TITLE: August, 1998

AUTHOR: Tabula Rasa

FEEDBACK: Nothin' better:  tabulaxrasa@yahoo.com

DISTRIBUTION: At will.  A note would be appreciated, though--I save them like feedback.

KEYWORDS: V, flickfic. Yeah, you heard me.

RATING:  Mostly harmless.  PG-13, for kicks.

SPOILERS: The End, FTF

DISCLAIMER: Chris and John and Spots and Vince: we all know who really makes this.

SUMMARY: "Yes" he nodded, then peered at her.  "Are *you* drunk?"

NOTES: I wasn't on-line when the movie came out, so I think I'm entitled to some flickfic.  Actually, I was in a Diana-bashing mood.  My favorite.  The title's not unoriginal, it's a literary allusion!!  And no one else read this, so it's all my fault.

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     It was August in the District of Columbia, and it felt good to be drunk.

     Scully hadn't allowed herself this in a long time--she'd never really liked the feeling before, but tonight it felt good.

     She raised her hand and knocked on the door.  She realized it was Mulder's door, and wondered how she'd ended up here.  She was drunk, why had she gone to see Mulder?  Because when he was drunk, he had come to see her?

    She knocked again.  He would be alone, he would have to be alone, because she was here and Diana Fowley was still in the hospital.  Scully smirked.

     The door opened, and he stood, blinking at her in surprise.  She blinked back.

     He was wearing that gray t-shirt and jeans, and some part of her brain that wasn't drunk reacted to this with dismay.  He was swaying in front of her, unsteady on his feet, but she wasn't sure if was his fault or hers.

     "Mulder."

     "Scully." He waited for a moment before adding, "would you like to come in?"

     She nodded and pushed in, shivering.  His apartment was freezing, too much of a contrast from the muggy heat outside.  She stopped abruptly when she saw his coffee table adorned with vodka and turned to face him.  "Are you drunk?"

     "Yes" he nodded, then peered at her.  "Are *you* drunk?"

     Scully was vaguely offended, but since she *was* drunk, she had no reason to be.  "Yeah" she admitted.

     Mulder nodded, processing this, then sat down on his couch.  He looked tired.

     Something in Scully's mind was desperately trying to tell the rest of her that you shouldn't put two drunk people who try to kiss each other in the same room.  The other part wasn't listening, though.  Or maybe it didn't care.

     She stood on the other side of the coffee table and looked at him, arms crossed over her chest.  She shivered again.  "It's cold in here." She hated the cold.

     "Sorry.  The air conditioner's broken.  It's better to have it on then off, so I didn't want to mess with it.  You can open the window to let in some hot air, if you want."

     Scully turned to look at the window with the masking tape marks on it.  "Or you could just continue talking, " she suggested.

     He stared at her, his mouth open in shock.

     She gave him a little smile, but it must have reached her eyes, because a grin took over his face.  Give him an inch...

     "You can sit down" he gestured at the part of the couch that was empty.  "But maybe you prefer being at eye level."

     She scowled at him, but it only seemed to please him.  Mulder was slouched down, so she was considerably taller then him, and she pointed this out.

     He grinned, in the most infuriating/intoxicating way, his gaze traveling up and down her body.  Scully shivered.  "God forbid you'd ever forget to contradict me, Scully."

     That wasn't what she'd meant at all.  She felt tired.  Scully let her arms drop, curling her hands into fists.  Her finger tips were cold.  She wondered what Mulder would do if she pressed her cold fingers against his stomach, under his shirt.  His skin would be warm.

     And that, she reminded herself firmly, was the second reason she couldn't sit next to him.  The first reason was that they were both drunk.  The third reason...well, she couldn't remember the third reason, but it was good.  The fourth reason was that if he kissed her, she would probably kiss him back.  And the fifth reason was that Fowley person, although that might have been the third reason, too.

     What had he said to her, when she left him?  Did she make him a whole person, too?  He probably didn't try to kiss her, because they were already sleeping together so it wouldn't have much of an impact...

     Scully swallowed, hard.  She wasn't drunk enough.

     Obviously, Mulder had had some time to work on his "Please don't leave me" routine.  After all, she, Scully, had not left, while she, Diana, had.  Diana and Dana.  That bothered her.  She wondered if it had bothered Mulder, too, and that's why he called her Scully.

     She looked at Mulder, who was still slouching with his head back against the wall.  It was hard to tell if he was watching her or not.

     She shivered again, and clenched her fists.  Mulder was *hers*, goddamnit.  And Fowley was still in the hospital, where she belonged, that...Bitch.

     Despite the best intentions of her brain, she found herself sitting heavily on Mulder's couch.  He grunted as she jostled him.  She wasn't touching him, but she could still feel how warm he was.  She rubbed her cold fingers together.

     "Do you want a beer?" he asked.

     "Do you have any left?"

     "Ha-ha" he lurched up and into the kitchen.

     Scully sat and contemplated stripping while he was in the kitchen, so that he would come back to find a naked Scully on his couch.  But then he came back and she was glad she hadn't, because she wouldn't have gotten very far.  She would have her jacket off but that was all, and that would give the entirely wrong impression.

     Besides, she remembered, depressed, he had already seen her naked.

     Mulder sat back down, closer then before, and handed her a beer.  She sucked on it and looked at him out of the corner of her eye.  She could smell him now.  She wanted to bite on his neck until it left a mark everyone could see.  Ah ha!  That was the real third reason not to sit next to him.

     Poor Mulder.  Vulnerable to sexual assault at any moment and completely unaware.

     She frowned and rested her beer on her knee.  Time to change the subject.  "So.  When's Agent Fowley getting out of the hospital?"  Oops.

     Mulder looked surprised.  "She was released yesterday.  She called me."

     Scully felt dizzy.  That wasn't supposed to be.

     "I gave her a ride home" Mulder continued, because he was an idiot.

     Scully shrank away from him.  "You gave her a ride home?  Why?"

     The look he gave her made her feel small and mean.

     "No one should have to take a taxi home from the hospital, Scully" he said.

     Oh.

     He cocked his head to the side, thinking about it.  "Unless you're in New York, maybe, and every one takes a taxi all the time."

     No one should have to take a taxi home alone from the hospital, Scully thought.  She understood.  Mulder hadn't gone to see Diana in the hospital at all.  Whereas, when she, Scully, was in the hospital, he wouldn't leave her side, not unless her family was there and he felt like he was imposing.  She thought about the way he yelled at the hospital staff when he was looking for her, and she smiled.

     "Mulder?"

     "Scully."

     She stopped.  She had been going to ask a question, but he had already given her the answer.

     "You've seen me naked!" she accused instead.

     Mulder, completely startled, opened and closed his mouth several times before coming up with an answer.  "I didn't look!"

     That wasn't what she wanted to hear, for some reason.  She glared at him.

     Mulder looked flustered.  She liked it.  "You've seen me naked...three times, anyway" Mulder pointed out.

     "That's different" Scully took a carefully timed drink.  "I'm a doctor.  And you had boxers on."

     "I fail to see how it's different" Mulder answered, "and even if there are some special rules about that, sheer number on your side makes up for it.  And how do I know you didn't look?"

     Scully gave him a mysterious look and took another drink.

    "We could settle this right now" his voice became low, and she swore she could feel its vibrations.  "Even things up.  I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours."

    She turned away from him, too quickly, and she tried hard to adopt a disinterested air.  "Sorry Mulder, not interested.  It's too cold in here.  Maybe if your A/C wasn't broken, we could work something out."

     Mulder scowled straight ahead and lifted his bottle, running the rim along his bottom lip, using it to tug his lip down.  It was obnoxious. Or something.

     She inched closer to him.  The air was cold, and he was warm.

     "Mulder."

     "Scully."

     She wished he would try to kiss her again.

     They drank their beers and pulled heat off each other.

     "Why do think they didn't assign us to the X-Files?"  Mulder was finally asking the hard questions.

     Scully sighed and leaned her head back, letting her eyes drift shut.  "Because Spender--" she had to be careful here-- "is part of someone's agenda?  Because *we* are part of someone's agenda, and always have been?  Because they want you to quit the FBI, so not only are they taking away what you want, your life's work, but taunting you with it by giving it to a rival?  Who the hells knows, Mulder."

     "Wow" he looked at her, his eyes wide with admiration.  "Do you like vodka?"

     "No."

     "Neither do I, really" he sighed.  They ended up doing shots of vodka when the beer ran out.

     After a while Mulder decided to take a nap, apparently achieving unconsciousness almost immediately after stretching out on the couch.  Scully laid out next to him--well, she intended too, but he took up all the room on the couch.  So she laid on top of him.

     Nice, she thought drowsily.  He was warm, and her hands were still cold.  She slipped them under his shirt, pressing her cold fingertips against his warm stomach.

     He grunted and his stomach pulled back from her touch.  She smiled, and rested her head against his chest.  She pulled her hands out from underneath his shirt and rearranged it, smoothing the soft cotton over his abs.

     He shifted and wrapped his arms around her, one hand slowly rubbing up and down her arm.

     Deep within her mind, red alert sounds were going off, but Scully ignored them.  When was the last time she'd felt this good?  She wanted to purr.

     Mulder rubbed his face against her hair.  "Scully" he whispered.

     Scully rubbed her body against his, pleased as her buzz increased.  She was afraid to move her leg and find his erection.  More afraid that she would move her leg and not find it.

     His neck was right by her face; she could give him that hickey now, if she wanted.  She blinked her eyes, their lashes brushing against his skin.

     Mulder began to snore.

     Scully hesitated, unsure if she wanted to laugh or cry.  She decided to join Mulder, and sleep.

***

We have come to the end in peace.

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