Despite the fact that Mulder is the last person on earth that anyone would think of holding a cool party, he had invited me, and I did come. I decided that the New Year (NOT the new millenium) warranted a silk shirt. I arrived in that, black jeans, and my glorious leather jacket. I knocked on the door of apartment 42. Mulder yelled, "It's open," and I let myself in.
The last time I ransacked Mulder's apartment it had been a mess. Boxes of files everywhere, porn in the closet, and dust coated every piece of furniture. Apparently tonight was a special enough occasion to merit cleaning the place. The wood smelled of Pledge, and the floors smelled of Pine Sol. Not a smidge of dust could be found. As I was admiring Mulder's handiwork, the man himself welcomed me in.
"Welcome," he exclaimed. "You're actually the last to arrive."
"Pardon my tardiness, headmaster. I figured we could use some nice champagne, so I picked some up on my way here."
"Great, great, I'll go put it on ice."
I stepped into his living room; Christmas lights still strung along the walls. Scully and Skinner stood by the punchbowl, laughing a little too hard from all that alcoholic egg nog. "Good evening all. When are we gonna 'pump up the jams?'"
Scully giggled and proclaimed, "You, Mr. Ratboy, are very funny."
"You, agent Scully, are very drunk. Mulder," I called to the kitchen, "you better tell Scully and Skinner to lay off the nog. No one wants to be passed out when the ball drops."
"Good point. I'm making the coffee now."
"Do you mind if I put in some music?"
Mulder replied, "No, go ahead. Put in some of that good disco music."
"Mulder, you're a man! Act like it."
"I believe in miracles, where you from, you sexy thang.."
"Alright, stop the madness. Which volume of Pure Disco?"
"The one with YMCA."
"Geez, I guess you must have gotten a lot of fruitcakes if that whole, 'you are what you eat' thing is true."
"Shut up, Krycek. Just 'play that funky music whiteboy..."
I popped in the cd and shook my head. This was gonna be a long night. I grabbed a carrot stick, and I sat down on the couch. There was still half an hour till midnight. Skinner stumbled around before falling back onto the couch to rest his achy head. Scully put on 'I Will Survive' and started belting out the lyrics. I got to my feet, and I moved some furniture to give her a dance floor.
"Thanks," she said.
"No problemo. This is a lot more entertaining than anything on TV," I replied.
So she sang, she danced, and she yelled at Mulder to come in. She dragged him out onto the dancefloor, but the shy bastard wouldn't bust a move. "You suck, Mulder," I taunted as I made my way to the dance floor. "C'mon, Scully, dance with a real man."
Mulder looked hurt and muttered, "You're no man; you're just a rat."
"That's my nickname. Use it, don't abuse it."
So she and I danced. Well, it was really more her watching me do my John Travolta-like dance moves to that 'swingin' '70s music. Skinner got up and fumbled to the bathroom, serenading us with the sound of vomit. Mulder walked over to check on how he felt.
"I'm fine," Skinner announced. "Just pour me some coffee."
"Some for the young lady too, Mulder."
We all stood in the kitchen. You know you've reached your thirties when you're content spending New Year's with 3 friends while listening to music and talking, instead of going clubbing or some other 'cool' thing.
"The time has come," I said looking at my watch. "We've got two more minutes. Turn off the music, and let's put on Dick Clark."
We all scurried to the tv and waited for the countdown to begin. Millions of people were on the tv, looking as cold as ice, while we lay cozy in Mulder's apartment. As if we weren't familiar with the procedure, Dick Clark explained every detail about the ball being dropped. What a bore! Just when I thought I couldn't stand it anymore, the 30 second countdown begun. Like a bunch of first graders, we sat riveted showing our counting backwards abilities. "10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Happy New Year!"
We looked to each other, and Scully, realizing she was the only female present, begged off the ritualistic kissing. I still wanted my kiss, so I turned to Mulder and planted one on him.
"Hey," he exclaimed. "What was that about."
"Well I had to someone, and it's not like we haven't kissed before."
Skinner and Scully raised an inquisitive eyebrow, and Mulder blushed. "Again that was you, not me wanted that kiss."
"Oh shut up, you know liked it," I retorted. "here's my New Year's Resolution, keeping a truce with you, Mulder."
"That resolution suits me fine. That means NO kissing."
"Why do you have to ruin all my fun."
With that we sat and talked. The year faded into the distance, and I felt glad that I'd come to this party. It's the most fun I've had in years.