Game
By Shoshana
     
     "Hey, Scully. Would you come over to the Library of Congress
with me today?"

     "Why, Mulder? So you can deface more library books?"

     "No, no. Not at all. I have some legitimate research to do on
some hauntings in Rhode Island circa 1900. Local newspapers exist,
but they're all on microfilm and it's a labor intensive task that I
was kinda hoping you'd help me with...please?..." Soulful puppy dog
eyes pleaded with me. How could I resist? Anyway, it was an excuse
to get above ground and out of the basement for awhile and I'd always
loved the Library of Congress building, with its brightly colored
murals and marble floors.

     We stood in line patiently waiting for our items to appear at
the call desk. Mulder filled me in on the details of the case in a
low, library correct voice, sparing me none of the more bizarre
details of the tale. An older woman behind us had initially tried to
ignore his narrative, but was soon listening attentively despite
herself. When we finally signed for our reels of microfilm, I
glanced back and saw that look on her face, the look I'd seen so many
times before when Mulder tries to tell anyone remotely sane about our
work on the X-Files.

     We sat down at side-by-side study carrels and I easily threaded
one of the reels onto my machine. I looked over at Mulder, who
appeared to be having some problems with the equipment.

     "What's the matter?"

     "Uh, Scully, I haven't used one of these older machines for
awhile, can you help?"

     Now this surprised me a bit, considering how many times I had
seen him use all kinds of research equipment in the past, but
nonetheless I rose and walked over behind him. Since he declined to
get up, my mind raced to only one conclusion: he's faking it. He
just wants me to have to lean over his large, obstructive body and
show him how to thread the damn thing. Well, alright, Mulder. Let's
make this interesting...

     I reached over his shoulders, took the reel in hand and placed
it on the left side of the machine. This was one lesson I was going
to prolong, I thought, as I slowly threaded the machine through the
glass at its center, all the time invading Mulder's personal space
and whispering instructions as close to his earlobe as possible. I
knew he could feel my warm breath on his cheek and I was savoring the
thought that I might be tormenting him a bit in my own delicious way.
 
     Once the machine was ready, he smiled up at me and said, "Thank
you, Scully. That was very nice of you."

     Stunned at such formal words of gratitude, I was further
convinced that he was never in need of any assistance, at least not
the kind he had requested. He just was playing a game, much as I had
the other day when I pretended that I hadn't played baseball in
years. That was definitely a half-truth. I didn't want to tell him
what a fine athlete I had been in high school, that I had lettered in
softball. I'd just wanted to make Mulder happy, happy that his
"birthday gift" was appreciated. So I didn't reveal my stellar
abilities of days gone by. Anyway, I hadn't picked up a bat in
years. No way would I own up to my past glory, I was going to play
innocent and unschooled in the mysteries of baseball, so that we'd
have some not so innocent body contact behind the plate. I never
dreamed that he'd catch on to my ruse and I still felt safe in my
ever so white lie.

     I browsed through the films and finally discovered some
articles pertaining to the case. I decided that before I called him
over to my carrel, I was going to make sure he'd get an eyeful,
something to shake him up a bit. Fortunately, and by mere
coincidence, I had worn something a bit low cut, something with lots
of buttons down it, this morning. A few subtle adjustments revealed
more than enough cleavage to disconcert my curious partner. Two
could play this mischievous game, and I was more than ready for some
patently unsportsmanlike behavior.

     "Mulder, come look at this! I've found some news articles
about the hauntings!"

     He got up from his seat and leaned close to me, pretending to
glance at the material projected on the machine. I could feel his
warmth on my back, his breath tickling the nape of my neck, and his
hands gently kneading my shoulders. I could tell when his eyes
strayed southward when those magic fingers seemed to grip onto me a
whole lot tighter, in unison with the heightened pulse rate thrumming
through his wrists.

     Mulder cleared his throat before replying scratchily, "Yes
Scully, I see that now...um...excellent sleuthing...um, make some
copies will ya? Please..."

     He gave both my shoulders a friendly squeeze before sitting
down at the other machine, disguising his arousal with some
difficulty and feigning fascination with whatever was on his screen.
I felt evil. I was truly enjoying this, wasn't I? And I am not one
for doing things halfway, oh no. I pretended to rummage through my
change purse for money to make copies. I then rose, stole behind
him, and assertively placed my hands on his shoulders. He flinched,
not expecting the gesture, clearly unnerved by my presence and
intrusion on his space. He turned around and questioned me, "Uh,
what's a matter, Scully?"

     "Oh, I just wanted to tell you that I'm going to go get some
change for the machine. Anything else I can do for you?" I said, as
sultry as I dared.

     "Nope, nope. Nothing right now, Scully," he said in short,
clipped tones.

     I gave his shoulders a tiny squeeze and strolled just two steps
away, before hearing him add, "But I may have something in mind for
later, Scully..."

       I shot him a disapproving glare, followed by a warm, knowing
smile. He grinned boyishly, clearly enjoying our playful banter.
As I blithely walked toward the dollar changers, I thought I heard a
low chuckling behind me. I certainly was enjoying this game, I
thought. I'd stay on the playing field, for now.

fin