Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Files, Mulder, Scully nor The Lone Gunmen.

This is my first shot at Mulder/Scully (really, anything X-Files related) fanfiction. I loved X-Files more than is probably considered healthy. This isn't a real angsty one, atleast not yet. Muahaha. Well, I don't know what it's going to turn into yet. Just read and find out! All reviews are appreciated.

-X-

7:15 a.m.

[Insert fancy name here] Hotel

Chicago, Illinois

She looked so damn cute. This had been the core of Mulder's thoughts since he'd met Scully outside her room fifteen minutes ago. There were no suits worn today. He'd picked a pair of blue jeans and a black sweater for his simple ensemble, and while Scully's outfit ran along much of the same lines, she seemed to pull it off so much better. Her jeans were light and her sweater was that pastel, Easter pink. It hugged her curves and looked nice beneath the glint of her golden cross. He absently feared he was gay when he realized the color complimented her hair excellently instead of clashing. Where did these thoughts come from? Frohike was gonna eat his heart out.

Yes, The Lone Gunmen had shown up for this shindig, too. In fact, they were the ones to invite Scully and himself along. It was a convention; no, not the kind where people ran around with plastic light sabers or shaved their heads so they'd look like the captain from Star Trek, but the kind where groups of intellectuals gathered for a weekend to discuss the imposing threats of capitalism and industrialized plots to keep the human race in darkness. Government conspiracies. And while Scully was reluctant, she had to admit that ran right up their alley. Besides, Mulder had promised they could make a fun weekend out of it while writing it off on their Bureau tab.

Scully was still half asleep in the elevator, so conversation was scarce. Actually, it didn't get past a bright "Good Morning!" from Mulder, who in Scully's mind was way too enthusiastic way too early. She'd merely grunted a mumbled greeting and closed her eyes. She'd be fine once she got some coffee into her.

The elevator doors slid open and the pair traveled across the grand lobby toward a small, corner cafe. They were to meet the Gunmen here. Large windows covered the complete right wall, facing out to the streets of Chicago. Citizens passed by without the knowledge that they were being carefully watched by the patrons within. The glass outside was tinted to look like every other panel on this building.

Scully slid into a booth and rested her chin in her hands as Mulder got in line. She considered the probability of Mulder taking a few hours to return so she could get some shut eye right then and there. The odds were against her. Her partner returned in a short five minutes and placed a large, steaming cup of caffiene before her. She raised an eyebrow at his beverage. Was he ever not drinking iced tea? It was forty degrees outside!

The comfortable silence between them ensued as she sipped the warm liquid. Immediatly, she felt the life returning to her. Apparently, it had gotten lost somewhere along their journey from her room to the cafe. Cool blue eyes blinked once, then twice. Scully released a content sigh and placed the half-empty cup on the table.

"So, did you sleep well?" Mulder asked, sipping his tea. He figured it was safe to chat now that he wasn't being accompanied by an animated corpse. An animated corpse with violent tendencies. He rubbed his face thoughtfully as he remembered early that morning. It was 6:30--much too early for Dana Scully--and she'd asked him the night before to wake her via the connecting door between their rooms. He'd barely shaken her shoulder, barely touched her at all, and she slapped the crap out of him.

"Yeah." Scully murmured, taking another sip of coffee. She might be awake enough to look like she was alive but she wasn't awake enough for any form of stimulating conversation. Mulder nodded and glanced over her right shoulder, a grin spreading across his face. Scully interpreted the look. Oh, God. Not yet! She sure as hell wasn't awake enough for that yet.

"Scully!"

The red-haired woman closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. When she opened her eyes Mulder was dangerously close to getting slapped again. Could he look any more amused? Frohike practically skipped to their table and cleared his throat.

"Hey, Frohike." Scully ground out politely.

"Mind if we, uh, scoot in?" Frohike smiled and the two agents scooted against the window. Three guesses who decided to get cozy with Scully. She supposed it could have been the fact that Langley was also jammed into their side while Byers and Mulder had a field day with all their room, but she knew Frohike didn't need to plaster himself to her. And...what the hell was with that hand on her leg?!

"Frohike," Scully said in a dangerously sweet tone. "If you want to keep your hand..."

"I know, I know," Frohike sighed with a devilish grin and drew back his appendage. "You make it very hard on me, Scully. Do you like to play hard to get?"

"I like to play..."

"Scully." Mulder's tone was an amused warning. Scully glowered and sighed, swallowing the venomous words, saving it for another time. The conversation that picked up after that was mildly interesting. Mostly just small talk. The Gunmen were currently working on a hacking program to intercept aircraft radio waves or something and blah, blah, blah. Scully didn't understand half of it and she really didn't want to. Half the stuff these guys did could get them arrested. Then again, the same could be said for Mulder and even herself on occasions.

Mulder could feel the intense boredom radiating from his partner ten minutes into a discussion about subliminal messages in children's programming. He met her eyes and exchanged a silent communication, most of it consisting of "Dear God, if you don't tell Frohike to stop rubbing up against me like some hormonal cat from hell I'm going to run upstairs, grab my gun and make sure he never touches anyone again."

"Hey, guys, when does this conference thing start?" Mulder asked, looking pointedly at Frohike. For some reason, every time Mulder focused his attention on the small lech his hands left Scully and a few good inches magically appeared between them.

"Not until 9:00," Byers glanced at his watch. "But we can leave now. Most of the stuff will be set up and we can check out the goods."

The small, strange group slid out of the booth and Scully quickly put a couple feet between herself and the tiny, bespectacled man. Ending up by her partner's side, she shot him a weary glance.

"Fun weekend?" She murmured quietly so only he could hear.

"Later," Mulder promised, "I'll get you something extra special if you don't kill anybody."

His words sounded like those of a mother trying to calm a crying child, hoping to get through a trip to the supermarket without incident. Scully sighed and followed the others out. Mulder kept pace beside her--probably ready to grab her in case she jumped poor Frohike.

"We'll take our van, if that's alright with you." Byers offered. "You'll have to sit in the back."

"Sounds fine," Mulder offered when Scully gave no rebuke. The group of five traversed the large parking garage until approaching a dirty white van with a medium-sized LGM logo on the side. It didn't even surprise her anymore, Scully thought. This trip was going to test her patience and her mind. But Mulder was here and he calmed her a bit. Nothing like familiarity among unpleasant surroundings. Scully felt like she was being kidnapped as Mulder offered a hand to boost her into the van and Langley slammed the doors behind her. She settled against the ridged, metal bottom beside Mulder and pulled her legs to her chest.

"Don't look so tortured," Mulder grinned, leaning close to her ear to speak. Scully was immediatly distracted by the sensation of his warm breath fanning across her neck. Man, if she could feel like this for the rest of the day, that would be excellent. She probably wouldn't mind Frohike's advances with this degree of light-headedness.

"I can't help myself. This is as close to a dungeon as it gets." She deadpanned in response. Mulder chuckled and ruffled her hair affectionately. She scowled softly, always professing she hated when he did that but deep down enjoying the simple contact. Somehow, he knew this. When it came to those deep down thoughts, he became the psychic.

"Do these guys even have licenses?" Scully narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the three men strapping in up front.

"Byers does, I think." Mulder mused.

"So...why is Langley driving?"

Mulder shrugged innocently before his faux expression melted into a grin. Scully sighed and rested her chin on folded arms. Roaring to life in a deafening way, they thundered out of the parking lot to the tune of some heavy metal song. They encroached a sharp turn and Scully honestly thought they were going to flip for a second. She slammed into Mulder's side instead.

"Hey, watch it, Langley." Mulder called above the music. "Got some fragile cargo back here."

The blonde just bopped his head to the music, wild hair whipping Byers in the face. The van cruised onto the freeway and met the early morning traffic. Wonderful. Frohike reached over and turned the music down. Well, there was one redeeming action, Scully thought.

"You ever been to one of these, Scully?" Frohike turned in his seat with excited eyes.

"I can't say I have," she replied, truly trying to keep any hint of malice from her voice. She knew Frohike wasn't a mean man and his straight-forward, often hands-on, quality was in his nature. Probably built straight into his genes. Wouldn't that be a scientific discovery? Perversion coded into a man's DNA. Scully slyly slipped Mulder a glance. He was staring at the van's wall opposite of him, thinking. Maybe Mulder had a touch of that gene, too, if that video collection that "wasn't his" was any indication.

"Oh, well you should definitly let me give you the grand tour once we arrive!" Frohike's excitement was barely contained. In this situation, one couldn't be sure if it was because of the outrageous booths and people they were likely to encounter at this gathering or because in his mind, escorting her around was the equivalent of a date.

"Sorry, Frohike." Mulder interrupted her carefully devised response. "I already promised Scully we'd hit the food first. We haven't eaten yet."

"Oh." The man's face fell. "Later, then."

"Sure." Scully said, but it sounded more like "Not a chance in hell."

Scully sighed softly to herself, earning a small glance from her partner. Deciding she had been the morning bitch long enough, the red head inwardly promised herself that she'd try to be nicer the remainder of the day. She was just tired. Exhaustion didn't put her in the nicest of moods. There was no need to use Frohike as a target for her frustration.

"Shit!" Langley slammed on the breaks but the van kept going. The impact jerked the passengers forward and caused another minor crash in the back. Scully found herself sprawled across her partner's lap in the process. Instead of recognizing the potentially awkward situation, Mulder gently lifted Scully off of him, steadying her, making sure she was okay.

"Oops." Langley muttered.

No. She didn't need to take anything out on Frohike today. Not when there was another chronic idiot just begging for a beating.