Title:  Bored Games

Author: Vickie Moseley
Summary:  Sometimes it gets pretty boring on the road.  A little
harmless entertainment can help pass the long nights.

Category:  MSR, could be considered fluff, 3rd POV

Rating:  PG, but you can make it R with a decent imagination

Disclaimer:  Due to the fact that Chris Carter has abandoned his
characters from the first seven seasons, I am officially petitioning
to adopt them.  I'll be their 'family' and he can take his new play
toys and put them places the sun doesn't shine.  Of course, I will not
profit in any way from this transaction, but he'll make millions.  And
they say life isn't fair <G>

Comments:  I changed email addys so please note the new one
vmoseley@i-made-this.com

Further notes:  I had this beta read when I wrote it which was a while
back, so thanks to whoever that was (probably Susan, Dawn and
Sally-the usual suspects).

 

Bored Games

By Vickie Moseley
 

Podunk, Colorado
April 22, 2000
11:15 pm

It was Friday night, just a little after 11.  I'd just gotten off
work, and decided to grab one of the specials and have a bite to eat
before heading home.  Jerry, the late night cook, can't figure out how
I can eat this slop after slaving over it for 8 hours, but I look at
it this way.  It's free.  Right in my price range since Jimmy took off
with that slut barmaid and left me with the payments on a 1998
double-wide and that 32 inch color TV he couldn't live without at
Christmas.

Besides, I like the company.  I never liked living alone, which was
why I had a roommate until the unlucky day I married Jimmy.  But
moving back with my folks has never been an option, since they more or
less disowned me the day of the wedding, so I get my 'people watching'
after work, when I'm finally out of that sweaty, smelly kitchen.  Not
that the dining room is much better, mind you, but at least I'm only
shoving this crap into my mouth.

Erlene sat them at the table across from me.  A tall man, a real
looker, and this tiny red-head who looked like a good wind could blow
her to Kansas.  Erlene gave them menus, he ordered an iced tea and she
asked for a glass of water, with a wedge of lemon.  I looked around
the place, it was just the three of us.  Well, at least I had someone
to watch.

The minute Erlene gave them their drinks and left, he started in.  

"Scully, I can't believe you're being so stubborn about this," he
said, taking his straw and twisting it in to a pretty nice double
knot.  He had these long fingers on these really slender hands and I
think I would have paid money just to watch him tie his shoes.  

"Which part can't you believe, Mulder?  The part where I'm saying that
we have not discovered another 'zombie conspiracy' or the part where I
think we should pack up tomorrow morning and be home by tomorrow
night?" she torpedoed him back.  Wow, her look was as sharp as her
words.  But he just sat back, crossed his arms and smiled.

"The part where you won't let me stay for the Rockies game tomorrow
afternoon," he said with this big ole Cheshire cat grin.

She did every thing she could to not smile, including taking a big
swig of the water, and it almost choked her.  He just sat there, smug
as a bug and waited till she finished coughing and sputtering.  Then
she took a big breath and tilted her head.  I suspected he would be
walking funny and talking in a higher octave when they left.

"Mulder, we can't keep doing this.  You can't keep finding X Files in
cities with Major League Baseball franchises.  Somebody is going to
figure it out.  And then our asses are grass."

"Oh, like Skinner's gonna rat us out after that La La Land fiasco he
subjected us to," he snorted.  Erlene came back with a chef salad and
a cheeseburger and fries and they were polite as church mice in her
presence.  The minute she headed back to the counter, they were back
to 'dancing' with words.

"The mere fact that it might not be Skinner who 'rats us out' as you
put it, hasn't crossed your mind?  Kersh was not that happy when we
slipped the noose with him.  He could use this . . ."

"Scully, don't be such a worrywart!  Kersh is yesterday's news, he's
last Sunday's crossword puzzle with coffee stains all over him.  And
besides, I still contend that we're dealing with zombies," he finished
and took a big bite out of the burger, not bothering to lean over the
plate as the juice and mayo plopped on the table top.  She gave him a
look that would have frozen most men's hearts.  Or at least had them
cross their legs.

"Mulder, your table manners are degenerating," she growled.  He
shrugged and took another bite, but this time, he leaned over the
plate.  She turned her attention to the salad in front of her.

"So, wanna play some Scrabble when we get back to the rooms?" he
asked.  It seemed like a simple question, but it got a pretty strong
reaction.  She almost knocked over her water glass.

"Mulder, not here!"

"What?  I'm talking Scrabble, Scully.  Do you want to play or not?" he
asked again, and this time, she jumped and I caught a glimpse of his
foot running up and down her left leg.

"Mulder, you are seriously becoming addicted to Scrabble," she said in
a whisper that I almost couldn't make out.

"Scully," he answered, but he didn't bother to whisper.  He whined.  A
really annoying whine at that.  "People become addicted to all kinds
of things.  And you gotta remember, it's been a long time since I've
gotten to play Scrabble.  Eight long years!  That's a lot of unused
letters, Scully.  I'm makin' up for lost time."

She bit her lip and suddenly searched her salad for some good way to
answer that.  "Mulder, it's been a long time since I played Scrabble,
too.  But we played Scrabble yesterday morning and just two nights
before that.  How much is enough for you?"

He smiled that smile again, but this time, it was softer, more
appealing.  "I could never get enough Scrabble with you, Scully.  You
have to know that."  Then it was his turn to examine his plate. 
"Besides, I bet it's been longer for me than it has for you," he said
in the same whisper she'd used before.

She looked at him, and away again, up to the corner of the room. 
"Mulder, let's not start this.  I haven't played Scrabble since I
walked into the basement, some 8 years ago."

He nodded, but I don't think he was accepting her answer completely.

"But have you thought about it?"

"What?  Playing Scrabble?  Sure, and don't tell me you didn't think
about it, too, Mulder.  Remember, I know where you keep those videos
that aren't yours."  Her smile was big and warm.

"I mean, did you have a specific point where you contemplated playing
Scrabble with someone other than . .  . your current Scrabble
partner."  He gave this whole garbled sentence while counting the
points on his serrated knife.

She sighed and shook her head.  "Mulder, I don't want to . . ."

He cut her off.  "Scully, I'm not getting crazy here.  I know you
didn't actually play Scrabble.  I'm just asking . . . did you think
about it?"

"Why?  What difference does it make?  I didn't play, so it's a moot
point," she countered, tearing her napkin into little squares and
dropping them like confetti over the remains of her salad.

He wouldn't look in her eyes.  He wouldn't even look at her face. 
"It's OK, Scully.  I understand.  Really.  There was a point . . . it
was a long time ago, but I considered playing Scrabble.  I almost did.
I came this close," he said, holding his fingers only a breath apart.
"But it hurt so much, just thinking about it.  We set up the board
and counted out the tiles, but in the end, I couldn't think of any
words.  I didn't have enough letters to start . . ."

She was quiet for a few heartbeats.  Then she reached over and took
his hand.  "Did you tell me that because you want to know about
Philadelphia?"

He didn't open his mouth.  He stared down at their hands and nodded.

"Mulder, you have to get over this.  You're letting it eat you alive,"
she sighed.  He shrugged unhappily and then nodded, still not looking
at her face.

She took her index finger of her free hand and gently raised his chin
so that their eyes met across their hands.

"I never considered playing Scrabble with Ed Jersy, Mulder.  Not once.
Not even drunk.  OK?"

He held her gaze a long minute and then a smile broke across his face.
He nodded and brought her hand up to his mouth and pressed a kiss
into her palm.

"Now, backgammon, that's another story," she told him.  He dropped her
hand like a hot rock.

He sort of gulped air for a while, then he swallowed real hard. 
"Backgammon?"  Boy, his voice was really strained.  Like he'd been
chewing on the hot rocks and not just picking them up.

"Yes,  backgammon.  Surely, you've played backgammon, Mulder."

He wasn't breathing real good by this time.  "I played a little at
Oxford.  But Scully, I don't understand.  What's so great about
backgammon that you can't do with Scrabble?"

She caught the Cheshire cat smile of his and gave it right back to
him.  "Mulder, I know you understand the basics of both games. 
Scrabble is a game of skill and chance.  Backgammon is a game of
chance and skill.  But where a good Scrabble game might last an hour
or two, a really experienced backgammon player, one who truly embraces
the intimate details of the game, why she or he can make the game last
all night long."

I think he forgot to breathe altogether while she was talking.  He was
perfectly still for a long time, then he grabbed his half full glass
of iced tea and downed it in one gulp.

"So, do you happen to have a backgammon board with you, Scully?" he
rasped.

She smiled again.  "Why, as a matter of fact, Mulder, I do.  I got one
for myself right after New Years.  Sort of a late Christmas, early
birthday present."

"My birthday is only 5 months away, Scully," he said with a smile that
matched hers.  "But what about the ball game?  Can we play the game
around till then?"

"Mulder, you may not be awake till the seventh inning stretch," she
told him as she flagged down Erlene and got the check.

He dug out his wallet and threw down some bills without even looking
at the tab.  He ended up giving Erlene a five dollar tip on a ten
dollar meal, but I figure he was feeling pretty lucky and didn't mind
sharing in his good fortune.

They headed toward the door, his hand gently rubbing the small of her
back.  As I was about to turn back to my meatloaf, I heard the door
open as they left.  The last thing I heard him say before the door
clanged shut was "You know, Scully, I never really cared for the
Rockies that much.  Maybe we can just skip the game."

The end