WAITING PERIOD

by Eleanore  <bonyun@oanet.com>

RATING...  NC 17

WARNING...  Scully/Mulder romance

DISCLAIMER:

     The characters and situations of the television program

"The X Files" are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox

Broadcasting, and Ten-Thirteen Productions, and have been used

without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.

X-PHILES:

     You are welcome to re-post or otherwise distribute this

story among other X-Philes, as long as you do so for free, and my

name and e-mail address go with it as author.

SUMMARY:

     Archive classifications  S R A

     The aftermath of a kiss. Originally posted to a.t.x.c.

November, 1995.



                +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



     Her skin was warm. The soft downy hair on the nape of her neck

tickled his mouth and his nose. A slight taste of salt. The

familiar fragrance of her shampoo.

     She froze like a startled deer.

     What was he thinking of? In slow motion he removed his lips,

opening his eyes to see the tender translucent skin and the wayward

red-gold wisps that had tempted him into such an imprudent act. She

remained silent and still. Was she angry? Was she embarrassed? Did

she like it?

     She couldn't move. One moment she was placing the slides he

was handing her in the carousel, thinking only of getting them all

upside down and emulsion side in. The next moment she was

transfixed, her whole being focused on the square inch of skin

receiving his gentle kiss. She waited to see what he would do. Was

he sorry? Was he embarrassed? Did he like it?

     He wanted to do it again. Just to see if her skin was really

that velvety and sweet. But he was afraid to do anything without

some sign from her. He waited, his eyes following the drift of

faint freckles that disappeared into the collar of her blouse.

     She should say something. She should move away, show her

disapproval, dismiss it as a temporary lapse... soon to be

forgotten. But she simply couldn't. His soft breath was going down

her collar and she wanted very much to know how the tender warmth

of his lips would feel on every other square inch of her skin.

     She should have said something by now. She should have moved

away. But she hadn't. Did this mean tacit permission? His heart

raced. Only one way to be sure. He leaned closer and nuzzled the

back of her neck gently, placing another kiss just to the left of

where the first one had been. He waited only a moment before

placing the third. Her skin really was that velvety and sweet.

     She made an inarticulate sound of pleasure and turned slowly

towards him, arching her neck so that he could kiss under her jaw.

     When he heard her little moan he lost conscious control over

the kisses. He devoured her, working his way forward, under her

chin and down her throat... each kiss leaving him more hungry for

her... along the fragile collarbone, up in front of her ear and

into her hair at the temple. Nothing... nothing had the right to

taste this good. His hands were on her now, lightly running over

all the curves and planes of her that he had long ago memorized

with his eyes.

     She was lost. She couldn't catch her balance. Where was her

voice of reason? She could only hear the rushing sound of her blood

punctuated by the little animal noises that she was making. They

made her feel vaguely ashamed, but she couldn't stop them. He was

inside the back of her collar now, pulling it aside to bare her

freckled shoulder. Her skin was flushed and super sensitive, each

of his caresses sending a shock wave of pleasure through her...

there, the yielding pressure of his lips... and there, the firmer

pressure that was his nose seeking blindly... a puff of warm, moist

breath...  a tentative nibble... and... oh... the hot silky stroke

of his tongue. She leaned into him, needing his support. It felt

almost too good to bear, and yet she couldn't help thinking about

how much more intense and delicious it would be if she removed her

clothes and let him kiss his way over forbidden skin. There was a

tingling deep and low. She would be swollen and hot. And so would

he. She would be wet, preparing the way. She ached with an

exquisite pain that could only be soothed by one thing: having this

man push his way inside her.

     He was drunk on the sweetness of her skin. He wanted to take

off her clothes so that he could taste all of her. The little

noises that she made were exciting him, urging him on, but her

hands were against his chest. She wasn't pushing him away, but they

were there. He put his face down into the front of her blouse and

kissed the unbelievable softness. As he slid one hand in to free

her breast he heard her voice. "Stop." It was so faint that he

wanted to pretend he hadn't heard it.

     They were in treacherous waters. Flooding hormones had created

a seductive and powerful current of physical pleasure which was

sweeping them along at a dizzying speed. Soon they would plunge

over the edge... that weightless elevator feeling in their stomachs

as they fell headlong, no longer having the power to stop even if

they should want to. They wouldn't regain control until they

drifted back to shore far downstream, bruised and spent. She bit

hard on her lip, pulling together a few shreds of her willpower.

     "Please stop." Realizing that the pressure of her hands

against his chest might only be serving to fuel his determination,

she slid her arms around him and held him tight, effectively

stopping his hand in its quest.

     He wrapped his arms around her in return and held her hard

against him. He wanted her to feel his erection. He wanted her to

know how much he wanted her. He pressed into her, yearning to be

closer to her, as close as possible... and closer still. He willed

their clothes to disappear, their very skins to melt away...

allowing him to enter her cell by cell, atom by atom... to blend

with her, thought for thought, feeling for feeling. Then at last...

completely enveloped by her... then at last he might feel close

enough.

     Weak and trembling with shared desire, they hung on to each

other... combining what little strength they had left to hold their

position against the roar of the current. Long agonizing seconds

passed. Gradually the torrent became a manageable stream again.

They dared not move. It would only take a little stimulation of

body against body to start them off on that wild ride again. Slowly

their flesh and their heads cooled. Sanity returned, even if

unwelcome.

     "Tell me what you want to do," he whispered hoarsely. "You're

the sensible one in this partnership."

     Her voice was small, coming from where her face was still

buried in his chest. "Not this time."

     He smiled into her hair. Her walls were well and truly

crumbled. He felt satisfaction... and he felt concern. As much as

he had wanted to, he must not accept her surrender in a moment of

temporary madness that might later be regretted. She had been wise

to stop them. When they let this thing happen it had to be because

they were both ready and willing, choosing it consciously with

clear minds. There must be no room for recrimination later.

     He cleared his throat. "I propose a three day waiting period.

Like when you want to buy a gun or get married." He loosened his

hold on her. She raised her head to meet his eyes, but their faces

were too naked. They each looked aside to protect the other. "If we

both still want to do this after the three days, we'll go away for

the weekend and do it properly. What do you say?"

     She swallowed. "Very sensible. I agree." Reaction was setting

in. Her knees were starting to shake. He felt her quaking and moved

to hold her again.

     "You okay?"

     She could only nod. Pushing away from him she made a blind

grab for her coat and briefcase and got out of the office as fast

as her unsteady legs would carry her. She made it to her car on

instinct alone. Driving carefully she circled to the back of the

block and pulled into an empty parking space. After making sure

that her doors were locked, she turned sideways on the seat and

hugged her knees, holding herself together while she waited for the

shakes to pass. She couldn't have stopped herself. She had only

summoned enough strength to say the words, not to act on them, but

he had stopped when she asked. Tears of gratitude, confusion and

frustrated hunger ran down her face.

     Left alone, Mulder's passion was replaced by tenderness and

worry. He had never seen her so rattled. He hoped she got home

safely. He placed the last of the slides in the tray and put them

on the projector ready for the morning.

     He felt pretty rattled himself. Her skin had worked sorcery on

him. A few simple kisses on her neck and his brain had totally

disconnected, leaving his body to act on a primitive sensory level

with a complete lack of self awareness. A state of nirvana that he

had only had brief glimpses of in the past. The scent of the warm

dark place between her breasts was haunting him. He wanted to feel

her against his face again. His erection was returning. There was

no way he could go home alone tonight.

     As he walked to his car Mulder decided to pick up a few beers

and go spend the evening with Frohike and his pals. Their own

particular brand of insanity would divert him. If the worst came to

the worst, he could share his predicament with them and they would

surely understand.

     Scully took a moment to blow her nose before she rang the

doorbell.

     "Dana! What's wrong?" Margaret Scully reached out to her

daughter and felt her trembling. "What is it? Did you have an

accident with your car?"

     "No... no, Mom. The car's fine. Everything's fine."

     "Come in... come in." Mrs. Scully led her into the living

room. In the brighter light she saw Dana's tearstained face, her

eyes full of confusion, her skin still mottled with a sexual flush.

Margaret was shocked. "You'd better sit down. You look like you

have a fever. Are you ill?" Margaret sat on the sofa, drawing Dana

down to sit beside her.

     "Mom, really, I'm okay." Scully's voice was thin and unsteady.

"I'm not hurt, I'm not sick. I'm not in trouble."  She drew in a

shaky breath. "I'm just a little upset."

     Margaret knew that it took a lot to make Dana admit to being

disturbed. The tears didn't sound very far away. She put her arm

around her. "It's okay, honey. There's no one here but me and you."

     Dana allowed herself to cry some more. She wasn't sure why she

was crying. It just felt good to let go... it eased the pressure

inside her. After a short while she came to a natural lull, feeling

safe and relaxed in her mother's embrace.

     "All right now. You go and wash your face. I'll make us a pot

of tea. I'll bet you haven't eaten for hours, have you."

     Scully did as her mother told her. Letting someone else make

the decisions was soothing. When she went into the kitchen a few

minutes later, she looked and felt much more her normal self.

     Her mother handed her a plate with fruit on it. A fresh

orange, peeled and sliced, with a sprinkle of cinnamon. Invalid

food from her childhood. Scully smiled. "Thanks, Mom. I feel better

already."

     "You'll feel stronger with a little of this stew inside you.

It will be hot in a couple of minutes. Sit down. You want to talk

now or eat first?"

     Scully took her time chewing a mouthful of orange. "I know

that I won't get out of here without telling you the whole story,

so I might as well get it over with."

     "You've got that right." They smiled at each other with

affection. "Something to do with work?"

     Scully pushed away the empty fruit plate and stared at her

hands. "Something that happened at the office, but not work."

     "Go on."

     "It sounds stupid out of context."

     "Tell me anyway."

     "Mulder kissed me."

     All of a sudden the tears and the flushed skin made sense.

Surely he hadn't...

     "Dana! Fox didn't force... "

     "No, no. He didn't!" Scully rushed to defend him. She looked

at her mother with big unhappy eyes. "But I wanted him to."

     So that's how it was. Margaret Scully felt a surge of relief.

Not knowing what the trouble was she had been imagining all manner

of horrors. But the problem turned out to be simple and earthly.

She smiled to herself as she dished up the stew. Problems of the

heart she could handle.

     "So, Fox kissed you and you liked it."

     Scully nodded.

     Margaret put the plate in front of her daughter and then

stroked back her hair with a comforting hand. "So... what's the

problem?"

     "Mother! I can't go around lusting after my partner. We have

to work together. We're supposed to be professionals."

     "Was that all it was? Lust?"

     Scully frowned and side stepped the question. "He suggested

that we could go away together for the weekend. He's going to

expect an answer in a couple of days. I don't know what to do. I

can't think straight."

     "Eat." Margaret sat opposite and ate her own stew. After a

short silence her curiosity got the better of her. "Fox has never

kissed you before?"

     Scully shrugged. "A peck on the cheek for birthdays and New

Years. Once, when I was very frightened, he hugged me and kissed

the top of my head. Why?"

     "I'm a little surprised. You spend a lot of time together."

      "We're partners, Mom. It's a special kind of bond, a special

kind of trust. When you're happy with your partner and you work

well together, you don't want to jeopardize that for anything. It's

not just unprofessional to become intimately involved with your

partner, it's just plain stupid."

     "Fox shares this point of view?"

     "So I've always assumed. We've never actually discussed it.

But he's always treated me in a professional manner."

     "So how did this kiss happen then?"

     Scully made a helpless gesture with her fork. "I don't know.

It just came out of the blue. We weren't flirting or touching or

anything like that. He kissed me... on the back of my neck..." She

reached up and ran her hand across the nape of her neck in wonder.

"... and it led to another... and another... " She trailed off in

embarrassment.

     Margaret watched in fascination as her daughter's face

changed. In her years with the FBI Dana had taken on a lean,

sculpted beauty. But as she remembered Mulder's kisses her face

became softer and younger looking. More like it had been when she

was still at school... unguarded and vulnerable.

     "Seems as if he really got to you," Margaret said gently. "Are

you in love with him?"

     Scully met the blunt question bravely. "No. Or at least I

don't think so. After what happened today I'm not as sure."

     "How DO you feel about him?"

     "I'm very fond of him. I enjoy his company. He's a good

friend... currently, my best friend. We watch out for one another.

If this was about anything else but Mulder, I might be talking to

him about it right now. And I have been aware of his sexuality...

I'm not made of stone... but you can enjoy a man's sexual

attraction without acting on it, without being in love with him."

     They ate in silence as Margaret considered what to say.

     "Well, honey, I could be wrong, but I think that Fox is in

love with you."

     "He's never said anything."

     "But I saw how it affected him when you were gone. I've seen

how he treats you." She poured them both more tea.

     "How he treats me?"

     "He's very solicitous in little things. Always opening doors

for you, taking your arm, guiding you through. He touches you a

lot."

     "He's gentle and chivalrous with all women and children, and

especially crime victims. I don't think he treats me differently,

or touches me more... that's just the way he is. It's one of the

things that I like about him. Many people who work with crime

become hardened to the point that they forget about the victim's

feelings. Even after all Mulder has suffered he still treats

victims with kindness and willingly shares their pain.

     "Maybe so. I haven't seen him with others. But I find it

interesting that you LET him open doors for you and usher you

through. Seems to me you have dumped other men for less. You have

always scorned all that sexist chivalry because you felt it was

demeaning."

     Scully chased the last pea around her plate. Her mother had a

point. Normally she hated any kind of behaviour that implied

patronage. "Well... I guess with Mulder I don't take offence

because he makes it clear in other ways that he respects me. That

he values my brains and my abilities. Different, but equal.

Besides... " She got up and cleared away the plates, smiling

fondly. "It's pretty well an instinctive behaviour with him. He's

like an old sheep dog with only one ewe. It would be mean to

deprive him of the pleasure of herding me around." She rinsed the

plates and put them in the dishwasher before she turned back to her

mother and acknowledged the truth with an embarrassed smile. "And

when Mulder does it, I like it."

     "I suspected as much. So you do have feelings for him."

     Scully nodded reluctantly. "But I don't think it's love. It's

just a comfortable, affectionate, close friendship. There's no

romance. There are no fireworks going off."

     "No? Wasn't what happened today like fireworks going off?"

     "But that wasn't love either. That was pure sex."

     "And it felt good."

     Scully gave a deep sigh. "Yes, it felt very good." She cast

around for another adjective but couldn't come up with one she

could use with her mother. "Very good."

     "Shook you to your roots, judging by your state when you

arrived."

     "Yes," she conceded in a quiet voice, her eyes on the tea

leaves in the bottom of her cup.

     "Dana. You surprise me. The truth is staring you right in the

face and you won't see it."

     "What truth?" Scully's chin came up defensively.

     "Fox Mulder. He loves you. And you love him." Margaret laid

her hand on Dana's arm and gave it a little shake.

     "Trust yourself. Listen to yourself. You have just finished

extolling to me the virtues of a man that you acknowledge to be

your best friend. Then you tell me that his kisses affected you so

deeply that it scared you half to death. That's the description of

a man to love. A man I think you already do love. Friendship and

sex. There's no other `secret' ingredient, Dana. It's like pie

crust. Very simple recipe, but difficult to make well."

     Scully laughed as she stood up to go. She wasn't very good at

making pastry. "You make it all sound so straightforward, Mom."

     "It is. Why are you trying to make it complicated?"

     "I keep coming up against the fact that we work together. It

just seems tacky and weak to fall for your partner. I've looked

down my nose at others who have let this happen." She looked up

from buttoning her raincoat. "Usually it's only a temporary affair,

you know. They tarnish their reputations and destroy their

partnership, just because they can't resist the temptations of

working in close proximity. I don't want to be one of them." She

faced her mother, briefcase in hand, ready to take on the world

once more.

     "Dana." Margaret sighed and shook her head. "You have always

set very high standards for yourself, and that's good. But don't

let yourself become rigid. Life can destroy you with a snap. You

have to be flexible to survive." She placed her hand against her

daughter's cheek. "Don't throw away happiness because it doesn't

fit in with FBI protocol. Just because it's unprofessional, just

because these things often turn out to be only temporary affairs...

doesn't necessarily mean that a man and a woman who are partners

can't also be deeply and truly in love."

     The two women stood for a moment, looking at each other

solemnly. The younger in frowning thought. The older in loving

concern.

     "Thanks, Mom. For dinner... and everything."

     "Anytime, Honey."

     "Good night."

     "God bless."


++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


     The first day was torture. Scully was glad that it wasn't one

of those days spent chasing through dark places with guns drawn.

They were so distracted, one of them would surely have gotten hurt.

They didn't get much work done; she couldn't think at all if he was

too close. She spent some unnecessary time in the lab just to get

away from him.

     Thank God he didn't tease or joke about it. Mulder treated her

with a polite gravity... which was awkward but not as mortifying as

it would have been if he had treated the issue as a source of

humour.

     Finally it was late enough that she could leave the office

without causing undue comment. As she was putting on her long black

raincoat he touched her arm. She froze. Was he going to tell her

not to worry about it? Had he already decided the question for

them? He had said: "If we BOTH still feel this way..."

     Mulder had something he had to say. All day he had been

wondering if it would be better to say it or better to leave it

unspoken. He didn't want to pressure her but he didn't want to be

misinterpreted either.

     "Scully... I just wanted to make one thing clear. When I said

that we could go away for a few days... I didn't mean to imply that

it would just be a brief fling, something to sweep under the

carpet." He licked his lips and plunged on. "I meant it more in the

sense of a honeymoon... a memorable start to something good...

something that would hopefully last a long time."

     He had indeed already cast his vote, and it was in favour. She

felt a bubbly warmth spread through her, quickly followed by a gut

twisting anxiety. She was going to have the responsibility of

deciding their future? What if she made the wrong choice?

     Sensing her apprehension he smiled. "Don't be afraid to say no

if you're not completely sure about it. A no vote can always be

changed to a yes, later." Now that what had been worrying him was

off his mind, his sense of humour resurfaced. "It might not be so

easy to reverse the results of a yes vote."

     She couldn't resist smiling in return, the image of herself,

very pregnant with his child, leaping unbidden into her mind.

     "Thanks for the clarification, Mulder."

     Without a doubt, he was the most empathetic, gentle and caring

man she had ever come across. He was just a little loopy on certain

subjects, she reminded herself as she drove home. His little speech

had cleared away some of the nervous tension. She finally felt calm

enough to give the matter some intelligent thought. She had to

examine this from all sides.

     Most important of all, what would be the effect on her career

with the FBI? They didn't exactly lean over backwards to

accommodate female agents. No one would get too bent out of shape

if they were just sleeping together, but Mulder had made it plain

that he had something deeper and more lasting in mind. If word got

around that they were a couple she was afraid there would be a

subtle but definite shift in the way her superiors and co-workers

viewed her. First they would be separated. Then she would be given

fewer and fewer dangerous or demanding assignments, providing fewer

and fewer opportunities to distinguish herself. Gradually she would

be squeezed out and left behind by all the eager young men. She had

seen it happen to other female agents. If she and Mulder became a

couple she would have to be prepared to take another direction in

her work. Something less prestigious, safer, more easily combined

with children. For she had no doubts... after experiencing the

heady, sexual pull of his body at close range... there would be

children. She sighed. She had worked long and hard to get where she

was. Wouldn't she resent giving it up?

     At home, she got into bed with a mug of soup and a pad of

paper. She made a scrupulously honest list of all the pros and cons

connected with saying yes, or saying no. It was interesting. The

facts dictated that she would be smarter to say no. But the

knowledge didn't make her happy.

     She shoved the papers impatiently onto the floor. Turning out

the light she lay down, hugging her pillow to mute the craving

inside her. If she said no, how long would it be before she could

close her eyes and not relive that second kiss? Dress or undress

without feeling his hand seeking her breast?

     The second day was easier. They were called into Skinner's

office early for a briefing, along with several other agents.

Skinner treated them in the same brusque manner as always. Clearly

they seemed normal to him.

     Taking the list of names that Skinner had given them, they

spent the rest of the day out tracking down background information

and interviewing witnesses. Being in public, interacting with other

people, helped them to re-establish their professional

relationship. By the end of the day they were functioning smoothly

as a team again, their minds fully focused on their work. They even

had a simple dinner together without incident. Mulder made a few

carefully non-sexual jokes and she was able to laugh at them. They

talked easily about unimportant things.

     When she got into bed that night she could almost convince

herself that she must have imagined the whole thing. What exactly

had happened, anyway? She had been kissed by a very attractive man.

Certainly wasn't the first time that had happened. A man who was

her friend and who was fond of her. He hadn't said he loved her,

had he? He hadn't even kissed her on the mouth. So what was the big

deal about a few kisses on the neck and face? Nothing had happened.

Nothing that couldn't be explained away as a temporary lapse of

professional conduct brought on by proximity and fatigue. They were

only human, after all, and neither of them currently had any other

romantic attachments. Perhaps they were both making too much out of

this.

     Mulder could tell immediately by her demeanour the next

morning that she had made up her mind to say no. He wasn't

surprised. And although he was disappointed, he wasn't too

concerned. She could hide from it a little longer if she wished,

but he felt confident that the issue would resurface shortly. She

had wanted it just as much as he had. The passionate emotional and

electro-chemical connection they had experienced didn't happen

without two willing participants. It had to have left a chink in

her armour.

     He watched her fondly all morning. She had even regained the

confidence to argue with him over their usual bone of contention...

their differences in methodology and interpretation of the facts.

She was just as stubborn and prickly as ever.

     Late afternoon found them working quietly, each concentrating

on the aspects of the case that were within their areas of

expertise. When the mail came by, they both looked up smiling, glad

of a little break.

     "Hi, Joe," Mulder called cheerfully to the retired cop who was

their mail clerk. "Any good gossip today?"

     Joe limped over to place a fat bundle of mail on Scully's

desk. "I guess you guys haven't heard. You're kind of cut off down

here in the basement."

     "So tell us." Mulder stood up to stretch.

     "Young Giordano bought it yesterday."

     The two agents were stunned. Luc Giordano was a most likeable

and promising rookie.

     "He was just doing leg work, checking up on possible suspects

out on parole. Some hopped-up ex-con, who must have been up to no

good, lost his cool and blew Giordano's head off with a shot gun."

Joe shook his head sadly. "A more experienced agent might have seen

it coming. I don't know."

     Scully and Mulder remained speechless. Giordano had been

working on the same case as they had been yesterday. He had just

been given a different list of people to check out.

     "You never know when you leave your house in the morning

whether you'll be back in the evening." Joe remembered a box that

was for Mulder and reached down to the lower shelf of his cart with

a grunt. "My Angela accepted the fact that my job was dangerous but

we never let ourselves forget it. Every morning of our time

together, I would be sure to tell her that I loved her before I

left for work, just in case I never saw her again. Then in the end

it was the Cancer that took her away, leaving me behind." He turned

to go. "Better open that box right away, Mulder... it smells funny.

Have a good weekend, both of you."

     Scully felt as if the bottom had dropped out of her stomach.

Cold comfort it would be to know that her career was thriving as

she attended Mulder's funeral. Work was work... but Mulder was...

life. No other man had ever managed to circumnavigate all her

defences and intertwine his life with hers the way that Mulder had.

He nourished her in a thousand subtle ways, keeping her inner self

alive and warm while allowing her to keep up her professional

facade. Why was she pretending that she didn't love him?

     Mulder sat down and pushed some papers around on his desk

unhappily. Why hadn't he said that he loved her? He had come very

close when he had explained his interpretation of going away

together. He just felt self-conscious about actually saying those

words out loud. Surely she knew that he loved her. He knew that she

loved him, even though she might not be certain of it herself, yet.

      "Mulder?" She brought him into focus. Slightly mussed hair,

friendly eyes, long muscular arms, brown against rolled up

shirtsleeves. She swallowed to moisten her mouth.

     "I do love you." She continued to regard him seriously.

     "Oh, Scully. I love you, too. I just wasn't quite brave enough

to say it out loud."

     "You express it loud and clear, every day, in little ways. But

it's nice to hear confirmation." She smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry.

I haven't been as generous as you in demonstrating my feelings."

     "Yes, you have. You're still here in the basement with me,

aren't you? You still consider me worth arguing with."

     She gave a delicate snort. "Very romantic."

     Mulder grinned at her across the open files. "Well, yes, it's

nice to hear confirmation."

     Even though they were separated by half the room, she felt

connected to him in a new way. She could almost hear the little

"snick"... like the sound that a camera lens made when it was

properly seated in the body of an expensive camera. Pieces that

were perfectly made for each other smoothly meshing to become one

beautifully engineered and functional whole.

      He wanted to say it again. In a few quick steps he was at her

desk, hunkered down beside her. "I love you, Scully." Soft and

caressing this time.

     The whispered reply, "I love you, Mulder." She touched his

mouth lightly with a curious finger. These were the lips that had

done those wonderful things to her skin.

     Three days it had taken them to cool it completely. All undone

in a moment. Mulder watched the flush travel up her throat as she

turned away, fumbling for something else to do with her hands. God,

she was beautiful. He didn't think that she realized how erotic her

flushed skin was. He wanted to have her naked, pressed against the

length of his body.

     "The three days are nearly up, Scully. What do you say?"

     She turned back to him with no hesitation. "Yes."

     He went back to his own desk to use the phone. "Mr. Babcock?

Fox Mulder here. Those tickets I asked you to hold for me? Just put

them on my American Express card. Can you arrange to have them

waiting for me at the airport? Great. Thanks a lot for your help."

Picking up the package Joe had left, he gave it a cautious sniff.

He suspected it was something he didn't want to get mixed up with

just now.

     "I'm going to run over and put this in the morgue fridge. It

can wait till we get back."

     Scully was consumed with curiosity. "When will we be back?

Shouldn't we notify Skinner? What do I tell my mother?" She was

trying to be calm and businesslike but her heart was singing, her

hands were shaking.

     Mulder was striding out the door with the odorous box. "Send

Skinner an e-mail. We'll be back Wednesday. At work Thursday. What

you tell your mom is up to you."

     By the time he got back she had put away all the files she had

been working on. Her desk top was nearly empty. Her computer was

off. Mulder looked at the jumble of stuff on his own desk and

shrugged. Punching the power buttons on his computer, he grabbed

his jacket and came back to where Scully was standing.

     "Let's go, Scully." This time there would be no stopping. This

time they would let the current take them over the edge, through

the maelstrom and out the other side. But not here. He satisfied

himself temporarily with one of her hands.

     "Are we going to pack?" The new and wonderful feeling of

connection was strong in the simple act of holding hands.

     "No. The flight isn't until noon tomorrow. We can pack in the

morning." He led her out into the hall. "Not that you'll need much

more than your toothbrush and a swimsuit. I've booked four nights

in Cozumel."

     Scully was flattered and pleased that he had taken so much

trouble. She squeezed his hand. "I've never been there."

     "Warm and sandy... quiet, very casual... fabulous snorkelling.

You ever snorkel over a real coral reef, Scully?"

     "Sounds like I'll need a very large bottle of sunscreen."

     "Well, cosmetics and lotions are bad for the creatures in the

reef. Better bring a couple of extra shirts. We can rent wet

suits."

     "How are you going to get that nose inside a mask, Mulder?"

     No one paid them any attention as they left the building. It

was just Mulder and Scully, arguing and joking, off on another of

their wild goose chases. No one noticed that with every step their

arms brushed gently together. No one realized that they were taking

the first steps on a new path... that this time Agent Mulder was

taking Agent Scully home with him.

     They stopped at a deli on the way to Mulder's. Rye bread,

salad and paper thin slices of black forest ham. Mulder added some

hot wings. Scully added a couple of fat, red Delicious apples.

     "What about tomorrow morning, Mulder? You got anything edible

for breakfast?"

     "We'd better take some milk for coffee. I've got some fairly

fresh coffee. How about cream cheese on rye toast? That way we can

use up some more of the rye bread. No point in stocking up just

before going on a holiday."

     "Fair enough. And grapefruit." She selected a firm pink one.

     They waited for their turn at the cash. Buying food together

was something they had done many times before when working late or

staying in a small town that didn't offer much in the way of

restaurants, but this time felt different. Scully's stomach was

fluttering nervously. She didn't know whether she would be able to

eat any of what they were buying. She felt very self conscious...

sure that it must be obvious to the people around them that here

was a pair of new lovers.

     She looked up at Mulder. He was reading the headlines on the

evening paper, but when he sensed her eyes on him he turned and

smiled. "I usually pick up a paper, but I don't think I'll get

around to reading it tonight."

     She blushed faintly, looking around quickly to see if any one

else had interpreted his remark correctly.

     Mulder's smile softened. Feeling shy was she? Scully's

striking colouring and sculptured face always drew interested looks

from the people around them. He was always proud to be seen with

her. But this time he wasn't just "with her". This time they were

"together" and he didn't mind if the whole world knew it. Shifting

the basket to his other hand, he put his arm around her shoulders

and gave her a squeeze. "Not getting cold feet are you?" he asked

in a low voice.

     She looked up into his warm eyes. The last thing she wanted to

do was make him feel that she wasn't sure about what they were

doing. She was very sure. Sliding her arm about his waist she

leaned into him and whispered, "No cold feet. No cold anything,

here. How about you?"

     Mulder was surprised and touched by her public display of

affection. He would never have this woman completely figured

out. "Seasonal temperatures in the north. Warming trend in the

south."

     They shared a private smile. The people around them no longer

existed.


++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



     They dumped their purchases in the little kitchen.

     "The place looks pretty tidy, Mulder. Don't tell me you

cleaned up in my honour?"

     "Afraid not. Just fortuitous timing." He was putting the milk

away. "I hired a cleaning service on a bi-monthly basis and they

were just here yesterday."

     He turned to see her taking off her suit jacket and slipping

off her shoes. She was shedding Agent Dana Scully, M.D. Now she was

just his Scully. His heart swelled painfully with love and

gratitude. He didn't know what he had done right that the powers-

that-be had seen fit to send him such a woman, but he would never

stop thanking them. He set his own jacket aside and took her into

his arms. She snuggled right in and lifted up her face to be kissed

as naturally as if they did it every evening. He kissed her gently

on the forehead and cheek. Then her full, soft mouth. Without

hesitation, her lips parted to let him in and he felt her smooth,

moist inner surfaces for the first time. A thrill went down through

his core. She tasted just right. He kissed her again and again and

she met him willingly each time. It wasn't anything like the other

day. That had been dangerous and scary. This was warm and safe.

     He picked her up and sat her on the table, knocking the hot

wings onto the floor.

     "Better put those in the fridge, Mulder. Salmonella."

     "Umm."

     He scooped up the package and stuffed it away quickly. For a

split second he was pierced by the fear that he would turn around

and find himself alone, but when he turned back to the table she

was still sitting there waiting for him. Eyes big and dark, face

soft and open...

     She welcomed him back, wrapping her legs around him. He could

feel her heat through the fabric of his trousers. His senses swayed

briefly as if he was drunk. Not yet, not yet. He undid the buttons

of her blouse one by one, between kisses. Her bra was plain and

white. So demure. He reached in behind and undid the hooks, then

took the weight of one breast in his hand, freeing it from the

garment. She gave a little sigh. He looked at her face and saw that

she had her eyes closed. He ran his thumb over her nipple. It

sprang to attention as a fleeting smile crossed her features.

Enjoying his power over her, he looked down again to watch her

milky flesh move under his hand. After a moment she pulled the

brassiere down and groped for his other hand. She placed it on her

other breast and leaned into him with a little sound of

encouragement. As he kneaded and gently pinched, she melted,

bracing her arms against his shoulders for support. When it was

enough, she drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long

shuddering sigh.

     Opening her eyes, she went efficiently to work on his buckle

and zipper. When she had him out, his pants around his knees, she

didn't touch his eager penis, but instead reached down and took his

balls in her small square hand. She mercilessly stroked and kneaded

them just as he had done to her breasts. The slight risk that she

might forget and squeeze too hard, only added an edge to his

pleasure. He gave himself up to her, knowing that now she was

watching his face... enjoying her power.

     He took advantage of a pause to push her skirt farther up.

Panty hose. He hated the damn things. He made quick work of them,

pulling them right off and throwing them away. Panties. Those he

approved of. Hers were bikini style, red satin edged with black

lace. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. Quite a different message

to the bra. He'd have to analyze this later. He placed his hand

possessively on the mound that swelled the front of the panties,

purposely pressing the heel of his hand where he knew her sensitive

button was. Then he ran his fingers just under the lacey edge...

following it down and under her into the warm crease of her groin.

She quivered. He stroked along the panties' edge twice more,

teasing, before he slid his fingers under the narrow strip of

fabric and pressed them into the warm pool that was waiting for

him. He had known that she would be wet, but the physical proof of

her arousal made his heart skip a beat, as his own excitement

increased. He explored her gently, drawing the precious fluid

forward, over and around her swollen button, stroking its miniature

shaft. She became absolutely still and stopped breathing. He went

back, slowly circling the opening before sliding two long fingers

into her. An animal sound escaped from low in her throat. He

started moving inside her, letting his thumb slip across her

button.

     She came almost immediately, making hardly a sound, turning

her face away from him. He only knew because the fingers of her

left hand bit painfully into the flesh of his upper arm as she

stiffened, and then she stopped the movement of his fingers by

putting her other hand over his. He held her. Waiting. Hoping.

Hoping she would let him in to wherever she was. Was this how she

was with other men? Accepting the physical release but giving away

as little of her private self as she could? He didn't want her to

be like that with him. He didn't want her to feel that she had to

protect herself by hiding her need for it or her pleasure in it.

     "Scully," he whispered softly.

     She turned her face into his neck. "Uhmm?"

     "It's me. You don't have to hide from me."

     She relaxed her hands. "I know." He started to move inside her

again, resuming the rhythm. She climaxed more gradually this time,

moaning a formless song of joy, and allowing her body to thrash

luxuriously. His eyes stung with tears at this evidence of her

trust.

     Now she moved his hand from between her legs and drew his hips

closer. Pushing the wet fabric aside, he slid into her in one long,

deliberate stroke... expelling a sharp breath at the ecstatic

shock... grabbing her bottom and pulling her tight against him. So

good. Too good. Not yet, not yet. He moved slowly, gently, letting

it build gradually. She could enjoy it many times, but he only got

one.

     He was a little afraid of hurting her. She was so small. He

tried to hold back but she urged him deeper and deeper with her

hands on his buttocks until he forgot to be careful, forgot

everything but the smell and feel of her. She was singing her song

again, rubbing her face blindly against his chest... hot,

electrical prickling swept over his skin as sweat broke out all

over him... she spasmed against him and he was lost. Sheet

lightening. Again. Bright and hot. Deeper. Blood pounding. Blood

red. Deeper. Letting out a tortured sound. So good. Too good.

Liquid fire running up the insides of his legs as he emptied his

soul into hers. More. Deeper. Enough. Enough. Enough. He came to a

quivering stop.

     He didn't know how much time passed before he became aware of

his surroundings again. She was saying something.

     "Mulder? You're too heavy. I can't hold you any more."

     He flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry." He straightened,

shifting his weight from her back onto his own legs. They didn't

feel very steady... he had to sit down. He slid his hands under her

and she tightened her arms and legs around him. Without breaking

their connection he was able to swing around and drop backwards

onto a kitchen chair. He closed his eyes with a groan, and waited

for his strength to return.

     She was stroking back his damp hair and kissing her way along

his hairline with comforting little kisses. "You are okay, aren't

you, Mulder?"

     "Yeah. I think so. And I was worrying about you."

     "How do you mean?"

     "I was afraid I might be too long for you."

     "Well, I think you did rearrange a few of my other organs, but

it felt good, in a brutal way."

     He laughed and opened his eyes. There she was. Not a dream.

The real flesh and blood woman. Her white thighs astride his lap,

her panties still in place except where his now shrinking cock had

snuck past them. Hair all mussed, clothes awry, face soft and

glowing with love and sex. Close enough to touch. He didn't think

he had ever seen anything more beautiful. He laid a hand reverently

against her cheek.

     "Do you always come so quickly?"

     She turned her face and nuzzled into his palm. "Nothing quick

about it. It took three days."

     He chuckled appreciatively. She dropped her eyes before going

on. "It's not usually as fast as that. I was a little trigger happy

tonight. But it's normally easy for me. It comes with the red hair

and pale skin. My nervous system is very sensitive. It compensates

somewhat for the sunburns and the easy blushing."

     "Other women must hate you."

     "I don't know. I don't go around telling people."

     "No. A well kept secret. All these months you've been going

around looking cool and forbidding, scaring the hell out of me, and

it turns out that just below that icy exterior you're a hot

tamale." He reached into her open blouse and tweaked a nipple.

     She was grinning. Apparently she liked being called a hot

tamale. "Now that you know, I hope you will still continue to treat

me with the proper respect on the job." She removed his hand and

fastened her bra. "If it gets around the bureau that I'm an easy

lay, I'll know who to blame."

     "Nothing easy about it," he deadpanned. "It took three years."

     She laughed and gave him a kiss for his cleverness.

     He watched her do up her buttons and tuck in her blouse. She

lifted her weight and swung away from him as calmly as if she was

dismounting a horse. Smoothing down her skirt and then her hair,

she stepped into her shoes... and there she was... Agent Dana

Scully again. Tidy and businesslike. He was the only one who would

know that her underpants were soaking wet. Amazing. He was sure he

looked like he felt... like he had been run over by a Mack Truck.

     Her eyes twinkled at him as she leaned down and took hold of

his penis. "I suggest you put this disgustingly limp and sticky

object away. You may frighten the passers by, and then I would be

forced to arrest you." She kissed him again as she gave his balls

one last affectionate stroke.

     "Yes, Ma'am, Agent Scully, Ma'am!" He stood up and pulled

himself back together. She put her fingers into her mouth as she

watched him tuck and zip and buckle. It took him a moment to

realize that she was licking his semen off them. The first flicker

of new arousal went through him. He held her eyes as he put his

hand up to his face and smelled the fingers that had been inside

her, then deliberately put them into his own mouth.

     She smiled a slow, lazy smile around her fingers. "But let's

eat first." The butterflies were gone from her stomach. She was

starving.

     There was just one more hot wing. Mulder offered it to

Scully. When she shook her head he bit into it happily. "I can't

agree with you, Scully. Val Kilmer made a much better Batman. He

had more presence than Michael Keaton. Keaton was like a kid

trying to fill an adult's shoes. He should stick to comedies."

     "I'd rather watch Michael Keaton any day. Those deep blue

eyes and that pouting mouth under the black batmask." She

wrinkled her nose. "Val Kilmer's a cold fish."

      "That's fine if all you're interested in is sex appeal. I'm

talking about their skill as actors. Whether they suit the

dramatic role or not." He tossed the bones into the empty

container and crumpled it up for the garbage. "Frankly, you

surprise me, Scully. I never would have thought that you would be

more interested in how an actor looks than how well he acts."

     "Oh, fiddle, Mulder. We're talking movies for the masses,

not Shakespeare. Movies are made to entertain, and watching

Michael Keaton definitely entertains me." She was crunching her

way through the second apple.

     Mulder grinned at her. He didn't think he had ever enjoyed a

conversation with Scully this much before. There was something

about the fact that they had already made love that liberated

them to say whatever was on their minds. It was because there was

no longer an unspoken conversation going on beneath the surface

all the time, creating tension. They had made their choice,

burned their bridges, and were content with their bargain. Now

they were free to get on with the business of getting to know

each other better.

     Scully cleared away the remains of dinner, while Mulder made

coffee. "Would you like a liqueur with your coffee, Scully? I've

got Benedictine and Cointreau."

     "Cointreau, please." She watched him take two delicate

glasses with two inch stems out of a cabinet. They were not tulip

shaped but more like miniature brandy snifters, with a graceful

pattern cut into them. "Those are lovely, Mulder. Where did you

get them?"

     "They've been in my family for years. These two are all

that's left of a set of eight... a wedding present to my maternal

grandparents. They would normally have been passed down to

Samantha, but I get them by default." A look of sadness briefly

clouded his face. He passed Scully the glass full of colourless

liquid. His own was full of light amber. "They are only used for

special occasions or special guests. Tonight we have both." He

held up his glass to her and they clinked them very gently

together. The toast was unspoken.

     The fiery liquid brought tears to Scully's eyes. "Whoof! I'd

forgotten what a punch this stuff has. Makes Bailey's seem like

Kindergarten fare."

     "Yeah. You know, it bothers me... the trend towards making

alcoholic beverages smooth and sweet. Coolers, spritzers, creamy

liqueurs. It makes alcohol consumption too easy and pleasant...

like drinking pop. Used to be you had to have some determination

and stamina to become a drunk."

     Scully gave him a look as she picked up her mug of coffee

and headed out to the living room. "Let's catch the TV news,

Mulder."

     They sat on the couch, close, but not touching. The newscast

was half over before it occurred to Mulder that he was sitting

beside the beautiful and sexy woman who used to drive him crazy

if she sat this close to him, and he wasn't even thinking about

her. Making love before dinner had taken the edge off his sexual

appetite, and knowing that he could touch her if he wanted to,

meant that she was no longer forbidden fruit. He put his arm

around her. She flashed him a smile and leaned on him, but didn't

take her attention away from the news. God, he thought, they were

acting like old married folk! Well, if this was what it was like

to be happily married, then it wasn't so bad. He felt so relaxed

and comfortable. The young folks could have all that anxiety and

pain. It was good to sit beside Scully, feeling secure in her

love and knowing that she would be sleeping with him tonight.

     No longer interested in the news, he ran his free hand

across the gentle curve of her belly. Now he had her attention.

     "What do you think you're doing, Mulder?" Her voice was

soft.

     "Groping you, woman. Haven't you ever been groped before?"

     "Not since college." She put aside her empty coffee mug and

turned towards him, drawing one leg up onto his lap. "Don't let

me stop you."

     He ran his hand up her leg, across the full womanly hip and

down to cradle her bottom. She was busily pulling his shirt out

of his pants. "I'm not sure, but I think groping is done on the

outside of the clothes, Scully. If it's done on the inside of the

clothes it's called `feeling someone up'."

     "Hmm. You may be right about that. I'm sure you've had more

experience in this area than I have." She ran her hand up under

his shirt. The crispy hair on his chest tickled her palm. It felt

good out of all proportion to logical expectations. Greedily, she

rubbed her hand over it again. "So this would be `feeling up'?"

     "Yeah." He lifted his hand and returned it to the hem of her

skirt. "But I think, usually, it's the guy who feels up the

girl." Slowly and deliberately he slid his hand along the same

route, this time under her skirt. The heat of his hand where it

came to a stop, burned through the thin fabric of her panties.

     "Oh. You mean I'm supposed to make do with groping?" Her

lower lip came out as she frowned. She slid her hand across the

front of his pants and took a firm handful of the contents

through the fabric. "Doesn't seem fair, somehow. Groping's nice,

but feeling up is better."

     "Can't argue with that." He kissed the top of her head. She

turned her face up towards him and he kissed her mouth, his

fingers tightening on her bottom as he responded to the

biochemical messages in her saliva. She felt him growing firmer

under her hand and her back arched, just a little, in response.

He started to pull her panties down.

     "Mulder." She tried to break away from his kiss, but found

herself drawn back to his mouth for more. "Mulder... hang on a

sec." She put her hand over his lips to stop herself from kissing

him again. "I'd like to shower first. Okay?"

     His tongue was forcing its way out between her fingers. It

tickled so much that she shivered and had to remove her hand. She

tried to push herself away from him but had to stop to extricate

his hand from her undies. Laughing she said, "I won't take

long... promise."

     Mulder was left sitting on the couch, looking lonely. Scully

stuck her head back around the doorframe and gave him her

megawatt smile. "You can join me if you want."

     They stood facing each other in the little bathroom as it

filled with steam. Slowly they undressed, each watching the

other. She was peaches and cream, dusted with pale freckles. Firm

curves put together economically in a neat, but decidedly

feminine figure. He was all arms and legs, tanned and furry, like

a friendly, brown, tropical spider.

     They stepped into the tub and came together under the warm

rain of the shower, standing for a time just enjoying being skin

to skin at last. After a while she picked up the bar of soap and

worked up a lather. Putting the soap in his hands she reached up

to spread the lather over his face and neck, stroking and

caressing every curve and crease with the sensuous, slippery

cream. Behind his ears and in his ears, under his chin, over his

mouth and eyes. Then she turned him into the falling water to

rinse clean. She went to take the soap from him again, but he

kept it until he had worked up a handful of lather of his own.

Then he washed her face and neck with the same thorough

gentleness. They slowly worked their way down, taking turns.

Neither spoke a word, their minds completely absorbed by this

ritual cleansing. Taking possession of each other's bodies by

touching everywhere with firm, caring strokes... hands slipping

in and out of private places... not to arouse, but just to learn

about each other. Finally, they soaped each other's feet, giving

every toe it's share of attention. Filled with peace, feeling

good all over, knowing each other a little better... they hugged

again and let the gentle water wash over them.

     Scully was almost lost in the huge fluffy towel Mulder

handed her. When she wrapped it around herself it came to below

her knees. He held out his hand to lead her into his bedroom. She

took his hand, but held back. "Would it be okay if I took a

couple of minutes to blow-dry my hair? I hate going to bed with

soaking wet hair."

     He pulled her against him and kissed her lips softly. "Don't

be too long."

     "I won't."

     She worked quickly, but the small blower that Mulder had

wasn't as powerful as the one back at Scully's apartment. She

finally settled for damp. She hung her towel over the shower rail

and padded out to find Mulder.

     She had never been in his bedroom when he was in it. She had

only wandered in out of curiosity once or twice when she had been

by to feed his fish. Most of Mulder's living took place in the

main room of the apartment and that was where his personality was

strongly evident. The bedroom was rather sterile. The big bed was

quite new, with expensive coordinated bedding in a tasteful

masculine colour scheme. Scully was pretty sure that Mulder's

mother had bought it for him, and that he seldom used it. He had

tossed the Duvet aside and pulled back the top sheet to lie down.

Scully leaned over him, her breasts silhouetted against the

light. "Mulder?"

     He was curled up on his side, naked and innocent looking as

a child. She knelt down to study him. Straight damp hair falling

over his forehead. Short dark lashes resting against smooth

unlined cheeks. Softly sculptured lips. He looked so young. She

was reminded of Peter Pan. She thought that Mulder was one of

those men who would never really be fully grown up. If it wasn't

for the dark stubbly growth of his beard one would have a hard

time guessing his age. He slept with one curled hand held close

to his face, and Scully was suddenly sure that he had secretly

sucked his thumb until an advanced age. She loved him dearly. She

wished that it was in her power to repair the damage of the past,

or grant him his heart's desire and bring his sister back to him.

But she couldn't. All she could do was support him and try to

keep him out of trouble... and love him.

     She pulled the sheet up and threw the Duvet back on the bed.

She took a quick tour of the apartment, turning out lights,

turning down the heat, and came softly back to his bed, a small

white and pink ghost in the dim light from the street.

     Snuggling into the covers she moved closer to him until her

back and bum were in warm contact with his back and bum. She gave

a deep sigh of contentment and let sleep overtake her.



++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



END OF STORY



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