Are you just here to mope?” Langly swung around in his chair to face Mulder.
“I’m not moping.” Mulder shot back.
“Come on, you’re doing a great Charlie Brown impression. No valentine? Why don’t you call your woman and - “
“My . . . what are you talking about?”
Langly just stared at Mulder until the dark haired man looked away. Byers was watching him too. “You’re crazy.” Mulder muttered.
“I’m crazy?” Langly leaned back. “Go over to that filing cabinet.” The blonde pointed. “Third drawer, a red folder near the back.”
Mulder glanced over at Byers, whose mouth had dropped open. Well, that made up his mind. Mulder moved to the cabinet and pulled the drawer open.
He pulled the large, overstuffed file out and opened it. Picture after picture of Scully were in front of him; casual shots, candid shots. She hadn’t known they were being taken. “See, your own little red-head girl.” Langly grinned.
“What the hell!” The two men spoke simultaneously. Mulder hadn’t seen Frohike enter the room. He did spot Langly, ducking his head and keeping quiet.
Frohike reached for the file, but Mulder drew it back. “What you doing with these?”
“I took them.”
Mulder gaped at him. “There must be seventy pictures in here.”
“Eighty-two.” Langly offered.
Both men turned to glare at him and Langly shrank back. Mulder turned away first and headed for the door. “Hey, where do you think you’re going with those?” Frohike called after him.
“They don’t belong to you.” Mulder’s arm tightened around them.
“Of course they do. I took them.”
Mulder just glared at him for a minute.
“At least I admit I think she’s hot.”
“What?” He looked at him, stunned.
“I appreciate the lady, Mulder. And I think she’s warming toward me.” Frohike leaned against the desk. “You know, I’m going to ask her out. She deserves a man who really cares about her.”
Mulder’s mouth fell open.
Frohike straightened up, staring at the younger man. “I haven’t been to Mardi Gras in two or three years. I think I’ll ask her to go with me this year.”
“You will not.” Mulder’s outrage was growing.
“Why not? You don’t own her.” Frohike countered.
“Oh yes I . . . I . . .” Mulder turned on his heel then and left their place without another word.
Langly finally faced Frohike. “I didn’t realize he was going to take them.”
Frohike sighed, “I have copies, and the negatives, stored in my room.”
“Is that why we had helped you put those stupid risers on your bed?” Langly sighed.
Frohike ignored that. “Maybe he needs them more.”
Mulder slipped his key in the office door and let himself in. He dropped the file on his desk, and collapsed into the chair behind it. After a minute he opened the file again. He couldn’t help himself. He sat going over the pictures individually, unaware of the time.
He was startled when the office door opened and Scully walked in. He immediately closed the file. She stopped to take in his demeanor. “What are you doing here?”
“I, uh, just going over some files.” He looked at her, finally. “What about you?”
“Oh, Skinner asked me to check out an autopsy.”
“This late on a Friday?”
She shrugged, “Didn’t have any other plans.”
He winced at that, but she didn’t notice. She talked like that more often since the in-vitro had failed. Did she not realize how much it hurt to hear?
She tossed her notes on the table she used and turned back to him. “Well, don’t stay too late Mulder.” She looked down at his desk and her eyes widened.
He glanced down and realized that a couple of pictures were hanging out of the file.
“What is this?” She picked up the file and opened it. She flipped through a few of the pictures, then looked up at him. “What is this?”
“Uh, some pictures that, uh - “
“Who took these? Where did you get them?”
“Look, you have custody of them, it’s okay now.”
She was looking through them again, “Frohike? Did he take these? That little pervert!”
“It’s okay, Scully.”
“Okay? What about this is okay? Damn it, Mulder, I’m here after hours on a Friday night, looking at autopsy reports, and this happens to be one of the most exciting Friday evenings I’ve had in ages. Now I find out that Frohike’s been stalking me, taking - “
“He’s not been stalking you, Scully. These were mostly taken at his apartment and mine.”
“So he’s got a spy camera on me? That’s a positive? Damn it!” She turned on her heel and headed for the door.
“Scully, wait. I’m, I’m sorry about tonight.” He was on his feet.
“What? You didn’t do - “
“I can’t, I can’t make up for, for Frohike, but what about, uh dinner tomorrow?”
“Dinner?” Her eyebrow rose, and she looked puzzled.
“Yeah, if you’re not busy.”
He nodded, afraid to say anything else. She sighed, "Mulder, it's okay. You don't have to - "
"I want to. Let's have dinner. Please?"
She looked at him for long moment, obviously trying to read what was going on with him. Finally, she nodded, even smiled a little. "Sure, okay."
"Good." He smiled then, "I'll pick you up at 6."
"Six. Okay, thanks." She wondered idly if the man realized it was Valentine's Day, then dismissed it. Obviously he didn't, but that was okay. She could still have an evening out and pretend.
She answered the knock on her door and gave Mulder an appreciative look. He was wearing her favorite suit and a tie that she had actually admired one time. The man's memory was infallible, about some things.
He stepped inside at her unspoken invitation and brought his hand from behind his back. He held a single long-stem red rose wrapped in green tissue and a small heart-shaped Mylar balloon that said "Be My Valentine". He thrust them toward her, embarrassed suddenly and obviously concerned about her reaction. He looked about twelve years old.
"Mulder, thank you." She smiled a genuine smile at him and he relaxed slightly. She took a deep breath of the rose and her smile grew. "Let me get a vase."
He watched her walk toward her kitchen. She was wearing a dress, not black, royal blue this time, and slightly shorter than she wore to the office. It had a little jacket thingy that matched, but didn’t hide any cleavage. But oh lord, she had on what could only be called 'fuck me' shoes. He swallowed hard. Damn they made her legs look good.
"Mulder?" She had returned and he had been so busy thinking about her body he hadn't . . .
"Nice shoes." He managed a smile.
Her cheeks colored slightly. "Thanks. They're not for chasing perps."
"I promise to run slowly." He grinned now and picked up her coat from the back of the couch. "We have reservations."
"Reservations?" That surprised her. She would have been content with Chinese, she'd only dressed because of the holiday.
"Yeah, real silverware, no plastic." He offered.
"Now I know you're teasing." But she allowed him to help her with her coat.
They didn't have to wait but a couple of minutes, though the place was obviously doing a lot of business. Scully surveyed the clientele; they looked as much like a couple as the others here. Too bad they weren’t.
She ordered the salmon and he got the filet, but they shared an appetizer first. It really felt like a date and she was having a very good time. She had him laughing at stories of Bill. He enjoyed hearing how the three younger siblings had ganged up on him when he’d been only the beginning pompous ass he’d become.
He had to stifle a laugh when the dessert tray was brought around. Her eyes, when she spotted the death by chocolate cake with raspberry and chocolate sauce was priceless. When she demurred, he ordered one for himself. The waiter smiled and nodded.
When they were alone again, he noticed the other couples moving slowly around the dance floor. “Scully, would you like to dance?”
She looked up surprised, “I . . . I’d love to.”
His smile made her warm. He took her hand and led her onto the floor. They danced well together, even though they had only danced once before, years ago. They moved well together, as though able to anticipate the other’s moves. Well that made sense; they’d been doing that for years.
They stayed out on the floor for three dances before returning to the table. After he seated her again, their waiter brought the large piece of cake to the table. On top of the slice was a red sugar heart.
He bit his lip to keep from laughing when she saw the cake. He took the fork and cut off a piece and brought it almost to his mouth. Her lips actually parted and he had to chuckle. “Here.” He moved the fork toward her.
“No, no it’s yours.”
“I ordered it for you, Scully. Come on, open up.”
Her eyes twinkled as she parted her lips and he slipped the piece of cake into her mouth. Her lips closed over the fork and her eyes closed to savor the taste. He swallowed hard at the sight and tensed as he felt his cock twitch.
She opened her eyes to find his eyes devouring her. Her breath caught. After a moment she forced her eyes away from him and took the fork from his hand. She cut off a piece and offered it to him.
“It’s yours Scully.” And there was that fear he might drool, just looking at her.
“Share it with me.” She brought the fork to his mouth and he welcomed it. His lips closing over the fork where hers had been.
She felt her blushing just watching him. She must be crazy. When he took the fork back from her, she carefully lifted the red heart from the piece of cake and handed it him. “Be my valentine?”
“Yeah, I’d like that.” He took it from her and started to lay it carefully on his napkin to keep from breaking it. That’s when they both realized it had been on the cake upside down. On the underside where the words, “I Love You”.
He gave her a lopsided grin. “I won’t hold you to it.” Then he fed her another piece of cake.
When the cake was gone, she looked up at him. “Mulder, I think they want this table.”
He looked around. “I’m not ready to end the evening.”
“We don’t have to. You could come to my place for coffee, or wine.”
His eyes smiled, “Okay.”
He held her chair, then escorted her to the car. They were quiet on the ride, but comfortably so. When she let him in, he took her coat. She moved toward the kitchen, “Coffee or wine?”
He shrugged, “why don’t we have the wine?”
She nodded and he hung her coat in the closet, draping his over the chair. She returned with two glasses and a bottle of red wine. He took the bottle and opened it as she sat on the couch, placing the glasses on the table.
He took his seat beside her and poured the wine. They touched glasses and she took a sip. “Mulder?”
“You haven’t explained to me why you asked me out tonight.”
“I wanted to.”
“Well, Langly said something . . . “
“Langly?” She laughed nervously.
He sighed, “He called me Charlie Brown.”
“Charlie Brown, you know, hopelessly in love with his little red-headed girl.”
That struck her dumb for a moment, then she asked, “Am I your red-headed girl?”
“You’re no little girl.”
She blinked at that.
He realized her eyes had dropped to his lips and seemed focused on them. He moved by impulse, brushing his lips against hers. She didn’t pull away, just met his eyes. He did it again and felt her lips part.
He was an observant man, an FBI agent and a psychologist. That was an invitation and he’d be damned before he would pass it up. She tasted of the wine and chocolate and, and Scully. He realized in an instant that he was hopelessly addicted to that taste.
Her hands had come up to his shoulders, but not to push him away. It was as though she was anchoring herself. His arms went around her then, pulling her closer and she came, willingly.
When he pulled back and looked at her, she looked stunned. “Will you be my red-headed woman?”
“I already am.” She looked up at him.
His eyes widened, but he didn’t speak.
“Who did I ask to father . . . “ her voice gave out then, and she bit her lip, just watching him.
Finally he nodded and took her into his arms again. Yes, she was his.
Frohike’s folder of pictures
‘That’ - first time fic