Timeline: 7x14 Theef
Category: Post-episode fiction
"I wish I could conjure up an extra large pizza right about now," Mulder announced as he pulled his apartment door closed behind him. "You don't happen to have any goofer dust on you, do you?" he asked, tossing his car keys down.
"Enough voodoo, Mulder," Scully replied with a heavy sigh.
She balanced herself against the arm of his sofa as she slipped out of her three inch black heels. They might be hurting her, but Mulder was sorry to see them go.
He snapped to when he realized that she was aware that he was staring and was leveling him with one of her looks. This look was required on those occasions when he wasn't so smooth about stealing glances at his partner. Sometimes a man just had to sit in appreciation of the work of the gods. It would be wise to keep that opinion to himself, however.
"Luckily, we do have phones," he said, digging in his pocket for his cell phone. "The cell phone is the urban warrior's goofer dust. It just doesn't bring the pizza as quickly as I would like," he grumbled, flipping the phone open and rubbing his stomach with his free hand.
Scully collapsed into his couch, brushing her hair out of her face. "Good things come to those who wait," she replied limply.
Mulder stole one more glance at her before dialing the number of the nearest pizza place. He was hoping Scully wasn't just quoting well-worn proverbs. He'd been surprised when she'd agreed to come back to his apartment after they'd landed at Reagan. Surely she'd rather be at home stretched out in a tub than hanging around his apartment. Unless…
Lately she had been full of surprises.
Scully tucked her legs underneath her and to the side. It was a little awkward, but it was the only way she could get reasonably comfortable in her black pencil skirt. She searched for the television remote as Mulder placed their order, vaguely hearing his monotone voice rattle off their usual order: half pepperoni and half mushroom. It had been a real victory to get Mulder to break down and begin ordering her mushrooms. He'd said it went against his principles. She found the remote wedged between two cushions just as he added a Greek salad to the order. He was nearly spilling over with thoughtfulness.
He tossed his cell phone on the table where it joined his keys in a heap with the clatter of plastic meeting metal.
"That's why you're always going through phones, Mulder," she advised him, pressing the power button on the remote.
"Haven't you heard? We live in a disposable culture."
"Just leaves you open to a Skinner lecture," she said with a shrug.
"He can have my badge over it," Mulder responded flatly. He stalked over to her. "Hand it over," he said, reaching for the remote as he slumped back into the couch.
"Nope," she said, leaning away from him so that he wouldn't try to take it from her. "I want my way this time."
"You always want your way," he teased with a smirk. "Besides, I ordered you a salad."
"I heard," she said, pausing as she flipped past several channels of programming that didn't catch her eye. "But, you know, the chivalry of that gesture is diminished by your attempt to use it as a bargaining chip."
"I could have used these helpful little hints all along Scully," he replied flippantly, lacing his fingers behind his head. "To improve my record with the ladies."
"There's no help for a lost cause, Mulder," she said, quirking an eyebrow.
"You wound me deeply," he said, his hands slipping from behind his head to clutch at his chest. Looking at the program Scully had seemingly settled upon, Mulder groaned, "Not this. Anything but this."
"I'm not watching the SciFi channel tonight, Mulder," Scully responded, leaning forward to place the remote on the coffee table out of Mulder's reach.
"Don't you get sick of this?" he asked, gesturing towards the screen.
"Do I give you trouble about your viewing habits?"
"I think you might have the wrong idea about my viewing habits."
He got the feeling that his video collection had led her to believe that he spent most of his evenings masturbating alone on this couch. It was surprising she'd even agree to sit on the damn thing, considering.
"Mmhmm…" Scully replied skeptically. "Besides, it's Shark Week. Doesn't everybody watch Shark Week?"
"I don't know. You think Rob Roberts watched Shark week?"
"No X-Files for ten minutes, Mulder," Scully said with a quick look at her watch.
Mulder sighed dramatically, and they settled into ten minutes of uninterrupted Shark Week programming. He was left to his thoughts as the show began to count down the first three deadliest sharks on their list.
Number ten was the Lemon Shark with its excellent vision. Orel Peattie had been able to blind Scully with a couple of pins jabbed in the eyes of his poppet. She'd described the sudden loss of sight in detail to Mulder on their flight home. And for once she didn't think that it was caused by something she could explain away with science—like hysterical blindness or conversion disorder.
Number nine was the Blue Shark, which is a far ranging species and an excellent traveler. Mulder wasn't the best traveler, but he certainly had a lot of practice. Airplane seats were too small with not enough leg room and airline employees not as attractive a distraction as they'd once been. Still, he often enjoyed crisscrossing the country with his partner in tow. She was petite, which helped with the leg room, and she amply made up for the general loss of appeal amongst the flight staff.
Number eight on the list was the Hammerhead Shark, which included nine different species of shark—some of which that could reach up to fifteen feet in length. These sharks are very sensitive and all of them are dangerous to humans. But they looked harmless. They looked cartoonish. Otherworldly even. Or like something that the aliens might take up with them into their spaceship once they decided to destroy the planet and take home some interesting samples for their intergalactic zoo.
"Well, this is better than Snake Master or whatever we were watching in your hotel room," he admitted as the commercial break began.
"Still squeamish about the snakes, hmm?" she asked, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly.
"Yeah, I am. Glad my misery amuses you. We might have gotten along a lot better if I'd known from the start that you were a sadist, Scully. I could have bought you a whip."
Scully rewarded him with a closed fist pop to his thigh and Mulder responded in kind with a show of faux pain.
"Okay, okay," he said holding his hands up in surrender. "Mea culpa. But enough with the sharks. Let's find something else to watch. My house, my rules," he said with a broad smile.
"I think you've got it backwards. The guest's wishes are supposed to be deferred to in polite society."
"You step inside this apartment, Scully, and you've left polite society behind. I operate strictly on boyhood rules. My house, I bat first. That sort of thing," he stated as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and began to roll the sleeves up to his elbows.
Scully blinked slowly. "I bet you were an annoying kid."
She raked her eyes over him, crossing her arms over her chest and pursing her lips. Catching sight of her gaze, Mulder wondered briefly what the physical appraisal was about. Her posture was defensive, but Scully's physical posturing could be misleading.
"I'll let the estimation of my behavior as a child go as so much worthless speculation," he said leaning into her space, "but I draw the line at letting some girl dictate my viewing habits in the comfort of my own home."
"You should just be happy this girl has eyes to see your television with," Scully responded coolly, as if his closeness could not shake her calm exterior.
"You're right," he said straightening up somewhat before shutting his eyes and reaching his hands out searchingly to pat the air.
"What are you doing?" she asked dully, refusing to look at Mulder's antics.
"My best impression of you. Isn't this what it looked like?"
"Har har, Mulder. Very funny."
"Good thing I found his Scully poppet," he said, his eyes snapping back open as he blindly searched his way back into her space, patting her leg with his open palms.
"Mulder…" she replied warningly.
He was inching into dangerous territory, but he couldn't help but leave his palms pressed lightly against the fabric of her thigh. She was warm beneath his touch. It made his pulse quicken.
"I like your baby blues the way they are, is all I meant," he said with a smile, still lingering only a hair's breath away from her.
She cocked her head at him and he could see the twinkle in her eyes from the blue light emanating from his fish tank. It would be so easy to kiss her with her head at that angle and her lips so tantalizingly close to his.
"I said no more voodoo, Mulder. You can't work your charm on me," she said, pushing him back away from her with an outstretched index finger.
"That's not even my good stuff. I'm saving my real voodoo for later."
Scully untwined her legs from underneath her and rolled her neck, trying to work the kinks out still from the long flight. "Yeah? What's that?"
"Seeing if you'll stay the night."
Mulder licked his lips nervously when Scully didn't respond immediately. It wasn't an invitation to cross any lines they hadn't already been crossed.
Unless she wanted it to be.
Scully swallowed. He could see the muscles in her neck working. He'd unnerved her with his forwardness. The other times they had slept in the same bed together, it had been spontaneous. It had gotten late and the suggestion had been casually made and accepted. He realized this offer smacked of forethought, which made her uneasy.
A knock sounded on the door, and Mulder noted that Scully jumped slightly.
He held up one finger as he stood. "Don't run off anywhere," he requested. He wasn't so sure she wouldn't try for the door as soon as he opened it.
He paid the delivery boy and kicked the door shut with his foot, carrying the box with the paper bag that held the salad balanced on top over to the couch. He leaned down to deposit the results of his manly hunt for food on the coffee table, looking over his nose at her as he did so.
"I don't want you wrapping yourself around a telephone pole at one in the morning," he explained, standing upright and rubbing the back of his neck. "You were falling asleep in the terminal a couple of hours ago."
Her eyes darted from the pizza box to his for one moment, holding his anxious gaze. He wasn't being entirely truthful with her. Yes, he was worried about her safety—driving home late at night after a long flight. But, he was also thinking how nice it would be to spend the night with his body curled against hers. How nice it would be to do this and not have the cause be some monumental disaster in their lives, but just two friends alone together. Friends who sometimes kiss. And sometimes sleep in the same bed. Two friends sharing the night.
"You wouldn't have any salve to bring me back from the dead, I suppose," Scully said quietly.
"Not on hand at least," he said, biting his lip.
Scully reached for the box, peeking under the lid. "This smells heavenly."
Mulder took that as an invitation to sit back down.
"I'll sleep on the couch," he offered.
It wasn't what he'd had in mind, but he could be a gentleman. He could pretend he wasn't everyday hoping that the changes in their relationship were signs of something yet to come.
Scully looked at him out of the corner of her eye and chuckled to herself. "That ship has sailed, I think."
'Hadn't it?' she thought to herself as she unrolled the top of the paper bag, giving the salad her attention. Technically, although they'd begun to cross a line she'd drawn in the sand many years ago, she could still sound the retreat; she had every right to do so. But she rather liked these moments they shared. Sitting together, sharing a pizza, arguing over what to watch. Sometimes managing to get Mulder to forget about the X-Files for ten minutes altogether. And she rather liked having someone to hold. Someone she could rest her head against. Even though doing this with her partner made her feel like she was balanced five hundred feet up without a net. Dangerously thrilling. Like his kisses.
Besides, she still had this in hand. She thought she could steer them clear of disaster, even with Mulder's penchant for blurred boundaries and ever expanding capacity for attachment. She couldn't walk away anymore—if she ever could—but she comforted herself that she was a grown woman fully in control of her own actions.
Moreover, if she did begin to panic and demand that they return to their former state of professionalism, then she'd have Mulder sitting there across from her every day with that same blank look of panic.
"Don't spoil your dinner, sitting there in a tizzy, Mulder," she said indulgently, letting go of the bag and reaching her hand over to squeeze his knee. "We can spoon up and fall asleep like little baby cats later."
THE END