Author's Notes: Written for the X-Files X-rated Facebook group challenge. The prompt was American Football. Note that it was not required to be NC-17 and was supposed to be fairly short, so I didn't do smut (sorry).

Spoilers: None. Set in my Virtual Season 8 universe, all you need to know is that Requiem never happened, and that Mulder and Scully are living together in their own place and still working the X-Files.

#5 in my Virtual Season 8 series.

Summary: Mulder's sudden interest in football causes Scully to take extreme action.

Thanks so much to my X-Files hating husband for reading over the football and betting parts and fixing them up for me. I guess he does come in handy now and then…

No other beta readers were harmed in the making of this fic.

First and Down
Rated R
Suzanne Feld

"Fumble! Goddamn it! No wonder Jensen was making fun of you idiots!"

Scully's hands paused on the keyboard. Even on another floor, with the door closed and music playing, she could hear Mulder's shouting. One might have thought that there was a large group of men in their den watching the football game but no, it was just her partner.

She took a breath and re-read the last few lines she'd typed. Though it was Sunday afternoon, she wanted to finish up her part of the abnormal physiology article that she and another pathologist at Quantico were co-authoring.

"I better not lose my money, you shitheads! Run, you asshole, run!"

And that's what I think I'll do, Scully thought, saving her document and turning off the monitor. Several hours of Mulder screaming at the TV was not what she'd planned on for a lazy Sunday afternoon, and she wasn't going to stay around for it if she didn't have to.

Even when she was changing into her sweats Scully could still hear him yelling, though not the words from this far away since their upstairs bedroom was the furthest from the front of the house. She could only hope that this was a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence, though with how it had come about that did, thankfully, seem likely.

She and Mulder had been having lunch in the eighth-floor cafeteria at the Hoover on Friday when loud voices from a nearby table had caught their attention. "They're fucking pussies, I tell you, the Giants are gonna crush 'em," a loud male voice proclaimed. Amid shushing, which he ignored, he continued, "They'll kick the ass of those pansy-boy Patriots."

The few other people in the large room were throwing disapproving looks his way, but the chunky male agent ignored them. "You got twenty bucks saying different, Sawyer? Hell, the Vegas line's Patriots by 4; I'll give you a touchdown!"

Mulder pushed back his chair and stood, to Scully's surprise. "If I take your bet, will you shut up and leave us all in peace?"

The other agent stood as well. Scully saw that his badge showed his name as Agent Daniel Jensen. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Spooky Mulder, on the X-Files," one of his tablemates snickered. "Can't believe you haven't heard of him. He chases little-"

"Born and raised in New England," Mulder interrupted, hands on hips. His suit jacket was pushed back, showing his lean torso in defiance to the other's paunch that hung out over the waistband of his pants. "Been a Pats fan all my life, in case you're wondering."

"I'll take you up on that," Jensen said as one of his tablemates also rose.

"Make it fifty and I'm in," the other one, previously addressed as Sawyer, shot out.

"I'll go you a hundred that the Pats win by seven, and a case of beer on top of it," Mulder snapped.

Male voices rang out taking the bet, and Scully dropped her head into her hands. Since when was Mulder interested in football? She had always thought that basketball and baseball were his thing. While she wasn't much of a fan, she didn't mind them and did enjoy going to games whether they were pro or Mulder's pickup basketball games at the Y or at the FBI gym.

When her partner sat down Scully pinned him with a glare. "What in the hell was that all about, Mulder?"

"Male pride, Scully," he replied, unaffected, picking up his half-eaten Reuben sandwich. "I can't have one of my teams dissed."

"Since when do you care about football?"

"My dad and I used to watch it every Sunday it was on, and sometimes Monday night as well when I was a kid. After Samantha disappeared it kind of just tapered off. He wasn't home as much, for one thing. How about your family?"

Scully finished the last of the iced tea in her glass and set it back on the table with a rattle of ice. "My dad, Bill, and Missy were the sports enthusiasts in our house; my mom liked going to the games but didn't care to watch sports on TV. Charlie played Little League for a few months, but that was about it for him."

"Melissa? I wouldn't have guessed it from her. She didn't, uh, seem like the type."

Scully smiled at the memory; even after all these years there was still an ache when she thought about Missy, but she wasn't about to let that color her remembrances. "She was the worst of them, next to my dad. My mom used to yell at her because she screamed so loud when they were watching games in the living room."

"And you?" His bright hazel eyes gazed at her over rye bread.

"Don't care much one way or another for sports, although I do like going to games with you. Guess I keep the family tradition alive that much."

He grinned across the table at her. "Gonna watch the football game with me on Sunday?"

She huffed. "Right. I'd rather have a colonoscopy without anesthesia."

Mulder laughed out loud, causing a few heads to turn. He popped the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. "I'm guessing that's a no. I might see if the guys want to come over. Did you have any plans?"

"Just working on my article for the pathology journal," she said as they rose, carrying their trays to the conveyor belt. "Keep in mind that I'll be in my office upstairs right above you."

Right, she thought as she jogged up the block towards their brownstone after an easy mile run around the neighborhood. Though they had the corner unit, she was surprised that the neighbors on the attached side hadn't complained yet about his yelling. Most likely they weren't home. Mulder clearly didn't care how loud he was, though she was grateful that the Gunmen hadn't taken him up on his offer so there weren't more noisy men in the house. She doubted that they were into sports at all, unless hacking into shadow-government servers was considered a sport.

She stepped into the foyer, memories of her and Mulder christening it a few months ago crossing her mind even as a wordless bellow of annoyance erupted from the den. Scully toed off her running shoes and set them on the black plastic mat next to the closet. Her eyes were faraway, remembering the wild sex they'd had on the floor of the entranceway the night they'd moved in—or, rather, Mulder had moved their stuff in while she was out of town on a case. That gave her an idea and Scully, never being one to procrastinate, immediately put it into action.

Mulder was perched on the edge of his black leather couch, which shared the den with a pair of her overstuffed chairs from the old apartment. It also held his coffee and end tables, and a brand-new 32" TV standing on a wooden cabinet which hid the VCR and cable box. She had gotten him the TV for a housewarming gift, not expecting anything in return, but he had surprised her with a brand-new covered bench swing for the back deck which she loved to sit and read in when weather permitted.

But reading was the furthest thing from her mind at the moment. By her estimate the football game had been on for only about an hour and a half, and had at least that long to go—if there wasn't a lot of overtime. However, she knew that the only reason he was watching it was because of the bet, and suspected that she wouldn't have too much trouble distracting him.

Which turned out to be the case. One of the reasons that Scully didn't shower before seducing him was because he had made it clear in the past that the scent of her honest workout perspiration turned him on. She hadn't built up much of a sweat, but enough that it did the trick. And how!

The den wasn't carpeted, instead having a blonde laminate wooden floor that only required the occasional damp mopping to keep it looking nice. But the couch wasn't up against a wall and so, as Mulder thrust wildly into her, it began to bump across the floor towards the doorway. She was too far gone in the throes of passion to care, though she was later relieved to find that it didn't scratch or otherwise mar the nice floor.

Sometime later they sprawled on the couch, Mulder's feet hanging over the armrest, just barely holding himself up on his elbows over her, panting, when they were done. Scully had planned to drag him off to the bedroom but neither had been able to wait, the game playing forgotten and silent on the TV. She had managed to mute the sound, at least.

"Wow, Scully, what brought about the afternoon delight?" Mulder murmured, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

She smiled and stretched up to meet his lips briefly. Though he was heavy on her, she loved this afterward, when they were so sated that neither wanted to move even if it was uncomfortable. "I couldn't get any work done while you were yelling at the TV, so I decided that this was a better use of my time," she half-lied. "I didn't think you'd mind being interrupted."

"You got that right." He carefully lifted himself off of her and Scully sat up, scooting to the edge of the cushion so she wouldn't make a mess on it. "I could care less about the game, although the Pats appear to be winning. So far. But I can find out the result of the game after we shower."

He handed over her panties and Scully shimmied into them, then swiped the grey t-shirt he'd been wearing and tugged it over her head. Mulder knew better than to protest and just pulled his jeans on, only buttoning them partway, before taking her hand and leading her upstairs.

###

"Sixty, eighty, one hundred—and twenty to buy a case of whatever beer you want," Agent Jensen said with bad grace, almost flinging the last bill into the other agent's outstretched hand.

Mulder had already collected his loot from the others who had been in on the bet, but had had to track Jensen down to get it. It took shaming him in front of everyone in the bullpen to get his winnings, but he had plans for the money and wasn't going to let him welsh on it.

That evening Mulder presented Scully with a small, wrapped present. He had taken her out to a nice restaurant and as soon as they were in the car, before he started it, he reached into the back seat and handed it to her. "I bought this with my winnings because you certainly deserve it for putting up with me," he said with a self-depreciating smile.

"You didn't have to," Scully demurred by rote, but was already tugging on the bright red ribbon that went around the square box. She loved presents, and he knew it. The paper tore off with a satisfying rip, then she held up the box quizzically. "Noise cancelling headphones, Mulder?"

"Bose noise-cancelling headphones, the best they make," he grinned, one arm thrown loosely over the steering wheel. "Take them out, see how they fit."

Scully wasn't too sure about this present; did it mean he'd be watching more football? She could only hope not. But she did as requested, finding that the inner packing was already loose and the padded black headphones came out easily enough. As she lifted them clear of the box, something soft tumbled out of them and into her lap. "What…?"

"Part two of your present," Mulder leered as she set the headphones on the dash, letting the box roll to her feet, and picked up the shimmery black material that had fallen. It turned out to be a tiny, lacy nightie, with peek-a-boo cups and matching black crotchless panties. "Headphones to block me out when you've had enough, and the lingerie in case you feel the need to interrupt me again. Or anytime you might happen to feel like wearing it."

Scully threw her head back and laughed like she rarely did, roaring at the car roof. "Oh my God, Mulder, and you say that I keep you guessing!"

He grinned back. "So if I decide to watch another football game at home, you're good with it?"

She smiled back, leaning over to give him a brief kiss before picking up the headphone box and packing everything back into it. "I'm more than good with it, Mulder. I recommend you watch next Sunday's game. Or at least try to."

Like he was going to wait until then to see Scully in that outfit, Mulder thought as he started the car. If that was what revved her engine, then there had to be a football game somewhere on cable this evening…

finis