Date sent: Tue, 31 Mar 1998 17:57:27 +0000 From: Lynn Gregg Subject:Grapes (1/1) MSR by Lynn Gregg Title: Grapes Author: Lynn Gregg Rating: PG Classification: VR Archive: Anywhere, just let me know Feedback: pythia@aye.net Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox Broadcasting. No copyright infringement intended. Summary: A light snack on a road trip leads to so much more. Notes: Of course it's MSR. Have I ever posted anything else? ************ Grapes by Lynn Gregg ************ "Another day in Paradise, huh, Scully?" Fox Mulder asked rhetorically as the road spun out before them. "Driving the back roads, ferreting out crime and conspiracy, chasing monsters, making the mean streets safe again...Kinda makes you feel proud to be an American, doesn't it?" "Kinda makes me feel glad I packed a lunch," his partner replied amiably. "There may well be wild work ahead for us tonight, but at least we'll go to it well- fed." "You packed us a lunch?" He was genuinely touched. "Scully, that was sweet of you. What'd you bring?" Scully opened the cooler between her feet and began rummaging around. "Bologna and cheese sandwiches on wheat bread, carrot and celery sticks, and for dessert, fresh strawberries and grapes." "Carrot and celery sticks?" Mulder's distinctive nose wrinkled. "Strawberries and grapes? You mean, raw stuff?" "What'd you expect? Ho-Hos and Ring-Dings and Twinkies?" "Sugar is an excellent source of quick energy," he pointed out. Scully snorted. "Fifty years from now, when you're reaping the rewards of late-onset diabetes, you'll be begging me for a nice big ripe succulent strawberry. And you know what? I won't give you any." She smirked. "Hmmmph," Mulder grunted, and drove. *** Half an hour later: The silence having become oppressive, Mulder flipped on the radio and commenced to sing. He sand everything, and not very well; and by the time he started wailing along with "MmmmBop," Scully was desperate for a way to shut him up. At a loss, she finally pulled the bundle of white seedless grapes from the cooler and dangled them before him enticingly. "Want a grape?" Mulder killed the radio. "Are we speaking again, Scully?" "I was never not speaking to you. Would you like a grape?" He tried and failed to pull one from its stem. "Damn it. Could you--" Scully plucked one free and held it out. Mulder gave her a sidelong smirk and murmured, "Feed it to me, Scully." Her eyebrow rose to new heights. "Are you coming on to me, Mulder?" "I might be. Depends on what kind of beverages you brought." Scully reached down and brought forth a large cobalt-blue bottle, dripping with condensation. "Iced tea, of course. With ginseng." Mulder's mouth dropped open, giving him the look of a beached fish. Scully took advantage of the opportunity and popped a grape into the orifice. He swallowed, with difficulty, and asked softly, "May I have another?" "You can have as many as you like." Pulling another plump greenish globe from its stem, Scully placed it into his mouth, letting her fingertip glide lightly over the curve of his full lower lip. Mulder started; the car lurched then lagged, and Scully laughed. "Watch the road or no more grapes, Fox." "Don't." "Don't what?" "You *know* what." "Oh, that. Sorry, Fox." "Stop it, Dana." "Mmmm, down to first names now, are we?" "Sculll-eeee..." Feigning a look of wide-eyed innocence, Scully selected another succulent fruit, rubbing it thoughtfully between two fingers. "You know, you never have told me why you so despise the sound of your first name. Confession time, or no more grapes." Her tongue flicked out, neatly flipping the grape into her mouth. Mulder groaned softly. "You want a confession, Scully?" he asked, in a tone of voice she'd *never* heard him use in all their years together. "All right, here's my confession: I hate the sound of my name on your lips because--it excites me. It turns me on like nothing else. I hated it when I was younger because everyone mocked me and made fun of me--but I hate it now because your voice turns it into...a caress. A prayer. Things I'm not allowed to have." His hands clenched the wheel, white-knuckled. "Why not?" Scully's voice was so soft as to be almost inaudible over the pulse pounding in Mulder's ears. "I don't know why not, Scully. That's the Hell of it. I suppose I've just become accustomed to wanting things I can't have: my sister, proof of the existence of extra-terrestrial life, evidence enough to bring the Consortium down for good, you..." That one final word hung in the air between them like a cloud of toxic gas. When it finally dispersed, Scully remembered the human need for oxygen and gasped in a harsh breath. Mulder sat stiff and silent, outwardly composed; only the flaming crescents of his ears betrayed him. "But Mulder," Scully murmured, when at last her powers of speech returned, "you already have me. Don't you know that? You've had me from the start." Her small hand pried the tense talons of his fingers from the wheel. He clung to her, still not daring to take his eyes from the road. "Have I?" he queried, voice ragged. "*Do* I?" "In every way but one," came the whispered reply. "And we could remedy that any time." The rental came to a skidding, shuddering stop on the shoulder. Their eyes locked and their bodies followed, crashing each into the others' embrace, clutching, clinging, laughing and crying at once, as the grapes scattered soundlessly at Scully's feet. *** If you love me, let me know: pythia@aye.net