"Snapshot 7:Delectable" 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. A kiss here and there. MulderTux. ScullyDress. MulderQuotes. References to an espisode from Season 1 or 2, I can't remember when. No spoiler, just a familer quote. Note: The passages in German (be patient, you'll see!) are my best guess based on about four hours hunched over a German dictionary. If anyone out there speaks German (well...duh,) I'd appreciate any corrections to my diction, spelling, etc. Comments, questions, suggestions, etc. continue to be welcome. Feedback is always appreciated: drambo@azstarnet.com ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Taurus piloted by Fox Mulder gently pulled to a stop for the red light. For perhaps the sixth time that night, Scully pulled the passenger visor down, using the vanity mirror to look at the earrings again. Her hands went to the stones, rubbing them with the side of her finger. She dropped her hands into her lap and just stared at her reflection. Mulder's fingers were suddenly stroking her cheek, his touch so light that it helped to see his hand in the mirror so she could be sure he was touching her, that it wasn't a dream. "Do you like them?" Mulder asked, his voice husky...low... dangerous. "I love them, Mulder," Scully answered, feeling some kind of strange tightness in her throat. Mulder waited a moment, watching Scully watch herself in the mirror. "I've never seen you look more beautiful...Dana." Scully closed her eyes at his use of her first name, a delicious combination of a shiver and a tingle running through her body. In the strange nature of their relationship, it was just so much more...intimate when he did it. She turned her head quickly and kissed his fingers gently. An impatient driver indicated that the traffic control signal had changed with a copious amount of horn. Mulder made no move to remove his hand. "Think I should flip him off?" he asked, his voice teasing, light. "Just drive, Mulder," Scully said, reaching to flip the visor up. Mulder laughed softly, his chest hitching with gentle humor. He turned his attention back to the road and let his foot off the break. The car glided into traffic, and Scully took the opportunity to study he man sitting across from her. Despite her intermittent protests about how Mulder always got to drive, she did enjoy watching him at moments like this. His attention was totally focused on the matter at hand, his eyes sweeping the road, left and right, looking for dangers, his strong, nimble fingers guiding the car through traffic like a shark through the ocean, and yet, at the same time, Scully knew that Mulder was completely aware of her, sitting next to him, how his body language conveyed his ease with her, with them, their unspoken togetherness. She took another good, long look at him, and felt something slowly uncoiling inside her, a moisture, a heavy, full feeling that started in her stomach and slowly spread through her entire body, a warmth that was totally encompassing. His tux fit him perfectly, and Scully was quite sure she had never seen anyone look quite so dashing. He'd even managed, somehow, to tame his hair for the evening. It wasn't cut to Bureau standards by any means, but at the same time, it didn't look like had tumbled out of bed, fallen into his tux and shown up on her doorstep to squire her around the town. The hotel hosting the banquet appeared on their right, and Mulder slid the car into the line waiting for the valets. "Last chance, Scully," he whispered. "We can ditch this thing, get a room, order room service, fill up those big tubs with bubblebath..." His voice drifted off, letting Scully's mind fill in the rest. Dana grinned, a sly, wry grin. That was one of the reasons she had fallen for Mulder, she knew. Unlike most men, he instinctively knew that her mind could provide the missing details of what he was proposing much better than any words of his ever could; he left the best parts unspoken but not unpromised, letting her libido fill in the blanks. And what an attractive picture it painted; in a flash, Scully's mind had done just that, had filled in the blanks quite nicely. She saw them in the tub, clinking delicate, narrow glasses of champagne together, the bubbles up to their chins, both of them gloriously naked, the warm, slick, glycerin-soaked water making them both deliciously slippery and slick. She felt the color crawling up her chest, her neck, into her cheeks. "Mulder...any other time, and....but right now, I want to go to this thing. I want to walk in and have everyone in that place see me on the arm of the most handsome man in the District." "You're dumping me, Scully? You got another date stashed somewhere in the hotel? I'm hurt." Scully twisted in her seat to make a retort, and then she saw his eyes. They locked gazes, and his eyes spoke volumes about how deeply touched he was at her words. She reached out a hand to stroke his face, her nails lightly grazing the strong line of his jaw, and then her door was being opened, the uniformed doorman offering Scully his hand so she could step out. Scully's dress was slit, but not immodestly so, but the doorman was still treated to a delicious glimpse of Scully's leg as she stepped out of the car. Mulder saw where the doorman's eyes were and briefly considered shooting him. Mulder got out, took the ticket the valet offered him, and quickly walked around the hood of the car. Scully linked her arm in his, and together, they walked into the hotel. *** The main ballroom was decked out for the event. Over sixty circular tables were scattered around, each of them with small cardboard nameplates indicating the attendee they were reserved for. A small registration table was set up outside in the hall. As Scully took care of the paperwork, Mulder glanced around. There were many couples there, many women dressed in their evening best, and most of the men were wearing tuxedos. Mulder checked a few of the women out, and realized with a small, private smile that none of them could hold a candle to Scully. She was leaning over the registration table, softly explaining something to the woman acting as registrar. He could see the soft, silken skin of her right leg to just above her knee. Not immodest at all, but knowing that that leg went all the way up...ending only with the graceful curves that were at that moment gently pressing against the dress in such a way to make their delectable outline only that much more obvious, made Mulder's breathing suddenly labored. God, she was gorgeous, he thought. Scully felt his eyes on her and turned her head, flashing him a smile, letting him know that she knew he was looking, and that not only didn't she mind...she appreciated his attempts to drink her in. She straightened, walking over to where Mulder stood. "Good news," she murmured. "No nametags." Mulder grimaced; he'd hated the thought of having to stick one of those paper "Hello! My name is Dorkboy!" tags to his tux. He'd wondered where Dana would have put hers. The strapless evening down didn't leave very much room for such affectations. "That dress...Scully, I only have one question." Scully raised her eyebrows, waiting. "Where do you keep your gun?" Scully chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that resonated in Mulder's chest, making his heart shoot off little sparks of heat and energy. "Wouldn't like to know," she grinned, once again taking his arm and turning him towards the banquet room. "Scully! Dana Scully!" a voice called, and the duo stopped. Dana turned to face the voice, and saw Georgette Armstrong striding towards her. Inwardly, Scully groaned, but fixed the best, most plastic smile she had on her face. Without turning her head, she said "Med school classmate. Georgette Armstrong. God, I hate her." Mulder felt something from Dana, another silent channel of communication opening. "Dana Scully!" the woman said, stopping in front of her. "God, it's been...what? Six years since I saw you?" "Five, actually," Dana said, and in his head, Mulder heard the unspoken part of her response. Armstrong turned her attention to Mulder. "And who is this heavenly creature, Dana? Where have you been him?" Before Scully could answer, Mulder opened his mouth. "Guten Tag. Mein Name ist Hans. Sie bitte, konnen Sie mir sagen, wie ich das...?" To her credit, Scully didn't blink, but just went with it. "This," she said, using her hand to indicate Mulder, "...is Hans. He's a German pathologist visiting from...." "Deutscheland," Mulder offered. "Yes, from Germany, but I meant...er, Berlin." "Oh!" Armstrong said, clearly impressed. "What did he just say?" Scully bit her lip, trying not to smile. "He asked..." Mulder reached out and touched Armstrong's gown, a tacky, ugly thing that looked as if she'd bought it at Liberace's garage sale. "Ich habe die Farbe night gern. Ich habe lieber grun." Scully, who spoke German, was now struggling to control herself. "He said your gown is lovely," she managed to croak. "Oh, thank you!" Armstrong said. "Bitte." Mulder said, smiling. Scully looked at him and crooked and eyebrow. "Wie hoflich die Deutschen sind!" "Danke," Mulder said, and just as quickly, Scully replied, "Bitte." Mulder looked at Scully. "Entschildigen Sie, wieviel Uhr ist es?" Scully glanced at her watch and nodded. "Es Ist zehn Minuten nach sieben." Mulder nodded, and then turned his attention back to Armstrong. "Fraulein, servieren Sie uns das Abendessen?" Scully coughed into her hand. "What did he say?" Armstrong demanded, her eyes alight. "He wants to know...um...when dinner is being served." "Oh, in about thirty minutes, I guess. Well...it was nice meeting you." And without missing a beat, Mulder replied, "You, too." Armstrong's eyes widened, but she said nothing, turning and leaving Mulder and Scully standing there, barely controlling their laughter. "Mulder, you're impossible," she whispered. "Bitte schon!" he said, smiling. Mulder leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Sometimes the need-" "...to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of humiliation. I know, Mulder. I know." She kissed him quickly on the nose, and then took his hand, leading him into the banquet hall. *** The chicken was rubbery, the portions small, the peas and carrots soggy from being overcooked. The wine wasn't much better, and Scully felt bad for Mulder. He hated chicken with a passion, having eaten more of it than he could remember in his years with the BSU, attending meeting after meeting at police departments across the country. They always ended up with some kind of banquet, and they always served chicken. It was cheap and easy to prepare in huge volumes. Mulder had pushed most of his around the plate, eating a bite here and there so it looked at least like he'd eaten some of it. Scully had done a little better, but most of her meal remained on her plate as well. The conversation was stilted, forced, uncomfortable. They'd been seated with a podiatrist, a dermatologist, an OB-GYN and proctologist, as well each of their spouses, girlfriends, boyfriends and significant others. A alien-chasing, paranormal forensic pathologist and a faux German had little to say to any of them. A couple of people had discovered that Scully worked for the FBI, and had tried to engage her in conversation about her supposedly exciting life as a Special Agent, but Scully has resisted telling them anything about her work. Not that they'd believe that her last case involved a combination of demonic possession, a potential UFO visitation, and a tobacco-chewing sheriff that thought that 'little ladies' had no business being in the FBI, let alone being a medical doctor. Mulder hadn't said much of anything, preferring to let Scully "translate" for him. He made a few boring remarks in German, studying the faces of everyone at the table to see if comprehension showed on any of their faces. No one looked twice at him, focusing their attention on Scully...especially the men. Mulder turned to face her, and was again struck by how beautiful she looked tonight. Even in her work-a-day business attire, Scully was an attractive, interesting, challenging woman. But tonight, in that...dress...that gown, she looked so much like a porcelain china doll that Mulder had trouble keeping his hands to himself. The band struck up a chord, and then began playing, a soft, melodic dance tune that caught Mulder's attention. "Let's dance," he whispered, taking Scully's hand. Surprised, she said nothing, letting Mulder lead her out onto the dance floor. He turned, and she slid into his arms, his right hand at the small of her back, his left holding hers against his chest. They moved to the music, hesitantly at first, until they both sensed the hidden dancer in the other, and then they let the stops out just bit, enjoying the closeness. Scully sighed, leaning her head against his chest for a minute, and then straightening up. She glanced around; a few other couples had joined them on the floor, giving them some camouflage. "I'm sorry, Mulder...I had no idea this was going to be so boring..." Mulder chuckled, using his body to move hers around the dance floor. "I'm having a great time, Scully," he lied. She smiled, appreciating his lie, and telling him with her eyes that she knew he was full of it. "Just let me know when you want to go," he said softly. "Two more dances, Mulder, and we can blow this popstand." Mulder grinned at her. "Deal." *** They made their apologies, Scully insisting that she had an early day, and that "Hans" had to catch a plane back to Germany. As they were walking out, Mulder caught site of Georgette Armstrong out of the corner of his eye. She was watching them leave, and the woman leaned over and whispered something in the ear of the woman sitting next to her, and they both laughed. Scully didn't register the sound, didn't know what had just happened, but Mulder didn't like the sound of the laugh, and had some idea of what had been said, if not the specific words. Something about the Ice Queen, he was sure. He waited until they were out of the banquet hall, but still within Armstrong's sight. His hand came up and found Dana's shoulder, stopping and turning her around. "What-?" she asked, and that was all she managed to get out, because Mulder's mouth was descending towards hers, and God, she had wanted him to do that all night, since she'd seen him on the other side of her door in that stunning tux, since they'd gotten there, the entire time they were sitting at that cramped, overcrowded table, all she wanted was for Mulder to lean over and- Do what he was doing. His mouth was soft and hot and moist, his lips gentle against hers at first, finding their specific, personal rhythm, and then deepening, the kiss drawing and expanding outwards, taking Scully with it, her eyes fluttering closed, her arms coming up and around his neck, pulling him into the kiss...into her... He stepped away, a glint in his eyes, a promise of things to come, perhaps that night, perhaps at some time in the future. "What...what was that for?" Scully asked, her voice faint. "Payback," was all Mulder would say. *** The valet brought the car around, and this time Mulder helped Scully in, taking the opportunity to get his own lingering look at her legs as she stepped in and sat down. She smiled up at him, knowing that he was looking, feeling the warmth spread in her chest at his appreciative glance. Mulder got in and shifted the car into gear, smoothly sliding back into traffic. They drove in silence for a while. After a while, he finally spoke. "Scully, I don't know about you, but I'm starving." She laughed. "Me, too." He glanced over, his eyes asking a question. Hers answered. He turned the car around. *** Hugo's was exactly the right place, Scully thought, although, considering the way she and Mulder were dressed, the other patrons probably think we're the two oldest prom dates in the world. The other patrons, mostly truck drivers, cops and other nocturnal creatures, comfortably filled the rest of Hugo's Diner. The atmosphere was casual, relaxed. Scully closed her eyes, wanting to soak the atmosphere in. She could hear the faint tinks! of silverware against coffee cups and plates, the low murmur of muted conversations, the sound of something sizzling on the grill, the bing! as the cook put another order under the heating lamps and hit the bell. She could smell so many different things cooking, a mixture of grease and meat and...good times. She had lost count of the number of diners she and Mulder had eaten in over the years. It must be in the hundreds, she thought. And on the most special night in our lives...he takes me here. Bringing back the memories of a thousand conversations over a thousand meals, wild theories, debates about scientific proof, arguments over who was paying the bill... She opened her eyes, looking across the booth at Mulder. He'd undone his tie and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt. She could see a few dark curly chest hairs peeking out, and the sight was only just slightly distracting. He was studying her as she looked at him, his hand lightly playing with his coffee cup, slowly twisting it with his nimble fingers. A plate that had once held a burger and fries was pushed to the side, her own plate (tuna in a pita,) was similarly dismissed as they studied each other. "So..." she finally said, glancing pointedly at her watch. It was quickly approaching midnight...the witching hour. Mulder didn't answer her unasked question. Instead, his smile widened a fraction, and he said, "Scully...you are the most amazingly beautiful woman I have ever know." The blush started somewhere around her ankles and raced up her body, coloring her cheeks and ears. "Thank you," she said softly. "No...thank ," he whispered, leaning across the table towards her. "I could start telling you why I love you so much, you know...all the times you've been there for me...your support for my search...everything we've been through...but I don't want to do that." His last words had been spoken hoarsely, urgently, and Dana suddenly found herself having trouble breathing. "What do you want to do, Mulder?" "Take a walk," he said. He stood, pulling some bills out of his pocket and tossing them on the table. He'd tipped the beehive-hairdoed waitress almost 60%, but Scully wasn't going to say anything. The look in Mulder's eyes drew her like a magnet, and she stood to join him. "A walk sounds nice," she said softly. *** They walked down the street, not holding hands, but close enough to feel each other's heat. Mulder removed his jacket and draped it over Scully's shoulder, and she smiled her appreciation. They window shopped, stopping to look at furniture and clothes and electronics, pointing out what they liked and what they hated. Dana felt as if her feet weren't even touching the ground, she was so happy. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had treated her this way. They stopped and looked in the window of another store, and Scully saw a clock on the wall. It was five minutes to midnight. "Mulder..." she said softly, leaning against his arm. "It's getting late..." "I just want to make sure you don't turn into a pumpkin, Scully," he teased. "Oh really?" she asked. Lazily, her arm snaked around his neck, bringing his face closer to hers. Her lips reached for his, and they kissed, bathed in the muted light from the store's interior. It was a long, luxurious kiss that seemed to feed on itself, growing in leaps and bounds, ebbing and flowing with their heartbeats. When they broke, it was a minute past midnight. "Satisfied?" she asked. "Not yet," he grinned. Her smile softened. "Take me home, Mulder." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- End Part 6 (I stopped using Roman numerals because it was getting confusing. Plus, when we get into the chapter 36 range, I'll have to figure out XXXVI and things like that...ugh) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------