Party Line



By bcfan

bcfan@shaw.ca



WEBSITE:  bcfanfic.tripod.com

SPOILERS: post-episode for Firewalker

RATING:  UST

THANKS TO: Redwyne, a party gal *and* a beta!

SUMMARY:  Mulder loves surprises.

 

 



Mulder loves surprises.



Mulder hates being confined.

 

Mulder has a high energy level and is used to running or

swimming every day.



Combine these three facts, and I can only conclude that hell on

earth is being trapped within the walls of this facility with

my partner.  Especially when he's healthy and bored.



Scully's head shot up from her journal as a basketball

whizzed passed her ear.  She threw down her pen and

narrowed her eyes, glaring angrily.



"I swear to god, Mulder, I'll shoot you if you don't stop

trying to hit me with that ball."



"I'm not trying to hit you, Scully.  I'm trying to see how

close I can miss you," Mulder declared in his most

irritating logical voice.  "And besides - you don't have a

gun.  Idle threats are not polite."



Scully gritted her teeth.  "Can't you find something else to

do?  Call your friends?  Search the Internet?  Read a

goddamned book?"  She gestured at the bookcase.  It was

the seventeenth day of a month-long quarantine,

undergoing level 4 decon procedures.  Every centimeter of

space had been explored, every book read, every game

played.  Mulder was the king of scrabble, Scully the queen

of chess.  All two-person card games had quickly grown

old.



At Mulder's hurt look, Scully swallowed and closed her

eyes.  Get a grip, she scolded herself.  You usually love his

brilliance and energy.  Thinking back to yesterday's

discussion - childhood report card comments - Scully

remembered she'd shared "plays well with others."

Mulder had countered with "has a low tolerance for

repetition."



That's the key, Scully decided.  I have to find a way to

pull us both out of this miasma of snarkiness.  I have to

give Mulder something new and different to think about.



"Sorry," she apologized.  "I know we're both bored.  I was

thinking - I'd like to plan something special tomorrow.

Have you ever been to a slumber party?"



Mulder smirked, "You mean slumber, as in sleeping

together?  Hey, I'm your man."



She smiled back.  "No, I mean slumber party as in sleeping

on the floor in the same room, doing each other's hair and

nails, and gossiping about everyone we know.  High

school all over again.  You ready for a late night of

silliness, Agent Mulder?"



"I can do your hair and nails, Scully?  Any way I like?"

Mulder's intrigued grin lightened Scully's heart.  She

nodded.  "That's right - as long as I can do yours too."



"Okay but you've gotta promise - no photos.  I don't want

this to come back and haunt me."



At Scully's ready agreement, he continued, "What should I

do to get ready?"



"I'm setting the event for tomorrow evening at 9 p.m.  All

the staff will be gone by then - only the facility guards will

be outside.  We have a day to plan, Mulder.  I'm sure

you'll think of something to contribute."



Scully rose, picked up her journal, and headed back to her

tiny sleeping quarters.  She could almost hear the gears

turning in Mulder's head.



When Scully staggered towards the coffee machine the

next morning, she interrupted Mulder's whispered phone

conversation.  She smiled to herself.  Mulder's eager and

intense face promised an interesting evening.  When he continued

private phone calls throughout the morning, Scully's

curiosity rose to a fever pitch.  She'd planned to distract

Mulder, Scully realized, but ended up engaging herself as well.



Mulder promptly claimed a brown-wrapped package that was delivered

in the late afternoon.  He opened it, and solemnly handed Scully a

new pair of sky blue flannel pajamas.



"Clothes to suit the occasion," he murmured, then

displayed a plaid pair for himself.



"Thanks.  What else do you have?"  She leaned over to

look and spied a colourful selection of fingernail polish

and a bag of microwave popcorn. Scully smiled.  She

hadn't tasted popcorn in ages.

 

"You must have had the phone lines buzzing, Mulder,"

anticipating the evening ahead.



At 9:00 p.m. on the dot, Mulder emerged from his quarters

dragging his mattress to the centre of the room.  He held

up his hand to forestall questions, and then returned with a

shoebox and a bowl of microwaved popcorn. Scully

grabbed her makeup bag and pulled her mattress near

Mulder's.



"Hi, girlfriend," Mulder batted his eyes and called.  "Want

some popcorn?"



"You bet."



Murder's eyes lit up at the selection of mousse,

clips and scrunchies in the proffered tray.  "Can I fix your hair

first, Scully?" his eagerness evident.



"Of course."  Scully sat on her mattress and leaned back in

relaxation at Mulder's surprisingly gentle touch.  He

brushed her hair with that focused earnest expression she

knew and loved so well.



"Mmmm, Mulder, that feels great."



He quietly replied, "I used to brush Sam's hair when she

was little.  I put it in a ponytail too."



Scully didn't reply.  She was glad that - for a change -

Mulder was remembering some good times with his little

sister.  She glanced up and was intrigued to see Mulder

with his tongue unconsciously between his teeth as, with

obvious effort, he aligned Scully's locks into what felt like

the perfect ponytail.



"Thanks.  Now it's your turn."



Mulder obediently sat cross-legged on his mattress, his

back towards Scully.  She knelt up and began to brush his

hair back from his forehead.  He has beautiful hair, Scully

thought as she felt Mulder relax and subtly lean into the

brush strokes.  She grabbed two pink scrunchies and

impishly divided his locks into two small ponytails above

his head.



"Turn around Mulder, I want to look."



Mulder looked so silly that Scully laughed aloud.  He

shared her amused expression, looking more relaxed than

he had since the quarantine began.



Scully tilted her head to the side and pretended to consider.

"I declare this a new male hairstyle.  I'll call it - alien

antennado."



Mulder snorted.  "Have your fun, but I'm ready for the

next round.  See this box?  I've written the name of

everyone we know at the FBI."  Mulder pretended

seriousness, but his eyes were dancing.  "When we pull out

a name, we have to say something about them.  Then the

other person has to guess if it's true or false."



Scully grabbed a handful of popcorn.  "Great idea.  I'll go

first."



She closed her eyes, fished around the box with her hand -

and drew Holly's name.



Scully seriously intoned, "Holly - she wears size 7 shoes."



"True," Mulder crowed.  When Scully nodded, he drew

Skinner's name.



"Hmmm," he muttered, "Our illustrious A.D.  Skinner is -

ah, Skinner was wounded in Vietnam, and had a steel rod

inserted in his backbone."



Scully chuckled.  "Too right.  I thought so."



Murder's laughter shot a piece of popcorn out of his mouth.

It landed on her pajama top, and he carefully picked it off.

Scully flushed, and threw a piece at him to break the

intimate mood.  Soon they had gone through every name in

the box, making up more and more outrageous lies as the

evening progressed.  Their shared laughter was a balm to

restless souls.



Scully relaxed back onto her mattress, and closed her eyes.

Mulder settled on his own mattress.  She smiled

dreamily as she listened to Mulder share some early happy

childhood stories of beaches and barbecues, fairs and

fairytales.



When she woke the next morning, Mulder was stretched

out next to her, snoring softly.  She

glanced down - and was delighted to see her finger and

toenails painted a rainbow of colours.



It was the nineteenth day of a month-long quarantine, and

Scully felt as if Mulder had given her a gift beyond

measure - the gift of friendship, with an unspoken promise

of more to come.

 

 



END 'Party Line' by bcfan