Dana Scully's residence
December 16
12:35 a.m.

"Would you like to come in?"

"I'd love to." Keith smiled warmly and sincerely as she unlocked the door to her apartment.

She stepped through and he followed, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her gently on the lips. "I've been dying to do that all evening," he said, then drew back. "I hope you don't mind."

"On the contrary," she said, snaking a hand behind his neck and bringing his lips back to hers.

He held her tighter and the kiss deepened. Scully couldn't believe that one of her mother's "set up" dates had actually worked out this well.

When the kiss ended, Keith stared at her in awe. "Where'd you learn to kiss like that?"

Scully smiled seductively. "There are some advantages to medical school besides the obvious."

"I guess," he said, breathlessly, gathering her in again.

Without breaking the embrace, Scully guided them to the sofa. Keith was a fast learner, Scully gave him that, as he lowered their entwined bodies down toward the cushions.

"Ouch! Hey!"

For a second, Scully couldn't think as Keith let go of her and scrambled hastily to his feet. Caught off balance, Scully landed on the floor just below the couch. She found herself staring into the indignant eyes of her partner.

"Jesus, Scully. I was willing to let the love scene slide, but if you don't mind I'd rather not be a participant in a triangle."

"Mulder!" She could only stare at him.

"Can I go back to sleep now?" he asked, his eyes darting behind her, at Keith, she imagined. "You two can take it into the bedroom, can't you?"

She pushed herself to her feet. "What the hell are you doing on my couch?" She took him in fully then, T- shirt, sweatpants, bare feet, blanket. He was dug in for the night. "What the hell are you doing in my apartment?" The confusion on his face only partly registered. "I--"

"Never mind. I don't care. Just get out."

"But Scully--" He sat up, blinking.

"Now. Out."

"But I don't--"

"Out, Mulder!" She was red in the face, she could feel it, and she wasn't sure if it was from anger or embarrassment, and whether it was because of Mulder or Keith. She only knew she wanted Mulder out, and she wanted him out now.

"Scully, if you'd just think a minute-- "

She ripped the blanket out of his hands. This should have been a private, intimate moment between her and Keith. Instead, she found herself playing to an audience. She had never been so mortified in her life. "Get out of my apartment, Mulder. Just because I have to work with you all day, doesn't mean I want you in my life at night."

His face was very serious, and his voice was very quiet. "Do you mean that?"

At that moment in time, she meant every word of it--and more. "Get out," she hissed.

His face was full of hurt, and she revelled in it. Bastard. "Okay," he said softly. He stood up and walked out the door.

I have to work with you all day. I don't want you in my life at night. The words echoed in his head as he walked down the hallway. Then why did she offer to let him stay at her apartment while his was being fumigated? It was obvious she'd forgotten that it was this weekend, and it was obvious that his presence had embarrassed her, but did she really feel that way about him? Was he just her partner--and nothing else? Were those feelings of friendship, affection--of love--on his part only? Until this evening, he hadn't thought so. He reached the elevator, and pressed the "down" button. Where would he go? Lone Gunmen? They'd let him spend the weekend. The elevator arrived, and he got on. When the doors opened at ground level, he stepped out and stopped cold.

It was almost winter, and he was in bare feet and short sleeves. He patted the pockets of his pants. No car keys. Damn.

He glanced at the elevator. He couldn't go back up there. Not now. Maybe not ever. Looking around the tiny lobby, he sighed shakily, already feeling the cold penetrating his clothing. If he went out the door, he was hospital material. Staying here wasn't much better, but it was his only alternative. He picked a corner and slid down the wall, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as he could in a bare room with nothing to hide behind. With any luck he'd be picked up for vagrancy and get to spend the night in a nice, warm jail cell.

He could only hope.

1:25 a.m.

Scully closed the door softly and sighed. She walked over to the couch and fell into it; snatching up the blanket Mulder had left, she scowled at it. That fiasco with Mulder had effectively doused both her and Keith's fires, and no amount of rekindling could get back even a spark. The night was dead. Long live the night.

Keith had very politely stayed for coffee, but the small talk was strained and careful. He was revising his estimation of her, of their evening, she was sure. No longer thanking whoever had arranged his part of the blind date. Cursing that person, as a matter of fact, for saddling him with a crazy woman who brings a man home while she already has one sleeping on her couch.

Damn Mulder anyway for ruining her life, not just tonight but every night since she'd known him.

Her intercom buzzed, and her spirits perked up. Maybe he'd changed his mind? She moved quickly to the speaker. "Yes?" she questioned. "Dana, this is Keith."

His was not the voice of passion. It could hardly even be called friendly, either. "Yes?" What could he want then? She looked around the apartment. Had he forgotten something? Keys, wallet... She spotted them on the coffee table.

"That guy you threw out?" He sounded disgusted. "He's down here. I suggest you either take him back up or call the police, before he freezes to death. Good night."

He cut off, and Scully stared at the clutter on the coffee table. They were Mulder's, not Keith's. Something at the side of the couch caught her attention, and she recognized Mulder's overnight bag. Oh, God, this couldn't be... She grabbed the blanket up off the couch, stuffed her keys in her pocket and ran for the elevator.

She found him huddled in a corner, shivering. Wrapping him in the blanket, she pulled him to her breast. "God, Mulder, I'm so sorry."

He roused and snuggled into her. "'S'okay," he said sleepily. "I figured you just forgot."

"I did. I'm sorry. Let's get you upstairs where it's warm, okay?"

"Okay," he said, pushing to his feet with her help. "How did you--"

"Keith called me on the intercom," she told him as she guided him into the elevator.

"Oh."

He didn't say another word until they walked through the door of her apartment. Glancing at the clock, he noted how little time had passed between his departure and re-entry. He'd scared the man off. And although he wasn't entirely remorseful that he had, he genuinely regretted ruining her evening.

"I'm sorry about, uh..." They sat on the couch, and she straightened the blanket around him.

"So am I." He was afraid to look at her, but he did anyway. Her face was wistful, almost melancholy, full of what-could-have-been's. "Did you mean it?"

She looked puzzled, then horrified. She shook her head.

He wasn't wholly convinced. She'd scored a direct hit on his heart, and it was still open and raw. "I can stay somewhere else if you want," he said quietly.

Another shake of the head. "It's not necessary, Mulder. It wasn't your fault."

If there was one thing Mulder recognized, it was self-recrimination, and he saw it very clearly in Scully. "It wasn't yours, either." He took her hand. "Keith's a fool. If it was me, I would have stayed."

Scully smiled at him. "It is you. You are staying."

Mulder searched her eyes for the true meaning of her words, so sure yet so afraid he'd find the gentle ribbing that was such a staple of their relationship.

"I'm not teasing you, Mulder," she said softly. "I'm glad you're here."

He took a breath and finally returned the smile. He held open the blanket. "Room enough in here for two."

She looked relieved as she slid next to him. He gently encased her in the blanket's folds and she rested her head on his chest, her arms encircling him lightly. His eyes closed, the scent of her hair permeating his senses. He was almost afraid to believe that he was sitting here, like this, with her.

"This is nice," she said quietly.

He took a deep, satisfied breath. "Yeah." Although not the night of passion with which she had begun her evening, Mulder sensed that Scully was not disappointed with the evening's developments. He loved her for it.

"You have a very comforting heartbeat," she said. "Hypnotic. Lulling."

He chuckled. "It's putting you to sleep, right?" Her head moved upward, and he opened his eyes to meet hers. "Do you want to go to bed?"

"I'm comfortable right here." Her look was hopeful. "How about you?"

He could have been lying on a bed of scrap metal, and his answer would have been the same. "Never comfortabler."

She laughed. "Good to see that the Oxford education hasn't gone to waste." A yawn claimed her suddenly; her eyes closed, and she nestled against him.

He kissed the top of her head. "Good night, Scully."

"Good night, Mulder."

His night had begun on Scully's couch, and he had fully expected to awaken on it. And he still would. He always slept better at her place, and he had anticipated two evenings of nightmare-free sleep, maybe a pleasant dream or two. That, too, was within the realm of possibility.

Scully in his arms--now that was something he had never considered as happening, tonight or ever. Even as she lay against him, the sight of her shoulders rising and falling, the warmth of her arms as they held him possessively, the feel of her body pressed to his... Mulder had to swallow the lump in his throat.

"You okay, Mulder?" Scully's sleepy voice drifted up to him.

He hugged her and rested his head atop hers; he thought how it couldn't get any better than this. "I'm wonderful, Scully," he sighed, closing his eyes.

She reached up and patted his cheek. "I'll let you know tomorrow, Mulder. I'm too tired right now."

His eyes opened, and he smiled. Maybe, he considered, an amendment to that thought was in order.

The End

When the satisfaction or the security of another person becomes as significant to one as one's own satisfaction or security, then the state of love exists.

-Henry Stack Sullivan

Comments appreciated! jolassi555@cs.com