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In hindsight, they probably should have expected this from a case involving a winery.
“Oh, please stay for the wine tasting!” Mrs. Lancaster clasped her hands together in a pleading gesture that didn’t quite fit her upper-crust style and demeanor. “It’s the least we could do after you saved our crops. Free of charge!”
Mulder and Scully both stumbled over their words as they tried to refuse the offer.
“Oh, that’s-”
“We just-”
“We have our-”
“Our flight.”
Mrs. Lancaster simpered. “Why, that’s not until tomorrow!” She moved between the two and hooked each of their arms in one of hers, surprisingly strong as she led them into the ornate building. Inside, a crowd of other upper-class strangers were mingling before the tasting.
“Mrs. Lancaster, we couldn’t-”
“Oh, what the FBI doesn’t know won’t hurt them!” She winked before slipping back through the doors and closing them, virtually locking the two in with some of California’s most affluent.
It was one of the top wineries in the region with very “exclusive” tours and tastings. And by exclusive, they mean expensive. So much so that it was nearly only millionaires who could afford to attend in their crisp linen shirts and thousand-dollar sundresses. Which meant that Mulder and Scully — in their department-store business wear — stuck out like sore thumbs.
Everyone in the room seemed to give them a once-over at the same time. All drew the same conclusion that whoever these two were, they were not worth their highly valuable time. But the tasting soon started, which gave them something to do.
Mulder and Scully, as usual, stood apart from the crowd. They hung near each other and made no attempts to try conversing with the people who likewise were not interested in conversing with them.
Mulder looked around at the women in the room, who reminded him of his childhood summers at the Vineyard. The older women resembled his mother’s DAR friends in their pristine dresses and perfect, sparkling jewelry. The younger women — who were few and far between — made him think of the privileged, prissy rich girls from his boarding school and Oxford days. Ignoring the five S’s of wine tasting, he downed his next sample like a shot. Scully noticed.
Scully, meanwhile, observed the men in the room. Unlike Mulder, she hadn’t had much childhood experience with rich people. But she’d rubbed elbows — well, more like jabbed elbows — with a fair few in med school. The older men who used their status as esteemed doctors to try and take advantage of her, who didn’t care one lick about a patient’s well-being as long as they got their paycheck. The younger men who slept in class while their fathers paid for their grades, then would shamelessly hit on her as if she wanted anything to do with them. She downed her next sample like a shot. Mulder noticed.
Half an hour later, the two were on the verge of tipsy when one exceedingly brave soul decided to debase himself by speaking to them.
“So, are you two…” The younger man eyed them both up and down in assessment. “Businessmen?”
“Uh, FBI agents, actually,” Mulder said while Scully bristled at the fact that the man’s eyes had lingered on her chest for far too long.
“Ah.” They could both see the man’s mind failing to connect the dots between FBI agents and super-expensive wine tasting. “Well, if you’ll excuse me.” He left without waiting to see if they would.
“Must have been hoping to close a deal,” Mulder muttered.
Scully rolled her eyes. “If it weren’t for the alcohol, I’d say this is the worst thanks we’ve ever gotten for a case.”
He chuckled. “Then what would you say is the worst thanks we’ve ever gotten?”
She thought for a moment. “That time we were drugged and the whole town left.”
“I wouldn’t call that a thanks.”
“Well, it was still a pretty shitty end to a case.”
His eyebrows shot up at her curse. Her tongue must have been loosened by the alcohol.
“I’d say chasing a bug man through the California vineyards is pretty shitty,” he countered.
“Mulder, it wasn’t a bug man. It was a swarm of bugs.”
“No, I told you, Scully, it dissolved into a swarm after I shot the bug man.”
“Mulder, that doesn’t make any sense. How could one giant bug — or bug ‘man,’ as you put it — just dissipate into thousands of smaller bugs? Just because you shot it?”
“Wh- It left after that, didn’t it? And what about those fish that, uh, that school together to form one big fish?”
“They don’t actually form one big fish, they just look like one big fish in order to scare away predators.”
“Okay, well what if these bugs did the same thing? Or used to do the same thing, but now actually forming one big bug was the next step in the evolutionary chain?”
“That’s not how evolution works. And where does the ‘man’ part come in? You specifically said it was a bug man, Mulder.”
An older woman wearing a pearl necklace shot Scully a horrified look as she walked by, overhearing the conversation. Scully resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at her just to show her what she thought of this upper-class decorum.
“So you’re saying you’d rather believe it was...what? A plague of locusts? In Napa Valley?” Mulder asked.
“I never said it was a plague of locusts, Mulder. But infestations happen all the time. I still don’t even know why we were called out for this case in the first place instead of an exterminator.”
“Well, apparently if you own the best winery in the Valley, you can have the whole of the FBI at your beck and call.” Mulder’s tone was dry as he sipped his wine.
“Here, take mine.” Scully offered out her glass.
“You don’t like it?”
“Smells like vinegar.”
He had to agree, but at this point alcohol was alcohol. He knocked it back and put her glass down nearby, not noticing how she eyed him.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” The man who was leading the tasting spoke gently but still managed to gather everyone’s attention. “If you’ll gather ‘round, our next bottle is quite the specialty.”
Mulder went to follow the crowd, but was stopped by Scully pinching his jacket sleeve to hold him back. He looked down at her curiously, and she tilted her head as she turned away, indicating for him to follow her. He obliged, watching with raised eyebrows as she checked to make sure no one was looking before swiping an open bottle of wine and ducking out the side door. Stomach twisting with giddiness at her behavior, he quickly followed.
The side door led to the large processing area of the winery, which was thankfully empty at this time of day. Their quick steps slowed to a leisurely stroll as they got farther from the door, both feeling fueled by adrenaline as if they’d escaped some monster as opposed to rich people who couldn’t care less that they were gone.
“I hope you didn’t grab the bad wine,” he joked, sticking his hands in his pockets as they moved through the warehouse-like space.
Scully sniffed the open bottle before taking a large swig, making a loud pop sound as she pulled it away from her mouth and offered it to him. “S’alright.”
He tried to ignore how his heart skipped a beat as he watched her drink, clearing his throat before taking the bottle. “Where are we going?”
She shrugged. “I dunno. I just figured you were getting as tired of being around those people as I was.”
He nodded thoughtfully, taking a swig from the bottle. As he handed it off, he noticed her eyeing him with an unfamiliar expression. He thought he knew all of Scully’s looks, but this one was different. It was a cross between intrigue and...desire? No, that couldn’t be right.
But the way she averted her gaze, her cheeks flushed, made him wonder if maybe that was the right guess.
They rounded a turn and found themselves in a surprisingly secluded corner with a machine that could easily function as a bench for the two of them to sit on. Scully sat casually with her legs apart — the way she often did while in pants — and drank from the bottle.
They sat quietly for a while, passing the bottle between them. It was a companionable silence, both mulling over their separate issues with the people at the wine tasting. At one point, mind slightly numbed by the wine, he spoke up.
“We should probably stop drinking if we want to be able to drive back to the motel.”
With a look of defiance, Scully swiped the bottle from him and took a large gulp, holding eye contact the entire time. Mulder shifted in his seat, wanting to look away but feeling trapped in her gaze. She pulled the bottle away with another pop and continued staring him down. The room felt hot — nearly suffocating — and he wondered if she could hear how irregular his breathing was.
She arched a brow. “Only one of us needs to drive.”
He dropped his jaw in mock offense, grateful for the opportunity to play off how turned on he was. “So you’re just gonna keep drinking without me?”
“Mulder, this is thousand-dollar wine. It shouldn’t go to waste.” She smirked. “No matter how bad it is.”
He huffed a laugh and stole the bottle back, watching her raise her eyebrows in question as he took a sip. Eager to remark, he pulled the bottle away too quickly, a drop of wine rolling down the neck. He quickly caught it with his tongue on instinct, used to doing so with his beer bottles. What he wasn’t used to was Scully’s expression, which had rapidly switched from curiosity to something drastically different. He stared back at her, thinking how his desire was mirrored in her expression, as he slowly lowered the bottle to rest beside him.
In the blink of an eye, they both leaned in, lips crashing together with the urgency of two people who wanted each other more than they cared to admit. Her nails dug into his shoulder as his hand gripped her hair. They’d kissed before — minor ones, like the one at New Year’s. But this was messy and hungry, nothing at all like their previous encounters. She was straddling him before he’d even realized she moved, her hands grasping at any part of his torso she could reach. His hands moved in a similar way, both of them desperate to touch each other — to feel each other — as much as they could.
Scully moved from his lips to his jaw, then down his neck with fervor. He let out a sigh that was almost a moan. He swore he felt her grin against his pulse before grinding down on what was now a prominent erection. His moan wasn’t stifled this time as he tugged her back up by the hair and captured her lips with his again. Her hands wandered down to palm him through his pants, eliciting another moan before she started working at his button and zipper. Was she—?
The loud sound of a door slamming shut on the other side of the large warehouse interrupted them, making it so he wouldn’t find out what she was about to do. They both froze, then jolted apart for fear of whoever was here finding them like this. They righted themselves as quietly as they could, then ducked down in hopes of staying undetected by the intruder. Mulder didn’t dare look over at her as they both tried to calm their heavy breathing that was caused by multiple types of adrenaline.
Heels clicked loudly on the concrete floor, never coming near them as their owner briskly walked from one door to another. The second door clanked shut just as loudly.
They stayed stock-still, listening for any hints that there was anyone else in the room. After a few moments, they both let out equal sighs of relief. Mulder looked over at his partner, who was eyeing him with what he could clearly identify as lust. But there was reservation there, too. Maybe due to almost being caught. Maybe due to the fact that they’d almost just fucked for the first time in a winery. After seven years, it was far from how either of them had probably imagined their first time.
“We should-”
“Yeah.”
They stood up straight, fixing their hair and clothes even further. Scully glanced up at him, then mimed wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb, a sheepish expression on her face. Mulder took the hint and ungracefully wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He eyed the lipstick that came off with a small smile.
They started heading for the nearest exit but Scully stumbled a bit, grabbing his arm for support as she steadied herself. She kept a hold of his arm as they continued walking.
“Jeez, Scully, how much wine did you have?” He teased.
She didn’t respond, instead turning her head away from him so he couldn’t see her expression. Maybe it wasn't the wine.
“I think we should get back to the motel.” Her tone was casual, but her grip on his arm was suggestive of something else.
He swallowed thickly. There was no way he could drive their rental in this state of inebriation and arousal. And Scully was definitely in a similar — if not worse — way.
“Maybe we should call a cab.”
She smirked. “Maybe Mrs. Lancaster would be oh-so-grateful enough to lend us a limo.”