By Alelou
Alelou123@aol.com
 

Rating: PG-13
Category: H, MSR
Spoilers: Very minor allusions to FTF, Quagmire
Keywords: MSR, Humor
Summary: Something about Las Vegas causes Mulder to
make an interesting proposal.
Disclaimer:  Chris Carter's and 1013's, not mine.
Archive:  Well, sure!
Additional Notes:  Just a little ditty that's been
sitting on my hard drive since the official magazine
poll about our duo's future got me thinking.  Many
thanks to MystPhile for her always insightful beta.
 

LEAVING LAS VEGAS

Ultimately, it happened because they were in Las Vegas, and
they had nothing to do.

Special Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully had quickly
determined that the strange deaths of five chorus girls were
not in fact related to the vengeful spirit of a former
colleague, as originally theorized by a local psychic.
They were, rather, the work of a local beat cop who'd
escalated from harassment to murder.  It required only some
asking around, one gruesome autopsy from Scully, a fast
profile from Mulder, and the police made the arrest and took
their reports before lunchtime of their third day in the
city.  They finished their own paperwork in record time,
helped by the fact that no shooting had occurred, Mulder had
managed to avoid any injury whatsoever, and not even a
flashlight had been lost or damaged.

So now it was Friday night and they both felt at loose ends.

"So, Scully," Mulder said, driving away from the police
station in their rental sedan.  "What do you say we eat a
nice dinner, catch a show, get married or something?"

"Dinner sounds good."

"No show?"

"I think I'd rather catch up on some sleep."

"No getting married, either, then."

There was a brief pause.  "No, not in Las Vegas, thank you."

"Ah."  Mulder drove on, but there was the hint of a smile on
his face.  "Where, then?"

Scully wrinkled her brow.  Mulder's occasional little jokes
on this subject had never been this persistent before.  She
was sure she knew how to put a quick stop to it, though.
"I'm sorry -- is this a proposal?"

He cleared his throat.  "No, not exactly."

She considered asking him what it was exactly, but then
decided that she really didn't want to know.  "Then wouldn't
our time be better spent discussing where to eat dinner?"

"Scully, where do you want to eat dinner?"

"Some place that doesn't serve breakfast 24 hours."

"Shouldn't be too hard to handle that one," Mulder said
smoothly, turning in to the first steak house they
encountered.

xxx

They sat down and ordered.

"Where, then?" he asked.

"Where what?"

"Where do you want to get married?"

She looked at him, nonplussed.  "Married to whom?  To you?"

He squirmed.  "To anybody."

She smiled thinly.  "Oh -- so, hypothetically."

"Yeah, hypothetically."

"Hypothetically, then, I guess I'd say in church."

"Oh."  Yes, that definitely took some of the animation out of
him.

"Where would you want to get married, Mulder?
Hypothetically, of course."

"I guess I'd leave that up to my hypothetical bride."

"That's very good of you."

"Yeah.  Well, you know me.  I'm always very good to
hypothetical people."

She smirked.  Their food arrived, and they ate quietly for
awhile.  Well, she ate.  He inhaled.

Then, to her surprise, he started up again.  "So you want the
whole deal, then, Scully?  Big white dress, tuxes,
bridesmaids, huge engagement ring, gala reception?"

"No, just the church.  Friends and family.  A honeymoon
someplace warm."

"Then what?"

"What do you mean, then what?'

"House in the burbs, picket fence..."  His voice faltered.

"Two-point-five children?  Not gonna happen, Mulder."  He
looked stricken.  Crap.  She was in no mood to deal with his
ever-ready guilt.  "It's okay.  As far as I'm concerned, I'm
extremely lucky to be alive at all."

Irritatingly, he still looked morose.  "What a catastrophe
the X Files have been for you."

She sighed.  "You know, Mulder, you haven't exactly had a
walk in the park yourself."

"You should have gotten the hell away from it after the first
month.  After that first case in Oregon, Scully."

"Too bad, signed on for the whole cruise."

"Loyal to Captain Ahab and his megalomaniacal view of the
universe to the bitter end?'

She was feeling magnanimous.  "Wouldn't have it any other
way."

He acknowledged her with a little smile and went back to what
little was left of his meal.  Scully accepted this his full
reaction and renewed her concentration on her steak fries.
But, eventually, he raised his head again.  "So, DO you want to get married,
Scully?"

She nearly choked on a chunk of steak fry.  When she finally
stopped coughing, she looked at him as if he'd grown two
heads.  He looked back at her like a deer caught in the
headlights of an oncoming semi-tractor trailer.

This couldn't be what it sounded like.  "Are you asking ME if I want to marry
YOU?"

The deer look vanished, replaced by something darker.  "If I
am, I guess I'm not doing a very good job of it."

Scully smiled kindly.  "I'd say that 'if' pretty much gives
you more wiggle room than I'm willing to accept from a man
who appears to be proposing marriage to me before we've even
gone on a date."

"A date?"

"Yeah.  A date.  You go out, you get to know each other..."

He looked aghast.  "Geez, Scully, don't you think we've got
that last part nailed yet?"

"Well, if I were being asked to marry you in your official
capacity as a special agent of the FBI, then yes, we've got
that part nailed.  But usually people who get married hope to
have a little bit more going for them."

Now he was staring at her, obviously trying to figure out
what on earth she could be talking about.  "Ah, " he said,
finally.  "You want to find out whether I can show you a good
time."

"Among other things."

Mulder looked suspicious.  "You're going to want to really
talk and stuff, aren't you."

"I've heard rumors that married people need to do that from
time to time, yes."

He looked deeply pained.

She took pity on him.  "Mulder, it's this odd Las Vegas
atmosphere.  Don't worry about it.  Let's just go back to the
hotel and forget about this conversation."

"No, Scully, if we have to date, we have to date.  So, Dana --"
he pronounced her name carefully, as if assuming this was
also part of some secret requirement -- "Would you care to go
on a date with me tonight?"

She was impressed with his fortitude.  "Sure."

"Even though it's against Bureau policy?"

"After I've waited this long?"

He smiled shyly.  "How long have you waited, Scully?"

"YEARS, Mulder."

"How many?"

"All of them."

He smiled ear to ear this time.

xxx

They were driving down the same street for the second time,
Mulder looking increasingly uncomfortable, when he abruptly
pulled over and turned to her.  "Look, Scully, um, Dana..."

"What's wrong?  And you don't have to call me Dana."

"Scully, I haven't been on a first date in a really long
time."

She smiled gently.  "I'll take a rain check if you'd like a
little more time to think about it."

"NO!" he said, too loudly, then toned it down.  "No, that's
not what I want.  It's just -- I've never been on a first
date with a woman I've worked side by side with for so many
years.  We already had dinner.  A movie just doesn't seem
adequate.  And you already said you didn't feel like a show."

"We could get some coffee and dessert somewhere," she
suggested.

He looked unimpressed.

"It doesn't have to be anything special, Mulder.  Just you
and me, together for the sole purpose of having some time
together, no work involved."

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to skip all that and just go
get married?"

"Are you afraid we'll have nothing to talk about?"

"No," he said, too quickly.

"I'll ask all the questions if you want."

Now he looked really scared.  He swallowed and looked out the
car's front window.  "How about a drink, Scully?  You want to
go get a drink?"

"Sounds like a plan."

Instead of one of the hotels or casinos, he took her to a
lowslung place called the Blue Slipper Tavern near the
outskirts of town, steering her quickly to a booth in dark
corner.

"I wonder why they didn't name it the Cowboy Boot Tavern,"
Scully said, looking around in vain for any blue slippers.

He smiled without mirth and ordered a shot of tequila.  She
ordered a Corona Lite with a twist of lime and planned to
nurse it slowly.  She had no idea what had gotten into Mulder
tonight.  But if he was going to freak, she would be calm,
and if he was going to do some serious drinking, then she was
driving them back to the hotel, little feet or no.

To his obvious surprise, she asked him something about the
Knicks, and conversed easily about the NBA playoffs for a
full ten minutes.  He slowly relaxed.

"See, this isn't so bad, is it?"

He smiled.  "No, it's really nice."

There was a lull -- a comfortable lull.   She broke it.  "So,
Mulder.  Where's this marriage thing coming from, anyway?"

He nearly spit tequila at her.

"Geez, Scully," he complained.

"I really don't think I should even consider marrying you if
you can't answer that question," she said.

"Maybe we should just forget I said anything."

Even though it was what she fully expected, she felt a knife-
twist of hurt which she quickly stamped and kicked into total
oblivion with practiced skill.  "Whatever you say," she said,
leaning back.  Mulder was Mulder was Mulder and thus it would
ever be.  And she was Scully and by God she'd be cool with
that.  She drank her beer.  She just wished she hadn't
brought the whole subject up again.

He was studying her miserably.  Finally, he said, "Well, for
God's sake, isn't it obvious?"

"Isn't what obvious?"

He stared at her, jaw working on sentences that somehow
couldn't make it out of his mouth.  He ordered another shot,
apparently unable to explain himself.  She sipped her beer
and turned halfway in her seat to watch the other patrons.
None of this is real, she thought to herself.  Something to
do with being in Las Vegas, that's all.  Their own little
X-File.

"Because I love you."

She turned back to him.  "What?"

"You heard me," he growled -- like a wild animal that had
been backed into a corner and didn't like it one bit.

"You love me?"

He nodded.

My God, he'd actually said it, she thought, amazed.  No drugs
-- two shots didn't count, did it?  No, not really.  She felt
a huge smile breaking out despite her best efforts.  "I love
you too, Mulder."

His eyes closed in obvious relief for a long moment, but then
he suddenly looked nervous again.  "I don't mean just
supportive partnerly love, Scully.  I mean I REALLY love you.
As in I'm IN love with you."

So she couldn't help getting a little weepy over that one and
she ended up sitting in his lap kissing him.  No bees buzzed,
no assassins took aim, and they didn't even notice their
audience of bemused waitresses and passers-by.

Later, he hooked hands with her over the table and smiled
back at her for what seemed like forever.  He asked, "So now
what?"

"I guess we figure out where we go from here."

"Oh," he seemed a little disappointed.

She cocked her head at him.  "You were hoping to go back to
the hotel and have wild passionate sex, weren't you?"

"We could stop somewhere and get married first."

"You know, this is still a first date, Mulder," she reminded
him.

"Whatever you say, Scully," he agreed, obviously willing to
be patient.

"Maybe we should be getting back, though.  Early flight."

He looked at her askance.  Their flight actually wasn't until
10:30.  Then he smiled.

xxx

They were staying in their usual low-cost strip motel and
didn't even have adjoining rooms this time.  So he
accompanied her to her door and prayed to a God he didn't
believe in to please, please, please let Scully kiss him.

"See any bees?" he asked, just in case she'd forgotten.

"You ARE coming in, aren't you?" she asked.

"Really?" he asked breathlessly.

She gave him her don't-be-an-idiot-Mulder look and held the
door open for him.

"Ugh, it's hot in here," she said, and went to turn the air
conditioning up.

"Yes, it is," he said, leering as obviously as possible.

She cocked her eyebrow at him, then sauntered back to him.
"So, you really, truly love me?"

He nodded, suddenly speechless because he was seeing Scully
looking at him in a way he'd never really and truly believed
he'd ever see.

She reached up and pulled him down to her for a kiss that
quickly deepened.  He pulled back at last, needing to breathe
and feeling that he shouldn't push his luck -- though he
wasn't letting go of his grip on her arms.  "God, Scully," he
breathed, leaning his forehead on hers.

"Don't stop now, G-Man," she murmured back.

"Really?"

"Mulder, after this long, you think I'd want to wait for this
any more than you would?"

"Well, you really seemed to be into that first date thing."

"Just keeping you honest, partner."

"Speaking of which, you're sure you don't want to go get
married first?"

"I'm sure I don't want to get married in some sleazy Las
Vegas chapel in the middle of the night, yes.  Why are you so
into that, anyway?"

"Well, you're so Catholic..."

"I hope you don't think I'm a virgin, Mulder."

"No," he said, a little too quickly, then coughed nervously.
"So, Scully, will you still love me in the morning even if
I'm a rotten lover?"

"Are you a rotten lover, Mulder?"

"My previous reviews are not bad, but, frankly, it's been a
long time."

"Well, in case you're worried, I'd say my expectations about
this first time have been sufficiently lowered.  Can we
proceed?"

"But seriously, Scully..."

All that porn, she thought.  Perhaps he had also read that
certain solitary practices could lead to a little problem
with premature ejaculation.   "Mulder." She started
unbuttoning his shirt.  "Practice makes perfect, you know."

He looked relieved.  "Glad to hear it.  I promise, Scully,
you'll never find a more attentive pupil."  He pulled off his
t-shirt.

"I knew you'd be good for something besides racking up
frequent flyer miles someday," she murmured, dipping her head
to lick one of his cute little nipples.

He gasped.  "I fully intend to marry you, you know," he
added.

"Mulder, as far as I'm concerned, we already are married,"
she said, moving back and dropping her jacket on the floor.
"And I think it's about time you fulfilled your husbandly
duties."  She kicked off her shoes.  "Let's consummate this
thing, already."  She dropped her skirt and went to work on
her panty hose.

"Don't be shy now, Scully," he said, surprised and pleased by
her directness.  He watched appreciatively as she blushed and
he got to see just how far down her beautiful chest it
spread.

"Am I coming on too strong?"

"Please don't even think of stopping."

She smiled and went over to kiss him, and that was the end of
coherent discussion for awhile.

xxx

In the airplane the next day, he leaned over and whispered in
her ear.  "If we got off the plane right now, we could still
go get married."

"I told you, we are married," she whispered back.

"Just how married?"

"As married as you like."

"Do I get to come over and sleep in your bed and squeeze your
toothpaste in the middle and leave the toilet seat up in the
middle of the night?"

"As long as you agree to kill all the spiders, take out the
garbage, and get the oil changed in my car."

"It's a deal."

"Then I formally pronounce us husband and wife.  You may kiss
the bride."

And that's how Fox Mulder, against all probabilities, managed
to find himself leaving Las Vegas a happily if not quite
officially married man.

THE END

Feedback gratefully accepted at alelou123@aol.com.