Beware of Dog
By She's a Star
It wouldn't stop staring at him.
"Scully?"
What was taking her so long to get ready, anyway? It wasn't like she was a seventeen year old getting ready for the prom. The last time he'd checked, a meeting with Skinner didn't require nine and a half hours of preliminary primping.
"Just a second, Mulder."
Okay then.
He chanced to look down again, and then immediately wished he hadn't. If anything was like a car wreck – hell, maybe even a Keanu Reeves movie -- it was this situation. He didn't want to be drowning in eye contact with it, but once you looked, it was damn near impossible to tear your gaze away. There was something in its eyes that almost seemed to suggest a challenge, and he wasn't about to lose.
"Any day now, Scully," he called, eyes never wavering.
He'd seen some spooky things – judging by popular consensus, he even kinda qualified as one – but nothing quite seemed to parallel this.
It was almost smug, the way it stared at him.
"Go ahead," he muttered darkly, feeling only a little bit mentally unhinged. "Make my day."
"Mulder?"
He sheepishly glanced over to meet Scully's gaze. The most skeptical of eyebrows was being raised his way.
"Yeah?" he asked, as innocently as possible.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Queequeg let out a meek sort of yelp before bounding away from Mulder's feet and off down the hall.
Chicken.
"I was just talking to the dog," he said, flailing for nonchalance as he stood up. "You know, 'nice doggie,' 'eat your Purina,' that type of thing."
"Oh, really?" she asked, eyebrows still working overtime. "Because I could've sworn you said—"
"Let's go, Scully," he cut in smoothly, placing one hand against her back as he guided her towards the door.
"Okay," she said, something in her tone making it all too clear that he wasn't off the hook yet. "But I'll be honest with you, Mulder. I'm not too comfortable with the idea of you harassing my dog—"
"Harassing your dog??" he cut in, incredulous. "If anything, your dog was harassing me! I was just. . ."
The all-too-blatant amusement that lit her features was enough to render him silent, and he realized that she'd blown his cover pretty effectively.
"You were just what?" she asked teasingly, closing the door behind them.
"Nothing," he mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Never mind."
"No, go ahead," she instructed with a light nudge; a particularly bright smile spread across her face as she threw in, "Make my day."
She was officially insufferable. And somewhat gorgeous when she smiled like that, but it didn't seem very wise to pursue that particular train of thought.
So instead he returned, appropriately woefully, "Oh, how I wish you were a cat person."