This is a companion piece to Some Enchanted Evening. I did this with my Wonder Twin's permission and approval because it's gotten so bad that I just have to defend poor Mulder in these situations. Synopsis: Mulder has a date. But is 'tonight' the night? Warnings: No spoilers except the first couple of seasons, no sex, no real romance, some UST, and some naught words--I keep washing his mouth out with soap, but he seems to like the taste of it. Disclaimer: 10-13 and 20th Centurty Fox owns all of this. I'm doing this behind their backs, shhhh, don't tell them, OK? And I'm not making money off anything I'm doing at the moment, why should this be different? You should read 'Some Enchanted Evening', not because you need to for this story, but because it's a great story. Comments to me--vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com Tonight, Tonight by Vickie Moseley A very short vignette that is a companion piece to Some Enchanted Evening By Summer The time I got shot in the leg in Raleigh, North Carolina and the EMT bounced me on the ER exam table. The time I almost froze to death on the ice in Alaska and I forgot my mittens in the goddamned submarine. The time I woke up with a lungful of fireflies and the knowledge that Scully was gonna skin my ass for dragging her to the woods. Yes, I have had worse evenings. Well, maybe ‘worse’ is too strong a term. Evenings that rank up there as ‘just as bad’. It was my own damned fault. Each of those times. I should have known better than to yell ‘Federal Officer’ to an unknown and unseen assailant whom I already had decided was two tacos short of a combo meal. And taking off the gloves just so I could handcuff a being that could morph into a fucking earthworm if he wanted to was just plain stupid. And we don’t even discuss the trip to Washington State, unless Scully is in a really raging bout of PMS. But I have *some* rational excuses for those occasions. There were all in the line of duty. Well, not the Alaska thing, maybe, but the others all were. Asking the new receptionist out to dinner and then ending up eating at her place was NOT in the line of duty. It was, and is, monumentally stupid. My hormones on overdrive. Stupid, stupid, stupid. It’s all Scully’s fault. She started this. She’s the one that had to go out and get a date, for cripes sakes! I was perfectly happy with the latest shipment of videos in the little back room, but no, my partner goes out and interacts with other humans, thus forcing me to do the same or appear like a goddamn asexual circus freak. Boy, am I gonna let her have it on Monday! Jeanette’s talking again. The food. Oh yeah, the food. Sure, it was scrumptious. I didn’t know there were so many ways to fix tofu. I’ll have to get the recipe--great way to torture someone for information. Bean curd them into submission. Yeah, great. God, how can so much fluff come in such a gorgeous body?! I guess I really have learned nothing from watching ‘Bay Watch’ all those nights. Let’s see. We’ve talked about her apartment--I always thought women grew out of ‘Precious Moments’ stuff by fifth grade. My mistake. We’ve talked about work. She sits at the reception desk. God, how did she pass the rigid entrance exam for something that mentally taxing? Be good, Mulder. I can hear Scully now. Just because the woman is blonde does not mean she’s an air head. Right, Scully. And who told me the one about why a blonde wears padded shoulders? So she doesn’t give herself a concussion when she goes ‘I dunno, I dunno.’ Or How do you drive a blonde crazy--put her in a round room and tell her to stand in the corner. How come women can get by with those jokes and men get castrated for even thinking of them? Jeanette is ‘talented’, though--I have to say that much for her. A body that won’t quit--eyes the shade of blue raspberry icees, but that could be contacts, and it looks like the kind of lipstick that demands to be removed--physically, with a lot of moisture. That dress is definitely a plus. A neckline that stops just above the waist--yeah, I have to admire a designer who could think that one up. A credit to his gender. I should be decidedly hot and bothered by now. Not just bothered. I do not believe this. I’ve gotten too old to enjoy casual sex. This can not be happening to me. What is the hold up here? She’s beautiful. She’s a goddamned cheerleader all grown up. She’s tall enough that we could actually lay down together and I wouldn’t have a kink in my neck in the morning. And she is giving me the look that says in the next few hours, clothing is optional and breakfast is definitely in my future. And I can’t seem to get excited at all. Not true. I can get a little excited. But not YES YES YES kind of excited. More like, gee that would be OK, but I really need to feed the fish kind of excited. It’s all Scully’s fault. She harps on me all the time. Casual sex is for the 70’s, Mulder. Sex in the 90’s is taking you life in your hands. If she only knew-- But damn it, I never signed on to the priesthood. I’m not even a fucking Catholic! Is it so wrong to want a little companionship, a little tenderness, a little caring in my life? God, I sound like one of those razor blade commercials! I am tired of being intimate with paper and plastic--it makes me cringe everytime I bag my groceries. I want a woman! I just don’t want Jeanette. It wouldn’t be so bad, really. I mean, what are we talking here? A nice evening, she looks rather athletic. Those legs could go around me twice and still have some left over. It’s been some time since I’ve ‘experimented’ with some of the more gymnastic positions--it could be a load of fun. And then, around two or three in the morning, I’ll wake her up with a screamin’ meemie of a nightmare and she’ll get all concerned and before you know it, we aren’t just having casual sex, we’re in a ‘relationship’--except I don’t want to be in one of those with her. Then I’m dodging her phone calls, and coming in the garage entrance so I don’t pass her desk. Before long, I’m running into the men’s room every time I hear her voice in the hallway. And Skinner is giving me those ‘you thoughtless cad’ looks again like he does when I ditch Scully and end up busted. At least Scully will understand. After she’s over being pissed at me that I have someone and she doesn’t. She just doesn’t get it. I don’t WANT anyone right now. Well, no one that I don’t already have in my life. It’s not my fault women see more in these things than men do. She’s right about one thing--most of us are in it for the sex. Sorry, Scully. Whip me with a cat-o-nine tails. Just do it in leather, OK? Whoa, she would kill me for that one. But somehow, even just the sex doesn’t seem worth it at the moment. I am getting a headache that would kill a horse. It’s the tofu. I always knew that stuff would cause great bodily harm. It’s sapped my libido and given me a headache and now all I want is to get the hell out of here and go home and sleep on my couch. Jeanette wants to move to the living room. OK, well, there is no easy way to do this. Let me see. The other night, Scully made me call the restaurant so that she could escape the ENT from Hell. If I could reach my phone-- But it requires that Jeanette leave the room. No, that won’t work. Why the hell did I get rid of that pager? I could sneak my hand in my pocket, turn it off and then turn it on again real quick. It would beep loud enough to wake the dead and I could fake an emergency and LEAVE. It was great. But I stopped using it and the battery ran out and now I can’t even find it to turn it in to Property Management so I can get the damned deposit back. I just have to keep requesting batteries for it so they don’t notice I don’t have it any longer. I should buy another one and turn that one in. Or keep it and use it for nights like tonight. God help me if I ever put myself in this position again. This headache is really getting bad. That’s it! Illness. What woman wants to play ‘hide and seek’ with a guy who just puked all over her bathroom? That always impresses the ladies. Scully just loves it when I toss my cookies. She gives me that ‘you have no self restraint at all’ look. The one that usually follows with the ‘I can’t take you anywhere’ look and sigh. Yep, I should upchuck more often. But I really do hate to throw up. And I am not yet desperate enough to stick my finger down my throat. Nope, scratch that one off the list. However, all is not lost. If I have to listen to the entire soundtrack from ‘Evita’ which she’s putting on the CD, I just might lapse into a coma and the EMT’s can take me home. OK, get it together, man. You can do this. You aren’t quite ready to gnaw your arm off so that you don’t wake her when you leave in the middle of the night, so you better get your shit together and get out while it’s still safe to do so. If I could think around this pounding in my head. How about a small electrical fire? I could fill the bathroom sink with water and throw her hair dryer in it. But with my luck, I’d get splashed and electrocuted and I have a feeling the insurance sharks would be all too happy to cancel me over that one. I’ve been told that I’m not to get within ten feet of any electrical appliance if I’m sweating. Hmm, the street light is out in front of this building. I didn’t notice that when I came in tonight. If I squint, I can almost see the stars-- That’s it! How could I be so stupid. OK, just relax. Bide my time, I can’t rush these things. Jeanette? Do you see those lights in the sky? You don’t? Oh, it’s probably nothing. Yeah, a plane. Are you in National’s flightpath? It’s not a big deal. But hey, now there are two of them. Look, over there, just above the tree line. It looks like they’re hovering-- Geez, Jeanette, I can’t pass this one by. Yeah, I’m sorry. You know how it is. I can’t let a sleeping UFO lie. But this was nice. I mean that. Sure, I’ll call. We’re out of state next week, but I’ll see you in the building sometime, right? I had a great time. Thanks for dinner. And Jeanette? Don’t ever lose that dress. the end