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Even if they sat down and really thought about it, it would probably be impossible to count just how many diners they’d been to in how many different towns across America. State to state, not much changes, from the greasy food to the haggard servers to the decadent chocolate milkshakes that Mulder pretends to order for himself, but passes them off to Scully after taking a skim off the top.
They were somewhere outside Norfolk, on their way home, when they stopped for dinner at a promising-looking diner off the road. It looked like it ticked Scully’s main boxes at least: clean and clean.
It was a Saturday night, so seating was limited, but they were able to snag a booth next to the front windows after a short wait. Mulder grinned happily at the the straw dispenser at their table as he slid into the red vinyl seating. It never failed to amuse him the way the straws would fan out for selection and then collapse when he lifted the lid up and down. Kitschy vintage appliances were amongst some of his favorite toys.
Scully usually used the time spent at these dinners to go over her notes at the end of a case and Mulder used it to people watch and charm the waitresses into bottomless glasses of iced tea. While they waited for their burgers, Scully’s pen moved furiously over the pages of her already carefully cultivated report and Mulder kept his eye on a couple of teenagers at the next booth over.
“Hey,” Mulder said. “Scully.”
“Hm,” she answered, making a noise of acknowledgment without really paying attention.”
“Hey.”
“Hm.”
Mulder pulled a straw out from the dispenser and peeled the end of the paper cover off one side. He put the exposed plastic end in his mouth and blew, sending the paper sailing towards Scully, which she easily deflected with the flick of her wrist.
“What do you want?” she asked.
He leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially, “I think those kids behind you are on a first date.”
Scully gave a subtle glance over her shoulder as she shook the pen in her hand and then hovered back over her notes. “What makes you say that?”
“It’s awkward as hell. They’re not even talking to each other, just looking at each other every so often, and then away. The boy keeps pulling at the collar of his letterman jacket.”
“I suppose you were a regular casanova at what, 16, 17?”
Mulder shrugged. “I pulled my share.”
“Mmhm.”
The teen facing Mulder had dirty blonde hair and cystic acne. He spent a lot of time looking up at the ceiling or at the table. Mulder couldn’t see much of his date, aside from her dark hair pulled back into a clip. Scully blocked most of the view, but even the back of the girl’s head looked bored.
“I don’t even remember the last time I went on a date,” Scully said, a little off-handedly. “It’d probably be just as awkward.”
“Why do you say that?”
“What would I even talk about at this point? That time a man-sized flukeworm attacked the good citizens of New Jersey or the latest alien abduction data posted in our early edition of The Lone Gunmen?”
“Scully, I’m hurt you’d share alien abduction data with anyone but me. That’s our thing.”
That earned him a bit of a smile as she turned a page in her notes. His eyes bounced from the teens to Scully and the teens to her papers.
“What if I took you out?” he asked.
“We are out.”
“Out out. Like a date, out.”
“Oh, that’s not what this is?”
“I’m serious.”
“Come on, Mulder.”
“I am!”
Three little creases formed above Scully’s right eyebrow as it arched upwards and she raised her eyes to him. She stopped marking her paper, but didn’t put down her pen. “That’s just ridiculous,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because we work together. We’re partners.”
“I think you’re just afraid of how good of a date I am.”
She suppressed a smile as she scoffed and then shook her head. “Mulder, when was the last time you even went on a date?”
“Totally irrelevant. I’ll have you know I am an excellent date.”
“On what do you base that?”
“I open doors, I bring flowers, I pull out chairs, the whole nine yards.” Mulder cocked his head as Scully’s face wrinkled as though she’d smelled something bad. “What’s that look?”
“Mulder, I think you’re confusing dating with being exceedingly polite.”
“It starts with being polite, but then you have to make good conversation. And I’m great at making conversation.”
“About Bigfoot and liver-eating mutants?”
“Hey, if that’s what you want to talk about, who am I to stop you? Great conversation also includes being a good listener.”
Now, Scully laughed out loud. “I might be tempted to take you up on your ridiculous offer just to see that.”
“It’s not a ridiculous offer, it’s just an offer.”
A moment passed where Scully’s expression turned from amusement to chagrin, almost as though she’d thought she hurt his feelings by rejecting him. She nervously flicked her hair away from her face and made a false start to respond.
“Burger medium rare,” interrupted the waitress, sliding a plate in front of Mulder. “Chicken sandwich for the lady.”
Scully quickly gathered her notes out of the way of the incoming plate and stuffed them into her satchel.
“Chocolate shake will be out in a minute,” the waitress added. “Can I get you folks anything else?”
This was usually Mulder’s cue to say something like ‘Dolores, I know I probably shouldn’t ask, but if you could find a pitcher of iced tea behind the counter, I would be forever indebted to you.’ But, he didn’t say anything.
“He’ll have another iced tea,” Scully said.
“Coming right up.”
“Thanks,” Mulder said, as the waitress walked away.
“I got impatient waiting for you to turn on the charm and do it yourself.”
“I don’t flirt with other ladies on a date.”
“Mulder, this isn’t a date.”
“It could be like a dress rehearsal date.”
“Do I need to remind you that not five minutes ago you blew a straw at me? That’s something you do in an elementary school cafeteria, not on a date.”
“We weren’t on our date yet, so it doesn’t count.”
“We’re not on a date now, so it doesn’t matter.”
Mulder brooded over his burger while Scully arranged her chicken sandwich to her liking, removing most of the lettuce and scraping off the excess of mayonnaise from the top bun. Dolores came and went after dropping off the chocolate shake and iced tea. Scully pushed the tall, frozen glass over to Mulder in offering, but he shook his head and pushed it back. Silence prevailed, and so did awkwardness.
“Mulder, are you going to pout about this all night?”
“Give me one good reason why you won’t go on a date with me?”
“I already have. We work together.”
“Workplace romances are so prevalent they’re cliche. That’s not a good reason.”
“Yes, I know. I’ve had my share of workplace romances and they’ve ended badly. And I think you have as well. I don’t want that for us.”
“One date. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“We could enjoy ourselves.”
“Your worst case scenario is that we could have a good time?”
“Yes. It would be.”
“That is like the epitome of cynicism.”
Scully put down the sandwich she was picking at and wiped her hands on a napkin. She took a moment to finish chewing and swallowed. Mulder stared at her, eating steak fries and waiting for whatever retort she was working up.
“Mulder, let’s say we go on this date, and you are exceedingly polite, and we talk and we laugh and you walk me to my door and maybe I even let you kiss me goodnight and then what? Because what you’re offering is just one date, but what happens if we want more? What happens if we go on a second date, and then a third? What happens if we sleep together? What happens when we can’t go back from what was only supposed to be one date?”
“Would it be so bad, Scully, to want more?”
“Would you risk the x-files over one date?”
“Why would I have to?”
“Because they could split us up or we could split ourselves up over this and...they’re my files too.”
Mulder smiled. “You’re saying you’d fight me for custody?”
“It’s not funny.”
“It is funny, though. Scully, I think you like werewolves and mothmen.”
Scully pulled her milkshake towards her with a little too much force and it spilled over the top onto her hand. “Shut up, Mulder.” He smiled around a steak fry as she licked her fingers clean before wiping them with a napkin.
“What is a date, really?” Mulder asked once she had her mouth full of chicken sandwich and couldn’t answer. “It’s two people sharing a meal together, or their time, getting to know each other better. By that logic, Scully, we’ve already been on a thousand dates.”
She shook her head in disagreement. “We spend time as coworkers.”
“Never as friends?”
“Sometimes. But, not lovers.”
“I know times have changed, but isn’t dating still a precursor to becoming lovers more often that not?”
“You’re not gonna win this argument, Mulder.”
“I already have.”
“When?”
“When you told me to shut up.”
Scully huffed in annoyance. The teenagers caught Mulder’s eye again and he surreptitiously watched the boy turn about three shades of red as he splattered ketchup over his plate. He could hear both kids laughing. He hoped the girl was laughing with the boy and not at him.
Mostly finished with his burger, Mulder slid out from his side of the booth and moved to Scully’s side. She paused, her mouth open for a bite of her sandwich, and watched him slide towards her. The closer he got, she leaned away.
“What’re you doing?” she asked.
“One date.”
“You just said we’d already been on thousands of them.”
“Well, then, what’s one more?”
“Why now?”
“Why not?”
“Answer the question and maybe I’ll say yes.”
“Because I’ve shared thousands of meals with you and I know your shoe size, but I can’t tell you what your favorite color is.”
“We don’t need to go on a date for you to find that out.”
“Maybe not, but at the very least we could both say the last time we went out with someone wasn’t when Reagan was in office, if asked. And who else are we gonna date? I mean, you could take your pick of any of the lab guys that geek out over you every time we come down for analysis, or one of the stud detectives that watch you walk away from a crime scene with a little drool at the side of their mouths, or Frohike. Let’s not forget Frohike.”
“None of that is true, Mulder.”
“It is. You just don’t notice.”
“Well, I’m not interested in any of them.”
“Maybe all I can offer you is politeness and scintillating conversation about lake monsters and the chupacabra, but it has to be better than nothing, right? I mean...I think I’m better than nothing.”
“Of course you are.”
“I’ll even wait until date three to bring up the Mongolian death worm.”
“Mongolian death worm?”
“Ah ah, have to buy the cow if you want the milk.”
Scully responded with a roll of her eyes. She hadn’t rejected him again though. Mulder stole a sip of her milkshake and then went back to his side of the booth. Eventually, he flagged the waitress down to get their check and he paid for it with his own cash and not the bureau card, which didn’t go unnoticed by Scully. He took her satchel and held the door open for her as they walked out, which wasn’t unusual, but it stood out to her.
Their rental car was at the far end of the parking lot. Scully slipped her hand around Mulder’s bicep and held him loosely as they walked. Strolled, really, as he almost came to a stop when she did it.
“No diners,” she said. “Nothing too fancy either. I like Italian and I like ambiance. You can pick me up, but you don’t need to bring flowers. My favorite color is green.”
“Got it. Green, really?”
She shrugged, let go of him as they reached the car, and took her satchel back. She went her way to the passenger side and he went ahead to the driver’s door. The locks were automatic on the keyring and he held it up to open both sides with one click. She opened her door.
“Hey,” he said to her over the roof of the car.
“Yes?”
“Just thought you should keep in mind, I’m a really good kisser too.”
Her eyebrow shot higher than he’d ever seen it and she took a glance down at his mouth. “So am I,” she said, and got into the car.
The End