A/N: Have I mentioned recently that I love writing drunk characters?

It was a stormy, unwelcome night outside Fox Mulder's window. The dark-haired agent sat at his desk, watching the wind whip about from the safety of his apartment. He couldn't see the stars outside, which always made him feel crushingly alone in the universe. However, he had found an old bottle of whiskey in the dustiest corner of his kitchen, which was currently keeping him company. Mulder had downed three quarters of the bottle by the time a genius thought popped into his head; he should call Scully.

Of course he should. Why not? Scully probably wanted to talk to him too. He fumbled out his partner's number and picked up the phone. After a few rings, Mulder heard Scully's voice on the other end. "Hello, this is Special Agent Dana Scully, I-"

"Scully!"

"-am not available to take your call right now. Leave a message, and I'll be back to you as soon as I can. Thank you."

Beep.

It took drunk Mulder a few moments to realize that Scully was not actually on the other line. "What's with th… the answering machine?" he began finally. "God, Scully, I didn't want to talk to a machine… I wanted to talk to you." He laughed. "You. Scully. Dana… I like that name. Daaana. D'you like my name? Fox? Scully, I'm named after an animal." Mulder paused to take another swig of whiskey before continuing. "If anybody should be named Fox, it's you, Scully. You have red hair, just like a fox. It's so pretty. Mm…" Another sip. "Y'know, Scully, I'm so glad we're partners. In the FBI, I mean. F… B… Scully, I don't remember what that stands for!" He broke out into a fit of laughter. "I'm a bit drink right now. I mean, I've had a couple of drunks. Drinks. Did you notice?" Just then, something outside caught his eye. Balancing the phone between his shoulder and his ear, Mulder leaned toward the window. Everything was a little blurry, but somewhere on the street below, he could see lights flashing. A car? A streetlight? Or… maybe something a little more extraterrestrial? Frowning, he opened the window and stuck his head out. "Hey! Aliens! Scully, I think there's aliens outside. D'you think they're here to see me?" He grinned, and downed the rest of the whiskey. "Damn, that's the end of the bottle. Anyway, aliens. You should come over and see. Um, if you get this message, call me back, okay? I'll see you tomorrow. Hope I'm not too hungover."

With that, he hung up. Feeling like he had accomplished something, Mulder dropped the phone onto his desk and collapsed onto his couch for the night.

"Mulder, you look absolutely terrible," remarked Scully as her partner stumbled into work that morning. He was wearing sunglasses, but shielded his eyes with one trembling hand anyways. He's either very sick or very hungover, Scully thought. Either way, she was concerned.

"There's no need to be so rude, Scully," joked Mulder, but his voice was weak.

She ignored this comment, and asked instead, "Do you have a fever?"

"No, no. Had a few drinks last night," he mumbled.

"A few?" repeated Scully incredulously.

"Just one, actually," said Mulder. "The whole bottle." He paused to put away his sunglasses. "Scully, uh… have you checked your answering machine this morning, by any chance?"

The question took her by surprise. "Er… at my work or home number?"

"I don't know. Both?"

"Well, there were no messages for me at home, but I haven't checked my work number yet," Scully told him. "Why?"

A flutter of momentary relief flashed across Mulder's face. "All right. Good. Don't check it, okay, Scully? I… may have called you last night while I was drunk," he admitted, running a hand through his unkempt hair. "Please don't listen to it. Promise me you won't."

"Well, I won't if you don't want me to, Mulder, but…" Scully trailed off, frowning. "You didn't say anything confidential, did you? Our work calls are still being bugged after you were under suspicion for what happened to your father."

Mulder's eyes widened. "Still?" he gasped.

"Yes, it should be done by the end of this month. Why? What did you say?" asked Scully. She began to make a mental list of all the damning secrets he could have spilled, and what she would have to do next to neutralize it. Oh, Mulder…

Her partner rubbed his eyes, grimacing. "It was nothing like that, Scully. From what I remember… it had nothing to do with the X-Files, the government, or anything. But it was… embarrassing."

Scully raised an eyebrow. "Embarrassing?" she repeated dubiously. "What did you say, Mulder?"

"Doesn't matter," mumbled Mulder. "Who received the message?"

Scully opened her mouth to answer him, but before she could say anything, a receptionist's voice played over the intercom. "Special Agent Mulder, Assistant Director Skinner would like to speak with you. I repeat; Special Agent Mulder, the Assistant Director would like to speak with you."

Mulder put his head in his hands.

Scully went with her partner up to Skinner's office. The entire time they were walking there, Mulder had the look of a prisoner about to sit down on the electric chair. "Was it really that bad?" Scully asked him. He only shook his head, wincing.

As soon as they entered Skinner's office, their boss looked Mulder up and down and remarked, "Yep, looks about right."

"Sir…" began Mulder, but clearly, words were escaping him. What could he have said that he is so embarrassed about? Scully wondered.

"I've had to call you into this office many times over the years, Agent Mulder," Skinner said. "I think this is the first time you aren't in any trouble, though. At least…" His eyes travelled over to Scully, who was hanging back by the door. "...not with me, that is."

"What do you mean by that, sir?" Scully asked, her stomach inching toward her heels.

Mulder glanced briefly at her before turning back to Skinner. "So I take it you listened to the message?" he sighed.

Skinner nodded. "It was…" To Scully's amazement, he grinned. "Agent Mulder, it was really quite entertaining. How much did you drink last night?"

"Whole bottle of whiskey," mumbled Mulder, rubbing his forehead. "Listen, ah, sir… Would you delete that message?" He paused for a moment before adding plaintively, "Please?"

"I'll leave that up to the recipient of the message," Skinner replied, turning to Scully. "Agent Scully? Or… should I say… Agent Scuuuuullaayyy?"

Scully could only guess that Skinner was imitating drunk Mulder's voice, because her partner turned bright red. "Sir… please," Mulder whined.

"He talked about me?" asked Scully, her mouth beginning to feel dry.

"Almost exclusively," Skinner told her, amused. "You, your hair, your name… how much he was glad you two were partners. There was a bit about aliens too, but that's to be expected."

Heat rose in Scully's cheeks. She looked pointedly away from Mulder, heart pounding. Did he really say all that? she thought.

"Scully…" began Mulder.

Scuuuuullaayyy…

"Play the message," Scully said, looking back up.

Mulder's jaw dropped, his eyes filling with horror. Skinner chuckled, heading over to his desk. Scully folded her arms and glanced over at Mulder, who gave her a pleading look. She raised an eyebrow in response.

Skinner pressed a button on his computer keyboard. "You have one new message and four old messages," it said in a robotic voice.

"Are you ready?" asked Skinner.

"No," said Mulder miserably at the same time as Scully said, "Yes."

Skinner pressed another button. "Message left at two-twenty-three A.M.," the machine stated. It beeped, and then there was a long pause before Mulder's voice began to emanate from the computer.

"What's with th… the answering machine?" Mulder's message began. Scully couldn't hold in a loud yelp of laughter; her partner was slurring wildly. She looked over at him; he had his head in his hands again.

The message continued. "God, Scully, I didn't want to talk to a machine… I wanted to talk to you. You. Scully. Dana… I like that name. Daaana." Scully blushed, looking away from Mulder, who was also getting redder by the second. "D'you like my name? Fox? Scully, I'm named after an animal. If anybody should be named Fox, it's you, Scully. You have red hair, just like a fox. It's so pretty. Mm…" Mulder paused on the recording, which gave Scully a moment to realize how fast her heart was beating. Mulder thought she had pretty hair. Sure, he had been drunk, and probably hadn't been aware of what he was saying, but… didn't that make his confession even more genuine?

"Sir, with all due respect, can we please stop this?" interjected hungover Mulder from across the room.

Skinner shook his head, and put a finger to his lips, just in time for Mulder's recording to continue. "Y'know, Scully, I'm so glad we're partners. In the FBI, I mean. F… B… Scully, I don't remember what that stands for!" Drunk Mulder started laughing; hungover Mulder only groaned. "I'm a bit drink right now. I mean, I've had a couple of drunks. Drinks. Did you notice?"

"Hard not to," muttered Scully, daring to look up at her partner again. He tried to glare at her, but he looked too ashamed for it to have any effect.

There was another long pause in the recording, save for the sounds of Mulder moving something and grunting with exertion. Then he called out all of a sudden, "Hey! Aliens! Scully, I think there's aliens outside. D'you think they're here to see me? Damn, that's the end of the bottle. Anyway, aliens. You should come over and see. Um, if you get this message, call me back, okay? I'll see you tomorrow. Hope I'm not too hungover."

With that, the machine beeped and the message ended. Despite her embarrassment, Scully couldn't help but laugh again. "…Well, that was… really something," she remarked. "You, ah… you sure said my name a lot."

Mulder's face was bright red. He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Listen… Scully… I was really drunk when I left that message."

"No kidding."

"I'm sorry," he added quietly.

Scully looked up at him. After a few seconds, he looked down at her. She smiled. "It's okay, Mulder. I'm not mad, if that's what you think. In fact…" She turned to Skinner. "Sir, will you save the message?"

Skinner nodded. Mulder looked dismayed. "What?" he asked. "Scully, you really want to keep that message?"

"Of course," replied Scully. "Whenever work gets tough and I need a little pick-me-up, I can just turn on my machine and have you tell me how pretty my hair is." She imitated drunk Mulder's slurring tone. Skinner laughed.

"Well, I'm glad someone's happy," Mulder grumbled.

"Plus," continued Scully. "If you ever treat me badly, I have something to blackmail you with." She was joking, of course; Mulder would never mistreat her. She just thought Mulder's drunken message was better than all of the Christmas and birthday presents she'd ever received. Hearing him call her hair pretty wasn't a bad touch, either.

A grin broke out across Mulder's face. "Guess I better watch my step," he said.

She laughed softly. "Guess so."

Mulder held her gaze for a moment before turning to Skinner. "Will that be all, sir?" he asked.

"Yes, that's all," said Skinner. "Agent Scully, I've saved the message for you. And both of you… I'm sorry we're still bugging your phones, although I suppose I never would have heard Agent Mulder's message if we hadn't been. It should be done by the end of the month, though."

"All right. Thank you, sir," Scully responded. She glanced up at Mulder. "Come on, let's go back downstairs. You look like you could use a coffee."

Her partner chuckled. "You have no idea."

They left Skinner's office together. "Oh, and Mulder?" Scully said as they headed back toward their basement office.

"Yeah?"

"For what it's worth, I sometimes forget what FBI stands for, too," she joked, smirking.

Mulder jutted out his bottom lip, looking exasperated. Scully laughed. "Come on," she added, placing a hand on his back. "Let's go get you that coffee."

end