Scully turned around at the sound of clicking heels on the floor announcing an unexpected visitor to their basement office. She caught herself before her eyes narrowed skeptically, and put on a polite, composed expression.
"Hello, Agent Scully," the visitor said, obviously struggling with friendliness just as Scully was.
"Detective White," she acknowledged with a forced smile. "What brings you to DC?"
"Oh, uh," the woman looked around the office, stepping in further to peer around the corner. "I- I'm attending a conference."
Scully nodded, then arched her brow and said, "Looking for something?"
Detective White stopped her prying assessment of the room. "Um, no, I mean, yes," she stammered, her nonchalant facade cracking under the weight of Scully's scrutiny. "I was hoping, um, I stopped by to see if, to see if Agent Mulder was around."
Scully nodded again, this time knowingly. "Well, Agent Mulder is-"
Before she could tell Detective White that Mulder had stepped out of the office, he appeared in the doorway. "'Agent Mulder is' what?" he asked, grinning. "Detective White. Nice to see you again."
Scully stifled a roll of the eyes as she watched the detective swoon over the basic greeting.
"Oh, Angela, you can call me Angela," she said. "It's nice to see you, too."
Mulder walked over to the desk and smiled at Scully in a way she couldn't figure out. He handed her the file he had gone to get from the third-floor documents room and then turned back to Angela. "Any more satanic cult findings in Comity, Det- er, Angela?"
Angela huffed out a laugh. Scully, looking down at the now open file in her hands, interjected in a dull tone: "There were no satanic cult findings in Comity, Mulder. By saying 'any more' you are implying that there were some to begin with, which there were not."
Mulder and Angela looked at Scully, then at each other. Angela shrugged her shoulders and shook her head slightly like she was amusedly baffled by his partner's attitude.
"Uh, thank you for clarifying, Scully," Mulder said. She was still engrossed (or pretending to be engrossed) in the file. Mulder's eyebrows knitted, and he addressed Angela again. "What can we do for you?" he asked, sitting down at the desk.
"Oh, um, nothing," she said, staring at Scully.
Mulder looked from one woman to the other. Scully was seemingly ignoring them, and Angela was looking at her as though through the sheer force of her thoughts she could get Scully to leave the room.
"Okaaay," Mulder muttered, nonplussed.
"I mean, I wanted to see if maybe you would like to have dinner with me tonight," said Angela with a hint of renewed confidence. "Agent Mulder," she added softly, lest it was misconstrued that she wanted to have dinner with the two of them.
Both Scully and Mulder looked back at her in surprise. Mulder was flattered, and he felt himself blush, but he wasn't sure if it was because of Angela's invitation or Scully's presence during it.
Scully scoffed, "It's Valentine's Day." Angela glared at her. "Sorry," said Scully, excusing her interruption. "I can see this is incredibly awkward for you."
Angela made an offended sort of huff. "No, it's not incredibly awkward for me, Agent Scully," she snapped back.
Scully remained droll. "My mistake." She turned to Mulder, who sat enthralled by their exchange, and held up the file. "This is the wrong file, Mulder. I'm going to go get the correct one." Scully breezed by Angela on her way out, giving her an impudent little smirk. "Been a pleasure, Detective White."
Mulder shrugged sheepishly. "I don't- she- uh, I'm ...sorry," he said in way of an explanation.
Angela's demeanor completely changed once Scully had left. She walked to where Scully had been standing next to him and leaned back, resting her butt on the desk. "So I have a reservation at Chez Quis. I hear they do this prix fixe menu for two that is to die for."
"Oh, I, uh…" Mulder wasn't quite sure how to respond. Then Angela bent down and flirtatiously fiddled with his tie, making him more flustered.
"I know it's Valentine's Day so it's kinda weird, but I just thought we had a nice chemistry. I think we'd have a good time, what does it matter what day it is, you know?"
She was now even closer than before. Mulder expected her to crawl into his lap next with the way she kept creeping toward him. But then she brought him to her by tugging roughly on his tie. Angela moved to whisper in his ear, their cheeks touching, her hot breath falling on his skin. "Don't you think we could have fun, Agent Mulder?"
Mulder felt her lips make contact with his neck. Unlike her hot breath, her lips were cold. It didn't feel bad, but it wasn't all-together pleasant either—there was a gracelessness to her overture that was rather off-putting.
He scooted back in his chair, taking back his tie from her grasp. "Thank you for the, um, offer, Angela, but I don't think it's a good idea."
She pursed her lips, trying to hide the pout that was forming. "Okay, now it's incredibly awkward for me. I'm just glad Agent Scully isn't here to witness it."
Mulder let a chuckle escape. "Me too."
Angela looked at him askance. "Did I really read into it all wrong? We had a connection, I thought."
"The planetary alignment had everything out of whack."
"I don't know if I believe that. And besides, I'm still thinking about you a month later."
Mulder bit his lip; he didn't know what to say. "It's Valentine's Day?" he said, shrugging. "Not being in a relationship during the holiday can bring up all sorts of feelings, but not necessarily true feelings."
"You're going to use a calendar date as an explanation again? Really?" said Angela, teasing. "So what's wrong with two lonely people sharing dinner on a night dedicated to couples then?"
"Nothing. There's nothing wrong with that. Only I'm not lonely."
"You're not?"
Mulder smiled wistfully. "I have Scully."
When Scully finally got back to the office, Detective White was long gone, but traces of her perfume remained. Scully scowled as the scent reached her olfactory nerves. Hadn't Mulder mentioned that Detective White wore his favorite perfume? thought Scully, disdainfully.
Mulder looked up at her from the desk and grinned. She didn't return the gesture, instead she dropped the file in front of him.
"Thanks, Scully," he said, picking it up. He leafed through it, noticing she had been right about him having gotten the wrong file. Mulder had thought, for sure, she'd used it as an excuse to flee the office.
Scully saw a faint ring of pink lipstick on Mulder's collar that hadn't been there before, and her chest suddenly felt tight. She cleared her throat. "I'm gonna cut out early if that's okay," said Scully, tersely, going to retrieve her coat and purse.
"What?"
"It's 4 o'clock. We aren't going to make much headway on this for today," she said, motioning to the file as she shrugged on her coat.
"C'mon Scully, that's silly," Mulder razzed.
"What is?" she asked with such earnestness that it rattled him.
"The whole…" he waved his hands, indicating something he thought was obvious.
"The whole what, Mulder?" She wanted to hear him say it, to say exactly what he thought was silly about the situation.
"You know…"
"No, I don't," Scully said. "I'm going home. Have a great evening." She turned and walked out the door, muttering under her breath, "I hope it's fucking magical."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Scully set the carton of ice cream out on the counter to thaw. It was a known fact that if you're single on Valentine's Day it's acceptable to have ice cream for dinner. She went into the living room and looked at the three videos she had rented on her way home, trying to decide on which one she would watch first. A knock at the door interrupted her decision-making.
She opened it to a very dashing Mulder, dressed in one of his nicest suits and least offensive ties. He looked so good, Scully was rendered speechless for a moment. Then she saw him look her over and she snapped herself out of it, cringing as she remembered what she was wearing—a threadbare Quantico t-shirt with holes in it and ratty gym shorts.
"What are you doing here?" she asked out loud, but in her mind she warned him, Better not be shoving your romantic Valentine's date in my face.
"Get dressed, Scully," he said, not answering her question. Mulder stepped by her into the apartment.
Scully, flummoxed, closed the door, then turned to him, squaring her shoulders. "If you're wanting me to be a third wheel on your date, Mulder, I swear to god…"
"No. God, no, Scully," said Mulder, quickly; he couldn't believe that possibility had even crossed her mind. "I told Angela 'no.'"
"Oh."
"C'mon, get dressed. I'm taking you out."
"Where? Every restaurant is going to be packed."
"Don't worry about it," he said, shooing her away to her bedroom. "Something nice. Like upscale nice."
She looked back at him before closing her door, and suddenly she was young again with first date butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. But this wasn't a date, it was Mulder, and all he had said was that he was taking her out. But he looked so good, like there had been a bit of effort put into it. She didn't know what to think.
And she didn't know what to wear, either. There were a couple of dresses in the back of her closest from back when she had actually had a life and went out. She pulled out some contenders and laid them on the bed. The black shift dress was eliminated first. She really only kept it around for funerals, and it kind of resembled her workplace attire. Scully wanted to wear something different, not be so austere. She hung it back in the closet next to a frilly white lace blouse that she recalled wearing on a date—my last date, she thought in horror. My last date almost three fucking years ago.
She pushed aside that rather disturbing thought and mulled over the other two dresses. It was between a tailored navy dress with long sleeves and a red silk gown with spaghetti straps. They both accented her curves, but the red dress showed more skin. And red was a very Valentine-y color. Might as well get into the spirit of it, she thought, putting the navy one away.
"Jesus Christ, Scully, I said something nice, not something that can give me a heart attack," Mulder exclaimed when she came out. The dress seemed to flow, but was also fitted, showing off the lithe shape of her body. Her toned shoulders were bared, strong yet delicate with the alluring dips of her collarbone and just the hint of cleavage. Mulder tried not to think too much about the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra underneath it, and he almost moaned a protest when she wrapped a matching shawl around herself, but even then she was breathtaking.
She had put on makeup; it was different than what she did for work. Her eyes were lined with smokey black liner which made her blue irises more striking than ever. And her lips. They were a deep red, like the dress. Mulder shifted where he stood, the sight of her rousing every part of him.
Scully's cheeks tinged pink. "Too much?"
"No, not at all. It's just right," he assured her, conscious of how his voice now had a breathless quality. "Scully, you are stunning."
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well, thank you, Mulder. You clean up pretty well yourself."
Mulder motioned to the videos on the coffee table, Carrie, My Bloody Valentine, and The Silence of the Lambs. "Quite the line-up you had planned."
"Horror is the only acceptable genre of movie to watch on Valentine's Day."
"I did not know that," mused Mulder. "You really don't like the holiday?"
"It's not that I don't like it. I just think it's contrived and ...silly."
Mulder chuckled. "Silly," he said, repeating the word. Her use of it brought them both back to their stand-off in the office earlier, and they stared at each other. "Well, let's be silly together."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The cab pulled up outside Chez Quis and they got out.
"Mulder, how the hell did you get a reservation here?"
He just smiled and ushered her toward the crowded entrance with his hand at the small of her back.
They approached the hostess. "Good evening. Reservation?"
"Uh, yes, under the name White," said Mulder, nervously adjusting his tie. He glanced at Scully who stifled a giggle.
"Wonderful," said the hostess. "Right this way."
She led Mulder and Scully to their table and left them with menus. "I hear they have a prix fixe dinner for two that's to die for," Mulder said.
"Where'd you hear that?" He shrugged, and Scully shook her head at him and laughed.
Mulder ordered them a bottle of wine and the prix fixe dinner. The sommelier came over and suggested two pairings to which Mulder said, "Surprise us." The man made a big production of uncorking the bottle of the '92 Olga Raffault Chinon "Les Picasses," telling them about its character and its small-batch origin.
Once he left, Mulder held up his glass, "To silliness," he said.
They clinked glasses, Scully grinning widely. She was utterly charmed by him tonight and she let herself enjoy the feeling.
"I can't believe you usurped Detective White's reservation."
"I can't believe you just used 'usurp' in that context," Mulder retorted.
Scully huffed out a laugh, then grew pensive. "I was so rude to her earlier."
"Nah," countered Mulder. "The alignment made everything, everyone, crazy. And those are the circumstances under which you met. There's bound to be some residual negativity."
"What about with us?"
"What do you mean?"
"We were so combative with each other," recalled Scully. "Is there any of this residual negativity between us?"
"No. In fact, I think the opposite."
Scully regarded him thoughtfully. "How so?"
"I told you that I visited Madame Zirinka and she explained the planetary phenomenon to me. She said that it would affect some people more than others and that relationships were going to suck. And when she said that I knew we were okay—that if our connection was insignificant then the force of the planets wouldn't have bothered with us."
He had started out looking directly at her, but when he said the word "relationships" his eyes fell downward, shyly. Now he looked back up with sincerity, but still a shy smile on his lips. "Actually, I was honored that the cosmos thought so highly of us."
They shared a long look, then Mulder broke it, self-consciously, with some levity. "She also called the location a 'cosmic G-spot.'"
"What kind of Madame was she, Mulder?" Scully teased.
Their dinner came and they enjoyed it with the wine and the company, sharing horror stories of past Valentine's Days and dates gone wrong. They were both relaxed and their conversation flowed easily. It was the best date that either of them had ever been on, and it wasn't even a date. Whatever it was, Scully thought, it was so much more than could be described in modern romance terms. Normally, when Scully let her mind wander to these kinds of thoughts about her partner, she quickly rebuked them. She didn't do that tonight, though—she let the feeling permeate her soul. Just like the tannins had aged that wine so beautifully, their bond, too, had been developed over time—the same amount of time, in fact, as the wine.
Mulder noticed a deepened blush on her cheeks. "Warm in here, huh?"
She put a hand up to her heated skin. "I think I've had too much wine," she said.
"It's really good, isn't it? I've never been big on wine, but this one makes me think I've been missing out this whole time."
Mulder swirled the last bit in his glass and brought it to his lips, Scully watching, captivated. The warmth of the wine and her thoughts had lulled her into a sort of aphrodisiacal trance.
He set the empty glass down on the table. "Hoo, I'm feeling it, too," he said, his cheeks now also flushed. "I'm glad I had the forethought about the cab."
"You've thought of everything, Mulder."
"Have I?" He felt like he was playing catch-up. They had been partners for three years, and Scully had become the most important person in his life. Why had he waited until some random woman intruded with her awkward advances to finally show Scully how special she was to him. He knew that they were both dancing around classifying this evening as a date. His relationship with Scully surpassed such simplicity. Just like the phenomena they investigated, their connection could not be programmed, categorized, or easily referenced.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Mulder had the cab go to Scully's first. She got out and Mulder scooted to the edge of the seat, leaning out of the open door.
"Thank you for tonight, Mulder," Scully said. "Do you want to come up," however, was swimming in the ocean of her mind, around and around in a whirlpool.
Mulder replied with an affectionate grin, "Happy Valentine's Day, Scully," but the silent begging of "Invite me in" had replaced the thudding beat of his heart.
Scully bent down and kissed him on the cheek, lingering there with her hand resting on his chest.
It would not happen tonight.
But, when she pulled back and looked at him, they saw in each other's eyes the inevitability of it, how it was written in the stars already—they just had to wait for the planets to align again, for the universe to be ready to give the push these two lovesick beings needed.