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JUST SAY YES   (10/10) 
jeylan@earthlink.net  
This story is rated R  -- See part 1 for headers and warnings.
*NO ARCHIVE* except by request.
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Raiding the kitchen was one thing, but Mulder's idea of a 
midnight snack was something else again.  After storming around 
ransacking cupboards, muttering, "crisps, crisps," like a madman, 
during which time Scully mostly just tried to stay out of his 
way, Mulder suddenly seized on a jar of prepared spaghetti sauce 
and waved it triumphantly.  "Aha!"

"Spaghetti?  You're going to cook spaghetti?"  She stared at him 
blankly.

"Sure.  Why not?  There's gotta be a frying pan around here 
someplace."  He started on the drawers, and lower cabinets.

"You're going to cook spaghetti in a frying pan?"

"Well, yeah.  How do you cook spaghetti?"

She tipped her head, and looked at him sideways.  Then a little 
more sideways.  "Don't you want to start with a pan of water, 
Mulder?"

"Huh?  Water?  You don't start with water, you just --"  

"You're cooking spaghetti?" put in Jonathan, curiously.  He'd 
come from the living room, and was standing in the door.  

"I was thinking of it.  Where do you keep the crisps around here, 
anyway?"

"Crisps?" Scully said again.  She'd been saying it for a while, 
but Mulder hadn't noticed yet.  He finally heard her.  

"Chips to you," he said.

"No crisps.  Diet, you know."  Jonathan patted his stomach.  
"Minding our trim figures."  

Mulder snorted.  

"Ah, bugger all.  How about some egg and chips?"

"I could probably manage egg and chips --"  Mulder's voice rose 
excitedly, and he turned back to banging drawers.  "Where do you 
keep the basket thing?  You've got potatoes, right?"

"Oh, Lord, let's not have any hot oil, tonight, please!"  It was 
Laurie, pushing past Jonathan into the room.  "Sweetheart, what 
are you trying to do, putting him up to egg and chips?  We'll 
have cheese and crackers.  Almost as fattening, and considerably 
safer."

Jonathan shrugged apologetically at Mulder.

"Shall we have a demitasse?" asked Laurie.

"No, no," Jonathan said.  "I'll fix us some cocoa."

"But egg and chips sounded good," Mulder was protesting.  "I 
can't even remember the last time I had egg and chips."

"No egg and chips," Laurie repeated firmly.  He was already 
setting a stick of salami and a hunk of cheese out onto the 
table.  "Somebody get us some plates, please.  Oouu!  Darlings, 
we forgot about the pudding!  Look what I found -- there's a 
trifle in here!"

"Trifle?  Trifle?"  Mulder was stopped in his tracks, and his 
head came up.  He was frozen, seeming to sniff out the scent, 
with the jar of spaghetti sauce in one hand and a wire basket in 
the other.  

"I thought that might get your attention," Laurie laughed.  "Fox, 
darling, we'll let you be in charge of whipping the cream.  You 
do know how to whip cream, don't you?"  Laurie put a small carton 
into Scully's hand, because she was closest.  "There's an egg 
beater in the silverware drawer.  Dana, sweetheart, can you help 
him, please?"

Mulder got the egg beater in his hand, and then stood there 
looking at it curiously.  "This is really cool," he said, turning 
the crank.

"Oh, I know, I know.  Isn't it dreadful?  But there's really just 
no sense in buying appliances for 110, when we're only here for a 
year.  We've been living like savages."

Mulder was still turning the crank, and his eyes were starting to 
glaze.  Scully took the egg beater away from him.  "Come on, *Fox 
darling*," she said.  "We're whipping cream."  

They took turns at it, while Jonathan heated milk for cocoa, and 
Laurie arranged beautiful plates of crackers and sliced cheese 
and salami.  

It was fun to whip cream, to make it move like a dream of waves, 
swirling hypnotically.  When it was Scully's turn again, she 
found herself moving the beater slowly from place to place around 
the edges of the bowl.  Mulder hadn't remembered to do that.  
He'd just gone at it with a sheer attack of energy, beating all 
in one place.  But Scully always liked to have a system.  

Whir, whir, whir.  Her arm was aching.  Cream folding.  Swirling 
and swirling, getting thicker.  Around and around, folding in, 
petaling like a camera shutter.  Mulder was holding the bowl 
steady so she had something to push against.  She alternated 
crosswise for variety, like torquing the lugs on a tire -- whir, 
whir in this spot.  Whir, whir in that spot.  She'd forgotten 
this about hand-held beaters, how hard you had to push against 
the bowl. 

She wanted to lift it up, to see the cream make a whirling 
mountain, and she tried to lift and --  Oops.  

Scully stopped beating, and looked sheepishly up at Mulder.  He'd 
been hanging his big nose over the bowl, hypnotized, and she'd 
splattered him wildly with cream.  She bit her lip.  Mulder 
blinked.  He licked his creamy lips, slowly.  

"Are you going to clean me off, Agent Scully?" he murmured, in a 
bedroom voice.  Then he leaned closer, and closed his eyes.

She let go of the egg-beater, took his head between her hands, 
and shyly, carefully, she began to kiss away the cream.  Scully 
was aware of the other men in the room, aware of the intimacy and 
territoriality of what she was doing with Mulder.  His skin 
tasted salty and Muldery under the cream, and the stubble of his 
beard was rough against her tongue.  He made a soft, happy noise 
deep in his throat.

And that very softest of sounds pierced right into her heart, 
opening a wound so deep she was afraid it might never heal.  And 
it hurt.  It was actually a physical pain in her body.  To hear 
from Mulder this quiet, gently contented, wordless low murmur of 
satisfaction made her want to wrap her arms around him, and hold 
him tight forever.  Or else sit down and cry.

Then Laurie finished arranging the plates, and at about the same 
time Bradley and Justin drifted in from the living room.  In a 
companionable group they all ate cheese and salami together -- 
the best cheese and salami ever tasted in the history of the 
world.  

Scully felt her feet begin to reconnect with the ground again as 
she ate.  The topic of conversation was shifting erratically, 
from E.B.E.'s to haute couture, to playful teasing, off-color 
jokes, and reminiscences of college escapades.  Scully was only 
half listening.  She was beginning to notice her hands again, and 
how her hands kept happening to stray to Mulder's thighs, and how 
no one seemed to mind.  Mulder certainly didn't seem to mind. 

She set her hand on Mulder's knee, and Bradley watched her do it.  
An acknowledgement passed unspoken between them. 

Then she noticed Justin's voice, saying, "... but if you can't 
prove it, how do you *know*...?"

"Well, uh --" Mulder started, glancing sideways at Scully.

Bradley interrupted.  "Those are two different things, Jussie, 
proof and knowing.  The proof is just the stuff on the surface."  
He looked directly into Scully's eyes, as if for confirmation.  
"Right?  The proof is just the window display."  

Without intending to, she felt herself nodding.

Jonathan and Laurie both sputtered their cocoa, and Mulder 
guffawed loudly. 

"Hey!" Bradley complained, laughing, "Just 'cause I don't feel a 
need to dedicate my life to meditating around inside my belly-
button like you head-shrinker-literary types...!"

"Ah, but that's why you love us!" Jonathan laughed, and Mulder, 
also laughing, said, "Where would you be, without us, Brad?" 

"Paris!" Bradley said.  "Fox, it was on *your* account I came 
back to this country, you know!"

"Sorry," Mulder mumbled, blushing slightly and grinning a giggly 
grin.

While they all laughed, Scully's eyes were drawn back in 
fascination to Mulder's long, lean thighs, to the hair on his 
arms, and the way his huge, graceful hands gripped a cracker.  
Then back to his thighs again, his hips, his ass on the chair.  
Totally perplexing to stop and think that she could just reach 
out like this, right in front of everyone like this, and slide 
her hand over his thigh, or even slip her hand right down between 
his legs.  

Well, maybe not too deep between his legs!  He looked at her in 
surprise, and his eyes flashed hot.  Happy.  And she smiled 
despite herself, even as she moved her hand back to safer 
territory.  And as she did, her gaze fell on his lap, and she 
couldn't tear her eyes away.  

Mulder was aroused.  He shifted his knees further apart, to give 
her a good look.  And she let him see her looking.  She didn't 
care who noticed; they were with friends.

Mulder was planning to make love to her tonight.

Her breath came faster.  The painful excitement wound tighter in 
her chest.  She was coming back to earth.  And she was still 
touching him.  And it was all right.  It was going to be all 
right.

"But how do you *know*?" Justin still wanted to know.  His voice 
cut through the others'.  All eyes turned to Mulder, expectantly.  

"Sometimes, in our line of work, you don't," Mulder answered, 
absently reaching for Scully's hand.  "Sometimes, *most* of the 
time, there isn't any proof, *all* the answers are ambiguous, and 
the only thing you can do is just take your best guess."

Mulder's and Justin's made-up eyes met and locked across the 
table.  

Slowly, Justin nodded.  "OK," he said. "Ambiguity.  That's cool."

"Which is precisely why I'm so glad it's *your* job, and not 
mine!" Bradley said.

"Well, Brad, darling, we can't all be so lucky as to find our 
true callings the way you did!" Mulder shot back.

"You bitch!"  Bradley laughed, and swatted Mulder good-naturedly 
with the back of his hand.

"Ouu, baby, you *know* it makes me hot when you talk like that!"  
Mulder grated the words out, smirking and blushing.  His fingers 
were still laced with Scully's, and he was pressing the back of 
her hand against the warm crease of his hip.
 
"But have you ever seen one?  I mean with your own eyes?"  Justin 
interrupted. 

"Have I seen an E.B.E.?" Mulder asked.

"An alien, yeah.  Have you?"

"Well, I suppose you could say that everything I've seen is 
subject to interpretation."  Mulder looked at Scully.  

She looked back, looked into his eyes past all the makeup, 
smudged eye-liner, and gloppy mascara, and she could very clearly 
see his soul looking out. 

Squeezing his hand, her heart felt very full.  It wasn't Bradley, 
or Laurie, or Jonathan, sitting next to Mulder, holding his hand 
and sharing the burden of this mixed-up mixed blessing quest of 
his.  It was her.  And she was the only one at the table who 
really knew what he was talking about.  And that thought made her 
ache, and turned her on.

With her free hand, she rescued one last crumbled fragment of 
cheese off the hors d'oeuvre plate as Jonathan cleared it away. 

Then Laurie set the trifle in the center of the table with a 
flourish.  Scully had never seen anything quite like it.  It was 
in a huge glass bowl, red jello at the bottom with chunks of cake 
in it, and strawberries, and then a thick yellow custard on top. 
It was a beautiful dish.  Laurie served with two spoons, digging 
down deep, and finishing each serving with a big dollop of 
whipped cream.  

It was heaven.  Trifle heaven.  The cakey bits were soaked in a 
sweet liqueur.  The jello was cold and wiggly on her tongue, and 
the custard tasted as good as being a kid again.  Scully closed 
her eyes, and appreciated the custard.  Mulder kissed her while 
her eyes were closed, passing a chunk of jello unexpectedly from 
his mouth into hers, and she slurped at it.  Sucked his tongue.  
Lost track of the rest of the world, for a moment. 

"Mmmm," she said, and swallowed Mulder's jello, and pulled away.  
She smiled.  It was so easy to smile, tonight.  

But nevertheless, Scully was definitely coming down, definitely 
rejoining the ranks of the sober.  Well, not quite sober yet, but 
getting there.  Getting close enough that the idea of sobriety 
was starting to make sense again.  She was starting to imagine 
that there might be a time -- oh, say, tomorrow afternoon, maybe 
-- when the world would be all solid and predictable again.  When 
things would have their surfaces back, and the glow would go 
away, and everything would stop trying to jump out of its skin.

She followed Mulder's face with her eyes, as he turned to say 
something to Bradley.  She watched him as he laughed.  It was 
good to see him laugh.  Good to see him with his friends.

It was good to take this ... time out.  This ... what *was* this?  
What were they doing?  What did this strangest of all strange 
nights *mean*?  And the moment she questioned it, into her mind 
rushed the question of tomorrow.  And next week.  And work.

And all the unavoidable potentials for things, the moments which 
she knew were certainly coming when Mulder would throw himself in 
over his head into some as yet unsuspected obsession, some newly 
invented danger, some irreversible experience of soul -- and 
every time, as he put himself out there, he would be dragging 
part of her heart along too.

Abruptly self-conscious, she took her hand off his leg, where it 
had strayed again after she cleaned her plate of trifle.  And 
instantly, when she took her hand away, the energy between them 
changed, and just a little of the sparkle went out of Mulder's 
eyes.  She saw it happen.  She saw him start to wilt, to cringe, 
to pull back in on himself, into whatever melancholy place he 
customarily inhabited.  He was still smiling, but he was further 
removed.

She tried patting his thigh again, reassuringly, but Mulder only 
looked at her sideways, with nervous, baleful eyes.  And suddenly 
it was all there between them again, like a gaping void:  Real 
life.  Awkwardness.  Uncertainty.  Fear.

The mood was broken.  A chill came over her. 

Fuck this!  Did it have to be like this?  

While they were all clearing the table, Scully gathered up her 
courage, and bumped Mulder with her hip, deliberately playful.  
For just one second, his eyes shone.  And then he froze up again.  
Pulled back.  Smiled a tight, careful smile.

And Scully felt a gripping in her guts, a sinking, a 
helplessness.  She turned away from everyone, braced the heels of 
her hands against the edge of the counter, and drew several slow, 
deep breaths.  She felt sick.  

"Hey," she heard Mulder's voice several moments later, as if from 
far away.  Her eyes were squeezed tight shut.  "Hey, hey," his 
hand was suddenly hot on the back of her neck, sliding under her 
hair.  She opened her eyes.

"Why don't you drink some water, huh?"  He was offering a glass 
of ice-water.  "It'll help with the cotton-mouth."  His voice 
sounded kind of worried and lost and apologetic, like a little 
boy trying to help.  Mulder, in his own way, wanted to take care 
of her.  

Mulder, who got her in more trouble than anybody.  

And god help her, she loved him for it.  Feeling weak at the 
knees, she turned a little, almost stumbling, and ducked her face 
into the hollow of his shoulder.  He put one arm around her 
awkwardly, and patted her hair.  

And she knew with an anguished, unlooked-for, soul-rattling 
certainty, that she would rather be IN trouble with Mulder than 
out of trouble, alone.

"Hey, 'sokay," he murmured sadly, "drink some water, huh?"

Scully took a deep breath, lifted her head, accepted the glass of 
water, and drank.


*************************************************

The apartment was dim and quiet.  The stereo was off.  Outside 
the cold windows, a new snow was falling.  Bradley and Justin had 
gone home.  Mulder had been kissed, and so had Scully.  In fact, 
Scully had stood docilely and let herself be kissed, and had even 
put her arms around Bradley and kissed him back.  She'd come to 
the realization that she actually kind of liked Bradley.  

But she was more sorry to say goodbye to Justin.  Justin she'd 
held close and long, hugging him tight, and she'd kissed him on 
the lips, and pressed her face into his hair.  He was still 
wearing her bra, when he walked out the door; she had been 
reminded of it when she hugged him.  But in front of everybody, 
in the middle of goodbyes, hadn't seem like a good time to ask 
for it back.  So she'd just kissed him again, and whispered, 
"thank you" in his ear.

And now the party was over, and morning was coming.  Mulder and 
Laurie had made the couch out into a bed, spreading it with clean 
sheets, and a heavy blanket.  Scully was sitting cross-legged in 
the middle of it, dressed only in her T-shirt and panties.  

Jonathan had already said goodnight, kissed her on the cheek, and 
gone to bed.  Mulder was in the bathroom.  

Laurie was sitting sideways on the edge of the hide-a-bed beside 
her, with his hand on her bare leg.  "Now, is there anything else 
I can get you, dear?  Are you sure you're quite comfortable?" 

"No, nothing," she murmured.  "I'm fine.  We'll be fine."

Laurie's eyes slipped quickly towards the hallway, in the 
direction of the bathroom, and Mulder.  He seemed about to say 
something, but caught himself.  Then he kissed her on the 
forehead instead.  "We're so very happy to know you, Dana.  You 
mean the world to him, you know."

Moving at the same instant, by the same impulse, they hugged, and 
Scully felt a lump of tears gathering up in her throat.  She 
clutched Laurie tight.  'I'm scared,' she wanted to whisper.  But 
she didn't.
 
'Don't be scared,' he wanted to whisper back, but he couldn't.

"Dana, sweetie," he said instead, finally pulling away enough to 
look at her.  "You know, sometimes I think that the moment when 
you know it's really love is when it hurts.  Do you know what I 
mean?"

She couldn't meet his eyes.  Blinking and nodding, dumbly, she 
just sat motionless and stared at her knees.  Laurie took her 
hands in his, and squeezed them.  "Don't worry so much about it, 
my dear.  Just -- trust it.  Trust him.  Trust yourself."

She nodded.

"Ah, well."  With one last, affectionate pat, Laurie stood up.  
"Sweet dreams, Dana."  And he went down the hall and left her 
alone.

She looked wistfully around the darkened room.  Everything looked 
so different to her now, so unlike the unfriendly place it had 
seemed at first.  Now it felt almost like home.  In a life too 
full of rooms without memories, this room was already clogged 
with them, filled to overflowing.  Memories enough to keep her 
warm for many nights to come ... if she needed memories...

Her heart raced, and the butterflies in her stomach made her feel 
a little queasy.

"Mind if I climb in?" Mulder's voice asked quietly beside her. 

She jumped.  Then nodded assent.  Slowly lifting her eyes to look 
up at him, she almost forgot to breathe.

He'd washed off all the makeup, and was her own Mulder again.  No 
longer so exotic, but more beloved.  Just Mulder himself, clean 
and sweet smelling and real.  His hair was damp, and his eyes, 
resting in hers, were soft and familiar. 

Was he still planning to make love to her, tonight?

"Is it all right if I, ah ..."  He made a motion to unbutton his 
jeans.

Scully nodded, slowly.  "I think that would be a good idea," she 
said, trying to smile.  Her voice came out sounding tight.

Mulder made a choking noise that might have been intended as a 
laugh.  Very deliberately, without breaking eye contact, he began 
to unbutton his fly.  

Scully sucked on her lip.  Waited.  Mulder stripped gracefully 
out of his jeans, and folded them, setting them on the floor.  
Then he put one knee on the bed beside her.  

And this might be the moment of no return.  They both knew it.

And something unspoken passed between them in the flicker of an 
eye.  Some nervousness, or warning, or dismay.  So smoothly that 
no one else would ever have noticed, Mulder's trajectory changed.  
He just climbed in beside her, and settled in to prepare for 
sleep.  And Scully's heart sank. 

"So you like my friends," Mulder said.

"You know I do.  Mulder, why couldn't you just tell me?"

"What, that they're gay?"  

She nodded again. 

"Ah, hell, Scully.  What was I supposed to say?  'Some of my best 
friends are gay, but don't worry, because I'm not'?"  His tone 
was sour.  

She laid back down in the bed beside him, sliding her legs 
luxuriously under the covers and propping herself up on one elbow 
to look at him.  She felt very daring, and also very scared, and 
her hands and feet were clammy.  For all the times they'd 
traveled together, this was the first time they'd shared a bed.  
There was a delicious feeling of intimacy and rightness about it, 
and at the same time a lurching, plunging, down-hill thrill like 
a roller coaster ride.  An exhilarating, unavoidable "what-if?"  

What if he touched?/ she touched?/ they touched?  What if they 
touched?  Skin.  Skin was only skin.  Sex.  Nothing more than 
sex.  Nothing out of the ordinary, in the surfaces of things.  
Not in any way that anyone could see, or prove.  But making love 
to Mulder would mean more than that, and run deeper.  And she 
knew it.  There'd never been any doubt.  

She didn't say anything, just looked at him, and drank him in.  
Her heart was pounding very fast, and she didn't trust her voice.  
Mulder, noticing her silence, turned to look at her face.  A 
question waited quietly in his eyes.

Scully opened her mouth, not knowing what she was planning to 
say, and --

"Knock, knock!  Darlings, are you decent?  Sorry to disturb you, 
my dears!  Just dropping off some party favors!  I'm not looking!  
My eyes are closed!"  Laurie scurried in loudly, dressed in a 
floor length purple satin robe embroidered with black lilies.  
One hand covered his eyes, and the other waved an accordion pleat 
string of red condoms high in the air.  He was peeking between 
his fingers.  

Tossing the condoms on the bed between them, he bent to kiss 
Mulder swiftly on the cheek.  "I'm going, I'm going!  No need to 
say another word!"  He was gone again before either of them could 
say anything at all.

And the room was quiet again.  Suddenly quieter than it had been 
before.  Shadowy and silent.

Mulder cleared his throat.  "Ah, sorry for that," he said at 
last.  

"No," Scully shook her head, feeling dazed.  "No."  She was still 
high.  Not stoned, but high.  Absently, she picked up the 
condoms, and looked at them.  Strawberry flavored.  She ran her 
thumbnail against the serrated edge of the wrapper. 

And very slowly she looked up at Mulder, with her heart in her 
throat.  

"I don't know what to say," Mulder said, still trying to 
apologize.

Scully clutched the condoms into her sweaty palm.  Timidly, 
eagerly, she looked up into his eyes, knowing it was forever.

And in a very tiny, hopeful voice she whispered, "Just say yes?" 



*** FINIS ****************************************


          "All sex is the same ... The beauty you're born with 
          doesn't count.  The only thing that counts is the 
          beauty you *make*."  -- from the film, "Naked Tango"

     Or, as the drag queen said:  
     "Darlings, we are all born naked, and the rest is drag!"



*************************************************

THE FACTS:  The facts about marijuana, mentioned by Scully in 
Section 8, do not in any way represent the personal opinion of 
the author.  My primary source for factual information was 
Dr. Andrew Weil, whose insights also provided the basis for the 
opinion expressed by Mulder regarding mind-altering drugs. 

SOURCES:  For Weil, in addition to his website, see, "The Natural 
Mind" (1973), and "Chocolate to Morphine" (1983).  See also, 
"Marijuana Myths, Marijuana Facts," (1997) by Zimmer and Morgan.  
The "recent medical journal" Scully refers to is the British 
"Lancet," 346:1241 (1995).

-------

OK, here's a complete playlist, in order:

Walk Like an Egyptian, by the Bangles; Missionary Man, by the 
Eurythmics; Tainted Love, by Soft Cell; Can't Hurry Love, by the 
Supremes; Jump, by the Pointer Sisters; Faith, by George Michael; 
Every Breath You Take, by the Police; With or Without You, by U2; 
White Wedding, by Billy Idol; Don't Stand so Close to Me, by the 
Police; The Logical Song, by Supertramp; Goodbye Stranger, also 
by Supertramp; What I Am, by Edie Brickell & the New Bohemians; 
Major Tom, by Peter Schilling; Bette Davis Eyes, by Kim Carnes; 
Sweet Dreams, by the Eurythmics; Father Figure, by George 
Michael; These Dreams, by Heart; We Didn't Start the Fire, by 
Billy Joel; Addicted to Love, by Robert Palmer; Hotel California, 
by the Eagles; Holding Out for a Hero, by Bonnie Tyler; We're Not 
Gonna Take It, by Twisted Sister; It's Raining Men, by the 
Weather Girls; Time Warp, and Sweet Transvestite, from the Rocky 
Horror Soundtrack; Don't Answer Me, by Alan Parsons Project.