Disclaimer – this is a very random bit of fluffy silliness I wrote to counteract a very serious day at the office. The song that inspired it is 'American Music' by the Violent Femmes. Enjoy!

Their office in the basement was usually quiet. The normal office noises associated with hundreds of federal employees and their secretaries didn't quite reach this far down. For this reason, Special Agent Dana Scully was perplexed to hear the hum of music as she walked down the hallway. She opened the office door to find her partner seated at his desk, feet propped next to his PC, tapping a pencil on some paperwork. A portable radio she didn't recognise was playing what sounded like Nirvana.

"Looks like this is a very good morning," she said by way of greeting. She walked to her desk, setting down her bag and taking off her coat.

Mulder grinned at her. "Frohike left me a mixed tape in the mail. I'm waiting for the tape to end so that I can play it backwards and hear what I'm meant to hear."

"Sweet that he made you a mixed tape. Do you think he'll want to wear your letter jacket?" Scully teased.

"He knows I'm taken," Mulder said contentedly, giving her a look.

She felt the rise of butterflies in her stomach and cast around for a change in topic. The music had changed to a Violent Femmes number she faintly recognised and she grabbed the opportunity gratefully. "Hey, this sounds familiar."

"This is American music," Mulder replied. He got to his feet and placed his hand on the small of her back, then twirled her around as he sang. "Do you like American music? I like American music. Don't you like American music, baby?"

"Mulder," she began to protest. "I don't know how to dance."

"I beg to differ," he responded, continuing to dance with her around the office. His steps followed some semi-waltzy type of pattern and she begun to relax, feeling the strength of his arm around her waist.

I want you to hold me. I want your arms around me. I want you to hold me, baby.

"See?" Mulder said, guiding her around her desk. "You do know how to dance. All you need is a male lead who doesn't step on your toes."

I need a date to the prom. Would you like to come along?

"So where did you learn your Michael Flatley skills?"

"It's innate," he proclaimed. "If you can walk, you can dance."

They didn't like American music. They never heard American music. They didn't know the music was in my soul, baby.

"I find it hard believing that you are this naturally talented at everything you do," Scully replied. She was beginning to enjoy the impromptu dance, silly as she suspected she looked. "To be honest, Mulder, it wouldn't be quite fair to the rest of us mortals if you're gifted at it all."

"You think of me as gifted?" he asked, peering at her inquisitively, as though she suggested something novel for him to contemplate.

She rolls her eyes at him. "You know that everybody who has met you think of you as gifted. I'm sure it's written in your personnel file. "

"Everybody I met, thinks of me as spooky," he said, spinning her around and dipping her. She was close enough to see the glint of a smile in his eyes, to smell the familiar scent of his soap and aftershave, to see that he had missed a button on his shirt this morning. The unexpected intimacy set her heart fluttering and she had to concentrate to avoid stepping on his feet.

"I don't think of you as spooky."

"You don't?"

"No. You're very passionate and there is always a fine line between passion and perceived … spookiness."

As the song crashed to an end, he dipped her again and held her close to his body. He kissed her cheek softly, his lips barely grazing her skin. "Thank you for the dance, ma'am."

She surprised them both by slipping her hands around his face and kissing his mouth. "Thanks for the silliness."