Laughing in the Dark
by Slippin' Mickeys
red_phile@yahoo.com

CLASSIFICATION: V, MSR

RATING: R

SUMMARY: 

KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully romance
 
SPOILERS: None. Not really, anyway. You might want to see the movie E.T.
before you read this, but you don't need to!

DISCLAIMER: How many times do I have to tell you? I am NOT Chris Carter!
STOP getting us mixed up! Sheesh… ;)  If you don't already know what goes
here, I'm certainly not going to tell you. 

NOTES: I'm going to dedicate this one to the image of Diana Fowley walking
around with her face wrapped around my fist. It's also dedicated to the
first (hopefully, of many) meeting of all of the Ladies of Monday Night.
Girls, I hope I did you proud. I also have to thank Kim for all of her
help, encouragement, and pleading for more. :)

ARCHIVE: Knock yourself out. Just let me know where it's going first! 

FEEDBACK: Is the better than Ricky Martin sitting on my lap, with David
Duchovny in the corner making me margaritas. Okay, almost. Let's just say
that I really, really like it, and always answer. :) red_phile@yahoo.com


Laughing in the Dark
By Slippin' Mickeys

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder got up from the table in the restaurant and walked toward his
partner. There, Scully was sitting, a skeptical look painted across her
face. He knelt in front of her, heedless of the waiter who was trying to
get through, and picked up her hand. 

"Hey," He said softly, "I've got a question for you…"

Not removing her hand from his, she pulled back  her head questionly, and
gave him a sideways glance. "Okayyyyy…"

He looked down at their interlaced fingers, and back up to her face, a
curious smile on his lips.

"Will you marry me?"

She nearly laughed. In fact, she did. 

Kind of.

"What are you…?" She choked out.

"I'm serious. Will you marry me?"

She looked around, as if not sure this was reality. She glanced up at the
waiter, who was looking back, bemused, and then again at Mulder. She smiled
at him, and nodded her head.

"Yes. Yes, I will marry you."

Applause erupted from around them, and they jumped, both just noticing the
crowd they had gathered. The waiter smiled, winked, and turned to duck back
into the kitchen.

Mulder leaned forward, kissed her on the mouth, and gathered her to him.

Just then, a clipped buzzing sounded in Mulder's ear, and Skinner's voice
came through.

"Alright agents, Alpha one bought it. Mulder, don't move, can you see him?"

Mulder continued to hold Scully close as he scanned the dining room for
their waiter. He just then saw him coming out of the kitchen door, holding
a cake with a long, pink candle alit on top. He was  headed straight for
their table, a smile spread across his face. Mulder released Scully, and
stood, smiling as the waiter set down the cake and held his hand out to
Mulder.

"I believe congratulations are in order, sir"

Mulder, with a wide grin, took the offered hand and shook it, not
releasing. 

"Why thank you, and waiter, one more thing…"

"What?"

Mulder squeezed a little harder, then with one swift move twirled the man
around and held his hand behind his back. He reached in his front pocket,
pulled out a pair of handcuffs and slapped them on.

"You have the right to remain silent…"

XxXxXxXxXxX 

"So Mulder," Scully asked, as Mulder pulled the car out of the jumble of
police cars and curious onlookers, "what made you decide to… propose, to
catch our suspect?"

"As opposed to doing what?" Mulder countered.

Scully thought for a moment. 

"Oh, I dunno, waiting for the check, maybe?"

Mulder took his eyes from the road and dipped his head to look at her.

"Are you questioning my professional flare?" 

Scully chuckled to herself.

"Oh, is *that* what that was?"

Mulder pulled his eyes back to the road and nodded once.

"As a matter of fact…"

"In that case," Scully said, patting him on the knee, "next time, I'll try
to be more prepared for your… professional flare."

They drove the rest of the way in a companionable silence, Mulder
occasionally flipped the radio back and forth between classic rock and the
more contemporary classical station that Scully preferred.

Scully spent the trip looking out the window, at the darkening evening sky,
occasionally stealing glances at Mulder. 

Something had gotten into him lately. He'd changed somehow. Nothing drastic
or extreme, but a more subtle shift in his personality. He'd become kinder
lately, gentler, softer, more… sensitive. She wasn't averse to, or even
unsettled by the change, but she *was* intrigued. 

What she really wanted to do, was to get into Mulder's head and find out
what had caused the change. 

Her musings were interrupted when Mulder pulled into a parking space at her
apartment complex.  

"Well," said Mulder, breaking through the haze of her thoughts, "you're
home. And newly engaged, too. Are you going to call your mother, or am I
going to have to go over there and ask permission?" 

Scully unbuckled her seatbelt and looked over at Mulder, deciding to play
along.

"I don't know Mulder, my mom is pretty old-fashioned. I think you're going
to have to go over there. You want me to come with you? She can be pretty
tough."

"No, it's okay," he said, patting his hip, "I'm packin'." 

"Ah, get rid of the in-laws right off the bat?"

"That was my plan."

Scully smiled at him and grabbed her purse, getting out of the car. Just as
she was about to close the door, on an impulse, she bent down again and met
Mulder's curious, if not slightly panicked gaze and asked, "Mulder, do you
want to come up? Have some coffee or something?"

Mulder blew out a sigh, almost relieved. "Sure. Just don't try anything
funny."

Scully rolled her eyes and shut the car door, waiting for Mulder to get out
of his, lock it and join her before she ascended the stairs to her complex.
He followed close behind her, his hand in it's customary place on the small
of her back. It had become expected, almost. One of the many strange yet
wonderful facets of their partnership. Mulder always came up with a weird
explanation for things—Scully always refuted them. Scully always slept in
the car—Mulder always slept on the plane. Mulder always ordered french
fries—Scully always stole them. Scully always walked in front of
Mulder—Mulder always led her. These things were never questioned, they
worked. They fit. 

She unlocked the door, and had to shove it hard twice with her shoulder in
order to get it open.

For some reason, she was suddenly and unusually nervous. Mulder's erratic
behavior in the past had always given her cause for such feelings, but his
fleeting kindness, and moments of extreme tenderness had never caused her
worry. They'd always endeared him to her, reminded her why she stuck with
him in his quest, *their* quest. But what frightened her most about his
recent amiability, she realized, was that she was softening to it. Becoming
accustomed to it, enjoying it, waiting—hoping for it. Returning it. And
*that* was what scared her.

"I have *got* to get that damn thing fixed," she said, as she threw her
purse down by the entrance, and hung up her coat in the closet near the
door. 

She turned to take Mulder's, but paused, just noticing the chill of the
room. Mulder had already taken it off and was handing it to her when she
turned to him.

"Are you sure you don't want that for now, Mulder? It's freezing in here."

She left him standing there with his arm extended, not waiting for an
answer, and walked over to the thermostat.

Mulder shrugged and hung up the coat himself, shutting the closet door with
definitive click. Not taking his hand off of the door, he turned to Scully
and took a breath, asking, "Scully, is there something wrong?" He turned to
face her head on, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "You seem kind of…
I dunno, uncomfortable." 

She ignored his question, and with a hesitant pause, she turned towards the
kitchen. "Make yourself at home," she said, "do you want some coffee?"

Mulder watched her go, then plopped down on the couch, leaning back and
casually regarding the room. 

"Sure, sounds great," he answered distantly.

His eyes fell on the fireplace, and he decided to start a fire in an effort
to alleviate the chill that had taken a firm grasp on Scully's apartment. 

He rolled up the sleeves on his sweater, and knelt down in front of the
fireplace. He wasn't surprised to find that Scully had everything he needed
to start a roaring fire in a small cabinet next to the fire place. In no
time he had a roaring fire. He stood up, admiring his quick handiwork,
wiped off his hands, and rubbed his eyes absently. 

His left eye had started to bother him. He must have gotten something in it
while building the fire. He rubbed at a little harder, but it only made it
worse. He finally had to take out his contact, and found his eye was too
irritated to put it back in.

"Hey Scully," he called to her, holding his contact in his palm and rubbing
his eye absently with his other hand, "do you have any contact solution?" 

"Uh, yeah," she called back from the kitchen, "in the bathroom, second
shelf in the medicine cabinet."

Mulder rummaged around in her bathroom drawers until he found an empty
contact case and took them out. He walked back to where he'd hung his coat
in the closet, and pulled out his glasses, grateful that he'd brought them
with him. 

He moved back to the couch and plopped down wearily. It had been a long
day. The briefing for the assignment hadn't started until 11 that morning,
but the worrying about the whole operation, and the pressure of being the
actual agents that were undercover and essentially responsible for the
success of the entire assignment had worn Mulder to the bone. He'd been
looking forward to a relaxing evening on his couch with nothing but an
action movie to bother him, but spending it with Scully was even better. 

Spending time with Scully casually, out of the context of work, was akin to
sitting down for honey-sweetened tea with an old childhood friend that was
only in town for the night. It was sweet, reminiscent, and rare. He seized
at every opportunity he was offered.

At that point, Scully came out of the kitchen carrying two steaming cups of
coffee. He looked up at her and smiled, standing to help her set the hot
mugs down on the coffee table.

Scully smiled her thanks and skimmed her eyes over undercover, casual
Mulder, as she sat down. He was wearing jeans, dark brown, leather shoes, a
matching leather belt and a pullover navy blue sweater with a T-shirt
visible underneath. The sweater was vertically ribbed, and hugged him in
the chest while still remaining slightly baggy enough on his waist so that
it still covered his weapon. It was tight enough, she noticed, to
accentuate his pecs just enough to be visible through the shirt. His hair
was slightly disheveled, and he was wearing glasses. Her toes curled
against her will.

He looked like a teaching assistant fantasy she'd once had. Or a J. Crew
model. He looked exceedingly attractive. Hell, he looked edible.

Where was this coming from? This was Mulder she was thinking about. Her
partner, her friend. Mulder wasn't her fantasy TA, he was… Mulder. But as
much as he was Mulder, she could not deny the fact that Mulder was a very
good looking man. So good looking, in fact, that at the moment she was
considering flushing his contacts down the toilet for good.

She grabbed one of the mugs, and sat down in the middle of the couch, the
side of her thigh just touching Mulder's knee. He was sprawled out in the
corner of the couch, his left leg bent up, touching her, and his other
stretched out in front of him. He held his own mug in one hand looked at
her with a soft smile on his face, before turning his attention to the
fire.

Just noticing the fire her partner had quickly and competently built,
Scully looked at it, impressed.

"Mulder," she said, "I see you've finally fine-tuned those Indian Guide
skills."

Mulder smiled as he watched the warm glow of the flames play off of the
carpeting in front of him.

"I was always good with matches and newspaper, Scully. It was the twigs and
leaves thing that I had a problem with."

"Matches and newspapers. I'll remember that," she replied.

"I'm telling you Scully," he said, turning his head so the firelight caught
on his glasses, "the morning sports section *always* comes in handy."

Scully wisely chose not to comment on his statement. 

Mulder took a long swig from his coffee and leaned back on the couch,
sighing.

"Tired?" Scully asked.

"You have no idea," he said, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on
the cushions. He rolled his head to look at her. "So, what do you want to
do?"

"Other than sit back, relax, and not talk about work?"

"Yeah," he said, "other than that."

Scully pulled the oversized wool cardigan she was wearing tighter around
her body and grabbed the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch
and tucked it around herself, stretching her legs out until her feet hit
Mulder's knee. 

"Ah!" Mulder said, pulling away a little as Scully's cold feet touched his
warm leg, "what is it about women that magnetizes their cold feet to a
man's leg?"

Scully smiled at him and chuckled a little under her breath at Mulder's
rhetorical question. 

"You want to watch a movie, Mulder?"

"Sure," he said, settling back down into the cushions, "what have you got?"

"Um…" She said, thinking, "it's been a while. They're in the cabinet under
the VCR, why don't you go pick one?" 

He nodded and extracted himself from the couch, getting onto his knees and
making his way over to the television set like a child. Scully watched him
bemusedly, wondering exactly what it was about him tonight that just made
her want to poke him in the ribs for no reason and ruffle his hair.

Mulder pursed his lips and raked his eyes over Scully's video collection.
He didn't see *anything* he could rouse the mood for. For some reason, old
romances and musicals really didn't appeal to his disposition.

He turned to give Scully a disapproving glare, to which she simply shrugged
apologetically. 

Mulder looked at the floor for a moment, and then turned to Scully and
cocked his head to side.

"Where's that video that I gave you last year for Christmas, Scully?"

She bit her lip and examined her fingernails for a moment, "I don't know,"
she said, glancing up at him, "I was afraid to unwrap it."

He sighed, and shook his head at her, tsking quietly to himself.

"Well," he said, "do you have any idea where it *might* be?"

"The bookshelf?" She half offered, half asked.

Mulder got to his feet and walked over to her bookshelf, perusing the
shelves until he found the small box that was still wrapped in brown paper.

"I'm so disappointed in you, Scully," he said, unwrapping the box and
stealing glances in her direction, "do you think I have *no* sense of
decency?"

"Well…" Scully began.

"Wait," Mulder interrupted her, "don't answer that." 

He finished unwrapping the video and walked over to her, holding it in
front of her face so that she could see what it was.

"E.T., Mulder?" She asked, looking up at him, surprised.

"Yes, Scully. E.T. A Spielburg classic that should be a staple in anyone's
home video library." 

Scully smiled up at him and reached out to touch his arm fleetingly, "thank
you, Mulder. That's very sweet."

Mulder winked at her and moved over to start the movie. He took up his
place back on the couch and they watched in relative silence for about 15
minutes when Mulder started to fidget.

Finally unable to ignore it any longer, Scully asked Mulder what was wrong.

He glanced down at her blanket and then back to her face. "I'm cold," he
said, pouting a little, "you're going to have to share." 

Scully looked at him a moment, regarding him, looking totally forlorn.

She sighed and scooted over, sitting right up next to him.

"Here," she said, throwing half of the blanket over his lap, "better?"

"Much," he said, grinning down at her. 

As they watched the movie, the tension seemed to slip from both of them,
each easing into the other. Soon, Mulder's arm rested along Scully's
shoulders, his hand still splayed across the back of the couch. Scully had
relaxed even more, cuddling up into Mulder's side, her head resting in the
crook of his shoulder.

Just as E.T. was about to go on a trick-or-treating escapade, Scully's VCR
suddenly made a loud grinding noise, and as Scully dove for the remote
control and pressed stop, it spit out the tape which then clattered to the
floor. 

Mulder continued to look at the screen of the television as it turned blue,
then turned to Scully. 

"Problems?" He asked. 

She turned to him, still clutching the remote in her hand. She chewed on
the inside of her lip, irritated. "They were supposed to have fixed that,"
she said, "it started doing that about 4 months ago, and I took it in to
get it fixed. I just got it back last week."

At Mulder's surprised look, she got up and extended her hand to him, "come
on," she said, "they had it for so long, I bought a two-in-one and set it
up in my bedroom."

He took her extended hand, hauling himself up to his feet. He grabbed the
video from the floor in front of the TV and followed Scully into her
bedroom.

She plopped down on the left side of the bed, leaving Mulder the right. He
sat down after putting the video in the television hesitantly, unsure if he
should pick up their care-free attitudes they'd left off on the couch. He
shrugged inwardly, deciding that he really didn't care. He'd been more open
and sensitive toward Scully lately, determined to let her in. To stop
shutting her out. To subtly show her what she meant to him.

He threw himself down on the bed hard enough that it sent Scully airborne
off of the bed nearly six inches. 

"Jesus, Mulder!" Scully said, grabbing the comforter for stability.

"What's wrong Scully?" He asked, smiling at her, "never had a man hop into
bed with you before?"

She rolled her eyes at him and shut off the bedside lamp next to her,
plunging the room into darkness, the only illumination coming from the
small television set near the foot of the bed.

They settled in for the remainder of the movie, but soon after, Scully
began to hear deep, even breaths coming from Mulder's direction. She looked
over at him, softly smiling. He had had a hard day, she was surprised he
hadn't conked out earlier.

She turned down the volume of the movie, but continued to watch. She often
wondered if she and Mulder over the years, had developed as close a bond as
E.T. and Elliot. She was almost certain they had. If one of them would die,
surely the other would be soon to follow.

As the credits began to roll, she got up quietly to turn off the
television, turning to watch Mulder as he slept. He looked so peaceful and
innocent. And childlike, she mused, with his glasses sliding almost all of
the way off of his well-endowed nose. She pushed the button, and it winked
off, plunging the room into absolute darkness. 

She felt her way back to the bed, getting back on top of it, turning toward
Mulder. She was loathe to wake him. 

At that point, his glasses finally slid off the rest of his nose and hit
his shoulder before coming to rest on the bed. It was enough to wake him.
He blinked his eyes open, already adjusted to the blackness of the room,
and looked over at Scully before grabbing his glasses and setting them in
the nightstand on his side of the bed.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey yourself," she replied, "nice nap?"

"Wonderful," he said, "movie over already?"

"Yep. You missed the best part."

"I don't think so," he said, "I wouldn't want to cry in front of you, it'd
make me feel like a sissy."

"Aw, Mulder, don't tell me a manly man like you would cry at E.T."

"Oh come on, Scully, they have a special connection and they're dying,
while the powers that be are doing nothing to stop it," he looked at her,
the corner of his mouth twitching slightly, "it hits close to home."

Nearly brought to tears not by the power of the movie's story, but by the
words of her partner, Scully merely stared up at the ceiling, forcing the
tears back by the shear force of will.

Mulder realized what his words had done, and he endeavored to lighten the
mood.

"Ellioooootttt," he said quietly in his best E.T. impersonation, reaching
out to touch Scully's nose with his index finger.

Instead of lightening the mood, it had done quite the opposite, causing
Scully's chin to quiver.

Afraid she would start to cry because of him, Mulder quickly changed the
subject a little.
 
"Hey Scully," Mulder asked, his voice suddenly low, rumbling in his chest,
"when was the last time you dressed up for Halloween and roamed the streets
trick-or-treating?" 

She turned to look at him oddly, a little up-ended by his change in
conversation, but not ungrateful for it. She  thought long and hard. "Oh
God, not for ever. Probably not since middle school. Why? When was the last
time you went out?"

"Oh, just this past year," Mulder said non-chalantly, "me and the Gunmen
went out and lifted all of the sheets on the little kids dressed as ghosts.
See if we couldn't find a genuine E.T."

Scully snorted her laughter at him, her tension releasing, looking up to
meet his gaze. His head was propped up on his elbow, his gaze intent. "Oh
really," she said, "and what did you dress as?"

"The Beatles," he said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world,
"I was John, Frohike was Paul, Langly was Ringo, Byers was George. Come
with us next year. You can be Yoko."

Scully let out a hearty belly laugh. Throwing her head back in an abandon
that Mulder had witnessed only once, six years ago, in a graveyard in the
rain.

He couldn't help but hope that he'd live to hear it more often.

 "You know, Scully," Mulder said, turning to look at her, suddenly a little
somber, "that's a sound I wouldn't mind hearing for the rest of my life."

Scully rolled her head on the pillow until she was facing Mulder, still
chuckling.

"What sound is that, Mulder?" she asked, grinning.

"You," Mulder said, his intense gaze grazing over her face and hair, "just
you. Laughing in the dark."

The breath rushed out of Scully's lungs, and she looked at him the way he
had once looked at her, after a stakeout confession and talk of rootbeer
and fate.

The impact of all of the implications of Mulder's confession was still
hitting her. She knew all that he meant by it. He meant forever. He meant
her, and he meant more than a platonic relationship. And aside from the
weighty meaning of his words, it was still the sweetest, most touching
thing anyone had ever said to her.

"Mulderrrrr…" She said, wanting to say and do something to at least
acknowledge that she was touched by his statement, but not sure what.

He didn't say anything, merely regarded her with a look that could only be
described as honest.

She looked back at him and blinked once, steeling herself for the impending
epiphany.

"Mulder, what do you want out of life?" she asked, not changing the
subject, but not meeting it head-on either.

Mulder leaned his head back on the pillow, tilting his chin up so that he
looked at the ceiling.

"Aside from the truth that so ably eludes me?" He paused for a moment,
lacing his fingers together and propping them under his head. "What
everyone wants, I suppose. Happiness, success… love."

Scully let the silence parlay her understanding.

"Sometimes though, Scully… I feel like I'll never have those things.
Sometimes, I feel like I've run out of chances."

Scully took a breath and looked at him intently, willing him to meet her
gaze. "Mulder," she said, "the only time you run out of chances are when
you stop taking them."

Still cradling his head, Mulder turned to her, wanting to test her clouded
offer, but still too scared to commit to it. "Is that an invitation?"

She remained steady and serious. "Do you want it be?"

Mulder's chest tightened, and he clenched his jaw. 

The woman had said something about taking chances, right?

So he did. 

He looked over and made eye contact with her. He held it until their lips
met. He rolled over until he was flush up against her, his chest pressing
into her side, the force of his kiss pushing her head deep into the pillow.
She pushed back with equal fervor, moaning a little in the back of her
throat. A white-hot chill exploded in her center and rushed out to all ends
of her body like quicksilver. She moved her hands into his hair, trying to
pull him so close to her, that their bodies merging wouldn't be enough. She
didn't want to analyze this, she wanted to feel it.

Mulder moved his hip, insinuating his leg between hers and pulling her
closer to him with his knee. He splayed his hand across her stomach,
tracing her bottom lip with his tongue at the same time. She arched up
under him and granted him entrance. He took no time in using it. He plunged
his tongue into the cavernous depths of her mouth, not getting enough,
never enough, of her taste. She tasted of mocha and butterscotch, melting
on ice. Hot and cool, moist and sweet, amalgamating  his uncertainty and
trepidation into sheer bliss.

He damped down his heightened passion, slowly laving his tongue with hers
into a lazy, Sunday afternoon kind of kiss, like honey dripping down your
chin. He dragged his body slowly up hers, until his elbows rested on either
side of her face. He pulled back, bringing her bottom lip with him until
gravity pulled her head back to the pillow. He gazed at her, his eyes
flitting back and forth between her half-lidded, aqua-blue orbs. He leaned
back down, curling up above her and tucking his head underneath her chin. 

"Scully…" he whispered.

"I know, Mulder," she whispered back, pressing a kiss to the top of his
head, "I know."

He clenched his eyes shut, savoring the sound of her beating heart beneath
his ear, before unfolding himself behind her and pulling her in, spooning
her from behind, his legs still tangled in hers. He nestled his chin in the
curve of her neck and elbow, breathing out, long and thoughtful.

"I was always hoping I'd get the opportunity to do that," he said quietly.

"I was always hoping I'd get the chance to give it," she replied, laying
her hand over his and squeezing it.

Mulder hugged her tightly to him, then started to chuckle behind her.

Scully moved to maneuver to get a look at his face, barely succeeding in
doing so. "What?" She asked.

Mulder smiled, "I was just wondering if this meant that I have to start
riding in the basket on the front of your bike."

Scully chuckled with him, squeezing him back. "Don't worry," she said.
"I'll be sure I have plenty of Reese's Pieces in there for you."

"Thank you," he deadpanned. "That's very kind of you. I'll be sure to start
calling you Elliot at the office."

"Skinner will love it for sure," she laughed.

"There it is again," Mulder said, starting to trace patterns over her
shaking belly. "Keep laughing in the dark for me, Scully. Promise me you'll
do it for the rest of my life."

"I'll try, Mulder," she whispered back. "I'll take the chance."


THE END.
XxXxXxXxXxX

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