Work Text:
The break room outside the bullpen provides perfectly adequate coffee, but on this particular Friday morning, Dana Scully requires good coffee. She deserves freshly ground Arabica beans, damn it.
After her official reprimand for the Dallas bombing, being transferred to Utah, resigning from the Bureau to avoid said transfer, nearly kissing Mulder, contracting an unknown virus and being taken to Antarctica (where Mulder performed a truly mind boggling rescue), Dana Scully has been dealing with a lot. A decent cup of coffee is truly the bare minimum.
“Hot enough out there for ya?” The barista asks when Scully reaches the front of the line.
Scully gives the man the same noncommittal, tight-lipped smile that she has given the last three people who commented on D.C.’s oppressive late summer heat wave.
“Two medium coffees with half and half, please,” she orders.
“Would you like those over ice?” The barista offers. “We’ve been selling a lot of iced coffee today.”
“No thank you,” Scully frowns, trying to imagine how coffee might taste over ice. It seems to go against the natural order of things.
After procuring two hot cups of coffee, Scully makes her way into work more or less unscathed. She’s sure her hair has seen better days, but a little frizz is nothing to get worked up about. It’s not enough to shake her confidence today, that’s for certain.
Today she’s making her move. With Mulder. Finally.
This state of limbo and uncertainty will drive her insane if she doesn’t clear this up. Dana Scully is going to directly address the hallway incident. She’s going to be brave and confident. No more wondering if Mulder’s speech was a declaration of love or the world’s most flowery peer review. She’s going to talk to her partner tonight and sort it all out.
She is 90% sure that she’s going to do it. She probably will. There’s a very good chance of it. At least 80% odds that she will talk to Mulder and get clarity tonight.
She had tried to talk to him a few weeks ago in Arizona, tenderly letting him know that his objectively insane rescue mission had not escaped her notice. He hadn’t responded how she had hoped, but the chill between them had been steadily thawing in recent days.
“Hey, you brought me the good stuff,” Mulder says as she hands him the coffee. Scully smiles, knowing that he appreciates the gesture.
“We need it to get through another day of background checks,” Scully muses, taking her seat across from him.
They settle in, beginning their work in companionable silence. The background checks are rote and require little brain power. This leaves Scully time to mentally rehearse how she will ask Mulder to come by after work. He might be a bit surprised since they haven’t been particularly social recently. However, she’s sure it will be a welcome surprise. She’ll be confident, casual, intriguing, and he will say—
“Hello Fox.”
Nope. That’s definitely not it.
Scully’s head swivels in the direction of the offending sound. Oh no. Not her. Not today. Of course Diana Fowley would show up right now. Why wouldn’t she? It’s not like Scully can ever catch a break. The Universe seems to enjoy throwing her off kilter.
“Diana, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Mulder asks, his tone light but containing a notably ambiguous amount of sincerity.
In fact, Scully detects a hint of sarcasm. She may be imagining things, but the tiny optimistic drop of hope blossoms in her chest. Perhaps Mulder finds Diana less bewitching than Scully had previously inferred.
“I’m afraid that the air conditioning in the basement is out of order,” Diana sighs. “It was positively sweltering down there.”
“We always seemed to manage, didn’t we, Scully?” Mulder flashes a quick smile in Scully’s direction. She responds with a grimace that could only be considered a smile with the most generous of interpretations. Somehow, smiling feels incongruous with being in Diana’s presence.
“Well, I must not possess your Herculean powers to work in inhuman temperatures, Fox,” Diana demures. “I’m resilient, but I prefer not to test my mettle unless absolutely necessary.”
Diana takes the seat closest to Mulder, the one Scully had intentionally left vacant so that they wouldn’t be right on top of each other. It had seemed like the proper thing to do. With so many curious agents alongside them in the bullpen, Scully felt inclined to dispel any longstanding rumors that she and Mulder were perhaps a bit too close. Apparently Diana Fowley has no such qualms about stirring up the rumor mill.
“This cool air feels so refreshing,” Diana remarks, removing her blazer to reveal a sleeveless, cream colored, silk shell blouse. She bends her elbows out and places both hands to the back of her neck to give her hair a little toss. Doing so also makes her breasts protrude and bounce ever so gently.
Scully refuses to check to see if Mulder is watching.
“Have you contacted Maintenance about that air conditioner, Agent Fowley?” Scully inquires, hoping that Diana’s time in the bullpen will be brief.
“The basement is not exactly a high priority,” Diana replies, waving her hand dismissively. “Hopefully they can get to it by the end of the day.”
Scully’s eyes narrow in suspicion. She has half a mind to go confirm the air conditioning story herself. She wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to find it in perfect working order. Unfortunately, doing so would make her look insanely petty.
Scully decides not to let Diana get under her skin. She takes a breath and gets back to work, dialing the next number on her list. She notices that Mulder simultaneously picks up his desk phone and begins asking routine background check questions. It’s comforting to know that they’re still a team. They’re still Mulder and Scully, perfectly in sync, even if it’s just doing grunt work.
Not to be outdone, Diana picks up the phone and makes a show of asking to speak to the sheriff of some tiny town in the middle of nowhere.
“How many apparitions were involved?” Diana asks loudly, scribbling down notes. “Fascinating. And there’s physical evidence you say? An unidentified substance at the scene?”
Scully watches Mulder as he pretends not to listen in on Diana conversing about an X-File right in front of him. Scully finds it incredibly insensitive of Diana to rub Mulder’s face in a case that she knows damn well he would love to pursue himself. It’s downright cruel really to dangle a case in front of him, without any chance of him being able to investigate.
“Fox, you’ll never believe the case that just fell into my lap,” Diana coos the first chance she gets after Mulder hangs up the phone.
Rude.
“This may be quantifiable proof of spectral activity,” she continues.
Mean spirited.
“I would love for you to come with me to see it.”
Braggart—wait, what did she just say?
Scully looks to Mulder, horrified to discover that he actually seems to be considering this offer.
“Come on Fox, it’s Friday,” Diana goads, rolling the office chair slightly closer to him. “Use a few vacation hours and join me. Kersh never has to know you were there.”
Diana places her hand on Mulder’s bicep. Familiar alarm bells screech through Scully’s brain, the kind of visceral wrongness with the universe that only she seems completely attuned to:
Alert. Someone else’s hand on Mulder. Alert.
Mulder throws Scully a sheepish, pitying little look, and Scully realizes that he is seeking forgiveness for what he is about to do. Oh, good Lord. He’s actually going to do it. He’s going to say yes and go gallivanting across the country with Diana Fowley. They’re probably going to share a motel room. This is happening.
“Excuse me,” Scully says, knowing that she’s being abrupt and awkward but not caring at the moment. All that matters is getting away from Diana and Mulder. She heads straight into the woman’s washroom and enters a stall. There is no plan yet beyond “escape.”
That 70% chance that she was going to be upfront with Mulder tonight about her feelings? Well, those odds just decreased dramatically since he’s not even going to be available. Scully cannot help but feel hurt and disappointed.
Compounding her humiliation, the door opens with a flurry of ongoing conversation that Scully feels certain has everything to do with her.
“She’s just so obvious and childish,” a woman’s voice sneers. “Did you see the way she stomped off? It’s honestly pathetic.”
Had Scully actually stomped? She thought she had merely briskly walked.
“I feel bad for her,” replies a voice Scully recognizes as Agent Carla Sanchez. “Someone should really pull her aside and explain the situation so she doesn’t embarrass herself.”
Carla has always been very sweet during their brief interactions. Scully believes she really does want to help, however this particular intervention would be more than Scully could stand. Scully imagines Carla carefully divulging knowledge of Mulder’s past relationship with Diana, trying to let Scully down easy. Oh God.
“Oh, trust me, she knows,” the other woman laughs. “Fox Mulder is not even slightly subtle. Everyone knows his feelings. How could anyone miss it?”
It really is obvious now that Scully thinks about it. It accounts for so many answers to her questions. Why hasn’t Mulder tried to kiss her again? Clearly that was a heat of the moment mistake, and he actually wants to be kissing Diana. Why didn’t he respond when she took his hand in Arizona? He loves Diana. It all adds up. Everyone can see the truth but her. Scully’s shoulders sink at the thought of their co-workers looking at her like a delusional girl with an unrequited crush.
The women’s conversation shifts to unrelated topics, and Scully waits until a few minutes after they leave to come out of the stall. She looks at her frizzy hair in the mirror and frowns. Not that her hair matters all that much. Dejected, she exits the bathroom door and almost hits Mulder with it.
“Mulder, what are you doing outside the women’s restroom?” Scully asks, genuinely confused. She thought she would return to her desk to find a post-it note asking her to cover for him.
“Looking for you. Someone saw you come in here, so I, uh, waited,” he stammers, tripping over his words as if he’s nervous. She realizes that he’s probably worried that she’s going to be pissed at him for going off with Diana
“Mulder, go. I understand,” she assures him, because that is what she does; puts her feelings aside and makes him feel better, even if it hurts.
“Scully, I’m not going with Diana,” Mulder says with conviction. “I told her she should contact her partner, Agent Spender.”
“Mulder, she was inviting you on an X-File. Why would you pass that up?” Scully scrunches her nose, trying to figure out why Mulder would turn down the opportunity to investigate the paranormal with the woman he obviously loves.
“She was as surprised as you are,” Mulder shrugs. “She packed her things and stomped to the elevator like a bat out of hell.”
“She… stomped?” Scully asks, her eyes widening as the bathroom conversation she overheard takes on a new meaning. Maybe she had it all backwards.
“I guess she’s not used to hearing no,” Mulder jokes. “Speaking of which, I hope you won’t say no to pizza and a movie tonight.”
He gently pushes his finger into her shoulder to emphasize the word “you.” Even that tiny gesture feels electric.
“You’re inviting me over for pizza and a movie?” Scully wants to clarify and make absolutely sure she’s understanding.
“If that’s okay,” Mulder rushes to offer her an out.
She doesn’t want an out.
“It’s a date,” she says simply, walking back to her desk with a renewed sense of confidence. Everything feels a bit lighter now. They’ve still got to have a real conversation about the hallway, but Scully has a feeling that—for once—the odds are in her favor.