Title: The Snow Ball
Author: Gina Rain (ginarain@aol.com)
Rating: PG-13 
Category: M/S UST, H, A, and fluff
Spoilers: early season 6
Archive: Sure, but drop me a line and let me know 
where. 
Summary: Mulder and Scully get stuck in a snowstorm 
and seek shelter in a mattress store.
Disclaimer: They x-files don't belong to me (it's a 
shock, I know).
A big thank you goes out to my beta, Sybil. Along with 
a wish that Santa will deliver a life-sized Mulder 
clone (in white silk boxers with peppermint candy cane 
decorations on them) to her door. What she chooses to 
do with said clone is her business. She's free, you 
know.
(If he has a brother-clone, send him on over to me, 
please).




Scully found the powder blue envelope in her in-box. 
She slid a fingernail under the snowflake-shaped seal 
and gently pulled out the embossed invitation.

A charity ball. December 10th. Thrown by Congressman 
Ronald Waters. Congressman Waters--friend of AD Alvin 
Kersh. It wasn't an invitation. It was a royal 
command.

Not going to the ball was almost not an option. If 
Kersh was involved in any way, this was nothing short 
of a direct order. Still, Scully thought, as she 
turned the invitation over in her hands, it didn't 
have to be a completely unpleasant experience. There 
was a part of her that always wanted to go to a fancy 
ball at Christmastime.

The base where the Scullys had been stationed for many 
years always had a holiday ball. She was allowed to 
stay up and watch her parents as they prepared to 
leave the house. The ball always started late. Ten 
P.M. Little Dana thought that was terribly unfair. 
Everyone knew midnight was the witching hour for dress 
balls and it didn't seem right to have only two hours 
to play before magical coaches turned back into 
pumpkins.
But maybe that was only Cinderella's problem. Mom 
already found her prince. And her dad always managed 
to look regal on such occasions. Dressed in his white 
uniform. Everything spit-shined and polished.  Mom was 
a perfect match in a long, flowing gown with lots of 
material that, no doubt, would swish and sway as she 
danced with her husband.

A few times, Dana even managed to sneak to the top of 
the stairs when she heard their car pulling back into 
the driveway hours later. Even though they looked 
slightly less sharp than when they left the house; 
they somehow looked just a bit more in love.

Scully smiled at the memory and quickly marked the 
reply card.



"Mulder. This isn't remotely amusing." 

"Do you see me laughing?" Actually, he wasn't even 
smiling. He had returned to the interior of the car 
after unsuccessfully checking under the hood and 
confirmed what they had already suspected. The car was 
dead. A more technical term Mulder was not trained to 
give but that was all that really mattered. It 
stopped. It wouldn't go. And they were stuck. In the 
middle of a nasty snowstorm that was beginning to look 
like a borderline-blizzard.

 The timing couldn't be more wrong. They had already 
been late for the ball. Or the "freaking ball," as he 
began calling it, after his date had slipped on some 
ice and taken a nosedive off the front stoop of her 
apartment house several days before. When he had 
suggested they "carpool" to the "freaking ball," and 
when, against her better judgement, Scully had agreed, 
a big red light, clanging bell or some symbolic stop 
sign should have made an appearance. It didn't. They 
were driving for about forty-five minutes when he 
decided to take one of his infamous shortcuts. And 
that's when the car decided to go on strike. Mulder 
was now cold and wet and Scully was not feeling much 
better. While they were hardly on a deserted stretch 
of road, it almost seemed that way since most sane 
people knew to stay indoors in such weather.
 
"What did Triple-A say?" Scully asked, with a slight 
trace of impatience in her voice.

"They said they would be here as soon as possible but 
that wouldn't be for quite a while. They suggested we 
find some sort of shelter since it's going to be 
damned cold tonight--to which statement, may I add the 
editorial comment--'duh'--and keeping the heater going 
for all those hours is hardly safe. So, they know the 
location of the car and will tow it when they get the 
chance but we are on our own. Hunk of junk," he said, 
punctuating his words with a neat slam of his fist 
against the steering wheel. She watched him bite his 
lip to squelch the pain he had just inflicted upon 
himself.  Hunk of Junk: 1; Mulder: 0.

Scully sighed. Loudly. 

Thus ended her hopes of attending the ball. Hopes that 
seemed rather foolish considering all that had 
happened during the past two weeks. Having no way to 
get there was, apparently, the icing on the cake. She 
mentally geared up for their upcoming storm survival 
maneuvers.

She looked down at her strappy silver dancing shoes 
and mentally kissed them goodbye. If she were lucky, 
she wouldn't break her neck during their walk for 
warmth. The shoes could take the short walk from her 
apartment building to the car, and from the car to the 
entrance of the hotel. The shoes would not survive a 
hike in the snow. They had to be sacrificed for the 
greater good. 

She opened the car door and let the wind and snow slap 
against her face. She unbuttoned her long coat and 
stepped out of the car. 

"Scully, what the hell are you doing?" She knew he was 
standing behind her, wondering about the strange 
movements she was making.

"Never mind. Just start walking."

She finished her under the coat gyrations, having 
stuffed enough of the midsection of her evening gown 
into her pantyhose to make it a short dress. The shoes 
needed to be sacrificed but the deep blue velvet gown 
would be ruined over her dead body.

She pulled the coat tight around her bulges and 
followed Mulder.



They had been walking about a half hour when they saw 
the strip mall. Just a one-block area with six stores. 
All of them were closed for the evening and a few 
people had actually boarded their windows in 
preparation for the nasty storm they had been warned 
about all evening.

They should have rented an SUV. They should have 
called a limo service.

It was all too late now. All they could do was walk to 
the back of the stores and see which lock would be 
easier to pick.

"Donut shop?" Mulder asked.

"No--go for the mattress store first."

"Why, Scully. You little devil."

"Just do it, Mulder. My toes are falling off."

"Of all the impassioned pleas I've heard for me to 
"just do it," yours is definitely the most original."

He went to the back door of the bedding store and 
picked the lock within fifteen seconds. Scully moved 
her near frostbitten toes into the store. They were 
standing in a small hallway with a bathroom to the 
right and a door that led to a small office on the 
left. The showroom was beyond the doorway. They 
automatically headed in that direction.

Mulder flicked a switch and the main lights came on--
illuminating a huge store with approximately forty 
beds on display. 

"Well, well, well. . .is fate trying to tell us 
something, or what?" 

Scully was looking around the huge room. 

A few desks and chairs were set up to clinch the deals 
made in the showroom but other than that, there were 
basically bare mattresses on various and sundry bed 
frames. 

"There aren't any blankets," she said, not able to 
keep the disappointment from her voice.

"Well, no--I mean, there wouldn't be, would there?"

"No. I was just hoping for one bed that might have 
one. Can you make a few phone calls and get us out of 
here? I'm going to see what's in the back."

She turned and left the room. She peeked into the 
bathroom. Just a regular, small "behind the scenes" 
type of functional bathroom. The other room held a 
little more promise. It was a small office/break room. 
It had a couch, a few mattresses standing against the 
wall and a small refrigerator. There were no windows 
but two space heaters graced the floor. She switched 
both on immediately, then removed her coat in spite of 
the chill. It was simply too wet to keep on. Next came 
her shoes and pantyhose and then she finally yanked 
her dress down to its original position. She felt the 
heavy velvet fall over her knees and was glad that it 
did not go the route of her formerly lovely shoes. It 
was lovely. The perfect color; just enough texture to 
drape down in a slinky sort of way and it was just a 
tiny bit sexy on top.  Just two thin straps holding up 
a fairly low cut gown. The Wonderbra had nicely agreed 
to work overtime and she had been pleased with the 
results when she left the house. She wanted to give 
Mulder a vision that might direct his attention to her 
for a few seconds.

"I got through to a car service who told me I was nuts 
and then called someone from the bureau to rescue 
us…He also told me I was nuts but. . .whoa!" Mulder 
came to a quick stop I the doorway, as he saw Scully 
in her gown for the first time that evening. "Um. . 
.nice dress."

"Thanks," she looked down for a moment. "You were 
saying?" She asked as she watched him peel his eyes 
away from her creamy cleavage.

"Oh, yeah. Um--the guy at the bureau said I was nuts, 
too, but he would send out someone to rescue us as 
soon as possible but for us to get comfortable and 
'not hold our breaths' because, after all, we are not 
on duty and, consequently, highly expendable at this 
point."

"That's nice. Do you want coffee? Apparently, they 
stock a few luxuries here."

"Sure." 

Scully quickly went about the task of filling the 
carafe with bottled water and putting a fresh pot to 
brew. Then she sat on the couch and watched as the 
coffee began to drip into the pot.

"You okay, Scully?"

"Sure."

"You look--preoccupied."

"No. I'm just thinking about frostbite, I guess."

"Geez. I forgot about your toes. Let me look." Before 
she could say a word he was down on the ground 
examining her feet. He pulled one cold foot into his 
lap and she pulled it away without a word.

"Pain?"

"A little. Just the blood rushing back where it 
belongs."

He sat back on his haunches and winced.

"What's wrong?" She asked, paying full attention to 
the man--and not her very mixed feelings for the man-- 
for possibly the first time that evening. 

"I'm very wet."

"Take it off, Mulder."

His smile returned full force.

"Take what off?"

Her expression didn't change. It was still in absolute 
enigmatic mode.

"Take off whatever is wet so it can dry."

"You sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure. As long as you leave your boxers on…I 
will contain myself. I swear."

He laughed softly and took off his shoes and coat 
first. As he reached to undo his bow tie, she sighed. 
He shot her a quick glance but she looked away. She 
heard him unzip his pants and lay them across a chair. 
She looked up and he caught the small smile that 
graced her lips.

"Something funny?"

"A little."

She had waited for years to see Mulder in a tuxedo 
again. She had so looked forward to it, as she had 
many things that evening. It almost physically hurt to 
see that tuxedo begin to come off before she even was 
allowed one good look but the sadness couldn't take 
firm hold because the sight of him in bare legs, 
boxers and full tuxedo regalia (sans tie) from the 
waist-up was amusing.

"I live to make you laugh," he said and sat down on 
the couch, trying to mimic her position and settle in 
to watch as the remaining drops of coffee hit the 
almost full pot.

If only that were true. Her melancholy mood returned 
quicker than she thought possible.

After the coffee pot let out one last gurgle--Mulder 
leapt to his feet and left the room. Scully sighed and 
went to pour two styrofoam cups full. The refrigerator 
was stocked with milk, bottled water, and a half 
filled box of individual coffee cakes. Not exactly 
champagne and truffles, but it would have to do.

"Ta-da," Mulder came in lugging a pail of hot water 
and a washcloth. "Close as I could get to a towel. 
Now, I know you're not supposed to plunge your 
tootsies in there right away but maybe a warm compress 
followed by quick dips?"'

Scully stood there--cups in hand--watching her 
pantless hero put down the pail. She hated herself for 
still feeling so much resentment when he was in a 
sweet, thoughtful mood but until she found an outlet 
for venting those frustrations, she could not fully 
appreciate anything wonderful he might decide to do. 

"Scully? Aren't those cups hot?"

"Here," she handed him his coffee. They'd save the 
cake for later. They resumed their positions on the 
couch and she pulled the hem of her dress back above 
her knees so she could take those short "dips" in the 
pail.
 
"We can share, you know," she said suddenly, 
remembering his dress shoes had been no less 
waterproof than hers.

"You'd let me put my big old feet in your water? I'm 
seriously touched."

"Shut up, Mulder."

He put his feet in and let out a little yowl of pain. 
She was right--his feet were suffering, too. After a 
few moments, he lifted his feet out and she put hers 
back in.

He nudged her shoulder with his own.

"I know this room is much warmer, but the showroom 
does present a lot more possibility for excitement 
than this tag team foot dunking thing we've got going 
here."

"Too bad Diana is such a klutz or you might be testing 
your theory now."

Damn. So much for enigmatic. The doctor had not only 
left the building but had let out a huge, uncensored 
thought while making her exit. And a whopper of a 
thought at that.
 
"So, that's what's been bothering you," he said, in 
that hushed tone that indicated the light bulb of 
truth had just come on over his head.

"No, it's not."

"Sure it is. You're annoyed that I was originally 
scheduled to attend the ball with Diana."

"You can go with anyone you want. It's a free 
country."

"For the record, I didn't ask her. She asked me."

"You accepted," she said, and even she could hear the 
hurt in her voice.

"Only because I thought you'd never want to go. I 
mean, it's been one hell of a year and last year at 
this time. . ."

"I know all about last year at this time," she said, 
cutting him angrily, "and when did I give you any 
indication that I ceased to live my own life when 
Emily died?  It's not about her. Or me. You have the 
perfect right to want to have fun when you go out 
socially and you just don't associate me with good 
times of any sort. Quite the opposite. And that 
realization. . .hurts."

There it was out. And she automatically felt better. 
She'd feel worse later but for this split second, the 
weight of the last few weeks began to ease off her 
shoulders.

"It's not true," he said simply.

"It is true. I can share your journey, your pain, your 
angst. But that entangles me in a whole web of 
negative associations. And one day, you will be tired 
of living a life of negativity and find someone who 
can make you smile. Who can make you happy. Maybe you 
already did. She makes you believe <she believes> 
everything you think or say.  You can't find that with 
every woman. You can't even find that with every 
partner."

"Scul--lee."

She pulled her feet out of the water and dried them 
off with the washcloth. She then moved so her back was 
against the armrest of the couch as she tucked her 
feet beneath the velvet of her gown. Pandora's box was 
opened--wide. She might as well go all the way. Get it 
out of her system and then move on.

"Would you have slept with her?"

"What?"

"Just answer."

"I'd like to think I wouldn't," he said quietly.

"You'd like to think?"

"Do you want me to lie? I can't guarantee that I 
wouldn't. I'd just like to think I wouldn't."

She closed her eyes and sipped her coffee.

"Are you going to tell me what you are thinking?" he 
asked.

She opened her eyes. She was tired. Maybe the weight 
of the world hadn't been lifted after all. She didn't 
even know why she started this.  She didn't like 
talking about herself. She definitely didn't like 
giving voice to her emotions. Giving voice to them 
gave them a certain reality. And she had given enough 
of her reality--pieces of her soul--to Fox Mulder. She 
didn't want to keep adding to his collection. And, 
yet, she started it. And she was going to finish it. 
He wanted honesty. She could give him honesty in 
spades.
 
"I was thinking about fairy tales. I was a tomboy but 
there were a few stories I really liked as a kid. For 
a while, I was on a Cinderella kick. I liked the idea 
of a ball with all the finery and a Prince Charming. I 
<wanted> to go to this stupid party. I wanted you to 
see me in a different light. Not Special Agents Mulder 
and Scully running for their lives, searching for the 
truth but Fox Mulder and Dana Scully just standing 
still for a moment. A man and woman seeing each other 
as a man and woman. But. . .the woman with the biggest 
knockers got noticed first. And old faithful stepped 
in when 'she who couldn't see her shoes' fell over her 
own feet."

He began to look frustrated.

"Diana opened her invitation while I was getting 
something from the basement. She turned and asked me 
if I wanted to go. I just automatically said yes."

"And that's fine," Scully said, feeling a bit spent 
and more than a bit foolish at her outburst. "You 
don't have to defend yourself. I'm just telling you 
some of what I've been feeling lately. I thought we 
were getting a bit closer since the OPR hearing. And I 
guess we are--as partners. And that's really fine."

"Scully, this is the oddest conversation."

"Well, let's stop. Talk about an x-file. You know you 
want to."

"I want to make you feel better about tonight."

"I'm just tired, Mulder. I think it's post-traumatic 
stress catching up with me. Getting colder than I've 
been since Antarctica. . ."

"What?"

"I'm entitled to have a little breakdown, aren't I?" 
She asked with a smile. How does he do things? Deflect 
with humor. Subject dropped. Life continues as always.

"Sure. Go for it." There was a nastiness in his tone 
that she didn't like. At all.

"Thank you for your sensitivity."

"I would be very sensitive if I thought you didn't 
just pull that out of your. . .hat. You are doing it 
again. You are rationalizing even your own words and 
behavior."

"That's what I do. That's who I am."

"No, it's not. You've been showing me bits and pieces 
of who you really are at this moment in time. And all 
I said was--it's odd. Not that you should stop."

"Well, then I will finish. I guess I've just been 
picturing myself as being on the outside looking in 
someday. After I've made a full emotional commitment, 
I will have to someday gather whatever pride I have 
and watch as you find your happiness with someone 
else. It's not a picture that makes me happy."

He pulled his feet out of the water with a jerk and 
literally climbed on top of her like a praying mantis 
stalking a spider. She held her coffee cup towards her 
chest so it wouldn't spill.

"Mulder! What the hell?"

"I will never leave you on the outside of anything."

"You don't have to say this, Mulder. I'm just telling 
you what I think. You don't have to go to desperate 
measures to make things right. They already are right. 
Just in a smaller scope that I had allowed myself to 
think of."

"You owe me a kiss."

"What?"

"You owe me a kiss. And don't think you can use that 
old "got stung by a bee-infected with an alien virus 
and shipped to Antarctica excuse forever. I <want> my 
kiss."

"Oh--get off," she pushed at his chest but he wouldn't 
budge. He reached out and took her coffee cup from her 
hands and set it down on the floor by the couch. He 
leaned on his elbows and put both hands on either side 
of her face.

"Feel familiar yet?" he asked as he moved in closer.

"Mulder. . ."

He moved his head so he was as close as they were 
before their long-ago near kiss ended abruptly.

"Kiss me, Scully."

"No."

"You don't want to?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then, kiss me."

"No."

"Why?" his whispered breath tickled her mouth. 

"Because I've done enough sharing of emotions today. 
It's your turn."

He moved closer and lightly pressed his lips to hers. 
She felt the tip of his tongue swirl against her lower 
lip like the melting of a snowflake. Soft, light, 
barely there. A fleeting moment; a lasting memory.

He moved his face back.

"Now, exactly what part of "Scully, I love you" did 
you not get when I came back from the Bermuda 
Triangle?"

"The part that would like to think he would not sleep 
with Diana."

"Agh!" he said with a smile, carefully disengaging his 
body from hers without digging in a knee or elbow. He 
resumed his former position on the other side of the 
couch and dipped his feet back in the water.

She sat up a little straighter and reached for her 
coffee, stopping suddenly to taste her own lips to see 
if she could find a little bit of Mulder left behind.

"Scully--I haven't had sex in a long time. IF--and I 
am saying if--I had sex with Diana--it would be 
exercise, not love. And that's why I wouldn't have sex 
with you at this point. Because it would be love. And 
you deserve my undivided attention. You don’t need to 
live with me jumping up from bed to chase down a 
lead."

"I would 'like to think' you wouldn't be thinking 
about leads if you really loved me."

"Possibly. And that's the problem, isn't it? We've 
worked so hard and come so close--"

"Ah, this is good. We're heading back to the solid 
ground of x-file territory."

"Why do you drive me absolutely crazy only when we're 
in these impossible conditions?"

She stood up from the couch and walked over to one of 
the mattresses. She tipped it over and watched as the 
dust from the floor set up a little cloud due to the 
impact. She tested the couch cushion she had been 
sitting against and it was removable. She put it on 
the mattress to use as a pillow.

Mulder was leaning forward, watching her.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, since I'm driving you crazy all of a sudden. . 
.and since we're in an impossible situation--I am 
going to help you out here. I'm going to sleep. You 
mind if I turn off the overhead light?"

"Um. No. There is a lamp on the desk."

She let out a little shudder. It was one of those very 
old, drunken-clown-against-a-lampost lamps that were 
made--well, way before she was born. She hated clowns. 
They used to scare the hell out of her as a child and 
being grownup did little to ease her extreme dislike. 
Still, it was a softer light and she was the one who 
asked. She switched on the lamp and turned off the 
overhead.

"There is some cake in the refrigerator, Mulder. If 
you get hungry. If you go out to the main room or walk 
outside, just close the office door because this dress 
is not too warm and the heater is only warming up the 
floor at this point."

She pulled one of the heaters as close to the mattress 
as safety would allow and curled up on one side. She 
felt the bed dip besides her after a few moments.

"Is this okay, Scully?"

"Sure. Take a nap. You must be tired, too."

"Not even a little."

"Oh."

"You owe me a dance, you know."

"Mulder. . ."

"See. You do this all the time. I know you don't like 
hearing it but it's true. You consider all my flirting 
to be full of shit and--Scully--I don't know how to go 
up a level without taking it at least a couple of 
steps at a time."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I flirt. You flirt back. I try a little something. 
You slap me away--but not with any real intention of 
putting me off. I try again--you respond a little less 
forcefully than the time before. I pretend to give up-
-you jump my bones--and we're off to thee races. That's 
the way it's supposed to be. Not: I flirt. You shoot 
me down. End of story."

She smiled in spite of herself. Mulder was certifiable 
at times but almost terminally cute.

"Should we start over?" she suggested.

"Maybe. One rule first--or should I say one 
clarification. Diana is a friend. An old and trusted 
friend. She is a sometime--exercise--partner. I get a 
little defensive about her because--well, hell. I get 
defensive about all  my friends. But she is not the 
one I wanted to go to this stupid work thing with and 
she's not the one I want to be with and anything I say 
or do is just for you and me. Okay?"

She nodded. She still hated the bitch but he'd have to 
draw his own conclusions. And, while he didn't need to 
know it at this particular moment, if he ever 
'exercised" with Busty Maroni again, she'd search 
under every rock until she found Diana and kicked her 
squarely in the ass.

"Okay, let's go back. You owe me a dance, you know."

"Oh, I suppose you mean the horizontal mambo."

"No. Not necessarily."

"You call that flirting?"

"You threw me off. You flirted too hard."

"Mulder!"

"Okay. Skip the flirting. I'm going to sneak my arm 
around your waist now."

"No wonder you haven't had sex in years. Who announces 
these things?"

"I respect you. Hey--you know--there was a security 
camera in the hallway. I draped a washcloth over it. 
If I didn't respect you, I could have lured you out 
into the showroom and  had one of those tapes I could 
have sold for big bucks to some voyeur site. Not that 
I know of any. . ."

"Well, make sure you pull that off before we leave or 
someone might run off with a mattress or something."

She watched him smile. A big, toothy grin. That made 
her smile. A big toothy grin. He pulled her closer to 
him.

"I could keep you warm, you know. No heater 
necessary."

"Could you?"

"Um, hmmm…good flirting, by the way. Just enough 
without throwing the guy for a loop."

"Gee, thanks."

"I could keep you warm. Very warm. Very, very warm."

She put out a hand and pushed him back against the 
mattress. 

"Mulder. Triple A might be coming in a couple of hours 
and at this rate, I will still never really get a 
decent kiss out of you. Do you really love me?"

"Yes."

"Good," she said, and bent over and kissed him. She 
wanted to be seen in a new light. Probably not in the 
glow of a clown lamp but still. . .there was very 
little doubt, as she finally slipped her tongue into 
his mouth, that he was viewing her as all woman. And 
as she felt his erection spring to attention, she 
wasn't thinking about special agent Mulder but the man 
she had been waiting for all this time. Sex wasn't 
what they were after tonight; just the first 
breathless sense of discovery. First kisses, first 
gropes, first battles with one's own hormones to hang 
onto precious self control. 

They spent the next hour keeping warm. Very warm. 
Very, very warm. 

And just when Mulder caught enough of his breath to 
suggest that it would behoove them both to run outside 
and sit in some snow--they were rescued. Probably from 
themselves.

And Scully returned to her apartment,  looking considerably 
more disheveled than when she had left, 
but feeling so much more in love.


The End


Author's Notes:
This was in response to the Haven's Guilty Pleasure 
challenge. Required elements were (and I really hid 
them this time):
Fear of clowns (okay, I didn't hide that one)
Stalking 
Voyeurism
A Search
Now go back and find those last three. They are there!

In fan fic, I have lots of guilty pleasures. Among 
them:
Holiday fic (check)
Sappy fic (check)
Mulder and Scully talk fic (check)
Scully jealous fic (check)
Snow fic (check)
FBI Ball fic (uh--sort of--half a check)
Stuck Fic (check)
I hate Diana fic (check)
Mulder in formal-wear fic (check)
Mulder out of formal-wear fic (half a check)
I also LOVE first time fic but both Mulder and Scully 
took great issue with "doing it" for the first time in 
such an obvious place. They reminded me that I write 
x-file fan fiction and not fan fic for "Love, American 
Style." Such intense, difficult people! They weren't 
totally against making out in such an obvious place, 
though, so I took what they gave me and ran with it.
Seasons Greetings, folks.