From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: Sat, 18 Dec 1999 22:55:51 -0600 Subject: At the Stars by whatsupdoc Source: direct Reply To: whatsupdoc1@hotmail.com Title: At the Stars Author: Whatsupdoc (whatsupdoc1@hotmail.com) Classification:MSR Rating: R Disclaimer: They're not mine. Spoilers: through the current season Feedback: Hey, I don't know really what I'm doing. Firsts are never easy. Kind words are much appreciated. Summary: A special day in the life . . . . [No, really this is how everyone should spend their day off, poking around the kidneys of one Juliet Bore,. .strike that, Borr. .] Clad in well worn scrubs, Scully's internal monologue was competing for full attention with her autopsy dictation. "After removing the copious amounts of ascites from the abdomen, inspection of the kidneys reveal multiple large cortical cysts, each measuring at least 3 cm in siz...Shit!" The soft spray of pink cystic fluid across the entire front of Scully's person was enough to silence the dictation, allowing the inner voice to rage with full fury. [12 AM in the county morgue, doing a <> for Mulder! First of all, I'm a blooming idiot to say yes; secondly, he sucker-punched me by actually buying dinner. All this before, ] While changing scrubs, Scully realized that her cotton bra had shown great absorbency for aforementioned pink fluid and tossed the offending garment. [He'd damn well pay for that, no better yet, I'll upgrade on his charge account. Not like he'd care anyway. Inconsiderate, selfish, driven, obsessive, seed-sucking wise ass!] Amidst the muttering and swearing (with due homage to sailors everywhere) a small card and a yellow rectangle rested among her clothes. A package of Starbursts. Nothing like thoughtfulness to squelch a fine head of raging steam. ============ Chrrk. . . . Pttew. . . . Chrrk. . . .Pttew Almost out of seeds and with the radio at dull drone, Mulder sat in the car staring at the two street lamps before him and contemplating his so-called life. He thought himself a ridiculous loser. A unloved son, a failure of a brother, a wisecracking workaholic with only fish to go home to at night. If he got home at all. . . . [A search for truth, every itch gets scratched. There's truth in the perpetual itch-scratch cycle.] He had been scratching for so long; there were raw areas and scars covering his psyche. How could anyone love or want such a self-mutilating compulsive fool, conveniently disguised as a well-educated professional who should know better? Yet amazingly enough, the person whom he saw almost every day, in the wee hours of the morning, under duress, and during the insanity of sleeplessness, did not tire of him or view him in disgust, but accepted him. Scully was his salve. "Wonder if there would be a market for Scully Balm?" Regardless, it would be an economic bust, since he would buy out all available stock. Chrrk. . . . Pttew. . . . Chrrk. . . .Pttew. . [Whoo, I know this song.] "IT'S THREE O'CLOCK WE'RE DRIVING IN YOUR CAR, YOU'RE SCREAMING OUT THE WINDOW AT THE STARS, BLAME US 'CAUSE WE ARE WHO WE ARE. HATE US 'CAUSE YOU'LL NEVER GET THAT FAR. AND WHO'D SUPPOSE YOU WOULD GO? .....EEEEk!" At that moment he had turned, right smack dab into a very smirky Scully at the window. "Hey, Caruso! Open the door." "Scully, you're done. . . . How was the diving expedition?" "Don't think I'm going to forget that bounty of beautiful blackmailable bellowing. Oh, no X-file here. Mrs. Borr was an unfortunate woman who had the rare combination of nephrotic syndrome, a failing heart, and bad allergies." "Bad allergies? Doctor, excuse me, Mrs. Borr gurgled herself into her next existence, not scratched herself to death." "Mulder, given her borderline heart failure leading to a history of pulmonary edema, in addition to extravascular fluid shifts secondary to excess renal protein excretion, plus an allergic respiratory hypersecretion secondary to bad kiwis, her poor alveoli couldn't handle all that liquid. Her medical history confirms latex allergy, history of CHF, and long term history of significant proteinuria. What we have here is not an X-file, but someone with incredibly bad luck." As she spewed forth this fountain of information, she couldn't help notice his moist lips, as well as the distinctive pile of sunflower seed shells all over his lap. "Hmmm. Seems to me you've invoked luck before. . . Cold?" [Don't think I didn't catch the lack o' bra thing going on here.] "My face is up here, Mulder. No, I'm fine. Since we're lingering over the issue, you owe me lingerie. A bra to be exact." "Why Scully, have we progressed in our relationship that I should be picking out sexy underthings for you?" "Foundation garments, thank you. Cyst fluid from Mrs. Borr's kidneys saturated my top, including my bra. I had to throw it out. So your credit card and I have a date at Victoria's Secret tomorrow." "First of all, couldn't you have just washed it? Second, may I chaperone you and my American Express card?" [No bra, no bra, no bra, no bra, no bra. . . . ] "Stop being so cheap, motels are one thing, underwear's another. Just let me put it this way, suppose your boxers got soaked with dead people juice and you had to sit in them for an hour afterward. Appealing, isn't it?" "Okay, okay. Is that the scientific term? Dead people juice?" [No bra, no bra, no bra, no bra, no bra. . . . ] "Shut up and drive." ================ After an hour drive and an hour of the no bra mantra, Mulder pulled up in front of Scully's building. "Hey, I'm sorry about the goose chase. And buy whatever foundation garment you want, it's on me." Scully arched the brow. "Cross-dressing now are we, Mulder? Those certain videos aren't enough?" "YOU know what I mean. I realize that we don't have much free time because of work and that free time away from me is rare. Here I am to usurp all that precious time by dragging you all over, to deprive you further of privacy and peace. I'm sorry." "It's 2:00 a.m. I'm tired and I do treasure my downtime. Remember though, I did willingly agree to help you, albeit while in a postprandial coma. If you think my following you around doing random autopsies is my idea of a fun night, then psychologist heal thyself. But if you understand that my accompanying you on these jaunts entertains me and allows me to enjoy your company without the pressure of THE FBI, then Oxford might have taught you a thing or two. Just because privacy and peace are precious to me, doesn't mean loneliness is. So that said,come up and either get a cup of coffee before you drive home or, if you want, grab my couch for a nap." Mulder froze for a moment. The realization that his Scully, his partner, actually wanted to spend non-working hours with him was overwhelming. Either that or his fatigue was getting to him because he swore the last line he heard was. . ========== Mulder was grateful to Scully for so many things: understanding, compassion, tolerance, saving his ass more times than he could count. But right now, post-shower, as he nestled into her couch, he gave thanks to her for flannel sheets and a Downy- fresh cotton blanket. March in the D.C. area could be any temperature that Heat Miser or Jack Frost willed it, depending on who was winning the feud at any given time. Warm and toasty, Mulder was close to REM sleep, when a sudden "OOMPH" grazed his ear. And out of his couch he sprang to see what was the matter, When he spied Scully, he laughed like the Mad Hatter. What came to mind, "Help, I fallen and I can't get up." Silken PJs and red hair on the floor, by her hand a cup, "Mulder, shut up! I couldn't sleep and wanted more drink, I tried to tiptoe to keep quiet as I saw your last blink. But while trying so valiantly not to wake you, I apparently tripped over my black three-inch heeled shoe." "No, sorry. Are you all right, Scully?" As he knelt beside her, he helped her sit up and inspected her lower extremities. And inspected her lower extremities, and inspected her. . . "Mulder, I only have two legs, two ankles, and two feet. All of them are fine, as you may have noted on the first pass. Go back to sleep. I'll just make some chamomile tea and I'll be fine." "Here, you go back to bed and I'll make you tea and serve you in bed. It's the least I can do after guffawing at your fall." "Agreed." [, I like the sound of that.] =============== With Scully in bed, and Mulder on the ottoman nearby, both sat in companionable silence as they drank their tea. Both simultaneously recognizing how inane their situation was: two people who mutually respected each other, working side by side day in and day out, who went out of each other's way to spend time with the other, sitting sipping tea at 3:45am on a Sunday morning, pointedly not confessing emotional truths to each other. As Mulder finished his tea, he reached for her empty cup and turned to leave the room, when Scully cleared her throat and intervened. "Wait. . . ., I meant what I said about loneliness and enjoying your company. Would you stay in here with me tonight?" Mulder froze for the second time within hours. [I must be delirious. ] "Why?" [Stupid. Stupid. Duh, why not!] With downcast eyes and the flush of embarrassed rejection, Scully held her tongue and turned off the light. "Good night, Mulder." As he stood in the dark, with two cups in his hands, and the woman he loved more than life itself misunderstanding him nary three feet away, the pangs of regret began to gnaw at him. The same pangs that flared every time he thought of her tattoo, every time he ditched her, every time she was injured, every time a small child caught her eye. . . [I'm a fucking idiot. This woman is my best friend, the owner of my heart, and I can't say one right thing to her to make her feel as special as she truly is. Get to work, asshole.] He quietly placed the cups on the dresser and returned to the opposite side of the current bed occupant. Easing in her bed [more flannel sheets, God I love this woman], he turned to face her. "Still here, huh." Words spoken with cool detachment. The Great Wall of Scully had been damaged over the years, but there were still fortified sections available for use. "Would you believe I was trying to spell the word ? No, huh? Look Scully, I admit to being overwhelmed by your actions. Let's just say that you don't have many precedents of overly demonstrative behavior. It's been seven years of back and forth, here and there. Yes, I trust you, you trust me. You're my best friend, I'm yours. For heaven's sake, we must love each other to go through the shit that we do and still be here together, right? So why now? And just 'cause I ask the question does not mean I reject the overture." Scully sighed and pursed her lips tight. "You know Mrs. Borr worked for 35 years as a nurse. She and her husband never had kids, but they had been together for 30 years. He was a pharmacist at the hospital. His statement reflected the love he felt for this woman and the living he had done with her; he was convinced she was in a better place and hoped his loving memories would sustain him. It made me think. I deal with death all the time, Mulder. We both do, but I stick my hands in and muck around in it. God knows, I'm always dressed for unexpected emergency funerals." She continued with her eyes closed, but kept one hand clasped in his. "Whether or not there are such things as past and future lives, I want happiness now! Has fighting the good fight precluded us from any semblance of joy? You know, we could have been killed off from day one together and it could still happen now or anytime in the future. For once,I'd like to have a life. MY OWN LIFE, not a case, not a paranormal witch hunt, just me and you being with each other before it's too late. Good enough of an answer?" She opened her eyes as Mulder nodded and made the universal "no words" motion, turning the imaginary key over his mouth. That same mouth proceeded to meet its mate in a passionate bruising kiss, followed by a soft sweet one, followed by a long lingering one, followed by a slow seductive one, etc, etc. While lips joined, hands meandered across planes, hills, and valleys. . . covered with silk and cotton. As articles of clothing hurriedly left the confines of the bed, the two pursued further explorations. His hands hefted the weight of her breasts, followed by the nuzzling of his face between the two mounds. The tip of each peak was dutifully worshipped and laved with love. Her moans were almost catches of soft breath that excited him to no end. He then reached the expanse of her smooth abdomen, a topography marked by injury in the line of duty. He paid due tribute to that as well. She caressed him as he explored. Rubbing his neck, kneading his back, kissing the top of his head, all very natural actions on her part. Her sudden intake of breath declared that her explorer had dove in head first into the molten folds of her sex. His lingual dexterity was extraordinary, sweeping back and forth, plunging deep, swirling up top, probing gently. She was caught off guard, stilled by the enormous rush that arose within her, causing her to draw out his name for a full ten seconds. The vision of her climax thrilled him. [This is what happy feels like.] He would transfer the facets of his addictive personality towards recreating this scene for the rest of his life. With a kiss, he positioned himself, to be engulfed by her warmth. He knew his heart was racing from the throbbing of his arousal. His sigh signified their ultimate joining. Moving together two as a whole,their bodies finally replicated their day to day existence, working in sync, but this surely was far better than any kind of work he'd ever known. Rocking. . . thrusting. . . lifting/ she met him stroke per stroke, her blue eyes focused on his hazel ones. Her warm tremor and moan triggered his explosion of bliss, coupled with garbled words that merged Scully and some deity as one. "I love you." Said simultaneously as the two regrouped in Scully's fine flannel sheets. ============== As Scully was nearing unconsciousness, she heard Mulder singing in her ear. . . "Could it be we've done something wrong, Make it back to your place before dawn, Please don't drive me home. .. ." "No, we've finally done something right. And I'm not driving you anywhere at this hour. Rest." "Scully, are we still going foundation garment shopping today?" "That would be shopping for sexy underthings. Yes." "Scully?" "What?" "Do you have any red Starbursts left?" "Mulder, shut up and sleep. END Notes: The song, AT THE STARS, is by Better than Ezra. CHF--congestive heart disease. Kiwis, chestnuts, and celery can induce an allergic response in those allergic to latex.