TITLE: JITTERBUG PERFUME 1 - NIGHTCLUB JITTERS AUTHOR: DASHA K. E-MAIL: dashak@aol.com Summary: An impromptu visit to a dance club teaches Mulder a few new things about Scully. Basically your mother's worst nightmare: angst, booze, bad language, techno music, smoking, lesbians in high heels, smut, tight t- shirts, slash and even some love thrown in for the heck of it. Classification: SRA Keywords: Scully/other, MSR, Slash Rating: NC-17 Spoilers: Nothing major Disclaimer: Don't own them, if I did the show would be much smuttier. I gleefully stole the title from a song from the fabulous, if defunct, Replacements. Notes: Yep, I have heard the call of the Dark Side (Te warned me, but I did not listen) and I'm jumping into the cool, crisp waters of Lake Slash. However, I'm an equal- opportunity smutstress and the way I see it, poor Scully never gets enough of that kind of action. So, there will be no Krycek in chaps and nipple rings today, no sir. But have no fear, fellow Shippers! Keep the children away from this one. It may stunt their growth. Did I mention there was angst involved? Oh good. This one is for Red Valerian, who was particularly encouraging to me when I was down. Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx I walk into my apartment, throw my stuff on the floor and head straight for the couch. It's been one long, shitty day. First I ran out of gas on the way to work. Then I couldn't find the file I needed for a debriefing and Skinner reamed me afterwards. My hamburger was overcooked at lunch and the waitress was surly. The air conditioning broke down in the office and it turned into a Turkish bathhouse. And Scully, what was her deal today? She was distant and cool and the minute 5:00 rolled around she was out of the office like a shot, with barely a goodbye thrown over her shoulder. Thank God I'm home. It's Friday night and my time is my own. That's the problem, though. What to do, what to do? Normally I'd be playing poker with the Gunmen, but they're at a conspiracy theorist convention in Arkansas. It's kind of pathetic that they're my only friends. And Scully, of course. Out of desperation I call her to see if she wants to catch a movie or something, but she briskly tells me she's on her way out to have dinner with her mother. Figures. It's just you and me, kid, I tell myself. There are always movies. I have Seven Samurai rented and there are always other, more `interesting' movies in my possession. But these days, I really feel like a pervert watching my movies. It's not enough. Not anymore. I need the real thing. A singles bar tonight? Nah, pickups just plain suck. Sex with a stranger, no thanks. I want the real deal, living and breathing in my arms. I want her. I think I've always wanted her. Shit. Stretching out on the couch, I manage to drift off into a fitful nap. It actually feels pretty good, until I sit bolt upright and realize that this morning I left a load of clothes in the dryer downstairs. Damn, now I have to trek down there and just hope one of my thieving neighbors hasn't taken possession of my boxer shorts and socks. Getting up with a sigh, I look at the clock and realize it's almost 10 pm, much later than I had expected. Good, I rarely get enough sleep. As usual, the basement smells like a combination of rat droppings and dry rot. One of these days I'm going to have to take the initiative and find a better place to live. The laundry room is a cheerless little room festooned with giant pairs of drying women's underpants, mostly likely belonging to old Mrs. Kirchner on the 3rd floor. I am loading my thankfully not-stolen clothes into the basket when the door opens with a thud. "Well if it isn't our resident G-Man!" I hear a voice behind me say. Turning around, I see Alison, my neighbor across the hall. She's a tall woman with short black hair, many earrings and a perpetually bemused face. A couple of times I've watched the basketball game with her and her girlfriend, Jacie. They are even more rabid Knicks fans than I am. "Heya, Ali, what's up?" She grabs some clothes out of the washer and shoves them into the dryer. "Just finishing up some loads and them Jacie and I are out of here. Going dancing." "Sounds like fun." I say dryly and pick up my basket. "Where's G-Woman tonight?" Alison asks. She and Jacie love to give me all manner of shit about Scully, how we spend so much time together, yet we're not a couple. "Dinner with her mother." "Aww, poor lonely man." She smiles, "Why don't you come out with us? Raise a little hell for once." I raise my eyebrow. "To a gay club?" Alison laughs. "Afraid of the big, bad, wolf? A big, strapping FBI man such as yourself? Have no fear, my child, we're going to Jitterbug Perfume. It's a spot mostly for the ladies, if you catch my drift." "Named after the Tom Robbins novel?" "Who knows?" She shrugs, "All I know is that the music's good, the drinks are strong and I want to do some serious dancing tonight. You dance?" Actually, I'm a pretty good dancer. At Oxford, Phoebe and I would often take the train into London and go to the clubs on the weekends. It's been a long time, though. "I think I forgot how." I say lamely. She grabs my arm. "Come on, Mulder. Let's do it." Somehow, I find myself agreeing. xxxx Jitterbug Perfume is housed it what was once a produce warehouse, in a decaying part of town. Walking into the club is like entering one of the circles of Dante's Inferno. I forgot how clubs are, jammed with bodies, smelling of beer, sweat, cigarette smoke and perfume. Jesus it's hot in here, glad I ditched my jacket in the car. Alison's freckled face breaks into a delighted smile. "Home, sweet home!" she shouts over the music. Jacie, a small woman with a mop of unruly blonde hair, grabs for my hand. "Come on boy, let's dance!" She drags this reluctant federal agent onto the dance floor. The dance floor is gigantic, in fitting with the cavernous spaces of this club. The ceiling rises several stories above us, a network of metal beams and flashing lights. Bodies of all sizes, shapes and predilections sway around us, lost in the incessant beat of the music. Women everywhere, flirting and preening for each other. I can feel the lust in the air, hovering with the dry ice and smoke. The music is techno, the kind of stuff I refer to as "Instant Aural Headache" but out here, dancing, the repetitive bleeps and bloops make sense. I have to admit, it feels good to move my body like this. The years may go by, clothes and music may change, but you really never forget how to dance. Over in the corner two women are kissing and I do my best not to stare, but some on, I'm a guy. On several raised platforms go-go girls in leather and rubber fetish-wear writhe to the music. I think I like it here. A couple of songs later, Alison, Jacie and I escape the steaming hot dance floor to get a drink. Alison decides to brave the mob scene at the bar. "What are you having, Mulder?" she asks. "Um, any kind of beer will be fine." Alison shakes her head. "Nope, you need something stronger, my friend." I stand back and watch women drinking, women smoking and talking and laughing and I feel like an alien put down on a strange planet to observe the customs of the natives. No one checks me out, I don't have to wonder which woman will most likely respond if I try to go up and talk to me. It's oddly comforting. There are some other guys here, of course. A muscular dude in a cropped tank top looks me up and down and raises his cup of beer to me in a salute. Okay, scratch the part about no one checking me out. I give him a polite smile and turn to Jacie. Jacie has noticed. She shoves me in the side. "You know, you could definitely get some action here tonight." I grimace. "You ever make it with a man?" She asks. "No, I haven't." "Ever wanted to?" I shake my head. "No." "How come?" I shrug. "I'm just not interested. I like women." Jacie bursts out laughing. "Well, you and me both!" Alison comes back with three unidentifiable drinks. I take a sip. It tastes like children's cough syrup and it's a strong motherfucker. "Alison, what in God's name is this?" "It's what you've always wanted, Agent Mulder." Jacie shouts, "A Slow Comfortable Screw!" The two women dissolve in helpless laughter. A slow, comfortable screw. I'd take that, but I would rather have it fast, wild, Scully's skin against mine, her face flushed, my hands on her breasts as I thrust into her so hard she- Jesus, I scream inwardly at myself, can't you quit thinking about her for even a second? The pathetic part is I can't. Jacie asks me, "Hey, you want to shoot some pool?" I nod and follow my two guides up a crowded staircase. Upstairs it is a bit quieter and less frantic than the lower floor. There is a slightly older crowd up here, mostly women in their thirties and forties, as opposed to the MTV generation downstairs. Women in tank tops and tattoos play determined looking games of pool. There are also some dartboards, comfortable chairs and tables and another bar. A railing overlooks the crush of dancing bodies below, disjointed in the flash of strobe lights. Alison and Jacie each beat the snot out of me in pool. I've got to get them together with Frohike, who fancies himself the next Minnesota Fats. These girls will humble the little man in a big way. They next play each other and I wander off to the bar, order myself a shot of Cuervo. In one gulp I down the shot and do my manly best to not make a face. The bartender tries her hardest not to laugh at my facial contortions and hands me a wedge of lime with a smile. Gratefully, I suck the bittersweet juice and wonder what Scully's mouth would taste like after drinking tequila. My mind runs on a continuous feedback loop. It all comes back to Dana Scully. At the railing I watch the dancers down below, thinking about what it would be like to dance with her, to drink and get sweaty together. Actually have fun. That's when I spot her, a woman who looks so much like Scully the hair on my arms stands up. It isn't her, of course. The Scully doppelganger dances with another woman who is equally small and has long, dark hair and bangs. Her back is to me, but her neat cap of hair flashes red under the disco lights. Arms around the brunette's neck, the redhead tips her head back and I swear I can hear her laughter from here, even above the thump thump of driving techno. Transfixed, I can't take my eyes off the Scully wannabe. She's wearing a skintight white t-shirt and black hip- huggers and that woman can seriously dance. Sinuously, she moves to the beat in perfect time and I have to bite my lower lip as I see her wrap one leg around her pretty partner and grind against her body. If only that were you and me. How long are Scully and I going to dance around the issue? There is something to be said for the slow burn of languorous looks and unspoken promises, but we're human. We have needs. We also have fear in spades. Still, I need Scully. Tonight. In a big way. Checking my watch, I wonder if she's home from her mother's yet. It's nearly midnight, she's probably already in bed. What would she do if I showed up unannounced? Christ, I'm afraid of her. A touch to my elbow brings me back to reality. I turn around to find Alison and Jacie. "Let's dance again." Alison says. We wend our way back down the stairs and that is when I see them. I stop at the landing, frozen in place. The redhead and the brunette are now against a concrete support pole, kissing the hell out each other. The brunette has her back to the pole and the redhead is leaning in the vee of her bluejeaned legs. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I find it unbearably arousing to see a woman who looks so much like Scully kissing another woman. The brunette's hands caress the other woman's flaming red hair, run down her slender white arms, reach behind and push up the white t-shirt and- My breath stops. Complete cardiovascular shutdown. The brunette's hands reach behind and push up the white t- shirt to reveal a tattoo on the small of the back of the woman with red hair. A snake eating its own tail. Scully. It is Scully. The woman shift position slightly and I can now see the redhead's profile- the high cheekbone, the line of her jaw, the aquiline nose. She plunges her tongue into the brunette's waiting mouth, her hand creeping up the other woman's shirt. It is Scully. Jacie tugs at my sleeve. "Mulder, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." I point my finger to the kissing pair. Jacie looks and gasps, "Oh my God, your partner." I can't move. She puts her arm around me. "You didn't know this until now?" I can hear the pity in her voice. I shake my head. I have to get the hell out of this place. Shaking myself loose from Jacie, I run down the stairs and push my way through the throng. Then I feel something in the back of my neck, a burning sensation. Her eyes. I turn around and Scully is looking at me, her face a mixture of anger, surprise, horror, disgust and fear. Her mouth, rosy red and swollen from kissing, opens. Nearly running, I head for the exit and get myself out of the club. The cool air feels refreshing, but I barely notice as I run to my car. Thank you, higher power, for having me insist I take my own car tonight. It takes forever to unlock the door, my hands are shaking so badly. Inside the car, I rest my head on the steering wheel, only one thought running through my mind in disjointed bursts. Scully. Is. A. Lesbian. Scully. Lesbian. Or Bi. Or something. Not mine. My love. My life. My destiny. Or so I thought. I bang my head on the steering wheel, welcoming the pain it brings me. Better physical pain than this cutting mental anguish. A few good whacks to the head later, my brain feels able to operate with more lucidity. If I didn't love her, didn't want her so, I wouldn't care who she sleeps with. Really, I wouldn't. But I thought that in the end, she would be mine. No, I believed it with everything I am, I counted on that fact. Now there is nothing. Somewhere over the roar of blood in my head I hear a pounding sound. I lift my head from the wheel and see Scully standing at the window, the wind blowing her hair into her face. Her mascara has smudged under her eyes, but from crying, sweating or kissing I can't tell. "Open the window!" I hear her shout. I turn my head from her and stare straight ahead. "Mulder!" She screams, "Open the motherfucking window or I'll kick it in myself!" Knowing Scully, she'd make good on that threat. She's also wearing a wicked pair of chunky black heels, perfect for a good window-smashing. I unroll the window halfway but I won't look at her. Her voice is precise and clipped. "Did you follow me here tonight?" I shake my head. "Tell me the truth, did you follow me?" I'm frightened of the hard edge in her voice. This time, I look at her and I have never seen her beautiful face so tight and closed off. "No, " I say quietly, "It was a coincidence. I came here with my neighbors." Scully lets out her breath slowly. "Shit. Alison and Jacie." Running my hands through my hair, I desperately try to come up with something profound, wise and witty to defuse this situation, but nothing springs to mind. Instead, I start the car. "Mulder," She exclaims, "You can't leave now!" "I can't talk about this right now. I just can't." And I back out of the parking spot, leaving her standing alone in the lot, looking small and lost. End 1/2 xxxx Nightclub Jitters (2/2) By Dasha. dkluz@hotmail.com XXXXX All the way home I keep repeating to myself, like a mantra, it's okay, it's okay, you can deal with this, you'll get over this, Scully is what she is, you can't change her, she is what she is, you can stop loving her, you can just stop. The darkened and deserted streets pass by me in a blur, but the auto pilot in my brain manages to steer me home safely. Getting out of the car, it occurs to me that all this time, Scully has been lying to me. I think this is the thing that hurts the worst, nice chunky kosher salt in my wounds. The elevator is mysteriously out of order again, so I haul my body slowly up to the fourth floor. I've loved Scully for so long. It's not just the physical. If it were, I would have made my move a long time ago. It's everything about her- her smile, her razor-sharp intellect, the way she deftly spars with me, her odd bursts of humor. The trust we have developed over the years. The trust I thought we had. Now I'm not so sure. I let myself in and my apartment smells lonely, unloved, like dust and frozen dinners. It's not a home I have here, just a place to sleep and eat. In the kitchen I find an old bottle of Jack Daniel's under the sink with the cleaning products. Pouring a few inches into a Flintstones glass, I drink it like medicine. My teeth are chattering. Despite the fact that it's a warm April night, I'm shivering like mad. The shower. I need to get clean, get warm, wash the sweat and club grime off my body. Turning the water on as hot as I can bear, I strip off my smelly clothes and step in, letting the needles of heat pierce my skin. Sinking down, I crouch in the tub and bury my face in my hands. The tears come now, loud and wracking sobs as the water washes over my shivering skin. Just like that terrible day in Providence, only Scully won't come to rescue me this time. It's just me. Oh, stop it, I tell myself, but I can't. I have to let go of the rage and disappointment, let go of Dana Scully. I hope I'm strong enough for the job. Getting up, I wash myself and make a decent attempt at doing all the normal shower things. After crying, I just feel numb, like a blank page. Now I can't feel much of anything. I towel myself off, put on underwear, shorts and a t-shit, go lay on the couch. My refuge in times of trouble. The couch settles around me and I let the heaviness descend. No conscious thought is possible now. It's just dark and quiet here. Until I hear the scraping of a key in the lock. Damn her, can't she even knock? I hear her walking across the room and instantly know she's a little drunk. Not completely blotto, but tipsy enough that her feet are dragging a bit upon the floor as she makes her way over to the couch. That's how well I know Scully. She kneels by the couch and I feel her fingers brush against my cheek. "You awake?" she whispers. I don't say anything, just lie there with my eyes closed. Sighing, she says, "Come on Mulder, please talk to me." "What is there to say?" I won't turn my head. I don't want to see the perfect lines of her face. I don't want to love her like I do. But I do. That's the catch, see? Her soft hand lands of my ear, sending electric crackles down the side of my neck. "We need to talk about what you saw tonight at the club." Her voice is beseeching. "I didn't really see anything. Just you dancing, having a good time, kissing a-" I can't finish the sentence. She chuckles. "A woman, Mulder?" Glad she finds this so amusing. "Yes." She increases the pressure of her strokes on my ear and I begin to squirm. No, I won't get hard, it won't happen, it can't, not right now. But I do. "Scully, I thought I knew you." I finally say. "You do know me, better than anyone in the world." "Then, why keep this a secret?" A long pause and she withdraws her hand. "Mulder, don't you get lonely? Don't you ever just lie in bed, craving the touch of a human hand on you? The warmth of another body next to you." It's my turn to laugh a bit. "You have no idea. Constantly." Scully reaches up and flicks on the desk lamp. My eyes involuntarily shut from the assault of the brightness. I turn my head and look at her. She has gone home and changed into a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt and has obviously showered because her hair is in the unruly mass of waves I rarely get to see. Without makeup she looks about twenty years old, dewy and innocent as a Homecoming Queen. Crossing her legs, Scully sits across from me on the floor. "Mulder," she says, after a silent and tense minute has passed between us, "Why does this upset you so?" "I thought I knew you, but the fact that you're a, a lesbian, that's a big thing for you to keep from me." She absently fiddles with a strand of her hair. "Why do you think I'm a lesbian?" I roll my eyes. "The fact that I saw you swapping spit with another woman would lead me to that conclusion." Scully nods. "Aha, so the act of a woman kissing another woman automatically makes that woman a lesbian, correct?" "Not necessarily. Have you ever slept with a woman?" She doesn't flinch. "Yes, Mulder." "That's a pretty good indicator right there." "No, ask me this question. Could I ever fall in love and spend the rest of my life with another woman?" I parrot after her, "Could you ever fall in love and spend the rest of your life with another woman, Scully?" Her blue eyes, stark in her scrubbed face, look straight into mine. "No, I couldn't." I sit up to get a better look at her. "Then why sleep with women?" "Tell me this, is it wrong to do that?" She has the slight edge in her voice she reserves for questioning suspects. "Well, no, but-" "First of all, even though I feel I have no need to defend myself, I don't do this all the time. That club isn't a regular spot for me, but once in a while I just need to get out. Mulder, I've always done the right thing. Gotten straight A's, worked harder than anyone else, sacrificed for the future. But I've had to realize that I need to have fun- go dancing, drink a little, flirt, kiss someone, forget about the monsters that chase me, make love." I clear my throat. "So, why women?" "Women? Why not? When I'm in bed a hand is a hand, a mouth is a mouth. Pleasure is all the same, no matter the sex of my partner." She smiles a little. "And, it's safe. A woman won't date rape me, probably won't hurt me physically and most importantly, I won't fall in love." "You're afraid of love?" Scully looks down at the floor. "No, I'm not afraid, but I only have room for one love in my life." My heart stops beating. Seriously. "And who is that love?" I ask, scared of the answer. She stands up. "Mulder, I'm tired. Tired of having to explain myself to you as if I've overstayed my curfew. I want to go home and sleep." "Scully, don't leave." "My life is too complicated as it is." She grabs her keys off my desk. I jump up off the couch. "You're still drunk. You shouldn't have driven over here in the first place." She puts her hands on her hips and gives me what can only be described as the Scully Look of Death. "I can take care of myself." Grabbing the keys out of her hand, I put them in my own pocket. "No, I can't let you do this." She sighs sharply and flashes me a disgusted face. "Fine, then I'll call a cab." I sink back down on the couch, shaking my head. "Scully, why do you feel you have to hide from me? Don't you trust me anymore?" She whirls around. "God, don't you get it?" "Get what?" She confuses me. Her voice is small. "I'm afraid of you." I point to my own chest. "Of me? Why?" "I lied," she whispers, a few tears starting to trickle down her face. "What about?" She wipes her face with her hand. "About being afraid of love. I'm terrified of love." Just say it, Mulder. Be brave for once and ask her. It's not hard. "You're scared of loving me?" Another sigh. "Do we really have to discuss this right now?" "Scully, you came over here tonight. You wanted to talk. I'm here, I've got your car keys, so talk to me." She sits back down with resignation. "Okay, then answer my question, honestly this time. Why did it upset you so much to see me kiss a woman?" The truth will save us. God, I hope so. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I try again. "Because I always thought that if you wanted to be touched, wanted to be loved, it would be me." Her mouth turns up in a faint smile. "I thought that was it." There, I said it. God, I'm tired. All I want to do is snap off the light and fade away, but we have to finish this night, one way of the other. "It's okay that you don't want me, Scully." Her little face looks as smooth and unreadable as a block of marble. "I never said I didn't want you." "Then why go to someone else?" "I told you, it's easy. Pleasure and release without consequence. There is no tomorrow when I'm with someone else." She looks faintly exasperated. "It's tomorrow you fear?" Her eyes tell me her answer before she even opens her mouth. "Yes. Don't you?" I have to think about that one. I watch my few remaining goldfish happily swimming about the tank. If only my life were that simple. Eat, shit, swim. Just like cockroaches. But Scully is waiting for her answer. "I'm afraid of tomorrow, too." I finally say. She starts laughing. "What's so funny?" I demand. Scully lifts her head, still laughing. "You. Me. We're a messed-up pair!" Sadly, I have to agree. Then her face turns deadly serious. "Mulder, why have we let it get to this, where we love each other so, but we're so afraid?" Dana Scully is one brilliant woman, just cuts to the core, gets right to the viscera of the matter. All I can say is, "I don't know." I have no wondrous insights, especially at 3 am. Yawning, she says, "Mulder, I'm exhausted. Can I please have my keys?" I shake my head. "Come on, we're not going to come up with any big answers tonight." "You can stay here." Merriment flashes in her eyes. "Share that rickety couch with you? I don't think so." "Scully, I do have a bed, you know." I get up and walk into the bedroom and Scully follows me. I throw many, many crates of files and books on the floor and underneath is a perfectly serviceable double bed. "When was the last time you slept in that thing?" "I don't know, a year ago?" "And just when were those sheets last changed?" "Actually, I washed them three months ago, after my cousin Andy came to stay for that weekend, looking at colleges." She nods her head. "It'll do." Picky, my Scully. Or not my Scully. I haven't a clue. I kiss her on the top of her head. "Good night. If you need me, you know where I sleep." I turn around to go back into the living room. Until I hear her voice. "Mulder?" "Yes?" "Sleep with me tonight?" I turn back around, mouth open. "Excuse me?" "Sleep with me. Just sleep, nothing else. I want to feel you close." And that is as much as a declaration of love, and need, as I'm going to get from Scully. At least tonight. I nod my head. Shyly, we turn from each other to undress. I can feel her eyes on me as I walk to the bed, dressed only in my boxers. I don't know why her gaze unsettles me so, she's seen me like this hundreds of times. Hell, she's even seen me naked. It feels so intimate to slip under the covers and have her there too, only wearing her t-shirt and panties. Immediately, I feel her body heat radiating towards me. I don't touch her. Scully switches off the bedside lamp and lies back. We don't say anything, just lay there. Separately. This has to be enough, I tell myself. This is what she can give you right now. Her voice breaks up the heavy silence. "Mulder, do you ever think about me?" I freeze. "I think about you all the time." The pillow makes a rustling sound as she shakes her head, all the way on the other side of the bed. "No," she whispers, "Do you ever think about me in a sexual way? Do you lie on that couch at night and think about touching me, about your hands on my body?" Holy shit. Don't say these things, Scully, not if you don't mean them. She continues, "Do you shut your eyes and think about kissing me, my mouth against yours and-" I cut her off. "Stop it, Scully." "Why?" Her voice is husky. "Because you're drunk and confused and if you do this, say these words to me, the words are going to become action and we're going to do this and then tomorrow's going to come." A long silence. "I'm not drunk anymore." "You're still confused." "And you're not?" "I never said I wasn't confused." Another pause. "Mulder, we're at an impasse here." I sigh, "I know." "Just tell me you want me." Could she possibly play more mind games with me tonight? "I think you know I do." "Say it to me." I turn on my side to face her and now we are mere inches away from each other. "I want you, Scully. Does that make you happy?" She reaches out and brushes my lips with her index finger. No, no, don't touch me, but it's too late, just that faint touch and I'm getting hard. "I needed to hear that." She says. I laugh. "Good. Now get some sleep." Another pause. I'm going nuts here. "I want you, Mulder." I laugh again. "Good, I needed to hear that." "It's hard for me to say that," she says, her voice chokes, "I know that if we do this, it's forever." I can hear the fear she's feeling. "Yes, it is." I echo. "I want you, Mulder." She whispers. "God, I want you, too." My cock fills even more, strains to escape my boxers. "I'm such a chicken. Doing what's safe, what's right. Afraid to love you. But I do, and I don't know where to stop." I think I may cry, but I don't. I take her cool hand instead. "What if we just try to be afraid together?" I offer. Her voice cracks, "I've wanted you for so long, to feel you inside me, filling me, loving me." Our bodies come together, no space between us, but we don't move. I smooth her hair and just revel in the sensation of being close to her, smelling her, feeling her breathe against me. And they say all men want is to get laid. "Mulder?" She sounds amused. "Yes?" I whisper in her ear. "You've got a hard-on." She giggles. It's so rare to hear a full-blown giggle from this woman. I smile. "I'm very aware of that fact." "Just thought you might like to know I've noticed." "I'm delighted you noticed." "Have I ever made you hard before?" "Yes, Scully, a thousand times." A painfully long pause. "What were we doing, when you fantasized about us?" I just can't take this anymore. All I say is, "This." And I lean in to kiss her. Her mouth. My God. And then we are suddenly together, really together, a tangle of mouths and limbs and skin, slow and fast at once. Clothes are shed, our skin touches and it is pure electricity. My lips on her nipple, her tongue stroking my ear, my hand running up her satiny inner thigh to find her slick and hot. My fingers in my mouth, I taste her sweetness for the first time, as delicious as I had imagined as I lay on the couch, stroking myself to her image. And she spreads her legs and moans, Dana Scully moans for me as I bury my face in her and lose myself in her wetness. To make love to her is a form of worship. To hear her cries of pleasure is all the reward I need for all the years we have spent together, yet apart. And the scary part, the really get down and funky terrifying part is how absolutely right this feels. But still, I wonder, do they make her feel like this? Does she arch her back and moan for them? Do I feel like they do? Shut the hell up, I tell myself. She tugs me up and pulls me to her, grabs my penis and I slide in and oh, oh, control yourself, young man. I have to take a deep breath and rest for a minute because this is it, this is it, I'm inside her and she's tight and so wet and shit, I love this woman, I worship her and I move in and out of her, pushing her into the mattress and her legs reach up around my shoulders and squeeze me so tight- In the darkness I can see her eyes glittering, maybe with tears, maybe with desire, who knows but she kisses me, her tongue fucking my mouth just like I'm fucking her and she draws in all her breath and groans, "Ohhhhh, so goooood." And I feel her coming, convulsing against my body, contracting around me and I can stand this pleasure for only so long, but I'm in deep, deep inside Scully and then it builds for me too, I explode and cry out a stream of words straight from some unknown place in my brain, "So good, so much, God like that, like that, mine, mine, God Scully, love you so, so, so." And then I stop. And smile. She wraps her arms around me tighter and pushes my sweaty hair away from my brow. "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" I kiss her everywhere, tasting her sweat mingled with mine. The room smells like sex and I inhale deeply. So this is what Scully and I smell like together. "Still afraid of me?" I ask, and poke her gently in the side. "Yes, but I guess I'll have to learn to deal with it." I roll us onto our sides and regretfully withdraw from her. "You know I love you, right?" She kisses my shoulder. "I have never doubted it." "Then we'll just accept what tomorrow has to offer us." She nods gravely and kisses me again. I think tomorrow will be a much better day than today was. I have to. END