A/N: In what I consider an early Christmas gift, I have a new chapter for Keeping Grounded. I consider it a Christmas gift because it comes fresh off the heels of the first chapter of my Christmas X-Files story, The Meaning of Christmas. If you're in the mood for something a little lighter than this piece, please go give it a gander!
And for the meantime, while I'll try to work on both stories, I might focus on The Meaning of Christmas a bit more over the next few weeks considering it's the holiday season. I have no intention of abandoning this story, so fear not! And if there is a bit more delay between chapters, I apologize whole-heartedly!
Finally, sharp readers might notice that I pepper my chapters with references to other X-Files episodes or pop culture elements. For the fun of it, I've included a list of references made in this chapter alone at the conclusion of the chapter. Whenever I reference anything pertaining to pop culture, I always ensure that it fits into the timeframe of The X-Files.
Gripping the Hollywood Video rental tape in one hand, Scully fingered through her keys with the other before slipping the appropriate one into the front door of apartment number five. The door swung to, and she stepped in with Mulder at her heels. He clutched a laden brown paper bag, no doubt carrying his alcohol of choice for their movie session. She had asked him what he bought on the drive home, but he was stubborn and determined to surprise her. That could either be a very good or a very bad thing.
Scully tossed the VHS onto her couch and slipped out of her coat. Mulder meandered to the dining table, set down his prized alcohol, and shrugged out of his jacket before handing it off to her.
"I can't say I have much available, but have any preferences for dinner?" she asked as she hung both coats in the closet and wandered back toward the kitchen. Mulder stood at the table tapping his fingers errantly at the top of the brown paper bag.
"Anything you have is better than what's in my fridge," he smiled cheekily. Scully smirked.
"You mean the two months old milk and a half eaten ham sandwich?"
"I don't see the point of stuffing a fridge full of food," he shrugged. "You and I are out of town about once a week anyway." She looked at him comically.
"You never want to come home and have an actual warm-cooked meal? Something as simple as pasta even?"
"If I want something warm, I make coffee. Otherwise water and sunflower seeds suit me just fine." He ceased his drumming for a moment. "I'm very low maintenance," he added off-handedly. She rolled her eyes.
"So you say, Mulder, but if I'm going to cook for you, you have to do some of the work." She slipped a medium-sized serrated knife from a nearby knife block. "Do you know how to use a knife?" She waved it at him.
"Scully," Mulder replied with a lackadaisical smile, "I'm entrusted with a government-issued side-arm on a daily basis. I think I should be qualified to handle a kitchen knife. Plus, I use this quite frequently." He pulled a Swedish army knife from his pocket, flipped it open to reveal the little utility knife, and waved it back at her in return.
"That does not require the same degree of precision and care as this," Scully pointed out.
"So says the woman with the medical degree who spends all live long day poking at corpses." He pocketed his Swedish army knife and plucked the kitchen knife from her hands, twirling it between his fingers. "You realize that knives were among the earliest tools created and used by primitive man. It's an implement that can be used for a myriad of purposes ranging from everyday needs like scavenging for food or cutting down wood for a shelter to digging holes by using the broadside of the knife like a makeshift spade. Not to mention its defensive capabilities in the event of an attack by an enemy or rampant wildlife." He gripped the knife by the handle, pointing the bladed end down in a typically aggressive stance. "How to use such a tool is practically written into our genetic make-up." He returned to twirling the knife in his hands.
"And yet we have the Darwin Awards," Scully intoned to herself, taking back the utensil and sliding it back in its slot on the knife block.
"What's that, Scully?" She turned to her partner, leaning back against her kitchen counter and bracing her position by spreading her arms out to grip the counter edges behind her.
"I just want to ensure there will be no mishaps resulting in cut off appendages and further hospital visits. I might be a medical doctor, but I can't spirit a digit back onto a hand."
"A needle and thread would do just as easily," Mulder offered teasingly.
"Still something I'd like to avoid," Scully nodded curtly. She turned and checked her fridge. "Alright, looks like I have some broccoli, tomatoes, lettuce. Got some chicken, ground beef." She turned back to her partner. "Any of that interesting you?"
"Honestly, I'm fine with whatever, Scully. I don't mean to empty your fridge for all of one meal, and so long as it's not tofu, I'll eat it." She arched an eyebrow at him.
"Lucky you. I'm fresh out of tofu." He smiled appreciatively. She turned about and crossed her arms. "How about tacos? There's the ground beef, tomatoes, lettuce. I think I have some cheese in there."
"Sounds muy bueno, Seniorita Scully," he drawled in his American accent, butchering the Spanish language for all it was worth. Scully wrinkled her nose. Who knew one of the most beautiful languages of the modern world could sound so bastardized? And only Mulder would find the glee in doing so.
He grinned impishly, like a little boy in a school yard who was purposefully antagonizing a teacher. Although to some extent, that was Mulder to a tee. While he was brilliant and confident and could be undeniably considerate and affectionate at times, he was an overgrown boy at heart, loving to tease people and trip them up for his own amusement. And it was one of the reasons why Scully loved seeing Mulder on almost a daily basis. Cases could be stressful or personal demons could encroach on daily life, but she could always count on Mulder to come up with a light-hearted quip to ease the tension and bring things back down to a manageable level.
Peers and other agents at the Bureau found Mulder's brand of humor tiring, but Scully always found it wickedly endearing. Ever since he felt the need to toy with Tom Colton by mentioning Reticulans and their love of human livers on the Tooms case. Colton had been baffled and was seriously questioning Mulder's sanity, but Scully saw through his ploy immediately. Poking and prodding skeptics and non-believers alike with over embellished theories on the existence of extraterrestrials solely for the purpose of pushing their buttons and agitating them—especially since he was well aware that they wouldn't even attempt to believe him had he presented them with his true theories, implausible as they were—was a favorite pastime of his.
And yet he never tried that little game with her. He had always talked to her straight, perhaps sensing—skeptic though she was—that she would actually listen to him and try to hear him out. As a whole, Mulder interacted with her on an entirely different plane than he did with anyone else—whether his late parents or peers. He was real and intimate with her—sometimes strikingly so. He didn't hold back; what she saw with Mulder was what she got—goofball humor and all. It was something Scully sometimes forgot to really appreciate about her partner, but she couldn't see herself going through life without it.
Their innate ability to understand one another with just a look or comfort one another with a simple touch. It was the sort of relationship that most partners—whether professional or otherwise—dreamed of, and it was as natural as breathing for the two of them. And the scary part was that achieving a relationship of that level took hardly any effort on either of their parts. It just was. And it came about so quickly—just within months of knowing one another.
Scully recalled the first real test of their relationship early in their assigned partnership—in a remote ice core research station in Alaska. Six strangers trapped in a claustrophobic, ice-ridden location with a millennia-old, parasitic life form while a snowstorm bared down on them. It was straight out of a horror movie, and paranoia was rampant. Even with the death of their pilot, depleting their total number to five, they tried to keep level-headed, but the fear was there. Who of them was infected if any even were? With the death of another of their party, though, that ticking time bomb of bone-chilling fear exploded into animalistic aggression.
She and Mulder found themselves looking down the barrel of each other's guns, and he was the first to relent and lower his firearm. Scully didn't think she would have found the courage to do so first; every instinct she possessed told her to keep her side-arm trained on him—that he could be infected. It was a highly tense situation and both were at the risk of being suddenly shot. Yet Mulder had the presence of mind to look her in the eyes, see the crazed paranoia-induced terror residing there, and seek to subdue it. Scully felt that was ultimately why Mulder lowered his gun; he hated the idea of her fearing him. Anyone else, sure, but not her: the only one who ever gave him a chance. Scully recalled him relaxing so suddenly, calming in just an instant; cooperating and trusting in her fully despite the risk. It was almost unnerving to see a man at the height of an adrenaline rush suddenly taper off and regain control. Maybe it was because of the ease in which he did it.
And later when they were both temporarily locked away in the storage closet when each of them were still intently wary of the other, he surprised her again. Despite whispering his desire to trust Scully, she was still on edge and unwilling to give him a possible advantage over her. She had never planned on turning her back to him. And so he did so first, fearlessly turning around and opening his shirt collar so she could check for signs of possible infection. When it came to Mulder's turn to check her, Scully hadn't been expecting it. She gasped as he grasped her by the shoulders and drew her back to him. But despite the initial tense contact, his touch was gentle, slowly dipping back her shirt color and brushing a few loose strands of hair away before placing his palm to the nape of her neck and feeling for any contusions. He repeated the action down her back some, applying minute amounts of pressure with each movement.
Despite the heightened, unusual circumstances, that had marked the first time they touched one another in a more intimate manner, groping necks and running fingers along upper backs—and all in search of an alien organism of all things.
Nonetheless, Scully believed that outing had cemented their relationship. To come so close to killing one another then unexpectedly finding the strength to trust one another instead; it was unheard of. It was so them. That excursion exemplified the totality of their relationship as it came to progress over their seven year partnership: heightened mistrust morphing into intense codependence and unshakeable conviction. A wholly intimate and intuitive sense of confidence with the power to penetrate any barrier that might come between them.
Even one so small as Scully's dining room table. Her bright blue eyes stared into his teasing green ones. As she looked at him, the color of his eyes softened, taking on a gray green. Almost a stormy green; they exuded the strength and passion she had come to rely on so heavily, but also intense serenity. His grin relaxed into a contented smile, his fingers moving to lightly drum against the table. A matching smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she skirted around the table and rest a hand on his arm, lightly tugging at it. Mulder conceded, ceasing his repetitive drumming and turned to her while sustaining the same contented smile. Maintaining her grip on his arm, she pulled him towards her and brushed his lips against his. She felt the muscle in his arm throb as sinews and joints tensed, but he didn't change his stance. After a few moments, she broke the kiss. He smiled amusedly, his eyes searching her face, trying to read her.
"What was that for?" he asked.
"Come on, Mulder," she urged lightly, tugging at his arm once more. "Put away the beer, grab us a couple of bottles, and let's get the movie started." She crossed over into the living room, glancing back to see his stunned, but pleased expression.
"You do always keep me guessing," she heard him mutter as he walked over to the fridge and busied himself there.
Scully plopped down on the couch and picked up the movie from the cushion next to her. Mulder wandered over with a bottle opener and the two requested bottles, setting one in front of her as he sat down. Scully examined the bottle.
"Good choice," she complimented, observing the Shiner Bock label on the bottle. "No wonder you were keeping it a surprise."
"What can I tell you, Scully?" Mulder replied with a smile as he righted the bottle opener. "I have taste." Scully wandered over to her VCR, offering him an appreciative look over her shoulder. "So what fine film did you rent for our viewing pleasure?" Mulder asked as he pried the bottle caps off the beer bottles. Scully popped open the movie case and slipped the VHS into the VCR. "I'm half expecting The Princess Bride or something." He took a drink from his bottle. Scully glanced over at him amusedly from her crouched position in front of the TV.
"Close," she replied, tossing the empty movie case to him. "Same actor." Mulder glanced at the movie rental insert.
"Robin Hood: Men in Tights," he read. Scully collapsed on the couch beside him, picked up her beer, and began to fiddle with the remote. "Just the thing to catch your interest, eh, Scully? Roguish heroes with hearts of gold dressed in tight-fitting clothing." Scully glanced at Mulder over her beer as she took a swig.
"Or I wanted to watch a comedy movie. I heard it's good, and I thought it might be up your alley. It's Mel Brooks. Blazing Saddles, Young Frankenstein."
"Right," Mulder nodded with a wry smile. "Ever the selfless Dana Scully."
"Shut up, Mulder," Scully rolled her eyes, punching the play button on the remote. The movie kicked in, beginning with its customary trailers and previews. She took another gulp of beer. "Hmm," she muttered as she swallowed. "Can you close the window blinds? There's a bit of glare on the screen." Mulder promptly stood up and turned to Scully.
"As you wish," he said with a small bow before crossing over to the windows.
"Should I be flattered that I'm Buttercup?" Scully asked curiously.
"Well, you could just be smitten with the mysterious yet alluring Dread Pirate Roberts." As he pulled the blinds closed, he glanced back at Scully and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"I'm surprised at you," she replied, ignoring his shameless attempt to flirt. "It's not of your...favored genre." Mulder shrugged and settled back down beside her.
"It was a couple years ago. I couldn't sleep, and it was late." He glanced at the TV as the movie previews rolled on. "I went out to a Blockbuster or a Hollywood Video or whatever it was, grabbed the first thing I saw on the shelf."
"And it was The Princess Bride?" Scully about laughed, taking a draft from her beer.
"I actually watched most of it," Mulder grinned. "Fell asleep as they were just about to enter the castle and try to rescue Buttercup."
"Wow!" Scully replied. "Mulder watching something that isn't sports-related or rated NC-17," she joked. He swatted her lightly on the arm.
"Hey, it had some athleticism!" he retorted. "It had André the Giant."
"I don't think André was actually climbing cliff sides and hurling boulders, though," countered Scully.
"He could have been! How are we to know? The guy was practically 7 feet tall and strong as an ox." Mulder flexed his own muscles as if to impress her. Scully shrugged with a chuckle.
"Believe what you want, Mulder. I'm just going to sit here and watch this movie."
"You mean ogle at poor Robin Hood," Mulder teased.
"Well, I give you permission to drool over Maid Marian or whichever sexy lady is sure to cross the screen." Mulder feigned hurt as the last of the previews was wrapping up.
"Really, Scully? You think me that lewd?" Scully turned to Mulder with an incredulous look.
"So says the man with the biggest triple-X collection I've ever known."
"That's different, Scully," he waved off her assertion. "That's a hobby. Something that numbs the mind."
"While it excites other parts?"
"A favorable side effect," he explained nonchalantly.
"And you don't degrade into a grunting Neanderthal when you see the women on those tapes?" Scully pressed.
"Buxom blondes aren't really my type." Scully quirked an eyebrow at him, but he smiled back smoothly.
"Uh-huh," Scully nodded distrustfully. She glanced at the TV; the opening credits were starting. Suddenly the tape stuttered to a stop, leaving pixelated bars over the footage as the image shivered. She turned to her partner who was eyeing her from across the couch, remote in hand with his thumb poised over the pause button.
"Come here, Scully," he said, reaching a hand over and beckoning her.
"What?" she said uncertainly, watching him warily.
"Come here," he repeated, an amused smile coming to his lips. While honestly considering openly refusing his request, Scully found herself shuffling over on the couch. Mulder lazily crossed his arms, seemingly studying her as she slid across the cushions, eventually stopping beside him. He leaned into her with a mischievous smile, turning his head so his lips hovered just beyond her ear.
"Have I ever told you how wildly attracted I am to red-heads?" he murmured, punching the play button on the remote and allowing the movie to resume.
References:
Hollywood Video/Blockbuster - two movie/game rental chains in the US existing from the '80s until 2010 and 2013, respectively.
The Darwin Awards - a type of fictional award that spawned a book series in 2000 concerning the stupidest ways people have accidentally killed themselves; it's a reference to Charles Darwin and his On the Origin of Species, specifically the theory of natural selection in that the weaker of a given species tend to die before the stronger members.
"You do always keep me guessing." - a reference to Mulder's statement that Scully always surprises him in Season 7 Episode 14's "Theef." Specifically, a form of the line is uttered three times in the episode: Mulder initially states, "You see that, Scully? You always keep me guessing." Later on Scully notes, "I'll always keep you guessing." And at the episode's end, Mulder says one last time to himself, "You do keep me guessing."
Shiner Bock beer - the beer drunk by Mulder and Scully on their "movie date" of Caddyshack in Season 7 Episode 21's "Je Souhaite."
The Princess Bride (1987) and Robin Hood: Men in Tights (1993) - two movies starring later X-Files guest star Cary Elwes (as Brad Follmer in Season 9). The Princess Bride is widely considered an American classic, and it is a fantasy romantic comedy of sorts with a quirky sense of humor and over-the-top love story.
"As you wish."/Buttercup/Dread Pirate Roberts - three references to The Princess Bride. Westley (Cary Elwes), a young farm boy, works for Buttercup (Robin Wright), a young country woman; whenever Buttercup asks anything of Westley, he always says "As you wish," before doing the task; many years later and after being engaged to the evil Prince Humberdinck, Buttercup is abducted by three outlaws, and a man dressed all in black, otherwise known as the Dread Pirate Roberts, daringly comes to her rescue.
André the Giant - a French professional wrestler for the World Wrestling Federation (WWF; now the WWE - World Wrestling Entertainment) from the '70s to the '90s; he had gigantism, causing him to reach a height of 7 ft. 4 in.; he was known for playing the giant, Fezzik, in The Princess Bride.