TITLE: "Buttered Popcorn For The Soul"
AUTHOR: XochiLuvr
E-MAIL: xochiluvr@hotmail.com
CATEGORY: "Je Souhaite" Post-Ep MSR. Pavlov would be so proud of me.
RATING: PG for more leather references, and any dirty thoughts you may
entertain...
SPOILERS: *Through* Je Souhaite.
I'm like Baz Luhrman; Something For Everybody.
ARCHIVE: I'd be honored. Just let me know where.
FEEDBACK: *I* wish. Craved more than a pic of Gillian lusting after a pack
of Lucky's with those luscious lips.<shudder>Smoke 'em if ya got 'em, boys.
DISCLAIMER: JarJar Says: "Meesah no own!"
NOTES: Not nearly as many this time. Still at end.
SUMMARY: Sometimes the smallest things can mean the most.



Buttered Popcorn For The Soul
by XochiLuvr
Completed 5/17/00



"So what's up next? Caddyshack 2? Revenge of the Nerds? All Police Academy,
all the time?" Scully asked, returning from Mulder's kitchen with two more
beers.

"Actually, Scully, it's Dark City," he replied, watching her sit down beside
him.

"I'm not sure I know that one."

"I'm not surprised. The gunmen put me onto it, but don't let that disappoint
you. It's got action, romance... even aliens! No nudity, though there is a
lot of leather."

"And I'm not supposed to be disappointed?"

"Well, I could run out and get the Crying Game, if you'd like..."

"NO! I mean, this'll be just fine," Scully said, visibly repressing a
shudder.

The two agents relaxed into their seats and began to watch the movie. While
Mulder was swept deeply into the story line, Scully turned inward in
contemplation, only peripherally noticing when Mulder would lean over and
make a comment on the movie.

About halfway through the show, Mulder paused the tape for a bathroom break.
As he set the remote down and prepared to get up, Scully turned to him
suddenly and blurted out, "It's Wednesday, Mulder. Why am I here?"

"What do you mean? We can't get together to watch a movie any night except
Friday? I must have missed that in the FBI handbook."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it. What this your third wish? Was it
for us to be together?"

Taken by surprise, Mulder slumped into his seat and thought for a moment on
how best to get out of this conversation as quickly as possible. Hopefully
alive.

"I... I don't know what you mean. Aren't we together anyway? I don't need a
genie to get you to spend some time with me," he hedged.

"You're being evasive, Mulder. Most people who've been married for seven
years don't have a relationship as close as ours. So why haven't we had even
so much as a real date? You had three wishes." She stopped, and considered
what to say next. "I want to know if one of them was for me, and if not,
why?"

She had him boxed in, and they both knew it.

"Do you want the easy answer or the hard one?"

"Both," she replied.

"Well," he started. "The easy answer is that I didn't wish for you to be in
love with me because I wanted it to be real, Scully. Those wishes may not
have been cursed, but they rarely turned out well, and I can think of
nothing worse than having your affection and knowing it was fake. That it
was forced."

"But what about when I was transferred to Utah? Didn't you try to force me
to stay then?"

"Ignoring the bee and everything else for the sake of discussion, I wasn't
going to *force* you. I could beg, plead, get down on my knees and grovel,
but ultimately you still had a *choice*. I wasn't going to handcuff you to
the office coat rack...

"At least, not without your prior written consent," he concluded, leering
playfully, trying to lighten the mood.

Scully's lips turned up at the edges, but the smile didn't reach any
further. "What's the other answer."

"I've made that wish before," Mulder replied, simply.

"What?"

"I said I made that mistake once already," he answered. "It was back when...
Oh, God, Scully, you were so sick. The cancer..." He paused, steeled
himself, and continued.

"I came into your room in the hospital, late at night. I sat beside you and
just watched you sleep for a while. Then I just leaned over you and cried
until I couldn't anymore. It was the night Spender brought Sam to me. I know
now she wasn't real, but back then... She said she didn't want to see me
again. She didn't want me and you were being taken from me. I was so lost."

Scully grasped his hand in hers and smiled weakly, silently imploring him to
continue.

"I left your room and went to the hospital chapel. The last time I prayed
must've been for Sam, shortly after she was taken, but that night I prayed
for you. I prayed, long and hard, with everything in me, that you'd be okay;
that you'd pull through. I knew how much I loved you even then, and I prayed
that after you got well we could be together. You did get better, but things
weren't quite the same between us. It wasn't until we came back from
Antarctica that we've really been close again. I wanted you to love me, and
you did. Just not in the way I wanted. I wished for your life for the sake
of my own happiness. I was selfish, and my wish cost me greatly."

As he finished, he let go of her hand, rose quickly, and almost ran to the
bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. In his wake, Scully was
stunned; she'd never realized the depth of his emotion for her. That he
actually felt guilty for praying to a God he still wasn't certain existed.
That he was in love with her.

She thought back to the first movie night; one Friday afternoon, a few
months after Bermuda, he had calmly asked her to come over that evening and
watch a movie. As he put on his trench coat and waited for an answer, she
asked him pointedly if it was a date. He stared at his feet and avoided the
question,  replying softly, "Can't I invite my best friend over for a
movie?" It had been the first of many nights spent together, catching up on
films they had no time to see in theatres, or simply old favorites they
wanted to share. Mostly, it was just quiet time spent casually in each
other's company. Being with one another without being in fear of their
lives.

A door creaking brought her out of her reverie, and she watched as he walked
to the kitchen. When he came back into the room, he carried two sodas and a
glass. He sat, passed her the glass and a diet coke, and set his can down in
front of him. As he reached for the remote, Scully motioned for him to wait.
He turned, refusing to meet her gaze, and waited for her to speak.

"I'm sorry you feel guilty about your prayers, but you needn't be. Whether
it was the chip or will alone, it was you who saved me. I know things were a
bit... strained between us after that, and I know a lot of it was my fault,
but I was struggling with so many things, Mulder. My faith, the
ramifications of the chip, both philosophical and physiological. I was so
happy to be alive, and so afraid it could be taken away at any moment."

At this point she stopped talking, and Mulder finally looked to her face,
finding a fierce determination within her gaze. She rose from the couch, and
walked purposefully towards the kitchen. She turned to look at him from the
doorway, and spoke quietly:

"I don't express myself as openly as you do. It's not like me to just up and
say "I love you," or even "I like you." I didn't know what to say to you. I
dissect people physically, just as you do mentally. We're both very
different in that respect, but we're also the same; we've spent too much
time taking other people apart to learn how to put ourselves together.
Please just know this, Mulder: I've known for a long time how we're supposed
fit together." With that, she fled to the kitchen, leaving her partner in
total disarray.

He listened as the microwave began to hum rhythmically, joined shortly by
the syncopated beat of popping kernels. Several minutes later the concert
concluded with a loud beep. Moments later, Scully returned to the doorway,
where he noticed her makeup had been removed, and what looked like a few
tear tracks running down her flushed cheeks. Her smile was nowhere to be
found, but she didn't appear to be sad. Just content with the incomplete
nature of their discussion. She wore her blankest face, any sign of emotion
kept under careful guard. He knew she had indeed come to a decision
regarding their relationship.

Hoping for the best, he remarked, "Hey, Scully, if there's buttered popcorn
in that bowl, it could be love!"

Scully reply was to be expected. "Must be fate, Mulder..."

Scully hid a smile and watched as Mulder's shoulders slumped. Before handing
down the bowl, she leaned over him and whispered, "Heavily buttered."

End.

"For those of you who like to scarf your popcorn in the sack, the
good news is that NewmanÕs Own contains an aphrodisiac." - Paul Newman

---

Author's notes: Special thanks to RM for beating me - I mean the *story* -
into shape.

I've learned very quickly that sex sells in the fanfic world. Can't I just
be an indy superstar? ;-)