TITLE: JUST SAY YES (1/10) AUTHOR: JEYLAN EMAIL: jeylan@earthlink.net RATING: R CATEGORY: MSR SPOILERS: 'Deep Throat' TIMELINE: Early. Probably second season. ARCHIVE: *NO ARCHIVE* except by request. (Requests welcome.) SPECIAL: This story should not be understood to endorse or condone the use of illegal substances. FEEDBACK: Is fine, but any hang-ups are your own. SUMMARY: A long and weirdly unwinding night spent partying with some of Mulder's friends from Oxford. WARNINGS: This story contains elements which will not be to everyone's taste. Among these are: 1) Gay characters and situations. Mulder is an eager participant in some same-sex flirting -- but don't worry, his heart belongs to Scully. 2) Mild (not overtly sexual) experimentation with bondage. 3) Deliberate ingestion of a controlled substance for the purpose of recreation. (Don't say Mulder wouldn't - you *know* he would! ;) 4) More 80's dance tunes than anyone should realistically be expected to endure -- unless (like Mulder, Scully, and myself) that's what you danced to in university. DISCLAIMERS: A bunch of people out there seem to believe that they own Fox Mulder and Dana Scully (or pieces of them, anyway), and are therefore entitled to profit. I am not one of those people. I am not profiting. Which is fine, because money has nothing to do with why I like these guys. I don't own the music either, which is also all right. THANKS: To Brandon, Amanda, and Rae for beta-reading and suggestions, and to my British consultants, M. and Pequod. AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story was inspired by a couple of scenes in the episode "Deep Throat". It's an attempt to answer a question of Mulder's, which Scully had originally side-stepped ... Read on ... ***************************************************************** JUST SAY YES ************************************************* "HUUuu! If *you* were that stoned, what?" - Mulder, 'Deep Throat' ************************************************* BOSTON. NOVEMBER. The rimes of ice, and the packed icy lacings of evaporating snow crunched under their feet. The air had a harsh bite to it. Mulder breathed into his palms, and then clapped his hands under his armpits. Scully trudged along beside him, feeling grumpy. And short. The case they'd been investigating hadn't panned out very well. It was wrapped up now, such as it was, and earlier than expected. Scully had had enough of Boston. She was impatient to be back in Washington, where she could curl up on her own couch with a cup of tea, and not have to see Mulder's face or hear his voice for about a week. She'd settle for two days. He'd been all too attentive to that P.I. bimbo. Great gawking lame-brained excuse for a woman. Tight blouse. Just Mulder's type. What'd he care whether or not she was competent, so long as she looked like that, right? And why was this bugging her so much, anyway? Scully didn't want to think about it. But honestly it had just been nauseating, having to watch the two of them together, and listen to all Mulder's elaborate, wasted explanations, while that woman just sat there smiling vacuously, saying, 'uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh.' It had really gotten under Scully's skin, after a while. This afternoon she'd finally cracked. She'd actually suggested, right out loud in front of people, that Mulder should offer a course: 'Hey, Mulder, you can call it Paranormal and Extraterrestrial Phenomenology 101.' This remark hadn't been forgotten yet. She ground her teeth and stared at her feet as she walked, contemplating the prospect of a very long afternoon and evening in that depressing, cold hotel room. Their flight back wasn't until late tomorrow. Maybe she could catch an earlier flight. Cut her losses. This was what she got for letting Mulder drag her around the country willy-nilly on his ridiculous hunches. Served her right. When was she ever going to learn? Her temper was starting to rise again. "Hey, Scully." Mulder sounded nervous. "Hmmp." "Ah, why don't you let me take you out tonight, huh?" "Why don't you ask Chrissie instead?" "Huh? Why would I want to do that? I don't *want* to ask Chrissie, I want to ask you." "Uh-huh." "OK, stop. I can't take it anymore." He grabbed her arm, and stopped her so fast she almost slipped. She braced her feet, and glared up at him. Her best eye-to-eye challenge was made more complicated by the fact that she'd gone into rebellion against *Chrissie's* giantess stature, and had traded her pumps for flat, practical shoes with good tread. Just to be spiteful. But without her heels, Mulder towered over her, and she felt like a shrimp. Mulder was breathing kind of hard. She watched him struggle with himself. "Look," he said finally, in an exaggeratedly calm voice, "I know I did something wrong. I'm so much of an ass that I can't quite figure out what it was, but whatever it was, I'm sure I was wrong. You're right. I'm *very* sorry. And I really don't understand why Ms. Conwell is even coming into this conversation, because I've already run out of patience trying to explain things to her, and be polite to her, and now that we're shelving this case I don't want to even have to *think* about her again, all right? What I want is just to go out to a nice dinner, with my fascinating partner, and share a couple of drinks and a couple of laughs, and not have to worry about spelling out the jokes. All right?" Silently, defiantly, she continued to glare. "*All right?*" He dipped his knees, trying to get down a little closer to her level to look her in the eye. She really hated that. "I'll think about it," she said, and started walking again. "Come on, Scully!" Mulder held his palms out like a scale. "Lonely, boring, wasted evening --" he dipped the right hand down, "-- or fun evening on the town, with good conversation and good company." Left hand down. "I'll take you somewhere nice, Scully, wherever you want." "What about your friend from Oxford?" She kept her voice carefully neutral. Scully didn't want to be caught over- reacting, but still, try as she might, every time Mulder said Oxford the first face to spring to mind was always Phoebe Green. "I've been leaving messages all week," Mulder said. "He must be out of town. I'm all yours tonight, Scully, if you'll have me." He could be so infernally charming when he set his mind to it. That was the problem with Mulder. Then his cell phone rang. "Shit," he muttered, fishing it out of his pocket. "Mulder." Suddenly his face lit up. "Laurie, hi! God, I'd given up on you ... Yeah, I'm great! How're you guys doing?" Scully's mood, which had shown promise of rising, now sank promptly back into her cold shoes. She began to fume. <*Laurie?*> What was it with Boston, anyway? Next time Mulder wanted to do anything in Boston, maybe she should just say no. "Yeah ..." Mulder was saying, "yeah ..." He had that faraway look in his eye. His guard had dropped. Scully stole glances at his profile as they walked. He was handsome, and he was *not* hers. That was obvious. "God, I can't." His voice lowered. They arrived at the car, and Mulder tried to turn away and mumble so she wouldn't hear, but his voice carried clearly in the crisp air. He stood with one foot inside the open car door. "I wish I could, but I really can't. I just promised my partner I'd take her out tonight." Pause. "Yeah ... yeah ... yep ... that's the one ..." And then a hissing whisper, actually trying to shelter the phone behind his hand, "Jesus Christ, Laurie, she's already mad at me. I can't do that to her." Scully clenched her teeth. She climbed in the passenger seat, and determined to ignore him. "Laurie, come on, man, we've never even talked about this shit ..." Mulder stepped back out suddenly, and slammed the car door. She couldn't hear what he was saying. Trying hard to swallow the lump in her throat, she stared pointedly away. So this was the way it was. Stealing one involuntary glance, she saw that he was arguing. She looked away again. Mulder came up outside her window, and rapped on the glass. "He wants to talk to you," he mouthed at her. Scully opened the door a crack, and took the phone. "Hello?" she said timidly. Mulder's college buddy. Some guy named Laurie? She couldn't even begin to imagine. "Hi, there, sweetie," said a warm, cooing baritone. "Our favorite boy has fucked up again, I hear?" "Uh ... yeah." What the hell? "Well, darling, take it from me. I've known the Fox for a long, long time, and fucking up is definitely one of his very finest talents. He is superb at fucking up." Scully snorted. Despite herself, she smiled. She slid a glance at Mulder. He'd climbed in beside her, and buried his eyes in his hand. Laurie's voice warmed. "Listen, Dana, I've been out of town for the past two weeks, and just this minute walked in the door. We'd absolutely love to have you both over to dinner tonight, now please don't say no. Fox is worried that we're going to embarrass him. That's why he's afraid to invite you himself, but I promised him we would be on our very best behavior. He's told us so much about you, Dana, and it's so rare that a woman can really turn his head -- well, you know what I mean." She didn't. No, she definitely didn't. "We're just dying to meet you. Please say you'll come." "Uh ..." She stared blankly at the dashboard. At Mulder, who was definitely blushing. Back at the dash. This was way too weird to pass up. "OK." "Oh, that's just fabulous! We'll be looking forward to it. Very casual, now, nothing fancy. Shall we say six-thirty? Our place? We can have cocktails before dinner. Do you want to take down the directions, or shall I tell them to the Fox?" "Uh, go ahead and tell the, uh, Fox." "I'm *so* glad we're finally going to meet you, Dana," "Uh, yeah. Me too." Blankly, she handed back the phone. Mulder was still blushing furiously, and wouldn't look at her. ************************************************* They didn't talk again until they pulled into the hotel parking lot. "Mulder, look. Why don't you just go without me? I'm kind of tired anyway." She'd expected him to be relieved, but instead he spun around quickly. "You don't want to come?" He actually sounded hurt. "I was just starting to look forward to this! Scully, god, how do I explain? This is really awkward for me, all right? But I *do* want you to come. I mean... Shit, I don't want to make you uncomfortable, or anything..." He raked his fingers through his hair. "Look, I don't know if you're going to like my friends --" "He promised they'd behave." "Yeah, right!" Mulder chuckled, nervously. "I wouldn't count on it. But these guys *are* my friends, Scully. I mean, mostly Laurie, but Bradley'll be there tonight, too. And Jonathan. I haven't seen these guys for years! And you're my friend, Scully. And I don't have that many friends. It would mean a lot to me if..." He waved his hands in the air, and gave up. "I want you to come, all right? I just really hope you like them." "What if they don't like me?" "Sweetie, they're gonna *love* you. No question." "*Sweetie??* Mulder, what're you trying to tell me? These guys are weirder than the Gunmen?" His face contorted in a funny spasm that might have been aiming for a smile. "I guess you might think so." "OK, you're on. This I gotta see. *Sweetie.*" ************************************************* Back at the hotel, Scully had had time to calm down, and then time to panic again, trying to figure out what to wear. Laurie had specified 'casual', and after all, if these were Mulder's friends, how un-casual could it be? But warning bells were going off in her head all over the place, for some reason. The only thing that saved her was the fact that, since they were on the road, her choices of wardrobe were severely limited. Her biggest decision was between wool slacks or jeans, and between flats or pumps. She finally settled on black jeans, heeled pumps, and a teal pullover. Think tall. Casual, but tall. At five-thirty, Mulder knocked at her door. "Ready?" He looked a little subdued. "I'll get my coat." Outside the hotel, Scully's feet turned automatically towards the parking lot, and Mulder took her by the elbow, steering her away. "Uh, I think we should probably take the 'T'," he said. "Why?" He shrugged. "Won't have to drive home on icy streets." "Are we going to be drinking, Mulder? These are your beer buddies?" "M' mates," he said. "They're m'best mates." And he set off towards the station down the block. He didn't let go of her elbow. ************************************************* It was actually kind of fun to ride the 'T'. Not their usual sort of adventure. Being out in the city on foot like this made it seem more like they were really off duty, and definitely not planning to race off anywhere in the car. Mulder opened his wool coat after the train started, and she saw that he also was dressed in jeans. She'd chosen right. Black turtle-neck, black jeans, dress shoes, grey wool coat, and the woman across the aisle was staring at him. Mulder seemed oblivious, so Scully glared at the woman until she looked away. They didn't talk much on the train. Red Line to Downtown Crossing, then they changed to the Orange Line. They got off at the edge of Charlestown, the oldest part of the city. "The address is up that way," Mulder pointed with his head, and started pulling her in the opposite direction. "Then where are we going?" "The nearest pub." ************************************************* Scully perched on the high wooden stool at a counter by the wall, and tried to take it all in. Cute little Irish pub, with lots of old hardwood, brass fixtures, and rough brick walls. Really a charming place. And Mulder, who was standing at the end of the bar ordering pints of beer, was nervous as a cat. What the hell was going on, anyway? He put the cold mug down in front of her, and sat. His knees splayed out as he hiked up his heels on the rungs. "Cheers," he said, dully. "OK, Mulder, are we meeting your friends here?" "No, no." He waved his hand dismissively. "We're early. Their flat's just around the corner. We've got plenty of time." "Their flat," Scully repeated levelly. "OK." She watched the way he wasn't quite meeting her eyes. "Why don't you just fill me in?" He took a deep breath. "OK." Then he swallowed some more beer, in a long, deep guzzle. She could see his Adam's apple working, and the way the muscles in his throat contracted rhythmically as the beer went down. She made herself look away, and lift up her pint. He sighed. "What'd'ya want to know? Laurie, ah, Laurence, is probably my oldest friend, except I hardly ever get to see him. He's a brilliant psychologist, who does a lot of work with hypnotic regression, and ... well, you'll like him. I hope." "Is he British? He didn't sound British on the phone." "No, no, he's American. He started at Oxford the same time I did, and then ... he fell in love, and he stayed." Mulder shrugged. "Jonathan's the Brit. He's cool. He's an English Literature professor, at Cambridge usually, but this year he's at Harvard on an academic exchange. And Bradley's in town from New York. He, uh, he has his own business." "Doing?" "Varies," Mulder muttered, and drank more beer. And then after a moment, he said, "Scully, what were you like when you were in school? I mean, you've changed a lot since university, right?" The color rose up fast in her cheeks, she could feel it. "You could say that, yeah." Her voice came out sounding testier than she intended, and Mulder snorted into his beer. "Good," he said. "Me too. So just remember that when you meet these guys, huh?" He was already more than halfway through his pint. Suddenly he looked right in her eyes, and said, "This is part of my real life, OK? It's a part I want to share with you. I know you were pretty mad at me today, and I'm glad you seem to have forgiven me," his fingers whitened around his mug, "but I really hope you're not gonna freak out about ... anything. Not tonight." Scully couldn't decide what to make of it. It was weird for Mulder to be this serious. "You can yell at me tomorrow if you want," he offered, wistfully. "God, Mulder, what's wrong with them? Are these guys psychos, or what?" Her attempt at a joke came out all wrong. "Bloody hell," Mulder groaned, "Am I ever fucking this up!" Scully blinked in surprise. "*No,* they are not psychos!" Mulder got to his feet. "They're a hell of a lot more normal than I am, if you want to know the truth. Let's just go before I dig myself in deeper." He drank down the last third of his beer in one long drought. Scully stood up too, leaving her pint almost untouched on the counter. Mulder reached a long arm over her shoulder and snagged it. He drank some off, and then set the mug back down half-full. "OK, let's go," he said. Out in the narrow, dark, and icy street, Scully finally found her voice. "Hey, lighten up," she said. "I remember what it was like. You'd probably laugh your head off if you ever met some of the people *I* used to hang out with in university. You wouldn't believe it." she thought. She heard him sigh. "Good," he said softly. "I'm glad you understand." He rested his hand lightly on her back. "Just remember, I love these guys, but you're my best friend. And you know me at least as well as they do. Better, probably." "Well, that's good to know," she snapped. Mulder groaned again. ************************************************* The apartment was located up a dim, crooked street. The kind of street that made you feel you were in Europe somewhere, instead of mainstream America. Standing at the door, Scully felt nervous. And because she felt nervous, that made her more irritated. Mulder gave her a fast, tense smile and squeezed her shoulder. Then he knocked. From the other side of the door there was a whoop, and the door opened. Standing inside, smiling at them pleasantly and blinking his enormous, dark, almond-shaped eyes, was an exquisite vision of a boy, with fragile flawless pale skin, and golden hair falling in gleaming silky waves all the way down his back. "Please come in," he said, in a voice like heavy cream. Scully glanced very fast at Mulder, but he wasn't paying any attention. He was looking over the boy's shoulder. "Laurie!" He grinned, and stepped through the door. Scully followed. A man who must be Laurie was rushing toward them, grinning ear to ear and shrieking. He was trying to pull an apron off over his head and wipe his hands on it at the same time. As soon as he got it off he tossed it at a side table, and lunged at Mulder. Or maybe they lunged at each other; Scully wasn't sure. She realized with a shock that he had slipped his hands right inside Mulder's coat, and was hugging and caressing Mulder's back in a very familiar manner underneath the heavy wool. His head was hunched down to nestle into Mulder's shoulder, and his eyes were squeezed shut. Tall. He was taller than Mulder. Black hair, and a neatly trimmed pointy little beard. Diamond earrings. "Fox, Fox, god it's so good to see you! Let me look at you!" Laurie shoved Mulder away just far enough to see his face. "Goddamit, boy, you look good enough to eat!" And then he kissed him. Hard. On the mouth. Scully stood frozen, a few steps inside the door. Mulder, strangely enough, was laughing. "Down, boy! Down!" He tousled his fingers affectionately through Laurie's hair. "I want you to meet my partner," he said. Scully was still frozen. Open-mouthed. Laurie disentangled himself from Mulder, and turned to her. His eyes were sparkling, looking right into her eyes, and his smile was warm. "Dana honey," he said, warmly. "I'm so glad you decided to come." And he hugged her. A real hug. His shirt was drapey grey silk, sensuous and softer than skin against her face. And he smelled of expensive cologne. "I'm happy to be here," she stammered. Her brain had gone on auto-pilot. "Where's Jonathan?" Mulder's voice was asking. Laurie let Scully go. "He and Bradley went out for a walk to pick up some, mm, *refreshments*. They should be back any minute. And this is Justine -- Er, ah, that is, Justin." Mulder shook hands with the boy. "Nice to meet you." Scully noticed that he didn't seem surprised. Scully was surprised. Justin was possibly the most beautiful human being she had ever seen close up. While she watched, he rose up gracefully onto his toes, and kissed Mulder chastely on the cheek. Then he turned to her. "And it's nice to meet you, Dana," he said, and kissed her with very soft lips. His eyes were shining. "What can I get you to drink?" Justin looked about eighteen. She hoped he was eighteen. ************************************************* ... end of part 1