Picnic I: Agent Mulder (1/2)
by Jo-Ann Lassiter 
Email Address: jolassi555@cs.com
Spoiler Warning: None.
Rating: PG.
Classification: S, H
Key Words: Mulder/Skinner friendship
Summary: Mulder takes advantage of an opportunity to get Skinner
and Scully together. Set before Memento Mori.
Author's Note: As usual, thanks to Jill for giving it the
once-over.

FBI Annual Employees' Picnic
FBI Picnic Grounds (and you thought they didn't have any)
August 6

"Mulder!" 

The A.D. frowned as the agent ducked into the men's room without
acknowledging his hail. Skinner shrugged and pulled on the door
handle. "What the hell..." The door was locked. He was about to
knock when he heard the unmistakable sound of someone being
violently sick. Skinner sighed and sat on the door stoop. 

Footsteps approached and Skinner waved them off. "This one's out
of order. There's another over there." He pointed to the building
on the other side of the compound. 

"Thanks, sir," Jenkins and Rosen called. They didn't ask why the
Assistant Director of the FBI was sitting on the steps of an
out-of-order bathroom. 

Several more agents approached, and Skinner sent them all on
their way. Mulder would owe him for this, he swore. Then he heard
a click, and rose. He pushed on the door and went inside. Mulder
was hunched over a sink, bracing himself on one shaking arm, trying
to rinse out his mouth with the other. Skinner sighed and locked
the door. 

Mulder looked up in alarm when he heard the 'snap!' of the lock.
His face was beaded in sweat, and Skinner was sure it wasn't from
the race he'd just run. 

"Take it easy, Agent Mulder. I just want to talk to you without
being disturbed." 

The agent nodded and went back to rinsing his mouth. 

Skinner looked around, then walked over to the paper towel
dispenser and grabbed a handful. "Here." He handed them to Mulder
when the agent finished up. 

"Thanks," Mulder mumbled. He dried his face and then looked up,
curiosity and dread warring in his eyes. 
"Have you been sick the entire day?" the A.D. asked. 

Shock played over the agent's face as he studied Skinner for any
ulterior motives. Then he relaxed, resigned as it were, to his
fate. "Yeah," he said, nodding slightly. 

"Why didn't you stay home?" 

"I promised Scully." A smile Skinner knew Mulder couldn't
prevent worked its way onto the agent's face. "She's never been
before." 

Skinner was surprised at Mulder's implication. "You have?" he
asked, incredulous. 

Mulder nodded. "When I was... younger." 

There was just the slightest hesitation, but Skinner caught it.
He knew what it implied. "How's it going today?" 

Mulder shrugged. "The usual. You know." His eyes drifted to the
door. "I know you were out there turning people away." Mulder eyed
Skinner appraisingly. "Thanks." 

"No problem, Agent Mulder. I know you'd do the same for me."
Skinner was surprised to find that he meant it. And believed it.
And, as he looked up at Mulder, he believed that Mulder did, too.

Suddenly the agent doubled over, coughing. Skinner filled a cup
with water, then handed it to him. The agent accepted the cup and
took a sip. "Thanks," he choked. 

"Don't talk. Drink," the A.D. ordered. 

For once, Mulder obeyed. "Why are you here?" he asked, when he
could speak again. Skinner opened his mouth to reply, but Mulder
interrupted. "I mean, here--in here. Not why are you at the
picnic." 

How could he put this so that Mulder wouldn't take it the wrong
way? "I, uh, noticed you and Scully when you arrived and--" 

A smirk appeared on Mulder's face, and Skinner had the worst
feeling... 

"You mean you noticed when *Scully* arrived," Mulder said. 

The A.D. felt his face heating up. How the hell did he know
these things? 

Mulder looked right at him, eyes twinkling. "They don't call me
'Spooky' for nothing, you know." 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mulder," Skinner said
roughly, turning his back on his agent. 

"Okay, sir," Mulder said softly. "But I think you should know:
Scully doesn't know what I'm talking about, either." 

Skinner spun around to face Mulder. "Oh, God, she doesn't--"

Mulder shook his head. "She's as blissfully oblivious as you."
Mulder tilted his head thoughtfully. "Actually..." He pulled out a
paper towel and wiped the newly-sprouted sheen of sweat from his
face. "...I'm probably the only one who's noticed that you two have
a thing for each other." 

"A..." The A.D. stared at Mulder in shock. Did he say the *two*
of them? "Mulder, what--" 

Suddenly, Skinner saw Mulder's face go sheet white. "Uh, sir,
would you mind fending off traffic again?" 

"The door's locked, Mulder. No one can get in." 

"I know, sir, but..." The agent looked at him imploringly. 

Skinner understood. He wouldn't want an audience, either. "Okay,
but leave the door unlocked. I'll keep them away." 

Mulder nodded, then made a bee-line for the nearest stall.
Skinner hesitated only a second, then left to give the man some
privacy. He resumed his post on the stairs. 

Just when he was beginning to think he was a men's room
magnet--absolutely no one had tried to get in while he was inside
with Mulder, but the minute he walked out the door... he swore they
were lying in wait for him--the door opened, and Mulder stumbled
out. 

"Jesus, Mulder, you look like shit." He grabbed the agent's
elbow and sat him down on the top stair. 

"Thanks," Mulder croaked, squinting up at Skinner. "I don't look
better than I feel?" 

Skinner stared at him. "What?" 

"I... Never mind. I think I'm delirious. Are we still at the
picnic? Tell me it's over and I'm home in bed and I just *think*
I'm here. Don't pinch me, though, because if this is real I don't
want to know it." 

Skinner stared at him. "Don't *pinch* you?" 

Mulder groaned. "I *am* still here, aren't I?" He gazed
pleadingly at Skinner. "Sir, please. Come with me. If Scully sees
you she'll leave me alone. She won't make me run any more races;
she won't make me roll an egg with my nose; she won't make me sit
on balloons." 

Skinner stared at him. "She makes you sit on balloons?" 

"What is it about picnics that brings out the teenager in grown
women? What makes them inflict..." Mulder shuddered. "...party
games... upon their poor innocent partners? Please, sir..." Mulder
was wearing the most pitiful expression Skinner had ever seen on a
human being. "...if you send me back alone, she's going to bind
herself to me and make me run the three-legged race. I'm up
here..." The agent raised his arm above his head. "...and she's
down here..." He lowered it chest-high. "We're gonna crash and
burn, sir. Either she'll be on top of me, or I'll be on top of
her--" 

Skinner couldn't take any more. "All right!" he exploded. "All
right," he said, a little calmer. "Okay, Mulder. All right. I'll go
with you." 

Mulder looked at him hopefully. "You'll do the three-legged
thing with Scully?" 

The A.D. took a deep breath. It was going to be the ultimate
sacrifice, but one of his agents was in trouble. "I'll do it." 

For a minute, he thought Mulder was going to kiss him. Skinner
stood up quickly. "Are you ready? Can you make it back okay?" 

Mulder nodded. "Yeah. I'm okay." Skinner helped him up and
steadied him. "Will you keep her busy?" the agent asked
conspiratorially. "Will you make her leave me alone?" 

"I'll try. No promises, Agent Mulder. But I'll try." 

A grin that made Mulder look 18 years old lit up the agent's
face. "It'll be fine, sir. You'll see." 

All of a sudden, Skinner had the most horrendous thought. He
looked at the agent walking beside him. His skin was still pasty
white, and his gaze was a little unfocused. The A.D. shook his
head. Silly of him to think that Mulder would be playing... 

Mulder felt horrible as he limped along beside Skinner; he
hadn't been this sick in a long while. Still, as he slipped a
sidelong glance at the A.D., he couldn't get that tune out of his
head... 

Matchmaker, matchmaker... 

Mulder almost whistled. 

The End 

Note: Among the various synonyms for 'matchmaker' in the
thesaurus is: agent.