An alternate universe in which Scully and Mulder meet while in college, needing to wash their clothes.

She watches him, wondering what he is doing, wondering what he thinks he is doing. He has his clothes in odd piles on the table, looking at them as though he has never done this before.

"You need some help?" she asks and he looks up at her.

"Umm…" He looks back at his clothes. "I'm not sure?"

"Never done laundry before?" she asks and he does not respond. "Seriously?"

"No, I… I have."

"Are you sure?" she teases, putting the quarters into the machine and pushing the tray in, closing the lid. Moving to the next washer, she adds more quarters, pushes in the tray, and closes the lid. "You don't usually have a butler wash your clothes?"

She knows him… well, of him. She has seen him around campus, always with a group of people, mostly women, all of them making doe eyes at him, but he does not seem to notice. He is more serious, studious, and withdrawn from them; all things she finds incredibly attractive, but she has never spoken to him before.

"A butler?" he asks, looking up at her and she sees how green his eyes are. She had thought they were more of a hazel, but they look very green at the moment. "No. No butler. He's more of a valet. But not mine."

"You… have a valet who drives you and washes your clothes?" she asks incredulously, crossing her arms and leaning against the washing machine.

"No, a valet. Emphasis on the et. He's like a personal assistant within the household." He smiles and her eyes widen, her thoughts racing as she imagines just how spoiled and rich he has to be to afford a man servant. "I'm completely messing with you."

"What?"

"I was joking. I don't have a valet. Driver or otherwise, especially as I think you're thinking of a chauffeur. Of which I also don't have." His smile widens and she lets out a breath and starts to laugh.

"Wow, you got me," she admits through her laughter. "It's not easy to do so, congratulations."

He tilts his head toward her and she laughs softly. Glancing back at his clothes, he looks at her again.

"I actually could use some help. I don't usually wash my own clothes. I go home every other weekend and I bring my laundry with me and my mother insists on doing it. Is that pathetic?"

"No, I think that's sweet," she tells him honestly. "But… you should also know how. Or… is this how you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Get the crowds of women around you? You pretend to not know how to wash clothes and they aww and ohh over you, wanting to be the one to help you. To change you." She makes a simpering face and then smiles at him.

"Crowds of women? I've not noticed that…"

"Maybe handfuls then," she says with a shrug and a half smile. He stares at her and she feels embarrassed, as though she may have hurt his feelings. "Sorry. I didn't mean anything by it… I'll leave you to it."

"No, I do."

"What?" she asks, confused by his words.

"I do need help and no, I don't use this as a pickup line. I really do go home, but this particular weekend I can't and I'm out of clean clothes."

"And you have a date tonight?"

"With Socioeconomics, yes I do."

She smiles and nods, stepping closer to give him a hand. Once he has his clothes sorted by color, she shows him how to use the machines and how much soap to add, telling him that fabric softener is a personal choice, and she prefers dryer sheets. As he stares at the machine's offerings, she is secretly pleased when he chooses the dryer sheets, tucking her hair behind her ears to cover her feelings.

"How long is a cycle?" he asks as he closes the lids on all three of his washers.

"Hmm, about 25-30 minutes to wash and then the dryer is in 15 minute increments, so it's dependent on how long you need."

"Smart," he says, turning to her with a smile.

"Fox, by the way. Fox Mulder." He sticks his hand out and she grips it with her own.

"Dana. Dana Scully."

"Pleasure to meet you, Dana. Could I buy you a slice of pizza as a thank you for your help today?"

"I wouldn't say no to that," she says with a grin and he gestures toward the door, walking beside her as they leave to go next door to Rita's Pizza.

His hand touches the small of her back as he opens the door. Gentle, not pushing and she finds that she likes it there, as though it has always belonged there.

That weekend became another two weeks later. She has not counted on seeing him and when he walks up, smiling as he begins to set down the small bottle of laundry soap, dryer sheets, and laundry basket piled high with dirty clothes, she feels her heart flutter, happy he is there.

They play chess, checkers, cards, read books, and study as they wait for their clothes to wash and tumble dry. Not in any of the same classes, their schedules completely different, it is the time they have to be together.

He reads her poetry that he is studying and the way he reads it, brings her to tears. He apologizes, jumping up to get her a paper towel to dry her eyes. When he hands it to her, he sits down and takes her hand in his, holding it until she laughs at her silly reaction.

When he lets go, she wishes he never would.

The first time he kisses her, they are folding their laundry. She is wearing cut off jean shorts, an old Rolling Stones t-shirt she stole from her brother, and her long hair is up in a messy bun. She had just made a joke, laughing as she added a pair of pants to her growing pile.

As she turns her head to look at him, she is surprised when his lips press to hers. Taken aback, she pulls away, placing a hand on his chest.

His eyes show a million emotions at once and as he starts to pull away, she grabs a hold of his sweatshirt and brings his mouth back to hers. His hands fall to her waist, his fingers digging into her back and she moans into his mouth.

Pulling away for air, she smiles, her eyes still closed.

"I've wanted to do that for weeks," he whispers and she opens her eyes to stare into his, stroking his cheek softly with the tips of her fingers.

"I'm glad you finally did," she whispers back, her thumb ghosting across his lips.

Their clothes are forgotten for a few minutes, the dryers falling silent.

Rain pours down one late afternoon. They are the only patrons, and she is sitting on the table, her arms around his neck as he stands between her legs. Her feet are running slowly up and down the backs of his legs as he tells her about a book he is reading.

She would have a hard time telling anyone else what it was about if they asked her, as her attention is on other things: the softness of his skin, the way he smells, the feel of his denim jeans on her bare feet, how he makes her stomach flutter every time he looks into her eyes, the plumpness of his bottom lip.

He is not aware of it yet, but tonight she is going to invite him to her dorm room. Her roommate is gone for the weekend and she plans on spending the night with him. Possibly the whole weekend.

She bought a box of condoms, her cheeks flushing as she stood in line to pay for them. Not from embarrassment, but excitement and knowing he was the right choice for her first time.

The man who made her insides quiver and her body ache.

They wash their clothes together the next time, kissing and touching as they wait for them to wash. He smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear, and shaking his head.

"What?" she whispers, her hands gripping the bottom of his dark grey shirt, the one she had put on that first morning after, as he slept soundly in her bed and she left quietly to use the bathroom.

It was her favorite shirt and he knew it.

"Nothing," he says and continues to smile.

"That's not a "nothing" smile," she laughs and he kisses her softly. Her lips, her cheeks, her eyelids, her temples, and then her lips again.

"I love you," he whispers against her lips, kissing her again and she inhales through her nose.

He repeats his trail of kisses as she takes deep breaths, her eyes closed and a soft smile on her face.

When he pulls back, his nose nuzzling hers, she opens her eyes and looks into his, the eyes that seem to see through to her soul.

"I love you too," she says softly and he smiles slowly, kissing her gently and wrapping his arms around her.

Her legs wrap around him, bringing him as close as possible as she sits on the table, her face buried in his neck, the scent of dryer sheets filling her nose, the softness of his shirt making her ache.

"It's not the same," she says, throwing her clothes in the washer and looking at him.

"No," he says, adding his own and smiling at her. "It's better."

"I don't know. There was something about going there, running from the rain, waiting for the clothes to wash, and being with you."

"But now, we still get to spend our time together, just waiting in different ways," he says, adding the soap and turning on the machine.

He takes off his shirt, the grey one that makes her heart race, and tosses it in, reaching for the button of his jeans next, his eyebrows going up.

She takes off her own shirt and the jean skirt she had been wearing and throws them both in, standing in front of him in her bra and panties, the blue ones that she knows he likes. He gives her body a look of approval before taking off his boxers and holding them in his hand, waiting for her.

She unhooks her bra and slides it off, tossing it into the washer. Her panties are next, slid down over her hips and thighs slowly, watching the reaction it is having on him as she does and she smiles.

The last pieces of clothing are thrown in and the lid is slammed down. He reaches for her hand and pulls her to him, kissing her deeply, his tongue adding a spark to an already blazing fire.

He kisses the corners of her mouth and raises his head, smiling at her.

"This is much better," he says softly and then pulls her toward the bedroom in their small apartment; dorm life and waiting for roommates to be away, not being good enough anymore.

He kisses her as they reach the bed, his fingers trailing down her back and causing her to shiver. The washing machine begins its cycle and he pulls back to smile at her.

"It's the most beautiful sound in the world," he says and she laughs. "And no quarters needed." She laughs again and kisses him, her hands now mapping out his body, his moans filling her mouth.

The washing machine continued its cycle, the crescendo of it rising as she fell over the edge for the first time. When it fell silent, the timer letting out a soft ding, he collapsed on top of her, both of them spent and breathing hard.

Her fingers ran through his hair, down his back and up again, his skin sticky with sweat.

"That was definitely better," she agrees, trying to catch her breath.

"Hmm," he hums and she smiles.

"And we still have two more loads to wash."

"Just… give me a little bit and we will do the next one," he breathes out, and she wraps her legs around him, loving the feel of him all around her.

"Take as long as you need. We have nowhere to be but here."