Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: Somewhere after "All Things", yet
before "Requiem"

Summary: Scully finds a video

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully aren't mine. They
belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox
Broadcasting.
 
 

"An Immodest Proposal"

 
         Same old, same old. Here I am, in my
car, driving to apartment #42. I'm doing my
usual,"Feed the fish, take the mail, because
Mulder's been called out of town" routine. If
people were to write stories about my life, they
would most likely include this oft-repeated
scenario.

         As I turn the final corner that brings
me to his building, I do remember a little
something that makes this time slightly
different than all the others. Somewhere between
my marine and mail duties, I have to track down
a teeny, tiny, black, lacy unmentionable that I
left at Mulder's last weekend. The thought of
those days, of just the fact that a piece of my
lingerie is residing somewhere in his apartment,
makes me smile.

         As I park and shut off the car, I
realize that I am still smiling. This "thing" we
have is so new to us. It may be ancient to the
rest of the world, but this joy in being
intimately together is uncharted territory for
both of us. Mulder and I have not been strangers
to pain, matter of fact, it has been a frequent
houseguest. Happiness and peace, now there are
some new neighbors.

         I wave slightly to some of Mulder's as
I climb the stairs and enter the building. It's
a relatively short ride in the rickety elevator
to get to his floor. As I walk down the hall to
his doorway, I determinedly push aside the sad,
tragic, and frustrating memories of past events
that that occurred in this corridor. That was
then. We are still here. Now.

         I turn the key and enter his "humble
abode." Yes, it is pure Mulder, the scent which
meets me. It is part library, part Drakar Noir,
part day-old pizza. The remnants of the last
fragrance are staring back at me from their home
on Mulder's coffee table. That must have been
some lead he was called away to investigate; he
left this place like he was fleeing Pompeii.

         As I am reminded of his single-minded
passion, I remember my search for that swatch of
satin and lace which inflamed said emotion just
two days ago.

         It was supposed to be a quiet evening
of movie watching and unbuttered popcorn. And it
almost was until he asked me what I did earlier
that day. Not wanting to lie, of course, I told
him I had been shopping. At Victoria's Secret.
Being the consummate seeker of truth, Mulder
didn't quit until he found my singular purchase.
Needless to say, he was pleased and so was I.

         Now if I could just find the darn
thing. It has to be here somewhere, I think as I
look around his living room. We started out
here; granted, we moved to the bedroom shortly
thereafter, but not before he removed them with
his-

         Oh jeez, just focus and try to find
them. I begin to look where I don't expect them
to be. How about near the television? Maybe when
he tossed them over his shoulder, they landed-

         Then I see it. There is a tape that was
ejected, still sitting in the VCR, and it's not
"Moonstruck." Its title tells me more than I
would ever hope to know: "My Cousin Horny."

         Annoyance, bemusement, and then, just
plain disappointment washes over me. I hate to
admit it, but my heart does the proverbial sink.
What does he see in, why does he watch, why does
he need these NOW? They are all questions that
circle around my mind, jabbing at me, poking at
my sense of whom I am to him.

         Millions of men watch these things, I
tell myself as I sit down on the floor to
collect my thoughts. None of those millions are
Mulder, my Mulder now, though. I could see him
watching them in the past couple of empty,
lonely years. Why now, now when we who fought to
overcome so much, have so much? Aren't I enough
for-

         Well, we'll just see what they have
that I do not, I think defiantly as I push the
tape back into the VCR, turn on the TV, and
press, "play."
 

*~*~*

         They have a lot. A lot, a lot. A lot of
what I always thought I had enough of, until I
watched them. And I am watching them, much to my
amazement. I cannot take my eyes from these
women and men. They are together; they are
alone. They are in groups; they are with, well,
I think one could call them "devices." I am
riveted.

         That must be why I can hear words being
spoken, suddenly, because they surely are not
being said by the actors on the screen. Like a
gnat on a sticky August night, the words are at
me, trying to distract me. If I turn my
attention just slightly, I think I can make it
out:

         "Scully? Hey, you really take this
fish-feeding duty seriously." The words are
being spoken by someone in the room.
 

         Mulder.

         I am caught.

         I stand and nonchalantly try to move
close enough to the TV in order to shut it off
before Mulder realizes my viewing choice.

         "You're back early," I throw out to
him, hoping to keep him at bay with small talk.

         "Yeah, turned out to be another farmer
who aced Geometry," he says sheepishly as he
moves closer.

         I'll give up the satisfaction of a
million "I told you so's" in exchange for a
quiet click of the off button. My hand reaches
for it when suddenly, he's right next to me,
looking for a welcome home hug. Oh, I'll give
him one, if only to turn him around so that he
won't be facing the TV.

         No such luck. The "actress" in the
current scene has just reached Nirvana and has
decided to let the entire world know about it,
including Mulder.

         "Scully, I've heard about talking to
plants to make them grow. But what are you doing
to my fish, letting them watch such a violent-"
His voice trails off as he angles himself to get
a better look at the source of the screams. Now
he sees it.

         "What the hell are you watching,
Scully?" He turns to face me. "And why are you
watching it?"

         "I guess I could ask you the same
thing," I reply with a little more quietness in
my tone than I would have hoped.

         He reaches to turn it off, but my hand,
seemingly of its own accord, stops him. He looks
at me with the expression of a young boy who
just walked in on his parents making love.

         "Don't," I say hoarsely.

         And so we sit there, Mulder and I,
watching porn.

         I'm not sure how many minutes, hours,
days, years pass before I speak, never taking my
eyes from the screen.

         "Why don't they ever talk to each
other?"

         "Oh, they say things, Scully," he
replies with an embarrassed sigh.

          "No, I mean, sentences, not
exclamations to the heavens, Mulder. It would
just be so much, hotter," I say, all the time
wondering why I did.

         "You want this to be hotter?" he says
with exasperation. "I don't know; it seems
pretty warm to me."

          A pause of about an eon transpires
while the athletes on screen go for another
round. "Scully, why are we doing this?" he asks
impatiently.

         "I wanted to-" I can't seem to find the
right words.

         "Yes?" he urges.

         I turn away from him, rising to go. "I
just wanted to see what you saw in them. And to
be honest, I just don't know what that is," I
say as I'm picking up my jacket and keys. I'll
have to retrieve that piece of lingerie another
time. Right now, it's the last thing on my mind.
The only thing I can think of is getting as far
away from Mulder and his tapes as I can.

         "Hey Scully, wait. Don't go." He's
standing right behind me. "Stay; I'll tell you
why you found that video."

         My desire to run wrestles with a
stronger wish to understand. My eyes offer my
consent and he leads me with a gentle hand on my
elbow back to the couch. He begins:

         "You know, we all have things, habits,
to, um, make life hurt a little less, to make
the days, nights a little easier. We self-
soothe; we- eat, smoke, watch TV. For so long,
this has been, uh, mine. When I wanted to
escape, when I didn't want to think anymore, I'd
watch these."

         "Did it work?"

         "No. I'd only sit and think what a poor
substitute it was for what, for whom I really
wanted," he says quietly as his hand covers mine
while his eyes lower.

          Like other movie choices of his, this
saddens me, giving me boldness to ask my next
question.

         "But why are you watching these now,
Mulder? I'm here. You're here. It just doesn't
make sense."

         "You're right."

         For being right, I'm certainly not
feeling any better. Matter of fact, I feel
worse. Before I watched the tape, I was just
confused as to his motivations. Now, I feel
confused and dirty.

         He must sense my uneasiness, because
he's still attempting to fill in the blanks.

         "Agent Scully, did you happen to notice
something about the tape you found?"

         Oh, I noticed quite a few things, none
of which I wanted to share at the moment.

         Very slowly and with his eyes locked on
mine he says, "It was at the very beginning. I
never watched it. I tried, I couldn't. Not now."

         A tiny smile begins to creep across my
face as his hand reaches up to cup my cheek.

         "There was no kindness, no excitement,
no passion. Not like us." He finishes the last
word as a whisper across my lips.

         And he's right. While arousing, there
was nothing on the tape that made me feel like
this- alive, renewed, right. Our lips caress and
sustain the other, bringing to life the passion
of our years together. No celluloid figure, no
matter how amazing looking could do this, for
him or for me.

         I can feel his lips curving, curling
into a smile beneath my own. He breaks the kiss
and leans in to whisper near my ear, " But did
you see anything you want to try?"

         "Maybe," I reply with a nervous giggle.

          Before I know it, he's shifting me,
pulling me on top of him. And it's with every
leer as well as every bit of tenderness in him
that he speaks to me the words, "So, what are we
waiting for 'cousin'?!"
 

END
 

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