From: Nicolette Date: Tue, 20 Jul 1999 19:32:09 -0400 Subject: Two stories by Nicolette Source: direct Title: Rainy Days, Mondays Author: Nicolette Rating: PG Feedback: Gratefully received at cheri@tiac.net Category: SR Keywords: MSR UST Spoilers: None really, but assume their relationship is at the point just after The Unnatural. Archive: Ephemeral & Gossamer. Elsewhere only by permission, with my e-mail, name, and credits listed. Disclaimer: These characters belong to Chris Carter, DD, GA, and all the folks at 1013. Acknowledgments: Thanks again to Justin for his beta support. Jori, what can I say. You are wonderful. This one is for my main man. You are so fine. xxxxxxxx Rainy Days, Mondays I need a diversion today. The patter of rain on the cement overhang of our tiny window is soothing me into a drowsy daze. My computer hums along quietly, and Mulder's rhythmic tapping as he types lulls me further into a semi-comatose state. I absently rub my middle finger over the "Enter" key on my keyboard. I cast a lazy eye at Mulder. He is hunched over his own keyboard, focused with furrowed brow on his hunt-and-peck method. Today is one of those days where time slows to a near halt. This rainy Monday reminds me of many gray winter afternoons spent in an eleventh grade required world history class, nearly asleep, wishing I was anywhere but at that dull brown desk. I remember using class time to write letters to pen pals, or work on chemistry homework. Sometimes I would just sit and admire the broad shoulders and v-shaped back of Michael Malley, the swim team captain sitting two seats up and one row across from me. Bored beyond all measure, and thinking lecherous thoughts about how much Mulder reminds me of Michael Malley, I set upon my diversion. Finally awake with a concrete goal set, I begin to type away. I hear his computer chime, indicating he has a mail message. I am holding my breath. C'mon Mulder. Take the bait. He abruptly stops typing, leans back in his chair, and begins to investigate further with the mouse. "Good, good," I think, as my palms start to sweat. Click. He opens his browser and sees the new message from dscully. Click. He opens the e-mail. Here it is. My heart jumps up into my throat. I'm either going to be badly embarassed, or today is my lucky day. His face pops open with surprise. His eyebrows shoot up, eyes widen a little, mouth opens, jaw drops a half inch. Then he smirks. His eyes dart around the edges of the monitor. I can see him trying to decide if he should e-mail a reply, or actually address me in person and risk me changing my mind. Talk to me, baby. Please. I'm waiting. He pushes his chair back, clears his throat, loosens his tie, and then laces his fingers behind his head. His smirk has launched itself into a full fledged grin. It is indeed my lucky day. "Scully... I. Well. That's quite a fine proposal." "Well, Mulder, are you game?" "What took you so long, G-woman?" He is standing up now, pushing his chair in behind him. He is beaming. "I think it's about time, don't you?" He stuffs the file folder in my outstretched hand, and reaches into his suit jacket, which hangs over the back of his chair, for his wallet. "Thanks, Scully. I would be glad to pick up lunch in exchange for your 'secretarial services'." "Don't push your luck, G-Man," I warn him as he brushes past me, headed out the door to get my salad, yogurt and spring water. As he turns around, I can't help but smile, and lean as far back in my chair as gravity will permit me without tipping over. I will do anything for a look at that man's buns. This day is looking better already. Michael Malley, eat your heart out. End ;-)