Author's Note: There's no sex in this story, or even anything vaguely X-File-ish, either, unless you count a wayward corned beef sandwich on rye. This vignette is strictly for fun, but I have to do the copyright song-and-dance now anyway: Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, and The X-Files are the property of Chris Carter/Ten Thirteen Productions. No infringement of copyright is intended, yadda yadda yadda. This story is for Emily, who came up with the idea in the first place. Lunch A Skinner/Scully Vignette by MelTaylor@aol.com 4/12/95 "Number 12! Number 12!" Dana Scully looked up from her magazine and checked her ticket. Oh, good---her sandwich was ready. She inched her way through the crowd at the counter and reached for the white bag, her mouth already watering at the thought of her turkey on cracked wheat with honey mustard, lettuce, and tomato. She squeezed back through the crowd and reclaimed her tiny corner table. She flipped the magazine back to the article she'd started last night and unwrapped her sandwich. Damn. She stared sadly at the corned beef on rye sandwich before her. Not again, she thought. *This* is why you stopped coming here, remember? She started to wrap up the corned beef. Mulder would eat it. Mulder would eat anything. She'd stop at the Wendy's across from the office and get a salad to eat at her desk. "I think that's mine," a deep voice said. She tilted back her head and stared up into Assistant Director Skinner's face. He held up an identical white paper bag. "Turkey on cracked wheat?" he asked. "Mine," she said with a slight smile. "That's what happens when you get stuck with number 13," Skinner remarked, waving his ticket. "Unlucky number." "Would you like to sit down?" Scully heard herself ask. He looked surprised at her offer. Behind the wire-rimmed glasses, his wing-dark eyebrows quirked. "Only if you promise not to call me 'sir'," he replied. "I've heard 'sir' too many times today." "Deal." Scully gestured at the vacant chair. He hooked it with one foot and pulled it out, doffed his jacket and draped it over the back of the chair. His movements were quick and graceful in their economy. her conscience piped up. She averted her gaze guiltily from the breadth of his shoulders and chest. "Where's Mulder?" Skinner asked, taking a huge bite of his sandwich. "He had a meeting with an anthropologist at the Smithsonian." Scully pointed at his tie. "Um---" "Crap." Skinner grabbed a paper napkin and swabbed at the blot of mustard on his tie. "I need a bib. Is this meeting at the Smith about the Blevins case?" "Yes, I think----" Scully stopped in mid-sentence as a good three-quarters of the corned beef in Skinner's sandwich shot from between the slices of rye, caromed off the table, and disappeared into his lap. She began to tear napkins from the dispenser. "Oh, Christ," he hissed, flinging mustard-smeared meat back onto the sandwich paper. "Thanks," he added, taking the napkins from her. "This is NOT a good place to have a stain," he commented, and she tried not to envision the area he was talking about. "Would it help if I told you that I once spilled an entire Coke in my lap and had to interview a suspect while looking like I'd wet myself?" Scully offered. Skinner's lips twitched. "So I'm not the only one who has these problems?" "Nope, sorry." She took a sip of her iced tea. "Did it leave a stain?" Skinner eyed his lap. "Oh, yeah. A big one. Thank God I don't have any meetings this afternoon." He sighed and pushed up his glasses. "What's that magazine you were reading?" "'The Armchair Detective.'" He looked surprised. "The May issue?" Scully felt her eyebrows climb. "Yes." "Huh. Wonder why mine hasn't come in the mail yet." He began to reassemble his sandwich. "I saw that look, Scully." "What look?" Scully asked innocently, biting back the reflexive 'sir' at the end. "You looked surprised." He seemed amused. "What, is it that unusual that I read?" "That's not why I looked surprised...*if* I looked surprised at all," she replied tartly. "I don't know when you find the time." "Same way you do," he said, taking a cautious bite of his sandwich. "Five minutes here, ten minutes there." "And then I tell myself I'll read a few chapters before bed----" she began. "---And you fall asleep two paragraphs in," he finished, smiling slightly. She returned his smile. "What are you reading now?" she asked. "'Murder in Georgetown,'" he replied. "Oh, the Margaret Truman series." "Read 'em?" "Loved 'em." "Uh, Scully," he said, and pointed at the corner of his own mouth. "Mustard." "Oh." She darted out her tongue and saw the way his dark eyes fixed on her mouth. "Did I get it?" "Uh-huh," he said softly, then seemed to shake himself. "What are you, uh, reading now?" "'Intent to Harm,'" she replied. "That one doesn't ring a bell," he commented, frowning slightly. "It's a new paperback. I think it's a first novel." "Any good?" "Yeah, very. Want to read it? I should have it finished in a few more days." "Sure." He seemed surprised and pleased by her offer. The thought made her sad. "I don't think," she began slowly, quietly, "that I ever thanked you for your help when Mulder disappeared a few months ago." "You don't have to thank me," Skinner said gruffly, his gaze flicking from hers. "Yes, I do," she persisted. "No, you don't," he replied, running one finger around the edge of his collar. "I only did what I was supposed to do." "And got the crap knocked out of you in the process," she reminded bluntly. He stopped looking uncomfortable, eyebrows rising. "You don't mince words," he commented. "So I've been told." Scully held his gaze. "Thank you for what you did." "Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're welcome," he muttered. He rubbed his upper lip with one finger and glanced at his watch. "I'd better get going. I'm up to my ass in reports." "I'd better get going too," Scully said, gathering sandwich remains and wrappings. They walked out into the mild spring sunshine together. "Tell me the truth," Skinner began. "What?" He stopped and turned to face her. "Can you see this damn mustard stain on my pants?" "Uh, nope." "Good." They walked in a comfortable silence back to the building. "I'll expect that book on my desk in a few days," he reminded as they went through the metal detector. "Yes sir," she replied automatically, then bit her lip when he gave her a pointed look. "What can I bring you in return?" he asked. "Surprise me," Scully replied. Again, the dark eyebrows went up. "I'll do that," Skinner replied. He gave her one last half-smile before turning towards the elevators. Scully smiled all the way to the cluttered office she shared with Mulder. ----end------