From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: 17 Aug 2005 01:58:20 -0000
Subject: Fireworks 1/1 by Mary Kleinsmith
Source: direct

Reply To: Buc252@aol.com


Fireworks  1/1
By Mary Kleinsmith (Buc252@adelphia.net)

Category:  MSR, humor, MT . . 
Rating:  Most definitely an R - this is the closest 
to smut I get, folks! 
Spoilers:  None for the show, but a couple for some 
fanfics.  But unless you knew them, you wouldn't 
recognize them..
Summary:  Mulder and Scully attend the Federal Bureau 
of Investigation's birthday celebration picnic.  And 
Mulder learns a very valuable lesson about public 
displays of affection.
Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, Skinner, and everybody 
else you recognize don't belong to me.  Only the plot 
is mine.  No infringement is intended - this is just 
for fun.  
Author's Notes:  Thank you to Mindy for poking, and 
Laura and Vickie for the wonderful betas, and for 
giving me the courage to post this one.
Feedback:  Yes, please please please?


Basement, X-Files Office
J Edgar Hoover Building
July 25th, 4:30 pm

"Do we really have to go to this thing, Scully?"  
Mulder was nearly whining, waving the hand that was 
holding a colorful sheet of paper.  She couldn't help 
but wonder if this was what she sounded like when she 
didn't want to go on one of his more bizarre cases.

"Yes, Mulder.  Didn't you read the memo?  In Bureau 
protocol, 'highly recommended' means you'd damn right 
well better be there.  It's the anniversary of the 
establishment of the FBI!  Besides, what's the big 
deal?  We eat some hot dogs and burgers, maybe take a 
walk in the park, watch some of our less esteemed 
colleagues make attempts at athletic notoriety, and 
after dark, watch some fireworks.  It could be fun!  
And they're giving us a whole day off for it!"

"I can think of other, more fun things to do in the 
dark," he said, grinning lasciviously.  

She rolled her eyes.  The physical manifestation of 
their relationship was still new, and Mulder's 
virility after years of abstinence was proving to be 
somewhat of a challenge.  Not that she was 
complaining, she smiled.  She was enjoying every bit 
of it.  But if his amorous intentions became a bit 
overwhelming . . . well, she could deal with that, 
too.

"I don't remember ever saying that the two are 
mutually exclusive."  She laughed at his shocked 
look.

After a moment, he sighed.  "Okay, you win.  I'll go 
to the Bureau birthday celebration, and I'll be a 
good boy and play nice with the other kids."

"You'll be rewarded," she responded.  "Pick me up at 
eleven.  I'll pack a cooler."

"How will you know what to put in it?" he asked.

Doing a respectable imitation, Scully drawled.  "I 
know what you like."  He laughed at her turning his 
own phrase against him.  "Besides," she added, "they 
sent out a list with the email of what the FBI will 
be providing.  Anything not on it, each person has to 
bring for themselves."

"You're always thinking, aren't you?" Mulder said, in 
amusement as much as amazement.

"Like you're not. It's just what we think about 
that's different."

A thoughtful look overcame Mulder's face.  "You 
didn't happen to print out that list, did you?"

"Sure."  Scully rifled through the paperwork in her 
open briefcase, finally producing the single sheet.  
"What are you up to?"  They'd worked together long 
enough that she recognized when he was planning 
something.

"You have your surprises," he said with a grin as he 
grabbed his coat.  "And I have mine.  I'll see you in 
the morning, Scully."

She watched in silence and suspicion as he 
practically floated out of the office.  She was in 
soooo much trouble.

XxXxXxXxX

Scully Apartment
10:30 am, July 26th

The cooler was filled, and Scully had turned her 
attention to packing a small duffle bag.  She was 
wearing shorts and a tank top, but wanted to take 
along a spare set, along with a pair of jeans and a 
jacket in case it got cool later, especially after 
the sun went down.  

There would be sports, as well, and as an 
afterthought, she threw in her rarely-used baseball 
mitt, a gift from Mulder on her last birthday.  Their 
batting lesson had only been the beginning of his 
gift, which had ultimately included trips to batting 
cages and tossing a ball back and forth in the park.  
It had been the initiation of their spending more off 
time together, a precedent to their relationship as 
it was now, as a couple, she realized.  

As a last addition, she put in a small first aid kit.  
Mulder was a magnet for injuries these days, and put 
him together with sports and a bunch of other over-
eager agents, and there was bound to be trouble.  
Mild trouble, but scrapes and bruises all the same.  
Half the bureau was filled with men who could be 
surprisingly boy-like at times.

She'd barely finished zipping the duffle when a knock 
heralded Mulder's arrival.  Opening the door, she 
couldn't help but smile at what greeted her.

"Morning, Scully," he said with a boyish grin.  
"Happy-Federal-Bureau-of-Investigation Birthday!"  
Rather than a duffel of his own, he carried an 
oversized backpack.

"I hope you have a change of clothes in there," she 
said without preamble, nodding at the sack.

"Among other things," he chuckled.  "And I love you, 
too."

He pecked her on the lips. 

"Same here, plus kudos on the shorts," she said, 
eyeing his bare legs appreciatively.  "If you'd shown 
up in the kind that are so popular these days that go 
down to your knees, I might have just had to shoot 
you again."

"Scully, you know it doesn't take such drastic 
measures to get me out of my clothes," he said, 
waggling his eyebrows.  "All you have to do is ask."  
He stalled for just a beat.  "Are you asking?"

"You know I would, G-man," she said, fingering the 
collar of his polo shirt.  "But we've got a picnic to 
get to."

His eyes strayed to the items she'd placed near the 
door: a duffel bag and a cooler.  "Looks like you're 
ready to go," he noted.

"Then let's go," she replied.  "How about if I take 
the bags, and you carry the cooler."

Hefting its weight, he grunted.  "What ever happened 
to women's lib?" he asked rhetorically.

"Women of the 21st century only recognize it when it's 
to their benefit, Mulder.  And right now, not having 
to carry that cooler is certainly to mine."

"Women!" he exclaimed.  

She gave him a resounding smack on the rear as he 
bent to heft the item of debate, inciting a yelp.  
"Let's move it there, stud," Scully laughed, 
preceding him out the door.

XxXxXxXxXxX

By the time they arrived at the park, the festivities 
were already well under way.  Four agents they 
recognized were on a nearby slab of concrete shooting 
a basketball at a well-worn hoop.  Kids and adults 
alike threw Frisbees, tossed or kicked various types 
of balls back and forth, and staked out spots at 
picnic tables and under the few shelters available.  
"Organized chaos" was the term that came to mind.

"How about we forget the table and just spread a 
blanket in the shade?" Mulder asked, eyeing the 
crowded tables.  His instinctive loner qualities were 
asserting themselves, and, for once, she was willing 
to indulge them.  Sharing a blanket in the shade 
seemed imminently more practical than trying to eke 
out a spot on a portion of a picnic table out in the 
middle of the hot sunshine.  

As they spread out their belongings on the blanket, 
Scully took in everything around them.  It would be a 
miracle if Mulder got through this day without 
hurting himself.
He was notoriously accident prone, but he also loved 
sports.  Any sport, it seemed, would do, and asking 
him to stick to something safe would just make him 
want to participate in the rough games all the more.  
He just loved to yank her chain.

The formal festivities began at noon, and before they 
knew it, Skinner's voice boomed from a bullhorn.

"Welcome to the Federal Bureau of Investigation's 
birthday picnic.  All fall in for today's first 
event:  the sack race!"

Mulder's eyes sparkled as he looked to her, a child-
like quality she rarely saw in those hazel depths.  

"Hey, wanna play?"  The grin was infectious.

She hesitated to say just what she'd rather be doing, 
but nodded her agreement, returning the smile.  
"Sure, why not?"  If nothing else, it would keep him 
away from the more dangerous activities.

Several hours later, after having partaken in not 
only the sack race, but also the three legged race, 
the egg-on-a-spoon thing, and several rounds of Simon 
Says, Mulder surprised everybody with an impromptu 
water balloon toss that resulted in everybody pretty 
much getting soaked to the skin.  Dripping wet and 
out of breath, the pair dropped down onto their 
blanket in exhaustion.

"I'm just too old for this," Scully said, panting.

"Hey, you're younger than I am," Mulder responded 
with a smile.  Wringing out the tail to his shirt, he 
flicked his hand, spraying her with water.

"As somebody famous once said," she laughed, "it's 
not the years, it's the mileage."

"Oh, I think this chassis has a whole lot of mileage 
left on it," Mulder responded, smacking her on the 
butt.  "It certainly looks good to me."

"Well, I think it would look better if it was dry." 
She reached for her bag, climbing to her feet.   
"Since when do you specialize in group activities, 
Mulder? Especially ones primarily aimed at children?"

"We're all children at heart," he responded grinning.  
"Besides, I couldn't resist the idea of seeing 
somebody pelt Skinner.  At least he didn't have to 
worry about drying his hair," Mulder laughed shaking 
his own wet head.  He looked up at her, feeling the 
water drip down the back of his neck.

"Where're you going?" he asked, looking for all the 
world like a little child being left with a sitter by 
a beloved parent.  

"I'll be right back, I'm just going to get into some 
dry clothes.  While I'm gone, why don't you make 
yourself useful and find out when they plan to fire 
up the grill?"

"Will do, boss," he said, ducking as she tried to 
swat him for his insolence.

As she walked to the ladies' restroom, a feeling of 
well-being was strong in the air.  Granted, it was 
still early, but it had so far been a good day.  

Fortunately, there wasn't much of a line, and she 
quickly changed into her spare shirt and shorts, 
stuffing the wet ones into a plastic bag.  Returning 
to their picnic, she draped them over a thatch of 
bushes near their blanket, hanging them to dry.

"Skinner says the coals are heating now, and it 
should be about a half hour," Mulder said as soon as 
he was within earshot.  

"Mulder, how did you get dry?"

"And you call yourself an FBI agent?" he laughed.  
"You're not the only one who thought ahead enough to 
bring a change of clothes.  Don't forget, I was the 
one with the water balloons."

"Yes, but how could you possibly have gone, talked to 
Skinner, gotten to the restroom to change, and still 
get back here nearly when I did?"

"I never said I went to the restroom."

"You changed in the car?"  How could he have done 
that?  It would have been in plain view of anybody 
and everybody passing by!

""No, I changed in the bushes."  He nodded to the 
crop in whose shadow their blanket sat.

Scully was incredulous.  "You changed right out in 
the open in a public park?!  What if somebody had 
seen you?  What if some little kids had come along?"

"I was careful!" he argued, laughing.  "What are you 
worried about? That some other woman is going to get 
a look and try to steal me away from you?  It'll 
never happen."

"I know, and I'm more worried about your being 
dragged off to jail for public indecency."

His expression became devious, feral.  "You don't 
find that sort of thing . . . exciting?  Intriguing?"  
It was obvious they were no longer talking about 
simply changing their clothes.

"Mulder, I outgrew my adventurous streak over a 
decade ago," she said, oh so calmly.  She wasn't 
about to admit to him just how affected she was by 
the idea.  She had to distract him.  "How about 
getting us something to drink while I unpack our 
dinner?"

"Sure, what'll you have?"

"Anything as long as it's diet," she responded 
predictably.  "If they don't have any, then water 
will do."

"Ice?"

"Don't bother - we can take some from the cooler."

"Back in five," he said with a wink, sprinting away.  
The man constantly amazed her.  He was no kid, and 
was older than she, yet he still had the vigor of a 
teen.  Well, almost.

Rather than dwell for too long on Mulder's vigor, 
Scully began to break out the food.  Knowing that 
Mulder wouldn't appreciate just one type of side 
dish, she'd packed a variety of items to suit his 
mood.  Potato, taco, and macaroni salads,  chips in 
three different flavors, a bag of fresh vegetables 
with some ranch dressing for dipping, and her secret 
stash - a fruit mixture for dessert or a late-night 
snack while they watched the fireworks.  

How the Director had managed to swing a full-fledged 
pyrotechnic display for the Bureau employees and 
their families, she couldn't fathom, but she 
appreciated it nonetheless.  She had fond memories of 
the shows she'd attended as a child, but hadn't seen 
any in the last few years. It always seemed like they 
were out of town or she just didn't feel like 
venturing out - but truth be told, she mostly didn't 
want to attend them alone.  But that was before she 
and Mulder had taken the latest step in the evolution 
of their relationship.  Now, she couldn't imagine 
being anywhere else, as long as it was with him.

When seven minutes had passed and Mulder still wasn't 
back, she began to worry.  When it reached ten, she 
was almost frantic.  It was silly, she knew.  How 
much trouble could he get into just getting a couple 
cans of soda?  But then again, this *was* Mulder they 
were talking about.

At twelve minutes, he sauntered over as if it was 
nothing, and Scully didn't know whether to be angry 
or relieved.  

"Took you long enough," she said.

"I got cornered by Kim, who just had to tell me about 
the preparations for her wedding.  I think you can 
expect a shower invitation sometime in the coming 
week," he replied handing her a can of Diet Pepsi.  

"Wow, they even sprang for the good stuff," she said, 
reading the label.  "No store brands this time!"

 "Yeah, the economy must be improving," Mulder said, 
taking a long pull from his can of root beer.  He 
took a seat on the blanket at Scully's side.  "So, 
tell me what goes on at one of these showers?  Is 
there drinking?  Will there be a male stripper?"

"Why?  You applying for the job?" she laughed.  "Not 
that you're not qualified, of course, but I think I'd 
rather keep your performances private."

"Seriously, Scully.  Why do you think that a bridal 
shower is so different from a bachelor party?  I hear 
showers are much less . . . celebratory."

"That's as good a way of putting it as any, I guess.  
I think it has to do with the way that men and women 
look at getting married.  Women look at marriage as 
the beginning of a new life, whereas many men see it 
more as the ending of a previous life."

"I don't know that I can agree with that, Scully.  
I've known guys who loved the idea of being married."

"Well, it's not absolute.  I think that's how the 
festivities originated, but as society has evolved, 
there have been changes as well.  Bachelorette 
parties are a good example, where the other side of 
the coin is bridal showers that include the men.  
Those are both becoming more and more popular."

"So what you're saying is that women and men's roles 
are reversing?"

"Call it more of an evening-out.  Thirty years ago, a 
man who took more than one sexual partner while 
unmarried wasn't any big deal, but a woman doing the 
same was looked down upon.  Now, look how things have 
changed."

"You're right about that.  Although I've always 
thought it was the monogamy that was important, not 
the ceremony."

Scully looked concerned.  "Is that your way of 
telling me you're not the marrying kind?"

"No, not at all, if the woman wants it.  I just don't 
think that it's the most important part."

"So what *is* the most important part?"  She was 
quickly moving to feeling defensive.

"In a word? Commitment. As long as you're committed, 
the rest will work itself out."

It was a relief to hear him say it.  One of these 
days, she thought, she was going to marry this man.  
Even if she had to propose herself!  But that was 
enough serious talk for one day.

"Right now, I'm mostly committed to a hot dog with 
all the trimmings.  How about you?"

"A burger sounds good," he said, rising.  "Want me to 
get them while you shoo away the flies?"

"Sure, just make sure you remember: ketchup, onions, 
mustard, and relish."

"Sheesh, Scully!  How're you gonna taste the dog?"

"It's a delicate balance, as you well know," she 
laughed as he left their blanket once again.

Despite his comments, he got everything perfect, and 
their meal was delicious.  By the time they were 
finished and the remnants were either packed away or 
disposed of, both agents were stuffed.

"God, I don't think I could eat another bite," Mulder 
said, patting his stomach.  

"Me neither.  How about a walk?"

"Once around the park?" he asked. 

"I don't know, it might take twice," she responded, 
watching him push himself to his feet.  

"We'll play it by ear," he said, reaching out his 
hand to help her up.  

Surprisingly, once they were standing, he didn't 
release her hand, holding it in his own for their 
entire walk.  It was unusual for Mulder to be so 
publicly demonstrative around work people.  By 
unspoken agreement, they'd decided to try to keep 
work and pleasure as separate as possible given the 
situation so nobody could use their relationship as 
cause to take disciplinary action.  Most of the 
Bureau didn't even know they were together in that 
way, but they would now.  As they walked past 
Skinner, who was one of the few who knew, he nodded 
approvingly and went on with his business, manning 
one of the giant grills.

Their walk was interrupted a few times by people just 
saying hello.  

"Wow, I didn't think we were so popular," Mulder 
noted.

"You'd realize we're not as unpopular as you think if 
you'd come out of your office every once in awhile," 
she good-naturedly chastised him.  "Not every agent 
is another Tom Colton."

"Thank God.  What ever happened to him anyway?  I 
haven't heard anything about him in years."

"Last I knew, he was transferred to the Anchorage 
field office," Scully answered calmly, although she 
was dying to laugh.

It didn't stop her partner, though.  His guffaw was 
sharp and sudden.  "Alaska?  They sent the bastard to 
Alaska?!"

"Yep, said it should give him a lesson in being a 
good team player or something like that."

"Ouch!"

"Teach him to mess with the X-Files division," she 
said with surprising bitterness.

"As I recall," Mulder began softly.  "You were on his 
side for most of that case."  It had been a hard time 
for him, still feeling the outsider and not quite 
trusting his new partner.  Thank God it had improved.

"Yes, but I also knew when I was wrong and needed to 
change direction.  Colton refused to see what was 
right in front of him just because it came from you.  
There's no excuse for that."

Mulder shrugged.  "He was just one of many over the 
years."  

By this time, they'd wandered back to their picnic 
area, plopping down unceremoniously.  "I'm bushed," 
Mulder stated, grabbing his backpack.  "I think it's 
time for a nap."

"You getting old on me, Mulder?" she kidded, watching 
as he stripped off his shirt, then put the pack under 
his head and reclined on their blanket.

"I'm not a young man anymore, Scully."  He patted his 
bare stomach.  "Care to join me?"

It was inviting, and she was tired, so five minutes 
later found them both sound asleep, Scully's head 
propped on Mulder's stomach where his hands rested in 
her hair.    They painted quite a picture, but 
everybody knew better than to disturb them.

The sun was setting by the time he awakened, and he 
caressed Scully's cheek gently to bring her out of 
what he hoped was a good dream.  

"Mmm . . ." Scully groaned, flexing her shoulders.  
"What time is it?"

Mulder looked at his watch.  "Almost nine o'clock."

"Fireworks are scheduled to start at ten."

"Yeah, I know.  Take a look."  Off to their left, the 
pyrotechnic display was being set up, row upon row of 
harmless looking rockets, but they knew better.

"Isn't that a bit close to the crowd?" she asked.

"These are professionals, Scully.  I'm sure they know 
what they're doing.  It's not like your brother 
setting them off in your mom's back yard."

"God, I hope not!" she responded.  "That man is 
positively dangerous when he *thinks* he knows what 
he's doing."

"Tell me about it.  But I'm sure that they've had the 
area all scoped out for a long time, figured exactly 
where and how far from the picnic area to set them up 
- all the technicalities."

By this time, it was practically pitch dark outside.  
"Guess there's nothing to do now but rest and wait," 
Scully said with a sigh.  She admittedly wasn't the 
most patient person in the world, but stakeouts and 
surveillance duty had given her the ability to wait, 
if not the desire.

"How about a little music?" Mulder said, surprising 
her by producing a small, hand-held radio from his 
own sack.  He clicked on the power, and a soft, 
romantic melody flowed from the speaker.

The nearest picnickers were well out of earshot, and 
the park was filled with enough activity that they 
didn't worry that the music would disturb anybody.  
She quickly deduced it must have been a CD, as the 
genres varied from ballads to oldies to blues, jazz, 
and even a few classical pieces.  If he'd mixed it 
himself, he'd done a good job.

They cuddled as it grew darker and darker, listening 
to the music and just enjoying being able to relax.

"The fireworks should start any minute now," Mulder 
said, glancing at the face of his illuminated watch.  
He looked at her, a wistful look in his eyes that 
nearly glowed in the dark.  "Y'know what I've always 
fantasized about, Scully?"

Uh oh.  "No, what?"  He leaned toward her, drawing 
his lips close to her ear, whispering.  Scully's eyes 
grew wide.  "Mulder, are you crazy?!"

"C'mon, Scully.  Think how . . . explosive . . . it 
would be."

"Mulder, we're in a public park, right out in the 
open!"

"But it's totally dark, and the nearest people are 
over thirty feet away."

"The fireworks will illuminate the entire park!"

"So we'll pull the blanket up over ourselves," he 
argued.  "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"At the moment, it's cowering in fear of being 
arrested!"

"Come on, baby," he whispered, taking a different 
tact, and using the name he only used when they were 
at their most intimate.  "Please?"  He peppered tiny 
kisses along her jaw and ear, running his tongue down 
the side of her neck, over her pulse point.

There was no way she could resist him when he did 
that, but she remained silent.  If something went 
wrong, she could still say it was his fault.  

He rolled over on top of her, covering them with the 
blanket as he went until they were cocooned in their 
own private sanctuary.  She looked deeply into his 
sparkling eyes as she felt him divesting her of her 
shorts and top, surprised at just how liberating it 
felt, even though they hadn't really done anything 
yet.  He brought his lips to hers, kissing her 
passionately when the first rocket exploded.  The air 
was electrified in more ways than one.

It quickly grew into sensations like she'd never 
before experienced, the lights, sounds, and rumbling 
of the ground itself adding accompaniment to their 
love making, and while she felt ashes and miniscule 
remnants of the pyrotechnics landing on her hands and 
arms where they held him, she was much too enthralled 
in their activities to take note.  

The sensations were amazing, making love in the open 
air - even covered with a blanket - was more erotic 
than anything they'd previously done in their sexual 
activities.  She'd never known Mulder to be so . . . 
virile.  

They rose to the height of their passion, moving 
together in a dance to the music of the explosions 
overhead.  The blanket slipped, exposing her breasts 
to the open air, but she was beyond caring.  The cool 
evening air kissed her flesh, pushing her over the 
precipice while Mulder continued to move above her.  

She floated back to earth to the feeling of Mulder 
thrusting like never before.  He was passionate, but 
frantic.  He began to scream out, his actions now 
fully instinctual.

Knowing exactly where they were, Scully couldn't 
allow it, so covered his lips with her own, allowing 
him to release verbally into her mouth to stifle the 
sound of his sexual release into her body, triggering 
a second of her own.

In the momentary silence between the next two 
rockets' launch, Scully freed him from her tight 
embrace.  He still panted in her ear, but made no 
move to rise or withdrawal.

"Uhhhh . . . Mulder. . ."

The difference between a moan and a groan is very 
slight.  So slight, it didn't register with Scully 
that it was anything but the aftereffects of his 
release.  

"Yeah, I know.  Mulder that was amazing."

"Scully . . ."

"I love you," she said.

Another groan, and Scully began to wonder.  It was 
unusual for Mulder not to respond in kind.  

"Umm . . . maybe we should get dressed before the 
Bureau gets a whole different kind of 'show'," she 
said with a little chuckle.  Truth be told, she was 
more worried about Mulder's lack of response than of 
being seen.

Finally, Mulder managed words.  "I hate to ruin your 
night, Scully, but . . ."

"But what?"  She pecked him on the cheek, just to 
reassure him that anything he said would be okay.

"I think I may be in need of some . . . medical 
attention."

Suddenly, afterglow turned to serious concern.  
"Mulder, what happened?  Are you hurt?  Did you pull 
a muscle?"

"Not quite," he groaned again.  

"Well, not to be insensitive, but if you can get off 
me, I'll check you out."

"Can't get off," he murmured.  

"Okay, well, can you tell me where you're hurt?"

"Back . . . ass. . ."  He spoke the words quietly, 
whether in pain or embarrassment, she wasn't sure.

"Well, first, I need to get out from under you.  Can 
you lift yourself even a little bit?"

A slight nod was his response, and he pushed himself 
up onto his elbows and forearms.  Scully slid out 
from under him, conscious but uncaring of her state 
of undress.  Thank God for the darkness.

"I can't see anything," she said, kneeling over him.  
"Let me get a flashlight."

She took the opportunity to slide into her shorts and 
shirt, simply covering herself, not taking the extra 
time for underwear.  She'd put a flashlight in the 
bottom of her duffel, and she dug for it until her 
hands clasped the cylindrical object.

"Got it."  She flicked the switch, lighting the area.  
Despite the illumination, everybody around them 
seemed to still be enraptured of the fireworks 
display.  

Turning the beam on her partner, she gasped.  "Oh, my 
God, Mulder."

"What is it?" he asked weakly.

"Burns," she answered simply.  "It looks like you 
were burned by debris from the fireworks.  There's a 
mild one on your lower back and a much more serious 
one on your buttocks."  She took a breath, letting it 
out slowly.  "Mulder, we have to get you to a 
hospital."

"No hospital!"

"But . . ."

"I'm not kidding, Scully.  No way am I going to the 
hospital for this.  I'd be the laughing stock of the 
Bureau from the moment the insurance forms hit the HR 
office."

"But Mulder, if this isn't treated properly, it could 
easily get infected.  Burns are notorious for . . ."

"I don't care, Scully," he said, gritting his teeth.  
"Take me home."

"How?" she questioned.  "You can hardly move!"

"I'll manage.  Just help me up."

Unable to refuse him anything at this point in their 
relationship, and worried about his condition, she 
rapidly wrapped the blanket around him.  "Stay here 
while I put the rest of our stuff in the car.  I'll 
come back for you in a minute."

"I'll be here," he chuckled quietly, without humor.

By the time she returned to his side, he seemed to 
have regained some composure.  He let her help him to 
his feet, the blanket pulled snugly about him to 
conceal his nudity.  

The trip to the car seemed to take forever, but 
eventually, he heaved a sigh of relief as she opened 
the rear door for him to crawl inside.  Unable to 
sit, the only alternative was for him to lie on his 
side with his face to the rear seat.  The blanket 
rubbed against his burns, which hurt like hell, but 
the alternative was to drive through the streets of 
DC with his ass hanging in the breeze.  And that was 
*not* going to happen, only because she'd never allow 
it.

She drove to her apartment, mostly because it was on 
the ground floor and closer to the park.  Leaving the 
bags and cooler in the car, Scully supported him up 
the front steps and to her door.  As soon as the door 
clicked shut, the blanket was discarded, and Scully 
led him to the sofa.

He flopped face down into the soft cushions, and she 
left him there to go to the kitchen.  Into her 
largest bowl went water and as many ice cubes as she 
had, while a few soft clothes were thrown over her 
arm.  

Sitting on the coffee table, it was her first 
opportunity to really study Mulder's injury.  The 
burns were bad, but she didn't feel they were life 
threatening.  She doused two of the towels in the ice 
water and laid them gently on her partner's body.  He 
twitched from the cold and pain of the pressure, but 
remained otherwise silent.

"You still with me?" she asked in concern.

"Unfortunately, yes," he murmured.  Then, a little 
stronger, "Scully, do you still have your spare gun?"

"Sure, Mulder. Why?"

"Because I want you to get it and put me out of my 
misery."

She laughed, which probably was his intention.  "I 
know it hurts, Mulder.  Burns are notoriously 
painful, mostly because somewhere inside there, the 
flesh is still burning.  These cloths will cool it 
off.  I'm sorry it hurts so much."

"God hates me."

"He doesn't hate you!"

"Then why did he let that stuff fall out of the sky 
onto me?"

"Maybe that's His editorial comment on public 
displays of affection," she chuckled as she rose.  
"I'll be right back.  I need to see what I have in my 
medicine cabinet for burns."

When she returned, she re-cooled and wetted the 
cloths, then re-applied the one on his rear.  "How's 
your back?" she asked.

"Not so bad.  The cold helped."

"Good.  I'm going to apply this burn cream to that 
one.  The other one will need more time before it can 
be covered.  Hang in there with me, partner."

He lay there silently as she treated his back, 
seemingly completely comfortable with her close 
examination of his posterior.  She didn't want to 
risk there being any scars to one of his best assets, 
no pun intended, she thought wickedly.

She kept her ministrations gentle, and eventually, 
Mulder dozed off.  She let him sleep while she 
unloaded the car and put everything away.  It had 
been a long day, and despite the current situation, a 
shiver still went through her when she thought about 
the encounter in the park.  She'd never been one to 
take sexual risks, but that was the most erotic thing 
she'd ever experienced.

Finally, seeing the clock roll over to 2 am, she 
decided it was high time they made it to bed.  She 
woke him, shaking his shoulder gently.

"Hey, Mulder.  Time for bed."

He groaned without opening the one eye she could see 
from where the side of his face rested on the couch 
pillow.  "You woke me to tell me to go to bed?"

"We need to get some sleep.  Think you can move to 
the bedroom?"

"I can manage, I think," he replied, pushing up on 
his arms.  Stiffly, he rose, hobbling so as to move 
his lower body as little as possible.

"I hope you don't take this personally, Scully, but I 
think I'm going to skip brushing my teeth tonight.  
Hell, I may even skip going to the bathroom."

"That would be a problem," she commented with a smile 
as Mulder lowered himself, face down, into bed.  "But 
you have something bigger to decide."

"What's that?" he mumbled into the pillow.

"You can barely walk, and you certainly won't be able 
to sit.  How are you going to explain this to Skinner 
in the morning?"

This time, the loud groan was purely emotional.

The End