Party Line by bcfan

Party Line

AUTHOR: bcfan
FEEDBACK: bcfan@shaw.ca
SPOILERS: post-episode for Firewalker
RATING: UST
THANKS TO: Redwyne, a party gal *and* a beta!
SUMMARY: Mulder loves surprises.

Mulder loves surprises.

Mulder hates being confined.

Mulder has a high energy level and is used to running or swimming every day.

Combine these three facts, and I can only conclude that hell on earth is being trapped within the walls of this facility with my partner. Especially when he's healthy and bored.

Scully's head shot up from her journal as a basketball whizzed passed her ear. She threw down her pen and narrowed her eyes, glaring angrily.

"I swear to god, Mulder, I'll shoot you if you don't stop trying to hit me with that ball."

"I'm not trying to hit you, Scully. I'm trying to see how close I can miss you," Mulder declared in his most irritating logical voice. "And besides - you don't have a gun. Idle threats are not polite."

Scully gritted her teeth. "Can't you find something else to do? Call your friends? Search the Internet? Read a goddamned book?" She gestured at the bookcase. It was the seventeenth day of a month-long quarantine, undergoing level 4 decon procedures. Every centimeter of space had been explored, every book read, every game played. Mulder was the king of scrabble, Scully the queen of chess. All two-person card games had quickly grown old.

At Mulder's hurt look, Scully swallowed and closed her eyes. Get a grip, she scolded herself. You usually love his brilliance and energy. Thinking back to yesterday's discussion - childhood report card comments - Scully remembered she'd shared "plays well with others." Mulder had countered with "has a low tolerance for repetition."

That's the key, Scully decided. I have to find a way to pull us both out of this miasma of snarkiness. I have to give Mulder something new and different to think about.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I know we're both bored. I was thinking - I'd like to plan something special tomorrow. Have you ever been to a slumber party?"

Mulder smirked, "You mean slumber, as in sleeping together? Hey, I'm your man."

She smiled back. "No, I mean slumber party as in sleeping on the floor in the same room, doing each other's hair and nails, and gossiping about everyone we know. High school all over again. You ready for a late night of silliness, Agent Mulder?"

"I can do your hair and nails, Scully? Any way I like?" Mulder's intrigued grin lightened Scully's heart. She nodded. "That's right - as long as I can do yours too."

"Okay but you've gotta promise - no photos. I don't want this to come back and haunt me."

At Scully's ready agreement, he continued, "What should I do to get ready?"

"I'm setting the event for tomorrow evening at 9 p.m. All the staff will be gone by then - only the facility guards will be outside. We have a day to plan, Mulder. I'm sure you'll think of something to contribute."

Scully rose, picked up her journal, and headed back to her tiny sleeping quarters. She could almost hear the gears turning in Mulder's head.

When Scully staggered towards the coffee machine the next morning, she interrupted Mulder's whispered phone conversation. She smiled to herself. Mulder's eager and intense face promised an interesting evening. When he continued private phone calls throughout the morning, Scully's curiosity rose to a fever pitch. She'd planned to distract Mulder, Scully realized, but ended up engaging herself as well.

Mulder promptly claimed a brown-wrapped package that was delivered in the late afternoon. He opened it, and solemnly handed Scully a new pair of sky blue flannel pajamas.

"Clothes to suit the occasion," he murmured, then displayed a plaid pair for himself.

"Thanks. What else do you have?" She leaned over to look and spied a colourful selection of fingernail polish and a bag of microwave popcorn. Scully smiled. She hadn't tasted popcorn in ages. "You must have had the phone lines buzzing, Mulder," anticipating the evening ahead.

At 9:00 p.m. on the dot, Mulder emerged from his quarters dragging his mattress to the centre of the room. He held up his hand to forestall questions, and then returned with a shoebox and a bowl of microwaved popcorn. Scully grabbed her makeup bag and pulled her mattress near Mulder's.

"Hi, girlfriend," Mulder batted his eyes and called. "Want some popcorn?"

"You bet."

Murder's eyes lit up at the selection of mousse, clips and scrunchies in the proffered tray. "Can I fix your hair first, Scully?" his eagerness evident.

"Of course." Scully sat on her mattress and leaned back in relaxation at Mulder's surprisingly gentle touch. He brushed her hair with that focused earnest expression she knew and loved so well.

"Mmmm, Mulder, that feels great."

He quietly replied, "I used to brush Sam's hair when she was little. I put it in a ponytail too."

Scully didn't reply. She was glad that - for a change - Mulder was remembering some good times with his little sister. She glanced up and was intrigued to see Mulder with his tongue unconsciously between his teeth as, with obvious effort, he aligned Scully's locks into what felt like the perfect ponytail.

"Thanks. Now it's your turn."

Mulder obediently sat cross-legged on his mattress, his back towards Scully. She knelt up and began to brush his hair back from his forehead. He has beautiful hair, Scully thought as she felt Mulder relax and subtly lean into the brush strokes. She grabbed two pink scrunchies and impishly divided his locks into two small ponytails above his head.

"Turn around Mulder, I want to look."

Mulder looked so silly that Scully laughed aloud. He shared her amused expression, looking more relaxed than he had since the quarantine began.

Scully tilted her head to the side and pretended to consider. "I declare this a new male hairstyle. I'll call it - alien antennado."

Mulder snorted. "Have your fun, but I'm ready for the next round. See this box? I've written the name of everyone we know at the FBI." Mulder pretended seriousness, but his eyes were dancing. "When we pull out a name, we have to say something about them. Then the other person has to guess if it's true or false."

Scully grabbed a handful of popcorn. "Great idea. I'll go first."

She closed her eyes, fished around the box with her hand - and drew Holly's name.

Scully seriously intoned, "Holly - she wears size 7 shoes."

"True," Mulder crowed. When Scully nodded, he drew Skinner's name.

"Hmmm," he muttered, "Our illustrious A.D. Skinner is - ah, Skinner was wounded in Vietnam, and had a steel rod inserted in his backbone."

Scully chuckled. "Too right. I thought so."

Murder's laughter shot a piece of popcorn out of his mouth. It landed on her pajama top, and he carefully picked it off. Scully flushed, and threw a piece at him to break the intimate mood. Soon they had gone through every name in the box, making up more and more outrageous lies as the evening progressed. Their shared laughter was a balm to restless souls.

Scully relaxed back onto her mattress, and closed her eyes. Mulder settled on his own mattress. She smiled dreamily as she listened to Mulder share some early happy childhood stories of beaches and barbecues, fairs and fairytales.

When she woke the next morning, Mulder was stretched out next to her, snoring softly. She glanced down - and was delighted to see her finger and toenails painted a rainbow of colours.

It was the nineteenth day of a month-long quarantine, and Scully felt as if Mulder had given her a gift beyond measure - the gift of friendship, with an unspoken promise of more to come.