"Mulder, this is ridiculous!"

"It's either this or strip poker. Your choice, Scully."

Why on Earth did I ever agree to this? How could I have been so darn self-confident to take Mulder up on such a stupid bet. And then lose! Stupid, stupid, stupid me.

"Fine, Mulder. But I am setting my alarm. In one hour and... 3 minutes... I am out of here."

"Fine."

I sit down at the table that Mulder has prepared for us. Mulder slowly walks over to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of Tequila. Yeah, him forgetting about the Tequila would have been just too good to be true.

"Do you need me to repeat the rules?"

"I know how to play blackjack, Mulder."

Mulder starts dealing the cards. We make small talk, discussing the case which has brought us to this forlorn place. I win the first three rounds, gleefully watching him down a shot of Tequila after each. But pride comes before the fall. I get cocky and start requesting too many cards. After five shots of Tequila the alcohol starts adding inattentiveness to the mix, and soon I feel a warm fuzz spreading from my belly to my face.

"You know, for being such a careful person in real life, you are a rather reckless player."

"Who said I was a careful person? You just haven't met this side of me yet, Mulder." I reply playfully.

Mulder is sitting across of me, his sleeves rolled back, tapping his cards on the table while he waits for my move. Damn, I love it when he rolls back his sleeves. He doesn't reveal his muscular arms nearly often enough. And I couldn't prevent myself from arching my brows when he unbuttoned his collar. His tie having been thrown across the back of a chair, which he of course missed. I wonder how salty his skin is. I wonder what he would do if I licked his throat before taking the next shot.

"Scully...?"

I blush, hoping he will attribute it to the alcohol. I request another card.

"So what does a guy have to do to get to know your reckless side, Scully?"

"Well, he could buy me a drink, for starters."

"Check."

"He could show interest in me. Ask me what I do for a living. What I do when I am not at work. What kind of books I like to read, what music I like to listen to."

"You are an FBI special agent. You like to read, visit friends and family, relax in a bubble bath. When you are not reading medical journals you like to read classics. You recently read 'To Kill a Mockingbird' and you like listen to classical music, but not operas."

I have another winning streak, and watch Mulder down another four shots. The alcohol must be getting to him, his face is flushed and he unbuttons two more buttons. I can see myself straddling him right there in his chair, unbuttoning the remaining buttons for him before sinking my teeth into his collarbone. I wonder if he would moan or growl.

Mulder has been gazing at me more openly during the past few rounds, too. I even caught him staring at my chest once. He didn't avert his eyes nearly as fast as usual, but was polite enough to blush.

"What next, Scully? What does the guy have to do next?"

"He could walk me home. If he's lucky I might invite him up for a cup of coffee."

"Coffee, Scully?"

"Or another drink, whatever you prefer." I realize my slip of tongue too late, but Mulder does not seem to have noticed. Either that or he is a really good actor, even in his intoxicated state.

We play another few rounds, and now have to drink equally often. There is a drop of Tequila running down his chin, and I wish I could catch it with my tongue. There is so much more I wish I could do with my tongue just about now.

"Why are we playing this game, Mulder?"

"Uh, because you lost a bet?"

"I'm not talking about blackjack, Mulder."