From xangst@frii.com Wed Jun 26 05:37 EST 1996 Received: from phobos.frii.com by everest.eng.ohio-state.edu (8.6.12/3.910501) id FAA01117; Wed, 26 Jun 1996 05:37:49 GMT Received: from [204.144.242.179] (ftc-57.ppp.frii.com [204.144.242.167]) by phobos.frii.com (8.6.12/8.6.9) with SMTP id XAA12475 for ; Tue, 25 Jun 1996 23:35:43 -0600 Date: Tue, 25 Jun 1996 23:35:43 -0600 X-Sender: xangst@mail.frii.com Message-Id: Mime-Version: 1.0 To: juodvalk From: xangst@frii.com (Myth Patrol) Subject: THE CUP by Lisdean Warner Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Content-Length: 31793 Status: RO Could you please change my addy--*again*--to xangst@frii.com. Thanks --Dean *********************************** The Cup--A Romance in Three Periods by Dean Warner xangst@frii.com This series of stories was inspired by the 1996 Stanley Cup playoffs, in which Colorado finally won its first professional sports championship. A general disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to Chris Carter, 1013 productions, and Fox Broadcasting. They are used here without permission or thought of infringement. A personal disclaimer: Sal and Brian are all mine. If you don't know who they are, read Lincoln in the Snow, the Dream, and Lost Friends--or you could just read them anyway, for the fun of it . ******************** First Period: Aliens Thursday Scully walked into the office, feeling equally as tired and hung over as she looked. Mulder, as always, took every pain to notice. "Rough night, huh?" She didn't even bother to glare at him as she grabbed some coffee. "New boyfriend?" Mulder persisted. "Yeah," she replied angrily. "Eddie Jovanofsky. One *hell* of a disappointment." Mulder looked at her quizzically for a moment. "So why do you look so wiped out?" She sat down heavily. "I had to drown my sorrows, didn't I?" He had never heard her talk like this, was shocked by it. He was about to ask her what was wrong, when her phone rang loudly. With a little wince for her headache, Scully answered it. "Scully." Mulder listened to her for a few moments, astounded by his partner's demeanour. "Hey, Sal... Yeah, shut up... What the hell was he thinking? ...And what was up with Roy?" --this last sounded like "wah" to Mulder-- "What the hell is he? Plastic Man? ... God, that man's hands were *everywhere* last night! ... Oh, you *would*!" She listened to her friend and sighed deeply, oblivious to her shocked partner. "God, I don't know if I can handle that again, Sal... Yeah, right... It'll never happen... I don't care what the hell the percentages say! ...The day you win this one is the day-- Uh huh... Okay, fine. I'll be there... Okay, bye." She slumped back as she hung up the phone, and only then noticed Mulder's slack-jawed stare. "What?" she demanded irritably. "Are you okay?" he asked seriously. Scully stared at him for a moment, puzzled by his concern. "I'm fine, why?" Mulder shrugged, still worried. "I've never seen you act like this." She suddenly realised that her partner had not the foggiest idea what she had been talking about. "Mulder," she said, much the way a teacher would explain to a particularly dense student. "It's the Stanley Cup." Mulder sat back sheepishly. His voice was quiet, almost embarassed. "Oh." She looked at him for a moment, a smile playing across her lips, in spite of her splitting headache. "Do you even know who's playing, Mulder?" He ducked his head. "I don't really follow hockey." Her smile broke out in a full-fledged grin. "How could you grow up in New England and not follow hockey?" He shrugged. "Basketball was always my sport." "Uh huh," she mummured. Friday Mulder watched his partner clear off her desk, preparing to finally go home for the weekend. She headed to the coat rack, grabbing the light coat she'd put on this morning to fight off the chill of an early June dawn in D.C. "Night Mulder. Have a good weekend." "Night, Scully," he replied. "Is there another game tonight?" She smiled, his embarassment of the previous day remembered with mirth. "No. Game three is tomorrow night." She turned to him suddenly. "You know, Sal's having a party, if you want to come." She rolled her eyes. "She'd love to have another witness there so she can gloat." He seemed to consider it. "Gloat about what?" "Her 'Avalanche' are already two up on the Panthers," Scully replied, slurring the opposing team's name into the most unspeakable epithet. "She'll be insufferable if they win in Florida." Mulder shook his head. "I think I'll leave the hockey to those who know more about it," he declined politely. "Come on, Mulder," Scully cajoled gently. "Sal and I will be happy to teach you more about it." He shrugged noncommitally. "Who's going to be there?" "A bunch of people," she replied vaguely. "Brian will be there--but, I warn you, he's an AV's fan, too." "I'll think about it," he promised, rising to grab his own coat, following her out. "I'll see you later." Saturday Scully had really thought Mulder wouldn't come. He wasn't a hockey fan--nor a fan of too many people. She was sure he'd stay home, watching TV in his dark little apartment. She was surprised, then, to answer the door at Sal's house and see him standing before her, in a casual blazer and jeans. "Hey, Mulder," she greeted him with a smile. Sal looked up from the chips and dip she'd been placing on a large table behind the couch, and strode over to give him a hug. "Hey, Fox," she said, a sly glance to her red-haired friend telling Mulder that his "hockey virginity" had already been discussed. "Glad you could come." He sat down quietly, a beer magically appearing in his hand as Sal breezed past him, playing hostess. He looked over the crowd that had gathered. Mostly women, though there were a few other men--Brian Callahan prominent among them, decked out in a jersey and baseball cap that marked him as an Avalanche fan. The logo on the front of his jersey was a bright red "A" with what was apparently meant to look like a plume of ice, or a wave of snow, splashed across it. The back of the jersey proclaimed that he was, in fact, a player named Sakic. Mulder puzzled over how to pronounce that name for a moment, before his eyes started roaming again. They settled on Scully, who wore a comfortable black silk tank top above tight black jeans. She looked good--and more comfortable than he had seen her in a long time. Maybe, he thought, taking a pull on the beer before him, this might be a fun night after all. The beer was surprisingly thick, and Mulder looked at the label with interest. The bottle was adorned with a logo which sported an unlikely picture of King Tut holding a mug of beer, proclaiming that the brew was called "Tut Brown Ale". The brand name was "Oasis", and the brewery was located in Boulder, Colorado. Apparently, Sal took her fandom very seriously, going so far as to serve beer brewed in the Avalanche's home state. He looked to the screen, where the national anthem had just finished up, and they were preparing for the starting face-off. He took another pull of the thick ale in his hand and stared strangely at the screen. "Why is the puck glowing?" he wanted to know. Sal smiled big. "Trust me, Fox. You'll need it later." The game was a bit of a mystery to Mulder--who had never been able to figure out hockey, anyway. Basketball was a much simpler, much more elegant game. When he focused on the screen, he only saw a bunch of men slamming back and forth between goal nets--taking every chance to slam *each other* into the walls while they were at it. Mostly, he watched the watchers. Scully was thrilled--loudly thrilled--when the Panthers scored the first goal. She stood, screamed as he had only heard old high school buddies screaming when their football team scored, and pointed significantly at Sal, who simply frowned angrily and cursed the Avalanche goalie, who appeared to be the man Scully had called "Wah" on the phone. Mulder smiled at his own obtuseness--Roy, or in French spelling "Roi". The tide seemed to change subtly in the second period, as the Denver team scored, and the Panthers seemed to be having a harder time hitting the Avalanche net. Brian started praising Roy loudly, claiming that he had probably just been getting used to the lower altitude during the first period, to which Scully replied inexplicably--at least to Mulder--that the man had just gotten used to the *higher* altitude in Denver, so what the hell was Bri talking about? Sal seemed to be taken by a player named "Sa-kick", who was obviously the man who's name graced the back of Brian's jersey. The giant was sitting at her feet, and after Sakic scored a goal that tied the game, Sal threw her arms around the blond FBI agent and whispered, just loudly enough for Mulder to hear, "See, I *knew* you could play hockey," and kissed the giant soundly on the cheek. There was also a player named Lemieux, who didn't seem to be liked by either faction. Mulder leaned over to Brian during a commercial break and asked about it. "He's kind of a blow-hard," Brian replied with a shrug. "I'm not sure many people like him anyway--regardless of how great a player he is." Sal overheard them as she came back from grabbing another couple of beers, handing one to Scully and keeping one for herself. "He *is* a great player," she admitted. "But it's not as if we needed him in games one and two." She glared at Scully, who promptly glared back. "I told you, Dana," she said, as if she had indeed told Scully this--a number of times. "We don't need Lemieux to be 'le mieux'." She was obviously a little tipsy, as she leaned down to Mulder, wrapping her arms around Brian's neck as she went. "See," she explained. "'Le mieux' means 'the best' in French. 'Lemieux'--'le mieux'." She laughed a little drunkenly, and placed another kiss on Brian's cheek as she straightened up. Brian shrugged, a bit embarassed by her conduct, and stood carefully. "I'm gonna get something to eat, Sal," he explained, standing. Mulder stood beside him. "Me, too," he said, as if he were a prisonner recieving a last minute reprieve. He followed Brian out into the relative quiet of the kitchen. "Sorry, Spook," Brian said, as he pulled open the refrigerator, completely at ease in Sal's kitchen. "She almost never drinks this much." Mulder shrugged it off, staring at his friend amusedly. "So, when did this develop?" he asked, speaking of Sal's displays of affection. Brian's pale Irish skin turned crimson and he ducked his head. "We've been seeing each other for a while," he replied. "Hockey's just one of the things we have in common." Mulder smiled pleasantly as they made themselves sandwiches. "Well," Sal said at the end of the second period, standing and stretching herself, always with a punishing smirk at her redheaded friend. "Since *we're* winning, I guess I'll go out and have a celebratory cigarette." Brian gave her a slightly disapproving look--which she stuck her tongue out at--and then shrugged, standing to move to the back porch with her. Mulder stood up as well, very much in need of a couple of minutes away from the party himself, and followed them out. "So what do you think, Fox?" Sal asked, lighting her own cigarette and passing her lighter to Brian who, surprisingly, lit up as well. "I still don't get it," Mulder replied. "Hockey just doesn't seem that exciting to me." Sal rolled her eyes. "Well, I guess not everybody can be as evolved as some of us." "Evolved?" Mulder barked amusedly. "You call grown men slamming each other into walls while traveling at twenty miles an hour on ice skates *evolved*?" Brian laughed at that. "It's no less evolved than running after a basketball and throwing it at a net eight feet above the floor." Mulder bristled good-naturedly. "Basketball takes finesse," he defended staunchly. "So does hockey," Sal asserted. Mulder wasn't convinced. The game was over. Everyone else had left. The Avalanche had won, and Scully, who had clearly had *way* too much to drink, rose to go home, an angry frown gracing her flushed face. "Dana, you prepared to lose the bet yet?" Sal asked sweetly, equally as intoxicated as her best friend. "You could just give in now. It's the perfect time," she suggested, gesturing broadly at the living room, where only the two of them and Mulder and Brian stood. Scully's face took on a closed look. "No way, Sal." Sal shrugged. "It's your fault for backing the weaker side," she reasoned, smirking. "*No* *way,*" Scully repeated, grabbing her purse and digging for her keys. Brian glanced sharply at Mulder, who advanced, stilling Scully's questing hand. "Why don't I give you a ride home, Scully?" he asked in a voice that, while gentle, brooked no argument. She looked up at him, seeming suddenly to realise just how drunk she really was, and nodded wisely. She had been quiet for much of the trip, and they were ten blocks from her building when she let out an anguished sigh. "Damnit." "What?" Mulder asked quietly, thinking that perhaps they had somehow left her keys at Sal's. "Why the hell did I have to make that bet with her?" Scully asked, immediately answering her own question. "I mean, I was so sure! No team from Colorado *ever* wins the championship! It just *never* *happens*!" "A real X-File, huh?" Mulder asked with a smile. He realised suddenly that she was right. The Nuggets, the Rockies, the Broncos. No matter how well they might do in the regular season, all of them seemed to fold in the playoffs. The Broncos' four-time loss record in the Super Bowl was proof. "Yeah," she agreed suddenly. "An X-File..." She pondered the idea drunkenly for a couple of minutes, and, as he pulled up to her building, she giggled. "What?" "Oh, you'll love this, Mulder," she assured him as she dragged herself out of the car, not at all surprised, even in her drunken state, that Mulder was getting out of his side of the car to escort her to her apartment. "You'll love this," she repeated. "I know why the Avalanche is winning when no other Colorado team could." "Why?" Mulder asked, subtly guiding her up the stairs to her door. She giggled again, and Mulder smiled in response. Dana Scully, drunk. Now he'd *really* seen it all. "Because," she said, as seriously as she could. "They're *aliens*!" She dissolved into giggles again. "Aliens?" Mulder repeated, taking his own keys from his pocket and using his extra key to open her apartment door. "Yup," she declared. "Aliens... Canadians, Germans, Swedes..." She laughed so hard now, she'd nearly fallen over, and Mulder bemusedly led her to her bedroom, laying her on the bed, fully clothed, and pulling a bedspread over her. "Aliens--every one!" "Definitely an X-File, Scully," he assured her patiently. She looked up at him, seeming suddenly almost sober. "I should *never* have made that bet with Sal, though," she told him seriously. "Should never have made a bet against aliens." She was drifting off now, the alcohol finally taking full control. "What bet, Scully?" Mulder asked, curious despite himself. "Oh, you'll find out," she assured him as her eyes closed, her voice dropping to a mumble. "You'll have to find out..." With an amused shake of his head, Mulder left her to sleep it off, locking the door behind him. "Aliens," he whispered to himself as he started his car, laughing at his partner's drunkeness, at the strange night he'd had, at the whole absurdity of the situation. Well, he'd be able to give her hell about this one forever, he was sure. As he drove off, he thought again about the bet, wondering what it could be. "You'll find out," she'd said. "You'll have to find out." Curiouser and curiouser... ******** BREAK (until Game Four ) Sorry out there to anyone who likes Claude Lemieux. Sorry to any of the Panthers' fans who might be lurking. But most of all, a heartfelt *thanks* to the Quebequois for giving us the Nordiques. Colorado, and all her fans, dearly appreciate it. GO AVS!!!! ************************ Second Period: The Sweep > Okay, as promised, game four is done, and Dean comes out with her sequel to Aliens. It is now 11:21 (*almost* spooky ) my time, and The Avalanche is currently kissing their new, shiny, Stanley Cup. Joe Sakic (*my* fav, as well as Bri's ) has the MVP for this year's championships, and I am really tired--BUT I just *had* to write this tonight, while I was still feeling *too* good ! > ************* June 11, 1996 8:30 am Scully dragged into the office, her fatigue and her irritation radiating from her. Mulder looked up with a sympathetic grin. At least today, she wasn't hung over. "Hey, Scully. Sorry to hear about last night." She just looked at him strangely and sighed. "At least the Panthers played well--great, in fact." She sighed again, headed for the coffeemaker. "I just wish they'd taken a little less time to do it." Mulder nodded. Though he hadn't watched the game, he'd seen a lot of bleary-eyed agents this morning--it must have been a killer. "When did it end?" "At a glorious one-fifteen in the morning," came a cheery voice from the door. Mulder turned to see Brian Callahan dwarfing the doorway. Instead of looking like he'd been up all night, Bri looked as if he'd slept like a babe for hours. Of course, he'd finally fallen asleep at four, but the prospect of what would happen today, in the afterglow of the Avalanche's win, made him more wakeful than he might have been otherwise. "And you saw that Sakic got the trophy?" he asked Scully--a little meanly, Mulder thought. "Yeah, MVP," Scully replied flatly. She didn't need his gloating--not with the spectre of her bet hanging over her head. They were going to push it, she thought with a sigh. If Brian was here, Sal couldn't be far behind. As if on cue, the woman in question stepped quietly past Brian, her only overt signs of triumph a small Avalanche pin on her lapel and a mocking smile on her face. "Hey, Dana," she greeted her friend evenly. "Good game last night, huh?" Scully shrugged. Mulder was watching the play going on around him, remembering Scully's drunken words from Saturday night: "You'll find out...You'll have to find out." It looked like he was going to find out now. "I'm sorry it lasted so long, though," Sal continued, with the punishing persistence of a high school cheerleader. "I would have liked to have done this somewhere more... initimate." Her grin was deadly. Puzzled, not a little annoyed at Sal's demeanour, Mulder sat and let his gaze drift from the couple at the door to his clearly angry partner. "It was a stupid bet, Sal," Scully replied coldly. "You couldn't have been serious." Sal crossed her arms meanly. "Oh, couldn't I?" Brian, who was normally against such childishness, nonetheless took Sal's side. "Come on, Dana. You made the bet. It's not like it's going to kill you." Mulder seemed to think it just might. She was about ready to burst a blood vessel. What the hell were they up to? "Come on, Dana," Sal repeated, moving a bit closer to her boyfriend and protector as Scully's eyes blazed. "Fine," Mulder's partner said, striding quickly across the room, dropping her mug on her desk as she went. With a startled noise, Mulder realised that she was making straight for him, an almost vicious gleam in her eye. "Hey, Scully," he protested as she advanced. "I had nothing to--" His protest was broken off as Scully's lips covered his, a deep but harsh kiss taking him completely by surprise. But, to their *mutual* surprise, the kiss deepened suddenly, becoming more passionate than either of them would ever have expected. After a long, flustered moment, Scully straightened up, trying to clear the passionate kiss from her mind as she turned on her 'friends', eyes sparking fiercely. "Satisfied?" she asked brutally. Sal looked at Brian. Brian looked at Sal. They both shook their heads. "You didn't look like you meant it, Dana," Sal protested calmly. "I *really* wanted you to look like you meant it." Scully stared at her--*hard*--and Mulder joined her. It had sure *felt* like she meant it! "Dana..." Sal threatened. "No way!" Scully barked, in a callous voice that pierced Mulder's heart in the aftermath of that confusing kiss. "I've fulfilled the bet." Still, she looked at her partner with an odd glow in her cheeks, and, across the room, Sal saw that her bet had had the desired effect. She smiled to herself. Love was hard--sometimes it just needed a push. "Okay," Sal caved quickly. "I guess you have--though I don't think you'd have let *me* off that easy." As Sal and Brian walked out, pleased smiles plastered on their infuriating faces, Scully's voice dripped venom. "Damn straight." 5:45 pm Scully had been avoiding her partner's eyes all day. That kiss--a simple bet-loser's kiss--had moved something in both of them. It was something they both knew they were afraid of. Something they would never have contemplated.... Something that Scully was apparently damning herself for bringing about. She glanced at the clock, sighed a monumental sigh, and rose to leave for the day. "Get some sleep," Mulder suggested kindly. Scully turned to him for the first time since that fateful kiss. Her eyes had a hard time meeting his, but when they did, he was floored. She was feeling what he was feeling--confusion, fear, a bit of trepidation--but she also *knew* what he *knew*... They really *had* meant it. "Mulder," she said quietly. "I'm really sorry... I should never have made that bet with her..." Her head dropped shamefully. "It was stupid." "Maybe not," Mulder rejoined carefully, watching her freeze for a moment before her eyes came up again to meet his. She smiled tentatively. "Do you think," Mulder asked, rising to walk toward her, grabbing his jacket as he approached, "that the news might have something on those aliens?" She smiled wider--almost coy. "Maybe we'd better find out," she suggested, walking before him, knowing he would follow her. "We might have to open a file on them. I mean, a *Colorado* team winning a pro-sport championship?" Mulder grinned in return, stopping short as she turned to him, kissing him lightly, meaning it just as much as she had that morning--meaning it more. "Definitely an X-File, Scully," he agreed, kissing her soundly in return. "Definitely." ***************** BREAK ******************* Third Period: Icing Scully sighed as she left the building, a little mad still, but strangely, very happy, too. Mulder walked by her side, a bemused grin just shadowing his face. "My car or yours?" Mulder asked. She looked up at him with a coy smile that she hadn't used since high school. For all it was rusty, it must still have looked good, because he blushed in response. "Separate cars, Mulder," she told him, wanting to laugh as his face fell. "You're only coming over to watch the news, remember?" "Sure," he agreed, a little crestfallen. He looked at his watch as he headed for his own car. "Hey, Scully," he called. "Look, we're too late for the early news... How 'bout I pick up a movie on my way home--I mean *over*?" She smiled. This felt so right, all of a sudden. "Sure," she replied breezily, making her way to her own car. *** Scully's smile began falling when she was three blocks from home. What the hell did she think she was doing? This was her *partner*, for God's sake! She slowed down the car, thinking... No, she told herself finally. No. This was just a couple of friends getting together. Okay, so it was a weird reason to get together, but they were still just friends. Sure, *close* friends, but... she told herself sharply. This was all Sal's fault, she griped, as she pulled to the curb in front of her building. If she hadn't made that stupid bet... She climbed the stairs to her apartment, each step bringing a little bit of dread with it. She was sorry now that she'd ever gone through with that damn bet. She could have refused. But she'd been angered by Sal's demeanour, by the way Brian egged her on. She had only meant the kiss to be a peck--something harmless... But it was far from harmless, now. It was downright deadly, the situation she'd gotten herself into. Downright deadly. *** Mulder slowed as he neared Scully's building, the video sitting on the seat next to him, accusing him. What the hell was he doing? This was easily the stupidest thing he'd done in a long, long time. Scully hadn't meant anything by that kiss. It was hardly *delivered* as a lover's kiss. It was a simple peck--a settling up on the damn bet she'd made with Sal. And what the hell kind of a bet was that, anyway? "If the Avalanche wins, you have to kiss your partner." Come on! Sal was a pretty sick young woman, to think of a bet like that. Yes. Yes, he'd liked it. He'd *loved* it, in fact. It just seemed so right. So... inevitable. He and Scully were meant to do that--to do it *a lot*. God, Mulder, he told himself sharply. Snap out of it! She's your partner. She's your friend. She's... she's... His feet more like leaded weights, the video banging against his thigh in recrimination, he mounted the stairs to her apartment. *** His knock was soft, tentative--almost as if he hoped she wouldn't answer. But she did, dressed in a comfortable pair of faded jeans and an oversized Panthers jersey. He smiled at that. "To ward off the hockey demons," she replied simply, showing him in. "Do you want a beer?" she asked, trying to sound normal, trying to sound as if she hadn't spent the entire day thinking about how astounding that first kiss had been. She failed, but Mulder was too distracted by his own thoughts to notice. "Sure," he replied, setting the video on the table, trying to shake the feeling that it was laughing at him. He'd thought it was the perfect choice when he'd been in the video store, but now... "So what'd you bring?" she asked, handing him a cold bottle of beer. He took it gingerly--careful not touch her hands--not to push his luck. His head ducked down, embarassed. "Um, ...Look, I thought it was funny, at first... but now..." She gave him a curious look, and opened the bag on the table. Her laughter was a sweet sound in Mulder's ears. Too sweet by half. "'Cutting Edge'?" she asked incredulously. "Do you *know* how bad this movie is?" "Well," he said, more embarassed by the minute. "It was the only hockey movie I could think of." "What about 'The Mighty Ducks'?" "The only one I could think of that wasn't *completely* obnoxious," he ammended. She considered it for a moment. This was so typically Mulder, she thought dotingly. He's *such* a bumbler, sometimes. Her smile was slow in coming, but it was natural, forgiving. "Cute idea," she said simply, walking to the VCR and sliding in the tape. "And it has that guy in it, doesn't it? The one that was in that weird show on Fox? What was it called?" "'Strange Luck'," Mulder replied, glad to see that she was taking it all in stride. He began to relax a little, taking a long sip on his beer, then another--just in case he wasn't as relaxed as he thought he was. *** The movie *was* bad--and sappy. So sappy that it was funny. They both relaxed as the film went on, becoming comfortable again. They were just partners, after all. There was nothing between them. Which became perfectly obvious as Mulder subconsciously moved ever closer to his 'partner' as they watched. "Am I going to have to call you for icing, Mulder?" she asked suddenly, bringing up the fact that he was now sidled up right next to her. He puzzled that out for a minute before saying sharply, "*Icing*?" She smiled in return, a friendly smile that suddenly turned vixen, totally against her will. "Sure... You're offsides." He grinned in return, aware--quite abruptly--of how very close they were now. Close enough that he could smell the faint trace of her day's perfume. So close that he could reach out and... The kiss took their minds by surprise, but their bodies had known it was coming, and were fully prepared. The rhythms were so natural, so *right*, that Scully found herself sliding down slowly into a prone position, as Mulder rose up and to the side to make room for her on the length of the couch. Kisses turned to caresses, and Scully felt herself getting carried away in the intensity of it all. This was so perfect, she thought, as Mulder ran a careful, sensuous hand down the length of her body. He was everything she had ever wanted, and now, she would finally get it. Mulder fell arousal building in him, felt his pulse quicken as she brought her hands up to run through his hair. The laughable movie forgotten, they explored each other, slowly working toward the thing that they both realised they had wanted for a long time--perhaps since that first day she had walked into his office, her eyes challenging, his words designed to cut. Somehow, they had always been the perfect unmatched set. Scully grunted suddenly in pain, and Mulder pulled himself off of her. "What?" "Nothing," she replied, suddenly scant of breath. "The couch is just--" "Sorry," he replied immediately. A smile crept over him. "I guess I just play too rough." She smiled in return, a deep, playful smile. "You know, rough play is worth a penalty." She got up, ignoring the slightly hurt look on his face. "You might be ejected from the game." He looked up at her teasing smile, ran his left hand sensitively up her arm. "How can I avoid that?" She caught his hand as it crested her shoulder, heading inexorably down toward her brest over the soft cotton of her jersey. "I could always put you in the penalty box," she said dubiously, as if she didn't feel that was punishment enough. He caught that mocking look in her eyes and rose, using his right hand to approach the target that his left had been denied. He knew she wanted to play a game, and he was more than willing to go along. "And where would that be?" "Well," she said coyly, still deliberating. "I guess you weren't playing *too* rough." She said it as if she was disappointed by the fact. Her face lit up suddenly, lust mixed in with the silent laughter in her eyes. "The penalty box it is." He gave her a curious look. With a smile that told him of the game to come, she grabbed his left hand firmly, leaving the right one to drift thrillingly across her chest, and led him toward the bedroom. He grinned, already heating up again. "How long would I have to *stay* in the penalty box?" She stopped them as they reached the bed, her hand reaching out to caress the nape of his neck, as his own hands dropped to the hem of her jersey, taking hold of the fabric in anticipation. "Oh... the whole game, I should think..." She stood on tiptoe to kiss him firmly on the lips, a kiss that lingered until he was sure he couldn't stand any more. "I hope it's a long one," he whispered, bringing her jersey up to take it over her head. "At least triple overtime," she assured him. "At *least*..." ********** THE END M&S---EP---Smoker for Scully---------------------------Queen of Angst XAngst Anonymous M: You gonna smoke that, or do you and Myth Patrol want to smoke on this? Construction Site CM: Are you giving me a choice? xangst@frii.com------------Die-Hard Skinner Chick---------Dean Warner ********************************************************************** _ _ \ / For information on the XAngst Anonymous \ / email fanfic list, please write: X A N G S T Anonymous / \ & xangst@frii.com / \ The Myth Patrol Dean Warner--Founder and moderator - - **********************************************************************