Title: Widely Understood Definition of the Term Author: Vickie Moseley Summary: Post Ep for Chimera and an explanation of a comment Mulder made in passing. Category: V, MSR Rating: a polite PG Disclaimer: It was going on all the time behind your back, Chrissie boy. That's OK. You aren't the first 'parent' to find out the kids were upstairs studying 'anatomy' when they said they were studying geometry. But you go ahead and rationalize it all you want and I won't infringe on the copyright. Author's Note: I finished it!! I can't believe I actually got something finished!! It's only four pages, but I got to type 'the end'! So this is dedicated to Mulder's Refuge and everyone there. You guys have no idea what you mean to me. Comments to vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com Widely Understood Definition of the Term By Vickie Moseley Reagan International Airport Washington, DC 5:42 pm Mulder stretched before pulling his briefcase from the overhead compartment. Being careful not to bump into the elderly woman trying to negotiate her bag on wheels through the narrow aisle, he slowly made his way off the airplane. He didn't even bother to look around for any greeters. He'd driven himself to the airport and, if Scully was true to her word, the only person who might have met him was now six hours into her hibernation until 'spring'. He smiled as he picked his way through the concourse of Reagan International and toward the bus stop for the tram to take him to long-term parking. The dry cleaner was on the way home, so he made the executive decision to drop his suit off immediately. With luck, they could do something about the recent unexpected washing it had taken in the Adderly's bathtub. Once at the counter, he opened his overnight bag and pulled out the white trash can liner that contained his still dripping light charcoal Armani. Mrs. Averman, the owner's wife, clucked at him and made a sour face then pulled the jacket and pants out of the bag. "Blood stains?" she asked with disgust. "Not this time. Just water," he replied meekly. "For once," she sighed and deposited the clothing into a tub, turning back to the counter to write out his ticket. Mulder grabbed the slip of paper and headed out the door. "Oh, wait." He stopped just short of the door and turned back. "I got grass stain out of slacks," Mrs. Averman grinned. She ran the carousel of hangers around to an arbitrary point and snatched a garment bag off the rack. "You take to her?" Mulder smiled when he saw Scully's dress slacks that went to her beige suit. He'd been begging her to wear something 'not black' for months and was overjoyed when Maggie had bought the suit for Scully's birthday. But the first time she'd worn it on a case, she'd tackled a suspect in a city park and marred both knees with grass stains. "They look great! How much do I owe you?" Mulder asked, happily withdrawing his wallet. "No charge. I like her. You make nice to her, she marry you someday," Mrs. Averman said in her Romanian accented English. Mulder just smirked and shook his head. The deli on the corner of 14th and M was having a sale on Gouda cheese. It was a rash decision, but Mulder knew Scully was a push over when it came to Gouda so he pulled up to the curb and ran inside. The bottle of merlot that went in the bag was more than just an afterthought. She told him once that the wine might counteract all the cholesterol he stubbornly consumed despite her dire warnings. Two doors down, the green grocer had some of the season's first strawberries on a table outside his door. Mulder picked up a quart of them, checking for bruises and any sign of mold. One fuzzy gray berry at the bottom of the tray meant the whole lot would end up in the dumpster and at $3.99 a quart, he wasn't about to let that happen. As he crossed Rock Creek and stopped at the light, a young woman selling daisy's caught his eye. He motioned her over to the car window and asked the price. He balked at her answer. Even so, he found himself pulling out his wallet and handing over a five-dollar bill for 10 flowers. "At fifty cents a pop, these things better not wilt before I get them home," he grumbled while waiting for the next green light. He turned up Wisconsin and absently glanced at the shoppers going into and out of the trendy little shops there. The restaurant he'd noticed going in was finally open. He made a mental note of the special on the board in the window. Maybe tomorrow night. Maybe he would save it for the next weekend. Finding the right side street, he drove under a tree- lined bower that was just beginning to show green leaves. The city was dressing for spring. He'd spent over twelve years in the area and never really appreciated how pretty it was in springtime. When a parking space appeared out of nowhere, just where he wanted it, he couldn't get the smile to off his face. It took some juggling, with his briefcase, suitcase, her slacks, the wine, cheese, strawberries and flowers, but he made it as far as the door. At that moment he realized his mistake. Putting down the briefcase and suitcase, he fumbled one handed for his key and got it into the lock. Gathering everything back up in his arms, he headed up the stairs. He was just about to fumble again for the keys when the door to the apartment swung open. Scully was leaning against the doorway. He smiled when he saw that she was dressed only in one of his white dress shirts rolled at the sleeves and stood deliciously barefoot. She didn't move to help him with his packages at all, just stepped aside to let him in. "How was the flight?" "Turbulence over Boston. Not bad. Sorry I had to cut out on you on the stakeout." "That's OK. You owe me so big for it you're never going to get out of debt. Hey, are those my beige slacks?" "Mrs. Averman got the grass stains out." "Oh wow! I hope you tipped her!" "How about tipping me?" he suggested. Now that his arms were finally free he pulled her to him in a bear hug that was topped off by a kiss to the crown of her head. "That appears to be the last clean shirt I had in the closet, copper," he growled in her ear. "You weren't wearing it. I was cold," she mumbled into his chest. "You have clothes," he pointed out, but his voice was light and teasing. "When we're home, you like to take my clothes off me. I wanted to see what you would do if I had on your clothes." She pulled out of his arms and started looking through the bags on the counter. "Mulder, what is all this? Gouda? Strawberries? Flowers?" He leaned against the table and loosened his tie. "I was hoping to get lucky," he said with a wink. She smirked at him and then reached over to encircle his waist with her arms. "You were on your way to 'getting lucky' sooner if you hadn't made so many stops." "You don't like?" he asked, pulling back to see her face shine up at his. "I like you, but the strawberries are a nice touch." She let her arms drop and headed out of the kitchen. "Grab them and the wine and meet me in the bedroom." He reached for the carton and the bottle and started after her. "Oh, and Mulder," she tossed over her shoulder. "Yeah, Scully." "Lose the clothes." "Yes ma'am." As he sauntered down the hallway, anticipating the moments just ahead, Ellen Adderly's question resounded in his mind. Did he have a significant other? Not in the widely understood definition of the term. The end.