Title: The Game (1/1)
Author: RM >lebontrager@iname.com<
Disclaimer: The New York Knicks aren't mine, and really, I have no idea
whose they are. Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe
is intened.

~~~~
The Game
~~~~

"Oh. . .oh. . .NO!"

Scully jumped, hands flying to the sides of the motel room bed as the
earth began to shake.

Mulder's brown head settled into the curve behind her knee, and his
hands reached up to grab a pillow.

"Mulder?"

"My television just went out Scully," he pouted, but it was a distracted
attempt as he pressed the remote.

Her set flickered to life and a furious channel changing ensued as
Mulder found the station he wanted.

An explosion of fury followed that, and she jumped again, startled, her
eyes wide.

"Mulder."

"They scored *again.* It's Indiana . . . Come *on* . . ."

She glanced to the television and saw the bright ugly yellow jerseys of
the enemy, and then the white soothing uniforms of the Knicks.

Ah.

She should have known.

"They're on this late?"

A puzzled grin met her inquiry.

"Scully, it's only nine o'clock. This is *the* game. Come on."

She snorted. "It's all a game, Mulder. I think you've somehow missed
that."

His hand came to cover her mouth, and clamped down, mitigating her
surprise with indignation.

She opened her mouth to berate him and got a thumb instead.

He scowled and wiped her saliva off on her shirt. "Yuck, Scully. That's
so juvenile. Licking . . ."

She glared at him and was tempted to kick him out.

Except that this was *the* game, as he said, and he'd hate her forever
if she made him miss this.

And his head felt warm snuggled closely to her leg.

She twisted in the bed to see the game better, or rather, Mulder's
reaction to the basketball game, and his ear came flush with her thigh.

It was an odd feeling, strange and startling with how quickly it rushed
over her.

Tenderness.

She wanted to ruffle his hair and kiss his forehead and wrap her arms
around him, soothe him back to sleep.

He obviously didn't want soothing, she noticed, as his agitated fingers
played over his own Knicks shirt, a ratty T-shirt that had seen better
days.

His lips pursed, his body tensed, and she reached over, her hand seeking
his hair, giving in to that urge to feel the smooth texture of it.

He jumped and sat straight up, like a bolt of lightning flashing in the
sky.

"No. no no no no."

She blinked and snatched her hand back, then looked to the screen.

A crowd had gathered on the gym floor, a wash of yellows and whites and
suits, with a few cameramen and bystanders thrown in for good measure.

She tilted her head and felt the bed wiggle beside her.

"Come on, come on. Get up, get up."

She squinted a bit and wished the TV got better reception; the picture
kept jumping and fizzing.

"What happened?"

"Larry Johnson went down. He's their three-pointer."

Scully nodded, even though she didn't understand, nor did she care to,
really.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Mulder turned wild, wide eyes back to her. "It's not okay. It's
awful. They're already down a lot of guys, ten now . . . They don't need
this. The game could change at any moment."

"Who's winning?"

"Well, the Knicks. But . . . still . . ."

She shrugged and burrowed further into the sheets, watching the scene
play out onscreen, the two big tall guys hefting their team mate to the
sidelines, the doctor in his expensive suit looking obnoxious and
haughty.

"What happened to him, Scully? How long is he gonna be out?"

She cast a raised eyebrow in his direction.

"How should I know?"

Mulder's face came back to regard her, his full concentration coming to
bear against her.

Only when he needed her for something, that's when she felt it. Felt
that intensity being directed at her.

"You're a doctor. Can't you tell by looking?"

"From a thousand miles away? No."

He looked disappointed, but the resuming of the game caught his
attention once more.

She sighed and leaned back into the headboard, watching the lights
flicker across his face, her hand spread on the comforter as if she were
about to reach out and touch him.

Within minutes a commercial break interrupted his focus and he turned
back to her, a slight smile tainting his lips.

"Thanks for the television, Scully. I didn't mean to be so . . ."

She smiled. "Rude?"

He frowned. "I was thinking abrupt . . ."

"Trust me. Rude."

He lay there for a moment, finally recognizing her, seeing the softness
to her face, the hint of sleep in her eyes.

"I woke you," he said, surprised.

She nodded.

Mulder reached back and took her hand, tugging on it. "Oops."

She grinned and shook her head. "It's okay."

He wished that were true, but it wasn't. Waking your partner and friend
from a sleep she badly needed all because you wanted to see some stupid
basketball game that you were even taping at home *and* at the Gunmen's
wasn't okay.

But he let her think that.

Sitting up, he slowly pushed himself back, reaching to a comfortable
spot beside her, pulling her into a rough embrace.

"Thanks, Scully. I treat you awful sometimes . . ."

She pushed back, away from the mouthful of shirt she'd gotten, and
looked at him, her hands still at his chest.

"You don't mean it. I know."

The game switched back on again, and his eyes strayed to the screen, but
he refused to dismiss her again.

"Watch the game with me," he said softly.

She shrugged. "I'll probably fall asleep . . ."

"Oh. It shouldn't be that long," he said hopefully.

She smiled. "I'll watch."

He grinned and scooted back down to the end of the bed, flopping on his
stomach to get the best view.

She felt his hand wrap around her calf, her leg being hugged into his
body like a teddy bear, his chin coming to rest on her toes, and she
smiled.

She wriggled her toes under his chin, feeling the slight scratchiness of
his stubble, and heard him growl and poke her still.

She let him enjoy being a kid for awhile and sat back, closing her eyes.

There was always one thing in life that brought you back to being an
innocent, whether that was basketball games and batting practice, or
playing on the beach and flying a kite.

She was the beach and kite type, and Mulder was the sports fan.

It was soothing to know, a relief to recognize that Mulder could be
those things, that he could let go of childhood fears and adult burdens
for the light hearted play of real innocence.

She reached over and grabbed his foot, managing to tickle him with her
soft touch. His leg jerked, but settled back again, and she moved to her
side, careful not to kick his hands free of her calf.

She remembered the time her family had owned a cat. The little thing
would crawl into her bed every night, but always jump off once she fell
asleep because she was so restless. 

She used to lay perfectly still in the dark, wishing intently that the
cat would give her one more chance. It always had. And she had always
kicked him off once she was asleep.

It felt like that again, except this time, if she kicked, she had a
feeling Mulder wouldn't mind.

~~~~

It was much later than he thought, but the victory was well worth it.

Mulder whooped when they Knicks won, jerked in the bed and rose to look
at Scully, to share the joy.

She was fast asleep, her forehead smooth with deep slumber, her hands
curled lightly into fists.

Soft light from the television underscored the dark circles under her
eyes, and the lines of anxiety that had been in place all day.

He wouldn't wake her.

Smiling gently, he leaned down and kissed her forehead with a tenderness
that contrasted his excitement.

Looking at her, so peaceful and unafraid, he wanted to touch her.

Mulder laid down beside her, about three inches away, still able to feel
the last touches of her breath across his cheek, still very aware of the
heat of her.

He reached out for her hand, but stopped short, their fingers so close
he could practically feel the gentle smoothness of them.

He closed his eyes and slept as the end of the game celebration danced
along the television.
~~~~

end
adios
RM