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Distribution: Ephemeral, Gossamer, or if you've archived me before,
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addy, etc. attached. Thanks!
Spoilers: Season 6
Rating: R
Classification: Vignette
Keywords: Mulder/Scully UST
Summary: Sometimes the strangest thing can be a catalyst.
Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine. They mostly belong to
the actors who portrayed them, but Chris Carter created them,
and Ten Thirteen and FOX own the rights. I mean no infringement,
and I'm not making any profit from them. But I am forever grateful
for their existence!
Most of this story takes place some time after "The Rain King"
and before "Tithonus." More notes at end.
=====
Green Tea and Mint
by ML
January 1999
The cold was intense, which was to be expected in North Dakota in
January. After a day outside, Mulder's skin felt like someone had
rubbed sandpaper on it.
He looked in the mirror and briefly contemplated growing a beard to
avoid the inevitable razor burn. At least that decision could wait
until morning.
They had three more places to check and he sincerely hoped that
they'd get done and out of there before the next snowstorm hit.
The sky had been gray and threatening since they'd arrived, though
so far there'd only been a smattering of snow. The wind blew so
hard in some areas it scoured the snow right off the ground, leaving
large gray-brown patches of earth and dead vegetation. The ground
was hard, dry, and inhospitable looking. It was easy to believe
that a ton of fertilizer would be needed to grow even weeds.
Scully knocked on his door and then walked in. "Are you ready to
go to dinner?"
"Yeah." He examined his skin in the mirror, turning this way and
that. "Hey Scully, how do you think I'd look with a beard?"
"Hairy," said Scully, walking over to stand beside him. They both
looked at their images in the mirror. Scully's face was smooth and
pale, as always. He envied her makeup. "What's this about?" she
asked. "Thinking of quitting the FBI and becoming a plainsman?"
"No," Mulder replied, rubbing his chin. It stung and his lips
were chapped. He pulled at the lower one and felt the roughness
against his fingers. "I feel like I got a sunburn today, without
the fun of being on the beach."
"The cold dry air will do that," Scully said. "I know from
experience. I have something that might help a little, though."
She went back to her room and returned with a small flat tin in
her hand. She showed it to Mulder.
It was gold in color and had some sort of flowers and fancy writing
on it. Mulder recoiled slightly. "You're not gonna try and make
me wear some girly stuff, are you?"
"Come here, Mulder," Scully said in a voice that brooked no
argument. He stood in front of her, and she put her hands on his
shoulders to make him sit down on the end of the bed.
She showed him the tin again. "It's just lip balm. It has no color
and just a slight scent. Here." She slid the box open and waved
it under his nose.
He took a small whiff. It did smell nice, mostly of mint but with
a slight musk undertone. It seemed familiar. "What's in it?"
he asked.
"It's made with green tea and mint extract," she said.
"Do you use this stuff?" he asked her.
"Sometimes," Scully said. "The air in the autopsy room can be
very drying."
Mulder closed his eyes and sniffed again. It did smell like Scully
a little. Just one component of the many things that reminded him
of her. Some, like this one, seemed to be situational.
Did it mean that whenever he smelled this now he'd associate it
with an autopsy bay? He hoped not.
"Mulder?" Scully stood waiting with the open tin in her hand.
"Do you want to try it or not?"
He shrugged. "Sure. Would you put it on? I might mess it up."
Scully rolled her eyes, but she rubbed her fingertip over the
surface of the lip balm and then touched her finger gently to
his bottom lip, holding his chin with her other hand.
The minute Scully's finger touched his lips, Mulder knew he was a
goner. Almost, he could believe it was Scully's lips sliding over
his own, not just her finger. The slightly waxy texture of the lip
balm allowed her finger to slide smoothly. She ran it back and
forth over his lower lip, then did the same for his upper. He
closed his eyes to concentrate on the sensation. He felt Scully's
breath fan his face just a little.
The mint smell was soothing and didn't make him think of autopsies
at all. He licked his lips a little. It tasted slightly sweet.
It tasted the way he thought Scully's lips might taste, if he were
so bold as to kiss them.
Scully said, "If you lick your lips like that, you'll lick it all
off."
He grinned, thinking of licking things off of skin other than his
own. But Scully had already turned away, tucking the small tin
into her pocket.
"I don't suppose you have anything non-girly I could put on my
face?" he asked.
"Sorry Mulder, you probably wouldn't want to smell like lavender
or peach," she said. "We could probably find a Wal-Mart on the
way back from dinner and find you something, though."
He had a brief image of Scully rubbing lotion between her hands
and then applying it gently to his face. He blinked and shook
his head. "No, I'll tough it out. Makes me more manly,
don'tcha think?"
"Sure, Mulder," Scully agreed dryly. "Very manly."
He was surprised at himself, entertaining such thoughts when they
weren't really getting along all that well. They were off the
X-Files, Scully was in deep denial about the whole Antarctica
thing, and he was having a hard time distinguishing the good
guys from the bad guys. Or gals, as the case may be.
In other words, business as usual. He'd come close to
confessing his undying love to her on a couple of occasions,
but lately they both seemed more inclined to watch each other
warily from their respective corners.
It hadn't helped that they'd gone from the scorching deserts
of Utah and Arizona to the frozen wastes of North Dakota in
the space of a few weeks. No wonder, he thought sarcastically,
they were running hot and cold.
He was tired of it. He was tired of Kersh trying to make him
quit, and he was tired of pretending that all he felt toward
Scully was partnerly affection. He knew things weren't right
between them, but he was sure that it was fixable. If
confrontation wouldn't work, maybe indirection would.
He could do subtle. He would show Scully in all kinds of
small ways, how much he needed her and appreciated her.
x-x-x-x
The application of the lip balm became a nightly ritual. Mulder
would come in and sit on Scully's bed, pursing his lips at her
and closing his eyes.
Though she could barely admit it even to herself, Scully
enjoyed it nearly as much as Mulder. She liked the feel of
his soft lips under her fingers. She liked looking at the
way his eyelashes lay against his skin when he closed his
eyes. She took to holding his face in her hands and using
her thumbs to lightly rub the balm onto his lips. His mouth
moved under her fingers, almost as if he was kissing her as
she worked.
He always opened his eyes slowly when she said, "All done,"
like waking from a trance. He had a dazed look in his eyes.
She liked knowing she'd put it there.
Things weren't entirely right between them, and she could
acknowledge to herself that it was her fault as much as his.
But she couldn't bring herself to say it. Mulder was
insufferable when he was right, and he wasn't right. Not
entirely.
Away from Washington and the X-Files, however, she saw him
in a different light. He wasn't happy with the assignment,
but he soldiered on. It might be that if something more
interesting should come up, he'd be on it. But right now,
he seemed a little chastened by his previous behavior.
Perhaps the fact that Kersh had come down so hard on her
had something to do with it.
She did feel sorry for him. It seemed a terrible reward
for having saved her in Antarctica.
x-x-x-x
Every night, they returned to their motel thinking it would
be their last night in North Dakota, and every night there'd
be another call from Kersh's assistant, telling them they'd
been given another farm to investigate, usually halfway
across the state from where they were.
"I think he's determined we'll cover the whole state of
North Dakota. We'll be here until the spring thaw," Mulder
complained at dinner one night. "They'll find us in a
snowdrift somewhere."
Scully didn't say anything and he was reminded uncomfortably
of the not so distant past, when they *had* almost perished
in a snowdrift.
It didn't bear thinking about. He opened his mouth to say
something, anything, to change the subject.
For once, the waitress had good timing and came up with
the coffee pot, making eyes and small talk at Mulder. When
she wasn't looking, he raised his eyebrows at Scully, who
rolled her eyes at him. This was a common occurrence in
the kind of places they ate, and therefore very safe ground.
x-x-x-x
She dreamed of Antarctica that night. It was cold, so cold.
Colder than she could remember in her waking hours. And not
numbing cold, either. She was painfully aware of her limbs
encased in ice, and of a point of heat somewhere deep inside
her, like a live coal. A heat that spoke of danger and coming
doom, but there was nothing she could do about it. Everything
but her brain was frozen in place.
Then slowly, gradually, she felt a warming. Not the fearful
kind but a human warmth, of flesh against flesh, spreading
all around her. Then, a familiar voice, trickling warmth
into her ear, adding to the slow warmth where he massaged
her skin.
Then...warm lips over hers, forcing air into her lungs.
So he had kissed her, in a way. At least in her dreams.
She was never sure what she'd dreamed and what was reality.
Mulder wouldn't tell her many details. He said, "I found
you," and left it at that. Everything else was a jumble of
feelings and flashes of memory and she was never sure what
was real and what wasn't.
But she knew it had been his lips against hers, his breath
filling her lungs.
She remembered, or dreamed, smiling up at him and making a
feeble joke.
She remembered, or dreamed, him smiling back and whispering
a barely-heard "I love you."
Dream or reality? She moved restlessly, still asleep and still
back in Antarctica, so cold except for the memory of Mulder
touching her.
x-x-x-x
Mulder wasn't really asleep when he heard Scully in the next
room. He'd closed his eyes and fell into a light doze, a
purloined casefile open on his chest.
He sat up at the slight noise, unsure if he'd heard or dreamed
it. Had Scully called out, or had he been dreaming again? He
had too many dreams where Scully called for him, needing his
help, and he'd been unable to get to her.
It had happened too many times in real life, too, and he wasn't
going to take the chance of it happening ever again. He quietly
got up and put his ear to the wall. He listened for a while,
and heard nothing more.
He could feel a cold draft seeping under the outside door,
making his toes curl on the rough carpet. The cold always
reminded him of Antarctica now.
He wondered what Scully remembered. Nothing, he hoped. He
deliberately hadn't told her much afterward. It was bad
enough that he'd seen what They'd done to her. He'd urged
her to recover her memories in the past, but not anymore.
It was no wonder she denied what had happened. There was
plenty he'd blocked out himself, and though he was sure he'd
seen the alien ship take off, he'd been on the point of
unconsciousness. He clung to his belief, but he had no
memory of getting out of there. The next thing he knew,
he'd awakened in a hospital bed and done his usual job of
endearing himself to the staff, shouting the place down
until they told him where Scully was.
He could have kicked himself for the comment about freezing
to death at dinner that night. Her frostbite had hardly
healed, and here they were in one of the coldest places in
the country. Kersh had a mean sense of humor.
He leaned against the wall, bracing his hand against it as
though he could feel Scully on the other side. If he wanted
to check on her, he'd have to go outside since there was no
connecting door between their rooms. What kind of lame-ass
motel in the middle of Frozen Hell, North Dakota, had no
communicating doors, and only outside corridors?
He heard the sound again. It was definitely Scully. Without
hesitation he slipped his shoes on his bare feet, shrugged
on his wool overcoat, and went out the door.
Jesus, it was cold. It was like a slap in the face. He
jogged in place as he fitted the spare key into Scully's door.
"Scully?" he called softly. He didn't want to startle her
into shooting him. He could see her form, huddled under the
covers. Was she shaking? He called her name again, seeing
vapor issue from his mouth as he did so.
Why was it so cold in here? He placed his hand on her heater
and it was stone cold. He had half a mind to go bang on the
manager's door with the butt of his gun, but it occurred to
him that there was a better way to handle this.
Cautiously he approached Scully's bed. She was curled up
into a tight little ball. She *was* shivering. "Scully,"
he said again in a loud whisper.
No response but a low moan. Without further ado, he leaned
down and scooped her up, blankets and all, carrying her to
the door. "Hang on, Scully," he said softly as she half-
roused in his embrace.
"Cold," she whispered. "So cold."
It appeared that she was still in the throes of a dream.
Mulder clutched her more tightly. He shouldered her door
open and kicked it closed after them. Scully jumped in his
arms but still seemed lost in her dream.
He fumbled around for his own key and managed to get the
door open without dropping Scully. The warm air in his
room greeted him like a kiss. He set Scully down on the
bed and tucked his blankets around her. Gingerly he lay
on top of the covers, still in his overcoat.
He edged closer to her and put his arm around her, hugging
her to him. "It's okay," he whispered. "I've got you."
Gradually she stopped shivering and the tenseness began to
leave her body. He stayed where he was, enjoying the
closeness now that the crisis was past.
"Muh?" she said incoherently. "Wh--?"
"Shh," he said soothingly. "Just a bad dream. Go back to
sleep. You're okay."
"Mm," she said. "Warm. So cold before."
"No more cold," he said, and daringly dropped a brief kiss
on her cheek. He held very still, afraid she'd wake up fully
and demand to know what was going on.
Her breathing grew softer and slower, and gradually Mulder's
did, too.
x-x-x-x
"Mulder."
"Mulder."
He raised his head groggily. Why was he in his overcoat?
And why was Scully sitting on his bed? In her pajamas,
wrapped in a blanket?
"Mulder, why are you lying on my bed in your clothes?"
Scully asked.
It was barely light outside. Memory came rushing back as he
sat up.
"Actually, you're in my bed, Scully," he said unsteadily,
clearing his throat of its morning raspiness.
Scully looked around in the dimness. Sure enough, Mulder's
bag was deposited in the corner, and his suit and tie strewn
over the chair.
"Why -- how --?" She couldn't seem to form a coherent sentence.
She'd only awakened a few moments before, from a wonderful, warm
dream, to find Mulder snoring gently in her ear. At first she'd
thought it was part of the dream, and then she'd caught a whiff
of morning breath. Dreams didn't usually have morning breath.
Finally she managed, "How'd I get here?" Had she been drugged?
Had she sleepwalked? Certainly she'd fallen asleep thinking of
Mulder's lips but this seemed extreme, especially since she would
have had to walk outside to get to his room.
"I carried you," Mulder admitted reluctantly, sitting up and
rubbing his hands through his hair. He thought he probably
looked like something the cat dragged in, while Scully looked
adorably tousled and drowsy-eyed.
"Why?" she asked. Her brain was too fuzzy; she couldn't think
of any reason why Mulder would do such a thing, unless he'd perhaps
been drugged or otherwise coerced. He certainly looked drugged.
His eyes were dark and half-closed, and his morning stubble was
thick. His lips, however, looked soft and inviting. She tried
not to stare at them.
"Your heater was broken and your room was freezing," he said.
<Oh please don't ask how I knew that,> he thought.
"You're not serious," she said.
Mulder nodded solemnly. "You know that scene in `Dr. Zhivago?'
It was that cold, except without the pretty snowdrifts."
Scully still looked skeptical, as well she might.
"It's true," he insisted. Why did she question everything he
said?
Scully was actually relieved to hear such a simple explanation.
With the kind of life they led, it could have been anything.
She could recall at least one occasion when they woke up together
in the same motel room, with no recollection of why or how.
She relented and gave Mulder a small smile. "I believe you,"
she said.
He felt like making an entry in his datebook to commemorate her
utterance, but thought better of calling attention to it. He
was supposed to be showing her how he appreciated her, not how
annoyed she sometimes made him.
"I'm sorry, Scully," he said. "I could have called the manager,
but I knew it would take a while and you needed to get warm."
She smiled again. "It's okay, Mulder, really. If not for you,
I might have frozen to death. Thank you."
He smiled back. Maybe they really could get the hang of this
partnership thing.
x-x-x-x
It was funny, but the outside air didn't seem as cold that day
to either of them as they drove to their next destination across
the plains of North Dakota.
Scully thought about the night before a lot during that day.
Mulder did, too.
By late afternoon, there were even glimmerings of weak sunshine.
The snow might hold off another day. The motel they stopped at
for the night seemed marginally better than the last one, with
interior hallways from the lobby. Scully laughed at dinner.
And Kersh's assistant called to say they were needed back in DC.
Scully was almost sad about returning to Washington. The assignment
was ridiculous, but it had given them some time to regroup. She
wondered if this new camaraderie would continue once they returned
home, or if this would be the end of the idyll.
That night, Mulder decided to go for broke. When they got back to
their rooms, he gave her a call.
"Hey Scully, I think `Fargo' is on tonight. Wanna come watch it?"
"It's not enough that we're living it?" she asked, but she came
anyway.
He presented himself for his nightly lip therapy and sat quietly
while Scully administered treatment.
Then he asked, "Can I return the favor?" and held his hand out for
the little metal box.
She handed it over. He made her sit on the bed and he knelt in
front of her. Slowly he slid the box open and swiped his thumb
across the surface. He held her chin steady with his other fingers
as he pressed his thumb lightly against the center of her lower lip
and smoothed it one way, then the other, slowly and thoroughly.
Scully had closed her eyes as soon as he'd knelt in front of her.
Now she opened her eyes to see his face so close. His eyes were
on her lips, his expression intent.
What would happen if she kissed his thumb?
Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. She puckered her lips and
kissed his thumb.
Mulder went entirely still. He looked up at Scully. She looked
at him.
Very slowly, he braced his hands lightly on her knees, leaned
forward, and pressed his lips against hers.
She pressed back. She felt his lips part a little under the gentle
pressure, and she let her tongue touch his lower lip.
He shuddered. Not from cold, she noted. It was toasty warm in
the room, and getting warmer by the second.
Their lips were barely a centimeter apart and Mulder closed the
gap. This time they clicked together like magnets. Scully reached
for him and completed the connection.
She tasted so good, even better than he'd imagined. Her lips were
soft and pliant, slick and sweet. He invited her to explore him
further and felt a surge of joy when she did, slipping her tongue
between his eager lips.
She held his face in her hands and he leaned into her, his hands
sliding up her thighs to grasp her waist. It seemed fitting to
him somehow that he was kneeling in front of her as if in
supplication.
The were both reluctant to end the kiss. It was a culmination and
a commencement, and each knew instinctively there would never be a
sweeter moment between them. They pulled back slowly, still holding
onto each other, returning again and again for another touch of lips
to lips.
Mulder reached up to Scully's face, stroking her soft cheeks with
his thumbs. She rested her forehead against his and they each
fetched a sigh at the same moment.
"Mulder," Scully said, her voice throatier than he'd ever heard
it, a sound that went straight to his groin.
"Yeah, Scully?" he asked. His voice was different to his ears,
too. It sounded the way he felt: filled with wonder and longing.
Instead of answering, she let go of his face and sat up. He let
his hands slide down to grasp hers and he sat back on his heels,
looking up at her expectantly.
Scully stood, drawing him up to stand as well. She wrapped her
arms around him, laying her head against his chest.
How many times had they stood like that, offering and receiving
comfort and support? More than he cared to enumerate, and fewer
than he wanted. He wanted to hold her like that always.
x-x-x-x
Eventually they ended up on the bed, lying side by side.
They continued to kiss each other, savoring each kiss as a
separate and distinct event. Mulder rested his warm hand
on Scully's hip; she had hers on his waist. Other than their
lips, they touched nowhere else. It hadn't even occurred to
either of them to undress. The fascination of kissing was
enough for now.
Scully could feel Mulder's body moving under her hand. She
opened dazed eyes to realize that while he kissed her, he was
moving to some rhythm of his own. She blushed and realized
that she was squirming, too, and recognized it for what it was.
He wanted her. She wanted him, too. She'd known it for a
long time but had refused to acknowledge it until now.
She pulled away slightly from Mulder and was amused to see the
way his lips sought after hers. She moved her hand from his
waist to his cheek, enjoying the prickly feel of his evening
stubble. They would have matching rosy cheeks: his from
windburn, hers from beard burn.
He was staring at her as she mused about this, his lips in
an endearing pucker. "Scully?"
How could she put this delicately? "I was just wondering if
you were interested in doing anything more than, um, kissing."
She knew she was blushing and Mulder's big grin didn't help
matters any.
"Are you coming on to me?" he asked, still grinning. His
plan had been to kiss Scully, and see where it took them.
Not much of a plan, he realized, but it seemed to be working.
It was interesting that Scully now seemed to be the one in
the driver's seat.
She rolled her eyes at Mulder's remark without answering him.
She should have seen it coming.
"I withdraw the question," he said, turning to kiss the palm
of her hand. "The short answer is, hell yes."
"But...?" Scully prompted.
"Well, look at where we are. I guess I thought that if this,
uh, if we did this, it wouldn't be in some no-name motel in
the middle of nowhere."
"I'd think that it'd be the most likely place," Scully said.
"We're hardly ever home, so the odds would be in favor of it."
Mulder made a face at her. "I wasn't thinking about logic,"
he said. "I just thought it would be a little more...I dunno,
romantic?"
Scully smiled. "Oh, Mulder," she said. She leaned in to kiss
him, and couldn't finish her thought for several long moments.
When she could draw breath, she continued, "I'd say that it's
romantic *because* of the surroundings. That we could find
something good amongst all this bleakness." She kissed him
again. "It's special because it's us, and who we are, not
where we are."
"I bet you say that to all the guys," he teased her.
"Just one guy so far," she said, which prompted another long
kiss.
When Mulder released her, he asked, "I was just wondering,
why the rush? We've waited this long."
"Because we've waited this long," she said.
Mulder frowned. Part of him wanted just to go with the
situation, but this meant too much to screw up. "For someone
who's usually so logical, you're not making a lot of sense,"
he said.
"For someone who usually takes things on faith, you want an
awful lot of explanation," she countered. She'd thought this
was something that he wanted, even more than she did. Why was
he questioning it?
"I'm not trying to question your motives, Scully, especially
if I'm the beneficiary. I guess I just wanna be sure that you
want it as much as I do."
She thought she could hear the subtext in his question. Did
she want him as much as he wanted her? She'd done too good a
job of hiding her feelings over the years, she supposed, but
part of her couldn't resist teasing him a little.
"You want to know if I'll respect you in the morning?" She
asked.
Mulder looked at her with more seriousness than she expected.
"Something like that, yeah."
"Oh, Mulder," she said again. She briefly considered telling
him what she'd told Sheila that night in Kroner, since they'd
caused a sort of epiphany for her. But in the end, they were
just words. She proceeded to show him in other ways.
She took his face in her hands and kissed him very lightly on
the mouth, then kissed his eyelids, and his mouth again. She
scooted closer to him, pressing her body against his, and lay
her head on his chest, with her hand over his heart.
Mulder felt a little stunned by Scully. She never ceased to
amaze him. He sure couldn't follow her thought processes. Now
he lay looking up at the ceiling, with Scully pressed against
his side, and wondered. Why, after all this time, and all the
very large hints he'd dropped, Scully decided that the time was
now.
On the other hand, he didn't want to spoil this gift by
questioning it. Maybe Scully was right, and it was best
to explore this side of their partnership away from the
prying eyes at home. He wondered if he could convince Kersh
to keep them out in the field a while longer. Discovering
this on the last night of their assignment struck him as
crappy timing.
He kissed the top of Scully's head and she looked up at him.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked.
"I'm just reminding myself of something," he said. When she
looked questioningly at him, he added. "'Don't ask why or
wherefrom; just enjoy your ice cream while it's on your
plate.'"
"What do you mean?" Scully asked.
"Don't get me wrong," Mulder said. "This *does* mean a lot
to me. I hope you know how much. I just want to make sure
we're on the same page."
"I think, for once, we might be," she said. She couldn't stop
touching him. She traced her fingers over his face, following
with a trail of kisses.
"So am I the ice cream you're referring to?" Scully asked
between kisses.
"No," Mulder said. "You're everything."
There didn't seem to be any need for talking for a long time
after that. Mulder had actually been pretty well convinced
from the moment Scully touched her lips to his. He just loved
listening to her. One of his chief joys had always been
conversation with her, whatever the subject.
Now he discovered things he loved even more than Scully
talking. Scully warm in his arms. Scully nibbling on his
ear. Scully breathing soft sounds of encouragement as he
trailed kisses down her cheek and the underside of her chin
and against the pulse in her throat. He gladly got down to
the serious business of making love to Dana Scully.
For a few moments Scully let herself enjoy the attention Mulder
was lavishing on her. She returned his kisses with enthusiasm.
But when he started exploring beyond her lips, she contented
herself with touches and strokes on his face and hands to
encourage him. She was definitely an equal partner on this
journey but she let Mulder blaze the trail for now.
He kissed his way down her throat and veered off to pull aside
her collar to run his tongue along her collarbone. He nuzzled
the spot where her neck and shoulder met, sucking lightly,
marking her. She shuddered with delight. Her whole body was
floating suspended as she felt his fingers at the buttons of
her blouse, though her heart was beating harder than it ever
had before.
Mulder put his lips over her heart and he could feel its
throbbing against his mouth. She smelled wonderful. The
slightly musky scent he thought was from the lip balm must
have been essence of Scully. It surrounded him, arousing him
more than he'd thought possible. He nipped lightly at the skin
above her breast, then kissed it, nosing along the edge of her
bra to kiss the spot just between the swells of her breasts.
Scully kept her eyes closed, concentrating on the feel of
Mulder's hands and lips. Her hands were in Mulder's hair.
She knew if she looked down she'd see the top of his head
moving one way and the other, kissing the sides of her breasts,
using his nose to nudge the satin cups covering her, his mouth
questing for more.
His hands fumbled behind her and she arched up a little so he
could reach the hooks in back. Hooks undone, he skimmed her
blouse off her shoulders so that he could remove the
undergarment completely. He sat back on his heels to survey
what he'd uncovered, unbuttoning his own shirt as he stared
and stared.
She thought she'd feel uncomfortable under his gaze, but she
was too distracted watching his fingers as they worked at his
shirt buttons. At last he too was naked from the waist up,
and he lay down next to her.
Another protracted kissing session commenced. Mulder wanted
this moment, every moment to last. He moved as slowly and
deliberately as he could, enjoying the feel of Scully's skin
against his. He reveled in the brush of her breasts against
his chest, the tastes and textures of her mouth and skin.
Scully was in a similar state. The feel of his warm skin on
hers was a surprise. He was much softer than she'd imagined.
All those hard muscles, encased in the softest skin. She just
wanted to touch him, and so she did, stroking his arm and chest
as he closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing.
Still neither of them spoke. They took their time, signaling
by touch and sigh what each liked, eyes frequently making
contact to see what the other was thinking and feeling.
Mulder traced his fingers around Scully's nipples. They were
very sensitive, growing more rigid at his slightest touch.
He lowered his mouth to one and Scully's gasp was music to
his ears. He took his time licking and suckling each in turn.
But though his brain wanted slow, his body demanded instant
gratification. His thigh brushed against Scully's leg,
dangerously close to his cock as it strained against his
pants.
Scully couldn't control her body. She squirmed under Mulder's
touch, not wanting him to stop what he was doing, but impatient
to explore him some more, too. She ran her hand down his arm
to his waist and let her hand brush further down, coming in
contact with his erection.
Mulder pulled back abruptly, meeting Scully's eyes. She was
in a state of high arousal, heightening his even more. Her
lips were redder than any lipstick could make them. Her breasts
rose and fell with her rapid breathing. Her eyes -- her eyes
were blue and black and so very deep. The look she gave him
as she lay against the pillows was arousing in the extreme.
"Take it easy on me, Scully," he moaned. "You're about to make
all my dreams come true, and I'm not sure my heart can take
it."
"Oh?" she said. "I thought you were making *my* dreams come
true."
He hooked his leg over hers and pressed closer. "I guess it's
okay if it happens for both of us," he conceded.
"That's big of you," she said.
He really couldn't help taking such an obvious opening. He
pushed his hips against hers, just a little. "Thanks for
noticing."
"Mul-der..."
"Okay, okay," he said. He leaned forward to kiss her, at the
same time rolling into position.
The time for talk was long past. He got down to the challenge
of making his partner moan. He kissed her long and hard,
plunging his tongue further into her mouth, grasping her breast
with one hand as he thrust his hips against hers.
He was surprised to realize that they were both still partly
clothed and set about remedying this. He'd done slow for as
long as he could stand it, and right now he'd rather spend time
on skin than clothes.
Scully seemed to feel the same way. They helped each other
with buttons and zippers but the goal was to get naked as
quickly as possible.
It was impossible, however, for him not to pause and look at
what he'd uncovered. His gaze was so intense that Scully flushed
and had to struggle not to look away. Not that she was
embarrassed, but his open appreciation of her was humbling.
She cast admiring eyes over him as he climbed back into bed.
Clothes made the man, but Mulder was the exception. As good as
he looked in clothes, he looked even better out of them. She
feasted her eyes on his well-muscled body. She took hold of his
cock and stroked it lovingly up and down, relishing the smooth
heat, and Mulder's reactions to her touch. He reached down
between her legs to cup her, allowing one finger to venture
between her folds. Her eyes grew darker still at his touch,
and she nodded slightly, parting her thighs and helping to guide
him where they both wanted him to be.
Her eyes closed as he began to enter her. All of her attention
concentrated where they were now joining. Her heartbeat, her
breathing, everything seemed to suspend for those few moments.
She felt a deep throbbing, and realized it must be him, his
pulse, quickening even as he slid inside her.
Her breath was already coming in short gasps as she took in this
new sensation, this welcome invasion into not just her body, but
her heart and mind. They'd been linked in so many ways for so
many years; this was simply the culmination.
Mulder's eyes were closed as well. The feeling of Scully's
body surrounding him was overwhelming. He felt the throb of
her body, as if her heart beat in time with his, as well it
might be. He felt Scully sigh against his face and he opened
his eyes to see her looking at him with wonder in her eyes.
They were even darker than before, two mirrors of the velvet,
starlit sky.
"You okay?" he managed to rasp out.
She nodded, biting her bottom lip until he covered her mouth
with his and she opened to him, twining him closer with her
arms and legs, moving her hips to encourage him to move.
Later, not even Mulder could remember all the details. It
was more a matter of sense memory. A sound or a touch would
trigger a moment: Scully's sighs caressing his cheek or his
ear, or the feeling of her fingernails raking lightly over
his shoulders. He'd smile to himself, adding it to his store
of fragments of Scully.
For Scully, it was a matter of remembered feelings. The pure,
all-encompassing joy she felt holding Mulder close to her as he
moved within her. The sensation of flying at the moment of
climax, as though her body had expanded to encompass the whole
universe, and then floating down, down, down, to find herself
in Mulder's arms, his eyes smiling into hers, his hand brushing
damp hair away from her face before he sank, exhausted, next
to her.
There were no dreams for either of them that night, good or bad.
x-x-x-x
The dawn came too early as it often did, though never so early as
when you've got your arms wrapped around your lover, Mulder
reflected. Scully was nestled against his side, her cheek
resting on his chest, her hair covering her face. It was a
shame to wake her. She felt so good next to him and he knew
as soon as she was awake it would be The Morning After.
He didn't fear regrets or recriminations, but they'd have to
figure out how to go from here. He knew how Scully's mind
worked, and she would probably insist on it.
He watched and listened as the weak sunshine edged its way
into the room. He could hear the soft tick tick tick of the
heater cooling down, rumbles of a pipe somewhere as another
guest started a shower. The faint drone of a TV, even fainter
sounds of traffic on the Interstate not far away. All signs
of normalcy, a rarity in their lives. He almost envied those
other people for a moment, going on about their business, not
worrying over conspiracies or colonization or shape-shifting
aliens.
But then, they didn't have Scully, either. He'd never trade
anything for her.
"Hey," he said softly to her, rubbing his hand up and down
her arm. She shifted slightly and burrowed her head under
his arm. That couldn't be all that pleasant for her, though
he kind of liked the feel of her warm breath tickling his
skin there.
"Scully." He tried again. "Up and at `em. The early bird
gets the worm. We're burnin' daylight."
She rolled over so she could look up at him. "Any more cliches
you'd care to throw at me?"
"I hate to be the one to say it, but we've gotta get moving,"
Mulder said. "Aren't we supposed to go back to DC?"
"I'm in no hurry," Scully said, rolling back toward him.
"I thought you couldn't wait to get out of North Dakota,"
he said.
"That was yesterday," she said with a demure smile, and though
it took a moment to sink in, it made Mulder smile very broadly.
He leaned over her and kissed her softly on the lips. "Maybe
this would be a good time to quit the FBI and become a spokesmodel
for the Ab-Roller," he suggested.
"That was spokesperson," she corrected him. "And only if you
act as my agent."
He grinned. "I thought I already *was* your agent," he said.
Scully laughed. What a wonderful sound! It made him want to
laugh too, so he did. The world stopped for them a moment as
they lay giggling in each other's arms.
"Very smooth, Mulder," Scully said when she'd regained some
composure. I bet you say that to all the girls."
"Nope, I've been saving it for you," he said, stretching his
arms out behind his head.
Scully scooted up to kiss his chin, then his lips. The kiss
went on for quite a while, and when she threw her leg over him
and started to move against him, he knew that resistance was
futile. He gripped her hips as she sat up and balanced herself
over him, and slid smoothly down over his cock. They began to
move in tandem, as the sun rose further and the brightness grew
in the room, painting patterns on their skin.
Silence reigned except for the sounds of breathing, the
occasional gasp or moan or sigh. Neither could speak or
even think coherently and both would be surprised to learn
that the other's thoughts were nearly the same, centering
around love and longing and regret and fear.
Love for the other. Longing for this never to end. Regret
that it was ending so soon. Fear that things would never be
the same, and that they *would* be the same.
But neither would speak these things aloud, afraid to break
the spell they'd woven between them.
They stared each into the other's eyes, wanting to memorize
this moment, this feeling, this wonder. All too soon, Scully
could feel herself beginning the final ascent and though she
tried to fight it, Mulder egged her on, doubling his own efforts
to thrust up into her, using his voice to make her lose control.
At last, Mulder sat up and pulled her legs to lock around him
and then he pulled her underneath him, feeling her shuddering
climax as he thrust and thrust again, filling her over and
over. Finally he collapsed, spent, and they lay quietly
together, facing the growing light.
x-x-x-x
Scully looked around one last time as Mulder checked them out.
She sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed her hand over the
rumpled bedspread. Only an hour before they'd been on that bed
together, entwined in the exhausted aftermath of lovemaking.
Neither of them had spoken about the future yet. She thought
Mulder was waiting for her to start, but she couldn't do it.
She wanted with all her heart to say something, but she wasn't
sure what.
Perhaps it would be like so much of their lives -- unspoken, but
there. They could continue in DC with what they'd started here,
and not have to discuss it. Somehow, she felt, discussing it
would ruin it. She just wanted to go on, pretend it was normal
between them, and let this happen.
She'd make sure of it. They both would. It would be understood.
They had an understanding. She liked the sound of that.
Mulder's faint shadow appeared in the open doorway. "You ready?"
he asked.
Scully nodded, getting up from the bed.
"Let's get this show on the road," Mulder said, waited for her
to come through the door. He opened the passenger door for her,
hand lightly on the small of her back, courteously closing the door
for her. He got in the driver's seat and pulled the car out onto
the road.
"We've managed to avoid the worst of the storms so far," he
remarked. "I hope our luck holds."
The horizon stretched before them. To one side, they could see
the dark clouds gathering in the distance, though the direction
their road was going was, for the moment, clear.
They drove along in silence for a while.
"Things will be different when we get back home," Scully
remarked tentatively. She wasn't sure what to say that she
hadn't already said. She wasn't even sure what she wanted
Mulder to say that he hadn't already said. She was just afraid
to sink entirely into silence as they had so many times before.
He put his hand over hers. "We'll figure it out. Maybe Kersh
has had a change of heart and we're getting the X-Files back."
"Yeah Mulder, and maybe pigs can fly," she said, but she smiled
as she said it. She really didn't think they'd get the X-Files
back that easily, but at least they had each other.
Maybe, just maybe, things would go their way for once.
x-x-x-x
October, 1999
Scully's footsteps sounded unnaturally loud in the hallway. She
was aware of each separate sound, first rapid but slowing
dramatically as she neared the door marked 42.
She remembered having the same hyper-awareness more than a
half-dozen years ago as she approached the basement office
for the first time. Her heels had clacked on the worn linoleum
and slowed from purposeful to tentative as she got deeper into
the basement and found Mulder's door. She'd hesitated slightly
before knocking. Did she really want to do this? There seemed
to be more to the assignment than she'd originally thought.
But Dana Scully had never shirked her duty. She hadn't then,
and she wouldn't now.
So much had happened since that night in North Dakota, nearly
a year before. She'd thought at first that though they'd lost
the X-Files, they'd gained each other. But it hadn't been so.
Her instincts had been right in one way: others had conspired
to separate them and for a time, it seemed they would succeed.
There had been times when she'd regretted what they'd done in
North Dakota. The memory of that night was a burden and a
blessing.
Being on the road was always a little different than being home,
and not just for the obvious reasons. They'd probably forged
their friendship more firmly on these trips than any other time.
They spent their evenings together on the road more than at
home. Often, it was to discuss the current case and to work
on their reports together, a system they'd refined over the
years.
This assignment hadn't required much in the way of investigation
or paperwork. They went to the property, filled out the required
forms, and logged them into the computer. Most evenings the
whole thing had taken half an hour, tops.
She knew that she'd made the choice to make love with Mulder not
out of boredom, but because she'd wanted it for a long time.
She'd been sure that Mulder felt the same way. She'd been surer
of his feelings than her own.
But even with these convictions, being back in DC had made an
immediate difference. Skinner had been attacked and almost died.
Then Kersh sent her on assignment without Mulder and she'd almost
died. Mulder had been very attentive while she'd been in the
hospital, but went off on his own while she recuperated at her
mother's. She wasn't entirely sure what he'd been working on,
but suspected it had something to do with his former partner.
She'd thought that physical intimacy would change things between
them and it had, but not the way either of them had intended.
Mulder was just as stubborn, just as insistent upon his own
theories and ways of doing things. When she'd tried to approach
things logically, he'd rejected her arguments out of hand with
the accusation, "You're making this personal."
His words had stunned her and she'd retorted, "Without the
X-Files, personal interest is all I have." Things had gone
downhill from there. He'd walked away first, but maybe he
thought she'd follow him. For the first time in their
partnership, she hadn't.
She didn't even want to recall that time now. She'd gone on
with her work but her heart truly wasn't in it.
Even after regaining the X-Files, it had taken a while to
re-establish the trust they'd had in each other. Their strength
had always been in unity, and only by being separated had they
truly realized it. And still there had been obstacles to
overcome.
Just when she thought they were back on track, Mulder fell
desperately ill. Her whole world, already teetering, had
turned on its head and still hadn't righted itself. Mulder's
crisis seemed past. She wasn't as certain about her own.
She still wasn't sure they were back on solid ground. It was
important that she showed she was willing for it to be so. Her
visit today was more than a social call, more than checking on
her partner's welfare. She had news to impart, and she needed
to do it in person.
She took a breath and knocked on the door, hearing another echo
from the past: <"Sorry, nobody down here but the FBI's most
unwanted.">
On the other side of the door, Mulder stood with his tie in
his hand. He'd intended to surprise her by showing up at the
office. He had news to tell her, and he needed to tell her
in person.
When he heard the knock on the door, he knew instantly that
it was Scully. Funny she should show up as he was thinking
of her. He wondered who the mind reader was now.
His door swung open and there he was, the same Mulder but
different. His eyes lit up when he saw her. He was coming
back from the terrible things done to him, but there was a
tiredness around his eyes that seemed a permanent part of him
now.
She had no doubt that her face showed the same changes as
Mulder's.
She'd changed in other ways, too. Had Mulder changed in ways
that she couldn't see? Had they both changed so much that
they'd never regain their partnership, let alone anything more?
She couldn't face that. Everything else had been taken away
from her. She couldn't lose that hope.
Mulder's news was another blow. She listened to his account
of Albert Hosteen's death. He was trying to tell her that she'd
never seen him, that they couldn't have prayed together.
If that weren't true, then maybe she was wrong about everything.
Despite her determination to be strong for Mulder, she began to
cry.
It broke Mulder's heart to see Scully in such distress. She'd
been strong for him for so long. Hearing her thoughts had been
his one solace when he'd been ill, and he missed them now. But
he could see in her eyes what he needed to know. It warmed him
to realize that she was still his Scully, despite everything that
had happened.
Mulder then listened as Scully haltingly told him her own news
about Diana Fowley, and her acknowledgment of Diana's part in
his rescue. He knew the truth, however. Scully had saved him,
and now she needed saving herself. He listened as she confessed
her confusion and doubt.
"I'm sorry," she said with tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry.
I know she was your friend."
She hadn't wanted to break down, he could tell, she hadn't
wanted to tell him her doubts and fears. He felt honored that
she had.
He wanted nothing more than to wrap himself around her as he had
in North Dakota, to take the chill off her heart and soul. He
needed her to know how her faith had kept him alive. Somehow,
he found the words:
"...there was one thing that remained the same. You were my
friend, and you told me the truth." He took her face in his
hands. "You were my touchstone, my constant."
"And you were mine," she returned. His words were balm to her
soul. She wanted to hug him again but he seemed so fragile
still. She dared only to kiss his forehead, but she stroked
his cheeks and smoothed her thumbs over his beloved lips,
reminding him. She'd carried the little tin in her pocket
for a long time, long after it had been used up.
He closed his eyes and his smile told her he remembered.
"They didn't take everything away from me," he whispered.
"I still have you."
"Always," she whispered back. "Always."
She turned to walk away.
He couldn't let her leave like that. They'd left each other
too many times lately.
"Scully," she heard him say softly.
She turned back to find that he'd followed her down the hall.
He was only a few steps away from her. She took one tentative
step back to him, then another.
He held his hand out to her. It was a small gesture, but it
was enough. One more step and she was close enough to take
it.
His grip was warm and strong, and his embrace warmer. She felt
her world begin to right itself, and instead of walking away
this time, she stayed.
end.
Author's notes: this was a challenge fic, proposed by sallie.
She gave me a choice of taking seven of the ten proposed elements.
I used nine of them:
1. First-time sex
2. A bet, or wager of some kind
3. Returning home to the DC area (via plane, train, or car)
4. A confession
5. A movie (two references!)
6. A meal, consumed or missed
7. A key, real or figurative
8. A quote (can be from a person, a literary classic, a movie,
a song, etc.). I chose Thornton Wilder, the "ice cream" quote
that Mulder tells Scully
9. Scully's shy smile (though not identified as "shy," it
appears a time or two)
10. Stubble (morning and evening!)
I'm sure you can figure out which one I didn't use. I try to
be subtle with my references, but this one's so subtle it's
non-existent.
Anyway, many thanks to sallie for her challenge elements!
Lashings of gratitude to carol as well, for judicious
application of the cattle prod, and eagle-eye beta.
If you're interested:
The charming and talented Kimpa houses many of my stories here:
http://www.kimpart.com/mlfic.html
and the lovely new site courtesy of equally charming and
fabulously talented Circe Invdiosa:
http://www.invidiosa.com/ml/index.html
and of course, feedback is always appreciated: msnsc21@aol.com
Thanks for reading!