Title: The Hike
Fandom: The X-Files
Characters: John Doggett/Monica Reyes
Prompt: #28 – "through long December nights, we talk in words of rain or snow; while you, though chattering teeth, reply and curse us as you go" from "Jack Frost and the Hooded Crow" by Jethro Tull
Word Count: 1,358
Rating: PG-13
Summary: You musta really wanted to go hiking.
Author's Notes: A cute, slightly fluffy fic. Not much angst (for once).

"This was some great idea, Monica," John complained, lifting his leg over a huge fallen log, then turning back to help Monica over. He mimicked her words. " 'Let's go out hiking. It'll be fun.'" He paused in his trudging and turned to her. "I ain't havin' any fun."

Monica rolled her eyes at him. "I didn't realize the weather was going to be so bad. If I would've known about the snow, I would've postponed the trip."

"Didn't you even think about checking the weather forecast?"

"I did check the forecast. You know how unreliable those things are. I didn't think anything of it."

"And just what did the forecast say?"

She grimaced. "Six to twelve inches of snow."

John threw up his hands and started walking again. "You musta really wanted to go hiking."

She clumsily clumped through the snow in an attempt to catch up to him. "I did. We never get to spend any time together outside work, and I thought this would be nice."

He stopped and faced her. "So why didn't you just call me and say, 'Hey, John, look's like hiking's out. Let's go catch a movie instead.'?"

Monica laughed, looking at the ground, then back up at him. "I guess I thought you'd back out of it, think I was pushing you into something."

"Well, are you?"

Monica stopped breathing for a moment, her mind blank. "I guess I," she started, then cleared her throat and started again, "I guess I never thought about it that way."

John nodded slowly, realizing the situation he had just put them in. "I, uh, I didn't mean to suggest..."

"No," Monica interrupted him, "of course not. I know that. My words, not yours."

John continued to simply look at her, knowing this had turned into an incredibly awkward, uncomfortable situation, unsure of what to say next. Finally, he raised an eyebrow, drew his mouth up in a smirk, and shook his head, turning and trudging through the snow again.

Monica stared at his back, narrowing her eyebrows, before rushing to catch up. When she was only a few steps behind him, she opened her mouth to speak, but John beat her to it.

"You really have no idea what I'm thinking, do you?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

She looked confused. "What? No, I guess I don't...What..."

"You're always so worried about me thinking the wrong thing," he interrupted, stopping abruptly and swiveling to face her, so quickly that Monica didn't see it coming and bumped into his chest. She looked up at him, an expression of slight anxiety on her face. A large snowflake drifted down and landed on her nose, and John reached up and gently brushed it away. "Just relax," he said quietly, then turned again and started walking.

Monica stood paralyzed for a moment, thrown off by the brief contact and John's words, then collected her thoughts and followed John.

"Where are we going?" she called out as she gained on him.

"You're the one who wanted to come out here, you tell me," John called back.

Monica huffed. He was right. She was the one who had planned this whole thing, and yet, she was letting him take charge. As always. She could imagine him smiling at her nervousness and scowled. She didn't know how he did it, but he always managed to get to her.

"Yo, Monica," John said, breaking her train of thought. She looked at him and saw him trying not to smirk. "Gonna tell me where we're going?"

She smiled, covering her annoyance. "Gladly." She stomped up to him and continued on past, not even glancing at him,

John raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and followed after her. "So where..."

"Shh," she suddenly ordered him, slowing to a stop.

He crept up beside her, concerned. When he reached her side, he leaned in and whispered, "Why are we bein' quiet?"

Monica turned to face him, all seriousness. "There's something out there."

"What?" he asked. She had certainly gotten his attention now.

"I don't know," Monica admitted, kneeling to the ground and feeling the snow around her.

John joined her in crouching. "So what are we gonna do?"

"Well," Monica said, facing him, "I am going to do this." She suddenly raised her hand and smashed a pile of snow on John's head.

He sat there in shock, mouth open, as Monica grinned. That would teach him a lesson. She turned to walk away, which she should have known was a bad idea, when she was pulled backwards and felt wetness and cold against her back.

She shrieked and did a jig to realease the snow from her coat. "You weasel!" she accused, a smile on her face. Try as she might, she couldn't be mad at him.

He shrugged. "'Twas the least I could do," he said, striding up to her. "After all, what else are you supposed to do when someone clobbers you over the head with a snowball?"

Monica's mouth fell open in disbelief. "I did not clobber you. You were asking for it, anyway."

They started walking again, and John couldn't help but ask, "How do you figure?"

She shot him a dubious look. "You just love getting me into tight positions."

John grinned, not responding to her comment, but waiting to see if she would realize the double meaning of her words.

"Shit!" she exclaimed, and he knew she had. "I didn't mean that. You," she stopped and poked a finger into his chest, "just make me all flustered."

"Is that so?" John asked, the smile on his face fading.

"Yeah, maybe it's the way you talk or how you look at me or maybe it's just your body," she replied, snaking a hand up his chest, while her other hand curled around to his back.

"God, Mon, I had no idea." He moved one of his own hands to her back and with the other, quickly reached in back of him and captured Monica's hand, causing her to shriek again and empty the small collection of snow she had gathered.

She narrowed her eyebrows at him. "You think you're smart, don't you? I'll show you what – Aahh!" She screamed as John pushed her down in the snow, covering her head in fluffy white powder. She sat up, shaking it from her hair, and glared at him. "I am going to get you."

"Stop talking and come get me, then." John grinned at her wickedly.

"That sounds like a challenge to me," Monica said, and lunged at him, managing to knock him over on his back. She remained straddling his hips, proud of herself, when she realized John wasn't trying to fight back. She looked down and saw him looking up at her with a serious look on his face. "I should probably..." She started to move off him as she talked, but he grabbed her wrist, halting her. She closed her eyes. "John..."

"No, come on," he said forcefully. "Look at me, Mon. This wasn't a mistake. None of this was. I know how you feel about me." She looked away from him, not sure of what he was going to say next. He pushed her chin back towards him. "Hey, don' worry. I feel the same way 'bout you. Don't you know that?"

Monica sighed, feeling the cold winter air fill her lungs. "I do, John. It's just... There's so much at risk here. I don't want anything to happen that's gonna split us up, you know? The Bureau finds out..."

"Hey, shh," John ordered quietly, sitting up a little and brushing some hair from her face. "I'm sure everyone thinks there's something goin' on already."

She giggled a little at that, and John grinned. "You're right," she said, nodding. "So..."

She was cut off by John kissing her gently. When they pulled away from each other, John asked, "Is that what you were gonna ask?"

Monica smiled and shook her head, pushing herself to her feet and holding out her hand for John to take. "Come on. We've got a hike to finish."