Title: One Week Author: Cynthia Douglas E-Mail: cynthiadouglas@worldnet.att.net Rating: NC-17 Category: SAR MSR Spoilers: Small ones for Pilot, Max, The Pine Bluff Variant, Summary: Be careful what you wish for... Mulder deals with the complications of his new relationship with Scully. Continuation of the events of Third Night. You gotta read that one to understand this one. Set after All Souls but before The Pine Bluff Variant. DISCLAIMER: Mulder and Scully are the property of CC, 1013, and FOX. I mean no infringement, and will play nice if they will. FEEDBACK (polished weekly!): cynthiadouglas@worldnet.att.net ================================== Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song, A medley of extemporanea; And love is a thing that can never go wrong; And I am Marie of Roumania Dorothy Parker ================================== I can't say exactly why I didn't believe Scully when she said this wouldn't be easy. I guess that after the specific circle of Hell we trudged around in the Sunday night we finally came together--she reluctantly and I reverently--I just thought that everything else would be simple. Now, with one week between the emotional carnival ride of that night and the realities of our "real life," I have to laugh at my good-intentioned, whole-hearted, head-in-the sand optimism. We talked, we argued, we admitted how we felt, we had sex. Things can only get better, right? Though it wasn't perhaps entirely evident from my brief but horrific turn for the brutal on her couch during our debate over the future of our relationship, I really did plan ahead that night. I'd been planning all weekend. I came to Scully with no less than three tactics for convincing her that being together was the right thing for both of us. I wheedled, I seduced, I pleaded. And when none of those strategies panned out for me, I cracked. I hate myself for the look of fear and betrayal I saw on her face when she pushed me off her on that couch. Scully seems to have forgiven me, but I haven't. Imagine the amazement I felt at waking up early Monday morning and remembering that not only had she forgiven me, but she'd capitulated and even taken me into her bed. I woke up well before she did, startled at first to find her tiny, naked body folded softly within my arms. Her legs were bent up and draped over my own, her bottom pressed warmly into my lap. I could feel the soft heat and pressure of her skin against the erection I was suddenly aware of and briefly considered waking her up and making love to her again, or waking her up *by* making love to her again, hopefully with better results this time. But I wanted to watch her dream, to take the time to memorize the smooth, unlined planes of her sleeping face, to drink in the musky scent of us, the silky feeling of the skin on her stomach, where my hand rested. I basked in all of these sensations as the sky lightened, and I thought about the previous night. I wondered what stars must have been aligned *just so* to allow this to have worked for me, despite my predilection for fucking up a good thing. I'd come within inches, I knew, of losing everything. I swear I didn't plan to maul Scully like a frustrated frat boy. But I have to admit to having made provisions for a successful union. I'd exchanged the wrinkled suit that had been riding around in the trunk of my car for a fresh one and folded clean socks and underwear into the jacket. When Scully started to show signs of waking up, I slipped quietly out of bed and pulled on my jeans and sweater. Barefoot, I scurried out to my car, grabbed my garment bag, scurried back into Scully's apartment, and ducked into the bathroom for a quick shower. I'm not sure why, but I wanted to let Scully's day begin as close to normally as was possible. I guess it was along the same lines as not fucking her awake. She's a delicate creature, my Scully. I didn't want to scare her again. Which is why, when Scully stumbled naked into her bathroom, she ran right into me--showered, suited up, tie thrown over my shoulder to keep the toothpaste from spoiling the silk--scrubbing vigorously at my teeth. Scully jumped when she saw me and snatched hastily at the bathrobe hanging from a hook on the door. She didn't manage to cover her full-body blush before I noticed it. "Morning, Scully," I said around the toothbrush. So much for not scaring her again. There was an awkward pause. For a few sickening moments, I thought she'd forgotten--or blocked out--the night before. Not that there weren't some moments best forgotten. The evening had *ended* pretty nicely, anyway. I rinsed my mouth and spit hastily, then ran the water over the toothbrush before tossing it back in the cup where I'd found it. Scully's eyes tracked my movements. "That's my toothbrush." I glanced at the peach-colored cup, where the toothbrush was still wobbling back and forth. "Did I put it in the wrong place?" Scully stared at me, a look of disbelief settling over her features. "Mulder, you used my toothbrush. That's disgusting." "Uhhhmm... I..." Somehow, thankfully, my brain was working well enough to realize that pointing out how many bodily fluids--and not just saliva--we'd swapped the night before was probably not my best move. As I chewed my lip and considered the proper response, Scully looked me over more carefully. "Where'd you get the clothes? You were wearing jeans." I walked right into that one. "My car. I brought them with me last night, in case--" "In case you scored?" Scully's voice was sharp as she cut me off. "No!" I started backpedalling, and then I realized that that had pretty much been my reasoning. "I mean, maybe, but not the way you make it sound. I almost always have an extra suit in my car." "Oh, that makes me feel so much better!" Scully raised her voice a notch and seemed to puff up a little, taking up more space than she had three minutes before. "What'd you want me to do? I wasn't exactly dressed for the office." "What were you dressed for, then, exactly?" "Look," I said, trying to move from the defensive position. "I was going to go home last night, Scully. You're the one who asked me to stay. You're the one who started that." I jerked my head in the general direction of the bedroom. Scully's face flushed a deep red, and I noticed the hickeys on her neck. They turned a muted purple as the blood rose under her pale skin. "I started this?" I knew by the edge on her voice that I was in trouble. "Me? Who showed up at whose door? This was not my idea, Mulder. Things were just fine before your big announcement." I slapped a hand down on the countertop in frustration. "Why are we having this argument again, Scully? I thought we worked this out last night. I thought you wanted this. I thought we were going to give this a shot." I tried to keep the budding panic out of my voice. She looked away from me, studying her toenail polish, which appeared to be fascinating. I blew a sharp breath out my nose, just short of a snort. I could feel my mouth tightening. "Look, I'm sorry I used your toothbrush. Can we just go back to 'Good morning' and try this again?" Scully looked up at me again, scanning my face for signs of duplicity. She must not have found any right then, because she heaved a sigh and pushed her fingers into her hair on either side of her face, massaging her head briefly. She closed her eyes for a moment. "Okay. You're right." She opened her eyes again. "What time is it?" I glanced at my watch. "Six thirty-five." "Okay," she repeated. "Why don't you go grab some coffee and bagels at the shop on the corner. I have to take a shower--wake up some more." I started toward the door, trying to step around her without touching her. I wasn't altogether sure she wouldn't bite. Scully pressed up against the wall to let me by, and I was surprised to feel her hand catch my wrist as I slunk by. "Mulder." I turned back toward her, and her hand slid from my wrist to my hand and tugged on it gently, twice. "I'm sorry. This is still a little weird to me." She pulled my hand again and put her other one lightly on my shoulder. Stretching up onto her toes, she planted a quick kiss on the very corner of my mouth. "Good morning." ====================== By the time I got back, bearing our breakfast and caffeine, Scully was busy with her hair dryer. I occupied myself in the kitchen, pouring the coffee into real mugs and putting our bagels on the matching plates, hoping to make up for defiling Scully's toothbrush. I leaned out the kitchen door when I heard the hair dryer stop. She emerged, hair curving smoothly around her face like a bird's wings, met my eyes briefly across the length of the living room, then ducked into her bedroom. The voyeur in me was pulling me toward her room. I wanted to watch her dress, to learn her habits. I wanted to know everything. Does she put her bra on first, or her panties? Does she even bother with underwear if she's wearing pantyhose? Does she stand half naked in front of her closet and decide what to wear, or has she picked her clothes out the night before? But, having learned the hard way that Scully is not a morning person, I resisted and set the table instead, substituting the sordid details of Scully's cutlery for observations of her undergarments. Just as I was aligning the butter knives with the coffee spoons, she appeared in the doorway wearing that suit I love so much. It's some shi-shi shade of blue--I want to say "turtle blue," but that can't be right--almost purple, but still blue. Even with the no-nonsense cut of the jacket, the high-necked blouse, and the just-below-the-knee skirt, that suit screams out sensuous beauty. The blue somehow makes every color in Scully just *more*. Eyes bluer, skin creamier, hair flamier. "What?" Scully asked, and I realized I'd been staring. "You look incredible in that suit." Scully smiled her near-smile with her suit-enhanced lips. "Mulder, I've had this suit for almost three years." I nodded, feeling a grin stretch across my face. "Mmmm, I know." Scully colored just a tad and sat down at the table, pulling her chair in. "Thanks for breakfast," she said, sounding exactly as if I'd picked the food up on our way to the airport instead of having spent the night in her bed. All signs of her blush--and her hickeys--were gone, and I felt the familiar, cool, all-business aura radiate across the table at me. I wanted to touch her again to take the sudden chill off, to make sure I hadn't been brainwashed into thinking we'd agreed to become lovers, that we'd actually made love last night. I needed a sign from her. "Will you pass me the milk, Mulder?" I slid the carton across the table to her and watched carefully as she added a dollop to her coffee and stirred it absentmindedly. I waited for her to say something--anything. She didn't. I held on through her bagel and most of her coffee before I broke. The sounds of our nibbling and sipping were ricocheting around the kitchen; each noise that wasn't her talking to me was an assault. "Um, Scully? About last night..." Oh, God. Did that actually come out of my mouth? She eyed me over the rim of her mug as she drained the last of the coffee from it. "What about it?" she asked casually, setting the cup down neatly on top of her empty plate. I've heard her dictate autopsy notes in the same tone of voice. Funny, I'd always found her ability to dissect and eat at the same time to be an endearing quality, but it was a lot less amusing when I was the one under her knife. "Well, I was wondering, you know, are you okay with it? No second thoughts?" "About which part, specifically?" Oh, boy. If she more than two to choose from, I was in trouble. "Well... uh... you know. The end result. Us. Together." She nodded, unblinking. "Emotionally, or sexually?" My stomach lurched around my breakfast. "Either. Both." She looked at me squarely and spoke with just enough of a hint of warmth to keep me from panicking when I heard her answer. "I'm on my third or fourth set of second thoughts on the whole thing, Mulder. Come on, we're going to be late for work. We can talk about this later." Scully got up, clearing the dishes into the sink, and then headed out to the living room. ================================== I almost suggested we drive to work together, but Scully--in full This Is All Quite Normal mode--headed unhesitatingly for her own car, hardly even pausing to lay a hand on my sleeve. "See you in the basement, Mulder." I stood dumbly on the sidewalk, watching her swing neatly into her car. The clack of her door slamming jarred me back into what was passing for reality that morning. I crossed the street to my own car and flopped into the driver's seat with considerably less confidence than Scully had done half a minute before. I considered the possibilities as I pulled into traffic. As far as I could figure, there were three options. One: Scully was overwhelmed by the emotional power and consequences of this turn in our relationship, and was hiding behind her cool facade while she sorted through things. Two: Scully was underwhelmed by the sexual demonstration of my affection, and was hiding behind her cool facade while she figured out how to dump me on my ass without having to request transfers for one or both of us. Three: Scully was currently outlining her Request For Transfer letter to Skinner, with a point-by-point description of my various misdeeds, starting with my unsolicited declaration of love Friday afternoon and ending with my failure to bring her to orgasm last night. Oh, and don't forget that I used her toothbrush. By the time I reached the parking lot of the Hoover Building, I was pretty well convinced of option number three. I'd lost Scully almost immediately upon leaving her street--she'd sped through an aging yellow light while I was mourning the passing of my brief but pleasurable return to sex with an actual human being. As I trudged toward the elevators, I debated sparing Scully the trouble and confessing my misdeeds to Skinner myself. I stood in front of the elevators contemplating the confusing choice of buttons. Up or down? "Birds eat your trail of breadcrumbs, Agent Mulder?" Skinner's deep voice echoed through the concrete structure, though he hadn't spoken loudly. I felt my face heat up. Could he read my mind? Smell her on me? I'd showered, so I didn't think he'd be able to pick up the scent. The mind reading was a whole 'nother question, though. I realized he was waiting for a response from me. "Huh?" was the most intelligent thing that came to mind. When in doubt, stall. Skinner squinted at me from behind his wire rims, then took a sideways step and, stretching across in front of me, he deliberately pushed the Down button. "Oh..." I cleared my throat. "Thanks." After several decades of awkward silence, during which I'm sure Skinner was deciding whether to inform me of my dismissal there or wait until he could get me into his office, where my inevitable messy protest would be less of a public scene, he looked sideways at me and spoke. "Nice weekend?" The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. "Uh... I think I'll take the stairs," I said. I caught a glimpse of Skinner's blank look as I bolted around the corner. I have got to dig up that regulations manual, I thought as I galloped down the stairs. I dawdled a bit at the bottom of the stairwell, waiting until I was sure I wouldn't run into Skinner on his way out of my abandoned elevator, then stalled some more in the cafeteria, where I stopped to get a second cup of coffee, delaying the inevitable. Putting it off a little farther, I hit the men's room. I contemplated my plight as I washed my hands. Facts were facts. I was eventually going to have to go to the office--our office--and face Scully again. Today was not just going to carry on without me. So I shook the water off my hands and patted them dry on my butt, and I headed to my fate. I pushed through my office door without pause and found my fate leafing through the file I'd shown her on Friday-- pre-announcement of undying love. "Get lost?" she asked, a smile in her voice. Scully flipped the file closed and looked up at me. I stepped fully into the office and shut the door behind me. We surveyed each other. "In a manner of speaking," I replied after a few seconds. I crossed over to my desk and sat down facing Scully. Our eyes met again, and I saw in hers the tenderness I'd been looking for earlier that morning. She put a finger across her curving lips, then moved her hand up across her cheek and tapped her ear tellingly. Our old lines of communication were up and working again, and in that moment, I understood that she'd just laid our first ground rule. Work is work. Us is us. And never the twain shall meet. I guess we'd fueled enough water-cooler gossip already. No real need to substantiate it. I nodded slightly to show her I'd gotten the message. "You need to see the slides that go with that file again, Scully?" I was rewarded for my first correct move of the morning with a brilliant smile from Scully--her teeth even showed for a second or two. "That's okay, Mulder," she replied, sliding the file across the desk at me. As I reached to pick it up, Scully caught my hand and squeezed it ever so briefly. "I think I remember the details." ================================== The rest of that first day was surprisingly easy. It wasn't hard to fall back into the rhythms and habits we'd established years before--much easier than starting to find new ones had been. In fact, once I let myself believe that Scully wasn't going to sue or shoot me, I started feeling pretty good. While Scully reviewed some left-over autopsy data, I managed to dig up my copy of the Bureau's employee handbook, which had been serving valiantly as a shim under a short-legged table tucked way back in the corner of our little alcove, and spent the morning surreptitiously hunting through it for passages that pertained to our current situation. That soothed my nerves a bit. While we probably wanted to refrain from singing our union through the halls, we also probably wouldn't get fired for sleeping together. There were a couple of iffy parts--like the fact that I was technically the senior agent assigned to our department and therefore it could be argued (and had been once, I remembered to my chagrin) that I was her superior, which was a no-no. But we could put up a good defense, anyhow. Still, the risk of transfer was there, so Scully's rule about no nookie on Bureau time was a sound one. To be fair to me, though, I might have to make rule number two be "No turtle-blue suits on Bureau time." They make it hard for me to concentrate. We spent our afternoons apart, Scully heading up to follow up on something with her techies in the Sci Lab. Since Pendrell'd been killed, she didn't talk about any of them by name. I don't know whether that was because they kept their distance these days, having seen the dangers of even peripheral involvement with the X-Files, or whether Scully was the one playing it cool. My money was with Scully, though--she's awfully good at avoiding attachments. I didn't have to work too hard at keeping my mind mostly off of her. There was plenty of filing to do, as well as cross-checking new incident reports that had been sent my way against existing files. We weren't actively working on a case right now, but I had some leads I wanted to follow up--Friday's slides of the levitating livestock deserved a little digging. And, if that didn't pan out, there was the usual endless trail of disappearing evidence to try (in vain, I knew, but I had to keep trying) to track down. It was past five when the sudden jangle of the phone startled me out of my concentration. I snatched the receiver up before it could ring again and hastily spit a sunflower seed shell out, missing the pile on my blotter. "Mulder," I announced and ran my tongue over the salt-sore dent in my lower lip. The tip of my tongue felt pickled as well. "Mulder, it's me." I sat up a bit straighter and brushed more shells off my shirt. "Where are you, Scully?" "At home. I had to run to my dry cleaners. I found a ticket for a suit I'd forgotten about, and they give stuff away if it's been there for more than a month, which it would have been at six." I waited for her to get to the point, because I was pretty sure her laundry wasn't the main reason she'd called. "Any luck with the anti-gravity farm?" she asked after a beat. "Well, I'm still working some leads, but it's a tough one. We're going to want to keep it under wraps--could be pretty dangerous if these pictures get out." Scully bit. "Mulder, I know you've probably got a file an inch thick on secret experiments with anti-gravity devices, or alien tests on zero-g tolerance, but I think what we're looking at is nothing more than a sophisticated hoax. Those pictures are clearly doctored. You don't just turn off gravity in the middle of Indiana." "Oh, no, Scully," I cut in as she ran out of steam. "The danger is real. I told Frohike you'd go out with him when pigs fly, so..." "If that's the case, Mulder, then I guess you should tell Skinner to sign us up for this year's teamwork conference." "Damn, you're right. That settles it, then. We'd better head out there and get to the bottom of it." There was a warm pause as Scully chuckled so softly that it almost didn't make it across the phone lines, but I heard it and smiled. "Listen, Mulder," she said after a breath, "I'd love the opportunity to blast your theory on this one out of the water. I grabbed some food on my way home. Why don't you stop by, and we can go over those slides again. I'll show you what I learned in that Photoshop seminar last month. Amazing what you can do with the right software." "Scully," I scoffed, "This isn't about pasting your boss' head onto Pamela Anderson's body..." "Interesting image, Mulder. Seven o'clock. We'll talk more about your Skinner-as-a-woman fantasies." Scully hung up before I could get the last word in, and I grinned at no one in particular. I made a half-hearted attempt at straightening my desk, which at least included pushing the pile of shells off the corner and into the garbage can. Then I quickly shut down my computer and misfiled the more sensitive documents I'd pulled out during the day. It drives Scully nuts, but I figure anything I can do to make it more difficult for Them to snoop through our stuff is worth the effort. I don't have any delusions about the quality of the locks around here. Files carefully stowed, I put on my jacket and headed out to my car. I made record time to my apartment, where I sat quietly for a few minutes, trying to plan for all contingencies. I didn't want to piss Scully off by bringing along a change of clothes again, but I also didn't want to end up with nothing clean to wear tomorrow, assuming Scully's invite was for a sleepover. I decided to hedge my bets and simply make a subtle change from my gray pinstripe suit to my gray solid one. I threw on an identical blue shirt and a different, but similarly patterned, tie and stowed a fresh pair of boxers in the inside pocket of my coat. It wasn't until I was most of the way to Scully's apartment that I realized I'd forgotten my toothbrush again. And my razor. Scully hadn't asked, but I had a feeling the day would've gone very differently for me if she'd known I'd used her razor as well as her toothbrush. I had been inordinately careful shaving with her little Lady Gillette--the grip was the wrong shape for doing faces. To avoid further unpleasantness, I stopped at a drug store and picked up the basic toiletries and something to hold them in, which was, to my dismay, available only in hot pink or leopard skin. I indulged in one impulse buy on my way out and was at Scully's at 6:55. I stood outside her door for a few seconds trying to clear my mind of all the details I'd been obsessing over. This wasn't going to be that weird. It's dinner, I thought. People have dinner all the time. We'll talk. People talk all the time. Easy like pie. Calmed, I knocked twice on her door. Scully opened the door quickly and said, "Look, there was nothing wrong yesterday. I was just a little tired." "Scully, I..." I started, caught off guard. She frowned, waved me in, and turned her back on me before I got all the way through the door, and I finally noticed the phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder. "No, I feel better today," she continued. "I got a lot of sleep last night." Liar, I thought, smirking just a little. "Mom, I have to go. Mulder's here." She padded in stocking feet toward the kitchen and her voice grew a little fainter. "Yes, Mom, we do work while we're at work... We just have some stuff we have to go over... Stuff, Mom. Work stuff... Because we were doing other things during work... No... I don't care what Bill says... Mom, I have to go... Whoops!" I turned my head toward the sound of her little yelp. "The water's boiling over, Mom. Gotta go. Love you." I heard the phone beep as Scully disconnected it, and I stuck my head into the kitchen. "Need help with the water, Scully?" She sighed and put the phone down on the table, then shrugged the jacket of her suit off. "There's no water," she said, draping the jacket carelessly over a chair. "I got Thai take out. I just had to get her off the phone. She's got some sort of sixth sense, I swear." I wanted to ask what the mother of the Psychic Scully Sisters was sensing and why Scully was trying so hard put her off, but that question was too full of boobie traps for my comfort. Instead, I stepped the rest of the way into the room and watched with pleasure as Scully's jaw dropped. "Something wrong, Scully?" She took a step toward me, then stopped, mouth still open and ever so slightly fishlike. "Mulder, you brought me flowers?" The eyebrows that could pin me to the wall like a bug to be studied--and make me like it--were satisfyingly still over her wide eyes. "Surprised?" I asked, pleased by my impulse purchase. I held the bouquet out to her, and Scully took it from me, examining it with an air of disbelief. "Yes," she admitted. "I am surprised. They're beautiful, Mulder. I just never figured you as the flower-bringing type. It's sort of..." "Spooky?" Scully looked up from the blue and purple blossoms in her hands and met my eyes. She'd apparently recovered feeling to her left eyebrow, because it was creeping up into its usual wry arc. "No," she said emphatically, cutting my self-mockery short. "It's sweet. You're sweet. Thank you." Scully turned away from me and started rummaging through a cupboard, stretching up onto her toes to reach a vase on the middle shelf. "Here," I said, stepping behind her and reaching over her shoulder. "Let me get that." I leaned further in to get a more secure hold on the vase just as she moved from her toes back to the flats of her feet, and I was jarred by the sudden jolt of arousal that slammed through me as the front of my body ran soundly into the back of hers. I managed to set the vase down on the counter before I wrapped my arms around Scully, pulling her body into more solid contact with mine. There was a rustle of plastic and petals as Scully put the bouquet down and twisted around in my arms. Scully's eyes were fevered and shining, and in that long moment before she closed them, they sent another charge of heat zinging around my body, settling in the general vicinity of my zipper. Her hands lodged themselves in my hair, and she pulled downward. I tightened my grip around her ribs and stooped enough to get at her mouth. Even as her lips moved over my mouth and her tongue darted over mine, I felt this sort of numb disbelief that fogged my brain. How did I get here, again? The numbness didn't last. Scully was moving against me in a way that did not encourage higher brain function. But the autonomic responses were working just fine, though, and I knew Scully must have felt that, too. She slid her arms down to my sides and wrapped them around my waist, pulling my hips more firmly against her stomach. When she broke the kiss off, we were both breathing heavily. She leaned into my chest, and her hands slipped lower, grazing over my butt. I was getting hard so fast it almost hurt, and I shifted against her to try to arrange myself more comfortably in my pants. Scully felt me move and pulled me even closer, her hands still hot on my ass. "Jesus, Scully," I whispered hoarsely into her hair. Scully untucked her head from under my chin and kissed me again, then slithered out from between me and the counter. "Come on, Mulder. The bedroom's better for this." "But the food..." I said, and my voice only cracked a little. "We'll microwave it later. Come on." Who was I to argue with Scully in heat? No one, that's who. I followed her to her bedroom, where she moved hungrily back to me, pulling impatiently at my clothing. "God, I've been thinking about this all day," she mumbled into my arm. My eyes widened at her words and the husky voice in which she'd delivered them. "Don't look so shocked," she said, looking up at me and raising that eyebrow again. "You're not the only one with... appetites... you know. I'm just more subtle about them." Unfazed, and having relieved me of my tie, she started in on my shirt. I recovered enough to start fumbling at Scully's clothes, but there were so many distractions. My brain was still kicking around the idea of Scully having appetites, and, back in one corner, it was mulling over what proportions those appetites would grow to if I | didn't manage to get her off this time. Scully had conquered the buttons on my shirt and was nipping at me like a hungry cat. My skin was so sensitized that her tongue felt rough when she licked me. As we sank down onto the bed, I was aware of a heavy, heady scent wafting up from the bedcovers, which I was fairly certain was left over from last night. The combination of the musky smell and Scully's hot mouth on my chest was dizzying. I wound my arms around her tiny frame, stilling her as much as I could without pinning her down, and pressed my lips into the smooth softness of her hair, afraid that if we didn't slow this down just a little, I was going to go off with my pants still on, which was just not an option. She twitched against me, but calmed enough for me to get my bearings. "Sorry," I said when I could breathe normally again. "My head was spinning." Scully was only slightly deterred by my brief time out. Her little hands skittered up my torso, pushing my shirt off my shoulders and down my arms, her nails catching my skin in a way that made me shiver. After a brief, clumsy battle with the buttons on my cuffs, Scully tossed the offending garment to the floor and scooted up the bed, lifting a leg over my body and kneeling over me with her hands on either side of my head. Her hair hung forward, grazing her jaw. I reached my hands to her face and pushed the dangling locks behind her ears, then flattened my palms against the softly round planes of her cheeks. Pulling gently, I drew her down to me and we kissed again, more slowly this time. With Scully lying flat on top of me, I was acutely aware of my arousal. Scully was moving against me as our mouths explored each other, and every push of her softness against my complimentary hardness sent a quake through me, as well as adding to the steady ache of pleasure in my groin. Scully seemed to sense my discomfort and moved to my side again, her sharp teeth hooking on my lower lip when she slid her hips off mine. Her hands were moving down my waist, lighting on my belt buckle. As she worked at my pants, I was overcome by the need to feel her skin--smooth and satiny, I remembered viscerally-- against mine, and I pulled desperately at her blouse, disengaging her hands momentarily as I tugged her top over her head. With movements that sacrificed finesse for speed, I pushed the straps of her simple white bra off her shoulders and reached around to fumble at the back for its hooks. "Opens in front," Scully hinted, her voice trembling, which made me feel better. At least I wasn't the only one being affected here. I grunted my acknowledgment and slipped my hands around to her stomach, then up to cup her breasts, squeezing gently before I moved to open the plastic latch at her sternum. I pushed the fabric aside. My thumbs skipped over her nipples, and she groaned. We pulled together at the same time, and I sighed at the contact. Her breasts spread against my chest, their hard points jutting out despite the resistance my skin offered. Needing more, I rolled us over so Scully was on her back, then | hunched up onto my knees above her. I straightened up enough to finish the work she'd started on my fly and pushed my pants hastily off of me, kicking inelegantly as they tangled at my knees and ankles. Almost desperately, I lowered my body onto hers, but her skirt and my boxers kept the fiery contact of our chests from fulfilling my craving. I wanted to wrap myself in Scully's skin. With a near-animal groan, I rolled to the side again and tugged feverishly at Scully's waistband. She seemed to be as impatient as I, and she pushed my hands away, getting the job done more efficiently on her own. I watched briefly as she shoved her skirt, pantyhose, and underwear (yes, the miniscule part of my brain that remained rational noted, she does wear underwear with pantyhose) down her legs in one motion. As she toed the lump of clothes off her feet and onto the floor, I wriggled out of my own underwear. We moved together, arms grasping, groping for fingerholds like mountain climbers with no safety lines. Scully pulled on my right shoulder, and we rolled to the left, finally satisfying my need for full-body skin contact when Scully ended up splayed across me, thighs trapping my swollen penis between us. Her breasts, soft and hard at the same time, nudged my throat as she shifted against me, and I craned my neck to taste them. Her skin was velvety soft under my lips, and I pressed my face between the firm, silken swells for several heavenly seconds before I felt a small hand urge me toward a turgid peak. I latched on, kneading like a kitten, rolling her pebbly nipple between my lips and tongue, and sighed warmly against her. Her hands were still pressing on my head. I took the cue and bit gently, alternately stroking my tongue over the hardened tip and sucking it firmly between nibbles. Scully cried out her approval. Eager to please, I switched to the other side, letting my hands slide down her silky back to cup her bottom and reveling in all the dips and curves that were packed into such a small body. As I squeezed the soft hills of her ass, Scully lifted her hips and slipped a hand between us, grasping me at the base of my cock. I groaned into the center of her breast and had to release it altogether when she started moving her hand firmly up and down on me. I felt her weight shift and tore my gaze away from her swaying breasts as she sat up, straddling me, hands laced around my erection. Her lips were dark and puffy--I wondered if she'd been biting them--and her eyes were shining. "God, Scully," I breathed, feeling her quick tugs all the way to the soles of my feet. "God, I want to touch you everywhere. I want to eat you up. You're so beautiful." My voice sounded funny to me, and I wasn't sure who was writing my dialog, but at that point, I didn't much care if I sounded like a bad romance novel. Scully leaned back at a steeper angle, and I felt a sudden, warm wetness against my thigh. I stroked a hand down her to the place where our bodies met and moved in on the source of the damp heat, Scully rising slightly to grant me access. I slid my hand through the moist hair, then over her slick flesh, feeling her tense above me. It took me a second to get my bearings among her slippery folds, but her sharp cry told me I'd found her clitoris, and then I had no trouble at all. I slipped my middle finger inside her, busied my other hand with massaging the swollen peak, and pushed against her. Scully strained back for a moment, then moaned and slapped my hand away, moving slightly up on my body. I anticipated her, and asked for what I thought she wanted. "I want to taste you, Scully. Let me taste you," I said, pulling at her hips with slippery fingers. She lurched forward and I found my face pressed into the flesh of her stomach. I nudged her up a little higher and then pulled down on her hips to bring her within reach. I closed my lips over her clitoris, and in the few seconds of stillness Scully allowed me before bucking against my jaw with a high-pitched whine, I swear I could feel her pulse pounding against my tongue. Scully didn't seem interested in these finer details, though. I could feel her impatience, and I remembered, again, her frustration night before, how she said she couldn't relax. Reluctantly, I pulled my mouth away from her. "What do you need, Scully?" I asked. "I want this to be perfect for you. I want to try to make it perfect this time." She moved back a bit and slumped over, kissing all over my face. "Can you wait for me, Mulder?" she asked, her voice rough. "Please wait for me. I need..." She trailed off, but her hands had found me again, and the tugging at my cock told me what she was asking for. "Scully," I sighed, my hands sliding over the soft planes of her cheeks, thumbs tracing her luscious lips. "God, whatever you want. Anything." She smiled down at me, a little bashful, then tilted my erection to the right angle and sank slowly down onto me, enclosing me in a sheath of hot, wet satin that threatened to push me to orgasm immediately. I stilled her, hands firmly on her hips, cock buried in her heat, until I was able to pull back from the edge. Scully sensed what I was doing and kept quiet around me until I nodded and then pushed up against her, the precipice held at bay for the time being. Scully began to move, sliding up and down me like a carousel horse on its pole, cheeks flushed, mouth open, eyes closed. At first I tried to match her rhythm, but I found it too hard to keep up with her--couldn't concentrate worth a damn--so I just lay back and let her set the pace. She opened her eyes and looked down at me, hands tracing paths of fire over my chest. "So good, Mulder. You feel so good in me. Can you wait for me?" she asked again. I tried to mentally ground my body so it wouldn't fly away from me before she was done with it. There was just no way that I was going to let myself come before Scully did. Not this time. Resolve strengthened, I answered her. "Mmm... I can wait, Scully. God, you're gorgeous. Feel incredible. I could watch you do this forever." She sighed her acknowledgement and tipped herself forward, leaning her hands on my shoulders. A little awkwardly, she stretched her legs out along the outside of mine, so the majority of her weight was carried in the relatively small area that connected us. Using her hands for leverage, Scully set a quick, rocking rhythm that moved her shallowly up and down on me, pushing our pubic bones and their fleshy pads together. I could imagined that I could feel the heat and firmness of her clitoris against the base of my penis with every gliding hitch of her hips. Scully's whole body was flushed to match her cheeks, and her nipples extended sharply out at me. I stretched my neck to lap at them with my tongue as they danced enticingly in front of me, trying to concentrate on the swaying beauty above me to hold my own need at a manageable level. A soft keening sound that reminded me of wind blowing through screen door filled the room. I placed a hand lightly on Scully's exposed throat, bared as she extended her neck, and felt the accompanying vibrations there. I felt her larynx constrict as she started moaning more loudly, words slipping through occasionally. "Oh, yeah... Mulder.... so sweet in me oohhhmmmulderrr..." The sound of my name cradled in the middle of her groan coaxed a matching moan from my throat. "Scuuuuhly. Oh, geez." Her strokes grew stronger and longer, pounding our bodies together at an altogether unnerving pace. "I... oh, yeah. I'm right there... so close, Mulder." I wanted to help her somehow, but couldn't think about much more than the velvety pounding of our bodies and the slick vice around my cock. I held desperately onto the edge of the plateau I'd reached and hoped that Scully would forgive me if I fell over the edge without her again. Suddenly, the pitch of her moans changed. I opened my eyes and watched in wonder as her neck strained and her mouth worked wordlessly. I felt her hands dig tightly into my shoulders, and instinctively I grabbed her hips and started slamming myself up into her, pushing her hips quickly side to side each time our bodies met. She tensed, clenching tightly around me, and then came with a hoarse cry ripped from her shaking body. She fell forward on me, twitching and jerking, but I kept my hands at her hips, thrusting home through her rippling clasp and letting my own coming cry echo hers. ========================= After, as she lay limp in my arms, not quite dozing, I played lazily with her hair and thought. My limbs felt heavy and loose, but my mind was alert and busy. "Why didn't you tell your mom?" I asked idly, as I smoothed a lock of auburn hair over my lips. Scully was sleepy and slow to respond. "Hmm?" She shifted a bit, turning to her side and pulling herself up onto an elbow so she could look at me straight. "You're not going to tell her, are you?" I pressed. "Mulder, it happened yesterday," Scully said, the tired edge that I knew well, but hadn't heard since the bathroom this morning creeping back into her voice. "I'm still telling myself about it." I considered holding my tongue, but couldn't manage it. "It just happened again, Scully. Once more and it'll be a pattern." Scully didn't respond. "But you're not going to tell her, am I right?" I pressed. Scully sighed. "No, Mulder, not right away. Probably not." "She hate me?" I asked, twirling that same lock of silky hair around my fingertips. "Is that why?" Scully smiled that sad little almost-smile. "Once again, this is not all about you, Mulder. A lot of the things I do are only about me." "How can this be only about you, Scully? I'm right here, naked, sticky, and taking up more than my share of your bed." "I just mean that I have to make my decisions based on me. My parents never approved of my joining the FBI. I've been struggling to prove them wrong ever since. My father... God, you would have hated each other. Complete opposites, except the inherent urge to right all the wrongs of the world... My mother, my brothers, they just want me to be safe and happy. Missy was the only one who didn't see my having a challenging career and my being happy as mutually exclusive, and now she's gone." Though her voice was steady, I saw her mouth twitch a little as she spoke her sister's name. "That's what I want, Scully. To keep you safe and make you happy." "But Mulder, you see that happening in a different way than they do. They see it happening by my getting away from you." I felt a stinging burn in my sinuses. "You think that I don't think that might be the way to keep you safe, Scully? I do, sometimes. If I thought that it would really keep you safe, I'd walk away from you tonight. I'd run. But it's too late for that. The only way we're strong enough to fight them is together." Not to mention that I would surely die if I tried to go on without her. Scully's hand smoothed over my cheek, calming me with its steadiness. "I know that. I know. But they don't see it. They can't understand. It's hard for them--after Missy, after everything that's happened-- So I need some time to figure out how to let them know." I unraveled my arms and legs, which seemed freakishly long next to her petite frame, and sat up. Scully pulled herself up next to me and tugged the sheet up around her, turning to sit facing me. I got a brief flash of her bare breasts before she tucked the sheet under her armpits and drew a knee up as a resting place for her chin. Her hair was tangled and pushed up around the crown of her head, giving her a weird Sixties-ish hairdo. Sex hair, I realized. I'd seen Scully with bed head before, but sex head was a different look, one I didn't really know how to patch together with the Scully I knew by heart. Scully must have noticed my scrutiny, because she dragged her hand over the back of her head, smoothing her hair a little. "We took a huge step here, Mulder," she said. "I didn't think we would ever be in this spot." "You never thought about doing this?" I asked disbelievingly. Scully rolled her eyes at me. "Of course I thought about it. I just didn't think we would really do it. It was a boundary I was comfortable with, Mulder. I was used to it, and it felt safe." "I want everyone to know, Scully," I whispered fiercely, knowing how naive a thing it was to think, let alone say out loud. Leaning up against me, Scully sighed. "You know that's a bad idea, right? I can't tell my family yet, and we absolutely have to keep this separate from work." "So today's how it's going to be?" I asked, with more petulance in my voice than I'd intended. "All business at the office, then going at it like weasels the minute we're in our own territory?" "Listen," she interrupted, using her I'm Sure There's A Reasonable Explanation For This voice. "We have to be discreet about this, Mulder." "You think they don't already that we're doing this, Scully? You think there isn't some guy in a cheap apartment who didn't just get an earful of us? If not an eyeful?" Scully turned a brilliant shade of pink, but her voice remained cool despite the heat radiating from her upper body. "I know that, Mulder. I've thought about that. So, for modesty's sake, we have the Gunmen sweep every week. But there are appearances to keep up." "Appearances? Since when does the X-Files try to keep up appearances? The entire Bureau thinks we're quacks. And quacks who've been fucking madly since day one, at that." "And that doesn't even bother you, does it, Mulder?" she asked, anger rising in her voice. She shook her head at me and continued. "You have no idea what it's like being a woman in that organization. People think you're sleeping with me, and they give you sly winks and nudges in the hallway. But people think I'm sleeping with you, and they assume I'm too stupid to sleep my way *out* of the basement." I started to form a retort, but she launched back into her rant before I could even figure out what to interrupt her with. "If a female agent gets a commendation, a raise, God forbid a promotion, people will always wonder if it's because she was banging someone. If you get reprimanded, people wonder who you *stopped* sleeping with. I work in the least conventional section ever in existence, but at least I know that the people who know me--the ones who see me as more than just Mrs. Spooky--they respect my work, my methods. They know I'm a good agent." That stung, but I kept my mouth shut. "I've worked hard to earn my own reputation, based on the validity of my work--our work--and I don't want to go back to having people wondering who I'm blowing to get our crazy 302s approved." Scully paused for a breath, and I rubbed my hand over her arm, trying to let her know I was still listening if she had more to say, which she did. "You know what bugs me about being Mrs. Spooky? Other than hating the way they mock you?" My heart warmed infinitesimally at that, and I stroked her head in gratitude for her loyalty in the face of adversity. "Mostly it's that they don't even think of me as a separate entity from you. As far as they're concerned, what you think, I think. What you represent, I represent. You'll never be Mr.--" Scully stopped short. "Jesus, I don't even have a nickname that's about me," she finished flatly, wind taken soundly from her sails. She did have a nickname, but I doubted it would add anything to her argument, and I didn't want to piss her off any more, so instead of filling her in, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and pulled her into my lap so her bare back pressed against my front. "You know I'd be your Mr. Scully any time you asked, don't you?" She reached up and back and felt around for my cheek, then patted it. "I know, Mulder." "I'll lay off about your mom, too, I promise," I told her, kissing her temple. "Take all the time you need." "Thank you." "I love you, Scully," I murmured into the fine hair behind her ear, suddenly realizing I hadn't told her today, the first day I was allowed to tell her. "I know, Mulder," she said again. "I'll do anything you need." Scully twisted out of my embrace and turned to look at me. "Heat up the tofu and peanut sauce for me?" "If you're comfortable taking that step," I said, untangling myself from her and the sheets and getting out of bed. "I don't want us to rush into cooking together if you're not ready." She gave me a shove, her hand cold enough on my bare butt to make me jump. "Smart ass! And who said anything about cooking *together*?" I had pulled on my boxers and shirt and was most of the way to the kitchen before I noticed that she hadn't said she loved me too. ======================== I awoke Tuesday morning in much the same position I had the day before, slightly less surprised to find Scully naked and draped over me, but no less aroused. Scully's head was on my shoulder, her own shoulder wedged into my armpit. Her free arm lay limply across my chest, and one of her legs rested heavily across my hips. Arching a little, I pushed my wide-awake cock against the softness of her thigh and sighed in contentment. A few more rubbing thrusts, and the thigh shifted against me as Scully drifted awake. She moved her leg and slid an exploring hand down my body. "Again?" she muttered into my collarbone. "Mulder, you're thirty- seven years old. Isn't there a limit to how many times you're able to do this in a given period of time?" "Normally, yes," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "But it depends greatly on how long it's been since you've gotten any, and how long you've been dying to get some from the person you spend all your time with, but aren't allowed to touch, no matter how much you've wanted to." I felt her chuckle against my neck as her hand stopped glancing over my penis and closed firmly around it. Squeezing my eyes shut, I groaned through clenched teeth as she started moving her hand up and down. "And how long has it been?" "Since I got any," I hissed, "or since I started wanting it from you?" "Both," she growled, tongue slithering up my throat and darting around my ear. "Ooohh, I'd say... uhhm... Christ, you're making it very hard for me to concentrate, Scully." Her grip tightened enough to wrench a full-throated moan out of me. "Don't dodge the question, Agent Mulder," she warned. "Since I got any, um... God, like three and a half years?" Her fingers were undulating around me, her other hand went to work tormenting my inner thighs, skittering over and around my aching balls. "And you've wanted it from me since..." "Since you--unh--when you dropped your robe during that storm on our first case. I had no idea you were that hot." Scully's hand paused just for a moment, and I pushed my hips up to remind her to stay on task. "Really? Why not?" she asked, and her hand started moving again, thank God. "Those suits, Scully. Too bulky. God, you're so good at that. Please don't stop." "Better than your own right hand?" she asked, biting my earlobe and making me jump, which just jerked me farther into her fist. "Oh, God, Scully, so much better. I could get used to this," I sighed, feeling everything start to tighten and constrict. I dragged the arm that held her against me up her back and tangled my hand in her hair, turning her head enough for her to get the message and look up at me. "I want to get used to this, Scully." I closed my eyes as I came, groaning and gasping, and felt her lips flutter over my eyelids, and I remember thinking, "Look out, you bastards, 'cause we are unfuckingstoppable now." =================== We were unstoppable for six blissful nights and six joyful mornings. The daylight hours were for work, and we directed our energy into the X-Files and worked hard and well. Between twilight and the alarm clock, we let the passion we'd thrown into our work for so many years redirect itself to feed the blue-hot flame that had taken us over. And on the seventh day, Jacob Haley's New Spartan cronies contacted me, and it all turned to shit.