Thanks to everyone for the kind wishes and thoughts...and I gotta stop believing my own P.R. from these stories... the bruises on my wrists are healing nicely, thank you... (wincing slightly)
Touchdownby Sheryl Martin
Dana Scully closed the file drawer noisily, hearing the metal on metal scream as she turned to rest her back on the tall cabinet. Sighing deeply, she stared at Fox Mulder, engrossed in a newspaper.
ÒYou know, you could help out here. Some of this paperwork is your fault, you know.Ó She walked over to his desk, flicking a few shells into the wastepaper basket.
ÒThe Redskins are in town again... wanna go? I can call up and see if theyÕve got any good tickets left?Ó His hazel eyes never lifted from the page. Dana rolled her eyes heavenward.
ÒI have never understood this male fascination with football. I watched my two brothers and my father and countless men...Ó A smirk crossed MulderÕs face for a second as he raised his eyebrows. ÒStare at the screen like football was the greatest thing in the world next to sex.Ó She moved back to her own desk, sitting down behind the stacks of paper. ÒMale bonding rituals still throw me.Ó
ÒScully, football is a time-honoured tradition and ceremony to celebrate the true aggressive style of man.Ó Fox chomped on a seed. ÒNothing that sexual about it anyway... well, not that much.Ó
ÒOh, really?Ó Dana smiled sweetly. ÒQuarterbacking?Ó
ÒPenalty flags.Ó He countered.
ÒSpiking in the end zone?Ó
"Tight end."
"Taking their position on the field..." She lifted an eyebrow.
ÒFirst down.Ó He got up from his desk, walking over to stand in front of her, his eyes twinkling with the challenge.
ÒKickoff.Ó
ÒCatching the ball.Ó
ÒTackling the receiver.Ó
ÒPenalty flag again, Scully.Ó He leaned down, resting his elbows on the desk as he grinned.
ÒLong bomb.Ó
ÒSecond down.Ó
ÒHuddle.Ó She whispered, watching his eyes widen.
ÒAvoiding the defence.Ó
ÒThird down.Ó
ÒTime out.Ó
ÒPunting.Ó
ÒFive yard penalty.Ó He moved closer. ÒAnother penalty, Scully...Ó
ÒFourth down.Ó
ÒTen seconds on the clock...Ó
ÒBreaking the defensive line.Ó
ÒTouchdown.Ó
She leaned forward, inches from his face. ÒField goal.Ó
ÒAh...Ó
ÒKicking the ball right between the uprights...Ó Dana shoved a stack of paper into his hands. ÒGet to work, Mulder.Ó Spinning on her heel, she walked out of the office, a wide grin on her face.
Wincing, he returned to his desk, taking deep breaths. Staring at the door, he smiled.
ÒAnd thatÕs the first half of the game...Ó
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ÒThe bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each otherÕs life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof.ÓRichard Bach -- ÒIllusionsÓ