"Last Dance At The Black Lake Diner" (1/1) by CazQ
(CazQ@tesco.net)


CATEGORY: UST/mood piece
RATED: PG for language
SPOILERS: Nope
SUMMARY: A late night on the road, a diner, some coffee,
an invitation...

DISCLAIMER: OK, repeat after me...they're not mine, never
were or will be. Mulder, Scully and everyone/thing else
connected with the X Files belongs to 10-13, 20th Century
Fox, and of course The Boss, Chris Carter and all his partners
in crime. Hey, I'd let them have a lot more fun. No copyright
infringement or insult intended. No money will be made
out of this and I have none so suing me would do no one
but the lawyers any good.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:  This one came outta nowhere late at
night and wouldn't let me go to bed until it was out of
my head and onto the hard drive. Never happened to me
before but it was kinda cool . I don't know the name
of the song featured here (if anyone knows please mail me,
I'd love to know), I just know I've heard it around
somewhere and thought it was really sexy ;). I'd
really appreciate feedback at the above addy: its the
gift that keeps on giving.

Muchos gracias as always to jerry and Kristy, my kick-ass
beta team, for editing services rendered. I wouldn't make it
this far without you, guys.


--------------------------------------------

"Last Dance at the Black Lake Diner"  (1/1) by CazQ


"May I have the pleasure of this dance, ma'am?"

Scully looked up from her rapidly cooling cup of coffee
into the unfathomable eyes of the man across the table.

"Mulder, it's the middle of the night, we have two
more hours driving ahead before we get to the airport,
we're sitting in an empty diner in the middle of nowhere..."

"We're in Black Lake, actually, Scully. Didn't you read the sign
on the way into town?" He held up a matchbook and tapped
it with one long finger. "See, Scully? The Black Lake
Diner. For a federal investigator, you're not real quick
on the uptake."

She sighed, refusing to rise to the bait, trying to
visualise the tension in her body flowing out of her with
her escaping breath. "Maybe that's what I get for
trailing out to the middle of farming country, five hours
from anything approaching civilisation, doing three
autopsies in a row in a pathetic,ill-equipped excuse for
a proper morgue, not sleeping or even getting a proper
meal for over 24 hours and then finding that there is no
case here, never was, and I could have spent the weekend
at home with a movie and a pint of Ben and Jerry's. Plus I
now have to come up with a report that doesn't make this
whole jaunt look *too* ridiculous when we see Skinner on
Monday morning. "

She let her head drop forward and kneaded ineffectually
at the painfully tight, knotted muscles at the back of her
neck, hating herself for the shrewish edge she had heard
creeping into her voice, praying that he had not heard it
that way.

"I, uh...I thought you slept in the car..."

"Mulder, you always think that when I want you to. I
never sleep in cars."

"Oh. O-kaaay...so you're rejecting my exquisitely polite
offer?" He gave her the damn puppy-dog eyes and the slight
pout. Like that look's not getting old, Mulder, she thought sourly,
unwilling to admit that it still made her breath catch in her throat
to see it.

Instead of answering him, Scully simply sighed again,
utilising the "Mulder give it up already" example from
her impressive range of sighs, and turned back to staring
at her field notes, willing the words to enter her brain and
maybe even make some sense. Silence, for a blessed minute...

"Would it really kill you, Scully? I'm not gonna tread on
your toes."

She raised her head and opened her mouth to answer, and
then she caught sight of the look on his face. Damn. It
appeared that Perky Mulder had gone off somewhere in
search of other women to charm, and left her sitting here
in the neon quiet of the diner with Mercurial Mulder. His
hair was tousled where he had been pulling his hands
through it...



Dammit. She looked down, unable to stand the sensation of
his gaze burning into her skin, branding her. She met his
eyes and saw that they were dark and hooded, his jaw set.
So, she wondered, what did I do this time?

"Mulder, I just...there's a time and a place for
everything, okay? Not now. Anyway, I don't dance to
country music: it's in my employment contract
somewhere," she informed him, waving a hand at the
gleaming jukebox squatting in a corner, trying to keep
her tone light.

This was fascinating really, from a purely objective,
scientific standpoint. For a split second Mercurial
Mulder disappeared and High School Mulder was staring
down at the tabletop, dateless for the prom and trying
his damndest to pretend that he didn't care, sure, fine,
whatever. Then that flicker of the young, vulnerable
boy-man was subsumed and Mercurial Mulder was back.

She had to admit, of the many Mulders she was privileged
to know, this one was pretty high up there on the raw sexual
magnetism stakes. It was like being in a room with a tied up
dog, one of those big, wolf-like ones, not having any idea
whether it was about to bite you or just lick you to death and
oh Jesus, suddenly that leash doesn't look real strong...

This was the Mulder trying his best to bore a hole into
her skull with his eyes. He was...unreadable, emotion
flitting across his face too fast to read, showing in the
minute muscular tics and lines only she was alert enough
to see at all. Okay, in the privacy of her own thoughts
she'd admit it -- seeing him like this always pumped a
little splash of adrenaline into her system. It was the
anticipation of trying to guess what he'd do, say, think
next. Alright, she thought, I'll bite, Mulder: what's
eating you tonight?

"Scully, forget it, okay, I'm sorry I asked, it was
stupid. You wanna get going or what? I'm done."

"Yeah, sure, whatever, Mulder. I guess I'm about done
here." She drained her cup, grimacing as she swallowed
the last lukewarm mouthful. She set it back down on the
formica and slid out of the booth. "Listen, I'll get it
this time. You want me to get you another iced tea to go
or something?"

He shook his head, a tiny motion speaking of immense
weariness, and started fiddling with a sugar packet, his
fingers working at it restlessly. She made her way to the
counter and leaned her weight on it while she waited for
the bored teen behind the counter to settle their bill.
Some impulse made her turn and look at Mulder. He had
shredded the sugar packet and abandoned it, and now, as
she watched, he picked up her empty cup and cradled it in
his hands, turning it this way and that, staring at it
the mark of her lipstick on  the rim as though it might
yield the secrets of the universe, before leaning his
forehead against his joined hands and letting his eyes
slide shut.

Scully had a sudden and strong sense of having missed
something during their little exchange at the table,
something nameless, indefinable and incredibly important.
She felt very tired now, not just the tiredness of a body
running on empty, but a deep weariness of the soul,
washing over her. She had an urge to sink down onto the
floor and shut her eyes for a long, long time.

Dammit, Mulder, she thought, we're getting too old for
all this. She wondered exactly what 'all this' was, as
the kid behind the counter returned with her change.

She realised that Mulder had already slipped out of his
seat and gone out to the car. Walking down the diner
steps, she stopped for a second to fill her lungs with
the fresh, cooling air coming off the lake. There was a
crescent moon, she saw, lying drowned in the lake, thin
and silver like a sickle. Her eyes wandered to their car
and she saw Mulder, slouched in the driver's seat, head
resting on the wheel, a hunched shape of darkness. She
wondered briefly which Mulder she was about to join in
the car, and then with a surge of almost primal
possessiveness that took her aback thought, doesn't
matter, they're all mine, all my Mulder.

"Mulder. Mulder, get out of the car."

His eyes opened at that, and he sat up and shook his head
no at her through the glass. She opened his door and
stood looking down at him. "Scully, you're not driving.
You're way too tired, don't tell me you're fine..."

"Mulder," she interrupted him, holding out one small
hand, white in the moonlight, "get out of the damn car."

He shrugged and aquiesced, unfolding his long body out of
the seat and then leaning back against the car, towering
over her as always, even in her three inch heels. He was
silhouetted against the light pouring from the diner, his
face shadowed except where the pale light reflecting off
the lake caught his features. Those eyes, glittering in
the darkness.

"Well, Scully, I'm out of the car. What are you gonna do
with me now you've got me here?"

A small shiver ran through her as those words sunk in.
She took a deep breath and met his stare.

"Dance with me, Mulder. Please."

"Here?"

"Here."

"Who's asking?" The slightest trace of a smile on his
lips.

"What?"

"You heard me. Who's asking? Dana, Special Agent Scully,
Dana Katherine Scully, M.D....who's asking?"

She wondered if he could see her shock at how closley his
thoughts paralleled hers of just a few minutes ago. She tried
to read some clue from his face, but at that particular moment
Mulder was wearing his "I could play pro poker tournaments
in Vegas", special FBI issue blank face. She locked gazes
with him again, licked her dry lips and replied, "Me. Scully. I'm
asking."

"Then I'm dancin'," he said, giving her one of those big,
toothy, one hundred watt grins and taking her hand.
Before she had time to wonder just how silly this whole
idea of hers was, he had pulled her into his arms, one
hand draped low around her waist, the other clasping hers
gently, holding it over his heart. He was warm and solid
and Mulder, and their bodies seemed to fit instinctively
together.

They swayed slowly together for a minute, without music,
without speech, and then she felt Mulder's warm breath,
dangerously close to her ear, stirring the wisps of hair
against her neck. His voice was low, honeyed gravel, and
she realised with a thrill that he was singing, just loud
enough for her to hear.

"You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off
of you," he crooned, low, slow, sensual, "you'd be like
heaven to touch, I want to hold you so much, at long last
love has arrived..."

They moved fluidly together to the song, and she rested
her head against his chest, listening to the steady
cadence of his heartbeat, letting out a sigh that was
entirely new to her repertoire, ever after to be
catalogued in her mind as the 'dancing with Mulder' sigh.
When he ran out of words he swiched to a soft humming
that vibrated deep in his chest, passing into her body
where it pressed against his, so that his song passed
directly into her, through her skin and flesh and bone.
It was a time outside time, outside rules, outside
pretence. She wondered if this was what he had been
asking her for in the diner, and then she stopped
wondering and gave herself over to feeling, absorbing,
sensing.

Eventually, reluctantly, she drew back a little, keeping
her hand loosely in his for a moment longer before
releasing it. "We should...uh, we should probably get
going, Mulder."

"Yeah," he muttered, drinking in her face with his eyes,
"get going. Good idea." He made no move to get back into
the car though, just stood and stared, so she gently
brushed past him and slipped into the driver's seat.
*That* got a reaction, as he protested that he was fine,
he could drive for another hour or so, honestly Scully,
get out of the car...

"Mulder," in the voice she had learnt from listening to
her mother shepherd four unruly redheads through
childhood, "I'm driving. It's fine, really fine. Get in."

Knowing when to admit defeat, he shrugged and went around
the other side of the car. As she started up the engine,
he laid a hand over hers on the wheel.

"Scully?"

"Yeah Mulder?"

"Thank you. For asking me."

"Thank you for saying yes," she whispered, gripping his
hand for a long second, unwilling to relinquish its
wamth.

He nodded, and then, apparently satisfied, leant back
against the head rest and watched her as she drove,
simply bathing her in the warmth of his gaze as they
headed towards the sunrise and the next in a long
procession of airports, check-in desks and planes.

Just watching...and to her surprise, Scully discovered
that she was content to be watched. For that time, in that
place...it was enough. It was enough.

FINIS
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