Title: Significant Other (1/1)
Author: RocketMan >lebontrager@iname.com<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is
intended.

SPOILER:: Post-ep. . .for this one that followed En Ami. I don't know the
title....maybe someone could help me?

=-=-=-=
Significant Other
=-=-=-=

"Hey, you finished with your marathon bath?"

She chuckled warmly over the phone line and slipped further into the tub,
the water lapping over her shoulders and the bubbles already nearly
fizzled out.

"Almost."

"Well, you think you could postpone your beauty sleep?"

She sighed and closed her eyes.

"What's wrong now, Mulder?"

Scully was whining. She wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, but he knew
it and she knew it--she didn't care though.

"Nothing wrong, just. . .can you?"

"Mulder, I'm really tired. . ."

"I'll have you back by ten, at the latest."

She smiled to herself.

"Ten? What are we planning on doing?"

"You'll see. So, can you be done with your bath by seven?"

"What time is it now?"

"Six. . .thirty. Six thirty. Is seven too soon?"

Scully rolled her head to the side, searching for some kind of answer. Her
muscles were pleasantly relaxed, her body soft and warm from the bath. She
didn't want to go anywhere. 

"Hey, Scully?"

"This isn't a case, is it Mulder?"

"No," he said softly, as if to say, 'I wouldn't do that to you.'

"All right. Seven."

"And wear a nice dress."

"How nice?" she said, wincing.

"Um. . .like for church?"

"Mulder, what--"

"I'm not telling. Just wear a dress for me, Scully."

<for me?>

She licked her top lip with hesitance, then pulled the plug out with her
toes. The water sucked in quickly, down and down, and she was soon
chilled.

"A dress. You'd better be on time," she warned.

"I'll be there five till," he promised.

=-=-=

For him. Wear a dress for him. Should she take that as--?

Scully sighed and put back the lipstick, choosing the soft gloss that she
always wore, picking out the shoes that were low-heeled, and refusing to
give in to curling her hair.

She would not be different for him tonight. 

For him. Wear a dress for him. . .

She would not be different. That would be a lie. That would be
misrepresenting herself to him, like she was wanting this to be an
occasion for her to dress up for him.

She didn't. She didn't even know what she wanted this to be. Except for a
relaxing night of nothing but sleep and bubble baths.

Scully chewed on her lower lip before shrugging on the beige sweater that
matched her beige and green dress. It was cool out, with the wind and
storms that came with spring. Her fingertips made soft outlines on the
cold glass of the window. She could see his car park across the street.

She backed away before he could glance up and see her, then went to grab
her purse. She could see him in her mind, walking down the hall to the
elevator, pressing the button for her floor, glancing upwards with that
shaky mistrust as the lift started with a groan. 

She decided against the purse. A purse was not her anymore. She didn't
need it. She hoped she wouldn't need it, FBI badge, gun, all of it. She
didn't want a role tonight, but she also didn't want a new thing either.

The tap of his finger against the door and then his knock let her know he
was there. She waited for a brief, panicked second, then strode over and
opened up her apartment, herself, to him.

"Hey, you sure do clean up good, Agent Scully."

His smile prompted her eye-rolling and he slid inside, dressed sharp in a
charcoal grey shirt, Armani probably, and some pin-striped dark pants. He
looked good. He always looked good, even in white Oxford dress shirts and
blue Dockers.

His cuffs were rolled to about mid-forearm, his hair looked styled almost.
She wondered if he'd been agonizing over dress just as she'd been.

"Where are we going, Mulder?"

"I thought you might want to get away from the seedy underbelly of society
for awhile."

It didn't really answer her question, but it did put her fears to rest--no
casefile, no prostitutes, no vans with Jesus Is Lord written in white
spray paint. She let him take her hand and usher her out the door.

He locked it behind him and they were walking quietly down the hall, to
the elevator, his hand at her back. She felt strangely good in her dress
and shoes and mascara, with just Mulder's presence rather than his FBI
officiality that seemed to accompany everything lately.

When they got to his car, he opened her door for her, causing a raised
eyebrow and a look. It was almost habit now, but she appreciated his
gesture and wished she hadn't looked at him in askance.

He liked leaving her in the dark. She liked working out the puzzle with
the small pieces he gave her, usually. There were times though. . .

Tonight wasn't one of them. She wanted to sit in the dark of his car and
not know, she wanted to feel the warmth of trusting him and the knowledge
of her own ignorance for just a while longer. 

The streets they passed grew into the countryside, and then they took the
expressway back to Alexandria, away from her apartment. It took little
time, and soon they were downtown, quickly caught by pedestrians and
traffic.

He parked in a lot that charged eight dollars for three hours and herded
her away from the gritty, smoke-filled night air of the city. She could
hear the crunch of her shoes against the sidewalk, smell the pollution and
cement and body odor of the city, see the myriad people walking talking
turning laughing. She liked feeling anonymous among them, yet identified
by Mulder.

He led her to an open air cafe, but they sat inside, away from the street,
caught in the ambiance of soft music and well dressed couples and Italian  
food. It was expensive but he promised he was paying, no joke.

She ordered spaghetti because it had always been her favorite, since she
was six, and he ordered veal parmesan. The meals came with minstrone soup
as an appetizer, then a Caesar salad, and finally the entree. They had
homemade ice cream for desert. It tasted like mint and chocolate.

The silence between them was broken only by Mulder's half-jokes and her
comments on the stakeout, but they left most of work alone. She was happy
to be in the safe embrace of food and atmosphere and Mulder without the
work. Without the work.

Without the work.

She liked that the best.

"Do you think of yourself as my significant other?"

His question made her choke on her iced tea and she looked up at him with
round, questioning eyes.

"Where did that come from?"

"Someone asked me. . .asked me if I had a significant other."

"Well, in the largely defined sense of the word, I guess not."

"That's what I said. . ."

She sipped at her tea to hide her frown.

"But. . .but in a smaller defined sense of it. . .?"

"Smaller defined?" she asked, smiling at him.

"How would you define it?" he said back.

"As. . .as probably one of the most energy consuming, and yet complete
relationships of my life."

He tilted his head and sat back in the chair; she could feel his feet
shuffle under the table and his shoe brushed hers.

"Complete?"

Trust Mulder to ignore 'energy consuming' and focus on complete.

"Yes."

"In what way do you mean complete?"

She raised her eyebrow. "In what way do you mean significant other?"

His lips twitched in a smile. Complete. Yes, he could say that.

"I suppose that when I think of myself, I also naturally think of you," 
he replied.

She nodded. "Same here."

"Complete."

"Significant other," she said back.

"Enjoy dinner?" he asked suddenly.

She had long ago stopped being thrown by his sudden changes of subject.
Perhaps three days, three weeks down the line, he would suddenly say
something about their conversation, about being complete, and she would
pick it up again.

"Yes, very much so."

<Not just the food.>

"Good. You deserve something good after being left to do surveillance on
your own."

"I did good on my own," she said, arching an eyebrow.

"You sure did. But I'm sure you missed me terribly," he said, pursing his
lips at her in a mock kiss.

She smiled barely. "Of course. Terribly."

He grinned in sudden delight, unused to her continueing the joke.

"Significant other," he said, whispering and waggling his eyebrow.

"Exactly."

"Do you mean to say you're not complete without me?" he asked.

She didn't answer for a moment. She could see that he was joking, but that
he was also somehow, in some way, very serious.

"Yes."

She stood up and brushed her lips along his cheek.

"I'll wait for you up front," she whispered.

Mulder glanced up in bewilderment, but saw the waitress coming by with the
check and Scully was already disappearing into the women's restroom.

He paid quickly and waited for her to come out. He wondered if she were
hiding, but he didn't think she'd be the type of person to hide.

When she rejoined him, her hand was slightly cold from being washed but
he took it anyway, smiling and moving outside again. They began walking
for the car, listening to their heartbeats thud thud with some kind of
feeling, maybe anticipation.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Oh, uh, eight thirty."

"So, you've got an hour and a half left, Mulder. What else are we going to
do?"

Her smile made him stop in the middle of the sidewalk to pull her to him,
close and small and smelling good.

He kissed her with just a bare brush of his lips.

"I can think of something," he said.

=-=-=-=

end
adios
RM