"Snapshot 6:Dinner, Dancing & Delights" By Dawson E. Rambo Disclaimers: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and other tangentially mentioned characters are copyrighted by Chris Carter, TenThirteen productions, and by Fox Television, a unit of 20th Century Fox, Inc. All rights are reserved, and these characters were used without permission. No infringement is intended. Classification: V+,MSR,A Rating: PG (Some situations might not be suitable for all ages) No sex. No violence, although some is contemplated. MulderAngst. ScullyAngst. MulderTux. Gratuitious Scully Dressed Up. You know the rest. Write me if you want me to go on. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Next slide, please," Dana said. The light from the projector vanished for a moment, and the room was dark once again. In the time it took a heart to beat, the light returned, filling the screen at the center of the conference room, pushing the shadows back and letting Scully see what was before her eyes. As she began to speak, another, more subtle portion of her mind, that part not concerned with DNA fragments and forensic pathology lectures began a quiet, rather lengthy discourse on the similarities between a slide projector and her relationship with Mulder. About how together, they could push the shadows back, fill the center of their worlds with light and joy. And how everything could change in the time it took for a heart to beat. "...when you're talking about the base pairs in the sequence, does that really have a significant investigative contribution?" The voice filled Scully's ears, and she knew she was nodding, but she didn't hear the question. The image up on the screen was an enlarged screen-capture from a DNA mapping program that the FBI had devised to help capture serial killers and other types of violent, repeat offenders. But the only image in Dana's mind was Mulder's face. "Excuse me? I'm sorry...would you repeat the question?" The attendee did just that, and Dana forced her mind to focus on the question, and then provided the answer as smoothly as she could. She all but rushed through the rest of her presentation, wanting nothing more than to get off the stage and do some thinking, some thinking about Mulder. But not the teenaged, moon-eyed, pie-in-the-sky cutsey shit that she dreaded. It was just a little more complicated than that. And at the same time, a lot less complicated than she wanted to admit. After the presentation, Scully held an extremely abbreviated question and answer session, and then as soon as was professionally possible, she excused herself and went in search of a women's room. Finding one, she entered the furthest stall from the door and locked herself in, sitting down and letting out a deep breath. This, she thought, this is why I didn't want to get involved with Mulder. He's filling my every thought, my every dream, my every everything! I can't even give a lecture on DNA forensic technique without seeing his face up on the damn screen! Even now, as upset as I am, I can't stop thinking... The problem, as Dana saw it, had two facets. On the one hand, the simpler hand, the quicker she and Mulder slept together, the better. The mystery would be gone, the tease would be over, and they could go on to whatever came after. There wouldn't be this agonizing anticipation, this...hormone storm that brought back some of the most troubling memories of high school that Dana had. Memories of wanting to have a boyfriend, wanting to be one of the popular girls whose phones were always ringing, wanting to always have a date on Friday and Saturday nights. That overcharged teenage angst was making a huge, huge comeback in Dana Scully's life, and she it. She knew that Mulder loved her, that Mulder wanted her just as bad, if not more, as she wanted him. She had no doubt of his feelings, his desire, his hunger for her. What was driving her insane was that her body didn't care about any of that. Her heart wanted attention NOW. Face it, Dana, she thought. You've got a super-duper, Grade A, Number One case of the Hornies. She sighed, dropping her head into her hands. And, on the surface, there's nothing wrong with that. People get...horny...all the time. It's one of the greatest things about being in a relationship. About being human, for God's sake. But it wasn't quite that easy. Dana had one small fear, one nagging, quibbling little doubt that was gnawing at her. What if... finally taking Mulder into her bed didn't solve the problem? What if it only made it...God forbid...worse? What if it was so good, so perfect, so incredibly profound that she became a zombie? A walking, lurching, stretched-arm slave to the God of Sex? Gimmie a break! she thought, trying to find a laugh somewhere inside herself. An errant lock of hair fell across her eyes, and she blew at it, trying to get a handle on her feelings. Dana checked her watch. It was a little before four. Time to call it a day and go home. Go home, take a nice, long hot bath, read a good book, and try and forget that she had a date with Mulder for tomorrow night, a date that would, for better or worse, change her life forever. *** "Do you dress right or left, sir?" the tailor asked. Mulder looked up from examining his shoes into the man's eyes and asked, "Excuse me?" "Do you dress...is this your first tuxedo, sir?" "Well...this is my first since the prom, I guess." The tailor nodded, suddenly understanding. "I see. Well...perhaps I'll just make allowances for both." The tailor squatted and began working on Mulder again, using his tape measure, hand-held chalk and pincushion to great effect. Mulder had no idea what the man was doing, but he had to admit, he did look like he knew he was doing. "And it'll be ready by tomorrow night?" Mulder asked for the sixth time, by the tailor's count. "Yes, sir." "Can I ask you a question?" "Of course, sir." "How much extra would it be if I just waited around here tonight for it?" The tailor looked up from carefully marking the cuff line on Mulder's left leg, frowning. "Sir, you may wait all night if you wish, but my seamstress won't be in until eight tomorrow morning." "Oh." The tailor stood, brushing the knees of his own pants. "I take it this is an...important event, sir?" Mulder tried a trademark lopsided grin on the man. "The most important of my life, you bet." "Then why are you waiting until the last minute to get your tuxedo?" Mulder hesitated a moment. "Because I didn't know until Saturday that it was going to be the most important night of my life." The tailor pursed his lips, considering this statement. He seemed to come to a decision in his mind. "Does this...important night have something to do with a woman?" Fox just nodded. The tailor continued: "A woman you've known for a long time... but you've just recently come to realize that she is important to you, I would imagine." Mulder snorted. "You're a prognosticator, too?" The tailor smiled. "No, sir, but I've been doing this for close to thirty years. I imagine when you've been doing your job for thirty years, you might just be as good at reading people as I am." God, I hope so, Mulder thought. The tailor reached out, grabbing the pants just below the pockets on both sides and gave them a sharp tug. He stepped back, checking his handiwork. "We're done, sir," he said. "Just leave those pants in the changing room." Mulder nodded, walked down off the fitting platform and into the changing room. He dressed quickly, efficiently. A few minutes later he emerged from the dressing room to find the tailor at the front of the shop, holding the tuxedo's jacket in one hand and writing on a pad with the other. Fox reached into his pocket and took out a business card. "I can be reached at this number whenever it's ready. I really appreciate the rush job." The tailor looked over his glasses at the proffered card. "I was wondering if you'd mind putting your home address on the back of that card, Mr. Mulder." Something in his voice made Mulder obey without thinking. Borrowing a pen, he quickly wrote his home address and telephone on the back of the card and handed it back. "Thanks again," he said, turning to leave. "Have a good night, Mr. Mulder." "Just gonna go home and watch some TV," Mulder said, almost to himself. The ancient cowbell clunked as Mulder let the door close behind him. He looked at his watch and realized it was time to go home. The Knicks would be playing in less than half an hour. Inside the shop, the tailor waited for Mulder to start walking towards his car. The tailor picked up the phone and dialed seven numbers from memory, and waited for someone to answer. "Doris...do you remember what happened on our wedding day?" He paused, listening to the laughter. "How'd you like to help a very nice young man avoid the same problem? Thanks...I always knew I married the best seamstress in the business. I'll see you in a few minutes." The tailor hung the phone up and started to whistle. Sometimes, he thought, it just felt to be in his business. Outside the store, Fox was walking towards his car. He was glancing idly around, not really looking at anything, when one of the displays in a store window caught his attention. He walked over to study it, and the longer he stood there, the larger his smile got. Perfect, he thought. Just perfect. *** No one had ever accused Dana Scully of not being compulsive. It was Monday night, a full twenty-four hours before Fox was scheduled to pick her up, and she was making sure that everything was perfect. First, the dress...she dragged it out of the closet and tore the dry cleaner's transparent plastic off of it. She checked it for any new stains that might have creeped in, and satisfied, hung it on the back of the closet door. She was on her hands and knees, digging through the back of the closet for the matching shoes, when she heard her phone ring. Let the machine get it, she thought. And then another thought, right on the heels of that one, made Scully start backing out of the closet. It might be Mulder, and she hadn't talked to him all day. She made it just before the machine would have picked up. "Hello?" "Scully, it's me." "Hello, me," she said, cheerfully. "How was your day?" "Miserable." "Why?" Mulder heard the concern in her voice, and he had to chuckle. "I know I'm going to sound like an annoyingly cute teenage boy when I say this, but I didn't get to see you or hear you all day. That's why I was miserable." "Mulder..." Dana said, touched by his words and at the same time a little exasperated. "I know...I guess I just wanted you to know that I'm thinking about you...and I'm looking forward to tomorrow night." The silence was longer this time. Dana held her breath, wondering if he was going to realize how inane this entire conversation was. Finally, he cracked: "Gimmie a break, Scully. I'm new at this!" Laughing, Dana hung up. *** It was late in the fourth quarter when the knock came at Mulder's door. Frowning, he stood, his hand automatically going to the holstered pistol on his hip. "Who's there?" he called. "Mr. Antonio," a muffled voice called. Fox recognized the voice, but couldn't place the name. He opened the door to reveal his tailor standing there holding a zippered garment bag. Dumbstruck, Fox just stared. "Uh..." "Mr. Mulder," the man said, "When I was your age...oh, maybe a little younger, I met the most incredible woman in the entire world. I made her my wife, in fact. On our wedding day, my tuxedo wasn't ready because I didn't have enough money to pay the tailor the overtime he needed to tailor it just right. I had to get married in the same suit my father was married in. Smelled like mothballs. "Anyway...I know you're not getting married...but I thought you'd sleep better tonight knowing that you...were ready to go." With that, the tailor handed Fox the garment bag, waved, turned and walked down the hall. Fox waved at the man's retreating back, shut his door and carried the garment back to his bedroom. He hung it on the back of his closet door and went back to watch the rest of the Knicks game. On the dresser right next to the closet, a small black velvet box rested. *** "So...if there aren't any more questions," Mulder said, glancing at his watch to make his point more obvious. The twelve BSU investigators gathered around the long conference table all nodded, and started to push themselves away from the table. All except for one of them. "Excuse me, Agent Mulder...I do have a question." Mulder looked up into the face of Toby McIntire, the new BSU Wunderkid. Rumor had it that he was trying to become the next Fox Mulder in the BSU, the best, most successful profiler in half the time it had taken Mulder to receive similar recognition. The entire meeting had been dogged by this kid, his annoying, cloying questions designed to show everyone how much better at profiling he was than the famous Oxford-trained psychologist and FBI Special Agent Fox "Spooky" Mulder. "What is it, Toby?" "Well, Fox-" "Mulder, Toby. You can call me Mulder." Chagrined, McIntire just nodded. "As you wish. Anyway...I want to know how you figured out that James Lee Dysan was going to be in that particular 7-11 store. You remember the one...don't you, Mulder? You predicted that Dysan would come out of his mobile home at exactly 10:03, cross the street, and commit an armed robbery in the 7-11. We had that placed staked out, and according to the Bureau records, he walked out at 10:04, not 10:03, and did exactly what you had predicted he would. I want to know how you did that, Agent Mulder." McIntire sat back, his arms crossed, a smug, infantile smile on his chubby, ruddy face. Mulder stood there, silently fuming, wondering if anyone would notice if he drew his weapon and put a third eye into the middle of the little brat's forehead. "Dysan, eh? Lemme think a minute....that was about...how long ago...no, don't tell me...oh, right about the time you were...what, Toby? Finding your first zit?" McIntire flushed as the rest of the BSU unit burst into laughter at his expense, but he said nothing for a moment, his jaw visibly working as he struggled to maintain control. "No, really, Mulder...tell us. How did you know?" Some of the other members of the BSU had turned their attention to Mulder, eager to hear his explanation. By the time the Dysan case had come along, Mulder's bona fides in the VICAP/BSU program had already been established. He'd had no need to prove anything to anyone. If "Spooky" Mulder said the suspect ate only green chili, any FBI Special Agent finding a can of red chili at the scene would automatically assume it had been planted. "I guessed, McIntire, OK? I guessed." "That was a pretty big guess, Mulder," McIntire said, his tone so ingratiatingly insincere that Mulder wanted to punch him right on the nose. Mulder leaned down, gathered his leather portfolio together, stood, walked to the door, and stopped. He turned back to face McIntire. "Good thing I was right, then." *** Mulder glanced at his watch as he strode through the Quantico parking garage. It was three-thirty. He had to pick Scully up at exactly six thirty, and there was barely enough time to get everything done. He got into his car, threw the portfolio on the back seat, and had to make three attempts before he could get the key into the ignition. He turned the car over and then held his hands up at eye level, watching them jerk and shake as if he'd just had his sixth cup of coffee in as many minutes. "Like a surgeon," he croaked, lowering his hands to the wheel. *** Dana stared at herself in the mirror. Everything was in place. Hair perfect, makeup...just enough to cover the bad spots. No more than on any usual day. Ok..maybe a touch more lipstick, but then again...this was a formal occasion. She stepped back from the full length mirror hung on the inside of her closet door and did a small twirl. The strapless emerald green dress sheathed her body snugly. It wasn't obscenely tight; she didn't look like a tart. But it did highlight the natural curvature of her body quite well, she thought. The only jewelry she wore was the small gold cross and two faux pearl earrings. Her hair was up, as much as she could put her hair up, in a small, tight French braid. She'd tugged a lock or two out of each side of the braid, letting it fall gently against her cheeks, just forward of her ears. "Perfect," she whispered, and then glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Six twenty-eight. Mulder...you'd better be on time, you.... *** Mulder slammed the car door and checked his pockets quickly. He had everything he needed. He reached into the backseat through the open window and retrieved the single red rose. Moving carefully, he tucked it in at the small of his back, letting the back of his jacket lightly cover the flower. The black velvet box was in his pants pocket. And he carried a videotape. Glancing at his watch, he turned and jogged up the front walk and into Dana's building. *** Six thirty one, Dana fumed. He's actually- The knocking was so sudden that Dana's hand flew to her chest. Gathering herself, she walked over and opened the door. They stood looking at each other for a full thirty seconds before either of them spoke. Mulder was blown away. Quite simply, he could not find his breath. Dana was wearing a green, strapless sheath. Her hair was up, and she looked like a vision in green. Her neck looked so long, so much like a swan's, the skin below and behind her ears looking as soft as the down on a baby duck. Dana Scully, the woman had met just over four years ago, the woman he had seen covered in mud from head to toe, drowned like a rat, in more quarantines than either of them cared to remember, a woman he had seen covered in oil, fer cryin out loud, now stood before him looking... Looking... Shit, Fox, give it up. She looks like a princess. Dana's thoughts weren't much different than his. Fox's tux fit him like a glove, the jacket tapered to his waist, the pants obviously cuffed by an expert. She was touched that he'd taken the time to have it tailored instead of just taking one off the rack. And by sheer, obvious luck, the green of his cummerbund and bow tie matched her dress exactly. Only a computer spectrograph would be able to tell the difference, and for some strange reason, the lab was the furthest thing from Dana's mind at the moment. "Come in," she said, almost a whisper. As he moved past her, Dana saw that he was carrying something. Mulder waited for the door to close, and then turned to face her. "Since it's such a special event," he said, offering her the gift-wrapped box. Eagerly, Dana opened it, saw what it was, and frowned. She started to look up at Mulder. "Mulder...?" It was a videotape. "World's Best Truck Pulls," it said, featuring a huge monstrosity of a truck on the front cover, something that had been built in some redneck's back yard, something that looked like a huge metal monster and it was eating what appeared to be a perfectly good 1996 Nissan Maxmima. And then she got it, and laughed. "Thanks," she said, "I'll treasure it always." Mulder's grin was genuine. She walked past him to put it on top of the TV, and Mulder used that moment to turn slightly to his right, lift the edge of the jacket and draw the rose he'd hidden there like a sword. When Scully turned around from the TV, he was standing less than a foot away, the single long-stemmed red rose held in his hands. "For you," he whispered. Dana's face lit up with pleasure, and her eyes went to the perfect flower. Fox had spent a good twenty minutes berating the owner of the small flowershop down the street from his apartment, demanding that the man find the perfect rose. The man had come through, because this rose perfect; in full bloom, it's red the red of pigeon-blood, of passion, of candy-apples and corvettes. It wasn't quite the red of Scully's hair, Mulder knew, but there was no red that perfect. Except hers. "Mulder...it's gorgeous!" she gushed. She took it from his hands gently, turning it over in her fingers, leaning down to sniff the delicate bouquet. "It smells heavenly," she whispered. "Just let me get it into some water," she said, hurrying past him to the kitchen. She found a bud vase and quickly filled it with water, and dropped the rose into it. Finished, she turned and walked back towards Mulder, who had, by now, removed the black velvet box from his pocket and was hiding it behind his back. "Ready to go?" Dana asked brightly. "Not just yet, Scully." Dana turned back, an eyebrow raised. "Something wrong?" "Yes....definitely," he said. "What?" Mulder studied her, looked at her long and hard. Suddenly, Dana felt self conscious. What? What was Mulder seeing that she hadn't? She quickly touched the cross at her throat, and then checked the earrings, making sure they were both still there. Maybe one had fell out and she hadn't noticed- "That's it," Mulder said. "What? The earrings?" "Yeah..." he said, nodding. "There's just something about them...I dunno..." Scully fought the rising frustration. Mulder had never noticed anything she had worn before, and his own fashion taste was highly questionable, judging by his collection of ties. These pearls, faux though they were, went perfectly well with what she had on, and Mulder was just going to have to- "I was thinking maybe..." he said, bringing the box up from around his back..."you might like something a little more...color coordinated." Scully's hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes flew to his. She reached out with one shaking hand, almost afraid to see what was inside the box. She took it from him, and the hinge was so tight that she had to struggle for a moment before the box opened with a snap! And revealed the most beautiful set of earrings Dana had ever seen. Two darkly sparkling emerald stones stared back at her, each of them surrounded by a circle of tiny diamonds...no, they must be cubic zirconium’s, she thought. If those were diamonds... "Mulder...it's gorgeous. They're gorgeous...I love them!" "Try them on," he suggested, and Dana nodded, and turned to dash into her bedroom. She stopped, turned back to Mulder and treated him to one of her full-blown, one-thousand watt smiles, a grin and a burst of energetic joy that about blew Mulder through the wall. God, there's nothing I wouldn't do for her, he thought. Scully reappeared a moment later, the twin green stones twinkling in her ears. It was a perfect match; they looked like a couple that had stepped out of an advertisement in Town & Country. Mulder stepped close, tipping his head from side to side, wanting to get the full impact of the earrings now that Dana had them on. He'd been staring at them in the box since he'd bought them, but they hadn't had justice done to them until they sat perched in Dana's ears. "Good thing I'm armed," Fox said. "Now that I've seen them on you, nobody better try and take 'em away." Slowly, the realization of what Mulder had just said sunk into Dana's brain. "They're...REAL?" Her hands flew up to her ears, her fingers running over the stones. No...it couldn't be...stones this size...this must have cost...several thousand dollars... "Mulder!" "Let's just say...I melted my Visa card." "Mulder...you shouldn't have!" Dana's voice was a mixture of anger and sadness. "My God, Mulder...of all the-" He stepped inside her space again, closing the distance between them in an instant. One arm went around her, drawing her close to him. The other hand went to her cheek, stroking the skin softly there, tipping her face up so she could see his eyes. "Do you like them?" he asked quietly. "Mulder," she moaned, "I love them." "Then I should have." Mulder leaned down and kissed her, his lips searching for and finding hers, his fingers gently stroking the skin of her cheek, the fingers trailing down and teasing her neck, the hollow behind her ear, the small, bright, coppery-red hairs at the base of her neck...Dana was falling, melting into this kiss, feeling her center dissolve into a syrupy mixture of desire and want and hunger and arousal... "We'd better go," she whispered against his lips. "Or we may not make it out of here..." Mulder nodded against her mouth and pulled his own back. He cast a hand towards the door. "M'lady...your coach awaits!" =========================================================================== = END PART VI Comments, questions, etc. continue to be welcome. drambo@azstarnet.com For those of you who are now ready to burn me at the stake because I promised that VI would have the benefit-banquet thingie, I'm sorry. This one just kind of wrote itself...sorry it took so long. That also means that the banquet thingie has been pushed to VII and that...the other matter...will be pushed to VIII. Sorry...but them's the breaks. :(