Halrloprillalar hal@prillalar.com http://prillalar.com/ February 14, 1999 RATING: PG13. FANDOM/SPOILERS: X-Files. No spoilers. SUMMARY: Skinner/Pendrell. Oh, here is love, and here is truth. DISTRIBUTION: Archive anywhere. Email forwarding allowed. DISCLAIMER: CC, 1013, Fox, not me. NOTES: Many thanks to my friend Sergeeva who discussed this story with me and came up with the best ideas. THE BEST LAID PLANS by Halrloprillalar - hal@prillalar.com ++Valentine's Day++ Skinner ordered another beer. From his seat at the bar, he kept an eye on the door. If Pendrell was much later, they weren't going to have time to talk over dinner before the movies. He took a drink and concentrated on relaxing. Daniel was going to love this. Skinner had planned the evening carefully: first eat at The Why & Wherefore, then on to a special showing of all three Star Wars movies at the Opera Comique, a strange little theatre he'd found almost by accident. Not for the first time, Skinner gave thanks that Valentine's Day had coincided with George Lucas instead of the Ed Wood festival. The Force was with him. Still no Pendrell. Skinner pulled out his cellphone and called the little white house but the machine picked up. Daniel must be on his way. Unless...unless he hadn't gotten the message in the first place. Skinner checked his own messages: first, his suits were ready to be picked up from the cleaners, next, the building superintendent would be by tomorrow to fix the dripping tap, and then, a familiar voice, a very familiar voice. "Working late, Skipper? A policeman's lot is not a happy one. Haul your butt into the shower and then get spiff. We've got 7:00 reservations at Corcoran's, where we'll wine and dine, and then off to 'Pirates of Penzance.'" Shit. Throwing some bills on the bar, he headed out the door to hail a cab. After ten minutes and a lot of rain, he was on his way. Dammit, try just *once* to be spontaneous and surprise someone and look what happens. At the restaurant, Skinner caught sight of himself in a mirror in the foyer. He looked less than spiff. He went in anyway. The restaurant didn't have an official dress code, but he was still the only one in jeans and he was sure the waiters were looking down their perfect noses at him. The maitre d' showed him to the table, but Pendrell wasn't there. Now what? A waiter hovered so Skinner ordered a Scotch on the rocks to get rid of him. Then he waited. Was he *really* late? No, only 7:15. His drink arrived and he drank it. And waited. 7:30. No Daniel. Realising he was probably going to have to disguise himself before he could come back here anyway, Skinner pulled out his phone and braved the glares of other diners to leave a message on Pendrell's machine: "Daniel, I'm sorry I didn't get your message earlier. I'm at the restaurant now." To the point. Then he checked his own machine again. "Walter, I just got your message. I'm on my way to pour, O pour the pirate sherry; fill, O fill the pirate glass. See you there." Idiot. Skinner got up again, left some more cash, went out to get a another cab. In the rain. Only a seven minute wait this time, though, and less of a shower. The drive was faster and Skinner was almost sanguine things would still come together. The Why & Wherefore was fuller, louder, and smokier than before. Skinner wove his way through the tables, scanning the crowd, and ended up back at the bar. No Pendrell. The bartender came over. "Back again? Here." She set a shooter in front of him. "On the house. Made it by mistake." Still searching the room, Skinner nodded and tossed it back. Wow. He blinked a few times. The bartender picked up the empty glass. "You just missed your friend -- the redhead." Damn. "He left?" "Yeah, it's too bad. I have a break coming up and I thought we could get in a game of darts." Was it never safe to let Pendrell out alone? Skinner gave her a half-smile in reply. "How about you? You play?" She-wolf. "No." Stay or go? If he went now, he might catch Pendrell at Corcoran's. If he stayed here, Pendrell might come back. If he went now, he might suffer through another fruitless cab ride. If he stayed here, Pendrell might just give up and go home. "Want to learn? I could teach you." If he went now, he wouldn't get his ear talked off by this woman. If he stayed here, he could have another beer. "No, thank you. But I'll have a beer." Ouch, his wallet was nearly empty. Sipping his drink, Skinner wondered if he'd made the right decision. And why he felt so fuzzy after only four drinks. Food, that was it. No food, to be exact. No lunch, no supper. No Daniel. Daniel. He really should go after him. It was Valentine's Day and he should be out there tracking him down, not sitting here swilling beer, dammit. Skinner gulped the last of the beer and, while the woman had her back turned, headed out, walking just a little carefully. A cab pulled up right away for a change and Skinner rhymed off the address for Corcoran's. This time he'd tell the cab to wait. Stopped at a light, he peered out through the rain at other vehicles. How could anyone drive a teal-green car? Now, there was a great looking SUV. And that car looked a lot like... "Follow that car!" Skinner leaned forward and gestured at the driver. "What?" The man turned around and stared at him. "That car -- the black VW -- follow it." Was that so hard to understand? "Do you think this is a movie or something?" The Volkswagen turned a corner. Skinner knew he'd probably regret what he was about to do, or at least wake up in the middle of the night and cringe over it, but he was lickered up just enough not to care. He pulled out his badge. "FBI. Follow that car." The cabbie stared for a second, then peeled out in pursuit, getting the VW in sight just before it turned again. "Hurry." The cab sped up and screeched around the corner. Skinner's stomach lurched along a few seconds after. After a few blocks, they caught up. "Pull along side of him." "I don't want any trouble--" "He's not dangerous. Just do it." Sure enough, it was Pendrell. Skinner gestured and waved and finally managed to get his attention. Pendrell laughed and pulled into the first available parking lot, followed by the cab. Pendrell met him on the pavement, looking natty in a suit and tie. "Poor wand'ring one! I thought I'd never see you again." Skinner tried not to smile and failed. "First thing tomorrow, you are getting a cell phone." "Do I have to?" "No, but you will have to pay for my cab. I'm broke." Pendrell handed some bills to the cabbie who took them gingerly before hurrying off. "Dinner's on me too." He rummaged in his jacket pocket. "I have a coupon." Coupon? Skinner looked around and found that he was standing under the Golden Arches. "Anything. Let's eat in the car." "You're from that eat-in-the-car generation? Maybe we can get the Wolfman on the radio too." Pendrell squeezed Skinner's shoulder. "Back in a flash, Gordon." And he headed inside. Letting back the seat, Skinner eased himself into the passenger seat of Pendrell's car. He'd just lean back and relax for a few minutes. The smell of grease woke him. Pendrell unloaded a Big Mac and fries into his lap, then handed him a drink cup. "What's this?" Skinner eyed it suspiciously. "A chocolate shake." "And I'm holding it for you while you get settled in?" "I got it for you." After the stress and frustration of the evening, the Game was blessedly normal, almost appealing even. "I hope you're kidding and there's a Coke for me somewhere or I'll make you get that cell phone after all." Pendrell's blue eyes glinted. "OK, I confess. I just want to see you sucking on the straw." Skinner rolled his eyes. "You're joking." "Not at all. Take one good drink, then I'll give you the Coke." He patted Skinner's thigh. "Please?" "Just one." Skinner pulled on the straw with all the suction he could muster and, just before his cheeks collapsed inward, got a taste of almost-chocolate. "Good enough?" "Good enough." Pendrell swapped him for the Coke and for a few minutes they munched in silence. Watching Pendrell lick the ketchup off his fingers, Skinner thought about their shambles of an evening. If he had only discussed things with Daniel first, this never would have happened. "I'm sorry about...all this. I should have checked my plans with you." "No, my fault." Damp fingers brushed the back of Skinner's neck. "But I never thought you'd try to surprise me with anything." Skinner chuckled. "I've learned my lesson." Stuffing his garbage into the paper take-out bag, he checked his watch. 8:30. Not late, but too late. "I was going to take you to the movies but they've already started." "What were we going to see?" "Star Wars." The smile that lit Pendrell's face went a long way to cheering Skinner. "Walter, you are a romantic after all. But I happen to know that it's playing tomorrow night too. So don't think you've escaped." He squinted at the dashboard clock. "And if we go now, we can still make 'Pirates.' OK by you, Major-General?" "Sure." The last of the frustration melted away in the combined warmth of a full stomach, Daniel, and the prospect of Gilbert and Sullivan. Skinner felt light and carefree. Good. Happy. He leaned over and kissed Pendrell's cheek. Everything was perfect. As the car pulled out, he started humming, then singing under his breath, "Then I can hum a fugue of which I've heard the music's din afore, And whistle all the airs from that infernal nonsense Pinafore." Pendrell joined in the chorus. Well, almost perfect. F I N I S Halrloprillalar hal@prillalar.com http://prillalar.com/