"58 Minutes, 15 Seconds" by MoJo

Rating: MSR.  R for suggestive situations.
Spoilers: None really.  Part of my "Weekend Series".  Set in the season six on
the show.
Archive:  Sure, just slap the MoJo on it.  
Disclaimer:  They sure aren't mine.  They are Chris Carter's and 1013 and Fox. 

Author's Note:  Special thanks to Jori Remington, for proofreading.  You're a
gem.  This is what a lunch hour could be like if M/S were a couple.  Bon
Appetite!


"58 Minutes, 15 Seconds" by MoJo

***

J. Edgar Hoover Building
12:45 p.m.


"See this?" I said, pointing at X-ray in the dim light.  "This would appear to
be a large mass of tissue located in the cranial cavity."

"Uh-huh," Mulder said. He stood behind me, hands on hips.  

"Now," I said, switching the X-rays.  "After completing the autopsy, this
tissue is actually an unborn fetus."

"Hmm," he replied, moving closer.  I could feel his breath on the nape of my
neck, warming it.  I licked my lips, then pressed them together, forcing
certain thoughts out of my head.  I focused back on the film.

"There isn't anything supernatural about it.  Stephanie Jones was actually a
conjoined twin, but early in pregnancy, the twin died.  Its body attached to
the surviving fetus," I said, waiting for his response. There was a long pause.
 "Mulder?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, obviously distracted.  "So, this means?"

"It's not an X-file," I concluded, snapping the film off.  I turned around so
we were face to face.  "Medical abnormality."

"What about the claims she had telekinetic powers?"  Mulder pressed, staring
into my eyes.  "It's well documented.  Shouldn't we investigate that?"

"No," I replied, meeting that gaze.  I held my ground.  

Our faces were very close, as were our bodies.  Mulder was good at invading my
personal space, always had been.  But I knew him intimately now.  Mulder had
learned the effect of his touch on me.  So now,  I tried not to let him touch
me during working hours.  Not anymore.  Unfortunately, tension between us could
flare regardless of any physical contact.  It had become a challenge for him to
tempt me in other ways.  A look, a comment, a suggestion.  It was a challenge
for me to stay focused.

"I guess I won't be heading out to Texas," Mulder said quietly.  I felt his
eyes travel beyond my face, to my neckline.  "Scully...uh..."

I waited for him to finish his sentence.  "Yes?"

His fingers reached up to my clavicle, I felt my skin flush at he touched me
briefly, in a gentle movement at the base of my throat.  Violating the rule. 

"Your cross, the chain was twisted," he explained.

I released a breath I didn't know I was holding.  I instinctually reached up
and placed my hand over my necklace, protecting that sensitive area from
another invasion.   "Thank you."

Mulder edged even closer, his hand reaching behind me to turn off the light
table for the X-rays.  Suddenly, the room was even darker than it already was. 
It took a couple seconds for my eyes to adjust, just in time to see his face,
leaning in to mine.

"Lunch?" he asked, his voice low as his lips edged closer to mine.

"No," I replied, before pulling away.  "I have a meeting in just over an hour."

Mulder let me back away.   I turned around, but he grabbed my wrist, making me
twist back against him.  He caressed my palm, stroking my inner wrist with his
thumb.  It send a shiver down my spine. Mulder turned my wrist over, and pushed
back my sleeve, exposing my watch.  Another violation.

"It's 12:50 p.m., Scully.  What time is your meeting?"

"Two o'clock," I replied, keeping my breathing steady.  He gently lowered my
wrist.

"I'll have you back by two," he said, suggestively.  His eyes roamed my body
with familiarity.  Mulder raised his eyebrows at me, waiting for my decision.  

He was challenging me.  To see if I'd back down, if I'd back away from such an
invitation.  Off the clock, I'll be off the clock, my mind rationalized.  I
wasn't going to put up with his smirk all afternoon if I declined.

"One hour, Mulder" I answered, glancing at my watch.  "Starting now." 

***

I sat in the passenger side of his car, trying not to grip the seat.  Mulder
drove well over the speed limit, my heart was pounding in my chest.  Like I was
anticipating something.  I tried hard to force my composure back in line,
running over the meeting in my head.  Mentally preparing for it.  But I
couldn't.  Not racing down a busy intersection, sitting close enough to Mulder
to smell his after shave, or feel the spark of electricity as his hand brushed
my knee reaching for the gear shift.  Mulder had a stick shift.  Manual
transmission.  I loved to watch him shift the car in and out of gear, feeling
the engine as it adjusted under his control.  

"Are you hungry?" he asked, glancing over at me.

I took a deep breath, not letting my exterior betray me.  "A little, where are
we going?"

"Here," he replied.  He sharply turned into the curb, parallel parking it.  

I got out of the car and looked around.  There were a few restaurants down the
street.  "Which one?" 

"It's in the Daimler building," Mulder indicated the tall building in front of
us.  He held the door open for me as we walked into its lobby.  It was an
office building, with several restaurants and businesses located on the floors
above.  I stared at the directory, wondering where we were going.

"Do you like Japanese food?" he asked, punching the up button on the elevator.

I shrugged.  "I suppose, I don't eat much of it."

"That's a shame, Scully.  There's much to be said for Japanese cuisine," he
said as the elevator chimed.  

We stepped in and he tapped the 24th floor.  People piled in the elevator,
causing Mulder and I to be moved in the back.  I stood in front of him, with
his body pressed against my back to accommodate the others.  His hands found
their way to my shoulders, his fingers brushing at the nape of my neck.  I had
nowhere to move to prevent him from stroking the sensitive skin behind my ears.

The elevator stopped on the floor and I pushed past the other passengers, with
Mulder close behind.  The restaurant was ahead, beautiful dark woodwork in
traditional Japanese architecture graced it's entrance. It was very upscale.  
And expensive.   

"Konnichiwa," Mulder said, bowing his head slightly at the beautiful girl at
the front podium.  "Reservation for two, Mulder."

I crossed my arms, staring at Mulder.  He'd been here before, many times from
the reaction of the girl.  He spoke a little Japanese, another asset to his
eidetic mind.

"Yokoso, Mulder-san," she bowed, with a smile.  "Just one minute."

"You gave them your real name?" I asked, frowning.  I never liked any record of
our real names being used on our off hours activities.

"I come here often," Mulder whispered.  I felt his hand on my lower back,
huddling me closer.  "It's not unusual for me.  And there is no record of your
name."

The girl had gotten a key from the other room and started to walk into the
restaurant.  "Follow me."

I stood still. "Where are we going?"

"Private room, Scully," he said, hand lingering on my back and shifting even
lower.

The restaurant was beautiful.  Japanese art and statues were everywhere.  There
was even a small garden complete with a waterfall.  In the back of the
restaurant was a spiral staircase.  I followed her up the stairs, giving the
occasional glance back at Mulder.  He just grinned at me, saying nothing.

"Here is your room," she said, unlocking the door.  "Your lunch will be brought
shortly."

She stood back so I could pass.  It was a square room, with large oriental room
dividers.  Black with white windows.  There was a small, short table on the
floor with many pillows surrounding it.  All resting on a beautiful oriental
rug.  I turned back around, as she handed the key to Mulder.  She said
something in Japanese to him and he answered back, bowing his head as she left.

"Let me take your coat," he said, stepping behind me and sliding my trench off
my shoulders.  

"What is this place?" I asked, surveying the room.  It was gorgeous, with an
economy of design that spoke of a different culture.

"It's a restaurant," he answered, with a laugh.  Mulder hung our coats on a
black rack, with cranes sculpted on the base.  "Designed for the Japanese
businessman.  Many billion dollar transactions are conducted in this room, or
ones like it.  That is why they are so private.   To preserve confidentiality."

"So you though with such security in place, I might be comfortable here," I
said, crossing my arms again.  He was clever, I had to give him credit for
that.

"I was hoping you would be," he replied.  "And the food is excellent as well."

"You even arranged to have our food ready to save time," I commented.  Very
clever.

"Something like that," Mulder said.  He placed his hands on his hips, staring
me down.

We stared at each other, not moving.  I suddenly became aware of how private a
room this was.  

"Take off your shoes," Mulder said, his eyes on moved downward to my feet, then
traveled back up my legs to meet my gaze.  

"Excuse me?" I asked, distracted.

"Your shoes, take them off," he repeated, this time with a smile.  "It's
tradition to remove your shoes and place them by the door."

I leaned down, easing my feet out of my pumps, completely aware he was watching
me.  I set them side by side on the floor.  My feet sunk into the rich carpet,
it felt soft and plush.  Mulder did the same, placing his shoes by mine.  

He sat down on the pillows that surrounded the table, patting the space beside
him.  Inviting me.

I wish I had worn a pantsuit today, it was hard to find a comfortable way to
sit on the floor.  I tucked my feet to the side, exposing more of my legs than
I wanted to.

"Comfortable?" he asked, leaning back.  "Relax, Scully."

I hated the fact he could read me so well.  I sighed and relaxed my posture.  I
glanced at my watch, hoping he didn't notice.  45 minutes.  Alone with Mulder.

"What did you order?" I asked, leaning back like he did.

"Soup.  Rice.  Tempura.  Donburi," he answered.  "They have nice lunch menu,
food that compliments each other.  They'll  bring it out soon.  Tea?"

He reached over to the tiny carafe on the table, and small cups without
handles.  He poured the tea for us and held up his cup, making a toast.

"To my partner, who knows when something is not an X-file," he said, clicking
his cup with mine.  "Now you're stuck with me all weekend."

"I wouldn't call it stuck, Mulder," I replied, sipping the warm liquid.  "I can
keep you busy."

"I know you can," he said suggestively.  He leaned over to kiss me when there
was a knock on the door.  Mulder pulled away.  "Come in!"

A young man wearing all white with a chef's hat entered, pushing a cart. 
"Konnichiwa, Mr. Mulder."

"Konnichiwa, Yasuhiko," he replied, gesturing to the table.  "I've been
thinking about the miso-soup all day."

The man bowed at Mulder's comment.  I watched as he systematically placed the
food and plates on the table.  The food was artfully arranged on the bowls,
each steaming hot.  

"Mishiagare," he said with a bow when he finished.  Mulder got up and followed
him to the door, locking it behind him.

"What did he say?" I asked when he returned.

"Mishiagare?  It means, eat up," Mulder replied with a smile.  "And you start a
meal by saying itadakimasu."

"Just when I think I know everything about you," I started, unfolding my napkin
on my lap.

"There's a lot you don't know, Scully," he said, his voice enigmatic.  "There's
a lot I'd like to share with you."

I noticed there was no silverware on the table, just chopsticks. Another
challenge.  I picked them up apprehensively.   I held them in my hand, trying
to make them balance.  

"No, like this," Mulder said, taking my hand in his. He gently shook my wrist. 
"Relax."

"I am relaxed," I protested, looking up at him.  

"Relax your hand," he corrected, smiling.  "The first one, set it in your palm
like this.  Balanced on your thumb and middle finger.  The second, is held more
like a pencil.  Like this."

I mimicked his movement, faring better than I thought I would.  

"It's easy with practice," he said, reaching for a bowl of rice.  "But you
don't like it when you're not in control, do you?"

I felt my face flush at his comment.  "I don't like being out of control, if
that's what you mean."

"Sometimes, you need to let someone else be in control," he said, playfully. 
"Try something new."

***

"And then Skinner said, 'Agent Mulder, I hope you have a good explanation for
this,'" Mulder said, scowling like Skinner.  I laughed at his impression.

"What did you say?" I asked, taking another bite of shrimp.  I had settled back
comfortably on the pillows, enjoying the food immensely.   The company more. 
Mulder had removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, sitting cross-legged
on the floor.

"I said, 'I do sir, but right now I can't think of one.  Give me another hour
and I'll come up with something,'" he said, laughing with me.  

"So did you?" I asked.  

"Damn right I did.  I told him the reason for not having the report had to do
with a rare phenomenon occurring in my apartment.  There was gamma interference
that scrambled my computer files, so I was unable to work," Mulder said, in all
seriousness.  He then broke into a smile. "You're not buying it either."

"You are so full of it," I replied, sipping my tea.  I reached over with my
chopsticks for a plate of small rolls, sliced on a place.  I hadn't tried them
yet.
  
"No," Mulder said, holding my hand back.  "No chopsticks when you eat sashimi."

"Sashimi?"

"Sushi." His fingers reached for one piece. "Traditionally you eat sushi with
your bare hands."

"I don't eat raw fish," I said, setting my chopsticks down.  "I didn't know
that's what it was."

He dipped it into the wasabi sauce, gently tapping off the excess.  He brought
it to my lips.  "Take a bite."

"Mulder, I don't eat raw fish," I repeated, keeping my voice steady. His
fingers were inches from my mouth.

"It's not actually raw.  It's steamed eel.  Cooked," he said, grinning
slightly.  "I thought I'd start you out slow."

I opened my mouth, taking a bite of half the small roll.  I felt his fingers
graze my lips.  Mulder brought the remaining half to his mouth and finished it,
keeping his eyes on me the whole time. I chewed slowly, absorbing the flavors. 
It tasted like rice and vegetables and the spicy wasabi.  I barely noticed the
eel.

"Swallow," he instructed.  He waited patiently until I did.  "It's good, admit
it."

I took a sip of the tea to clear my mouth.  "It's good."

"Next time, we'll have the real thing," Mulder said, sipping his tea as well.

"How long have you been coming here?" I asked, looking over at him.

"I found this place a couple years ago.  It's very exclusive and private.  In
our line of work, it was useful if I ever needed to meet anyone in secret,"
Mulder said, wiping his mouth and setting the napkin on the table.

"Who did you meet here?" I asked quietly.

He settled back away from the table, leaning on his elbow.  "I never met
another woman up here if that's what you are thinking."

Was I that transparent?  

"Mulder, I'm not that naive to think that all this time you've never been with
someone else," I said, settling back next to him, so we were partially lying on
the pillows, side by side.

"Would you believe me if I said there hasn't been?  Not in a long time.  Not
since after your abduction?" he said.  He reached for my hand, lacing our
fingers.  "I tried a couple times, but there was always something wrong."

"What?" I asked, curious of his answer.

"They weren't you," Mulder answered, his eyes searching mine.  

"Mulder," I said, affected by his words.  I didn't pull back when he leaned
across and kissed me full on the lips.  "I do believe you.  Truth is, there
really hasn't been anyone else for me.  Ed Jerse, you do know nothing really
happened there."

"I was hoping," he said, looking relieved.  "You were so angry with me then."

"He...wasn't you," I said, biting my lip.

I felt his hand move away from mine and work its way down my side, across my
hip, over my thigh to my knees.  My head reeled as he kissed me again, pressing
me against the pillows.  His fingers moved up my knees to my inner thigh. 
Touching me gently.   I shrugged out of my jacket, it was uncomfortable to wear
lying down.

"You look so beautiful today," Mulder commented.  "I couldn't concentrate on
those X-rays because of you."

"I knew you weren't paying attention," I said, hitting him gently in the arm. 
He grabbed my arm, easing me on my back and scooting closer.  

"You were distracting me," he said, his hand roaming over my body again.  His
lips sought mine again.  I felt his hand tug my blouse out of my skirt.

"What are you doing?" I breathed against his mouth.  "Not here, Mulder."

"I am not trying to seduce you, Scully," he said innocently.  

"What are you doing, then?"

"I'm having lunch with you," Mulder replied.  "Perhaps giving you something to
think about for later.  Anything else you are assuming is your own desires. 
Maybe you secretly want something to happen."

I suddenly became aware of my appearance, my clothes disheveled.  "This was
your idea.  I'm not the one who's guilty here."

"Guilt about sexuality is a Christian doctrine.  I don't feel guilty about
wanting you.  You feel guilty for thinking about it now.  Why is that?  We're
not at work.  And you can't even complain about privacy or being in public.  
Because we are in a locked room.  Alone." 

"You're testing me, aren't you?" I asked, fingering his shirt.  "See how far
I'd let this go."

"How far you'd let go," he corrected.  "And I am testing you.  I'm testing that
imaginary line you keep drawing.  I'd like to know where my boundaries are."

"Where do you think it is?" I asked, equally aroused and annoyed with him.

"I'm not sure," he replied, leaning in to kiss me.  "Teach me."

I returned the kiss, Mulder rotating so his body covered mine. I brought my arm
around tighter, drawing his mouth to mine.  I was curious to see where that
boundary was as well.  I could feel his muscles underneath his shirt, strong
and supple.  I ran my fingernails along his back, across the crisp cotton of
his shirt.  His tongue met mine, deeping each kiss more.  My legs were entwined
with his.  His hand was edging up my thigh again, along my hosiery, pushing the
skirt up.  I slid my hand around to loosen his tie and something shiny glinted
off my wrist.

My watch.  1:37 p.m.

"Mulder!" I exclaimed, pulling away.  "The time! I have to go."

"What time it is?" he asked, rolling off me.

"Almost twenty 'til," I said, scrambling to my feet.  I tucked my shirt in and
reached for my jacket.  "If I'm late for this meeting..."

"You won't be late," Mulder said, putting on his jacket as well.  "I told you
I'd have you back within the hour.  And you will be."

I hurried into my shoes, glancing over at him.  His calm exterior only made me
more anxious. 

***

Mulder raced back down the street.  If I thought he drove fast the first time,
he was really pushing it now.  I tried to fix my hair back into place in the
mirror, with the car turning sharp corners.

"You look fine, Scully," he said, pulling into the garage.  "Not like you've
been rolling around on the floor at all."

"Mulder," I warned, not appreciating his sense of humor at the moment.

We ran up the stairs from parking garage, not wanting to wait for the elevator.
I hurried through the metal detectors, with the guard letting me pass.  Mulder
was behind me, sprinting as well.

"Slow down, Scully," he called.  "You've got time."

"I don't," I said.  The elevator was open already and I ran faster to catch it
before it closed.  I turned around and hit the button down.  Mulder braced
himself at the door, leaning in and keeping it from closing.

"What time is it?" he breathed.

I glanced at my watch, Mulder looked down as well.  "1:48 p.m."

"See?  I told you.  Less than an hour.  58 minutes, 15 seconds, to be exact,"
he said, grinning like the Cheshire cat.  

"Damn you, Mulder," I said, smiling back.

"I'll take that as a compliment.  "Enjoy your meeting," he said, stepping back
and allowing the doors to close.  I caught him mouth "love you" as they shut.

I shook my head and leaned back on the wall.

It was going to be a long afternoon.


The End