********************************************************************* This author's e-mail address has changed to: xanaduxf@yahoo.com ********************************************************************* ***DISCLAIMER***: All "X-Files" elements and references in this story belong to Fox Broadcasting, Chris Carter, and 1013 Productions, and I am making no money from it. ========== The Joke by shannono shannono@iname.com Story, Angst, Humor, Mulder/Scully Romance Rated PG-13 Spoilers: "Detour" Summary: Mulder and Scully plan a prank on their co-workers at the office Christmas party, but before the night's over, the joke's turned serious. ========== The Joke by shannono Fox Mulder and Dana Scully worked silently in their shared basement office, the only noises coming from the steady clicking of computer keys. The two FBI agents were working late on yet another Friday, tying up yet another not-quite-explained case, this one involving either a possibly rabid raccoon or astral projection, depending on whose report you believed. Mulder finished first, hitting a key to save the document. He didn't bother to print it; he knew his boss, Assistant Director Walter Skinner, wouldn't want to read it, anyway. Leaning back in his chair and turning toward his partner, he watched her work for a few long moments before reaching for the stack of long- ignored memos sitting on top of a leaning tower of books and paper. He started leafing through idly, alternately grimacing and smirking at the standard updates, changes, and clarifications of correct FBI "procedure." Many of those memos had been dictated solely for him, he knew. Some things never changed. He was about the drop the whole mess in the trash can when one of the sheets toward the end of the stack caught his eye. The subject line on this one read "Holiday party," and as his eyes moved over the page, he realized the FBI headquarters Christmas party was the next night. He considered. Office parties were usually tedious affairs, populated as they were by people forced together by their jobs, rather than drawn together by friendship. But it had been a taxing couple of weeks, and a little holiday cheer might be a welcome respite. He certainly couldn't expect invitations to many "friendly" seasonal celebrations. His only real friend sat across the room from him, and she wasn't exactly the type to throw a big Christmas bash. A seed of an idea slowly formed at the back of his mind. No, Scully wasn't likely to be giving parties ... but maybe she'd go to one -- with the right persuasion, of course. He rehearsed his approach in his mind as she completed, proofread, saved, and printed her own report -- the one Skinner would accept, as usual. As she shut down her computer, he said, "Hey, Scully," rising from his chair to lean against his desk. "You going to the office party tomorrow night?" She turned toward him, a quizzical look on her face. "Don't know," she said. "Don't tell me you're considering it. You hate those things." "Yeah, I know," he said, shrugging. "But I had an idea for how to liven things up ..." "Mulder," Scully interrupted, flashing him a warning look. "No, no, it's harmless, I promise," he rushed to reassure her. "Just a little, um, prank to make it a little more interesting, that's all." Scully sighed resignedly. "All right," she said. "What's this idea?" Mulder lifted one corner of his mouth and tilted his head slightly to one side. "We go to the party ... together." Scully froze. "What exactly do you mean by *together*?" she asked stiffly. Mulder moved toward her, lifted his hands protectively in front of him. "Nothing major," he said. "We just pretend to be on a date -- you know, sit together, dance, that sort of thing." She raised one eyebrow. "And for what reason?" He stopped a few feet from her and planted his hands on his hips. "For the fun of it," he said in an exasperated tone. "To see how everyone else reacts." He smirked again. "Would I really be that horrible a date?" "You tell me," she retorted, turning her back to him and starting to gather up her papers. "Besides, what makes you think *we* could cause such a stir?" "C'mon," he said, an almost pleading tone seeping into his voice. "Spooky and The Ice Queen? They'd have a field day with it!" He laughed lightly. "Anyway, it's a good opportunity to party at the government's expense for a change." She shot him another look, but then her face relaxed into something approximating a smile. "Point conceded," she said, pulling on her coat and grabbing her purse and briefcase. She started toward the door, but before he could launch back into his wheedling, she threw back over her shoulder, "Seven sharp, don't be late." She paused with her hand on the door to shoot him a wicked grin, then was gone. ========== Once Mulder picked his jaw up off the floor, his mind started racing through to the following night. The party was described on the memo as "semi-formal," a term that meant about nothing to him. He'd play it safe, he thought, gathering his own briefcase and coat and heading for the elevators. The new charcoal gray pinstriped suit he hadn't worn yet; she had always seemed to like one similar to it. And a white shirt would do as a concession to the formality of the occasion. But what tie to wear? He mentally filed through his extensive collection, selecting and rejecting various paisley prints, boring solids, and the dozens of novelty designs. he thought as he walked through the dimly lit parking garage to his car. ========== Scully was also lost in thought as the climbed into her own car and headed for home. She had seen the party memo the week before but had pushed it to the back of her mind until Mulder brought it up. Now, she considered what she could wear as she negotiating the dying rush-hour traffic. She hated the "semi-formal" sticker everyone seemed to use these days; it always made her picture jeans and tuxedo jackets, or silk skirts with worn-out T-shirts. She considered her own wardrobe, mentally discarding the few "dressy" outfits she owned as too fancy, too skimpy, or too old. She sighed, decided she would have to fight the holiday crowds the next day and find something appropriate. she told herself, ========== Saturday dawned clear and bright, throwing beams of sunlight across Mulder's face as he lay on his sofa. Blinking at the assault on his senses, he said out loud, "I have *got* to start closing those blinds at night." Pushing himself upright, he checked the watch he'd placed on the coffee table the night before -- 8 a.m. he thought. "Must be a record," he muttered as he stood and headed for the shower. ========== Scully punched at her alarm, shutting it off as soon as it started blaring at 8. She laid back on the pillows with her hands behind her head, staring at the ceiling. She'd been awake for nearly a half-hour already, but she hadn't yet felt like climbing from under the covers. Sighing, she shoved the blankets and comforter aside, shivering slightly as the cool air hit her bare legs. She slid her feet into her slippers and reached for her robe, wrapping it tightly around her as she padded to the kitchen for breakfast. After she ate, she returned to the bedroom and picked out jeans and a sweater for her shopping trip before crossing to the bathroom. She turned on the space heater and then the shower, then stripped and stepped under the warm spray. As she washed, her thoughts ran again through her conversation with Mulder the evening before. she thought, Unwilling to consider the subject any further, she shut off the water, reached for a towel and dried herself off before wrapping another towel around her head and her robe around her body. She stepped back into her bedroom, then nearly jumped as the phone rang. She sat on the side of the bed as she answered, "Hello?" "Scully," Mulder's familiar voice came through. "What're you wearing?" She froze, then looked down at her robe. "Excuse me?" she asked. "What am I wearing? Now?" A pause, then a chuckle came from the other end of the line. "Boy, have you got a dirty mind," Mulder chided. "I meant tonight -- but you're more than welcome to elaborate on your current state of dress." Scully felt herself flush. Embarrassed, she said, "Dream on, Mulder. And I don't know what I'm wearing tonight, although I don't know why it matters that much." "You do want your corsage to match, don't you?" Mulder teased, and Scully relaxed, chuckling a bit herself. He continued, "Seriously -- well, sort of -- I just thought we'd pull off the scam a little easier if we didn't clash too horribly." "True," Scully replied. "Well, I still don't know, but I'll probably go with something Christmasy, maybe green or red. I'm really not sure." Mulder sighed in mock frustration. "Okay, you're not giving me much to go on, but I'll do my best." He paused, then took on a teasing tone again. "By the way, Scully, I'm wearing ..." "Good-*bye*, Mulder," she said, and hung up on him. ========== Scully walked through the crowded mall, already tired and tense after less than 30 minutes of shopping. This was never her favorite pastime anyway, and the hordes of holiday shoppers didn't make it any easier. She looked a little further down the row of storefronts and spotted a familiar name on one of the specialty boutiques. She remembered buying a dress there a year or so ago for a family party, and decided to give the shop another try. ========== Mulder did his best to control his frustration, but he kept finding himself caught behind clumps of apparent window shoppers, constantly slowing to "ooh" and "aah" at the festive displays in each shop. He sidestepped another such group and actually found a clear path ahead, striding down the mall toward the specialty store he'd visited before. "Ties-R-Us," he jokingly called the place; it had every shape, style, color, and pattern of tie he could think of, and a lot he couldn't. A good portion of his extensive -- and eccentric -- wardrobe had come from the store, and he had decided to try his luck there first. He swerved around another clump of shoppers and headed into the small shop. ========== Scully stood before the triple mirrors in the boutique's dressing room, staring in surprise at her own reflection. She wore a silk dress in a creamy shade of purple -- something like lilac, she supposed. The fitted dress ended just above her knees; the long sleeves just brushed her wrists. And the neckline, which formed a wide "V" in front and back, hit the perfect note, revealing a little skin without crossing any boundaries of professional behavior. She turned slowly, inspecting the dress from all sides as the salesgirl watched, smiling. Scully turned back to the mirror and said, "I can't pass this up. It's perfect." The salesgirl's smile widened. "I knew it was yours the moment you walked in," she said. "The color is wonderful for you." Scully had to agree. She'd been thinking red or green, as she'd told Mulder, but then the girl had led her to this dress, and Scully knew it was the one. As she changed back into her jeans, she thought briefly about that conversation with her partner. He'd probably end up with a Christmas print tie, but that would have to be okay. she thought as she gathered up the dress and left the fitting room. ========== Mulder browsed the dozens of racks in the small shop, stopping now and then to inspect one more closely. He'd already checked out -- and rejected -- the two dozen or so holiday styles the store had in stock, but he wasn't finding anything else, either. "May I help you find something, sir?" Mulder almost jumped at the sudden voice from near his left elbow. He turned to face a very young but eager-looking salesman, ready to refuse the offer, but then he reconsidered. "Actually, maybe you can," he said. "I'm trying to find something for a holiday party, but I didn't find anything I like in your Christmas section." "Is it a formal party, sir?" "Well, the memo said 'semi-formal,' for all that means," Mulder replied. "I'm taking my partner -- long story -- but I don't know what she's wearing, other than it's supposed to be Christmasy." The salesman considered, then said, "I may have something that would work -- something a little different. Could you follow me, sir?" "Sure," Mulder said, curious, and they walked further back into the store. ========== Scully paid for the dress, made sure it was secure in the plastic bag, then headed back down the mall toward her car. Luckily, she already had a pair of cream-colored pumps and hose, which the salesgirl had suggested she wear with the dress. Scully didn't think she'd survive much longer in these crowds. As she walked on, she passed a shop filled with what must have been thousands of ties. she thought, smiling slightly as she turned toward the exit. ========== Mulder was paying for his purchase when a flash of bright red hair caught his eye. He looked up just in time to see Scully passing the entrance, a slight smile on her face and a dress bag over her arm. He briefly considered chasing her down and grilling her about her purchase, but he decided to go ahead with what he'd found. If they clashed, hey, it wouldn't be the end of the world. ========== Back home from her trip to the mall, Scully made a quick sandwich for lunch, then spent the rest of the afternoon doing housework and laundry. The time passed quickly, and she decided at five to relax with a bath before dressing for the party. She soaked for nearly a half-hour, then emerged from the bathroom and started gathering her clothes, laying everything out on the bed. She dried her hair, then started on her makeup, adding a bit more blush and mascara than she normally wore. Then she dressed, slowly, sliding the new dress up her body and zipping it into place. She looked in the mirror with a critical eye, then decided her hair needed a little more work. ========== At precisely seven o'clock, to Scully's amazement, her doorbell rang. Slipping her feet into her shoes and taking one last glance in the mirror, she walked to the door and peeped out; Mulder's familiar face, as she expected. She drew back the lock opened the door -- and froze in shock. It was Mulder, all right, his coat over his arm, wearing a charcoal gray pinstriped suit she couldn't remember seeing before, with a crisp white dress shirt. And a tie. A *purple* tie, in graduated shades, light at the top and darker at the bottom. The lighter color was an exact match to her dress. She also took in the pocket square, in the same shades as the tie; he was holding a single, cream-colored, long-stemmed rose. Mulder was similarly frozen in place, his smile half-formed on his face. His mind registered the matching colors as his eyes drank in her appearance. The color of the dress brought a glow to her creamy skin, and her brilliant red hair was caught up on top of her head in an intricate pile, a few tendrils curling along her cheeks and neck. His eyes slowly moved down her body, taking in the form- fitting style of the dress, then returned to capture hers. She found her voice first, but all she could force out was, "Hi." He swallowed. "Hi, yourself," he said. Then, "Oh, this is for you," holding out the rose. She took it, then stepped back from the door and waved her arm. "Come on in," she said, working to steady her voice and knees. "I need to get my coat and purse, and put this in water," she managed to say, and he stepped over the threshold and pushed the door shut behind him, his eyes never leaving her. Scully's mind raced as she returned to her bedroom for her purse. Had he seen her at the mall? she wondered. But she'd been at the back of the store, and the dress had been wrapped up when she left. So how had he known? She remembered the rose and, picking up an empty vase she had left on her dresser the day before, stepped into the bathroom to fill it with water. She placed the rose in the vase and set it back on the dresser, then paused, and bent to smell deeply of its sweet scent. She stayed there a moment, her eyes closed; then, she picked up her purse and returned to the living room. Mulder still stood where she had left him. She moved to the closet and reached for her coat; as she pulled it out, he stepped forward to help her put it on, and she murmured her thanks. Mulder stepped away, then finally spoke. "I guess great minds think alike," he said lightly. Scully felt herself relax, surprised to find her muscles had been tense. "Actually, I have the salesgirl to thank," she said, picking up her purse from the table where she'd placed it. "She's the one who pointed out the dress." "She has excellent taste," he replied, his eyes still intense on her. "But then, the cover isn't much good without the book." She looked at him, but he had already stepped to open the door. "Shall we?" he said, that familiar half-smile crossing this face, and she felt herself returning the smile. ========== The drive to the hotel where the party was set took only 20 minutes, and the conversation was easy and light. Mulder asked about Scully's Christmas plans -- she was spending the day with her mother and brother, as he expected. Scully was a little more surprised to hear that Mulder would also be spending the day with his mother -- "She called and pleaded, so how could I refuse," he explained, somewhat sheepishly. When Mulder pulled the car to a stop in the hotel's parking lot, Scully automatically reached for the door handle, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Hey, this is supposed to be a date, remember," he said, his eyes twinkling. "We've got to make it look good." At that, he climbed out of the car and strode around to her side. Opening the door with a flourish, he extended his hand and helped her from her seat. Pausing, he shut the door, then placed a hand at the small of her back and guided her toward the door. ========== The hotel's main ballroom was bright with the glow of thousands of tiny white lights, entwined around every plant and rail and crisscrossing the walls and ceilings. Round tables covered with white and gold print cloths lined the walls, but the center of the floor remained clear, forming a large dance floor. On one end of the room, a small chamber music group was settling into their seats, ready to provide the music for the night. Mulder and Scully paused in the entrance to leave their coats, then stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of the room. Then Mulder reached for her hand, pulled it up to his side, and tucked it through his arm. "Ready?" he said, smiling a bit too broadly. Tempted to shoot a reproachful look his way, Scully instead just raised an eyebrow slightly as she returned the smile. "As ready as I'll ever be," she replied. The started around the room, smiling and nodding intermittently as they saw various colleagues already seated. Scully felt their eyes following them and, leaning toward Mulder, whispered, "Well, we're definitely attracting attention." Mulder's smile grew impossibly broader, and he whispered back, "Let the game begin!" They stopped at a small, empty table with just two chairs, and Mulder turned to her. "Is this all right?" he asked in a solicitous tone, slightly louder than he really needed to. This time she did shoot that look, although the smile remained in place. "Yes, it's fine," she replied. He slid his hand down her arm, catching and squeezing her hand before releasing it and stepping over to pull out her chair. Once she was settled, he pulled the other chair near hers and sat down, turning slightly so he faced her. Then his smile softened as he leaned forward to touch one red tendril beside her ear, and he said, "Your hair looks nice like that." Scully blushed and looked away, then said, "Thank you. And thank you for the rose; it's beautiful, and it smells wonderful." Mulder leaned away slightly, his eyes never leaving hers, as a slightly embarrassed look crossed his face. "You're welcome," he said softly. "It just reminded me of you ..." Scully felt herself tensing up again and made a conscious effort to find another subject. Looking around, she spotted Skinner walking through the door, alone. "Hey," she said lightly, nudging Mulder with her elbow. "If it isn't your favorite person." Mulder followed her eyes and spotted Skinner at the door. he thought, as Skinner looked their way. Scully's head was still turned away from him, so Mulder lifted his hand and ran a finger along her jawline. Startled, Scully turned back his way, then saw the devilish gleam in his eyes and relaxed again, half smiling. Leaning toward him, she placed one hand possessively on his knee and whispered, "Going for Skinner first, are we?" His smile flashed again as his hand covered hers. "Absolutely," he said, lifting her hand to his face and brushing the knuckles with his lips. A thrill shot through her at the caress. Confused, she withdrew her hand, turning to pick up the water glass on the table and take a sip. She noted the hand was shaking and quickly replaced the glass. Glancing sideways at Mulder, she saw a slightly dazed look on his face, but it was quickly replaced with another small smile. "So, seen any good movies lately?" he said. Scully forced herself to relax and returned the smile. "Nothing like your standard choices," she replied, eliciting a soft laugh from her partner, and the spell was broken. ========== For the next hour, Scully and Mulder kept themselves occupied with eating, greeting various co-workers, meeting spouses and dates, and making general small talk. Their close proximity and color coordination drew some strange looks and an occasional comment, but they managed to deflect the inquiries without denying anything. Finally, Skinner rose from the head table and stepped to the microphone before the chamber ensemble, which had been playing soft background music during dinner. He motioned for them to stop; when they had, he spoke briefly, thanking the staffers for coming and encouraging them to enjoy the evening. Then he declared jokingly that "the dance floor is now open for business" and stepped down to a round of laughter. The ensemble immediately resumed playing, a little louder than before, starting with a smooth rendition of "White Christmas." As several couples started moving toward the open floor, Mulder looked at Scully expectantly, then stood and offered his hand. "Dance?" he asked, smiling. A warning bell went off somewhere in Scully's head, but she dismissed it, returning the smile. "I'd love to," she said, taking his hand as they rose. They walked toward the floor hand-in-hand, drawing even more curious glances and whispers. Mulder pulled her closer to his side again and leaned down to whisper, "Showtime!" ========== So they danced, smiling and talking among the other happy couples but seemingly oblivious to the crowd. Their playful whispers and soft laughter only served to draw more attention, until nearly every eye in the room was on them. They made an attractive couple, him tall and handsome, her petite and beautiful, their matching attire only enhancing the picture. Gradually, though, Scully became aware of the stares, and she took a furtive look around. "Uh, Mulder ..." she started. "Yeah, I know," he said, tugging her a little closer and smiling down at her. "This is working out perfectly, isn't it?" A smile slowly spread across her face, and she slid her hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck. "I guess it is," she agreed. ========== A couple of songs later, they took a break, walking hand-in- hand again as they returned to their table. He pulled out her chair again, but she shook her head slightly and picked up her purse. "I need to visit the ladies' room," she said, touching his arm lightly and turning to go. She was stopped by a hand on her arm. Turning back, she met Mulder's eyes and felt her knees weaken at what she saw there. "Don't be long," he whispered, then slowly released her. She was surprised to discover that her legs still worked, and she crossed the room to the restrooms on automatic pilot, glad no one tried to speak to her along the way. Inside the tiled room, she took several deep breaths to steady herself. This was *not* what she'd had in mind when she agreed to this "date." She should have expected the stares; that was part of the idea. But what she hadn't anticipated was this ... *feeling* she had, like she could have stayed on the dance floor forever, with him. This was dangerous territory, she knew. Yes, there had always been something between them, running just below the surface, and there had been moments when she had felt it rising toward the forefront. But they had never tried to analyze the connection, and they had certainly never acted on it. She had tried to assume it was just the close proximity of their work and the many dangerous situations they had found themselves in. But she had finally had to admit that, whatever it was, it had been there from the moment they met. Pushing her thoughts aside, she stepped to the mirror and busied herself with checking her makeup, fluffing her hair, reapplying her lipstick. As she straightened her dress, though, her thoughts returned to the game she and Mulder were playing with their co-workers. It might be a game right now, but she knew it could turn on them in an instant if they weren't careful. And she didn't want to consider the consequences if it did. ========== Mulder watched her walk away from him toward the restrooms, slowly sinking into his seat. Why had he said that? he wondered. It wasn't part of the joke; certainly, no one had heard him, although some people might have seen his hand on her arm and the serious look on his face. He reached for his glass, took a sip of water, then replaced the glass and ran a hand through his hair. Glancing around, he noticed faces quickly turning away and suppressed a smile. Yes, they were definitely accomplishing what they set out to do; the whole room was buzzing at the prospect of the two agents on a date. Something wasn't quite right, though, he knew. He was enjoying the thought of playing with his co-workers like this, pulling off a terrific prank that he and Scully could laugh about privately. But when they were on the dance floor, his hand on her waist and her hand in his, all thoughts of the joke faded from his mind, and he found himself thinking only about her. His eyes closed at the memory of her sparkling blue eyes, her glowing skin, her shining hair, her body so close to his. He could have stayed there all night. His mind jolted at the thought, and his eyes flew open. he thought, his muscles contracting automatically. For months, he'd believed he'd buried his feelings deeply enough that even he had forgotten them. But now everything rose to the surface -- the bolt of energy he'd felt when their eyes met for the first time, the touch of her hand on his back in the Arctic chill, her concern as she held him at his mother's bedside, their embrace in a hospital hallway -- and all his senses warned of danger. He shook himself involuntarily, grabbing for his water again and taking several big gulps before pressing the glass back into the table. He had to control himself, control the emotions that washed over him. This was *Scully,* his partner, not some woman he'd picked up in a bar. He respected her intellect and expertise, trusted her implicitly, valued her friendship above everything. How could he even think of doing anything that might endanger all that? He closed his eyes again and managed to calm himself, pushing his emotions back to the farthest reaches of his mind -- and hoping they'd stay there when she returned. ========== Scully emerged from the ladies' room and nearly crashed headlong into Skinner, who was approaching the men's room at the same time. She smiled, an apology on her lips, when he said, "Excuse me, Agent Scully; I didn't see you," then laughed softly and slightly self-consciously. "Of course, I'm sure your mind was elsewhere ..." he said, glancing over his shoulder in Mulder's direction. He turned back to her, holding her startled gaze for a long moment, then continued past her. Scully knew what that look meant. She'd seen it often enough when she'd tried to explain another of Mulder's spontaneous trips or mysterious conclusions to their boss. Skinner was sending a gentle warning, reminding her silently of the FBI's opinion of relationships between partners. A friendly date was one thing, but this looked like something entirely different, she knew. She took another long, steadying breath before turning back toward the table. She caught his eye almost immediately as she moved forward and recognized the guarded expression behind his smile. He'd seen her brief interaction with Skinner and realized its meaning as she did. He rose as she approached, again holding her chair as she sat back down, then returning to his seat, staying a bit farther away than before. He smiled again, then said in a low voice, "Let me guess. Skinner's ... concerned about our 'date,' right?" She exhaled softly and glanced around before replying. "He didn't say it in so many words, but ..." "But he is," Mulder finished for her. "I could see it on his face when he looked at me." He sighed and shook his head, then looked back at her. "I guess we should let him in on the joke, huh?" Scully looked at him and started to agree, but something stopped her. She paused, then heard herself say, "Wait a minute." Mulder looked at her in surprise, and she continued, "This is a joke, after all. Why not play it out, then talk to Skinner on Monday to explain?" Mulder was shocked. His proper, rational, by-the-book partner was suggesting they continue their prank, even at the risk of angering their boss? What had gotten into her? He didn't know, but he liked it. Scully shifted uncomfortably under Mulder's stare. "Well, say something," she said, looking away. A mischievous smile slowly crept across Mulder's face. "Why, Agent Scully, I didn't think you had it in you," he said playfully. She looked up in surprise, and their eyes met again. The smile slowly faded from Mulder's face, replaced by something else entirely as he leaned toward her. Scully's eyes flickered, involuntarily, to his mouth, then back to his eyes, which darkened several shades at her reaction. Her breathing quickened as his face neared hers, then stopped just a few inches away. He lifted a finger and brushed it along her jawline, his eyes moving to watch his hand, then slowly returning to hers as his hand moved lightly across her hair and came to rest at the nape of her neck. Her hand lifted from her lap of its own volition and slid onto his knee as she reflexively leaned into him. They paused for a long moment, searching each other's eyes, and found what they were looking for. Then they moved together again, his other hand sliding to her waist as hers lifted toward his shoulder, and their lips met for the first time. The kiss was tentative at first, tantalizing, just a light touch that nonetheless sent sparks through them both. They briefly parted, their eyes still locked, and then they kissed again, deeper this time, their eyes closing as their lips parted to allow their tongues through for a moment. Slowly, they broke the contact and opened their eyes, their gazes meeting again. Their breathing was ragged as they drew their hands away and slid apart, but still their eyes were locked together. Scully broke the contact first, dropping her eyes to her hands where they lay in folded in her lap. Her breathing was returning to normal, but nothing could erase the memory of his lips on hers, his hand on her hair. She chanced a glance at him and caught him still staring at her, his eyes still dark with an emotion she couldn't quite place -- Fear? Longing? Desire? She tried to shake off the thought, but it remained, and suddenly, she *knew.* He wanted her. Badly. As badly as she wanted him, she realized, finally admitting what she'd been feeling for a long time. Her breath came more rapidly again as she carefully avoided his eyes, reaching again for a drink of water. The silence lengthened, growing more uncomfortable, until finally she felt him relax his muscles and exhale softly. He leaned toward her again, and she had to fight a sudden urge to pull away, but he simply touched her arm and said lightly, "I'm going to the little boys' room, okay?" "Sure, fine," she said, cutting off before she let herself say "whatever." He had started to rise from his seat when something gave way inside her and she looked up at him. Her eyes darkening this time, she repeated his earlier statement: "Don't be long." Mulder stopped where he was, halfway standing, captured by the glow on her face and the look in her eyes, and then *he* knew. He lowered himself back into his seat, his eyes never leaving hers. He leaned toward her again, took her hand, and raised it to his lips again. She drew in her breath, her gaze intent on his, and he saw the flame leap into her eyes, the flame he could finally admit he'd been longing to see for so long. He rose slowly, lifting her from her seat, and pulled her close. Bending his dark head to her ear, he whispered, "No more games. Let's get out of here." A tremor ran through her at his words, and she looked up at him for a long moment. He watched her inner struggle quietly, patiently, but felt himself relax as her eyes gradually quieted. She held the gaze another moment, then turned back to the table. Picking up her purse, she turned back to him and took his hand. "I'm ready when you are," she said in a steady voice, belying the quaking she still felt inside. His eyes darkened again at her words, and he led her toward the door. ========== The ride to her apartment took place in silence, both of them watching the city go by outside the car. This was going to happen, they knew, but they also knew they needed to talk about it first. Neither knew quite how to start, though, so they waited, stealing glances at each other from time to time. The silence continued as he helped her from his car, keeping his keys in one hand as his other steered her inside. When they reached her door, he fumbled for his key, inserting it into the lock. Then he stopped, the door still locked; before she could ask, he turned to her and took both her hands in his. She looked at him, puzzled, and he said, "Scully, I know we need to talk ..." She nodded, dropping her eyes to their hands, entwined between them. "We do," she said, then lifted her eyes back to his. "But I want you to know, right now, that I want this. No matter what else we say." He smiled slowly, his relief evident, and he pulled her into his embrace. "I'm glad," he said into her hair. "And no matter what else we say, so do I." He released her, caught her eyes again for a moment, then turned back and unlocked the door, pushing it open for her to walk in. Automatically, she shrugged off her coat and hung it in the closet; then, almost as an afterthought, held out her hand for his and hung it there, too. She stood there for a moment, looking at the two coats, and realized how *right* his looked hanging there, in her closet. Then she looked at him, and realized how right it felt to have *him* there. The thought frightened her a bit; she could never have imagined feeling anything like what she felt for the man before her. The man staring back at her, with the same intensity she had seen directed at his work so many times before. She moved further into the living room, flicking on the lamp on the end table as she passed it, then turned back toward Mulder, still standing near the door. "Would you like something to drink?" she asked, a bit nervously. His mouth twisted up at one corner. "Whatever you're having," he said as he stepped forward. "I'll be back in a minute," she said, hurrying into the kitchen. ========== Mulder watched her go, then moved to the sofa, taking a seat on the edge of the cushions. Leaning forward, he placed his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together, his legs bouncing. With an effort, he stilled his legs, rubbing his hands along his knees, then leaned back into the cushions. What was wrong with him? he wondered. Here he was, 36 years old, acting like a nervous schoolkid on his first date. He couldn't remember ever feeling like this, and his spotless memory would surely recall it if he had. He stood again and paced for a few moments, then stopped and sat again, willing himself to relax. he thought. But that was the problem, he knew. This was *Scully,* his partner, his best friend, the only person he had ever completely trusted -- and who had ever really trusted him. If this didn't work, if she decided they were going to far, he'd be devastated, and their relationship would never be the same. Well, it would never be the same either way, but it would be more likely to suffer if this didn't work out. He remembered the feel of her lips on his, her hands on him, and closed his eyes. he thought, ========== In the kitchen, Scully pulled out a pitcher of tea, then reached for two glasses, her mind racing. Why did she still feel like running from him? she wondered. She'd already told him what she wanted, knew he wanted it, too. So what was the problem? She already knew that answer. *He* was the problem, or more specifically, the way she felt about him. That was what she was scared of -- that she cared for him too much, that she'd scare him away when they had their little "talk." She thought back through the five years of their partnership, remembering the arguments, the danger, and the losses they'd endured, and the quiet talks, the tender moments, and the dreams they'd shared. Everyone had written off their pairing as a lost cause from the beginning, never believing his fantastic beliefs would stand up to her scientific scrutiny. But they had surprised everyone, their differing views actually serving to balance each other out, giving them strength and stability as a team. They were still in danger, she knew; they probably always would be. The question was, would a more ... *intimate* relationship put them in any more danger? That was the unknown variable, the main thing she felt they had to discuss, and she hoped he had the answer. Because she didn't know if she could come this close to him and still go back to the way things were. He called her the strong one, but she doubted she had the strength for that. ========== He looked up as she returned to the living room, carrying two glasses in one hand and a pitcher in the other. He jumped up and took the glasses, setting them on the coffee table, then reached back for the tea. He poured, setting the bottle back on the table, and picked up the glasses, handing one to her. Their fingers brushed lightly; she drew away quickly, then murmured, "Thank you." They sipped silently for a few minutes, not meeting each other's eyes, until finally she set her glass down and turned on the sofa to face him, her hands in her lap. He looked at her when she moved, set down his own glass, and turned toward her. She spoke first. "Mulder, the first thing I want to say is that I care about you, as a partner and as a friend." When he started to speak, she held up one hand and said, "No, let me finish." She paused, then went on. "We've worked together for five years -- worked together well -- and the last thing I want to do is jeopardize our work." She paused again, looking down at her hands as she continued. "Having said that, I want you to know that, as of this moment, I don't want to go back to the way things were." She looked up and saw him watching her, his eyes quiet, waiting for her to go on. She did, saying, "I know it may be dangerous, for both of us, but I realized tonight that what I feel for you goes beyond a professional relationship, even beyond a friendship. I've denied it for a long time, but I can't do it any longer." She reached for his hands, pulling them toward her, and stared at them for a long moment. "These hands," she said, a smile crossing her face, "have become so much a part of my life." She laughed softly. "You probably think I haven't even noticed all the times you've put a hand to my back when we were going somewhere, like you were guiding me." She looked up at him, a wry grin tugging at one corner of her mouth. "I didn't like it at first, you know. Thought it was chauvinistic." She shrugged. "But I gradually realized it was just your way of letting me know you were right there with me, that you'd always be there." Mulder's eyes softened, and he slid a little closer on the couch. She looked him again, then looked away. "What I want to say, Mulder, is that I want it all. I want our partnership, want us to keep working together, keep the X-files going. I don't want that to change." She looked back at him. "But I also want *you.* All of you, and not as a partner, or a friend." She lifted her hands to his face. "I trust you, Mulder. But most of all, I love you." A spark leapt back into his eyes as her words sank in, and he reached up to brush back her hair before kissing her forehead, lightly. He pulled back and looked into her eyes again, then took her hands in his and placed them back in her lap before leaning back. He saw the question on her face and, lifting the corner of his mouth, said, "My turn." She smiled softly, and he started. "Scully -- Dana -- you of all people know how much effort I've put into the X-files, and all the reasons for it. You've seen everything I've seen, even if you didn't always see it the same way, and you've suffered for it. I know all you've lost since we started working together, and I want to tell you how sorry I am. I know I'm responsible, that none of this would have happened if we'd never met." She lifted her hand to his mouth to stop him. "Mulder," she started, but he drew her hand away. "I let you finish, Dana; now let me." She hesitated, then nodded, and he went on. "My ... *obsession* with the X-files came out of my sister's abduction, but it cost you your sister, three months of your life, maybe even your professional credibility." He swallowed and looked away. "I wouldn't have blamed you for a minute if you'd left me, left the X-files, after any of your losses. And I know we *are* still in danger. But I don't believe that will change anytime soon, no matter what happens between us." He reached for her hand again and went on: "But what I want you to know is, if you did leave ..." He caught her eyes. "If you did leave me, I wouldn't last very long. You make me strong." She smiled slowly, a radiant glow coming to her face, and he felt a surge of feeling as he finished, "I trust you, Dana Katherine Scully, completely and totally. And I love you, with all my heart." She slid closer to him, reaching for his face, and they kissed again, gently exploring each other. Slowly, they parted, and she spoke again, still holding his face in her hands. "Fox William Mulder ..." -- at this, he smiled -- "... you know I love you. And I want you to listen to me: I do not now and have never held you responsible for anything that has happened, to either of us, in the past five years. I know you blame yourself, and I don't know of any other way to convince you that it's not your fault." She laughed softly. "You're the psychologist; you tell me." His smile broadened. "Just keep telling me you love me, and maybe I'll get over it." They laughed as they melted together. ========== Scully awoke with a start and for a moment didn't know where she was or why. She should be used to the sensation, after nearly five years of hotel room mornings, but it still bothered her sometimes. And then she felt him shift under her, and she remembered: Mulder, pulling her close on the couch; her taking his hand, leading him to her bedroom; their slow movements as they undressed each other, taking time to explore each part as it was exposed; and their gentle, almost hesitant lovemaking, punctuated by whispers of each other's names. She smiled at the memories, feeling his arm still around her, and nestled closer to him, resting her head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat next to her ear. Yes, lovemaking, not sex, she thought. He loved her, as much as she loved him. And it felt so *right* to have him here with her, in her bed. She could have stayed like that forever. But then he shifted, and she looked up to find him looking down at her, eyes half-open. He smiled slowly, that wonderful Mulder smile, and she returned the favor. "Hi," he murmured, his voice still husky from sleep. "Hi, yourself," she said, spreading her hand on his chest. "Sleep well?" He grunted, a sparkle coming into his eyes. "I did, although I was somewhat distracted by this dream I had ..." She slid up in the bed, bringing her face over his, and asked, "And what would that have been?" He slid his hands to her hips and pulled her on top of him. "Let me show you," he said, his lips reaching to meet hers. ========== On Monday morning, Mulder was already at his desk when Scully came in. He stood as she entered and shut the door behind her, then followed her to her desk. She set her purse and briefcase in her chair as his arms went around her waist and he hooked his fingers together across her stomach. She leaned back against his chest, and he brushed her cheek with his lips. After a few moments, she pulled away, turning to face him and reaching for his hand. She paused, holding his eyes, then said, "I guess we should go talk to Skinner, huh?" Mulder smiled. "Yeah, I guess so," he said. "But maybe *you* should be the one to tell him. He'll be less likely to bite your head off." Scully returned the smile. "You're probably right." ========== When the agents arrived at the assistant director's office a few minutes later, he met them at the door. "I was just headed downstairs," he said, glowering at them, as he held the door open. Mulder and Scully exchanged a glance, then moved into room, his hand at her back, as usual. They took seats facing Skinner's desk as he stepped up behind it, and he sat. They were silent for a few moments as Skinner looked back and forth between his two best agents, and then he finally fixed his eyes on Mulder and said, "So are you going to tell me what's going on?" Mulder met his gaze, preparing to answer, but Scully stopped him with a hand on his arm and said, "Sir, if I may, I'd like to speak first." Skinner swiveled to face her, and she went on: "Sir, I realize the FBI frowns on relationships between partners. We had actually planned Saturday night as a sort of ... joke, to make everyone think we were there on a real date." "'We planned,' Agent Scully?" he asked, disbelief in his voice. "We," she repeated. "Agent Mulder suggested the idea, but I agreed, so yes, *we* planned it." "And ...?" Scully shifted a bit in her seat. "And, well, we got a little more than either of us bargained for," she said, shooting another glance at Mulder. "To make a long story short, sir, Agent Mulder and I have become ... involved." Skinner held her look, then cut his eyes to Mulder. "Agent Mulder," he said. "Do you have anything to add?" Mulder sat up a little straighter. "Yes, sir, I do," he said, feeling Scully's eyes on him. "Agent Scully -- Dana -- and I *are* involved, and we plan to stay that way. For a long time." Skinner looked back and forth between them again, then said. "Agent Scully, Agent Mulder, I have just one thing to say ..." They braced for the worst, then felt their jaws drop in shock as Skinner broke into a rare smile. "It's about time," he said, then laughed at their reaction, and their faces melted into smiles.