Hey, just checking out the competition," he said, pressing his hand to his
chest. "Sure I can't talk you into 'Barb Wire'?"

Scully chucked a french fry at him in response. Then she picked up another
and chewed on it thoughtfully. "Actually, it was Han Solo who first won my
heart," she replied. "I think I was twelve and my brothers dragged me with
them to see 'Star Wars'. It was when they broke into the detention area and
he started verbally sparing with Princess Leia that sealed the deal for me."

"'Nice girl, either I'm being to like her or I'm going to kill her,'" Mulder
quoted.

Scully laughed. "I used to try to get my mom to do my hair like that. You
know, the buns on the side." Mulder laughed out loud at mental image that
presented. Scully continued on. "I was so happy when 'Star Wars' came out.
Cause then my brothers wanted to play that instead of 'Star Trek' and at
least there was an interesting female character for me to be. I used to get
tired of being Uhura. She never got to do anything except sit on the bridge
with that funny thing in her ear. My brothers used to make me use one of my
mother's rollers for that. They'd jam it my ear with Silly Putty. I hated it.
And Uhura never got to go on missions or fire a blaster. Climb up jeffries
tubes. Nothing."

He looked down into his coke, the shadow of whatever had been bothering him
earlier falling upon him.  "Samantha used to complain about the same thing,"
he said softly.

And suddenly Scully got it. "Today's the anniversary of her disappearance."

Mulder nodded without looking up. "Twenty-two years," he said, his voice
barely a whisper.

"Oh, Mulder. I'm sorry," she said, reaching over to place her hand on top of
his. He nodded again and closed his eyes. She squeezed his fingers.

"But Mike here doesn't have a sister," he said, head coming up and pulling
his hand away, a glint of mischief returning to his eyes. "In fact, he has
three brothers who...play professional football so he gets free tickets all
the time."

"How come Mike doesn't play? Family wimp?" she asked, dipping a french fry
into catsup and popping it into her mouth.

"Uh, no, high school injury. Career ending."

"Bummer."

"No kidding. He was the most talented of the whole lot."

"Tragic, really."

"His mother cries about it all the time," he said, returning to his hamburger.

"So, what does Mike do now?"

"He's a... an insurance salesman."

"Like Clyde Bruckman?" she laughed.

Mulder met her eyes. "Nothing like Clyde." He was silent for a moment. "Did
he tell you anything. Clyde. You know about how...when?"

"Nope," she said, dropping a fry, suddenly not hungry anymore. "Actually,
that's not true. He told me I wasn't *ever* going to die." Mulder turned his
attention back to his dinner. "Why," Scully couldn't resist asking. "Did he
say something to you?" Mulder shook his head, but didn't look up. "What
gives, Mulder? Out with it."

He dropped his burger. "It was nothing really. He might have said something
about auto-erotic asphyxiation."

Scully nearly spit the coke she was drinking out of her mouth. "What! You're
joking...right?"

Mulder nodded. "Yeah, I'm joking. So, tell me about Wendy. What does she do?"

Scully picked up a fry and considered a moment. "She's a computer programmer
with an interest in gardening and, uh, skiing."

"Oh, interesting. Maybe she can come over and help me install that new modem
Frohike gave me."

"Sure, in exchange for some football tickets."

"Deal." The server brought over the bill and set it on the table after asking
if there was anything else she could get them. Mulder reached for it, but
Scully beat him to it.

"My treat," she said.

"No way. This is a date, the guy pays."

"How fifties of you, Mulder."

"Come on, Scully. Mike pays."

She handed him the bill. "Okay, but I get the movie."

"Deal."
 
 

Twenty minutes later they were walking along the sidewalk enjoying the last
bit of cool November sunshine as it worked its way behind the rows of tiny
houses that populated this area known affectionately (or not) as Yuptown. As
they sidestepped yet another tricycle left unattended on the pavement, Mulder
reached over and took Scully's hand. She looked at him sideways. "Mulder?"
she questioned.

"Mike, and we *are* on a date," he reminded her.

Scully decided to let it go. Actually it felt nice to have her fingers
entwined in his as they walked through a neighbourhood alive with the sounds
of laughing kids and barking dogs. It felt comfortable, like a broken in pair
of 501s. When they reached the theater he waited in the line up while she
went to get the tickets. This is so nice, so normal. I could get used to it,
she thought as she returned to Mulder. He tucked her under one arm and
caressed her hip. She rested her head on his shoulder. To everyone else we
look like your average, everyday couple, she mused. If they only knew...
 

"Popcorn, sweetheart?" Mulder asked. He was milking this date thing for all
it was worth. She didn't know which was worse, that he was doing it or that
she was enjoying it so much.

Scully leaned up and whispered in his ear. "Sweetheart? Laying it on a bit
thick, aren't you?"

"So?"

"What?"

"Popcorn?" he repeated with mock exasperation.

"Of course."

"Butter?"

"Absolutely not!"

"A soul mate."

"I'll go get seats." She felt his arm slip off her shoulder and felt...like
she wanted to stay near him. Hmm, this was something she was going to have to
ponder. At home. Alone. She entered the theater and looked around, finally
deciding on the balcony. She loved this place. A real old time theater. She
settled herself in and waited for Mulder. Somehow he just knew to look for
her in the balcony. As he climbed the steps towards her, she took the time to
notice, really notice, just how handsome her partner was. Especially the way
his eyes were a window to his soul. Everyone always said that, but in his
case it was true. And she'd seen it all. Happiness. Excitement. Joy. Sorrow.
Devastation. Despair. He plopped down in the seat next to her and handed her a
drink. "If it's iced tea it could be love," she said, echoing the words he'd
said to her on that stakeout oh so long ago. Mulder got a funny look on his
face as she took a sip. Iced tea. She was relieved that the lights had begun
to dim and the curtain went up.
 
 

About half an hour into the movie, the popcorn devoured, she felt the weight
of Mulder's arm wrap around her shoulder. She looked over at him and received
a meek smile and shrug of his shoulders by way of explanation. Right, it's a
date, she thought. We're just playing. The only problem was it didn't feel
like a game anymore and she liked the feeling of his arm around her a lot
more than she was prepared to admit. She leaned over and rested her head near
his cheek. He closed his eyes as he breathed in the flowery scent of her hair.
He was trembling, just a little bit. He hoped Scully didn't notice. They were
treading on dangerous ground here. It would be so easy to cross the line that
defined their friend and partnership. He gave her shoulder a gentle caress,
his fingers dancing on her skin. She looked up, green eyes meeting blue. As
if pulled by some unseen force, he leaned down and brushed his mouth past
hers. The sensation was like an electric shock. They backed off, staring at
each other for a moment. Neither one moving. Neither one breathing. Mulder
reached out and touched her face, running his finger along her jawline. Then
their lips rushed to reach each other again.
 
 

When they finally came up for air, the credits were rolling. Scully sat up,
embarrassed, especially when she realized that Mulder's hand was up her
blouse. "Mulder," she hissed, knocking the offending extremity away. "Oh my
god." He was staring at her, dazed. Well, there's a new look in his eye for
my collection-- lust, she thought.

"Uhh," Mulder said, his voice unsteady. "Obviously the game went too far."

"Obviously," Scully replied, rubbing her jaw, which had gotten quite a
workout. They sat watching the credits continue to roll in silence, arms
crossed in front of them, each suffering the screaming in their own mind.
Somehow they made it back to the car and to her apartment. Neither one of
them had said a word. Mulder pulled over in front of her building and parked.

"Can I walk you to your door?" he asked by way of breaking the silence.

Scully smiled, almost. "I don't think that would be a good idea. But thanks
for an, uh, interesting evening."

"Sure. We aim to please," he shot back.

"But I don't think it would be a good idea if Mike were to call Wendy again,
okay?"

"Okay," Mulder agreed. He opened his mouth to say something else, but clamped
it shut again.

"Good night, Mulder," she said, climbing out of the car and heading towards
her apartment. He watched until he saw the light in her window go on and then
he allowed his head to sink to the steering wheel. From her window, Scully
looked out and saw him, parked under the street light, head down, like a
beaten puppy. She watched him for a moment, his obvious distress tugging at
the strings of her heart. Just as she was about to get up and return to him,
he started the car and drove away. She watched him go, feeling the ache of
her own heart.

The End
 

------------------------------
Patriots Game

By Ginef
ginef@aol.com
 

I received a surprising number of requests for a sequel to
my last little piece of mind candy, "Clear and Present
Danger." Plus Mulder and Scully were really pissed that I
left the whole situation so unresolved, so being a slave to
public pressure and imaginary FBI agents with guns, here it
is. You don't really need to read the first one, but it
would do my heart good if you did. It's on the gossamer, or
I'd be happy to send you a copy. I wrote the first one after
a horrid day at work and this one to cheer myself up because
my dog was in hospital (she's home now, btw). I'm starting
to see an alarming  pattern here <g>. Please excuse any
typos...
It is okay to post this to the newsgroup, in fact I'd
appreciate it because I'm too technically challenged to do
it myself.

DANGER! WILL ROBINSON! DANGER! The following is a
RELATIONSHIP story (although I feel I must state my position
on the whole relationship thing. I don't want to see them
end up together until the end of the show, but believe they
are in love.). No sex. No X-File. No rhyme. No reason. Just
for fun.  It also contains minor third season spoilers.

DISCLAIMER: The legal stuff.... I have shamelessly stolen
the characters and situations of the television program "The
X-Files" for my own perverse pleasure. They are the creation
and property of the almighty Chris Carter,  Fox Broadcasting
and 1013 Productions. I have used them without permission.
No copyright infringement is intended.

THANKS: Thanks to everyone who has encouraged my deviant
behaviour (and you know who you are). A whopping thanks to
the ever-hilarious Kathleen Lietz for allowing me to borrow
Mulder's eighty-five year old broom wielding neighbour.  And
no thank you would be complete without a nod to Darin Morgan
(may I someday write something, anything, as inspired as the
chat on the rock) and Chris Carter.

SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully find themselves in yet another
embarrassing situation. This time at a football game.

~~~

Patriots Game
by ginef@aol.com

        Fox Mulder, or Michael Jordan as he was known in his
own mind, was down by two in the dying seconds of the fourth
period. He leapt, going for the three pointer against all
odds ... the ball bounced soundly off the wall and rebounded
into the basket/trash can. "He shoots, he scores!!!" Mulder
was in the midst of his celebratory dance when he was
interrupted by yet another death threat from the eighty-five
year old woman who lived beneath him. "I want you dead, 42.
Dead. You hear me?" she screamed, punctuating her words with
the end of a broom on the ceiling.
        "Get in line," Mulder yelled back, grabbing the ball
and bouncing it on the floor again for good measure. He
slumped down on his couch, grabbed the TV remote and settled
in for a good pout. He had a right, a reason to be in bad
humor, he thought as he stole another glance at his phone,
which seemed to be mocking him with its silence. Maybe if he
could just pull a little ObiWan and plant the suggestion in
her mind. "You will call your partner." To which she'd
reply, "I will call my partner." Earth to Mulder, why should
she call you, he chided himself.  Maybe he should just go
over there. No. Too presumptuous. That would be assuming
that she wanted to see him. And you know what they say about
assuming. Besides,  going over there unannounced was what
had started this whole mess. And after last weekend's
performance he figured she might never want to see him
socially again anyway. Of course, he reflected, I wasn't the
only one groping like a depraved teenager in that darkened
theatre. The remembrance of Scully's velvety lips exploring
his neck, her breath hot on his ear was almost enough to
send him running for a cold shower. Again. He was so
distracted that he barely heard the phone when it finally
did ring and fumbled to grab it on the fourth go round.
"Hello?"
        "Mulder. It's Frohike."
        "Oh, hi," Mulder replied, hoping he wasn't betraying
his disappointment.
        "I told you she was hot."
        "Huh?"
        "Quite a show you and Agent Scully put on last week.
Almost more entertaining than the movie."
        Mulder closed his eyes and ran his hand over his
face. "We hoped no one was paying attention."
"Someone's always paying attention, Mulder."
        "You didn't videotape it, did you? We're not going
to turn up on your webpage or anything?"
        "That depends."
        "On what?"
        "Whether you treat her right." Mulder was surprised
to hear a trace of a threat in Frohike's voice.
        "Oh?" he asked.
        "We know you dropped her off and didn't walk her to
her door."
        "You actually followed us?"
        "Would you expect anything less?"
        "I guess not."
        "How'd it go this week?"
"Fine. She's barely talking to me, but fine."
"Have you sent her flowers? Called to ask her out again?"
"No--"
        "Mulder! You have to send flowers. You have to call.
Girls dig that."
        "Frohike, if you're such an expert on women how come
you're the only person I know who has a video collection
that rivals mine?"
        "By choice."
        "Yeah, right."
        "Okay, so, here's what you're going to do. I have
two tickets to the game today."
        "The Redskins/Patriots?" he asked, shocked. Those
were almost impossible to come by.
        "What else? Go to your door and open it now."
Mulder did as he was told and found Langly on his
doorstep. He handed Mulder two tickets, smiled and hurried
away. Frohike's voice continued. "You are going to call
Agent Scully and ask her to attend with you."
"Since when do you guys operate a dating service?" "Since
you started to toy with Agent Scully."
        "I'm not toying--"
        "Good, so your intentions toward her are honorable,"
Frohike interrupted.  "Be sure to dress warmly," he finished
and hung up before Mulder had a chance to reply.
       Mulder looked at the phone in one hand, tickets in
the other and smiled. Now I have a reason to call, he
thought as he punched in the familiar number. His grin
turned to a frown when he got the machine. He tapped his
foot nervously as he waited impatiently for the beep. "Hi,
it's me," he started and then totally lost his nerve. He was
silent for a full ten seconds before he bumbled on, "uh...
Scul-- Wendy. It's Mike. I know you told me not to call, but
I managed to acquire a couple of tickets, good ones, to the
football game today and thought you might want to go. I
promise to behave. Call me." He hung up the phone and
instantly considered rushing to her apartment to destroy the
tape before she heard it.  Dammit, Mulder. Really smooth
maneuver.
        Scully stared at her machine in horror as it
recorded its latest message.  She couldn't bear to make eye
contact with her mother, who was sitting across the table
from her sipping her coffee. She knew she was blushing down
to the roots of her hair. Cursed Irish heritage. "Dana, I
didn't know you were seeing anyone."
"I'm not," Scully replied a little too quickly.
        "That sounded a lot like Fox--"
        "Mulder, mom, Mulder. And no, it wasn't him,"
Scully cut her off. Before she had a chance to divert the
conversation the phone rang again.
        The machine picked it up on the first ring and
Mulder's voice filled the room again before she could shut
it off. "Uh, Scully. It's me. Where are you?  Nevermind.
Look...about that last message. I'm sorry. I thought about
coming over and destroying the tape. You know, like George
and Jerry tried to do that time? Remember when we watched
that? I think we were in Milwaukee.
Anyway, it made me think my life was becoming like an
episode of Seinfeld. And I'm George."
       Scully's face was beet red as she felt her mom's eyes
boring into her, but she couldn't suppress a little smile as
his voice droned on and on and on,  drawing alarmingly
accurate parallels between his life and that of George
Kastanza. This was even more pathetic than his pegleg
theory. "So, about the football game. I'll understand if you
don't want to go. But I really want you to go. I won't touch
you again, I promise. Not that I don't want to. I do. But I
won't if you don't want me to," he stopped for moment then
mumbled, "even though I really want to." There was a long
pause. "Just call me, Scully." Followed by a another long
pause before he finally disconnected.
        The silence hung uncomfortably in the air for a full
minute before Scully could bring herself to look into her
mother's amused eyes. Just as she was about to offer some
sort of an explanation the phone rang and Mulder's voice
appeared on the answering machine yet again. "I'm coming
over to destroy that tape," was all he said.
        "Well, Dana," her mother said, getting up. "I think
I better make myself scarce."
        "Mom--"
         "--be sure to dress warmly for the game--"
        "--I'm not going--"
        Her mother laid a hand gently on her arm, a knowing
smile on her lips. "Of course you're going."
        "Mom--"
        "Dana, stop. You go to the game with him," her
mother flashed her a mischevous grin. "And have fun," she
added as she put on her coat and headed for the door. "Oh,
and don't do anything I wouldn't do."
        "Mom! You've had four kids. What exactly does that
leave out? "
        "For a doctor, Dana, you're a bit slow," her mother
laughed. "Oh, and be sure to take a thermos of hot chocolate
and peppermint schnapps. It always worked for me." With that
she slipped out of the apartment.
        Scully ran to window and watched her mom get in her
car and drive off. She couldn't believe she was really
leaving her here to face Mulder alone.
          For his part, Mulder was racing across town,
hoping against hope that Scully was out with her mother
somewhere far, far away. And that he could get in and out of
her apartment with that tape. How could he have been so
stupid? How could he be so smitten? How could he stop
thoughts of Scully from consuming him? He was so distracted
he almost missed the turn off to  Scully's apartment. He
swerved into the right lane, cutting off a cerelliun blue
Toyota and earning a flurry of honking horns and obscene
gestures for his effort. He squealed to a stop in front of
her apartment and sprinted up the stairs to her door,
hesitating for only a moment before using his key to let
himself in. He practically leapt on the answering machine,
yanking it open to extract the evidence. It was empty. He
felt a slow knot of dread start in his stomach and travel
upward as he considered the implication. He whirled around
to find Scully sitting on the couch waving the tape in front
of her. "Looking for this, George?" she asked with a hint of
a smile.
        Mulder wished the floor would open up and swallow
him whole. He waited a full ten seconds to make sure his
wish wouldn't come true. When it didn't, he said, "I didn't
know you were home."
        "Apparently," Scully replied, getting to her feet
and walking towards him,  placing the tape firmly in his
hand. "I'm giving you this against my better judgment." She
looked him up and down, taking in his tattered sweats and
wild hair. He wasn't even wearing socks. "You're going to
freeze."
        "Huh?" Mulder mumbled lamely and then smiled. "Does
that mean you'll go?"
        "You agree not to call me Wendy?"
        Mulder nodded earnestly.
         "You agree to keep your hands to yourself?"
        Mulder nodded again.
        "You remember that I'm packing a gun?"
        He nodded a third time, unable to keep the smile off
his face.
        Scully returned his grin. "How could I refuse George
Kastanza? You know I love short, stocky, balding types like
you," she replied, pulling her parka on over her thick wool
sweater.
"Okay, Elaine, let's go. I have to change."
        "And we have to stop at the store for the
ingredients for a Scully Family Football Tradition."
        "Oh, I like the sound of that..." he said as he shut
the door behind them.
        Three hours later, Mulder and Scully found
themselves in the stands at RFK stadium, huddled under a
blanket as the Patriots and Redskins took to the field for
the second half. The hot chocolate and peppermint schnapps
were long gone and they were halfway into the mickey of
Jaggermeister that Mulder had smuggled in, claiming it was a
Lone Gun Man family tradition.
        "Good thing I still had QueeQuag's blanket in the
car," Scully commented through chattering teeth.
        "Yeah, too bad it still smells like him."
        "My dog DID NOT stink!" Scully replied.
        "Sure. Fine. Whatever you say, Scul, uh, Elaine,"
Mulder laughed.
        "Stop calling me Elaine!" she said, snuggling into
him for warmth and staying because it felt good. No
complaints here, he thought, as he slipped his arm around
the small of her back.
        "You know," Mulder started. "I have a theory that
George and Elaine are in love and are just denying it."
        "Mulder, you're nuts!"
        "No seriously."
        "They're just friends."
        "You can cut the unresolved sexual tension with a
knife."
        "If they got together it would ruin the show."
        "Two people caring about each other would ruin the
show?"
        "I'm reeling, Mulder. I never would have thought of
you as a *romantic*."
        "Hey, I just call them as I see them," he shrugged.
"Besides, I wouldn't want them together until the end of the
show anyway."
        Scully drew in her eyebrows and pursed her lips.
"Don't you think men and women can just be friends without
any element of romance. I mean look at us--" she stopped
short.
        "Well, that does seem to be a point of contention,
doesn't it?"
         "No. No, it isn't," she replied, with more
conviction than she felt.
        "Whatever," he said under his breath and took a nip
off the bottle.
        They sat in brooding silence a moment, each
pretending to watch the game,  before Scully decided to
lighten the mood. "You know, Mulder, it's a myth that
alcohol makes us warmer in the cold. In fact, just the
opposite is true.  It in essence breaks down our resistance
to the inclement weather."
        "Is that so, Dr. Scully?" Mulder questioned, taking
a hearty swig of the Jagger.
        "That's so," she replied and grinned. She wouldn't
say she was officially drunk, maybe just unofficially. "You
gonna share that, cowboy?"
        "Cowboy, huh? That would seem to denote you have
some romantic, glamorized perception of me. Like say maybe
Brad Pitt in Legends of the Fallguy."
        Scully's short burst of laughter came out more like
a snort. "No, actually,  I thinking more like a smelly guy
on a horse." She made a grab for the bottle, but Mulder kept
it over his head, just out of reach.
        "I'm hurt," Mulder said with mock seriousness.
        "You're going to be if you don't give me that
bottle," she shot back, making
a final grab for it.
        "I'll trade you the bottle for a kiss," he whispered
in her ear.
        "You promised to keep your hands to yourself,
remember?" She closed her eyes and leaned in closer to him.
"But I never said anything about my lips," he said
softly, brushing his mouth gently along her jawline.
        She swallowed hard and struggled to clear the fog
clouding her brain. "Good point," she breathed, conceding a
battle she'd known was lost four years ago,  in a tiny
basement office the first time she'd heard him call her
Scully.
        Mulder's lips were inching their way toward hers and
she found herself drawn in against her better judgment. One
little kiss won't hurt, she and her buddy Jaggermeister
assured her. She turned until she was facing him head on.
His lips brushed past hers and she felt her last bit of
resistance crumbled like the Berlin Wall as she pulled the
blanket up and over their heads, even as she pulled him into
a kiss.
        Some time later Mulder popped his head up from under
the blanket and was soon followed by Scully. They were
silent for a moment as they surveyed the now empty stadium.
"Where'd everybody go?" Mulder asked lamely.
        "Uh... perhaps home," Scully replied, letting her
head sink into her hands as Mulder burst into laughter. "Who
won?" Mulder asked and paused. "I mean besides us." Scully
punched his arm. "Dammit, Mulder. We did it
again."
        Mulder laughed even harder. "We haven't *done* it at
all, but if I can talk you into coming home with me..."
        He stopped himself short on her no-nonsense look.
She broke eye contact with him and looked out over the
deserted field. "We're in really big trouble,  Mulder.
Really big," she slumped against him.
        Mulder joined her in studying the now empty stadium,
his earlier jubilation replaced with the crushing weight of
reality. "I know," he said, wrapping his arm around her
shoulder. "I know."

-- The End --