Girls' Night Out Scully has a girl's night out that does not end exactly as planned. Here's what happened. As I was leaving our basement office (or the Black Hole, the Pit of Despair, Where Logic Goes to Die, what else have I called it over the years?), Mulder said, "Hey, Scully, how about pizza and a movie at my place tonight? You can pick the movie." That's his idea of chivalry. "No, thanks, though. I've got plans." He had the nerve to look hurt, to put on that whipped-puppy look that he uses to get his way. It usually works. Not tonight. "Aw, Scully. . ." "You'll manage," I said. "I promise you'll be fine. See you Monday." "You can even choose the pizza," he said as I shut the office door. Too bad, babe. Not tonight. Just because I love him doesn't mean I want to spend every waking moment with him. I went to my apartment, and there was a message on my machine. "Dana? It's Karen. Still on for tonight? Call me!" I called her at once. Still on. At eight o'clock Karen's BMW pulled up, Anna and Jamie already in it. They hollered at me as I come running out, hooting because they couldn't see the hem of my skirt beneath my coat and my shoes were my one pair of stillettos. "Somebody's looking to get laid tonight!" Karen said, bringing another scream of laughter. Anna was getting married the next day, but it seemed like all their teasing was directed at me. Which was fine. I'm sure I deserved it. I'm sure that people have written dissertations about the phenemon of the bachelor party, the neccessity of the last fling before settling into domesticity. But I'm not going to. It was too much fun to analyze--I hadn't been clubbing since college, and it was good to dance, to drink a little too much, to laugh with my friends. To wear a tiny black dress and know that people watched me as I walked past. In the fourth club, Jamie nudged me. "Dana. Six-footer at the end of the bar." "What's he wearing?" "Dark suit and an uncomfortable expression. Okay, look now!" I turned quickly and then turned back. "The end of the bar," I said. "Yeah, dark hair, nasty tie. You know him?" "My partner followed us." "You're kidding. You work with *that*?" "The one and only Fox Mulder." Anna and Karen both turned to look. "Damn!" Anna said, drawing it out with approval. "No wonder!" "No wonder what?" "Just no wonder. Da-amn!" "He feels stood up," I said, standing up myself and wobbling a little. Don't drink margaritas while wearing stillettos. Lesson for the day. "I'll make him go away." "Or bring him over here," Jamie suggested. I stuck my tongue out at her and went to where Mulder was standing at the end of the bar. He knew he'd been seen. He didn't even pretend to be there by accident. He just gave me a slow, heavy-lidded smile and put down his drink, and turned away from the bar. Lame excuse on the way, and a half-sincere apology. Or that's what I thought, anyway. But he said, in that low, I'm-too-sexy-for-this-room voice, "Hey, you. Want to dance?" "What are you doing here?" I said. "Looking for a good time, just like you. What about that dance?" "One dance," I said, and let him lead me onto the dance floor. Why is it, that club DJs have the worst sense of timing, that what had been a thumping jam mixed into a slow number: that Depeche Mode song with the whale song and the heartbeat in the background, and the lyrics are sappy. Cliched. Wonderful. Mulder spun me slowly, then pulled me close, his hands on my waist. His head bent so that our foreheads met, temple to temple. And he sang, so softly his words were barely above a breath. "I want somebody to share, share the rest of my life Share my innermost thoughts, know my intimate details. . ." "Mulder," I said, trying to be stern. He brushed my lips with his thumb. "Just dance, Scully. Just dance." "Why did you follow me?" "I was worried." "Truth, Mulder." "I was jealous. I thought you had a date." "Why do you care?" I said, and my voice sounded shrill even to me. "Because I do." He spun me again, pulling me back to him expertly. "Because I do." He started singing again. "She will listen to me when I want to speak About the world we live in, and life in general, And though my views may be wrong, they may even be perverted, She will hear me out, and won't easily be converted. . ." "You've got that one right," I said. "Oh, love, I know. But you listen to me. Like the song says." He leaned back, and sang a little too loudly. "But at the end of it all, she will understand me, ooo. . ." "Stop it. Stop it right now." "Don't you like my voice?" "Yes, it's fine, but. . ." How do you tell a guy that he's too much--too handsome, too possessive, too solicitous? *Can* you? "Look, this is a bachelor party. I'm a bridesmaid tomorrow, for my friend Anna." I pointed to our table. My friends waved back, gave me the thumbs-up. No help there. "I'll go after this dance. I promise. I just wanted to be sure you were okay." "I thought you said you were jealous." "That too." "You're not making any sense, Mulder." "Well, you never wear these little outfits for *me*." I couldn't help it. I laughed, and got a grin in response. "I can just imagine the faces if I wore this to work." "Those comments about you being dowdy would end, that's for sure." "I am *not* dowdy." "Not as much as you used to be." He leaned his temple against mine again. He's so *tall*, I thought, and giggled. "Scully." "Hmm." "I do believe you're drunk." "Tipsy, but not drunk yet." We danced a few moments more. The song was winding down, and I almost hoped the next one would be a slow song too. "Scully." "Right here." "Have I told you lately that you're beautiful?" "You've never told me that I'm beautiful." "Scully." "Hmm." "You're beautiful. You're the sexiest woman in this room. And that dress is *amazing*." "You can't borrow it. It's too small for you." He laughed, which was what I intended. He sounded entirely too serious for a second there. "I can just imagine the faces if I showed up to work in that," he said. "If you fit into my clothes I'll kill myself." His face sobered at once. "That's not funny." "Sorry." The song ended. He let go of me, and even though the club was packed I suddenly felt cold. Or maybe just overexposed. I wrapped my arms around my waist, and we stood there, looking at each other for what seemed like forever. He stepped closer to me. Put his hands on my face, smoothed back my hair. Kissed my forehead, like he has done so many times before. His lips were soft. It always surprises me, how soft they are. "Have fun, Scully," he said, and walked into the crowd. I went back to my table, and tried to answer the teasing of my friends in a coherent way. But the truth is, I wanted to leave with Mulder. Continue that conversation he'd been aching to have. Two clubs later we were ready to call it a night. Anna had gotten to that, "You know, I *really* love you guys," stage, and Jamie wasn't far behind. As designated driver, Karen only looked on with amusement. I'd had only sodas after Mulder left. We took Anna home, put her into the capable hands of her mother, who'd been expecting this. Jamie was staying with Karen, so we headed towards my place. On the way we passed the exit for Alexandria. "Take that," I said, pointing. "What's in Alexandria?" Karen said. "I think the salient question is 'who'," Jamie said, and laughed, very impressed with herself. "Dark hair and nasty tie?" Karen asked me. "Are you sure?" "No. I'll take a cab if I need to. I just need to see him again tonight." "As you wish." She pulled off the highway. I directed her to Mulder's building, and hopped out of the car as soon she stopped. She leaned out of the window. "Dana!" I turned back. "Trust me, Karen. I trust *him*." "Be careful anyway, okay?" "You'll see me at two o'clock sharp, I promise. Love you." "Love you too." She waited until I was in the building to drive away. During the elevator ride up, though, I had to wonder what exactly I would do. If he wasn't there--or worse yet, if he brought someone home with him-- I'd knock. I wouldn't use my key. The elevator stopped, and I got out, walked down the hall, stopped very calmly in front of his door. I used my key. He was asleep on the couch, in his sweats, with the TV blaring a black-and-white movie. "The Fiendish Plot of Dr. Fu Manchu," probably. "Abbot and Costello Meet the Wolfman." Who cares. I turned it off. He jumped at once, reaching blindly for his gun. "Mulder, it's me," I said quickly, holding out my hands, and he saw me. "Scully? What are you doing here?" "Looking for a good time, just like you." "You're not very funny, Scully. It's three a.m." "Why did you follow me?" "Why did you come here?" "I asked first." He ran a hand over his hair, making it stand up even worse. "Because the last time you had a date you nearly got killed. I wanted to be sure you'd be all right. If you'd just told me you were going out with friends, I wouldn't have." He smiled a little, squinting at me. "So you're a bridesmaid, huh?" "Yes. And before you make any jokes, the dress is wonderful. Moss-green velvet with a square neck and slit up the side. Anna has taste." "I'm sure you'll be beautiful." "What is it with you tonight? Where does all this come from? You'd think *you* were the one who's had too much tequila." "*Are* you drunk?" "I don't think so. I'm thinking too clearly. Though it may explain why I'm doing this." I knelt on the couch, stradling him, put my hands on the sides of his head and kissed him. Hard. His mouth opened in surprise, so I pushed in my tongue and made a circuit of his teeth, ran my tongue along his, shoved my tongue as far back as it would go. He opened his mouth wider. Grabbed my ass and pulled me even closer to him, so that I could feel exactly what effects I was having on him. Not bad. Our tongues duelled back and forth, teeth clicking, lips smacking. I ran my hands through his hair, over his chest. Down into his lap. His mouth left mine and he gasped, "Wait, hold it--" "What?" "Are you here because you want somebody or because you want me?" "Silly Mulder. There's nobody in the world but you." I started kissing his face. His stubble was leaving that prickly stage, entering soft. He was such a combination of hard and soft, in all the right places. A thought struck me. "Do you *not* want me?" "Of course I want you. But not if you're drunk and horny, Scully. I don't do mercy fucks." "I'm here because I want you. I want you because I need you. I need you because I love you. If you have any problems with any part of that, then I'll go. But I need you, Mulder. And I think you need me too." "You love me?" he said softly. "Yes. Silly of me, I know, but--" "Scully. Shut up." He kissed me. Ice ages came and went, the sun exploded, the galaxy ceased expanding and began to contract. That's how long we kissed. "So do you love me too or do I get to love you all by myself?" I asked him finally, and he laughed. "I love you. Of course I love you. I'd have to be blind, stupid and gay not to love you." "I'm glad to know you're not gay." "Why, you--" He started tickling me, and I batted his hands away, shrieking and laughing. The ulterior motive of this was to get me beneath him, and once he'd accomplished this he stopped tickling me. He bent over me, panting. "Love me?" he said. "Yes." "Need me?" "Unbelievably." "No plans to stomp on my heart tomorrow morning?" "None at all." He nodded, satisfied. "Good place to start," he said, and ran his tongue down my throat. I moaned. "I want it fast, Mulder," I said, tugging on his t-shirt. "You think I'm going to rush the first time we make love? C'mon." He kissed a straight line down my body, from my chin, over my sternum, down to the hem of my dress, then he looked up and grinned. "What were you thinking when you put this on?" he asked, teasing the fabric with his fingertip. "That I wanted you to take it off me." "Yes, Ma'am." I was still wearing my coat. We got rid of that first, and then the dress over my head and tossed aside. He made a whimpering sound when he saw me. I suppose I shouldn't have been too surprised--some men really like black lace. He managed to say, "And were you thinking of me when you put *that* on too?" "Of course." I stroked his jaw. The idea of slow was growing on me. "What, don't you like it?" "Woman," he growled, and kissed me again. As he kissed me he picked me up, stood without even a wobble, and carried me into his bedroom. "You have a bed!" "It might be a little musty. It's been a while since it's been used." "Somehow I find that reassuring. . ." But by this time his mouth was nearing my breast and I forgot what I was going to say. His hands never stopped stroking me, down my arms, from my ribs to my hips, the length--such as there is--of my legs. He took off my shoes with a sigh. "My fuck-me shoes," I supplied. "And why not," he answered, and kissed the sole of my foot. He kissed his way back up my leg, paused for a moment at my thighs, and hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties. "Tell me one thing." "Anything." "How do you wear garters with a dress that tiny?" "Very, very carefully. Need help getting them off?" "I think I can figure it out." He unhooked the garters and rolled down my stockings, kissing my legs as he went. Did I mention that time had stopped before? This was worse. One touch would make me come, I was sure of it. At least I'd shaved. He had me naked in a few minutes more, unhooking my bra with another sigh, tossing my clothes aside. He kissed and nuzzled my breasts, and I said. . .well, I don't remember what I said. Something along the lines of, love me, love me, love me. With embellishments. Finally he moved away from me enough to whip off his t-shirt. I had to help him with the sweatpants, and the boxers beneath them. Cotton. Blue. Strange the details that you remember. I explored his naked body as thoroughly as he explored mine, and the sounds he made, made me smile. Men can be wonderful. A naked aroused man be do wonders for your ego, when he's calling out your name, reaching for you. I got on top of him, straddled him. Kissed him, kissed him, kissed him again. "Love me?" I said. "Body and soul." "Your heart?" "Yours forever." "Good answer," I whispered, and lowered myself onto him. Cliches become cliches because they are always true. He filled me. Made me whole. Entered me so fully that when I came I felt it in my fingertips, in my toes. And he came, not with an inarticulate cry but with a "Dana . . ." I collapsed on top of him, not able to hold myself up any longer. His arms tightened around me, pushed slowly through my hair. "Love you," he said. "Love you too." "Everybody's going to know tomorrow." "Know what?" "That I feel *good*." He chuckled, the sound rumbling through him. "Me too." "So, you want to be my date?" "As long as I don't have to wear moss-green velvet with--what was it?" "You don't have to wear velvet." "Scully. . ." "Hmm." "Not yet, but soon, we've got to talk seriously. Make plans." "I plan to be with you. Not every minute, but nearly every minute. How does that sound?" I could hear the smile in his voice. "Sounds good." He kissed the top of my head. He stroked my back until I feel asleep. He probably continued doing it while I slept. Just because I need him doesn't mean I'm weak. Just because I love him doesn't mean I like him all the time. Just because he loves me back doesn't mean it's going to be perfect. But we're going to try, just because. End. * * * * "Somebody" belongs to Depeche Mode and is used without permission.