The following Friday night Mulder courageously offered to cook for Scully. When he asked invited her earlier that week, she had cocked an eyebrow and asked, "You cook?"

The truth. No. But there was no way he was going to say that. Instead, he waved off her doubts and told her to come over around seven. Go knows he didn't plan it any farther than that.

So there he stood, in his mother's kitchen with two hours until she arrived. Feeling defeated, he reluctantly dug through the kitchen cabinets. Nothing. But his mother didn't cook so he was anything but surprised. He briefly debated ordering Chinese food and dumping it on a plate. He figured that the easiest food he could make was chicken. It never seemed to complicated.

When he walked into the locally-owned grocer, Mulder felt more overwhelmed then he ever remembered feeling. He wandered over to the meat refrigerator, staring at the cellophane-and-Styrofoam wrapped chicken. A butcher offered assistance, which he gladly took.

"I'm making dinner for my girlfriend but…" Mulder trailed off, feeling embarrassed.

"You don't know how to cook," the skinny man, who resembled nothing of a stocky, moustached butcher, offered, laughing to himself. "Do you have any ideas?"

Mulder mumbled his idea that had seemed so sound before he had seen the meat section.

"Good, good. Chicken is good to start with. Baked chicken. We'll get you some thighs—they aren't as likely to dry out as breasts—and do you have flour? No? Pick up some before you leave. Fill a baggie with flour and put the thigh in the bag and shake until it's coated. The wetness of the thighs will let the flour stick. Back the thighs at 350 for forty-five minutes. The fat from the meat and the flour will give the illusion that it's fried, but not overly greasy. Pick up a can of peas and a box of instant mashed potatoes. Just follow the directions on the box. You should be set."

Mulder smiled gratefully, though not completely assured, and took the meat the man handed him before thanking him. Hesitantly, he headed off for the rest of his ingredients.

Dinner had been a relative success. The chicken was a little over done and the potatoes were a little runny, but his attempts were completely appreciated. Scully gushed over the meal and went back for seconds.

"Where are your parents tonight?" she asked absently as she helped him with the dishes.

"They already went up to Martha's Vineyard for the reunion. You're still coming tomorrow?"

She nodded. "I'm kind of nervous about meeting your family at such a big event. I feel awkward that I never met your parents before this."

Mulder frowned, "I know I should have introduced you to them. It's not that I'm embarrassed by you or that I don't want them to know. It's just," Mulder hesitated, gesturing as he tried to explain himself. "They aren't easy people to like, and it tends to get messy."

She nodded; she really did understand. After all, it wasn't long after they were dating that she saw the father-son dynamic that did not exist. She was not particularly keen on meeting them either, but she knew she had to at some point. "I never thought you were trying to hide me from them. But when a guy takes a girl to meet his family, it usually isn't his entire family. How many Mulders are there again?"

"Forty-seven. But we can worry about that tomorrow morning."

She agreed and they retreated to the living room, glasses in hand. After finding nothing remotely appealing on television, Mulder stood up and turned it off.

"Let's go upstairs, Scully." He held out his hand and guided her up the stairs. Scully thought that his nervousness earlier in the evening was from his cooking, but it had only heightened since they had finished the dishes. The hand that led her was sweaty.

When they had reached the attic, she turned to him, squinting inquisitively through the darkness, trying to discern his mood. His gaze never stayed on her. "What's the matter?"

He smiled and shook his head, "Nothing. Nothing."

She was not sure what was going on at this point. She was at a loss. She walked the length of the attic to the corner they usually inhabited. She felt Mulder follow a few steps behind. Moments too late, she stated "It's raining." She opened the window and inhaled deeply. What she was searching for downstairs found its way to her upstairs.

"I just love the way the rain smells," she told him, the moonlight making her eyes shine brightly against the dark room. "It smells different everywhere. In San Diego it was bitter salty, but it's sweeter here."

She shrugged, "I must sound silly."

He shook his head, "Never."

She laughed, "Now I know you're lying."

Gingerly, she sat down on the mattress. At her beckoning, he sat down beside her, his lanky legs spread to accommodate his height. "Are you worried about tomorrow?" she asked, her head resting on his shoulder. She felt him hum as he considered the question.

"No. Not really."

She scooted away from him, her back at the head of the bed, leaning against the unfinished wall, so she could see him. "Really?"

"Well, I want you to meet my grandmother—she's the most important to me—and she already loves you. And there will be so many people that you probably won't get a chance to talk to all of them. But a little. Not more than usual." He crawled awkwardly to her, grinning like an idiot at his own goofiness. When he was eye-to-eye with her, he leaned back slightly. "I just want you to have fun."

She tilted her head to the side, opening her mouth to assure him. Instead, she kissed him. As the kiss escalated, she was surprised at how much passion Mulder was putting into it. His hand placed firmly on her neck pulled and pushed her closer to him, changing the angle and the depth of the kiss. She felt her heart beat faster as he pulled her under him. She felt her arms tense as she felt his erection on her left thigh. When his mouth moved its attention to her collar bone, she felt a reprieve. As his breath came in pants and he actually groaned as he pressed harder into her leg, she panicked. "Mm—Mulder," she stuttered out, so quietly she had hardly heard herself.

It was like flicking a switch.

Immediately, most of their body contact was gone as he lifted himself to his hands and elbows. With his mouth still on her neck, he purred a questioning, "Hmm?" against her throat.

She felt tears choke her as she forced the words out of her throat, "I don't...want…" She swallowed and sighed shakily before starting again. He had stilled all his moments even as he did not meet her eyes, instead staring at the hollow of her throat only three inches away. "I believe…not…before…"

He nodded, "Okay, okay," he whispered. He sat backward on his haunches, bringing her to a sitting position with him. Gently, he left kisses on her lips, trailing along her jaw line when she didn't respond.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Mulder stopped. His hands firmly gripped her shoulders as he fiercely stared into her eyes. "Don't."

She swallowed the tears that were threatening to spread down her face.

"Don't ever apologize for your beliefs. Ever," he hissed in what would have been a threat if the meaning of the words wasn't so considerate.

Nervously, she nodded, her face tinted blue by the moonlight streaming through the window.