From: eponine119 Date: Sat, 6 Jan 1996 13:54:04 -0800 Subject: NEW: Personals (1/1) Category: Humorous romance. Disclaimer: These characters belong to Chris Carter, 10-13 and Fox. No infringement intended. Thanks: The idea for this one came into my head when a personal ad caught my eye. It said, "X-Files. Agent Mulder SWM 31 lookalike (really!) seeking Scully. The truth is out there!" I am not kidding! While I wasn't about to answer it, I thought it would make for a good story. Enjoy! Personals by eponine119 eponine@uci.edu 1/6/96 Scully lay in bed, fingering the silk of her new nightgown. She couldn't sleep. She was too busy wondering if a man would ever see her sexy new lingerie. "At this rate, not till I'm 96." she muttered, turning on the light and sitting up. She crossed her legs and flipped open the recent issue of "Cosmopolitan". She'd bought it on an impulse, much like the nightgown. Her problem wasn't that she didn't know plenty of men, it was that none of them were quite right. She stared off into space, thinking... She stands in the hallway at work, and Skinner approaches her. "Scully, can I have a word with you?" He looks uncomfortable. "Sure, what is it?" She smiles pleasantly, waiting. "I've been wanting to ask you this for a long time." he says. She waits. He looks like a schoolboy as he asks, "Will you go out with me?" His eyes are like a puppy's. She smiles and... Scully's laughter brought her out of the daydream. She was still smiling as she shook her head. It would never work, she thought. Skinner was...well, he was Skinner. Who else do I know? The sun shines brightly down on the tennis court. "I beat you!" she laughs as she says it, trotting up to the net. Her tennis partner looks grim and sickly in the light. He also looks out of place in his suit. "You did," he says and his face cracks into a smile. Then he lights a cigarette... Scully shivered, then had to smile. Cancerman, playing tennis? Something wrong with my brain, she thought. Besides, Mulder would have a heart attack. Hmmm. Mulder... It's dark in the woods. Lightning crashes overhead, and rain begins to pour. A typical night for the X Files, she thinks, looking around for Mulder. She screams his name, as usual. He's nowhere to be found. Suddenly she is highlighted in the beam of his ultra-bright flashlight. "there's a cabin," he says, shouting to be heard over the wind. "You're getting soaked." She follows him up a muddy path to a tiny log cabin. She stands inside, cold, as he lights a fire in the fireplace. Then he turns to her and stands. "You look beautiful in the firelight." he says in a low voice, fingering the wet strands of her hair. "I care about you, I've always cared about you." His hands slip beneath her damp jackey and she lifts her face to meet his kiss... Scully gasped and jumped out of bed, her hand over her open mouth. She couldn't believe she'd constructed such an elaborate fantasy. What was wrong with her? "That's it, I need a man. Now." She said and grabbed the newspaper from its recycling bin. She opened it to the personals and began to read. "SWM, 65, seeks SWF, 18-21..." "Cradle snatcher," said Scully and read on. "Redheads wanted..." "Fetishist," said Scully and read on. "Seeking SF 300 lbs +..." "Two Shy," said Scully and read on. "SWM, 35, wounded and alone, willing to pay top dollar for women's diaries..." "Sicko," said Scully. They all sounded like psychos. Was there not one same man, she thought, as her eye slid down the column. "Ironic SWM, 35, workaholic, seeks same for scattered nights of poetry and moonlight." Scully stopped reading to contemplate. He didn't sound psycho. In fact, something about the ad appealed to her. It was romantic, yet practical. "What the hell, " she said and grabbed the phone. "Hi, I saw your ad. I realize you're busy, so let's meet at the Lincoln Memorial Tuesday at 7. OK? Bye." Scully pressed the 'end' button, breathless. She'd never spoken so fast in her life. What had she just done? OK, he won't necessarily show up, she thought, trying to allay her fears. And if he's psycho, I'll shoot him. Simple as that. "Mulder, do you want to get married?" It was Tuesday. Scully was having doubts. Mulder managed to not drop the book he was reading. "My calendar's kind of full this week, Scully, but I could probably clear Saturday-" "Not to me. Just, someday." She was not amused. "Probably. Why?" "No reason." She shrugged. Mulder waited, sensing she wasn't finished. "Do you date?" "Yes. Scully, why are you -" "No reason." Scully said again quickly and went back to her work. Mulder continued to watch her for a long time, trying to figure her out. Scully paced back and forth on the steps on the Lincoln Memorial, trying to stay warm. No one else was out on such a cold night. He's not going to show, she thought, relieved and disappointed. Then she spotted someone sitting up by Lincoln's foot. She stopped a moment to survey him from a distance. He looked average. Kinda tall, kinda thin, brown hair, the standard I-work-for-the-goverment trenchcoat. And glasses. Scully smiled. She kind of liked men who wore glasses. She walked up to him. He didn't notice her. "Excuse me," she said and he turned his head to look at her. She screamed. "Mulder!" He jumped up, staring at her. "Scully! What are you doing here?" He yanked off his glasses and crammed them into his pocket. "What are you doing here?" she demanded back. Embarrassed silence hung between them, each of them unwilling to speak. "You're him, aren't you?" Scully demanded. "SWM, 35, workaholic...I can't believe you put an ad in the personals!" "I can't believe you answered it!" Mulder replied, just as upset as she was. "You didn't recognize my voice?" "You were talking faster than the speed of light!" They glared at each other a few minutes longer, breathing hard, until their anger burned out. "So what do we do now?" Scully asked quietly. "Go home?" Mulder suggested. "I don't think so." Scully said, putting her arm through his. "I want my night of poetry and moonlight." Mulder hoped a hole would open in the earth and swallow him up. It didn't. "Really, Mulder, poetry? You're such a fraud." "Let's walk." Mulder suggested and they started down the steps. Scully looked up at the sky dubiously. "There's not even a moon. Here you are, misleading all these women..." "What women?" he muttered. Scully stopped walking. "what do you mean?" "You're the only one who answered the ad." Mulder admitted, and started walking again. Scully felt his words like a blow. This was starting to worry her. "Really?" Mulder didn't answer. His eyes were fixed in front of him. "Do you really write poetry?" she asked softly, trying to imagine Mulder that way. "Sure, all the time." he said. She looked at him and couldn't tell if he was lying or not. Freezing, she burrowed closer to him. "I want to hear some." "Now?" "Now." "Ok." Mulder stopped walking and turned to face her, pulling away from her arm. He thought for a moment, then exhaled. Very solemnly, he said: "Your hair is red, Your eyes are blue, Your lips are sweet, I want to kiss you." He looked away quickly. Scully's heart started to pound. "Really?" she asked. "Mulder, look at me." He did, and she didn't have to ask again. She could see it burning in his eyes. His lips touched hers, cold, for just a second before he jerked away. "I have to go." He started walking. "Mulder, if you leave me here, I'll have to call that guy who wants redheads. Or women's diaries!" She threatened, yelling after him. "I'm serious!" He stopped walking. "Do you know how much danger you put yourself in?" he demanded. "Do you realize what kind of pyscho you could have met?" He was walking towards her again. Scully had to smile. "I happen to like psychos," she said, hugging him. "I like you, don't I?" "Scully -" "Besides," she whispered into his ear, "I already decided if you were nuts, I'd just shoot you." He chuckled. "That's what I like about you, Scully, you always have a plan." Not releasing him from her embrace, she leaned back to look at him. "Do you believe you can find your perfect mate through the personals?" she asked. "Do you?" "I'm not sure." she said. "But you want to believe?" asked Mulder with a smirk. She laughed. "Yes, that's it, I want to believe." He laughed too. "Come on," he said, "I'll walk you home." End. OK, I just realized this would make a perfect infomercial. But hopefully it was funny. PLEASE tell me what you think! eponine119 eponine@uci.edu