Title: Silent and Lonely Nights
Author: ScullyAsTrinity AKA Barenaked Bostonian
Rating: R, words, don't cha know...
Distribution: Sure, fine, whatever.
Spoilers: Nope! :-)
Feedback: Fine and dandy like sour candy... BNLXPhile12@aol.com
Category: MSR
Dedication: To my babe Michelle! This is her Christmas present.
Summary: Why are they so lonely?
Note: Was watching Playing By Heart and got the strange urge to have a martini, very dry, with three olives, not two. You know, the nutritional value and all :-P
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I throw back my fourth? Maybe my third, I don't remember. Well it's a martini, I do know that. It's strange they way I've always hated martinis, but I got the strange urge for one. Dry, very dry.
With three olives.
The drink is so cold that when it goes down, it burns my throat. It takes sweet, but not sugar sweet. Just sweet, and good to have again, like an old
friend you didn't know you missed.
I swirl the little drops that are left around in the bottom of my glass. Then, I raise my hand and call the waiter over.
"Same." I say simply, and he sends me a wry smile. I don't need this bullshit. I came into the bar to be alone. I don't need the approving stares and lewd comments several men here have passed me.
The man returns promptly, and sets my drink down next to my hand. My eyes fix him with a glare before he can speak.
Yeah, that's right buddy, scamper off and don't come back unless you have some sort of alcoholic beverage for me. Maybe if I had been nicer I could have gotten some of these drinks on the house.
This place is dim, but doesn't smell like smoke, thank goodness. Aside from
the soft music I can hear in the background, the only sounds I hear are that of people's hushed whispers.
I can almost... almost make out the song...
Nope, I lost it, oh well. I stare, now, absent mindedly at my drink. I spin
the little cocktail spear thingy around in the glass and watch the olives twirl.
I pick it up, and down the drink in one gulp. It utterly hopeless for me *not* to feel utterly lonely.
*Pluck!*
One olive is gone, leaving me to contemplate the two remaining olives, which are promptly chewed and swallowed. Stomach, meet dinner.
Yeah, I probably shouldn't be drinking on an empty stomach. I know that, I'm a doctor, but right now, I'm letting shit fly out of the window. I also realize that as a one hundred and twenty five pound woman, five, four... yeah four drinks are way past my capability. I'm drunk, I'm inebriated, I'm
sloshed you could say. I slam some bills down on the table and the aforementioned waiter comes up to me.
"Ma'am, I get off in ten minutes, I could give you a lift home-" "I'm a lesbian." I promptly reply and his face falls. I turn and walk away without giving him a second thought.
Making my way out into the crisp December air, I throw my new New York Lerner jacket on, and clip my heels down the sidewalk. Good thing I didn't bring my car, I definitely would not be able to drive.
I keep my eyes focused on my shoes, and I can see my breath as it puffs from my mouth. I only look up when I hear a car pulling up alongside me. I can't
see who's in the driver's seat but I say anyway:
"Listen buddy, I said no." And I look back down and continue walking. It surprises me when the car follows me and I hear a familiar voice call my name.
"Someone been hitting on you Scully?" The voice is filled with good humor but I fix the man with a heated glare.
"Thought I had lost him when I told him I was a lesbian." "You're drunk." He states simply, not even bothering to open with a more pleasing comment.
"No shit Sherlock." I say and begin to walk once more.
"Get in the car Scully." He tells me. "What?" I ask, somewhat outraged that he ordered me to do something and astonished at the amount of grief in his voice.
"I said, get in the car." "Why?" Gee, me and my witty comebacks. "Because it's cold and it's fifteen blocks to your building. And because...
just because."
I look from him, to the distance in front of me. I oblige him and climb into the passenger seat. He pulls away from the curb and begins his line of questioning.
"Drinking alone?" "Not that it's any of your business." I look out the window. "I'll take that as a yes."
There's a brief period of silence that I relish in.
"How many have you had... of whatever you had?"
Damn it, he just had to ask me! And instead of actually thinking about it, I blurt out the first number that comes to mind.
"Four." "Four..." Sounds about right... "Of what?" He asks, catching a quick glance
of me before returning his eyes to the road.
We stop at a red light.
"Vodka martinis." I stare him in the eye, daring him to lecture me on my choice of drink. Like he has any right.
"We're here."
I don't even look at him, I just get out. He follows.
"Sure Mulder, you can come up." I say, with an agitated sigh. Might as well
take even more liberties with my character.
Fit the key in the lock. Fit, fit damn it! He takes the keys from my hands and puts the key easily in it's place and turns. I look at him for a brief moment and then push my way into my home. He's right on my heels.
I look at him, ask if he wants something, anything. He says he'll take whatever I've got. Beers, and luckily two of them. I tell him to sit down, I don't ask, I tell. He does of course, he knows I have a gun.
I sit next to him on the sofa, shrugging off my jacket and my heels. Then I turn to him and ask him what he was doing out so late.
"I was coming to see you." He says simply, taking a swig of the beer. Where
did the phantom beer come from anyhow...?
"And...?"
"And what?"
"What did you want to see me for?" I ask, raising a brow.
He shrugs. 'I don't know.' he says with his body.
"So you were coming over here to talk to me about... nothing..." I say and guzzle half of my bottle.
"Scully I-" He stops, this *has* to be good. "What?" I tried to make my voice sounds disinterested, but I just couldn't pull it off.
"Never mind. At the chance that I'll scare the shit out of you, I'll keep my mouth shut. I do have a question though..."
I don't bother asking what, because he's going to ask me anyway.
"Why were you drinking tonight? I mean, alone?" He stares at the bottle in his hand and then at me.
Silence. Silence for what seems like an eternity.
I notice the beer burning my lips, damn chap stick. It doesn't work...
"I'm lonely Mulder, okay?" I say quickly and quietly. "Every day."
He reaches over and strokes my hair.
"Well, that was why I was coming over. I was lonely. But you know what Scully?"
I peek up at him, as he still stroke my hair.
"What?" I ask.
"I'm only lonely when you're not around. I miss you on the weekends, at night when I go home, hell, I miss you when you go to get coffee in the morning."
I'm shocked, I know that. I don't feel much else of anything. I can still feel that odd sort of affection that comes to me from time to time. Yes, love, whatever.
"Uh, Mulder. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I mean I didn't-" But my words are halted as his lips touch delicately upon mine and all coherent thought flies of the window.
I'm softly kissing him back. It is not a kiss of passion or hunger. It is a
kiss of love and truth.
And when he pulls away from me I feel ashamed, and I don't know why. His eyes pry at me until I focus upon him. I don't speak.
"I'll... I guess I'll go now." He says softly and moves to pick up his leather jacket.
I grab his arm, alarming him, as well as myself.
"Stay with me Mulder." Now I can truly focus on his eyes, and see as he contemplates my request.
"Just, just stay."
And I fall to sleep content, for the first time in awhile.
*END*
Author: ScullyAsTrinity AKA Barenaked Bostonian
Rating: R, words, don't cha know...
Distribution: Sure, fine, whatever.
Spoilers: Nope! :-)
Feedback: Fine and dandy like sour candy... BNLXPhile12@aol.com
Category: MSR
Dedication: To my babe Michelle! This is her Christmas present.
Summary: Why are they so lonely?
Note: Was watching Playing By Heart and got the strange urge to have a martini, very dry, with three olives, not two. You know, the nutritional value and all :-P
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I throw back my fourth? Maybe my third, I don't remember. Well it's a martini, I do know that. It's strange they way I've always hated martinis, but I got the strange urge for one. Dry, very dry.
With three olives.
The drink is so cold that when it goes down, it burns my throat. It takes sweet, but not sugar sweet. Just sweet, and good to have again, like an old
friend you didn't know you missed.
I swirl the little drops that are left around in the bottom of my glass. Then, I raise my hand and call the waiter over.
"Same." I say simply, and he sends me a wry smile. I don't need this bullshit. I came into the bar to be alone. I don't need the approving stares and lewd comments several men here have passed me.
The man returns promptly, and sets my drink down next to my hand. My eyes fix him with a glare before he can speak.
Yeah, that's right buddy, scamper off and don't come back unless you have some sort of alcoholic beverage for me. Maybe if I had been nicer I could have gotten some of these drinks on the house.
This place is dim, but doesn't smell like smoke, thank goodness. Aside from
the soft music I can hear in the background, the only sounds I hear are that of people's hushed whispers.
I can almost... almost make out the song...
Nope, I lost it, oh well. I stare, now, absent mindedly at my drink. I spin
the little cocktail spear thingy around in the glass and watch the olives twirl.
I pick it up, and down the drink in one gulp. It utterly hopeless for me *not* to feel utterly lonely.
*Pluck!*
One olive is gone, leaving me to contemplate the two remaining olives, which are promptly chewed and swallowed. Stomach, meet dinner.
Yeah, I probably shouldn't be drinking on an empty stomach. I know that, I'm a doctor, but right now, I'm letting shit fly out of the window. I also realize that as a one hundred and twenty five pound woman, five, four... yeah four drinks are way past my capability. I'm drunk, I'm inebriated, I'm
sloshed you could say. I slam some bills down on the table and the aforementioned waiter comes up to me.
"Ma'am, I get off in ten minutes, I could give you a lift home-" "I'm a lesbian." I promptly reply and his face falls. I turn and walk away without giving him a second thought.
Making my way out into the crisp December air, I throw my new New York Lerner jacket on, and clip my heels down the sidewalk. Good thing I didn't bring my car, I definitely would not be able to drive.
I keep my eyes focused on my shoes, and I can see my breath as it puffs from my mouth. I only look up when I hear a car pulling up alongside me. I can't
see who's in the driver's seat but I say anyway:
"Listen buddy, I said no." And I look back down and continue walking. It surprises me when the car follows me and I hear a familiar voice call my name.
"Someone been hitting on you Scully?" The voice is filled with good humor but I fix the man with a heated glare.
"Thought I had lost him when I told him I was a lesbian." "You're drunk." He states simply, not even bothering to open with a more pleasing comment.
"No shit Sherlock." I say and begin to walk once more.
"Get in the car Scully." He tells me. "What?" I ask, somewhat outraged that he ordered me to do something and astonished at the amount of grief in his voice.
"I said, get in the car." "Why?" Gee, me and my witty comebacks. "Because it's cold and it's fifteen blocks to your building. And because...
just because."
I look from him, to the distance in front of me. I oblige him and climb into the passenger seat. He pulls away from the curb and begins his line of questioning.
"Drinking alone?" "Not that it's any of your business." I look out the window. "I'll take that as a yes."
There's a brief period of silence that I relish in.
"How many have you had... of whatever you had?"
Damn it, he just had to ask me! And instead of actually thinking about it, I blurt out the first number that comes to mind.
"Four." "Four..." Sounds about right... "Of what?" He asks, catching a quick glance
of me before returning his eyes to the road.
We stop at a red light.
"Vodka martinis." I stare him in the eye, daring him to lecture me on my choice of drink. Like he has any right.
"We're here."
I don't even look at him, I just get out. He follows.
"Sure Mulder, you can come up." I say, with an agitated sigh. Might as well
take even more liberties with my character.
Fit the key in the lock. Fit, fit damn it! He takes the keys from my hands and puts the key easily in it's place and turns. I look at him for a brief moment and then push my way into my home. He's right on my heels.
I look at him, ask if he wants something, anything. He says he'll take whatever I've got. Beers, and luckily two of them. I tell him to sit down, I don't ask, I tell. He does of course, he knows I have a gun.
I sit next to him on the sofa, shrugging off my jacket and my heels. Then I turn to him and ask him what he was doing out so late.
"I was coming to see you." He says simply, taking a swig of the beer. Where
did the phantom beer come from anyhow...?
"And...?"
"And what?"
"What did you want to see me for?" I ask, raising a brow.
He shrugs. 'I don't know.' he says with his body.
"So you were coming over here to talk to me about... nothing..." I say and guzzle half of my bottle.
"Scully I-" He stops, this *has* to be good. "What?" I tried to make my voice sounds disinterested, but I just couldn't pull it off.
"Never mind. At the chance that I'll scare the shit out of you, I'll keep my mouth shut. I do have a question though..."
I don't bother asking what, because he's going to ask me anyway.
"Why were you drinking tonight? I mean, alone?" He stares at the bottle in his hand and then at me.
Silence. Silence for what seems like an eternity.
I notice the beer burning my lips, damn chap stick. It doesn't work...
"I'm lonely Mulder, okay?" I say quickly and quietly. "Every day."
He reaches over and strokes my hair.
"Well, that was why I was coming over. I was lonely. But you know what Scully?"
I peek up at him, as he still stroke my hair.
"What?" I ask.
"I'm only lonely when you're not around. I miss you on the weekends, at night when I go home, hell, I miss you when you go to get coffee in the morning."
I'm shocked, I know that. I don't feel much else of anything. I can still feel that odd sort of affection that comes to me from time to time. Yes, love, whatever.
"Uh, Mulder. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I mean I didn't-" But my words are halted as his lips touch delicately upon mine and all coherent thought flies of the window.
I'm softly kissing him back. It is not a kiss of passion or hunger. It is a
kiss of love and truth.
And when he pulls away from me I feel ashamed, and I don't know why. His eyes pry at me until I focus upon him. I don't speak.
"I'll... I guess I'll go now." He says softly and moves to pick up his leather jacket.
I grab his arm, alarming him, as well as myself.
"Stay with me Mulder." Now I can truly focus on his eyes, and see as he contemplates my request.
"Just, just stay."
And I fall to sleep content, for the first time in awhile.
*END*