Champagne and Caviar 

By Humbuggie 

A VS10 Challenge 

© 2003 

san@sv-tales.com 



The challenge: write a shortstory under 35K revolving 

around the theme Valentine's Day. 

Was it a struggle? Yes! ?



Story: Mulder has a special Valentine's Day planned for his 

partner, but you didn't expect that to go well, did you? 



Type: MSR (sans sex), MT 





Champagne and Caviar 



I bought Scully champagne and caviar; both clichés to 

celebrate a special occasion, but effective ones. She'll never 

expect me to do such a thing; in fact, I made pretty damn 

sure she thought I had forgotten all about Valentine's Day. I 

have to admit: last year I almost did. 



But not this year. Nope: this time I had something 

extraordinary planned that will swipe her off her feet and 

hopefully straight into my eager arms. So I found myself 

standing in the small and cosy delicatessen shop two blocks 

away from my apartment building, to buy my partner-in-life-

and-crime everything I believe she deserves. 



Scully is particularly not a woman of luxuries but when they 

are offered to her, she is usually very impressed. So I 

decided that this year I would also invest time and cash in 

this money-sucking special day. 



I always liked getting her things. In fact, I buy them all the 

time. Yes, I know you don't think I'm a romantic, but I am. 

Sometimes. I admit though that I was never keen on 

Valentine's Day. 



I always found the 'forced special occasions' as I call them to 

be over-exaggerated. Why do you have to give someone 

something today, and not tomorrow, for example? Why not 

celebrate every day that you have with the one you love? 



Alas, Scully does like these types of days and after last 

year's – when I had almost forgotten it – I decided to do 

something out of the ordinary today. So, for this Valentine's, 

I ordered a cute little Miranda-teddy bear that I found in an 

online-shop. It arrived early this morning: a beautiful grey 

cuddly thing with a cute, little white T-shirt. I know that she 

will absolutely adore this. Hell, even I love it and I'm not a 

woman. 



I bought her another teddy too: a diaphanous one. Black 

and gorgeous and absolutely stunningly looking on a petite 

woman like her. She'll love that even more than the 

Miranda-bear. I do know my partner well, you know. 



But of course gifts don't complete a perfect Valentine's and I 

took advantage of the fact not many aliens are invading 

planet Earth at this time. I took my time in the delicatessen 

shop and tried out all the little nibbles the store manager 

has set out for the occasion: French cheeses and wines, 

Belgian chocolates, truffles, special oils and vinegars and 

carefully toasted bread. There were oysters too but I swoosh 

past them.  



I've never liked the looks of oysters but the store manager – 

celebrating his fifth anniversary right here in DC – offered 

them to me with a gracious smile. 

"These are rare Gulf oysters," a beautiful brunette shop 

assistant added as a sales pitch as if I am supposed to be an 

authority on the subject. "They are rarely served in 

restaurants these days but I can assure you that they taste 

fabulous. Here, try one. Your wife will love them." 



"No thanks," I said friendly, smirking at the 'wife'-comment. 

But the shop assistant kept on insisting that I should buy 

some for Scully.  

"Women generally love oysters," she added to finish off her 

pitch. 

She spoke the magic words of course and I did decide earlier 

that I would give Scully anything she would like. So what's 

the harm in buying a few oysters as well? If they truly are 

sexually arousing, as the shop manager winked in my 

direction, I could not leave them there, could I? 



Despite the woman's insistence to buy even more cheeses 

and chocolates and whatever, I finally left with what I came 

for: caviar and champagne, and a few oysters on the side 

for tonight's starters. After that, dinner would be served. 

I wasn't exactly an expert cook and of course she's not just 

getting the champagne and caviar. So I ordered a full dinner 

from the caterer that lives down the block. Dinner will be 

served at eight. And after that – well, you get the picture. 

Let's just say that import strawberries with chocolate crème 

will complete the task.



Early this morning I called Scully and asked her to come to 

my place around seven. We were supposed to be leaving on 

a late flight to LA for a new case, I explained, having her 

moan and groan at the injustices of life. Of course I didn't 

mention Valentine's at all, knowing that this would piss her 

off slightly. 

She'll be in for the shock of her life!



Yes, I admit it: I'm feeling quite content with myself. If 

Scully thinks I won't be able to surprise her anymore, she's 

wrong. 



I showered around six and tried to ignore the acid feeling 

building up in my stomach that warned me I was very much 

hungry; I sort of skipped lunch today. Since Scully wasn't in 

the office to warn me, I had completely forgotten to take a 

break. Skinner had wanted me to finish off two reports that I 

had lying around for the past days and I wanted to finish off 

early. 



I nibbled on a cookie after drying off and changed into my 

sexiest outfit: Scully's favourite boxers and black turtleneck 

sweater above a brand new blue jeans. I know Scully's crazy 

about me this way and I added a little of fabulous new Boss 

aftershave to complete the process. 



I hope she hurries. 



I lingered around in the kitchen and prepared our starters. 

The seven oysters I bought were lying around on a plate and 

I watched them in awe: slippery little suckers dancing on 

shells. I wondered what they taste like. Were they really 

sexually arousing? 



Finally, I couldn't resist the curiosity anymore: I just had to 

try one. Besides, I had to test if they tasted good. If they 

were horrible – as I expected – I could always throw them 

away and pretend I didn't just spend half my income on 

them. 



"Bottoms up," I said out loud, having a glass of water ready 

just in case. And the oyster slipped from its shell into my 

mouth. I could feel the sucker slither down my throat and 

am suddenly absolutely appalled. What is this: a 

delicatessen? My goodness, it tasted horrible! 



The strange taste lingered on for quite a bit. I'll never forget 

this one, I think after I emptied two glasses of water and 

nibbled on another cookie to get rid of the flavour. 

The oyster actually worsens the burning acid feeling inside 

my nearly empty stomach. Horrible! Just horrible!



I shoved the oysters back in the fridge amongst the other 

food I haven't touched in weeks and wiped my mouth. 

Suddenly she knocked on the door. 

Ah yes, this is it. 



"Mulder?" Scully asked before I could open the door for her. 

I deliberately blocked her view so that she would not see I 

have set the coffee table with candles. She looked at me, 

wondering why I wasn't wearing a suit. 



"Do we really have to leave tonight?" she groaned before 

she even realized what I had in store for her. I smiled when 

I noticed the way she was dressed:  I love it when she wears 

one of those gorgeous black outfit that express every curve 

of her body. 

She had a hair cut last week and her locks were dancing on 

her shoulders, waving with every move she made. She wore 

a light dash of make-up, just enough to accentuate her 

eyes. 



I smiled. "No, we don't have to leave tonight."

"What -?" 



I stepped aside and watched as she froze in my door 

opening when she noticed what I had done. Then she stared 

from me to the coffee table and back. Only then she saw 

that I was holding a single red rose in my hand. It's the 

smaller things in life that do the trick. 

Graciously I offered her the rose. 

"What -?" she repeated and I know it worked: she had 

absolutely no idea. 

"Milady." I offered her my hand and she took it. 



For the very first time in her life she is stunned. She opened 

and closed her mouth, staring at me as if I have been 

replaced by a clone. She does not know what to say. She is 

speechless. 



"Happy Valentine's Day," I grinned broadly. 

"I thought you'd forgotten," she said and I pulled her inside. 

I took her in my arms and kissed her gently. She dropped 

her bag on the floor and gasped slightly before our mouths 

touch.  



I took her by the hand and pulled her further inside. Then 

she saw the bottle of champagne standing next to the 

candles, and the small portions of caviar that I had arranged 

on a china dish. 



"This is amazing," she spoke in awe. "How did you – why –" 

"You thought I don't have a romantic bone in me, did you?" 

I grinned. "Guess again."

"But I don't have anything for you – I was pissed that we 

had to leave tonight and I didn't –" 

"Don't say a word." I placed my fingers on her lips and 

pulled her close to me. She grasped me and we just stood 

there, perfectly still. I took in her scent and she did mine. 

She truly was speechless. 



"Sit down," I whispered and she did. I knelt on the floor by 

her side and pulled my first gift from underneath the couch. 

She looked at the wrappings, tore it up and grinned when 

she saw the Miranda-teddy. 



"This is beautiful! Where did you get this?" 

"I went online shopping," I smiled. 

"You set this up the whole time, did you?" 

"Yep."

"And what if we had been on a case?"

"Then the teddy would have gone with us." 



I smiled mysteriously. "There is another gift that you won't 

be getting now. It will have to wait until after dinner." 

"Another gift?"

"Yeah, but you could call that one a present for me. I figured 

you wouldn't be getting me anything so I bought myself a 

little something."

She roared with laughter. "Porn movies, Mulder?" 

I laughed. "Maybe. But something tells me you'll like this 

even better." 



Within five minutes we were both completely at ease with 

each other, chatting and talking about so many things as we 

usually did, but I did start to build up that horrible acid 

feeling in my stomach again. I couldn't compare it with a 

hunger feeling. In fact, it felt almost painful. 



I tried to lean comfortably against the couch and fed my 

partner little portions of caviar. She laughed at my 

clumsiness. I poured two glasses of champagne too.

"A toast," I stated. "To many more years to come." 

She smiled and kissed me before drinking hungrily. I 

laughed. 

"Thirsty for more, Agent Scully?" 



"Mulder, you are so crazy," Scully roared and I could tell she 

was getting slightly drunk. An empty stomach and loads of 

champagne do that to you. "I never thought we would end 

up doing this some day." 

"You ain't seen nothing yet," I smiled. "In fact, tonight is 

going to be a night to remember forever." 

"I hope so." She leaned hungrily into me and her hands start 

caressing my chest. I knew where she was heading and 

grinned broadly as I pushed her away.  

"Hey, dinner comes first."

"You made us dinner?"

"Erm, I phoned for dinner, does that count?" 

She burst into laughter and embraced me. "My god, you are 

wonderful. I love you so much." 



"Now that's quite a reward," I grinned, leaned back and 

experienced a first sharp headache that cut through me like 

a knife. I forced back the feeling, ate some caviar myself 

and enjoyed Scully's excitement. This truly was a night to 

remember. 



I rose up and felt a floating sensation as I poured more 

champagne into our glasses. Damn, I'm getting old if I can't 

even take one glass of it anymore, I think, swaying slightly 

on my feet. 

I drank a bit more and shook off the dizziness. And Scully 

kept on drinking champagne. She liked bubbles. 



At that exact moment a hard knock on the door startled us.

"Dinner is served," I smiled and swayed towards the door. 

Scully laughed at my inability to stay straight on my feet 

and I realized she was experiencing the same dizziness too, 

brought on by the bubbles. 



Champagne danced around my stomach and there I was: 

feeling drunk as hell. And Scully leaned back on the couch 

and roared with laughter. I knew I could do anything with 

her tonight. She was giggling like a child. I should have 

waited with the champagne until she had eaten something. 



"Thanks," I said, offering the delivery boy a ten dollar tip. He 

tapped his cap, bared a mouth with a set of missing teeth 

and disappeared. I swayed back towards the living room and 

placed down the paper dishes carefully on the coffee table. 

By then Scully was stone drunk. I swear! 

She was laughing, giggling and chatting. 



I watched her and laughed with her, at the same time 

becoming disoriented. The room started dancing with me. I 

swayed on my feet while Scully somehow managed to place 

food on two plates. I watched her and realized I could not 

eat a single bite. Everything ached. 



I suddenly felt like throwing out everything inside my 

stomach. I turned towards her to tell her I was going to 

leave for a second but wasn't even able to tell her that 

anymore. Instead, I rushed towards the bathroom and 

managed to pull the toilet seat up just before I threw up the 

little bit of champagne, caviar and oyster I had in me. And 

apart from that followed bile. Lots and lots of it. What a way 

to celebrate Valentine's Day. 



I sighed and leaned back against the seat, too tired to even 

care that Scully had stumbled into the bathroom and was 

staring at me strangely. "You're drunk," she lulled and looks 

pale around the edges. 



I wasn't. Somehow I knew I was not drunk. Something was 

struggling hard inside of me to get out, and that something 

had to be the oyster. Even though most of it was out of me 

now, I felt like it was still killing me. 



I turned towards her, sat back heavily and groaned, "I think 

I need a doctor." 

That sobered her up alright. 





And so we ended up in hospital on Valentine's Night. 



I am not on a respirator, but an oxygen mask helps me to 

breath. I suck in the air because it's difficult to take deep 

breaths and have my body work on its own. My mouth, arms 

and legs tingle and I feel extremely weak. The constant 

headache has been reduced to something that can be called 

annoying. But at least it's not destructive anymore. The 

doctor told me I had a lot of good fortune on my side. Had I 

not thrown up, I would have been off much worse. If I had 

waited to come to hospital, I might have died. Yes, it was 

that bad. 



I ate the wrong type of oysters. 

The doctor explains to me that this particular sort has been 

proven to be very destructive in the past and is not served 

in restaurants anymore. But there are still a lot of chefs who 

take the risk because they taste excellent and are the best 

of the best. 



But they can also kill people. When you have the 

unfortunate luck of eating a poisoned oyster, like I have 

done, you are lucky to be alive. Of course shellfish poisoning 

can be treated. But it can also kill. 



I had the unfortunate luck of eating the best of the best. 

Look where it got me. I'll never forget the taste of oysters, 

that's for sure. 

 

Scully sighs deeply as she sits by my side while I rest up on 

a private room and try to ignore the last bits of nausea that 

continue to creep up now and then. I don't know if she sighs 

because of me, or because of the splitting after-the-bubbles-

headache she is experiencing. I hope it's the latter. 



Finally she gives up and crawls into bed with me, holding 

onto me as we both fall asleep. She is not exactly wearing 

the diaphanous teddy or anything that looks like it, but at 

least she is beautiful as ever, and made me laugh. 



In the morning, as I am waking up with bright sunlight 

dancing on my face, Scully wakes up too feeling the way she 

looks: hung over. 

And I smile, take her in my arms and kiss her. 



"Next time, just buy me a porn video," she smiles. 





The End