From: diamante@cheerful.com Date: Fri, 26 Jun 1998 19:42:24, -0500 Subject: Night on the Town Title: Night on the Town Author: Christina Rating: PG Category: S Keywords: Mulder/Scully UST and friendship Spoilers: none Summary: Scully's bored and calls Mulder, and they don't come home until the next morning. Disclaimer: They are not mine and I unfortunately have no reason to think they are. Including the fact that I am making no money from this, so all you pesky lawyer-types can flee. I own almost nothing, and so have nothing to give you, except a new X-Files poster to which I am very attached. CC, 10-13, and Fox own them, and have very kindly let me borrow them for an evening. No infringement or harm intended. Distribution Statement: Send it anywhere you like, just keep my name and email on it, and drop me a note to tell me where it's going. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Scully sat on her mother's front porch, listening to the drone of her neighbor's lawn mower, from which wafted the smell of freshly-cut grass. She sipped her lemonade, trying to enjoy the calm June evening. And failing miserably. She was bored to death. More out of habit than anything else, she pulled out her cell phone, ignoring the real phone a mere ten feet away. "Mulder." "Mulder, it's me." "Hey, Scully, what's up? How's your mother's?" "Idyllic, Mulder." She paused. "That's the problem. I'm bored out of my mind!" She heard Mulder's soft chuckle and bristled. "It's not funny, Mulder! And it's all your fault. You've turned me into a workaholic. I'm not happy unless I'm inches from getting killed!" "Oh, poor Scully's bored. And what am I supposed to do about it?" "I don't know. Inform me of the latest conspiracy. Call me back with some cryptic, monosyllabic message stating that you require my immediate presence. I don't know. *Anything!*" "Uh, Scully? Did it ever occur to you that I might be enjoying this little vacation? *With* someone?" His gentle tone took out what could have been a sarcastic sting to his words. "Oh, Mulder, I'm sorry, I didn't even think -- I just assumed-- I'm sorry. Just forget it." She was about to hang up when she heard his voice. "I didn't say I *was*, I just said it was a possibility. An extreme possibility that isn't happening. Want me to come over? Besides, this movie wears a bit thin after repeated viewings." "Please. And what are you watching?" She had wondered about the breathy background noises. "World's Deadliest Swarms." "Again?" "What were you expecting? One of those videos you never found in my apartment that I don't watch?" "Well, yeah." "Sick-minded girl. I'll be over in thirty minutes." "Bye." She laid the phone next to her on the swing and wondered exactly what Mulder was up to. It only took fifteen minutes for him to get to her mother's house. Scully heard the doorbell ring, but let her mother answer it as she finished putting on some lipstick. "Fox, dear, what a pleasant surprise! Come in, come in. What brings you here?" "Hi, Mrs. Scully. Actually, I've come to wine and dine your daughter." "Well, it's about time! Five years is certainly long enough to--" "Hi, Mulder," Scully greeted him as she stepped into the foyer. He emitted a low whistle. "Cut-offs and a tank-top, Scully?" She noticed his own nice-shirt-and-slacks outfit and wondered if she was dressed too casually for wherever they were going. "I didn't think you even *owned* a pair of jeans." She threw him a Look and grabbed her purse. "Bye, Mom," Scully said, kissing her mother on the cheek. "I have no idea when I'll be getting back, so don't wait up." "Of course, dear." Mrs. Scully kissed Mulder good-bye as well. "Have fun." They said nothing until they were in Mulder's car. "I feel like *such* a little kid, staying at Mom's! What was I thinking?! I even almost asked what time my curfew was! Thirty-four years old, and I'm still tempted to find out my curfew. I should have just holed up in my apartment. Whatever possessed Skinner to give us a vacation the *exact* week my car is in the shop, I'll never know." "Well, you won't feel like a little kid for long." Mulder grinned. "Mulder?" Scully said suspiciously. "What?" He handed her a bag. "Put it on." Scully pulled out a short green dress, with spaghetti straps and an Empire waist. Her dress. In the bag was a pair of matching shoes. Her shoes. "Mulder, where did you get these? And where are we going?" "I have a key to your apartment, remember? I raided your closet. I think I brought everything you'll need." She wondered at his sudden smirk. "And we are going dancing." He grinned again. "No, Mulder," Scully protested, laughing. "I cannot dance. There's no way--" "Hey, *you* called *me,* remember? It'll be fun." He smiled. "C'mon." "Okay. But don't complain if you get bruised toes." "Bruised toes? You weigh what, like 80 pounds?" He rolled his eyes. "My toes are safe from you, Scully." He pulled into a gas station. "Can you change in the bathroom here?" "Uh, yeah." "I won't be long." Mulder got out and started to pump gas while Scully went off in search of a bathroom. Thankfully, it was a single-occupancy one, and she didn't have to deal with changing in a stall. Scully hurriedly slipped on the dress and shoes, then debated whether or not to take off her bra. The visible black straps looked *soo* tacky, but the thought of dancing braless with Mulder did strange things to her stomach. She suddenly noticed the too-heavy weight of the plastic bag and smiled as she pulled out her strapless bra. He really *had* thought of everything. She slipped the undergarment on and went out to meet Mulder. Another whistle. "You look beautiful," he said, smiling at her over the top of the car. "Well, let's go!" he exclaimed, getting into the car. Scully followed suit, and they drove off. They stood on line outside the dance club, the music clearly audible out on the street. The bouncer took one look at Scully and said, "I'll need to see some ID, please." "What?" Scully asked. She hadn't been carded since college. "ID," the bouncer said, obviously annoyed. "I need to see it before I can let you in." "Oh, for crying out loud..." Scully said as she dug through her purse, looking for her driver's license. "Here," she said, nearly shoving the document in his face. "I'm thirty-four, all right? Now can I *please* go in?" "Sure, ma'am." The guard's tone was now respectful. He was obviously younger than thirty-four. "Sorry to cause you trouble." "Quite all right," Scully muttered as they entered the club. "See what I mean about feeling juvenile?" she asked Mulder. "I always thought you women were flattered when you had to show ID. Means you look younger than you are. Which you do," he added quickly, unsure of what the look Scully was giving him meant. "I guess so, oh, I don't know, Mulder. It's just-- I hate dealing with the whole age thing. Mom's always going on about how I'm 34, I should be married by now, and then she does something that makes me feel like a little kid and-- just forget it, " she said with a sigh. "Let's dance." There was a fast, rhythmic song playing, and Scully got right into it, dancing to the beat. "What do you mean, you can't dance?" Mulder asked incredulously before he started to move as well. When the song was over, Scully seemed to have forgotten her bad mood, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks a bit flushed. And she was laughing, an action the Mulder had never really associated with his partner. "That was fun," Scully said as the next song started. A slow song. Scully seemed unsure as to what to do, but Mulder put both hands on her waist, so she reached up and clasped her hands behind his neck. They swayed and spun to the music, and halfway through the song, Scully closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest. The song ended, and they broke apart. "I need a drink," Scully said, prompting a raised eyebrow from Mulder. "You don't do it right," she laughed and they made their way over to the bar. "Club soda with a twist of lime, please," she told the bartender, then turned back to a surprised Mulder. "What did you think I was going to order? I'm thirsty, not suffering from an overwhelming desire to get wasted." She laughed again. "I have about two drinks, and I'll be dancing on the tables. I get very drunk very quickly." "Table dancing is good," Mulder deadpanned. "Do you do a striptease, too?" The bartender returned with Scully's drink. "You want anything?" he asked Mulder. "Do you have any iced tea?" The bartender looked disgusted, but nodded. "Then I'll have a large iced tea. Lots of sugar, please." He sat down on a bar stool as Scully did the same. "I don't think that guy thinks very highly of me," he told Scully. "And I *can* hold my liquor. Sort of," he added, remembering the bartender who called him Spooky. They sat in companionable silence, watching the crowd on the dance floor. Mulder noticed Scully checking out a blond guy on the other side of the room and quickly swallowed the rest of his iced tea. "Want to dance?" he asked. "Sure." Scully smiled and they melted into the crowd. A couple hours later, they came out of the dance club, still laughing at the guy who had jumped up on the stage, grabbed the lead singer's mike, and started an awful rendition of "Summer Love," complete with falsetto at the girls' parts. Mulder unlocked the car and they got in. "Mulder, that was so much fun. Thanks," Scully said. "Hey, any time. I had a great time, too." He suddenly grinned. "Want to go get some ice cream?" "At three o'clock in the morning?" Scully asked, patented skeptical tone coming in on cue. "Sure," she laughed. "Why not?" They drove around Washington, and about fifteen minutes later, located a 24-hour Baskin Robbin's. The place was understandably deserted, save for the teenager behind the counter. "Hi. I'll have a single scoop of that sour apple sherbet right there." Mulder pointed to the neon green dessert. "Oh, eww, Mulder! You're going to *eat* that?!" "Cone or cup?" the girl asked, bored. "Um, actually, never mind. I'll have a cone with a single scoop of rocky road." He smiled at Scully. "Just so you're happy." "Mulder, tell me, were you actually planning to consume that?" "That's for me to know, Scully, and you to find out." "You're impossible, you know that?" "Mmm-hmm. Thanks," he said to the girl, whose name tag read "Julie." "I'll have a single scoop cone of the nonfat vanilla yogurt, please." "Oh, come *on,* Scully. That's not ice cream. That's just disgusting." Julie wisely decided to not scoop anything until they had finished. "Fine. I'll have a cone of the cherries jubilee, please." "Trust you to find something healthy in ice cream." "What's that supposed to mean?" "It has *fruit* in it!" He rolled his eyes. "So? It's good." Scully took her cone from Julie and gave her some money. "They're together. Try it," she said, turning back to Mulder. He licked the proffered ice cream. "Mmm. That *is* good," he said. "But I'm paying." "Mulder, I already paid for it. Don't be silly." "I'm not being silly. Just chivalristic." "That's not a word." "So? I can make up words if I want." Julie handed Scully her change. "No, wait, here," Mulder said, pulling out a ten and handing it to the girl. "Thanks for the tip, mister," Julie said and walked to the back room, more to end their bickering than anything else. These married couples who thought they were still dating were just ridiculous. And what kind of names were Mulder and Scully? Probably some stupid pet names or something. Well, who cares? She got an extra ten bucks out of the deal. Mulder and Scully stared at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. "See, Mulder, that's what you get for trying to pay after I already did," Scully mock-reprimanded him. They walked outside, the early June morning cool but not too chilly. By mutual, unspoken agreement they didn't go straight back to the car, but walked around, ending up by a bench. They sat down, both intent on their ice cream. "Scully, there's a--" Without thinking, Mulder licked a drip of Scully's ice cream cone that had been about to fall in her lap. "Well, what was I supposed to do?" he asked her baffled expression. "Let it ruin your dress?" She just smiled at him. "Mulder, you are the best friend a girl could ever have." "Thanks, Scully," Mulder said, touched yet puzzled by her sudden rush of sentiment. Maybe it was the fact that it was four in the morning -- no, that couldn't be it, they'd been together at four in the morning many times before... Whatever the reason, he liked it. They sat on the bench together while they finished their ice creams. Mulder looked at his watch. "Hey, Scully, the sun rises in twenty minutes. Want to watch it?" "Of course," she smiled and said, "And I know the perfect place, too." Fifteen minutes later, they stood on the eastern side of the Thomas Jefferson Memorial, waiting for the sun to rise. A stiff morning breeze blew the scent of the ocean to them, and Scully inhaled deeply. The smell of the sea always brought memories of her father, but this morning she felt only reminiscent, and not sad. She leaned back against one of the many columns, closing her eyes. "Scully," Mulder whispered in her ear. "Wake up." She opened her eyes and saw one of the most beautiful sun rises she had ever seen. Pink and orange refracted across the clouds, with splashes of red and purple thrown in for good measure. "It's beautiful," she breathed. "How did you know I love to watch the sun rise?" she asked Mulder, her gaze still on the fiery orb. "I didn't, but I love to watch it," he said, and they stood in silence, just staring up at the sky. "I'm so used to searching the sky for aliens, I forget sometimes how pretty it is," Mulder said, his comment needing no answer. But she answered anyway. "Yeah. I forget, too." They stood there a few more moments then Scully turned. "Let's go home, Mulder." Mulder drove to Mrs. Scully's house, occasionally stealing a glance at his partner who sat, eyes closed, almost-but-not-quite asleep. "Wake up," he said, for the second time that morning. "We're here." Scully sleepily rubbed her eyes and got out of the car. "Thanks, Mulder," Scully said as they stood on the front porch, and she impulsively gave him a hug. "Thanks. For everything." She opened the door quietly, then asked, "You want to crash here? We've got the room." When he shook his head, she said, "Mulder, you'll fall asleep at the wheel. Please stay." At her entreating tone, he acquiesced, and allowed Scully to tuck him into the bed in Bill's old room, before she tiptoed down the hall and collapsed exhausted into her own bed, a smile on her face. ********************************************************************* I won't beg for feedback -- it hasn't been doing much good -- but if you'd like to, my email's diamante@cheeful.com. I would appreciate it greatly. Thanks! ***Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward in the same direction. - Antoine de Saint-Exupery