I don't know where my delusion came from, what part of me had concocted this decided fantasy of the future, our future.
Maybe I've waited too long? Or perhaps my head has just been so bloated that I've convinced myself of a false truth. Maybe I was wrong to think there was something between us. It's not like we've been through more together than anyone ever should, or anything.
I don't know why she's making me suffer through this awful dinner party, at any rate.
The tension in the air is palpable between us, Brent and I, and it's obvious to everyone at the table, Margaret, Bill, and Scully herself keeps shooting me glares that piss me off to no end. It's like he's rubbing my face in it. Am I really that transparent? Is she trying to make me jealous?
Bad enough that she invited her asshole brother, but why do I have to be here? I'm not family, I don't need to meet the new wonder boy in her life.
Morbid curiosity and an inability to say no to her are the reasons why I'm putting myself through this, really.
Christ though, what does she see in him? Aside from the cheekbones, blond hair and muscular figure, which is of course so obvious under his tight t-shirt, what the hell does she see in him? He's vile.
I need to focus my mind elsewhere, I'm so wound up. And if he tells another anecdote about the gym or how he's on the way up in the world of politics I honestly think I might just get up and leave.
"...and this weedy guy tried to squat 75kg, and he couldn't even do that!"
Right, that's it. I can't do this.
I excuse myself and head to the bathroom, thinking that leaving is perhaps a bit extreme and won't go down too well. I perch myself on the toilet lid and put my head in my hands, not sure whether to laugh or cry. I don't know why I'm surprised that she's found someone, she's gorgeous and funny and really hot. Bit of a pain in the ass most of the time but it's one of the things I love about her. She deserves better, at any rate.
I stand and splash some cold water on my face, hoping the cool liquid will quell some of the rage in my heart. I tug the chain to flush the toilet and unlock the door.
"Mulder." She says quietly, and I know I'm in for a scalding. I don't know how she knew I was faking but she always seems to second guess me. I say nothing, stare her in the face and hope I'm hiding my disapproval, but somehow I don't think I'm doing a convincing job. Her eyes skirt my face as she reads me and it pisses me off. I look down at the floor, running a hand through my hair. "What's going on with you?"
My eyes widen and I chuckle a little, surprised she hasn't noticed what a jackass she's with. Her expression is one of genuine confusion, and, I'm pleased to notice, concern. I decide to give her the benefit of the doubt and just try to get through the evening. Maybe it does mean something to her, whether or not I like this guy. Maybe that's why I'm here. I step towards her and wrap my arms in their customary position, one on her lower back and one pulling her shoulders into me. She lapses against me, and I smile into her hair.
"Nothing, I'm just grumpy I guess."
She pulls back a little, arms still resting just above my ass, and smiles. "He's not replacing you, you know"
I chuckle a little and nod, as she insists that I'm her best friend. I assure her that she's still mine, and she gives a hand a squeeze and a tug and before I know it I'm back at my seat, swallowing down my hatred as he kisses her. I know damn well that the little look he gives me when she turns back is for no one else's benefit. Apparently she's his territory now.
The only saving grace of this evening is that he has to work early tomorrow morning, so he's driving back tonight. Scully and I on the other hand drove the one car down from D.C., so I have an excuse to stay overnight.
I grin and bear the rest of dinner, and the post-dinner drinks served afterward, all the while wondering when this all got so formal and how many drinks Brent is actually going to down before he jumps back into his car. Scully seems to have had her fair share too, judging by the familiar red tinge on her cheeks. I can't help but smile as she laughs whole heartedly.
Finally, after what seems like another hour of torture, he's saying goodnight and goodbye and everyone's starting to talk about sleep. I have no problems with an earlyish night. I'd rather not drag this out any longer than I need to. I eye up the sofa bed and wonder just how easily I'll sleep, but at least in sleep I can find my way to a better place, where it's just me and her.
Before long I'm curled in a blanket, just in my boxers, and eyes closed. That is, until the lights flick on, and a pyjama clad Scully perches herself down next to me.
"Good morning." I mutter ironically, irritated by her intrusion. It's not the first time we've had a late night chat but it's probably aided by her alcohol consumption. She laughs, making herself comfortable. She doesn't say anything for a while, just sits there smiling, and for a while I wonder if I can get away with sleeping, but eventually she turns to face me.
"Did you like him?" She asks with a broad smile. I can't help but raise my eyebrows, but her innocent faces stops me from being blatant.
"Yeah, sure, he's alright." I mumble awkwardly. She laughs fully then and nudges me in the ribs, which actually hurts quite a bit. Maybe she's not as drunk as I thought. I give her a little glare and a blank expression before she continues.
"You hated him!"
"He hated me!" I protest.
"Well it doesn't matter." She smiles. "It just means you don't have a new baseball partner."
I roll my eyes and match her grin, reminiscing about a few months ago.
"I don't need a new one." I mutter, and drape my arm around the back of her neck, resting on her shoulder. Automatically she drags closer into me, her head lying against my chest. I place a kiss into her hair and before I know it, I'm half asleep.
