Getting Out of the Kitchen

by Mary Kleinsmith

Continued from Part 1

Back to work again, but an hour later their comparing of notes was

interrupted by the rarely-used loudspeakers, booming throughout the building. "In accordance with the federal government's decision, made thirty minutes ago, to try to help the power company through this crisis, the air

conditioning units in all federal buildings will be turned off effective

immediately, and lasting until the end of the business day. Should the

excessive heat continue tomorrow, the air conditioning will be run in

two-hour cycles, on from 8:00 to 10:00, off from 10:00 to 12:00, and so on,

for the rest of the business day. All air conditioning will be turned off

completely from 5:00 pm until 8:00 am. We appreciate that this will be

uncomfortable, but the power company expects that there will be widespread

blackouts if the power consumption is not curtailed. Thank you for abiding

by this new directive."

There was silence in the office, while Scully and Mulder simply stared at

each other. Finally, Mulder spoke. "Do you realize that our office just

went from being the hottest room in the building to probably being the

coolest? At least the basement will keep the temperature from climbing like

it will on the upper floors."

"Think that we're about to become very popular?" Scully questioned, realizing what would happen as soon as people started to think.

"It's very likely. Let's make an agreement right now. This office is for me and you. Nobody comes in and takes over our space. There are other areas on this floor they can use if they want, but not this one."

"That sounds rather cruel," Scully commented with a whisper.

"They could have given us a nice office on an air-conditioned floor years

ago, especially after this one burned down, but did they? No. We're finally getting rewarded for our patience."

"You're right, of course." She shut the door and locked it with a sardonic

grin; anybody coming in here would have to get permission first.

**

Their minds attuned to one another, they stifled their respective smiles as

they tried to ignore their recent arrival. Having a third occupant in the

small office made for cramped, hot quarters, but it wasn't like they could

turn him down.

But it wasn't his mere presence that was amusing them. Continuing to work in their comfortable summer clothes, Scully tried not to let out a giggle as the dress-code-abiding Skinner shed first his jacket, then his tie.

Unbeknownst to Skinner, whose attention was fixated on his own paperwork,

Mulder typed on his own keyboard. "Think we should remind him that he's breaking the dress code?"

The instant message popped silently onto Scully's screen.

"Not if you value your life or your career."

"I almost feel bad for him. Want to bet how long it'll be before the dress

shirt goes?"

"No bet on that. But I'll bet you $5 that it's unbuttoned within a half hour."

"Nah. If he goes that far, he'll take it off entirely and just wear the

T-shirt. So are we on? $5?"

"$5 is nothing - it's only money. How about something a little more fun.

When I win, we leave here tonight, stop to pick up supplies, and spend the

evening at the beach."

"Okay, but who says you'll win. If I win, we head for the air conditioned

comfort of a movie theater and a restaurant."

"You're on."

If Skinner noticed the distinct rhythm to their typing - first one then the

other, never at the same time - he didn't let on as he wiped the dripping

perspiration from his bald plate once again. Rising for a break, Mulder

asked, "I'm headed for the soda machine. Anybody else care for a cold drink?"

"Anything as long as it's diet," Scully said, sliding a dollar bill to him

across the desk.

Skinner looked up gratefully as he dug a similar bill from his wallet.

"Anything cold, Agent. Thanks."

"Sure you don't have a preference, Sir? You really look like you could use

it."

"Cola, Mulder. Happy?" Mulder tried not to laugh as the man looked up at

him. Skinner's glasses were fogging over from the heat coming off his body.

"Good choice," the agent said as he left the office. It never occurred to

him to worry that Scully would cheat on their bet by telling Skinner. It was just not in her to do it - he knew her at least that well.

Returning as quickly as he could, he resisted holding the ice-cold can to his face or his neck. That would help temporarily, but it would also warm the soda just that much faster. He handed Scully her can first, then gave the Pepsi to Skinner, who smiled gratefully. A smile from Skinner - would

wonders never cease?

What came next surprised him even more. "Agents, I want to express my

appreciation for your letting me work in here. It's like an oven upstairs.

I know it's not exactly your idea of a good time."

"It's no problem, Sir," Scully said, remaining the more diplomatic of the

pair. "We don't mind your being here at all."

"Besides," Mulder added with a grin, "now, when we inevitably disagree on how to write things up, you can serve as tie breaker." He feared the ribbing would fall on deaf ears, and was pleasantly surprised when Skinner chuckled back.

"I don't know, Mulder. I'm not sure you'd like the way I'd vote most of the

time." As he said it, he held the can to his forehead, basking in it's

cooling influence. Not wanting it to get warm, though, he quickly lowered it and popped the top . . .and jumped a mile into the air when the soda spurted out all over him. His shirt took the brunt of it, and Mulder smiled to himself, thinking that the director would HAVE to remove the dirty shirt now. Victory was within his grasp - he could almost feel Scully sitting close beside him in the movie theater.

"Damn!" Skinner exclaimed, grabbing for the tissues that Scully handed him,

trying to mop up the worst of the mess. He unbuttoned the outer dress shirt, blotting the smaller stain on his undershirt.

And then, he retook his seat. Mulder's face fell in disappointment. Fifteen minutes left, and Scully was winning. Well, an evening at beach, watching the sunset, wasn't that bad a prospect.

The seated Skinner didn't go back to his paperwork. He was busy studying his favorite pair of agents. "Listen," he said finally. "I know I gave you a hard time earlier about the dress code, and I'm sorry. While I agree 100%

that decorum must be maintained and that the codes of conduct are important,

letting the rules slide on occasion is the least compensation we can make

after making you slave away down here in the basement, with no real

amenities. You two deserve better. I guess I didn't realize until this

afternoon just how uncomfortable it is down here."

"You should be here in the winter," Mulder said, not to make him feel guilty

but to agree with the man. "I've been known to need an ice scraper to remove the pen from Scully's fingers." It was an exaggeration and they both knew it, but it didn't matter.

"Well, at least this afternoon you can finally say that you have the most

comfortable office in the building. It's 4:00, and I'm calling it a day - I

suggest you two do the same. I'm sure you can find some better way to spend

a summer's evening." And picking up his jacket, his tie, and the shoes

neither agent realized he'd taken off, he bid them goodnight and left the

office. The cola and sweat-stained dress shirt unbuttoned but still firmly

in place.

**

Returning the empty containers and soda cans to the cooler, Scully glanced at her watch. They were sure to be treated to a lovely sunset in just a few

minutes. She loved the feeling of the sand between her toes, and wondered if Mulder did the same. Probably, since the first thing he'd done when they

arrived at the beach was to shed the sneakers and socks he'd worn at the

office. The second thing he'd done was notice that there wasn't anybody else on the beach as far as the eye could see.

"Scully, what is this place?"

"Well, technically, it's a private beach, but I went to school with the

owner's daughter. We had great summers on this beach, and our parents didn't have to worry about their little girls being picked up by any Tom, Dick, or Harry who happened along. The only people on this beach were those we invited here."

"And where are they now? Your friend and her parents, not those you

invited," he stipulated.

"Annie's parents passed away in a car accident a few years ago, but she still owns the place. She's a doctor, too, but with a much busier practice than mine, so she doesn't get out here that often. Such a shame . . ."

"Maybe you should drag her out here for some R&R." He leaned back on the

arms propped behind him and, closing his eyes, tipped his head back. "God

knows, it feels good to me."

"Better than a movie and dinner in a restaurant?"

"There's no comparison, especially now that it's cooled off a bit." He

chuckled. "Who'd have ever thought I'd be calling 85 degrees 'cool.'"

"But are you disappointed you didn't get a big meal?"

"Dinner was perfect, Scully. It was too hot to eat anything heavy anyway."

He remembered the single stop she'd made between work and the beach - a

wonderful Italian take out place where she picked up the most wonderful

antipasto he'd ever had. "I wouldn't have changed a thing. Remind me to

thank Skinner for keeping his shirt on!"

Scully laughed aloud at that. "Poor Skinner. Just when he thinks he may

have you figured out, that one will REALLY spook him!" She realized that it

was becoming more difficult to see her partner half-lying in the sand beside

her. "Ooh, it's almost time." Rolling onto her stomach, she concentrated

all her attention on the distant horizon.

Imitating her position, he was drawn to the beauty of the pink and red hues

as the sun slowly dipped out of sight, a faint light finally the only

remaining sign that it was ever there at all. Or, perhaps, it wasn't the

sun's remnants, but the foretelling of the moon that let him continue to see

the beach, and the sand, and Scully.

Suddenly, she was on her feet, and Mulder knew his face showed his

disappointment that she was ready to leave so soon. "You must be tired," he

commented.

"Not a bit, actually. I'll be right back." She walked towards a collection

of large rocks near the water's edge, and he realized that they had been out

here for several hours, drinking water or soda the entire time. You didn't

need to be a rocket scientist to figure out what the purpose of her walk was. He was just grateful she wasn't ready to leave yet.

Seconds passed, and then minutes, but there was no sign of her return. He

was beginning to worry when a loud splash from the vicinity of the rocks drew his attention, and he rose to his feet for a clearer look. What was that?

The shadows made it impossible to see, but he thought perhaps it was a large

flying fish or even an otter. But it could easily be something more

dangerous - something against which Scully could not protect herself in her

current situation. He drew up short at the water's edge when he realized it

was no otter. Long, thin limbs belonging to neither sea creature nor fish,

but to a much more sophisticated form of swimmer.

"Mulder, it's beautiful out here. Come on in!" His body wanted to surge

into the surf, but his mind kept his composure.

"I didn't have a chance to grab my suit before I left the apartment this

morning," he said, knowing she could hear his even tone, the beach was so

quiet. He wondered briefly if she'd mind his getting her car seats wet

should he wear the cutoffs into the water.

"Neither did I," Scully said, smiling as she rose from the water enough for

him to see the now-sparkling moonlight reflecting off her bare shoulders.

She laughed at his shocked expression. "It's the ONLY way to enjoy a swim in the ocean," she added as he moved for the cover of the rocks. His cutoffs and the tank top found a resting place beside the crop top and shorts as he made his way to join her in the rolling surf. Maybe 95 degree days weren't so bad after all.

The End.