Dana and Damon, Backdated to February 26

[om_starbuck]

After getting concerning text messages from Mulder, Dana asks for a night off and somehow ends up with a ride, too.

Mulder was in trouble. That much was obvious. Less obvious was how much trouble, what kind of trouble, and how much if any was due to him leaping before looking, but those things could all be figured out later. What was important right now was that she get to him, but the address he'd sent her was hours away, and that assumed that all the bus schedules worked in her favor.

Basically, she needed to leave now.

Unfortunately, she was in the middle of a shift at Evolution, which meant she had to go at least pretend to seek Damon's permission first. Dana quickly tucked away a crate of glasses, and headed for the back of the bar where Damon sat.

It didn't take long for Damon to notice the young barback headed his way, and he tapped the girl with him on the shoulder as he slid his arm out from around her. "Give me a minute, beautiful?"

Dana did not react to the glare the girl gave her as she sauntered away. Once she as out of earshot, she quickly said, "I'm am sorry, Damon, but something has come up. I need tonight, tomorrow, and the next night off. Please."

Damon's lips curled up on one side as he stretched back in his seat, fingering the glass in his hands. "I'm...thinking of a number between... one and no."

She frowned slightly, eyes narrowing on her boss as he nonchalantly annoyed and denied her. She felt the temper she had pulsing. Dana almost argued with him, but she forced herself not to. That wouldn't get her what she needed any faster. So, though it almost visibly pained her to do so, she said, "Please, Damon. I...I'll owe you one. But I really need to go. Please let me."

This time, he was the one narrowing his eyes. She clearly didn't want to beg, but was doing it anyway, which reeked of desperation. "What is this, a family thing? Family funeral? Military honors? Brother captured by ISIL?"

"A friend needs my help," and she would be no more specific than that. Hell, she couldn't be, really.

"Is this friend planning to drive into New York in the middle of the night to pick you up?" Damon drawled curiously.

She gave him a look, but admitted, "No. Which is why I need to leave as soon as possible."

Damon huffed a long-suffering sigh and pushed his drink away, sliding to his feet. "Fine, I'll take you. You can stop begging now."

Dana quirked an eyebrow at him. "It's three hours away," she said dryly.

Damon didn't wait for her, or really answer as he grabbed his jacket off the back of the booth and headed through the crowd toward the bar to tell the others that they'd be disappearing for a bit.

She hurried after him, her shorter legs putting her at only a slight disadvantage. Dana grabbed her jacket from a supply room, and followed Damon out. "You don't have to do this," she said, though a close look at her stance would reveal her gratitude.

He didn't even bother to look, just leading the way across the street and up the block toward the nearest parking garage. "I think I do."

"Care to explain why?" She asked, assuming he wouldn't deign to share his thought process with her.

"A, I don't pay you enough for you to take a cab. B, if you take a bus at this hour, you're going to disappear into a New Jersey apartment somewhere, never to be seen again, and then I would have to hire someone else to do inventory for me, and where the hell am I going to find someone who won't steal my best vintage?" Damon complained as he led her up the stairs to the corner where he kept his Camaro."

She ignored the insinuation as they reached the car. Dana went to the passenger side. "You're driving me up to Massachusetts so that you don't have to use Craigslist," she summarized. Not because she wasn't grateful, she was. But he deserved to know what he was getting into; this wasn't a quick jaunt.

Damon made a face as he slid into the driver's seat. "Please don't tell me we're going to Boston. Nothing good ever comes from Boston."

Dana slid into the passenger seat, unbuttoning her coat so as not to stretch it out and revealing the Evolution uniform she still wore below. "Not Boston," she promised him. Dana began tapping away at her phone to input the address Mulder had sent. "Falmouth."

Pulling out, Damon let her phone's GPS lead the way. "What's in Falmouth?"

"A diner, apparently," she said honestly. "That's where he is."

"Where who is?" Damon asked.

She looked over at him, and then shrugged as she turned back to look out the window. "My friend. The one who needs help."

"I think...that if I'm going to drive you all the way to Massachusetts, then I deserve to know what I'm getting into!" Damon smiled over at her, perfectly smug, but with a look in his eyes that meant every word.

She crossed her arms over her chest, and side-eyed him for a long moment. "Fox Mulder," she finally said.

Damon stuck his lower lip out in thought. "Am I supposed to know who that is?"

"Well you went to school together," she pointed out dryly.

"Please, like I can be expected to remember all of those whiners," he drawled.

Dana rolled her eyes. "You don't get to complain that I don't tell who I'm meeting if you haven't done your part," she informed him.

"So who is this Mold person?" Damon asked, glancing at her with a small smirk. "Old boyfriend? New boyfriend?"

Her cheeks pinked only a little at the insinuation; it coming from Damon only made it worse. Hopefully the shadows in the car would conceal it. "Friend friend. Not all of us only maintain sexual acquaintances," she said, voice prim.

He hummed low, then glanced over at her with a waggle of his brows. "Too bad. You should try it."

Dana's face was flushed bright red, but she managed to return, "I didn't think you were interested in the sexploits of someone as young as me." Well, with one notable exception (Dana had eyes and ears, after all), the hypocrite. She cocked her head, and then amended, "other than Cereza."

This time, he saw the flush, and was about to comment when the meaning of her words caught up to him. He flashed a wicked grin at her. "Sorry, sweetheart. Cereza's got a couple of years on you."

The look she gave him was a mix of honest surprise and disdain. "I'm not fourteen, so she and I are the same age."

The corners of Damon's lips slowly fell. He glanced over at her, regarding her with cool blue eyes. "No. She's eighteen."

"She's sixteen." Dana looked back out the windshield at the passing landscaping.

He narrowed his eyes for a moment as he looked back at the road. It had not been his intention to sleep with an underage girl. Then again, he'd never actually asked. She didn't look sixteen. Certainly didn't act like it. He wasn't sure how she'd gotten a burlesque job at her age. And...yeah, he felt a bit slimy about that too. He knew he was a creep...but he tried to draw a line somewhere.

And then there was the fact that Dana actually seemed to be pouting. If he hadn't been convinced of the crush before, he certainly was now.

"Okay, so...maybe I should have gotten a look at her ID," he admitted finally.

She shrugged as though unconcerned. "It's not any of my business." Which it truly wasn't, as she well knew.

Damon snorted, glancing over at her. "Then why bring it up, Gingersnap?"

"It seemed like relevant information."

"That you could have brought up any other time," he pointed out.

Dana huffed. "Fine. Whatever. Let's just go back to the status quo; we won't comment on the other's sex life, okay?"

Damon hummed under his breath, thoughtful. Apparently, she was more concerned about his sex life than he'd thought. He couldn't say he wasn't interested. Then again, he'd kept her at bay for two reasons - her age, and her resemblance to Lydia. It was all too tempting to fan the flames of her interest.

She took his silence as assent. It wasn't as though he cared who she was sleeping with - or, okay, not quite that far, but fooling around with - and this way she'd leave him alone. To Damon it was likely a win-win.

He was quiet long enough to flip through a few music stations and get them out of the city, but as soon as they hit a long dark road, he glanced over at her again. "So what's so important?"

"He just...said he needs my help." Mulder's sister, and what had happened to her (and to all of them), was his story to tell. Dana looked over at him. "I know it's not exactly descriptive."

He regarded her for a moment, then looked back at the road. "You trust him?"

Dana nodded. "I don't cut-out on a shift for just anyone."

"Good to know," he hummed under his breath.

She cut her eyes at him and then focused back out on the road.

It was a long few hours before they made it to a lit stretch of neighborhood where Damon pulled off. They hadn't been completely quiet for the drive, but it had certainly been awkward and tense. As he turned to look at her, he raised an eyebrow. "I could toss you in the trunk and drive home."

Dana looked at him skeptically. "You wouldn't." He had no reason to, after all. Not to mention that if he thought he actually could, he'd never fought a Scully before.

"I might," he argued stubbornly. "I could even compel you not to go see this guy."

"And why?" She challenged. "You've already lost the several hours of your life to drive here. Why change your mind now?"

"Maybe I don't trust him," Damon couched.

Dana managed not to roll her eyes, because it was sweet in a weird, Damon-sort of way. Or it would be if it wasn't currently so inconvenient. Still, she kind of appreciated it. "Do you trust me?"

"I shouldn't," he argued, but it was clear as he relaxed back into his seat, folding his arms over his chest, that he did, and wouldn't stop her.

Her expression softened. "Thanks. Sorry for skipping out on work tonight. And...possibly tomorrow night." Dana gathered up her things.

"Yeah, yeah. Go get yourself ax-murdered. Call if you've lost an arm," Damon told her cheerfully.