From: "fox cub" Date: Fri, 06 Aug 1999 23:11:21 CDT Subject: submissions Source: direct Title: Kevin Costner's Baseball Aura Author: foxcub E-Mail: fox_cub@hotmail.com Category: MSR, V, H Rating: PG Spoilers: The Unnatural Disclaimer: CC/Fox, they belong to you...please, Mr. Lawyer, do not sue... Summary: Mulder, a stack of baseball flicks, and a late-night call to Scully Feedback: It is a girl's best friend :) Distribution: You betcha! Just drop me a line to where it's going and keep my addy attached Author's Note: Quotes at the beginning are taken from "Field of Dreams," which was written and directed by Phil Alden Robinson and are, of course, used without permisson. And if you *really* don't know your movies, there's also a slight reference to "Bull Durham," which was written and directed by Ron Shelton. For Riva, who insisted I start writing more :) **************** He sat in the dark of his apartment, the light from the tv flickering across his face. He was scrunched down on the couch, a sack of sunflower seeds sitting beside him, shells littering his chest. There was a small contented smile on his lips as he watched the screen. The movie was almost over. "....Is this heaven?" "No....it's Iowa." The smile tugged harder at his mouth. He spit out another shell. He was trying hard to resist the phone that teased him from nearby. It was so late....*not* the time to be making phone calls....besides, she'd kick his ass next time she saw him.... ....But soon the cars were going to be lining up to see the field.... Oh, hell, he was due for an ass kicking. He simply couldn't resist. **** "Mulder, it's three-thirty in the morning." She hadn't said hello. She knew damn well who it was. He grinned around a seed. "I remember sitting in the theater watching 'Field of Dreams'," he said, stretching his long body out onto his couch and brushing the shells off onto the floor. "Everyone was just sobbing at the end, when he and his dad start playing catch..." There was a sigh and a groan. "Lemme guess--you're actually watching 'Field of Dreams'." "I'm in Iowa even as we speak...." **** In the dark of her bedroom, she secretly smiled into the phone. He sounded positively giddy. As tired as she was, she longed to be angry at him for waking her at such an ungodly hour, but....damnit, he really did sound giddy. "Well, at least it's not 'Field of Wet Dreams,' or something along those lines." "Scully, you wound me. Besides, that was already checked out." She shook her head. What *was* this baseball kick he was on? For the past few days, ever since his little visit to Arthur Dales, he'd become twelve all over again. She tried hard to be disapproving of his childish energy, but it was so hard, especially when he'd be bubbling and smiling, going on and on about Exley, homeruns, and the *real* American dream. How could she be disapproving when he wrapped her in his warm, sweaty arms and helped her swing a bat around? She closed her eyes briefly. That was supposed to be forgotten. He hadn't spoken of that evening since it happened--he obviously wanted to forget it. "Do you think if I quit the FBI and went into the minors you'd be my fan club?" There he was being giddy again... "Mulder, first of all, I don't know jack squat about baseball. Second, I don't even begin to have a body like Susan Sarandon. Third--" She was interrupted by a yawn. "--I'd get bored sleeping with all the players." **** He allowed himself a very brief moment to imagine her in high heels and a tight skirt, giving him batting lessons.... "It'd only be one guy a season, Scully." "Even so--" He heard her yawn again. It really was late, after all. Only complete wackos were up at four in the morning watching Costner baseball flicks. "--not enough variety." She was bolder when she was sleepy. He liked that, he really did. He had also liked the feel of her fitted against him, his arms entwined with hers, his cheek brushing against her temple.... He flicked another shell across the room. *That* wasn't something he needed to be concentrating on. He knew she'd be mortified if she knew how much he thought about that night.... "Do you ever notice how many baseball movies star Costner?" he asked rather abruptly, forcing his mind back to the subject at hand. "Why is that? I mean seriously, I've got a whole stack of them sitting right here...." **** She was yawning more profusely now and beginning to nod off. At least he wasn't asking her terribly mind-bending questions. "I don't know, Mulder. Maybe there's an aura about him that conveys an All-American quality, therefore allowing him to star in films about the greatest of all American pastimes. Maybe he has a certain feeling of wholesome competition about him or an unspoken determination, both strong qualities of the sport. Or maybe he just really loves baseball and enjoys being in baseball movies." Pause. "Scully, you don't believe in auras." She sighed loudly. "Good-night, Mulder." "No, wait a second." It surprised her, the sudden urgency of his voice. Like he had something extremely important to tell her. She waited for a long, silent moment. "Mulder?" **** He just didn't want to her hang up. That was all. Something about laying in the dark, listening to her low, sleepy voice through the phone seemed to relax him. Jesus, who was he kidding, anyway? Baseball flicks plus her voice equaled the closest thing to reliving that beautiful night that he was probably ever going to get. And that, suddenly, for some bizarre reason, made him unbelieveably sad. "Mulder?" She was saying his name again. She sounded more alert this time, too. He should say something now, he really should.... What? **** She could still hear the tv murmuring in the background, so she knew he was still there. But after another good long pause went by, she finally mumbled, " 'Night, Mulder," and started to hang up. "Scully, do you ever think about the other night?" *What* did he just say? **** He swallowed hard, his heart suddenly going beserk in his chest. God, what had he just said? It had tumbled out of his mouth in a stream of vowels and syllables, but he was only starting to grasp their meaning now. Sure, he was supposed to have said something, but *that*? Of all things?! Damn. Well, no going back now, Spooky ol' boy. It's already out there. He tried his hardest to sound nonchalant. "You know, your 'early birthday present'...." **** She could hear her pulse pounding in her ears. What did he expect her to say? Oh, sure, I go to bed remembering the feel of your arms around me every night.... Right. She'd rather mate with a flukeworm than admit to him the truth. But she had to answer--not replying gave away too much. "Um....yeah, a little, I suppose...." **** Shit, that wasn't the response he wanted at all. Now he was scared. She could tell, he knew she could tell, she could always see right through him. Just because it was only his voice didn't mean she couldn't figure it out.... He had started this whole thing admitting to being overdue for an ass kicking. What he was gonna end up with was laying out a piece of his soul never witnessed by her. At that moment, he favored an ass kicking. **** God, that sounded cold, she thought. I need to rephrase that. Being aloof is *not* the way to go. He'll see right through it. He'll know it's a front. But her sleep-muddled brain wasn't in complete working order. She opened her mouth a few times to rephrase, but the words wouldn't come. Finally, they did. "Do *you* ever think about it?" Shit. **** Yep, she could tell all right. He crunched down on another seed, trying to grinding down his fear along with it. Well, he usually did things first, anyway.... He threw the shell into the air and sucked in a breath. He absolutely hated feeling like he was sixteen again. "Yeah, I do, Scully. I....think about it quite a bit, actually." There, he said it. Done. He could only imagine her embarrassment. **** Heat rushed to her cheeks and her heart was exploding against her rib cage. She bit her lip and realized with a shock that the hand holding the phone was trembling. He thinks about it. A lot. He *doesn't* want to forget about the....the....cheek thing and the arm thing and his body up against mine thing.... Damn, how she hated feeling like she was fifteen again. Sweaty palms and everything. Still, what did he want her to say? Maybe he only wanted to get it out there, so he could feel better about himself or some completely guy-oriented thing like that.... Maybe he didn't want her to answer at all.... **** C'mon, damnit, say something! The pregnant pause was driving him nuts. He could just see her rubbing her eyes, shaking her head and wondering how in the world she was going to deal with him now.... "I, uh....I really think about it a lot, too." She does? He felt like he'd momentarily had the breath knocked out of him. It kept running through his mind, over and over again.... She thinks about it. A shot a adrenaline surged through him and he gripped the phone with more confidence. "Well, um, I think I can scrounge up the ball kid again. My bat's still around here...." **** God, he was starting to sound giddy again. "....if you'd want to, you know, practice your swing some more." She was chewing her lip and beginning to grin at the same time. Why had all that seemed so hard? The world hadn't ended, they were both still in one piece....in fact, she actually felt more complete. "Just don't expect me to pay your little newsie, Mulder. I shouldn't have to pay for my own birthday present." **** He was calmer. Happier. Lighter. And he was sporting a grin that threatened to crack his face in two. "I figured you'd probably drag it out. The gift that keeps on giving." There was a very faint, soft, sleepy laugh that came from her end. It was sweetest thing he'd ever heard. Suddenly the tape shut off and there was the loud, garish hiss of tv snow. He grabbed the remote. "Movie's over." "Good." This time he heard a yawn as he flicked the set off. "Go to bed, Mulder." "Yeah, I probably should." Another yawn, louder this time. " 'Night, Mulder. And I mean it this time." He laughed softly. " 'Night, Scully." "Sweet dreams." He paused a moment, licked his lips slowly. "Always." **** The way he said it: low, soft, almost husky. She hit the off button on the cordless and pressed it to her heart, halfway pretending it was him. Except she couldn't exactly kiss the phone. **** END. **************** END NOTE: I got the idea for this story working late one night at Blockbuster. I kept noticing how many baseball movies featured Kevin Costner, and suddenly the idea for a post-"Unnatural" story just started to grow. This is something I've been trying to do for awhile now--just a sweet, funny little story, with only the *slightest* touch of angst. All feedback lovingly cherished at fox_cub@hotmail.com The Fox's Den: The FanFic of foxcub http://members.tripod.com/foxcub/bringiton.html "'Tis strange but true; for truth is always strange; stranger than fiction." --Byron ~~~~~~~ "...Maybe you *are* a member of the Manson family." --Scully, "Aqua Mala"