~~** **~~
MISTLETOE MADNESS
By syntax6
Rated "E" for everyone

Dedicated to Amanda and bugs, who make my life merry and 
bright all year long.


For Mulder, the week before Christmas was straight out of a 
sarcastic holiday song -- each day brought him another 
unwanted surprise.  Sunday his car broke down, giving way to 
rear-end trouble as he left smoking metal parts scattered 
across the street in front of his apartment.  Mulder's 
insurance plan no longer provided him with a rental car 
option, after the time last year when a mutant shed body 
parts in the back seat of his loaned Taurus.  He was stuck 
borrowing the Gunmen's flower power van.  He was sure even 
the security cameras in the Hoover Building garage turned to 
gawk when he drove past.

On Monday, the dry cleaners ruined his favorite blue suit, 
the one with the just-right lapels and the secret pocket on 
the inside.  Mrs. Bunting apologized and agreed to reimburse 
him for the suit, but this new suit would never be the same.  
Instead Mulder was stuck wearing his dark brown suit, which 
was usually okay but this week reminded him of mud.  Like the 
sinkhole in the front yard he managed to put his foot through 
on Tuesday morning.

Wednesday he stopped for his usual morning coffee, canned 
Christmas music playing as the clerk in the droopy Santa hat 
wished him "Happy Holidays" with an open sneer.  "Yeah, same 
to you," Mulder replied, dropping his leftover seven cents 
into the tip jar one coin at a time.

By Thursday, Mulder had his head down and shoulders hunched, 
ready to plough through the holidays like a running back 
bound for the goal line.  If he made it to New Year's without 
killing anyone, he'd spike the ball and holler "touchdown."  

He barely registered the wreaths in the lobby or the gaily-
colored sweaters whizzing past on either side of him.  He 
grunted at the guard and lugged his briefcase through the 
metal detector, trudging straight down to the dim basement, 
where he almost missed the weed someone had nailed above the 
door to his office.

Mulder halted, peering at the weed with some suspicion.  He 
fished out his pocket flashlight and gave the weed the old 
"interrogation glare."  Round berries shone back at him, 
and Mulder finally identified his suspect: mistletoe.

He swung his head around to see if anyone was watching, 
waiting with a candid camera or some other prank, but the 
dark hall was silent.  No one ever came down this way but him 
and Scully.

Scully.  He whipped the light up again to examine the leaves.  
She had been the last one out last night, barely looking up 
from her computer as he muttered "good night."  He tried to 
imagine her dragging a chair over to the door way and 
standing on tiptoe to hang leaves and berries over their 
door.  Was this supposed to be some sort of hint?

Mulder stood as far back as he could and still manage to 
reach the lock on the door.  Then he ducked through quickly 
and flicked on the overhead lights.  Shedding his thick 
overcoat, he took his seat behind the desk and glanced over 
at the door.  Yep, it was still there.

It wasn't that he believed Scully was necessarily opposed to 
the idea of them kissing.  He was a trained investigator, 
after all.  He knew about clues.  He collected evidence.

The first time he had thought about kissing Scully was about 
thirteen seconds after he met her.  She had these big red 
lips and a smug smile that he wanted to bite right off her.  

The first time he'd ever contemplated that she might want to 
kiss him back was after the Eddie Van Blundht disaster.  But 
apparently to get to the kissing stage she needed wine and 
lots of talk about feelings.  Weeks later, Mulder had 
wandered around a wine store for about an hour, feeling 
totally inept as he studied the labels.  He figured if he 
couldn't even pick out a wine bottle, he was totally screwed 
when it came to the feelings.  So that idea went out the 
window.

The next time he wondered if maybe she might possibly somehow 
potentially want to get naked with him had been during a heat 
wave in Texas.  She came into his motel room, her skin 
glowing and her blouse stuck to her body.  She flopped on his 
bed and proceeded to yank out the tail of her shirt and undo 
the first four buttons from the top.  He caught a glimpse of 
a lace bra, and for just a second, he thought she might just 
keep right on undressing.  But no.  Turned out the air 
conditioning was broken in her room.

The most recent incident was just two weeks ago, while they 
were in Chicago.  He went into her room to see if he could 
borrow some toothpaste, and Scully was wrapped in her robe, 
fresh out of the shower.  She was brushing her own teeth as 
steam wafted around her.  He joined her in the small tropical 
room, feeling flushed immediately as he peeked at the velvety 
shadow between her breasts.  

"You have toothpaste," he murmured, and she raised her eyes 
to him.

"You need toothpaste?"

Well, yes.  But... "No, I mean you have toothpaste on your 
mouth.  Here."  He reached to touch the side of her mouth 
just as her little pink tongue darted out to swipe it.  She 
licked his thumb and Mulder felt it all the way to his toes.  
He could practically taste the mint.

But the moment passed and then she was raising both eyebrows 
at him expectantly.  Why had he come into her bathroom again?  
The toothpaste, of course.  Nothing more.  It was never 
anything more.  

Mulder tapped a pencil against the edge of his desk and 
glanced once more at the mistletoe.  Maybe this was the 
definitive sign he'd been looking for.  Maybe this was Scully 
saying, "This is how I want you to do it.  I'd like us to 
kiss in a cramped doorway under some poisonous berries while 
the security cameras capture the moment for grainy 
posterity!"

After all these years, Mulder was open to anything.

                     ~~** **~~   


Maggie Scully had always been a Christmas decorating fiend, 
so her daughter could spot a mistletoe bough from twenty 
paces.  This was approximately where Scully stopped, right 
near the stairs, and frowned at the green leaves decorating 
the office door.  

Very funny, Mulder.

She wondered what he would do if she took out her gun and 
shot it.  

Her shopping bag filled with wrapped packages was threatening 
to tip over, so she hoisted it higher on her hip.  This was 
the first December in many a year that she did not feel 
weighted down or frozen inside.  The ghosts of Christmas past 
had ceased their howling and quieted to tender memory.

This year, she was determined to enjoy the holiday season.  
So far the only thing standing in her way was the Grinch 
sharing her office.

Monday, she had bought a small potted Christmas tree to the 
office and put in on the bookshelf next to her table.  He had 
managed to knock it over less than an hour later, sending it 
sprawling as he searched for his "The Yeti: A historical 
reinterpretation" textbook.

On Tuesday she brought her Bing Crosby CD in from her car, 
thinking maybe they could play it on the boom box during 
lunch.  Mulder, wearing tennis shoes at the ends of his 
Armani slacks (she knew better than to ask) chewed his Turkey 
sandwich in angry bites as she pawed through the office 
rubble to find the radio.  Finally, she asked, "Mulder, have 
you seen our CD player?"

"Broken," he replied without looking up.

"Broken?"

"Ectoplasm incident two months ago."  She knew better than to 
ask about this either.

On Wednesday she asked him outright what was on his Christmas 
list because time was running short and she still had no idea 
what to buy.  What did one get for the man who had 
everything, including a 200 Horsepower hairdryer? "Let's 
see," he had said, holding up his fingers to tick off the 
items.  "So far, I need a new blue suit, a new pair of shoes, 
and oh yeah... a new car.  But don't head to the mall yet, 
Scully -- the week's not over."

He had systematically rejected her efforts at holiday cheer 
all week long, and today she arrived to find him mocking her 
with a sprig of mistletoe.  If he really expected that she 
was going to stand wistfully under the branches the entire 
day, hoping he would come over and kiss her, he had another 
thing coming.  After this week, he would be lucky to get a 
Christmas handshake from her.

Scully hefted her sack of presents, put her head down, and 
hurried through the doorway as fast as she could.  

Mulder sat up so fast his chair nearly rolled out from under 
him.  "Morning," he blurted.

"Morning," she replied, still not looking at him.

"Lot of presents you have there."

She did not answer.  He stood up.

"You need a hand with that?"

"No," she said, a little more forcefully than she'd intended.  
The last thing she needed was him dropping her mom's crystal 
vase.  "I mean, I've got it.  Thanks."

He gave a short nod and returned to his chair.  "Slow day so 
far," he informed her.  "Lots of people already gone for the 
holidays I guess."

"It is that time of year."

"Yeah."  He fiddled with a pencil.  "You going up for the 
party later?"

Was he serious?  She looked at him for the first time, half 
expecting to see evidence of a head injury.  "Do we ever?" 
she asked.

He shrugged.  "First time for everything..." he said, and his 
gaze wandered in the direction of the doorway.

She blinked at him for a second.  God, he must really think 
she was an idiot.  "Just what does that mean?" she asked, 
squaring her shoulders.

"Nothing.  Just, you know, things that happen, if they happen 
multiple times, one of those times has to be the first time.  
It's a law of physics or something."

"There is no law of physics like that, Mulder."

He scowled.  "Forget I said anything," he said, and pulled 
his chair closer to his desk with a hard yank.

Scully rolled her eyes and sat down as well.  They worked in 
total silence for about a half an hour, when the phone on her 
desk rang.  "Hello?" she said.  She could feel Mulder 
watching her.  "Yes, sir," she said.  "We'll be right up."

"Skinner?" Mulder asked when she hung up the phone.

"He wants to see us about the Moldeski paperwork," Scully 
said.

Mulder stood too.  "Why did he call you?  He usually calls 
me."

"Probably because he knows who fills out the paperwork," she 
replied, annoyed.  They walked toward the door.

Oh, no, Scully thought, drawing up short before they hit the 
mistletoe.  No way.

Mulder halted too.  "What's the problem?"

"After you," she said.

"No, you go ahead," he insisted.

"Mulder."

"What?"

"Would you please just go?"

"I'm right behind you, Scully."

She could feel herself turning red.  "I hate you," she told 
him, and hurried through the door.  She heard his footsteps 
behind her.

"Hey, what did I do?" he protested. 

After Skinner's office, she took a detour by the ladies' room 
on the way back so they did not do the mistletoe two-step in 
the doorway again.  When she returned, Mulder was sitting 
demurely behind his desk.  She deliberately did not look at 
the mistletoe on her way into the room.

In fact, she did not look at it all morning.  Neither did 
Mulder.  He kept his head down, typing away on his computer.  
He did not act like a man who wished to kiss her under the 
mistletoe.

Scully risked a quick peek.  The leaves were just barely 
visible from this angle.  They looked like the real deal.  
Mulder had gone all out.

At lunchtime, he took out his usual sandwich and began 
chewing.  She had watched him eat about a million times over 
their years together, but today, for some reason, she could 
not stop looking at his mouth.  When his tongue came out to 
lick the crumbs from his upper lip, she almost yelped.

"Scully?"

"Hmm?" she replied, jerking to attention.

"Do I have mustard on my face?"  He looked down at his shirt 
and tie.

Mustard.  If they were to kiss under the mistletoe, he would 
taste like mustard.  She liked mustard.  Mmmm.  Mulder and 
mustard...

"Scully?"

"Hmmm?"

He looked concerned.  "You okay?"

This was all his fault, she thought, growing annoyed again.  
A few green leaves and berries and she got all moony.  She 
sat up, redoubling her efforts to ignore Mulder and his 
mistletoe.  No doubt if she did go stand under the door, he 
would just leave her there, looking like an idiot.

"I'm fine," she told him primly, and took out her own 
sandwich.

~~** **~~	~~** **~~

As the hour grew later, Mulder began to doubt Scully's 
motivation.  Why bother to go to the trouble of hanging up 
mistletoe if you had no desire to stand underneath it?  Maybe 
it was a joke.  Or maybe she was just waiting for him to make 
some sort of obvious sign.

Mulder bit his lip and regarded her out of the corner of his 
eye.  She had finished up her paperwork and appeared to be 
playing "Mine Sweeper" as the clock ran down on the day 
before Christmas.  He figured now was as good a time as any 
to make the obvious sign.

Mulder glanced anxiously at the mistletoe.  He could go over 
and stand beneath it and try to look adorable.  He tried to 
guess what Scully might consider adorable.  His tie was 
clean.  His shirt was tucked in.  Mulder ran his tongue over 
his teeth; no food seemed to be lodged anywhere.

He got up from his desk and walked towards the door.  He 
swore he saw her stiffen.  At the last second, he lost his 
nerve and swerved left towards the filing cabinets.  Scully 
looked up at him, her brows knit in her best "Mulder what the 
hell are you doing" expression.

"Mulder," she said as he started rifling through the nearest 
cabinet, "what the hell are you doing?"

"I need these," replied Mulder, yanking out a stack of random 
files.

"What for?"

"For review."  He slammed the drawer shut, and Scully's mouth 
closed as well.  She shook her head and returned to her game.

Great.  Now he had to actually look at the files.  Mulder 
glanced down at the sheaf in his hand and was suddenly struck 
by a brilliant idea.  

Ambling in the direction of the door, he pretended to stumble 
and sent the files sliding across the linoleum floor.  
"Crap," he said for effect.  He began picking them up, 
peeking back over his shoulder to see if she was watching.

She wasn't.

"Mind giving me a hand here, Scully?" he asked hopefully.

"Looks like you're doing just fine."  She seemed determined 
not to look at him at all.  How the hell was he supposed to 
give her the sign?

Mulder lingered around near the mistletoe for a few more 
seconds before retrieving the files and heading back to his 
desk.  He was beginning to think Scully didn't want to be 
kissed at all.  He was beginning to think this was some sort 
of stunt to see just how stupid she could make him act in 
eight short hours.

"Just so you know," he told her, "I am going to go back to my 
desk now.  I don't plan on getting up for the rest of the 
day."

Scully raised her eyebrows at him.  "I appreciate the 
bulletin, Mulder.  I hope there will be future updates as 
events warrant."

"Just thought you should know."  He sat down with a flourish.

Scully shook her head again.  Then she stretched and stood 
up.  His pulse rate spiked as she started towards the 
mistletoe.  "Well, as long as we're sharing," she said.  "I 
am going to the ladies' room.  I expect to return at oh-
sixteen hundred hours in case you want to synchronize 
watches."

Just as she reached the door, Skinner appeared on the other 
side, practically bumping into her.  "Agent Scully," he said, 
sounding uncomfortable.

"Sir."  Scully turned the same color as her suit.  

Mulder narrowed his eyes.  Maybe *this* had been the plan all 
along!  He noticed Skinner was making no move to get out from 
under the mistletoe.

"I know you two generally skip the festivities upstairs, so I 
thought I would bring a bottle down here," Skinner said.  He 
handed Scully the red wine.

"Thank you, sir.  That's very kind of you."  Scully made a 
beeline for her desk, and Mulder felt a stab of relief.  At 
least she hadn't been angling for a Skinner smooch.  That 
would have been the ultimate ending to his week of Christmas 
horrors.

He stood up and echoed Scully's sentiments.  "Thanks.  Can we 
get you a glass?"

Skinner waved him off.  "I've got to get going.  You two 
should do the same.  No one will miss you."

"Thank you," Scully said, keeping a safe distance across the 
room.  "Merry Christmas, sir."

"Merry Christmas, agents."

He left and Mulder grinned over at Scully.  She was still a 
little pink.  "Stop it," she told him without meeting his 
gaze.  "You think you're so funny."

"Me?  It would serve you right if he did plant one on you."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about that little joke you have going with the 
mistletoe."

"My joke!  You're the one who stuck it up there, Mulder, not 
me."

He shook his head.  "Scully, I couldn't tell you where to buy 
real mistletoe if you held a gun to my head."

"Tempting," she muttered darkly.

"Besides, you're the one decking the halls around here!  I 
half expected to see a live tree and an orchestra in the 
corner this morning.  Instead, I get in and I see *that* 
hanging on the door.  What was I supposed to think?"

"That I hung it?  You really thought that?  You think I would 
stoop to mistletoe at the office.  Jesus, Mulder, if I wanted 
you to kiss me, I'd..."  She stopped herself, but it was too 
late.  The words were already out there.

"If you wanted me to kiss you'd, what?" He moved from behind 
his desk.

"I-- nothing."

"No, tell me."  He took another step.  His eyes were intent 
on hers.  He could see her pupils dilating, saw her neck bob 
as she swallowed.

"Mulder," she whispered in warning, trying to hold him off, 
but he kept his slow advance.  He could smell her perfume 
now.

"Tell me, Scully," he said, his voice low.  "I can't guess 
anymore.  If you wanted me to kiss you, you'd...?"

Her blue eyes grew luminous.  Her chin quivered.  "I'd... 
I'd..."

"Yes?"  They were inches apart now.  His ragged breath fanned 
over her face.

Scully swallowed again.  "I'd say 'kiss me, Mulder.'"

The words had barely left her mouth when grabbed her head 
with a hand on either side.  He held her still with gentle 
pressure as he lowered his lips to hers.  She held her 
breath, trembling a little in anticipation.

He barely touched her mouth the first time, just a feather-
light touch on her parted lips, a test to make sure he was 
welcome.  She sighed against his mouth and he kissed her 
again, his thumbs rubbing over her temples as his mouth moved 
over hers.

Heat broke over the back of his neck and he urged her closer.  
Scully's hand came up between them, her small fingers 
stroking over his tie right around his bellybutton.  They 
kissed and kissed until finally the need for oxygen broke 
them apart, leaving them gasping and a little dazed.

Scully covered her swollen lips with the back of her hand and 
regarded him with wide eyes.  Her hair was mussed and her 
blouse was ruffled and he wanted nothing more than to hear 
her say the magic words again.

"Mulder," she said, throaty and sexy.

Mulder licked his lips.  "Yeah?" he breathed.

"I hope the camera guys went home early."

He laughed then, full and deep, and tugged her against him.  
She buried her nose against his chest as his fingers found 
the silky hairs at the back of her neck.  "Going home early 
sounds like a good idea to me," he said.

She peeked up at him. "We do have a bottle of wine."

They each moved quickly then, gathering overcoats and papers 
and one bottle of red wine on their way out the door.  Mulder 
slung his arm around her shoulders as they walked.

"Scully," he said, "have you ever wanted to see the back of 
Frohike's van?"

				~~** **~~  ~~** **~~~

Later that night, as Mulder and Scully took turns being 
naughty and nice, a man and a woman unlocked their office 
door for cleaning.  The woman went to fetch the garbage cans 
to empty into the large rolling bin they carried with them, 
but the man stopped her.

"Irene, look," he said, his voice rich with teasing.  
"Mistletoe."

The woman looked up and then slapped him lightly on the arm.  
"Jack, what are you up to now?"

"I'm stealing a kiss from my girl."  He grabbed her wide hips 
and pulled her tight against him.  Irene kissed him good and 
proper before pulling away and slapping him again.

"I can't believe you, going around putting up mistletoe down 
here.  What if someone caught you?"

"No one comes around here much."  He nuzzled her again.

"Well, now you need to take it down."

"Can't," he said.  "It's Christmas."

And so it was.

~~** **~~

The End.

Notes:  At night in bed, I tell myself stories.  Sometimes 
Mulder and Scully are in these stories.  Very occasionally I 
write one of them down.  This is one of those occasions.

Merry Christmas to all who celebrate!

Cheers, syn

Syn_tax6@yahoo.com