From: "Diadem" Date: Wed, 2 Dec 1998 17:25:38 -0000 Subject: Househunting (1/1) by Diadem Title: Househunting Author: Diadem Rating: G? Pretty general. Category: S, H. Disclaimer: They are not mine. They belong to CC, Fox, 10-13, DD and GA. I am making no money from this, but if I did, I would spend it all on XF videos anyway! Archive: Gossamer, yes, all others let me know. Notes: Yes, I know! This is totally out of character, but I loved the Mulder we saw at the end of Chinga, so this is more "Clueless-Mulder," cause I think he is cute! Feedback: Of course: Diadem@cwcom.net Househunting By Diadem It had been a bad week. Fox Mulder offered up a silent prayer that it was Friday as he stepped out of the elevator. It was somehow fitting, he thought, that the pile of folders he was carrying should slip and scatter themselves all over the corridor. He bent to gather them up again, but forgot all about the files when he heard a scream from his office. Crashing through the door at full speed, he spun towards his partner's desk. Dana Scully was looking unharmed, if somewhat distraught. She was clicking like a woman possessed at her lap top, which was open on her desk. "Scully?" Maybe she had been sent something via e-mail. She narrowed her eyes and stared at him. "What?" Uh oh, thought Mulder. That time of the month again. "I, um, heard a scream. Was that you?" "Yes." She turned her attention back to the computer screen. "Why?" It may have been a stupid question, but if she was going mad, he really ought to do something about it. She lifted her head and stared at him again, as though he were crazy. "OK Mulder." She began. "Let's start at the beginning shall we?" He nodded, and perched himself on the edge of his own desk, waiting expectantly. "OK then. Today is Friday." That was true. He had checked his calendar himself that morning. She continued. "Monday was fine. I quite liked Monday. Tuesday, however, we got stuck in a high-tech genetics lab, which, I'll agree with you, was involved in illegal activity, but it was also about to explode. The result of which was this." She pulled her foot out from under the desk, revealing the clean white cast that currently held the two halves of her ankle together. Oh. That. "Scully, I said I was sorry..." "Yes." She conceded. "You did. However, by Wednesday, you'd decided to be helpful, and drive my car back to my place for me, seeing as I am indisposed." Yep, he remembered that too. Oh. Right. That. "But, sometime during the five minute drive, you somehow managed to wrap it round a tree." Yeah. Like he needed reminding. "That was Wednesday." She counted off the offending days on her fingers. "Thursday. You still with me, Mulder?" He nodded. He couldn't speak. Scully was telling him off. It wasn't worth speaking. "Thursday morning you see me struggling out of a cab with a dry cleaning bag. It is the suit, one of my best suits, that I had worn to visit the genetics Lab. Needless to say, it required cleaning. So you offered to get it done for me. Do you remember what you did Mulder?" Only a tactful silence could suffice. "You put it through the washing machine, didn't you, Mulder?" She paused. "And now it is Friday. I have had one hell of a week." Another pause as she stared hard at him. "And now," her voice rose to the point of hysteria. "I can't even beat the bloody computer! At Solitare!" Mulder could only stare as she dropped her head to the desk. "Oh, and Mulder?" She asked, without moving her head. "Yeah?" Monosylables were good, he thought. "If I want my apartment burning down, I'll let you know." The rest of the afternoon passed in silence. It was probably better that way, Mulder reflected. OK, so the week hadn't gone too well, for either of them, but it seemed that Scully was taking it badly. She is the one with the broken ankle, the little voice in his head piped up. If Mulder had been listening, he may have been worried by the fact that he was hearing voices. If he had mentioned it to anyone else, they would certainly have been worried: probably to the degree of giving him a nice new coat with the sleeves sewn together around the back of the neck. But Mulder wasn't worried. He was trying to think of a way to be nice to Scully. Preferably without injuring her any more than he had already. Because, he rationalised, face it. It probably was his fault. Scully had left early, prefering, for some reason, to take a cab, rather than accept his offer of a lift home. The office was boring without her. He had no one to annoy. His files were all neatly organised, although Scully would probably disagree with him on that one. His pencils were all sharp. His paperclips were all linked together. So were Scully's. He had nothing to do. Three hours later, he still had nothing to do. He had even washed the dishes from last week and done his laundry. Lying on his couch, he regarded his video collection carefully. The idea was appealing, if only he could be bothered to move. With a sigh, he reached for the remote, resigning himself to an evening of channel surfing. After years of practice, he had got channel surfing down to a fine art: if he concentrated, he could change the channel every third of a second, and not process what he had seen until five seconds later. Others might call him strange, but it kept him amused. It was as a result of his finely honed skill that by the time he had registered what was on CNN, he was thirty channels along. Flipping back, he stared at the screen in disbelief. He made it to Scully's apartment in record time: unfortunately, so had half the population of DC and the surrounding area. Flashing his ID, he ran up to a nearby police constable. He was nearly frantic. The flames had already consumed all but the top floor of the building. "Did they get everybody out?" He asked the constable. The young man stared at him, uncomprehending Mulder's words. "Did they get everybody out!" Mulder screamed. "There was a woman, she had a broken ankle, she may not..." Suddenly, a light seemed to go on in the police officer's head. "Oh yeah. She got out. She's FBI too." He added helpfully. "Where is she?" The relief he felt was incredible. He was also relieved that he had been nowhere near the building, and could not possibly be blamed for the fire. "Last I saw she was organising the fire department." The man turned, and walked away. That was Scully alright. Pocketing his ID, Mulder headed for the first fire truck he laid eyes on. There were two paramedics nearby, one attending a casualty, the other apparently awaiting further instructions. "Excuse me." He addressed the unoccupied paramedic. "Have you seen a woman, red hair, short, angry?" "I'm not that short!" Came an indignant voice from under the second paramedic. "And I said I'd let you know!" "Is this man bothering you, ma'am?" Asked the paramedic. "Yes." she answered. "But I'm kinda used to it." She stood, and hobbled over to him. "What are you doing here, Mulder?" "CNN." He answered. "Are you OK?" "Well, this just about seems to top off my perfect week." she gestured towards the building. "I don't know what to do!" She buried her face in her hands as Mulder pulled her into his arms. "Any luck with the apartment hunting, Scully?" It was two weeks later, and things were almost back to normal. Scully was staying with an old college friend while she looked for a new apartment. During lunchbreaks, she pulled out piles Estate Agent's cards, spread them over her desk, and tried to reach a decision, while Mulder sat and made useful suggestions. One such suggestion, that she should make sure any vents were as small as possible, had been met with her "it must be nice to live in your little world, Mulder" look. He had thought it a reasonable idea, considering that there was a whole world of monsters and extra-terrestrials just waiting to crawl through heating vents. "Not really." She replied. "I was kind of hoping I could get a house, but I really can't afford it on my own, and no one wants to share with Mrs Spooky." She sat back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. "And can you blame them?" "Come on, Scully." He consoled her. "You are not that bad." He had thought he was being helpful. "I know that, Mulder." She was giving him that look again. "But would you want to share a house with someone whose last apartment burned down in the same week she broke her ankle and got her car smashed up?" She plucked at a paperclip. For some reason she was not surprised when the whole pile lifted with it. Come on Mulder, you know the answer to this one, he told himself. "Probably not." He admitted. One look at her face told him that he probably hadn't known the answer after all. Uh oh. Need an escape plan. Fast. "Won't be a minute." he reassured her, as he fled the office. Four hours later, he realised that a minute had been a bit optimistic. Deciding to bypass the office (face it, she wouldn't still be there at 7:30pm), he headed straight for her friend's house. He pulled up just as Scully was paying the cab driver. Racing around, he took her briefcase and lap top bag from her. "Mulder, what are you doing here?" She deftly snatched back her briefcase. "I waited a full sixty minutes after you left, but then I decided to come home." Oops, there went the lap top bag too. "Well, as near to a home as I've got at the moment." She started up the driveway. "I'm sorry." An apology always worked when coupled with the puppy dog look. He could see her relenting even before she turned around. She didn't stand a chance. "Will you let me take you out to dinner? Somewhere nice?" "I don't know Mulder. I still have two hundred and five bones still intact, and I'd sort of like to keep them that way." But she was smiling. Always a good sign. "Please?" Bottom lip out all the way. Never fails. "Alright, alright. Just let me dump my stuff." She turned away. "Oh, and Mulder? Wait in the car, OK? I like this neighbourhood." "Mulder, for the last time, WHERE ARE WE???" The suspense was killing her, he could tell. "Please tell me you are not driving around looking for the seediest diner in the world?" "I'm not driving around looking for the seediest diner in the world." He assured her. "Just a couple more minutes." "That's what you said half an hour ago." she grumbled. "Yeah," he grinned in the darkness. "But this time I'm not lying!" True to his word, two minutes later Mulder pulled up in front of a rather dilapidated looking cottage. It was white-washed, and had a straggly creeping rose running around the front door. It looked like it belonged in England in the nineteen thirties, not in Maryland in the nineties. "Mulder." The warning voice. "This doesn't look like a restaurant." "I never said I was taking you to a restaurant." He helped her out of the car. "I said I was taking you someplace nice." He dig around in his pocket, produced a key, and opened the front door of the cottage, ushering her inside. "Tell me it isn't haunted." She demanded. "Not that I know of." He paused for daramtic effect. "Dana Katherine Scully, welcome to your new home! Oh, by the way, you owe me forty thousand dollars." "Mulder..." Now that he thought about it, that cast could probably inflict a lot of pain. "What have you done?" "I bought you the perfect house." He flicked the lightswitch to reveal a rather dusty living room. The wall paper was peeling and the paint was flaking. "Well, it needs a bit of fixing up, but it WILL be perfect." "I bought a house, and you didn't tell me?" The situation was turning nasty. Now would be a good time to play his trump card. "You said you wanted a house, but no one would share with Mrs Spooky." He KNEW he had that part right. "So who better to share with than Mr Spooky himself?" "This isn't happening..." she muttered. "Oh no, it's nothing like that, Scully. Separate rooms, and everything." No point in scaring her off now. "Mulder, you said you were taking me out for dinner, but now I find that..." "That's right." He interrupted. He opened the door on his right, and pulled her through into... "Oh!" THAT shut her up! "Oh, Mulder, it's gorgeous!" She wandered round the brand new kitchen, touching, opening cupboards, exclaiming over the meal that was already underway on the stove. "I can't believe you did this." "You like the house?" Scully's approval was what he craved most of all. "The house... is interesting." She rubbed her head. "Oh, what the hell. I'll think about the house in the morning. For now, I just want to eat." YES! She liked it! Stay calm. "Wine?" She shook her head, not quite believing the situation she had found herself in. "I think I'd better." END Well? Let me know what you thought, at Diadem@cwcom.net Any sequels will definitely turn into MSR!!