Title: Rare or Lucky Author: Aoife Tobin Email: Yes please - aoife.tobin@btopenworld.com Distribution: Feel free, just let me know. Rating: PG13 (for sexual references) Category: Story, MSR, Challenge Keywords: MSR Spoilers: Up to season three, some old cases mentioned. Summery: Post-ep to Jose Chung's From Outer Space. Challenge fic for the Virtual Season of Smut 3. Disclaimers: I wish I made money this way, but sadly I don't, I polish mountains and mountains of cutlery for my money, so please don't sue. * * * * * "Then there are those who care not about extra-terrestrials; searching for meaning in other human beings. Rare or lucky are those who find it. For although we may not be alone in the Universe, in our own separate ways, on this planet, we are all alone." Scully finishes Jose Chung's all new non-fiction science fiction and sighs. She closes the cover and places the book down on Mulder's desk. Right now, she muses, she is all alone. Mulder had gone to Skinner's office to protest yet another detail of the book at least an hour ago. She roots around in her pocket until she finds her phone. Pressing the first autodial button, Mulder's name appears on the screen. "Hello, this is Mulder. I can't get to my phone right now, so leave a message and I'll get back to you." Scully sighs again, hanging up. The portrayal of her life hunting aliens as a perfunctory 'nine to five' job has left her feeling sad, and rather lonely. When she started her job, she did try to approach it as 'nine to five', like she would have any other bureau assignment. What it has now become, she fears, is perhaps worse; all consuming. Deep inside she knows it had stopped being just a job a long time ago. The majority of her colleagues seem to be of the opinion that her partnership with Mulder is even more than that, and to an extent they are right; but only to an extent. The rumours she occasionally has the misfortunate timing to overhear are often passionately crazy, and get on her nerves quite a bit. Sighing again Scully dismisses the thought that the rumours annoy her because in the last few years she hasn't been passionate in any sense. Somehow the professional portrayal of herself in Chung's novel pushes those same repressed buttons. It niggles her that a creative genius, in the attempt to write a best-seller, in the midst of so much fallacy, could not find it in his realm of inventiveness to conjure a steamy relationship between Mulder and herself. Not so much because she wants people to think it is true, but because she wants to believe someone thinks her possible of such a relationship; but no, to Chung she is a federal employee, no more no less. She dials Mulder again, and once more is diverted direct to voicemail. "Urm, Mulder. It's me. You've been in that meeting a while now. It's nearly four. I'm going home now; it is a Saturday after all." She hesitates, biting her lip a little "Mulder. Why... why not come round to min later? Say seven? Erm... I'll cook something." * * * * * Scully pushes the trolley down the aisles in a mild state of panic. She has never really been a super cook. She can cook for herself; salads, poached eggs, bolognaise, the occasional pie with pre-made pastry; but has never been skilled at presentation cooking, as her mother loved to remind her with endless 'dinner party' cookbooks at Christmas and birthdays. Despite it only being Mulder, she feels compelled to make something beyond lasagne, or the normal take out they have when they eat together. Shuddering at the thought of souffles, hollandaise sauce, and the perfect Thanksgiving dinner, she tries to quell her panic. "Concentrate on what you know you can do!" she urges herself aloud, causing the shopper across the aisle from her to look up in confusion. Scully flushes a little at being caught talking to herself and heads for the fruit and veg section. She knows what she's great at; cocktails. She grabs some lemons and limes and decides to wow Mulder with her drinks, so he won't notice as much her poor attempt to pile small amounts of food impossibly high in the centre of an over-large plate before drizzling with coolie or jus or some other fashionable word for sauce. Through all her planning she represses the feeling that this is more than a meal. When she told Chung she had been 'surprised' to find Mulder in her room, she had omitted that a large degree of her surprise had been due to waking from a rather smutty dream about her partner, only to find him just beyond the foot of her bed. She has always acknowledged that such dreams are irrelevant; Lord she'd even had a few about Skinner; all just a by-product of stress and hormones and the like. What has troubled her a little is that the Mulder dreams have been getting more frequent of late. * * * * * Scully sips her Slippery Surprise, and contemplates her handiwork proudly. Not only had nothing burnt, but it was all cooking at a pace to finish at the same time; something that often she doesn't manage. Having given up the idea of fancy piles and drizzles, after all, Mulder doesn't have the smallest of appetites, Scully has decided to make Thai Green curry with chicken on rice, and, as she overbought on the lime front, a lime meringue pie. Meringue, it turns out, isn't that tricky. On the rare occasions she watches daytime telly, Scully has heard all about the perils of meringue, and thus nearly decided against it. She smiles at her achievement; twenty minutes hand-whisking a tablespoon of sugar in at a time, but easily accomplished soft fluffy peaks that didn't fall on her head when she turned the bowl upside-down. Taking another sip of her cocktail, she's startled by the door. Mulder! Her heart leaps, and she shakes her head. For God's sake, she thinks, it's just Mulder, not some silly crush like cute Jake in 8th grade, that mysterious philosophy major at Uni, or that sexy Croatian doctor on ER! She picks up the cocktail he has prepared for Mulder, takes a deep breath and opens the door to see him standing there with his usual grin. "Slippery Surprise?" she offers, holding the drink out towards him. "Why Agent Scully, I thought the day would never come." He jokes, stepping through the door. Scully gives her usual 'death stare' she'd been perfecting over the last three years, then breaks into a smile. "Well, I know you like to occasionally indulge in something fruity." She retorts. Mulder takes the drink from her with one hand, and has a sip. "Mmmn, it certainly is fruity. Not at all bad though. Do I taste something naughty beneath this fruity exterior? Whisky of some description?." "Scotch. You don't think I'm just knocking up healthy smoothies do you? There's some Creme de Banan in there too." "Nice.... And speaking of nice, the smell from the kitchen is pretty pleasant." He comments, twisting his neck to try and get a better view. Scully becomes suspicious of the hand still behind his back. "What do you have there, Mulder?" "Well, I can't just turn up to a meal without brining something." He dramatically produces From Outer Space from behind his back; Scully groans. "You left it on my desk," He says "before ditching me." "Mulder, I did not 'ditch' you. It's a Saturday. I didn't even need to be in work. I didn't even need to be up before ten..." Mulder's smile stops her rant as he proffers the text. "Please don't make me read it again. It's not even really mine. I found it by the water cooler on floor three and confiscated it." "Oh" Mulder raises his eyebrows "then I'll just put on your bookshelf, with all those other books that 'aren't yours'." He chuckles. Scully grabs it off him. "I'm certain I'll find some use for it. There's a wobbly chair around here somewhere." She sarcastically retorts. Mulder is impressed at her sharpness; quick wit usually being his domain... although his joke may have mentioned absorption quality. "That's no way to treat a first edition of a tipped best-seller. I was thinking of signing one and selling it on Ebay. Would you sign it too?" Scully cries a cry of frustration and promptly thumps Mulder in the chest with the copy still in her hand, before laughing at the silliness of it all. "Sorry. Couldn't help it." Mulder beams "You did help him out, after all... Diana Lesky." "Only because you wouldn't... Reynard Muldrake." She counters "Anyway, I really respected him as an author... before this." She chucks the book onto her coffee table. Mulder opens his mouth to make a smart quip about trusting no one but is interrupted by a sharp bleeping from the kitchen. "Grub's up." Scully leads him into the kitchen. Entering the kitchen Mulder is surprised. "Cooking Scully?" he once more raises his eyebrows. "Yes. And? What of it?" Scully bristles. "Oh nothing. Just never saw you as a culinary expert. Clearly I was wrong." Mulder attempts to back-pedal. "Well... you were. I am." Scully bluffs, inwardly shocked that Mulder knew her hidden weakness. Is there anything this man doesn't know about her? * * * * * As the meal progresses, Scully watches on in amazement, as Mulder heartily enjoys her curry. Apparently Thai is one of his favourite kinds of cuisine - yet another fact she'd never taken the time to find out. Her guess would have been pizza, or maybe Southern Fried Chicken; though perhaps not after that Chaco case. As Mulder masticates the final mouthful of his meal, Scully observes him intensely; she loves the way he chews. Watching his lips move is almost hypnotic, and when his tongue quickly licks some sauce from his full bottom lip she almost melts inside. Stop it, she chastises herself, willing her own tongue to start working without a hitch. "Another Slippery Surprise?" she offers. "Actually Scully," Mulder begins with a twinkle in his eye "Lovely as that was, do you mind if I make something?" "Urm, sure." Scully replies hesitantly, gesturing towards her liquor locker. Mulder gets up and opens the cabinet doors as Scully starts slicing the lime meringue pie. "Boy Scully - you've certainly got a very wide range here. I haven't driven you to drink already have I?" "No Mulder. When you drive me to drink I won't rush to stock up on butterscotch schnapps." She plates up the pie and turns to Mulder, placing the pie on the table. "I had a sort of cocktail party with some girlfriends a little while back, and had, well, a large selection of the more obscure intoxicants left." She explains, smiling a bit at the memory of Ellen and the others all getting thoroughly merry at what was actually a cocktails and lingerie party. The smile fades as she realises it is certainly more than a 'little while' since that party, about two years. Back then things seemed so complicated, but on reflection everything was so simple compared to the present. Suppressing a small sigh, she watches Mulder shuffling through the bottles. "What are you looking for?" "It's a long shot, but your Slippery Surprise reminded me of a drink I once had at Oxford. Well, I say once; it was one occasion but I may have had quite a few, then a few more. Do you have any George Dickel Tennessee whiskey?" "Um, no Mulder. How did you get that in Oxford anyway?" "I think another Yank had brought it, or had it sent over, or something." "Ah right, will shop-brand generic whiskey do?" "Yeah I suppose. Makes the name a bit obscure but oh well." Mulder shrugs, gathering the rest of the ingredients. "Can you pass some ice?" Scully plops a bag of pre-made ice on the counter for Mulder who finished the drinks off and holds both aloft with a flourish. "Viola, Slippery Dickel...ish." Scully takes the glass and cautiously sips. "Very nice Mulder, very nice. Care for some pie?" "You bet." Says Mulder, taking a seat. * * * * * After finishing the pie, the Slippery Dickels, a Bailey's and whisky mixture of Scully's called Dick Wells, and particularly potent highball concoction Mulder produced called Dirty Dick, Scully suggests moving to the lounge. Tipsily, they both stand. "Oooh, but what about the cocktails, Scully?" Mulder half- whines "We'll have further to go to make them in the lounge." "I'm sure we'll be fine. We'll make one more now, and then come back when we need to." "Okay, I'm going to make a Hot and Spicy Dirty Angel." Mulder proclaims "Do you have any Jagermeister?" "Ah ah ah." Scully admonishes. "It's my turn. Anyway, I don't have any Yegawhatsit. But if you like spice, I do have some pepper vodka." Mulder nods in agreement as Scully makes up a pair of Hot and Dirty Martinis, and carrying them, ushers Mulder towards the sofa. * * * * * A few cocktails later and Scully is making her way around the room, just a little unsteadily, lighting candles. Mulder watches with adoration as she turns on some quiet background music. "Scully, I must say, you have been the perfect host tonight." He comments. "Oh it was nothing." She lies, blushing at the flattery. "No really; superb home-cooked food, a smutty cocktail competition, cosy atmosphere, and the best addition to a perfect evening - your company." Now Scully is really blushing, and a little anxious of where this could be going. Has Mulder figured that it might be more important to her than a friendly meal? She starts to protest his compliments, but he interrupts. "I mean it; I just don't believe we haven't done this before, had a proper chat, no aliens or conspiracies; I've learnt so much about you tonight, and" he pauses "You know, thus so much about myself." Scully looks a little puzzled. She too is glad they have managed a proper conversation, about everything and nothing, with no hidden subtexts, but she worries that perhaps she has said too much, gotten too close. She sits down on the sofa with him, a good foot between them. "Mulder, you're drunk." She smiles, secretly hurting a little, because she fears that his words, the way he's looking into her eyes, really is just down to alcohol. "Am not." He objects. "Are too." She insists, before acknowledging "But I do know what you mean. For instance, I never knew you liked Thai until tonight." "Honestly?" His eyes widen as Scully nods in confirmation. "And there was I thinking that you had chosen it specially." "Nope, just luck I'm afraid. But, you see, now I now, I can keep it in mind for future reference." "Future reference eh? So we are planning to do this again?" Mulder asks, hoping upon hope the answer will be positive. "Sure." Scully nods "I think." She hesitates for a moment before admitting. "To be honest, I'm not even sure what 'this' is." Mulder contemplates her answer. He too is confused. He had come round for what he had presumed would be a rare but not unordinary end of case take-away, and had been greeted by what many would call a romantic meal for two. Realising Scully is waiting for him to speak next, and unsure of what he sees in her eyes, Mulder lightens the direction a little. "Well, whatever 'this' is, how about I cook next time? It can be a thank you for all the work you did tonight." Mulder smiles, still trying to see through her expression. He knows she is good at masking her feelings, just as he is; but what if she's not masking her feelings now; what if she just doesn't have any? Perhaps more dangerously, what if she does? He knows he likes Scully, more than anyone before; but he isn't sure what that means. Love? He had certainly said he loved others, and at the time felt he meant it, but his feelings for Scully are different from those he had for Phoebe or Diana. Almost certainly stronger, but different in a way he can't put his finger on. Fear of Scully's feelings not matching is what is keeping him from blurting his thoughts out this very moment. "If there's any tequila in that cupboard I can male some great Hot Pants to thank you right now." He quips, clumsily avoiding the conversation they both know needs to be had soon. "Erm," Scully blinks in surprise "Maybe we've had enough. I'm rather tipsy myself, and I think you are too. I can't believe some of the dark secrets I've let slip about myself already." "Yeah, I never had you down as a kleptomaniac, Scully." Scully looks offended. "Well, it was only a few nails and nuts and bolts and screws and stuff from the hardware store... and I was only six! You can hardly talk now I know about you're British street sign collection." Mulder takes his turn to appear offended. "Well, it was only a few street signs and traffic directions, and those flashy things they put one cones around road works, and a few of the cones too... and I was only nineteen." He smiles maliciously "At least I don't fancy any doctors off ER!" Scully raises her eyebrows in surprise, having forgotten for a moment she had divulged that information, until a sly grin creeps across her face as she remembers Mulder's own confession. "Two words Mulder; Lara Croft." "Well, no more alcohol for Miss Scully with her wild accusations." Mulder pouts. "How about Playboy's Little Annie Fannie? At least my fantasy date isn't a cartoon or game-character!" "You, you just zip it." Mulder says, running his finger across Scully's mouth in a zipping action. "Annie was when I was thirteen." He searches his brain for something to distract himself from the fact that he has just touched, nigh on caressed, Scully's lips. "Anyway, I was just surprised. I had pictured you as more of a Carter woman" Scully wrinkles her nose. "Oh no no no. He looks about thirteen himself! That and I've always had an accents thing." "Really?" Mulder waggles his eyebrows, clears his throat, and begins talking in a dreadfully general 'European' accent, flitting across languages between and even during words. "Can I possibly interest you in a refreshing glass of Sex on the Beach?" Scully almost falls off the sofa laughing. Mulder grabs her arm to steady her, and when she shuffles back into place, they are an awful lot closer to each other. Silence descends as they gaze into each other's eyes, until the lack of words becomes unbearable. Mulder wets his lips and start starts again in his accent. "You didn't answer, how about-" "Please, Mulder!" Scully interrupts "You'll put me right off accents at this rate!" "How do you know that's not my plan, wee lassie?" he says, in a just recognisable Scottish voice. Scully playful punches him in the arm. "Quit it!" "Awww." Mulder feigns a sulk "But I was pretty good, no?" "No." Scully laughs. Mulder raises his eyebrows. "Ouch. Put away those claws!" In inebriated glee, Scully responds with a truly awful tiger growl and claw action. Mulder laughs, at her feeble attempt, making her laughter at his own impersonations resume. After a few seconds of guffawing, sniggering, chortling, and downright snorting, the pair settle down a bit. "So," Mulder begins, back in this usual idiolect "What about Sex on the Beach?" "No thanks," Scully shakes her head with disdain "Imagine where sand would end up." "Fair enough." He shrugs, moving a little closer to Scully on the couch, and gently stroking her hand with one of his fingers "What about a Slow Comfortable Screw Against the Wall?" they are so close now their lips are nearly touching. Scully casts her eyes down as her cheeks flush a little, before raising them to look into Mulder's and breathily reply. "Only if I can have a Screaming Multiple Orgasm." Mulder's eyes nearly pop out of their sockets; he swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing, and takes a deep breath. "Your wish is my command." * * * * * Scully dreamily awakens to the noise of clunking in her kitchen. For a split second she is startled, and tries to remember where she hung her holster, but as she silently scoots across the bed, she finds her self on a warm section of mattress, with a second dent in the pillow, and everything comes flooding back to her. Slipping on a silky nighty she pads out of her bedroom to the kitchen. Seeing Mulder with his back to her, wearing only his boxers, fills her with a warm glow she had all but forgotten was possible. Mulder hears her approach and turns around. "Hey," he smiles "It was suppose to be a surprise." Scully looks at the breakfast try he is preparing. Some toast pops fro her toaster with a ping, and Mulder starts buttering it. "Is that Cola?" Scully asks, gesturing towards the glass on the tray; Mulder nods. "For breakfast?" "It's good for rehydration Dr Scully." He smiles. She points to some pills also on the tray, and arches an eyebrow. "Vitamins and paracetamol." "Aw, just what I always wanted." Scully jokes. "Normally, my recovery process involves a Mars Bar, glass of water, and once I can manage it, a fry-up." "Really?" Mulder looks surprised. "Well, I'll keep that in mind, for future reference." Scully grins and gives him a tight hug. "You know Mulder," she starts softly, "Chung was wrong." "Well, I know that already, Scully." He exaggerates rolling his eyes. "No Mulder, not with what happened. Well, yes, he was wrong about that. But he was also wrong when he said we are all alone." "So, it took last night to make you finally believe?" Mulder jokes, she smiles in return. "It's still a no Mulder. But we are not alone in the Universe. We have each other." "So, are we rare or lucky?" "Both, I think." Fin.