Date: Mon, 24 May 1999 21:26:36 -0400
Subject: NEW:  Formal Wear Intoxication (1/1)


Title: Formal Wear Intoxication
By: Lyndalynn
e-mail:  lyndalynn@hotmail.com
Rating: G
Category: S
Spoilers: none
Keywords: impending MSR, a dash of UST
Summary: Scully asks Mulder for a little social favor.
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. (But the fun I'd have if they
did...)
I'm just borrowing them for a bit. They actually belong to Chris Carter,

1013, and Fox - to whom I thank for my obsession.
Feedback: Yes please!
Notes: This is the first attempt to finishing a story that I started.
It's
just a big jar of marshmallow fluff. Yummy.





Thursday 4:25 PM

It was raining, still. This had to be the fifth day straight. Sixth?
Somehow Mulder had lost count.  It didn't seem like the weather would
affect
him at all. After all, he had a record of losing track of time. Days,
even
weeks went by while he was intently pouring over case details. It was
not as
if he could even perceive the weather conditions from his basement
office.
Down there it was always dark and quiet--an environment unto itself,
with
everything outside passing by.

Then again, there was the sunshine. That bright spark that pressed into
Mulder's reality, even on the darkest of days.

"Hey, Scully."

She gave him a brief but warm smile as she turned to close the office
door
behind her.

"Mulder, we need to talk."

Uh-oh. He closed the file he'd been reading, took off his glasses and
rubbed his eyes.

"Sure. I'm getting nowhere on this case. I'd welcome a distraction.."

A distraction? Scully was already reconsidering her reasoning for this
talk.

"What's on your mind , Red?"

Scully furrowed her brow in return, and smiled the slightest of smiles.
<Yes, they had become close and casual over the years working together.
Surely he wouldn't mind helping her out this time. Mulder had been there
for
her many times in the past, and she for him. They had come to trust and
depend on one another, like any great partnership. Of course,
circumstances
in this case were slightly different.>

"Scully?" He was suddenly intense, concerned. "Is there something wrong?

Someone injured?"

"No. No, it's nothing like that."

He let out a relieved sigh, leaned back and crossed his arms. "So,
what's
going on?"

Scully crossed the small room and took the seat in front of Mulder. She
sat
forward and rested her hands on his desk, stopping just short of
fidgeting
with his nameplate. She looked him in the eye and wrinkled her nose. She

almost couldn't keep from laughing at the silliness of the entire
situation.
She didn't want to do this, but yet, in some hidden, secret place inside

her, she did. She wanted it very much.

"My cousin is getting married this weekend," Scully began, almost
reluctantly.

Mulder smiled. She could already see the laughter in his eyes, but she
continued.

"Big wedding. Formal. Ice sculptures. They are even releasing doves ...I

have to go. It's expected. And ..."

Mulder's grin widened. His eyes shifted, looking sly.

"Scully. Are you asking me on a date?"

He was enjoying this far too much.

"No. It's not like it would be a "Date" date. It's just, it's a formal
invitation, and..."

"You said that already."

"And you look great in a tux." She'd just play him at his own game. No
way
that he'd get the upper hand with her.

But he just smiled. He knew he looked great in a tux.

Saturday 1:30 PM

Mulder arrived at Scully's apartment a little late. He knew that the
guests had to be seated by 2:15. He also knew Scully didn't want to have

anything to do with all the small talk and formalities before hand.

Even as he climbed the stairs to her apartment, knowing that this was a
formal event, knowing that *he* was dressed to the nines, Mulder
expected
Scully to look like Scully. When he pictured his partner, she was always

wearing her dark, authoritative suits, with her no-nonsense look. (Well,

maybe not in some dreams he'd had...) His shock was apparent when Scully

opened the door and greeted him with a look that could have walked right
off
the pages of VOGUE.

She stood there in a pale lilac dress, spaghetti staps and an
empire waistline that flowed to ankle-length. It was just tight enough
to
hug the right places.

"Don't just stand there Mulder. Come on in. I'm almost ready."

He watched her walk away. Her hair was a mass of soft red curls. Mulder
fought a sudden urge to run his fingers through those curls. Just where
were
these thoughts coming from?

When Scully came back, she was holding a small lilac clutch-purse and
trying to fasten a silver pendant necklace.

"I know. I know. I'm running late," She said as she fumbled with the
necklace, "I think I may have over done it a little."

Mulder seized the moment. Circling around her he brushed the hair off
her
neck. She smelled like vanilla and herbal shampoo. To Mulder, it was
almost
intoxicating. His fingers brushed her shoulders as he took the necklace
for
her.

"Here. Let me help." He said when he found his voice again. "You
look..."
Beautiful. Gorgeous. Radiant.

"Un-Scully-like," she supplied with a smile.

"Well, that too." But not really. She was all those things. Why had he
not
seen it before?

She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door.

"Come on. We're going to be late. Wouldn't want people to talk."

Mulder smiled at that thought and perhaps let his imagination wander a
little too far.

As Scully turned to lock her door she took a moment to reflect on her
partner's better-than-everyday look. For a man who could wear a common
G-Man
suit and make it look good, he could make a tux stand up and sing! His
hair
was still damp from the shower, purposefully mussed. He'd never admit
it,
but he liked to be someone else when he was away from the Bureau, away
from
the all-encompasing Files. Scully knew. He had a brightness in his
usually
intent hazel eyes. He was actually enjoying himself.

Scully turned her full attention to Mulder. He stood there in the
hallway,
hands in his pockets, nonchalant. He exuded sexual energy. So much style
and
charm, he was practically dripping with it. He smelled of expensive
cologne.
No doubt something his mother had bought for him. She took in the
perfect
drape of his tailored jacket, and how his pants fit--just right. If
she'd
just let him walk a step in front of her, she could take in a great
show.

Scully stopped herself. What was she thinking? She held her arm out to
him
like a lady, and he took it like the perfect gentleman. The walked down
the
hallway together. Co-workers. Partners. Friends. Someday, who knew where
a
bit of formal wear intoxication could take them.

end. for now.....