A/N:

Title: Expense Reports
Category: X-Files (MSR)
Summary: What happens during an evening of expense reports.
Rating: PG-13 for some relatively mild sexual terms.
Spoilers: No spoilers.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I can only wish I were making some money off of this.

So, I am posting all my old, old stories here (along with some new ones). Sometimes I read them and cringe, sometimes I read them and think the characters are only a tad bit OOC, and sometimes I don't think the younger me was half bad at all. I'll leave it up to you to judge. I haven't edited these much since I first wrote them. I love feedback, and I'd be happy to hear whatever you think.

This takes place sometime in season six after The Beginning and before Two Fathers.

Finally, the last signature on the very last expense report we have. We've finally caught up for the entire month, this time without me having to threaten to rat out Mulder to Skinner. Not that something like that would bother him, but he usually humours me anyway.

I take my glasses off and rub my eyes. Looking at receipt after receipt and double-checking all the numbers was about to give me a massive headache, not to mention Mulder pouting and trying to distract me the entire time. He has his glasses on too, and I stop for a moment to appreciate how much I love seeing nerdy-schoolboy Mulder. Jesus, he could make a nun wet.

I stifle a smile, even though I silently chastise myself for that comment, remembering to make note of it during my next confession at church. Okay, maybe I wouldn't confess the exact words, but the idea itself is bad enough to get me plenty of Hail Mary's.

Sitting in Mulder's apartment drinking tap water – because he had nothing else in his fridge – and eating microwave popcorn while going over work expenses is not how I would have liked to have spent a Friday night. But it had to be done, and if this is the only time I can pin him down, I have no hesitation.

Coming straight from work, though, has its disadvantages. My workpants are tight and have been digging into my hip all evening. Looking at Mulder in his comfy jeans and t-shirt is making me very angry. At ten thirty, I'm starving and besides the popcorn and two cans of peaches in syrup Mulder has in his kitchen cupboards I'm not likely to find anything edible here. Time for me to go home.

"You have to drop that off to Skinner's office first thing on Monday," I say, packing up my things into my bag.

"Yeah, yeah," he says, taking off his glasses and walking to the window. "Uh, Scully?"

"Yes," I sigh, waiting to hear some stupid joke, or innuendo, or complaint. Instead he beckons me over. Irritated, I head to the window.

It's a fucking winter wonderland – excuse my language. I am now beyond irritated. While I have been slaving away at these expense reports, dreaming of my flannel pyjamas and a nice hot bowl of soup in bed, a surprise snowstorm has fallen over the city. The sky glows as the streetlights reflect off of the shiny white stuff. The streets are almost empty except a few cars skidding along the intersecting street and a few brave pedestrians trudging along.

"I can't even see my car," I say, looking to where I scored prime parking near the entrance to Mulder's building.

"Looks like that wasn't a garbage truck we heard earlier. The plow has been by once, all the cars are buried in."

I look at him, then back out the window. I'm speechless, really. How did what looked like two feet of snow fall without us noticing?

"How do I get home?" I ask.

"Jesus, Scully, it's just snow. But, having said that, I'm not going out there to shovel you out. You're trapped, partner. It's just me and you for the night."

I stare at him. Is he insane? I can't stay here. I can't stand the look of his grinning face right now, imagine if I had to spend the entire night looking at it. God, I want to punch him so hard. Then, after he's knocked to the floor, I want to kiss his sore face and then punch him again.

I guess my thoughts are clearly displayed on my face, because his grin disappears and he swallows hard, looking away.

"Uh, I mean, it's not safe out there anyway, Scully, even if we were to dig you out. Just stay here."

"But I'm uncomfortable. I want to change. I need a hot shower. I'm starving."

"Hey, no problem! Come with me."

He grabs my hand and pulls me along to his bedroom. I hate it when he drags me anywhere, but I'm too tired and too surprised by the unnoticed sudden snowfall to pick a fight. He brings me to stand in front of his dresser with him.

"Here. Would you prefer basketball shorts, or jogging pants? I only offer the shorts because they are longer than normal shorts, and would probably hit you mid calf, or even lower maybe – you are pretty tiny."

I glare at him and grab for the thickest, warmest looking jogging pants I see, and begin to rifle through his drawers until I find what looks to be an old sweater. It looks so cozy I can't wait to get it on.

"Interesting choice," he says. I just take my new wardrobe and stomp into his bathroom, hoping the water here is as hot as at my place. I wish I could take a bath, but to be honest, I'm not sure the last time he's scrubbed his bathtub and I can't even imagine the creepy crawlies growing in the grout lines.

I'm so relieved when I stand under the strong, hot spray of the shower, my hair clipped high on my head as I avoid getting it wet. Immediately I feel relaxed, I feel calm, I feel less irritated. In fact, as I use Mulder's soap – so that's what he smells like in the morning – I am kind of looking forward to this camp out with Mulder. Maybe he'll put on some stupid movie and keep me laughing for a while. At the very least I'll have help digging out my car in the morning.

After what seems like only a few minutes, my skin is red with the heat of the shower and my fingers are prunes. Time to get out. I'm surprised to find that Mulder actually has really fluffy towels. I dress slowly, rolling up the pant legs and pulling the drawstring tight on the large sweat pants. I decide to forgo the bra. What's the point of perky breasts if I have to stay stuck in that contraption all night?

Before I leave the bathroom, I take a pump of the hand moisturizer Mulder has in the bathroom. It's not what I would normally use on my face, but I am desperate. The dry weather plus the hot shower has made the skin on my face tight. I give myself a once-over, briefly think how I look like a child with no make-up and freckles, my hair curling a little because of the humidity in the room. I hardly care at this moment, I'm just happy to be out of that monkey suit.

Mulder is on the phone when I get out. I place my clothes in a neat, folded pile on a chair as he hangs up.

"Good news! In this miserable weather, at this hour of night, the take out deli two blocks that way is open. Here." He hands me a thick pair of socks. "Let's go."

"Mulder, I can't go out there. All I have to wear on my feet are my heels. And I'm pretty sure your shoes won't work this time." The socks are great through, woolen and warm against the cool hardwood floor.

"Aha, Scully, you of all people should know the resourcefulness of Fox Mulder. I happen to know that you had an overnight bag in your car yesterday containing a pair of boots, along with some other items. I also happen to know that as tired as you were yesterday upon our return, you would not have taken said bag in, instead waiting until the weekend when you were less exhausted."

Yes, Mulder, exhausted because you dragged me out to bumfuck no where to traipse through swamps and mud looking for a pre-historic water creature that you claimed was on a feeding frenzy before hibernation when I should have been home working on these stupid expense reports so I wouldn't have to be trapped with you in this dusty apartment with no food and porn magazines stacked in the bathroom almost a foot high.

I don't say that, however, but I do sigh. "Tada!" he says, pointing to my overnight bag. "The stuff in there is pretty dirty, Scully, even your pyjamas had mud on them, though I'm not sure how you managed to do that. But, your boots were there, and I took the opportunity of wiping them up in the sink. You can do a load of laundry if you want."

Sometimes this jerk partner of mine is kind of thoughtful. "Fine. Let's put a load of laundry in and go get some food. I just want to get cozy on the couch and not think of anything."

He smiles so bright I feel like it could light up the entire room and melt all of the cold snow outside. He always does this to me, he always makes my bad mood brighter, which can sometimes make me more angry. But that stupid, goofy smile of his has done it. It's almost like he knows how soft my heart is for him I am and how desperately I wish he could smile like that forever, and nothing could ever hurt him again.

So, I smile back. "Alright, partner, you did well. Now, get me some food, I'm starving."

We bundle up, Mulder having brought up my warm jacket and cleaned it up as well. He insists I wear his knitted toque and gloves, slipping them onto my hands. Pulling up my hood, he gives me another smile.

"You're pretty cute all bundled up like that," he says.

"Thanks, Mulder," I say, giving him a sarcastic grin.

"No, really. You look… cute. Like a co-ed during her first winter in college, about to head out for a late night post-study feed."

I shake my head at him. Leave it to Mulder to relate this to a scenario from one of his movies. I lead him out of the apartment, carrying my pile of clothes in a basket. We head to his basement, which hasn't been updated since the fifties it seems, with the dirty floor and fire furnace. Two old washers and two driers sit to one side, a lightbulb hanging above them.

"This is where you do your laundry?" I ask him.

"No, I take mine to the cleaners and let them do everything. But I have used this once or twice. It's not so bad. See?" He takes my clothes and throws it all in. He has a quarter in his pocket that he slides into the machine, and starts it on the one and only cycle it has.

"Only a quarter?" I ask.

"Rates haven't gone up since I've lived here. On the way back we can throw them in the drier."

"Uh, you sure there aren't any perverts around waiting to steal my underwear?"

"In this building, you can never be sure. But I figure the weather will deter them: too many people staying indoors."

We have to push hard on the front doors to get them open since the snow has piled up so high. Mulder kicks some clear to make a bit of a pathway and we head down the street.

I can't help but smile. It's beautiful out, peaceful and shining, and the sky has taken on such a nice purplish colour as the snow falls. I stick my tongue out, catching a few flakes. Mulder is watching me with a grin, and suddenly picks me up and dumps me in a snow bank.

I could be outraged. In fact, I should be, but instead I find myself laughing – and not just a giggle, but a real, hearty, full-bodied belly laugh, the kind Melissa used to roll her eyes at and Bill used to make fun of. I reach my hand out to Mulder to help me up, and as his fingers wrap around mine, instead of pulling myself up, I tug hard. It's unexpected, and he falls in a heap beside me. The shocked look on his face only makes me laugh harder.

"Jesus, Mulder, your face… oh my god. You'd think I told you I'd seen an EBE in a winter parka or something."

"That'll be the day," he mutters.

"Oh, come on. You deserved that. Besides, isn't this snow nice and fluffy?" I take a bit and flick it at his face. He moves away quickly, not much damage done, but he does want revenge. He grabs a handful and I quickly grab for his hands, holding them tightly away from me.

"Mulder! Come on, I barely got any snow on you!"

"You're playing with fire, Scully."

"Come on, no more, I'm hungry."

He looks at me a moment, trying to figure out if he can trust me, I'm sure. I guess I seem innocent enough, because he moves to stand. I don't let go of his hands. Mulder is a very sneaky fellow and not above dirty tricks for a good laugh. As I get pulled to my feet, my hold on him and the slippery snow causes me to fall into his body.

Breathing hard and pressed against him, I can see our breath mingling between us. His nose is red, and snow is all in his hair. He glances at my lips, and I glance at his. God, I want him to kiss me so bad. I wish I had the guts to make the first move.

He doesn't kiss me. Instead, he takes my gloved hand in his and begins to walk toward the deli again.

The deli is a small little place with soups and sandwiches and salads that look extremely delicious. They have a few other items I want to get, including mint hot chocolate packs and sweet almond biscotti. Mulder teases me that biscotti aren't real desserts, so we also get some fruit in homemade apple jello, a compromise from the oreo cheesecake Mulder wanted. He grumbles about it anyway.

I get a sandwich and a soup and a salad. I really am starved. Mulder pretends to make an embarrassed face at me, but then orders himself two sandwiches and an extra-large soup. Then he orders two quiches and gets some bagels for breakfast.

"Never know when the weather will be nice enough for us to go out again," he says.

After grabbing some juice and milk for breakfast as well, Mulder pays for our purchases and we grab our bags and head back. No funny business this time, we're both hungry and the bags are getting heavy. We reach his door in no time flat, passing my car as we walk up the few steps to his door.

"We may need a crane to get it out," he comments. The car is thoroughly buried. Even the dent Mulder made to get my bags from the trunk has disappeared under a fresh pile of snow, and there are no signs of stopping.

As we walk into his apartment, my mind suddenly clicks on something other than food. "My laundry," I say as we put the bags on his dining table.

"Alright, you get us set up in the living room with all this food, and I'll put your clothes in the dryer."

"Thanks," I smile, and hand him a quarter.

While he's gone I strip off my jacket and my boots. My sweat pants are wet from rolling around in the snow, so I go to his room to get another pair. I feel so at ease here with him suddenly. There is no awkwardness about going through his drawers to borrow his clothes. I don't even feel shy to change with his bedroom door open, knowing he could walk in the apartment at any moment. In fact, I slip my panties off as well as I change. Might as well be comfortable, and I never sleep with underwear on.

I start heating up our soups in big bowls, and place our sandwiches and my salad on the coffee table in front of the couch in the living room. I put some pillows on the floor so we can sit there instead of hunching over while sitting on the couch. Mulder is pretty used to this position since it's one I've favoured for a long time, including those case post-mortem trips to my place for late night chinese or pizza.

He comes back just as I'm pouring some wine I found. Although white isn't my favourite, it'll do.

"Wow, Scully," he says, checking out the spread. "Should I dim the lights and lite some candles?"

I ignore him and sit down. "Turn on the tv, Mulder."

He sits next to me, grinning that goofy grin again, and as he digs into one of his two meatball sandwiches, he flicks the channel until he finds a black and white movie.

"Arsenic and Old Lace," I comment.

"A true classic."

"I figured you'd put on some crazy, obscure, B grade sci-fi movie or something."

"This movie has a bit of everything. Murder, insanity, humour, romance."

"Mmm, and Cary Grant."

"Something for the lady as well."

We munch away at our food. I don't know if the deli was particularly good, or I was just especially hungry, but I don't think I've had a sandwich so tasty. I dig into my large sandwich, a roasted red pepper, zucchini, sweet potato with goat cheese number, toasted to perfection. I moan. It tastes so good. I'm seriously almost orgasmic. A moment later is when I turn to Mulder to tell him how much I'm enjoying the food.

But he's already looking at me. His mouth is open and he stares as my tongue snakes out to lick some cheese from my lips. I raise a brow, asking him silently what the problem is.

"Uh… I guess you like it?" he says, shifting his body a bit.

"Oh my god, Mulder, this is such a good sandwich! I had no idea such heaven existed just two blocks from your apartment. How are your sandwiches?"

"Oh, uh, good. It's good." He shifts again. I look at him quizzically, and watch him squirm for a moment more before going back to my food. God, the second bite was even better than the first. I can't help but moan again at the taste. Maybe the glass of wine I chugged before eating is having a bit of an affect on me.

Mulder squirms some more, than I realize the issue. I glance at him to see why he's so restless, and there it is. His jogging pants don't hide much as they tent a little. Mulder is getting an erection.

My cheeks go hot and I'm sure they are burning red. I look away as fast as I can, staring at the television hard. I don't look at him and I try to be as natural as possible. As I nibble on my sandwich though, I just can't resist commenting again.

"Mulder, try this, just take a small bite. It is delicious."

"I believe you," he says. I can see his cheeks are a bit red too. I just want to diffuse the awkward situation.

"Come on. One bite. Here." I hold it out for him. He hesitates, then leans in and takes a bite.

I didn't realize my finger was so close to the edge of the sandwich, but as he bites down, his lip brushes against it. My eyes open a little wider, feeling the heat of his mouth on my finger for just a moment before he pulls away. I swallow quickly, and look away.

"Well?" I ask, focusing on the television again.

"It's good," he says. "But try this."

When I turn to face him, I expect him to be holding out his sandwich for me to try, just as I did to him. Instead, he has a huge smile plastered on his face and he's holding out a finger dipped in the marinara sauce from his meatball sandwich.

He wants me to lick it? The bastard. He's playing games with me now. Well, if he thinks I'm chicken, he has another thing coming.

My tongue darts out first, to stop it from dripping from his finger. I let my lips circle his finger well below where the sauce is, then slowly drag them upwards. My tongue licks along the digit, circling it and cleaning it fully of sauce before my lips reach the tip, ending with a little bite.

I look up at him. He's staring at me, slack-jawed. I think I see a shine of perspiration over his upper lip. I take a quick peek down. Yup, jogging pants sufficiently tented. Job well done.

I go back to my lovely sandwich, sad that there are only about two bites left.

"I hope the soup is as good," I say.

"Yeah," I hear, his voice rough. I fight against a grin. He's shifting again, and I can tell he's uncomfortable. As I take the last bite of my sandwich and guzzle down my third glass of wine, I catch him trying to cover the evidence of his arousal. It's not working.

"Mulder," I say, and he turns to me, his hands awkwardly covering his lap. "Erections are a normal response in healthy males to a number of different stimuli. You don't have to be embarrassed."

"I…." He has nothing to say, but he looks at me while trying to form some words. I smile. This is the man I think I'm falling for? My witty, handsome, charming, brave, idiotic, know-it-all partner is for once at a loss for words?

"Eat up before it gets cold." I taste my soup. It is delicious, and has cooled to the perfect temperature. I almost moan again, but I stifle it. Better not to create any more problems for Mulder tonight.

"I guess we'll be eating at this deli again," Mulder comments, obviously amused by me.

"Every morning you're going to bring me lunch from here," I say.

"To hear noises like that from your mouth, Scully, I would do anything."

I smile, not looking at him and bring my attention back to my food. God, this stuff is good.

xXx

I wake up sometime later and it's dark in the room, with only the glow of the fishtank allowing me to see my surroundings. It takes less than a second for me to orient myself – I'm used to waking up in strange locations: the car while driving to Nowhere, America with Mulder, in some crappy hotel room in the middle of the previously mentioned Nowhere, or on some late night stakeout. This place, however, is not strange to me. Mulder's apartment, as sparse and dusty as it is, it's almost a second home.

I also notice that I'm pressed up against a hard, warm body. I feel my hair ruffled by his breath. I must have fallen asleep on Mulder. I lift my head carefully, in case he's sleeping too.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi," I say, giving him a shy smile. "Sorry about that."

"Hey, no big deal. The drool will wash out, I'm sure."

I smack his arm. "I don't drool."

"The evidence would suggest the contrary, Agent Scully."

I yawn, stretching a little. "How long did I sleep?"

"Three hours. It's two thirty."

"You could have gone to bed, Mulder. Or at least watched television."

"I didn't want to move you. Besides, it was a nice opportunity to think."

"Oh. Well, that's probably for the best since you don't do that very often." I give him a smile while I say that, and he smiles back, shaking his head at me.

"Go on to bed, Scully. I'm used to this old couch. I'm going to go get your clothes from downstairs anyway."

"You don't have to do that, Mulder, I can go down."

"Part of the package at Chez Mulder. I'm not going to sleep yet anyway. Go on, before you nod off again."

I smile at him. I feel such a rush of emotion towards him suddenly, like he's the centre of my universe, like my heart beats for him. I wish so badly he would join me in bed, even if for nothing else than to snuggle together, but I'm too insecure of his feelings to ask. Getting an erection doesn't equate wanting anything romantic.

"Mulder," I say instead, "I have to admit, this evening started pretty awful, but I had a lot of fun today. Thank you."

"Thank me? Jeez, Scully, I made you trudge outside in a blizzard for your dinner. I didn't do much. But hey, if that's what it takes to show you a good time, you're welcome. Anytime."

I smile, then give in to my impulse for once and kiss Mulder quickly on the cheek. "Goodnight," I say and bounce off the sofa and into his bedroom before I can see his response. I purposely don't fully close the door.

I get into Mulder's bed, smiling to myself, feeling giddy and high from the evening and the intensity of my feelings. Am I really falling this deeply in love with my partner?

As I cover myself with his comforter, I feel myself surrounded by his scent. I take a deep breath. This is how it could be. I could have this smell surround me every night.

I *am* falling in love with my partner, I realize. I may already be there. I fall asleep happy, my nose buried in Mulder's pillow, listening to the snowplows move down the street.