"Good morning, Dana," Mulder said nonchalantly. He rolled his desk chair over towards her."Are you ready for nine hours of bone-tingling paperwork?"
"Mulder, do you mean spine-tingling or bone-chilling," Scully laughed. "You can't combine them."
"I meant exactly what I said," he smirked impishly, "bone-tingling."
"You're hopeless."
Scully sat and began organizing the papers on her desk. There was hardly any clutter other than a few pencils, pens, and a framed photo of Scully and her sister. She filed the papers away quickly and wiped dust off the photo frame.
That's better.
Thinking that perhaps she could give Mulder's desk a good cleaning, Scully spun her chair around. Mulder was gone.
This is the perfect opportunity to tackle Mulder's hoarding situation.
There were towers upon towers of papers with no specific system of being organized. Newspaper clippings were mixed in with case files which were mixed in with napkins and fast food wrappers. Scully snuck over to the desk and began sorting things, mentally scolding her partner.
After about 10 minutes of digging, she was finally able to see the wooden surface of the desk. Her next cruisade would be on the drawers of the desk itself. She tugged at the top drawer on the left, finding that it was so full of junk it refused to open.
What the hell, Mulder?
She summoned her strength and yanked at the handle hard enough to make the drawer come flying out. Random items shot everywhere, including a small photo. Scully scooped up the miscellaneous items before gently grabbing the picture.
It was her, half smiling and squinting into the camera. The edges of the photo were worn and scuffed as if it had been kept in a wallet.
"I remember this," Scully said quietly. Then she laughed as a thought popped into her head.
That was when he got home from his vacation and had that weird meltdown. What a dork.
She flipped the photo over and read the words on the back:
My partner and greatest friend, Dana.
Scully stared at it, reading it over and over again. It was uncharacteristically sentimental of Mulder, thoughtful in fact.
He never used to call me "Dana". Not until we fought a while ago, but this photo was taken before then.
Recently, Mulder had been overdoing the use of her first name, taking any chance he could get to use it instead of "Scully". He would say it when they were alone in the office or on a trip somewhere. Scully was worried that one day a co-worker would hear him and tattle on the two. Using each others last names was the code of the bureau.The only reason she hadn't stopped her partner yet was because she rather liked to hear him say it.
Is that bad?
They way it rolled off of Mulder's tongue sounded so intimate, like her name was a secret or a foreign delicacy. The other morning he had called her before work and his voice was very, very rough. Hearing him say her name put a blush on Scully' s cheeks from the other end of the phone.
Have I always been this much of a pervert?
She laughed at her own thoughts and set the photo back into the drawer.
"Dana?"
Mulder looked confused as to why she was seated at his desk.
"Just cleaning."
"You know I don't like it when my stuff gets moved around. I have a system," he grumbled.
"Is somebody embarassed? You had quite the pig stye going on over here; I was worried you would attract rats."
He made a pouty face and Scully rose from his chair. She sauntered towards him and stopped inches from him, causing his eyebrows to raise dramatically.
"Fox," she said darkly.
He swallowed and nodded for her to continue, equally afraid as he was turned on. She moved even closer to him.
"Don't ever let your desk get that dirty again."
Before he could speak properly, Scully had already walked back to her desk and taken a seat. She was satisfied with leaving Mulder as a droolingly mess, hoping her threat hadn't fallen on deaf ears. If anything, at least now he knew how she felt when he called her "Dana".
