The Cheering Section
By Shoshana

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Any Thursday, August 1999
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey, Scully..."

"Yup," I answered, absorbed in a new case file on my lap.

"What cha doin' on Friday night?"

If the question didn't get my attention, the tone of voice certainly
did. His voice sounded tremulous, in spite of his best efforts to
control its timbre. I picked up my head and directed all my
attention toward his corner of the room.

"Well... nothing much, Mulder. Nothing yet."

I didn't want to own up to the consistent dullness of my Friday
night routine. Unless I was on a case with my partner, I would take
a long bath, eat a late supper and read medical journals till midnight.

Occasionally Mulder would give me a call, asking me about a case, as
if he needed an excuse to phone me. Those conversations, which would
range far and wide after his initial inquiry, and similar ones on
other weekend nights, were the high point of my dull existence
without work or family to occupy me. I looked forward to them, I
never spurned his company over the phone.

It was both safe and comforting. We were professional partners, but
always a little bit more than that. We were best friends, who could
always count on one another to be around. Although, the thought did
occur to me quite often that we were just two lonely people sitting
home on a weekend night. Well alright, that notion was evident every
single time we chatted idly about the minutiae of our lives.

We both had the good sense to never question the need for these
conversations, never ask one another why we weren't out painting the
town red with a date. Sometimes we'd joke about having dates around
work, but not during these calls. To have done so would have been a
cruelty to us both. It would have exposed our non-existent social
lives, which we were both aware of, yet rarely acknowledged to one
another.

"Wanna see a basketball tournament?" he asked carefully.

"Sure. Who's playing?"

"My Y team."

"I didn't know you were playing at the Y. When did you start doing
that?"

"Several months ago."

"Oh. Guess I'm not very observant, Mulder. I guess I should have
wondered where you were all those Friday evenings without me," I
grinned at him, pleased with my little jest.

He gave me an appreciative but tight smile back, lost in own
thoughts several moments. Then he said, "Yeah, well. It was either
that or the local strip joint, Scully. Basketball's less expensive."

I laughed and said "So what is this about Friday night?" I was
trying to get him back on track, I wanted to know more about his
secret life at the Y.

"Um, uh, we made the finals for the intramural leagues. I just
wanted to have a friend along to root for the team I'm on."

He seemed a little embarrassed now, reconsidering why the hell he
was asking me to come watch him play ball.

"I'd be happy to come," I said, realizing that it meant a lot to
him, that I was his best friend, perhaps the only woman he'd ask
along. It made me feel good, necessary to him.

I wasn't going to kid myself that it meant any more than that. I
wasn't going to get my hopes up there were any remotely date-like
vibes to this invitation. Even if he was thinking of me that way, he
would hide it from me all too well. He would never own up to
physical desire for me; he was always a gentleman and I saw no end in
sight to that. We were both expert at repressing desire. Years of
practice had made it second nature. Maybe too much so, I mused.

"O.K. Pick you up at 6?"

"Sounds great."

~~~~~~~~~~
Friday night
~~~~~~~~~~

The gym was large, barely filled with noisy, enthusiastic family
members and friends of the players. Mulder's team was composed of
seven men in their thirties, the opposing team seemed to be in their
late twenties. Two remained on the bench, anxiously watching their
team beat the crap out of their much younger opponents.

Mulder had introduced me to a couple of his teammate's wives and I
sat along with them. Well, actually we didn't sit much. We were on
our feet the whole time, screaming encouragement, whooping and
hollering when our team made a basket.

I couldn't help but feel a little awkward. The other men's wives,
girlfriends, significant others were there for them. And then there
was *me,* whatever category I fell into. A new one possibly, best
friend/crime-fighting partner. Something like that.

I banished the thought from my head and just concentrated on the
game, having the time of my life. I hadn't seen a basketball game
for years and I'd never seen one with Mulder in it. I was so proud
of him. They were trouncing their opponents by fifteen points,
running them ragged in the process.

Finally, they won. What our cheering section lacked in size, we
made up for in enthusiasm, warm hugs exchanged all around. Although
I had just met his teammates, they all seemed to know who I was,
greeting me as warmly as their significant others had a couple hours
earlier.

I wondered about that. Maybe it was true about locker room talk.
Or maybe I was deluding myself. He would only describe me to his
teammates as his partner, not implying anything else between us. He
had too much integrity to do otherwise. He would never embarrass me
like that. He'd probably never been very good at that kind of
masculine banter and he certainly wouldn't attempt to improve those
skills this late in life.

I felt comfortable with these people and gladly tagged along to a
neighborhood watering hole, smiles all around. I had nothing
alcoholic, but felt high with pride and companionship. I felt
accepted by this crowd, unlike situations with bureau personnel. No
one questioned my relationship to Mulder, no one seemed to really
care. I certainly wasn't Mrs. Spooky tonight, to my great relief and
surprise.

I hadn't thought about that lately, how annoying the rumors about us
were, how much I cringed when I heard the tail end of a conversation
in the john. People were cruel sometimes and I had just ignored all
the gossip about us. To the point of seeming aloof to others, I
guess.

Later, much later, Mulder and I sat in a small cafe in his
neighborhood, sipping coffee and munching on biscotti. Well,
actually he had just downed an entire meal, replenishing energy
expended during the game.

He talked endlessly about his teammates, telling me their
professions, their hometowns, their life stories. He seemed
inordinately nervous, as though the longer he could sustain
conversation about others, the better off he was. I felt there was
something he'd wanted to tell me. Something we'd both been avoiding
like the plague.

We weren't just partners anymore. And we were much more than best
friends. There was an inexorable change in the course of our
relationship and it frightened us both. We clung to what we had
between us, well aware of the consequences should we embrace any
change to the status quo.

I broached the relationship topic first, only meaning to tease, but
opening the door to much more than I ever imagined.

"Hey, Mulder."

He looked up from his coffee cup, where he had been lost in thought
for the last several minutes. "Ya?"

"All your teammates brought their wives and girlfriends. Why'd you
think of me?"

He looked straight at me, pain evident in his eyes. I'd put him on
the spot. I knew it and I regretted it as soon as I saw his
crestfallen expression. Why my boldness had emerged tonight, why I
had asked such a pointed question, I couldn't say. I was tired of
denying my own feelings toward this man.

I still couldn't express those emotions openly. I was playing a
little game here, trying to get him to slip up first, declare his
feelings somehow, someway. Then, only then, would I have enough
confidence to spill my guts to him. It was a cowardly strategy and I
felt remorse for my tactlessness, as my query hung stolidly in the
air between us.

"Why?" he said softly, his eyes changing from angst-filled to wistful.

"Well, yeah, uh, um. That's alright, Mulder. I, I shouldn't have
asked. Scratch that, O.K.?"

"No, Scully. I think I can answer your question."

"You can?"

"Sure. Um, uh, my teammates all have wives and girlfriends. I have
you. You're the one I wanted in my cheering section tonight. It
really made me happy to see you over there, having a good time
because of something I could give to you. I was proud to win for
myself and my teammates. But I felt most proud that you were there
to root me on. I dunno. That's it, I guess."

He studied his coffee cup again, cheeks flushed with what he had
admitted. Or not admitted, I speculated. He'd come very close
before, close to telling me how he felt about our relationship. This
was the strongest statement yet.

'I have you.' He probably thought he'd gone too far, said too much.
I wanted him to know that he hadn't. That he'd said just the right
words, the words that meant the world to me.

It gave me the courage I lacked before, and I said, "You'll always
have me, Mulder. Always."

His head popped up, startled by my words, anxious eyes searching for
answers in my expressive face. I was smiling, more broadly than
usual, disguising none of my feelings for him, liberated by the
certainty that he returned them in kind.

He grinned back, a glimmer of shy contentment in his eyes. He
chewed at his bottom lip, considering what to say. His eyes wandered
around the room, unwilling to focus. He was visibly choked up by my
statement, physically unable to respond with any customary, well
chosen words.

I felt queasy, I felt a tightening in my chest that matched the
amount of love I wanted to offer him tonight. I reached over and
took his free hand, stroking it softly with my thumb.

"Why don't I drive us home, Mulder?"

He stared at me from across the table, acutely conscious of what I'd
just said, and how open it might be to interpretation. His eyes
softened and he smiled back at me fondly. He shifted my hand in his
own, bringing it to his lips, kissing it with the lightest of
touches.

I shivered with the warm pressure of his lips on me, I felt a blush
of passion that I'd concealed so well till now. He undoubtedly
noticed, for he squeezed my hand softly, placing both hands between us.

I couldn't concentrate, couldn't look him in the eye. I was all out
of boldness, I was letting him exercise control of the situation.
Certainly I was sober as a judge, I was planning on driving us
wherever we needed to go. But I was eternally grateful when he
called the waitress over, paid the bill and gently guided me out of
the cafe.

We didn't stray far from the bright lights of the little cafe before
he gently took me in his arms and kissed me tenderly. He knew that
he was welcome to rest his lips against mine for the rest of our much
changed lives.

I said a silent prayer, thanking God for basketball, Friday nights,
and every minute of my past and future life with Mulder.

fin

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