CHAPTER TWO

"No cases. nothing but paperwork . . . why did I ever become an FBI agent . . ." It was Monday morning. . . .And Mulder was complaining.

Today, however, I didn't seem to mind his griping as much. Usually I gritted my teeth and smiled until - finally - doing the paperwork myself and sending him to get coffee. But today . . .

"Want to get some coffee at lunch, Mulder?"

"Coffee?" There was that wry smile I realized I loved. "You sure you're not overdoing it, Scully?"

I raised an eyebrow and kept my silence.

"You never eat anything!" he elaborated. "How about we get dinner? I can make sure you actually feed yourself."

I paused. Go to dinner with a co-worker? It was a self-enforced taboo. But just this once. Besides, Mulder was a friend too. Wasn't he?

I nodded slowly. "Sure Mulder. But I'm not going to let you take the bill."

He grinned. "We'll talk money later, Scully. You keep plugging away at that paperwork. how about I go get us some coffee?"

Exasperated, but not about to let it show, I bowed my head over the papers on my desk. "Two creams, no sugar. Thanks, Mulder."

As he left the office, I allowed my thoughts to drift. Dinner with Mulder would be harmless. Maybe it would even be fun!

'.Keep it professional, Dana,' I told myself. 'This is nothing more than a friendly get-together.'

'He's worried about you!' another voice inevitably argued. 'Just calm down and have some fun,'

Fun? With Mulder? Maybe less possible than it appeared.

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