TITLE: No Strings Attached
AUTHOR: aRcaDIaNFall$
FEEDBACK: arcadianfalls@yahoo.com.au
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: none. setting generic.
CLASSIFICATION: MSR, UST 
SUMMARY: A night in suburbia.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know, it's been a while. Not so much a lack of
inspiration or time (though both have been relatively scarce lately)
but more my inability to get my butt into gear. But I'm here now, and
you know the drill. If you like it, let me know! Otherwise I'm crawling
back into my cave and hibernating til 2004. :)
--> http://www.geocities.com/arcadianfallls/


No Strings Attached
by arcadianfalls


A more hurried entrance than normal. "I know, I'm late. Sorry."

I looked up at her. She seemed a little flustered, brushing the hair
away from her face as she stacked her load of case files on the desk.
It was barely ten past nine, but she did usually turn up closer to
eight to avoid peak hour traffic.

I grinned. "Don't tell me you slept in, Scully?"

An unamused eyebrow that spoke more than words ever could. She drew a
breath, tucking her hair back again as she started to flick through the
new folders in front of her. "Actually, I was on the phone with my
mom."

My grin vanished. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine. At least, well..." She looked up at me, as if not
sure whether or not I was interested, or even if she could be bothered
explaining. "One of my uncles died."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. He was actually my mom's uncle. I don't really remember him
much. But Mom's gone to help out her aunt, and she asked me to dogsit."

"Dogsit?" Since when had Mrs Scully even had a dog? I was surprised at
how disappointed I felt that I hadn't known. 

"She got a puppy from the shelter a month or so ago. A little terrier
called Michaelangelo. She's still a little overprotective of him, I
guess. I don't think even we kids got that sort of coddling. I got a
detailed list of what to feed him and when, what toys he likes, where
he sleeps... She doesn't want him left alone all night."

I smiled at the thought of anybody trying to coddle Scully. "So you're
dogsitting."

She half-shrugged. "It's not like I couldn't fit it in my social
calendar." She pulled up her chair, sat down, and opened the top case
file. "Anyway, that's why I'm late. So are you going to bring me up to
speed on our cases or what?"

I toyed with an idea, watching her as she skimmed through the brief.
"Maybe I could come over."

"What?" Her eyes didn't leave the page.

"Tonight. I could come over."

She looked up, wary curiosity dawning. "Why?"

"Just... keep you company."

A smile. "Now who's being overprotective?"

"Okay, so you keep *me* company."

"Mulder, I'm just going to be at my mom's house. I'm not leaving the
country."

"I know that. I just thought... you know, it's suburbia."

"And you're afraid I'll be attacked by a garbage monster? Or is it that
you want to try out being Joe Regular for a night?"

She didn't really get it, did she?
"A little from column A, a little from column B. Come on, Scully. I'll
bring a six-pack, we'll sit around, enjoy the twilight together."

"Is this about recapturing a misspent youth?"

"You can't tell me you never sat around on the back porch drinking
beer."

"Not on our back porch, Mulder. My dad would have killed me."

"You're a big girl now."

She gazed at me across the table, weighing it up. Then she smiled
despite herself. "Fine."

"How about eight?"

"Make it seven." She sighed. "Apparently Michaelangelo likes to be up
before the sun. I'm going to need an early night."

"Seven it is."



She was drying her hands on a dishtowel as she opened the door. Dark
pants and a dark green shirt, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. What
I wouldn't give to see her in jeans and a t-shirt, just once..
I grinned, producing the six-pack. "As promised."

She smiled ironically, as if already having second thoughts. "Come on
in."



She'd been cooking. I inhaled the aroma, wondering if she'd cooked for
one or for two. I hadn't eaten, yet.
"Being back home has brought out the domestic skills, huh, Scully?"

No answer, just a warning look as she took the beer from me, stashing
it in the fridge to chill.
"You eat steak, right, Mulder?" It wasn't so much of a question as it
was an announcement.

"Steak, huh?"

"Mom wasn't sure how long she'd be gone... She told me not to let
anything go to waste."

"Good thing I'm here, then."

She lifted the steaks out of the vertical grill. "Dark enough for you?"

"If that's as close as you can get to charcoal, I guess it'll have to
do."

She fished the two steaks out, each onto a spotless white ceramic
plate. Then she produced a vegetable crisper from the refridgerator, a
knife and a wooden block to work on. "Make yourself useful."


Both of us juggling a loaded plate, cutlery and beer bottle, we weren't
really equipped to fend off the small black bundle that greeted us with
slobbery kisses as Scully led me out onto the porch. 

"Hey, down Mikey. That's a good boy. Stay down." Scully's voice didn't
quite drop into a croon as she talked to the puppy, but it was close,
that gentle, patient way she spoke to kids. "Stay back, Mikey. Back,
boy."

"You've got to watch him," she warned me as we settled side by side on
the porch steps, plates on our knees. "He'll snatch food right out of
your hand."

It was a fair-sized backyard, very ordinary. Just an expanse of grass,
edged in with some hedges and trees, a couple of dog-dug holes and dirt
piles around the place. Neatly maintained, but not a labour of love.
Not a gardener, Mrs Scully. Still, the grass had been recently mown,
and there was still light in the clear sky, the sun burning on the
horizon. Everything was so still, so calm. Even the puppy was quiet,
though undoubtedly watching our every move. So this was suburbia...

"I think I've lived in apartments for too long," I mused. "I'd
forgotten what it was like to sit on a back porch."

"My mom keeps talking about selling the house and getting a condo."

"She'd really do that?"

"I don't know. A place this size is a bit too much for her to handle by
herself. And she doesn't do as much entertaining as she did when Dad
was around." She twisted the cap off her beer and took a long sip. "I
don't think she wants to see the place sold, though."

"Has it been in the family long?"

"Not really. They moved in here when I was in college so it was never
really 'home' in that way. Still, it's the last place she and Dad
lived. I guess maybe she doesn't want to let that go. Charlie's family
comes to - Mulder, what are you doing?"

I was trying to cut my steak. Not an easy task with the plate balanced
on my knees, and the salad and corn on the cob had tumbled onto my lap.
I managed to get most of them back onto my plate, the only real damage
done to my ego.
 
"Maybe we should sit inside," she suggested, hiding a smile. Her eyes
were dancing with amusement.

Inside? But we needed this fresh air, this magical twilight. "No. Out
here is good." 

There was an outdoor table setting at the end of the porch, the
pew-like seats stacked upsidedown on the table to save space. I lowered
my plate to the step beside me and stood, moving closer to investigate.
I was trying to manouever a hefty piece the right way up when Scully
let out a cry, and I almost lost my grip on it altogether. I let it
down to the ground, just managing not to land it on my foot, and looked
at her. "What?"

She was standing, now, juggling two plates on one arm. Almost laughing,
her hand to her mouth. "Your steak..."

"What about it?"

"Mikey grabbed it, just gobbled it down. I tried to stop him. I'm
sorry, Mulder..." She grinned sheepishly. 

"The dog ate my steak? That little runt-?" 

"I warned you-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

She smiled, taking pity on me. "You can have half of mine."


While the picnic table lacked the informality of the porch steps, it
was infinitely easier to sit back and relax. The puppy, disappearing to
digest his stolen meal, had returned and settled near us, deceptively
passive. 

Scully was still picking at her salad. I'd finished eating and sat
there, beer bottle in one hand, wondering if I dared stretch the other
arm out along the back of the seat.

"So..." I broke the silence. "It's been a while."

She looked up at me. "A while?"

"Since we talked."

A wary curiosity crossed her face. "Is that why you wanted to come over
tonight, Mulder?"

I smiled, trying to put her at ease. "My intentions were not entirely
altruistic, I admit."

"So, what did you have in mind?" She was still cautious, a little
apprehensive, even. She toyed with the beer bottle.

I shrugged. A noisy flock of birds passed overhead and in a swift move
I slipped my arm along the back of the seat. My dangling fingers
lightly brushed her left shouldler and she looked around sharply,
relaxing when she saw it was just me and not some creepy-crawly. She
swung her gaze back around and looked at me with curious amusement,
wondering. What are you up to?

"Tell me, Scully," I mused playfully, "Was this a good makeout spot?"

Skeptical eyebrow, but a smile despite herself. "You know I wouldn't
tell you, even if it was."

"Ah, so it was a good makeout spot."

"You think I'd be stupid enough to get up to anything with my parents
and three siblings within twenty feet?"

"We were all young and stupid once."

"Maybe you were."

"What, you never did something you regretted?"

"With a guy?" She took a long sip, draining the beer. "Maybe I did. But
never here. Never at home. My dad would have killed me. Bill would have
killed me."

"Ah, the Scully men."

"And I was always their baby girl." She sighed, then waved her empty
bottle. "Want another?"



I watched her as she reemerged from the house, the rest of the six-pack
in one hand, kneeling to scratch the puppy's belly. She put the beers
on the table and slid along the seat to where she'd sat before. No
closer, no further. 

"So, what about you, Mulder?"

"Me?"

"Your back porch. Good makeout spot?"

"I didn't really bring girls back to the house, much." I watched her,
seeing the understanding and empathy in her eyes. I drew myself more
upright, stretching my outreached arm. "Still, there *were* other
porches." 
I resettled, still watching her, considering her. The last light was
fading from the sky but there was a warm glow from the kitchen. Just
sitting there, she seemed so content, so comfortable. Still, there was
something missing. "Do you even own a pair of jeans, Scully?" I asked
suddenly. 

She looked surprised by the sudden change of topic, a little wary. "I'm
sure I do, somewhere. Why?"

"I want to see you in jeans, just once, before I die."

"In jeans?"

"Yeah."

"You gonna tell me why?"

"Nope."

She smiled widely, suddenly. "Are you flirting with me, Mulder?"

"Depends. Are you going to remember this tomorrow?"

Amusement. She twisted the lid off a bottle and passed it to me, then
opened another for herself. "You think I'm drunk after one beer?
Mulder, I'm a navy brat. The least I can do is hold my liquor."

"So a six pack between us isn't going to do much."

"Well, it depends what you had in mind."

"A kiss."

She held my gaze, honest and unflinching as she weighed it up. I could
see in her eyes she wasn't entirely sure if I were serious or not. Then
she smiled, and shook her head. "Nope. You'll need more than a six
pack."

I ducked my head sheepishly. "Well, it was worth trying, huh?"

An ambiguous smile. She put down the beer bottle, tracing the worn
contours of the lacquered wood. A sigh, then silence, more sober. 

"I know what you want, Mulder," she said quietly. "I want it too. But
things are more complicated than that."

"What's so complicated about it?"

She gazed at me evenly. "We're already so close, Mulder. I don't know
if I can give any more than I'm already giving. Intellectually and
emotionally, we're so close. We can't afford to get closer."

"You really think that, Scully?" I wondered aloud. "Or are you just
afraid?"

"I'm afraid of doing anything which could hurt us. I'm afraid of losing
you. Yes, I'm afraid."

How could I answer that? She'd spoken aloud that same fear I carried
with me, the dark shadow biding its time in the back of my mind,
waiting to pounce and swallow me up. No, I couldn't think of anything
more terrible than losing her. But...

"You don't think it's worth the risk?"

She half-shrugged, reaching to half-heartedly push the puppy away as it
tried to jump up beside her. "I don't know, Mulder. I give myself a
headache just thinking about it."

"Maybe you're thinking too hard."

"What, I should be more like you? Leap first, look later?"

"If it's worth trying."

A knowing smile, amused. "You still want that kiss."

"Don't you?"

"We don't normally talk about these things, Mulder."

"You didn't answer my question."

She drew a breath. "Yes, I do." She smiled again, sheepish. "It's just
strange talking about it so clinically. We usually leave everything
so..."

"Unspoken?"

"Something like that."

"Which gives credit to our telepathic bond."

The smile widened. She shook her head, gazing out at the backyard as
she took another sip. 

I leaned back, watching her. "You want to know why I really came over
tonight, Scully?"

"It wasn't to quiz me on teenage indiscretions?"

I dug in my jeans pocket and produced a small tissue-paper bundle,
holding it out on my open palm. She looked at me, eyebrow raised.
"Mulder?"

"Take it."

She obeyed, taking the bundle between thumb and forefinger, turning it
over curiously. "What is it?"

"It's a gift."

"A gift?"

"For you."

An ironic smile. "Yeah, I sorta got that much."

"So go ahead, open it up."

She leaned forward as she lay it down on the table, carefully tugging
at the tape, unwrapping the layers of tissue paper. Scully stopped when
she saw it. She looked up at me sharply. "Mulder-?"

"It's just a gift," I reassured her, a little amused by the suspicion
in her eyes. "No strings attached. I found it and I wanted you to have
it."

"It's a ring."

"And I'm hoping it fits at least one of your fingers, because the
antique shop I found it in doesn't give refunds."

She smiled slightly, turning it over in her fingers, examining the tiny
blue stones, the pewter band. "You know.." She glanced up at me,
looking sheepish. "For a second there I thought you were proposing."

"Then you could at least pretend to be disappointed." I nudged her.
"You going to try it on, or just stare at it all night?"

I saw her hesitate before trying it on her right-hand index finger. Too
tight. She considered her middle finger for a second, then slipped it
on the right-hand ring finger. I grinned, relieved. I hadn't been
kidding about the refund thing.

"See? I thought it would fit your little fingers."

She met my gaze, smiling, though a little uncertain. "I don't know what
to say, Mulder."

"Just tell me you like it."

"I like it. I really do."

"Do I get that kiss now?"

"What happened to 'no strings attached'?"

"I'm kidding, Scully." I squeezed her shoulder, then rose, whistling to
the puppy. His ears pricked up and he fixed his alert gaze on me. 

I found a much-chewed tennis ball and tossed it across the dark yard.
The puppy scrambled after it, snuffling as he foraged through the hedge
to find it. I glanced across at Scully. She was sitting back,
considering the ring on her finger. 

An impatient 'woof' as the ball was dropped at my feet. The dog's tail
was wagging with pride. I picked up the ball, wincing at the warm
saliva coating it, and tossed it again.

"Hey, Mulder?"

I turned to find her watching me.

"Yeah?"
 
"I did always wonder, you know."

"Wonder what?"

A wide smile. Her blue eyes were sparkling. "If this would be a good
makeout spot."

The puppy barked again. I fumbled for the ball at my feet and tossed
it, not taking my eyes from Scully. I watched her for a second, making
a show of considering it. "No Scully men around now."

She dropped her gaze down into her beer for a moment, then slowly
lifted the bottle, taking a sip and then putting it down again. Then,
one hand on the table to balance herself, she stood on the edge of the
bench, and cupped my cheeks, lifting my eyes to meet hers. It was
strange to look up at her, for once. I wondered if she was going to
kiss me after all, or if she was waiting for me to move first, but she
seemed content just to study me, read me. 
"Jeans, Mulder?" she asked finally, curious. "Why jeans?"

I took her right hand from my face, running my thumb over the ring,
polishing it. "I'll tell you why, if you tell me what you would have
said."

"What I would have said about what?"

"If I really had been proposing."

Her gaze was searching, confident, curious. She smiled, laying a finger
on my lips, her touch lingering. "You'll definitely need more than a
six-pack for that."

"Yeah?"

She drew back a little, and held up her hand to examine the ring in the
light, considering it. She smiled again. "Well, maybe."


fin.