TITLE: "A Mind To" (1/2)
BY: Ten
E-MAIL ADDRESS: kristena@ocean.com.au

CATEGORY: V, MSR, some Humour
RATING: R (consensual adult situations not gone into in
detail)
SUMMARY: Scully takes the initiative, leading to a
relationship with Mulder that she only dreamed of - and
also to the most embarrassing moment of her life...
TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: Post "Detours" - in this
universe there is no "Post Modern Prometheus" or
"Christmas Carol/Emily". There is mention of "Small
Potatoes" and other season four eps. Also "The Pilot".

ARCHIVE INFO: It goes to Gossamer through xff. Can be
archived anywhere as long as my name, addy and disclaimer
stay intact.
FEEDBACK: I love to know who is out there in the ether!
THANKS TO: Vickie, Gerry, Sally, Mac and Suzanne.

My website for all my X-Files fanfiction, thanks to the
wonderful Arria, is at:
http://bitter-moon.com/tenxffic/index2.html

DISCLAIMER: The X-Files, the episodes referred to, Mulder
and Scully and all other characters from the show belong
to Chris Carter and his team of writers, Ten Thirteen
Productions and Fox Broadcasting, and are used without
permission. No copyright infringement is intended, no
profit will be gained. Characters not recognised from the
show are mine.


The X-Files: "A Mind To" (1/2)
By Ten, November and December 2002

xXx

A Friday night in December, 1997:

I really can't believe that I'm about to do this...

Hell, I might still chicken out.

One thing at a time. Review the situation as I go.

I take a deep breath and knock on Mulder's apartment
door. At work he said he had nothing big planned for this
weekend. In a way I'm hoping that something has come up.

Stop that! I tell myself. You ARE going to do this!

The door opens. Mulder blinks in surprise. "Hi! I thought
you'd be out doing Christmas shopping."

"Not tonight. Can I come in?"

"Sure." Once inside, he takes my coat and puts it on the
stand. "Do you want a drink?"

"Not at the moment, thanks." I look through into the
living room. The TV is on. "Waiting for the Knicks game
to start?" I ask. He nods. "I thought so, and I thought
we might be able to watch it together."

The look on his face is startled but pleased. "By all
means. Make yourself at home."

We go into the living room. I could sit in one of the
armchairs, as I usually do, but that is not part of my
plan. As Mulder snags a few stray pieces of laundry and
junk and tosses them out of sight into his bedroom, I sit
on the couch, leaning back. As I get comfortable, I can
feel the warmth of where he must have been sitting or
lying before he answered my knock.

Again a look of slight surprise from my partner at my
actions. Then he sits next to me.

"Have you eaten?" Mulder asked. "I phoned for pizza just
before you arrived. I ordered more than usual. Talk about
a coincidence."

"Not really a coincidence. You ordered more so you'll
have the leftovers to eat tomorrow."

"I can't put anything over you, can I?" We grin at each
other.

"Pizza will be fine," I reply. He reaches over to take a
swig from his can of soda. I watch his movements. Fluid
and, as usual, unselfconsciously sexy. The man has no
idea of the power he wields... "It doesn't look like your
shoulder is giving you any trouble."

"Fully healed. No permanent remainders of the mothman's
love bites and claws." Mulder makes a mock show of
flexing his arm, then looks at the TV.

I tell him, "I'd been thinking of bringing over some wine
and cheese tonight. You know, to pick up where we got
interrupted the last time by the mothmen." Though perhaps
doing so when there's a game on isn't such a good idea.
Just as distracting...

But my words get his attention away from the screen.
That's a promising sign. I guess my behaviour would have
him wondering what is going on, big time.

"Oh. I guess pizza and soda will have to be our stand
in," he says. "Though I'm sure I've got some crackers and
dip and other snacks we can make do with as well." There
is a brief pause. He looks guilty. "Scully, I'm sorry
about running off on you at the motel. After you went to
the effort to get the wine and cheese and seeing as I'd
stopped us going to the teamwork conference."

I shrug. "You thought that a boy was in danger, and you
were right. You most likely saved his life that night.
And your pursuit of the case led to us finding his father
alive, just in time." Embarrassed or surprised by the
compliment, Mulder looks at his feet, which are stretched
out next to the coffee table. I continue, "Now that we're
between cases...I felt like it would be good to just hang
out and have fun and talk."

His gaze meets mine. "I'd like that a lot."

There is no wine or cheese, but no monkey-tail man or
mothmen making appearances either...

The pizza arrives. We eat and talk until the basketball
starts, then keep talking when the game is in quiet
moments or commercials. We cover a wide range of things.
As play progresses, we find ourselves ignoring the screen
and continuing with our conversation. At one point we
realise we had been oblivious to an incredible three-
pointer that had the crowd screaming. But we're still at
somewhat of a distance from each other on the couch.

I am very good at 'profiling' my partner after all these
years. At times I sense Mulder looking at me as if there
is a struggle going on inside him. Or that he is poised
to speak, but stops short. Or he does say something but
it is clearly a different subject to what is actually on
his mind.

Hesitation and, ultimately, retreat.

I know what the retreat is from.

Then one of the commentators remarks about the gameplay,
using a line from a popular song. "You can't roller skate
in a buffalo herd." That catches Mulder's attention.

"I think that's one of the songs you lulled me to sleep
with out in the woods."

"It was." The first was about Jeremiah the bullfrog. Then
Mulder woke up later on in the night, in pain from his
shoulder, and I got him back to sleep with a few other
songs.

Now I stare thoughtfully off into space.

"Scully? What's on your mind?"

"I was just thinking... You *can* roller skate in a
buffalo herd. You and I have proven that."

He gives a smile, but then it fades. "Sometimes we have.
And sometimes the herd runs us over," he points out.

"We get back up again. And we can be happy if we've a
mind to, just like the song says." I look at him. Take
the hint, Mulder, take it!

"It's a good philosophy," he agrees, but no move is
forthcoming on his part. Just hesitation. Just his brain
whirring as he analyses what I've said and its possible
meanings, whether he is misinterpreting. 'She's wanting
to be closer, but how close is she talking?' Then the
basketball enters its last few frenzied minutes, and we
focus on it instead.

The game ends. I excuse myself to visit the bathroom.
After using the facilities, I stare at myself in the
mirror. Phase One has gone very well, sharing each
other's company. I know how Mulder feels about me, even
though it is unspoken. And unacted upon. Time to kick my
plan into second gear.

But... Oh God, am I *really* going to do this?

I want to.

Wanting to is one thing, but actually going ahead...

But how is Mulder going to react?

He loves me, but he is not going to make the first move.
There are a myriad of reasons that are holding him back,
one of them being that he doesn't think he's good enough
for me. He thinks that he is going to have to be content
with friendship, with what we have shared in the last
hours, and our work partnership. That that is as close as
we can be.

Someone has to make the first move. And that would be me.
Hints have not produced the desired results, and, as I
feared, my tongue is not letting me come out and fully
state what I want, so actions are needed. Completely
clear actions, leaving no doubt as to my intentions and
wishes.

There must be an easier way, but I can't think of one. If
I don't do it now, I may lose my courage.

I take a deep breath, juggle my decision, and make it. I
initiate Phase Two.

But that takes a few minutes of preparation, and my no-
show and silence puzzles Mulder. He knocks on the
bathroom door and says, "Hey, are you okay in there?"

"Yes."

"Good, because I thought I'd left the seat up and you'd
fallen in," he jokes.

I open the door before I can change my mind. I stand
before Mulder and all jokiness vanishes from his face. He
gapes and stares, his eyes travelling up and down my
body. All I am wearing is a matching set of panties and
bra, in midnight blue silk and lace. I watch him watching
me, and wait to see what he is going to do or say. But
from the glow in his eyes - dazed though it is - he likes
what he sees very much.

It takes him two tries to get his vocal chords going.
"More mosquito bites to look at?"

"No. Not this time." As nervous as I am, it also feels
right to be standing here like this in front of him. Just
like at the beginning of our partnership, when I knew I
could trust him when I had the 'oh my God what's this I
can feel on my back' scare and needed to drop my robe to
show him the marks. "And if you run off after mothmen
now, Mulder, I won't be happy."

"Wouldn't dream of it... But..." He is not moving away
from me, however he is not moving towards me either. I've
really thrown him for a loop. And I thought he was used
to dealing with the extraordinary!

 I finish asking his question for him. "You want to know
what brought this on?" He nods. I answer, at last finding
the words that would not come earlier. "The cancer made
me focus and see what was truly important to me. I wanted
to do this when I had it, but I let fear stop me. Not
anymore. I know how I feel about you and that you feel
the same. Let's stop beating around the bush. Or the
woods..." Standing near-naked in front of him, I also
find that revealing my true, bare feelings actually comes
easily. Ironic. He chuckles at my last comment and a
beautiful smile lights up his face. I reach out and he
takes my hand without further hesitation. I smile and
say, "Let's take this someplace warmer. I'm getting
goosebumps."

"So I can see."

"Oh, you haven't seen the half of it, Mulder." I lead him
into his bedroom, my courage bolstered by the look on his
face. We have to be careful not to trip over the things
that my partner had hastily thrown in here earlier to get
them out of our way. Little had he known...

When I sit down on the bed, still holding his hand,
Mulder hesitates, still standing. "Are you real? I mean,
I've imagined this so many times -"

"You're not dreaming. You said you couldn't put anything
over me, but you can. Yourself, for starters. Come here."

Very quickly I am in bed, in his embrace. He tells me he
loves me and a warmth goes through me that has nothing to
do with our physical proximity and lack of clothes. But
then...

"God, Scully, you're trembling!"

"It's just the cold. And the excitement." Damn, now my
voice is shaking too. Mulder props himself up on an elbow
and gives me a look. "Okay - I'm so nervous!" I admit.

"Nervous? You're the one who stripped down to your
underwear and posed in the doorway!"

"There comes a time when a girl's gotta do what a girl's
gotta do. Doesn't mean I wasn't shaking in my silk
though!"

He strokes my face tenderly, looking worried. "Scully, we
don't have to -"

"I want this. I want you. Touch me, Mulder. Make me so
distracted that I forget all about my nerves. I've served
them long enough."

Mulder obeys, gently and tenderly embarking on his
exploration of my body. My shakes become shivers - good
shivers, that is. Extremely good shivers. I'm being
brought in from the cold, and the warm up process is
progressing nicely. And he hasn't even made it to the
'equator' yet! The thought of that, the anticipation of
it, certainly adds to the arousal factor. He pauses long
enough to ask, "Do you like that? Does it feel good?"

"Yes! I feel so aware, so alive... But you've often had
that effect on me."

Looking and sounding startled at my words, he completely
stops what he is doing - damn! "I have?"

I touch his face and explain, "Even when I was near death
from the cancer, I felt alive when I was with you. More
than ever before in my life, even counting after I came
out of my coma."

So much emotion is in his eyes, then his mouth is on mine
with the same intensity that his heart has captured my
own. I respond in full. Liquid fire takes the place of my
blood as well as obliterating any residue nerves and
fears. I am molten under his fingers, hands, mouth,
tongue, lips and hips. My hands on his skin nearly set
off real sparks as I touch, capture and claim for
eternity.

As I told Mulder, I want this. And believe me, I get it!
And give it!

Love, passion, pleasure, and glorious hitting of the
heights.

And I had no idea the heights could be so HIGH...

Then I curl up in Mulder's arms and sleep.

When I wake up, I can't feel him beside me. I open my
eyes and blink. It is still night-time and there is a
lamp on. The rest of the bed is empty, apart from a note
bearing my name sitting on one of the pillows...

And the sight of it sends me into panic mode. My heart
manages to both stop and sink at the same time.

This cannot be good...

Oh God, did I push him too far, too fast?

I reach for the note with fear and nerves jostling for
dominance; then I hear movement in the doorway. "You're
awake." Mulder comes in, smiling a million watts. He is
wearing a bathrobe loosely over sweatpants and a top. My
partner and lover (and boy, did he adapt wonderfully to
being the latter!) pads over, ditches the robe, and
climbs willingly into the bed and my embrace. As I resume
breathing and touch him, I can feel that his hair is
damp. So that's where he was.

"Thought you'd run out on me and left me with memories
and a note," I mock-scold, then nuzzle his ear.

He makes a contented noise in his throat. "I did run out
in a way - to go for a jog."

"A jog? At this time of night?" I pull back to stare at
him.

"Sex wakes me up," he explains. "After that session we
had, I was wired. Extremely wired! I didn't think you'd
appreciate me prowling up and down in the next room,
trying to burn off some energy. So I waited until you
were asleep, then left you a note in case you wondered
where I was. When I got back, I had a shower. Now I'm set
for the rest of the night."

I shake my head in amusement. Trust Mulder not to be one
of the high percentage of males who zonk out afterwards.
"I'm glad you waited until I was asleep, otherwise I
might have thought, 'It wasn't that bad, was it?'"

"No, it was that good."

xXx

And so a new phase of our relationship begins. Not just
the physical, but really opening up to each other
verbally too.

The sex is wonderful, though there are a snag or two with
the after-effects.

After our lovemaking sessions Mulder is in happy hyper
mode. I, on the other hand, feel so fulfilled and
exhausted that all I want to do is sleep. An ultra-
content zombie best sums up my state of mind.

"How about we have a deal," I suggest to Mulder our first
Sunday morning together as lovers as we are having
breakfast. Our experiences from Friday night onwards have
got me thinking. "After we do it -"

"'Do it'? Such a scientific term, Scully!" he teases.

I gently kick him in the shin. "Fine. After we engage in
our mating ritual, you hold me until I go to sleep, then
you can get up and go for a jog or whatever to burn off
that energy. Then you come back and get into bed to
cuddle up or present me with breakfast, lunch or
whatever. Actually, that's an idea. Channel that energy
into cooking instead of running."

"You're a shrewd woman."

"There is another rule we're going to have to enforce due
to our post-coital differences. We can't have sex on work
mornings."

"Ouch!" Mulder says in genuine pain and with a horrified
expression.

"Like you haven't survived without it before now?" I
remind him. "If we do do it, then I'll be useless at
work, even with an IV drip of caffeine, and you'll be so
chirpy that people will know that something is up. Or has
been... Evenings and weekends are going to have to be
playtime."

He gives a reluctant, martyred sigh. "I guess you're
right."

"And if you still feel like jogging in the middle of the
night, we might have to install a treadmill at my place
and see just how noisy it is. Invest in some
soundproofing."

Mulder makes a 'hmmm' noise, then says, "Well, we can
find out if there are ways and things that don't affect
us quite so extremely, but still deliver the pleasure."

"Like?"

He can really move when he has motive. Mulder scoops me
up in his arms and carries me into the bedroom. "I've got
a few ideas."

Not all of them have the effect that he was aiming for,
but we have fun going through them!

One has me practically melting into the mattress.
"That...has never...felt...so good!"

"It's all in the wrist!"

END PART ONE (OF TWO)




TITLE: "A Mind To" (2/2)
BY: Ten
E-MAIL ADDRESS: kristena@ocean.com.au

CATEGORY: V, MSR, some Humour
RATING: R (consensual adult situations not gone into in detail)
SUMMARY: Scully takes the initiative, leading to a relationship
with Mulder that she only dreamed of - and also to the most
embarrassing moment of her life...
TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: Post "Detours" - in this universe there
is no "Post Modern Prometheus" or "Christmas Carol/Emily". Mention
of "Small Potatoes" and other season four eps. Also "The Pilot".
ARCHIVE INFO: It goes to Gossamer through xff. Can be archived
anywhere as long as my name, addy and disclaimer stay intact.
My website for all my X-Files fanfiction, thanks to the wonderful
Arria, is at:
http://bitter-moon.com/tenxffic/index2.html
DISCLAIMER: The X-Files, the episodes referred to, Mulder and
Scully and all other characters from the show belong to Chris
Carter and his team of writers, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox
Broadcasting, and are used without permission. No copyright
infringement is intended, no profit will be gained. Characters not
recognised from the show are mine.

xXx

We make it to our week's anniversary without incident. And
celebrate so spectacularly that I go to sleep for what I feel will
be a decade, but that's fine because I can't remember my name...
And I got Mulder so good that even he needs to have a rest
afterwards.

"I've been thinking - I should really buy another bed," Mulder
says later on as we're watching the news together.

"Your couch is fun, but yes, that bed does seem old and very
creaky."

"Do you want to help me look for one tomorrow?"

I nod and say, "Sure, after I've had my way with you and slept it
off. Actually, while we're in a furniture store, I'd like to look
at a new sofa. The one I've got just doesn't...accommodate your
length... And I'd really love to cuddle up with you on these
winter nights in front of the TV and the fireplace."

That is what we do. In the sofa section of my furniture store of
choice, I instruct my partner: "Mulder, lie down and try this one
on for size. See if the springs bounce. But do it subtly, so
anyone who notices us just thinks that you're the one buying the
sofa and that all you're going to do is lie on it watching TV." I
know we're not on the work-clock at the moment, but we are out in
public and it pays to be cautious.

Mulder gives me an amused look, but complies. At one point he
heads towards a sofa that he likes the look of, but I shake my
head and say, "Uh uh. Wrong colour. Won't match at all. 'You' want
to look at that one to the right of it."

"Oh. Yes, of course 'I' do."

With those tests, we are able to find a perfect one.

Then Mulder announces it is time to look for a bed. From the look
in his eyes he is going to get me back, big time, for the sofa-
shopping. But I avoid that - for now - by making sure no one else
is in earshot, then whispering to him in seductive tones that I
really want to go home now and just why I want to.

So easy.

xXx

We have not slipped up at work. No one seems to suspect anything.
Or nothing more than they have always suspected anyway. I
certainly have a happy Christmas.

After the New Year, Skinner asks me to write a report giving my
evaluation of the Quantico pathology facilities. An upgrade is
being planned and they want input from relevant parties. So that
means some work time away from Mulder, back at my old teaching
halls, so I can make sure that I put down everything of possible
use. Then finally my part in that task is over and I am back where
I belong.

I missed my partner while I was at Quantico. And upon my return
Mulder surprises me by having all the backed-up reports and
expenses forms done.

"I saw through your ploy," I tell him that night. "You did all the
paperwork to spend more personal time with me instead of having to
bring work home."

"And you're complaining?" is his response.

The next Saturday is cold. After getting the shopping out of the
way, we are doing chores around my apartment. Mulder phones for a
pizza.

I give him a stern look when he hangs up. "Mulder, we've just
bought plenty of things we could have had for lunch. Much
healthier things."

"It's my reward for doing your dusting. And speaking of health, we
can burn the calories off right now if you like. I'm up for a
quickie before the pizza arrives."

"With the devious objective that while I sleep, you can eat the
whole thing. Not to mention get out of doing more housework."

His look flicks onto 'smoulder' and his voice becomes a sexy
glide. "I'll have something nice cooked for you by the time you
wake up. That comes under 'housework', does it not?"

He does have a point. He has proven to be a great cook, and
certainly does channel energy into it. And we do have quite the
joint appetite to appreciate the results these days.

I thought we'd have our session in my bedroom, but somehow it ends
up being on the sofa. Mulder then holds me. He whispers beautiful
things in my ear and strokes me as I begin to drift off...

The doorbell rings, hiccuping my blissful slide into slumber.
Damn, Dominos are getting fast...

Mulder calls out: "Just a minute!" and hastily scrambles up. Our
'quickie' did live up to its name, but instead of only getting out
of the way what clothing was absolutely *in* the way we shed all
of our clothes at the start in haste. So now I get a nice, albeit
quick, look at my partner's rear before he hikes his sweatpants
back on. He reaches for his sweatshirt with one hand while tossing
items of clothing to me with the other, and kicking a few things
under the sofa. I am under the quilt that we usually keep draped
over the back of the sofa, so I hide the gathered clothing under
the quilt, next to my skin.

Sweatshirt and pants on, Mulder slips his boxers into my cache of
clothes and then his eyes hastily sweep up and down my form,
making sure that the quilt is covering everything. He nods, grabs
his wallet and heads for the door. My mind is being sucked down
into sleep...

"Sir!"

Why is Mulder being so formal with the pizza guy? I mean, I know
he loves the food, but really...

I'm too sleepy to care.

Hang on. That was Mulder's panic voice. He has a panic face, and
that was its verbal mate.

Sir. Oh hell, it can't be -

My eyes pop open. The sofa is bang in line of sight of the front
door. And Mulder, expecting the pizza delivery, has not just
opened the door a crack. So our boss, Skinner, is standing there,
staring in at me.

Talk about a mood killer.

Various thoughts stampede through my head. Not to mention a yell
of unvoiced horror probably equal to the one I made a few minutes
ago of pleasure...

I curse Mulder for not taking one second to look through the
peephole before opening the door.

I curse whoever built these damn apartments so that the layout was
such that I HAD to put the sofa right here.

I curse the new sofa. If we didn't have that, then I would at this
point be safely out of sight in the bedroom.

I curse -

Mulder blurts out, "Hello, Sir. I was expecting the pizza man. Um,
Agent Scully is sick - looks like the flu or one of those twenty-
four hour bugs - and I'm here looking after her."

A good thinking-on-his-feet explanation for my current state. And
for Mulder's presence in my apartment at this time and day.
Perhaps this situation can be salvaged after all.

God, I'm so tired I just want to curl up and let the boys sort it
out between them.

Skinner is talking. Rapidly. "I'm sorry to hear that. I was
heading in to HQ for a meeting and the head of accounting just
phoned me on my cellular..."

I'm trying to follow what he's saying, but he's talking so fast -
out of embarrassment? - and I am so zonked... Something about the
accountant losing my evaluation report thanks to a virus on his
laptop, blah blah blah, he needs it again, Skinner said my
apartment was on his way past and he would call in and get another
copy if possible.

God, don't these people have lives or weekends? Or back ups?

I'm struggling to think. "I don't think I've got a hard copy
here..."

"Do you have a copy on disk you could spare?"

Mulder jumps in. "I know where it is on the hard drive of Scully's
laptop. I'll print it out or save a copy onto disk for you."

NO! That means that Skinner has to come in to wait for the
computer to fire up! Mulder, just give him the whole damn laptop!

Our boss steps uncomfortably into the room and closes the door
behind him as Mulder crosses over to my computer desk.

Oh God. Mulder is so charged that he's practically bouncing off
the walls!

Skinner stares after him, then looks down at me. "Sorry for the
inconvenience, Agent Scully. I hope you feel better soon."

I surreptitiously pinch my thigh in an effort to stay awake and
alert. "That's fine, sir. I know you need it. And I'll be fine by
Monday."

I guess I do look like I have a flu bug. Flushed, sleepy,
increased respiration and breathless voice... Perhaps we will get
away with this.

And men are usually the ones who are zombies afterwards, so
hopefully this role reversal is enough to throw Skinner off.

But there is an odour unique to sex and I am dearly hoping that
our boss is not smelling it now. Oh Lord, are his glasses fogging
up?

Would it have been worse if it were my father instead of my boss?
Let me get back to you on that one!

Damn. We've been so careful.

Mulder has fired up the computer, but can't keep still. Is he
humming? I can't quite hear. I sincerely hope not... Or if he is,
it had better not be about roller skating with buffalo... Skinner
doesn't know quite where to look or where to stand or sit.

"Won't be long, sir. Do you want some coffee?" Mulder asks
solicitously.

No! I want to scream. The hormones must be clogging Mulder's
thoughts too, though I guess he's trying to pretend that
everything is normal. But if Skinner says yes, then that's even
more time he'll be in here! Every second is already an eon!

"No, thank you," Skinner says politely.

I nearly sigh with relief.

Casual. Act casual. Professional. And sick. I'm supposed to be
sick. I will just disregard the fact that I am naked under this
quilt and that I am currently holding an armful of mixed his-and-
hers clothing and underwear for dear life. Skinner doesn't know
I'm naked. Remember, when making a speech, you are told to picture
the audience naked to put you at ease, I tell myself. I just have
to picture myself clothed. And I hope that nothing incriminating
is visible underneath the sofa.

Too late I think of all the other options we could have used. I
could have told Skinner we'd email the file to him at HQ, so he
could print it off there and give it to the accountant... I could
have -

I pull myself out of those thoughts, noticing that Skinner is
staring at something. I follow his eyeline, having to crane a
little to manage that, trying not to reveal anything hidden under
the quilt in the process.

Skinner is looking at Mulder's feet. Those feet are probably
nearly tap-dancing with energy overflow... But also they are bare,
and our boss might be wondering just how casual and at home Mulder
has made himself in my apartment as a 'carer', especially since
I've got rather cold wooden flooring in this room...

Mulder starts chatting about a recent sports incident that had
been on the news. Two fielders racing to try to catch a ball had
collided so hard that one of them was knocked out.

Skinner nods. "I saw it. They showed shots of one of the fielders
in the newspaper this morning. He had quite a hump - I mean, LUMP
- on his head." Now our boss looks like he wants to disappear down
a hole.

I would be howling with laughter if I weren't currently dying of
embarrassment.

Wow, bald people really do blush all over... Or perhaps he has
been ever since he stepped in here. I haven't dared look at him
long enough to tell.

Now no one is looking at anyone - well, as far as I can tell,
because I'm one of the ones not looking! - and no one is daring to
say anything.

Finally Mulder locates the file and saves it onto a blank disk.

As he is doing so, the doorbell rings.

I had been 'carefully craning' again to see what progress Mulder
was making over at the computer desk, so when the bell goes, I
start, jumping a little. Then Skinner's gaze is suddenly pinned
onto the sofa at the same time as I feel cold air hit my skin. The
quilt has slipped a little and some naked hip and thigh are on
view. I hastily cover up, horrified.

A second later the doorbell rings again. Skinner is the closest to
the door, and he yanks his gaze away from my now-covered middle
and answers. The pizza is here. Skinner pulls out his wallet.

"Sir!" Mulder begins in protest.

Our boss waves it off. He pays the pizza man and from the pleased
look on the guy's face, gives a good tip. Skinner hands the pizza
box to Mulder, who gives him the disk in exchange.

"Consider this my way of apologising for the inconvenience. Thank
you, and I'll see you on Monday. Good thigh - I mean *goodbye*!"
With that, Skinner quickly departs.

Silence. Mulder stands there, still holding the pizza. Then
finally he looks at me with a grin. "Oh well, at least he knows
that your condition isn't contagious! And he knows enough to
appreciate a good bit of leg when he sees it!"

I reply with feeling, "I would kill you now, but I'm too tired to
do it properly..." A yawn ruins the effect.

Mulder looks mock-offended at my comment. "Me? I didn't tell
Skinner to do a pizza man imitation and show up at the door just
now! Besides, he seemed to be cool with the situation." My partner
looks smug.

Uh oh, potential male camaraderie alert... But surely the hormones
are fogging his brain. "Cool?" I ask in disbelief. "I've *never*
seen him that flustered!" My voice is slurring. I'm drifting off
again, despite my best efforts.

Seemingly from a great distance, I hear my partner's voice remark,
"If a quickie provided that much action, just as well we didn't go
for a longie! Hey, now that Skinner knows, maybe a little boffing
before work would be okay."

That's my boy. Always thinking ahead. Or with one of them
anyway...


THE END (PART TWO OF TWO).


"You Can't Roller Skate in a Buffalo Herd" was sung by Roger
Miller. I'm not sure if he wrote it as well, but it is copyright
its respective owner/s. No infringement intended.