Chapter Ten

Scully's Apartment, Georgetown, Washington, D.C.

January 11th, 2001, 6:49 p.m.

A box of X-Files sat on top of the dining room table across from the two place settings and two unlit candles. "Fields of Gold" played gently on her stereo. But the commotion between Mulder and Scully in the kitchen was anything but romantic. "How's this, Scully?" He waived the French knife in the air, and she made her way over to the cutting board.

"Good job on the chives, Mulder. Now start on the mushrooms." Scully handed him the package, and he groaned.

"How much more stuff is there to chop up?"

"Not too much. You're lucky you didn't ask for spaghetti. We'd be here until my birthday."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'd like to start the steaks sometime soon, Mulder. The potatoes are just about ready to be skinned and mashed, too."

"You know, this wasn't part of the deal."

"Well, you didn't make your deal with me--you made it with Doggett, and then showed up at five o'clock with your frozen steaks. Not that I mind cooking for you, Mulder, but it'd be nice to know about it in the future."

"You're right. I guess now that I've left the FBI, I assume no one else's got anything to do, but it's just me."

"Getting bored?" he shrugged, which made her smile. "You'll be happy to know that there's something for you to do sitting on the table after we eat." Mulder looked up from his chore, saw the box, and grinned like an eight year old who'd just received his Red Ryder BB gun. "Which will hopefully be before Christ's second coming," she mumbled.

His grin faded as he realized that only half of the mushrooms were done. "How do you do it like those chefs do on TV? You know, the fast chopping...as if their hands were on fire?"

"Practice. I don't think I could do it nearly as fast as one of those Iron Chefs, but move over and gimme the knife." He handed the instrument over and stepped backwards to give her complete command of the cutting board. Within thirty seconds, the rest of the fungi were done and ready to be thrown into the skillet with the rest of the ingredients.

"Scully, I'm impressed and very afraid at the same time," Mulder whispered into her ear as she scooped up the mushrooms into a bowl. Her sharp intake of oxygen made him inch closer into her personal space. "I thought teaching you batting was good, but this...this, I kind of like even better."

"Mulder..."

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much. So, what else is in my cooking lesson today?" He was now directly behind her and sneaked his hands over hers to grab the bowl.

"Well, there's tasting..." Mulder took the bowl from her and pushed it away. Scully knew exactly what he had in mind, and he was not about to get it...just yet. She reached up to blindly stroke the fine hairs on his chin and then playfully shoved him backwards.

"What was that for?" She pointed to the boiling pot of potatoes on the stove. "Oh. Aye, aye, Admiral Scully."

Mulder moved to the range, turned the burner off, and emptied the pot of its contents into a colander in the sink. "Run some cold water over them, and don't burn your wittle hands," she patronized him.

"Here I thought it was my brain that you were solely after, Agent Scully."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. I'm a doctor. I'm into all the parts of the anatomy." He gulped as he obeyed her suggestions and began to peel the spuds. "So, I was speaking to Langly a few days ago...and by the way, you owe him, Mulder. He saved your ass from becoming grass."

"I'll let him beat me the next time I go over for D & D," he chuffed.

"Yeah, and from what I hear, that's been going on a lot. Anyhow, he said that there's this bet going on-"

"Ouch!" The former FBI agent dropped the scalding hot potato onto the floor and quickly bent over to pick it up.

"It's not working, Mulder--you have to be bleeding for it to be a complete distraction," Scully quipped. "What is this I hear about you and the Gunmen raising stakes up about the birth of my child?"

"Just...if it was going to be a boy or a girl, that's all. I said it was going to be a girl."

"Uh-huh. And what was the bet?"

"If I win, they pay for a weekend of spa treatments, a five star hotel for us, and tickets to the next Knicks vs. Nets' game."

"Us?"

"Yeah." He was being a bit presumptuous, but their relationship had grown even closer since he had been returned from his abduction. And now, they weren't technically working together anymore.

"Okay, let's hear the other half."

"Other half?"

"If they win," Scully pressed, crossed over to her refrigerator, and opened it. He slowly exhaled through his mouth, and she prepared herself for the worst.

"Frohike gets my entire porn collection."

"I see." As she turned around to hand him the milk, he had followed her and her shriek never faltered him from his task. Thankfully, he caught the container from falling, and put it onto the counter beside the refrigerator.

"Stop keeping me in suspense, Scully. I've got to know."

"Sorry, Mulder. I'm not going to go find out. But," she said with a 'cat that ate the canary' beam, "I have a feeling you just might lose your collection."

"And why does that make you happy?"

"I think it's time you stopped living the fantasy."

THE END