From: Nichole Date: Thu, 29 Dec 2005 00:07:08 -0800 (PST) Subject: submission Source: direct Title: The Differences Between Offices & Bedrooms Author: Nichole Rating: NC-17 Category: MSR, ANGST Spoilers: None, really. Summary: Begins a few years after the events of "Riding in Cars with Mulder", though it's not imperative that you read that one to understand this one. Moral of the story: what happens in the bedroom stays out of the office. Acknowledgements: To all of the wonderful fic writers to whom I owe every ounce of my gratitude for paving the way from the very beginning of the show: I love you all. I have enjoyed every sentence you've ever written. To my dearest friend and faithful cheerleader, Jamie: Love ya, chica! Thanks for always being there for me. This one's for you. Feedback: I would LOVE it! scoob4u@yahoo.com Homepage: http://www.geocities.com/scoob4u/Nicholes_FanFic.html ~*~ I love her. I know that now. Every thought I have is of her. She invades my dreams when I sleep. Her name is on my lips when I wake--she's everywhere. We used to be friends, but we're past that now. We're more than friends. I'm both excited and scared shitless. How am I supposed to talk to her when all I can think about is telling her how I feel and attacking her mouth with mine once more? It's really becoming quite a nuisance. The nervous energy that is built up inside of me gets spent on smartass remarks and tired jokes. I think that through my ill-spent efforts of seducing her, I just end up just pissing her off. But, there are times when I think she feels something for me; something physical. I've caught her looking a few times, and though she tries to blame it on doctor's assessments, there are things about a person's ass that even their proctologist doesn't notice. Maybe it's just my imagination... I do have a nice ass, though. I have to say that I am very proud of my ass. If Scully didn't check out my ass every once in a while, I'd be worried about her sexuality. Anyway, getting back to feelings... I've been walking around with this incredibly large lump in my throat lately. I have this sense of pride that I know something that no one else knows. I feel like the little kid who secretly smeared a booger on the doorknob. I feel great! No one knows that I feel this way but me. Well, and maybe Scully judging by the way she's grinning at me right now. "What're you grinning at?" I ask, putting my feet back on the office floor. "Nuthin'," she says, pushing her reading classes back up the bridge of her nose. I nod to the paper she's reading. "Anything of interest?" "Pheromones," she says in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. "Human pheromones." I can't resist. This could be a very interesting conversation. "I didn't think you were into that stuff, Scully," I say with a crooked eyebrow. "It's science, Mulder, why wouldn't I be?" she asks, peeking over the paper at me. "Well, it's not very mainstream science," I point out. She ignores me and reads on. The silence following is almost deafening. I try to read the file in front of me, but just as always, I begin to daydream. Scully is above me, no beneath me. No, wait...She's above me. Yeah! Her breasts are right in front of my face and I-- "So, Scully, pheromones?" I ask, nervously licking my lips. "Really?" "It's really quite an interesting read. Here," she gets up and hands me the magazine. "Not your usual preference," she adds with a smile, "but interesting, nonetheless." The corner of my mouth quirks as I take it from her. She whirls around and gets her jacket and slips it on. "Where are you goin'?" I ask. "I'm going up to get a coffee. I need some fresh air." "Oh," I say, sliding back in my chair. "Hey, Scully, could you--" "Yes, I will," she says, already one foot out the door. Damn, we do have an unspoken connection. The woman Definitely knows my stomach. Why does that turn me on so much? Human pheromones, huh? I can't resist reading the first paragraph, and the next, and the next... Out of all the scientific mumbo-jumbo, something catches my eye. Men emit a stronger amount of pheromones than women. They are secreted in sweat: particularly from the armpits. This is some kind of freaky-tiki. "Hey, they were out of the French roast, so I just... Mulder, what are you doing?" she stops dead in her tracks and stares at me while I sniff my armpits. I look up at her and put my arm down. "Scully, do you ever *smell* me?" She starts walking towards me again and puts my coffee on the desk. "Smell you?" she asks, walking to her chair. "Yeah. Do I have a particular odor?" "Mulder, pheromones are odorless chemicals." "Yeah, but have you ever noticed anything about the way I smell?" She giggles at me. Giggles! There's a sound I don't hear often enough! "What?" I ask, trying to stay oblivious. She likes it when I do that: it makes her feel superior. Deep down, my Scully is a control freak. I can only imagine what a hell cat she is in bed... "Sometimes you truly amaze me, Mulder." "Oh, gee, Scully, I was aiming for 'master of amazement' here. You just broke my feeble sense of self-assurance." She takes a sip of her coffee as she sits back down in her chair. "How long have we known each other now, Scully?" I ask, making her look up at me from her cup. I love seeing those eyes pay full attention to me. That's why I say the things I say to her. Her face slowly becomes serious. "A long time, Mulder. A long time." "And you've never even once noticed anything about the way I smell?" "When we're on a serious stakeout and you haven't showered for more than 48 hours..." "That's not what I'm talking about." Her beautiful, plump lips are in a straight line. Ooh, she's serious now. "I know." "Can I ask you a personal question?" I dare to ask. Since when did I grow balls and start talking like a man? "Sure." She takes a sip of her coffee. "Go ahead." "Have you ever... Thought. About me?" "All the time." She didn't even blink an eye. Damn. "No, I mean in a non-partnerly way. As something more." Her brow furrows, and I feel my stomach knot. Maybe I've gone to far with this one. "What do you mean?" she asks. "I think about you, Scully. I think about you all the time," I say in a nervous rush. "I think I'm, well..." "What, Mulder?" "I think I'm falling--for you." Silence. Oh no, I can't believe I just said that. Please, please, please, God don't let it be over like that. Why did I even say-- "I, uhm, I don't know quite how to react to that, Mulder." She swallows and leans forward in her chair. I watch her put the cup of coffee on the desk and secretly wish that I had never opened my mouth. "I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable in any way, Scully." "No, it's not that, it's just... It's just that I need to think very carefully on how to respond to that, Mulder." Oh. Shit. "Don't look so scared," she says with a grin. "It's not going to be that bad." I feel light-headed. "What if you gave me a day or so to think on this?" she asks. Somehow, I expected this moment to be a little different. "Sure." "Okay," she nods, and stands up again. "I think I'm gonna go ahead and go home early today. I'm a bit tired, and I could use some rest before we take off tomorrow morning." "Okay. Pick you up around seven?" I ask, watching her mill around for her purse. She doesn't meet my eyes. Shit. "Yeah, uhm, seven's fine." She finds her purse and makes her way to the door. "See you tomorrow morning." She leaves without looking at me. Shit, shit, shit! I've definitely screwed the pooch this time. I feel like crawling under a rock and dying. I think things will now officially be weird between us. Change is a good thing, is it not? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She's been in there forever. Surely there wasn't that big of a line to get into the ladies' room on this airplane. I toss aside my second empty bag of sunflower seeds and once again readjust myself in the uncomfortable seat. I look down at my watch. Twenty minutes. She's been in there for twenty minutes. We're gonna be landing soon, and Scully will still be on the pot. I stretch my legs as far as I can into what would be her leg space and take a swig of my bottled water. It's so damn hot on this flight for some reason... I can't get enough to drink. Finally, Scully returns and I withdraw my legs from her space with a groan. "Where you been, Scully? I was starting to get worried about you." She sits in her seat and straightens her skirt with a few tugs. My eyes follow her hands to her thighs as she smoothes the material over them. She finally settles back into her seat and swipes her hair behind her ear. I look at her, reinforcing my question. She stares back at me with at "What?" expression on her flushed face. "You're flushed, Scully," I say, raising my hand to briefly stroke her cheek. She avoids my eyes and presses the back of her head into her seat. "It's hot in here," she says, and I agree. "You never answered me, Scully. Where were you?" "Isn't that obvious?" she replies quickly, still not looking at me. Okay, be that way, I say to myself: effectively giving up on getting anything out of her. I sigh and lay my head back against my seat. She hasn't spoken more than two words to me all day. That's not like Scully. Damn my big mouth. She smells incredible. Her perfume has lost it's potency, and I can just barely smell her feminine musk--the scent that every woman has and for some damnable reason tries to cover up. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths through my nose and inhale her. "Mulder," she purrs, and I open my eyes. "Yeah?" I ask, rolling my head over to look at her. "I smell you," she says, looking at me with a playful grin dancing on her lips. My crotch instantly goes stiff. Did she really just say that, or am I dreaming? "You do?" I ask stupidly. She nods. Somebody pinch me. I clear my throat and lean over to whisper to her. "You sure you're not smelling Big Mike over here?" I ask, referring to the large man to my right. "No, it's you, Mulder," she whispers back, and I see quickly that the tables have turned. No longer am I the one in control. She may as well grab my dick and pull me around by it. I sink back into my chair and stare at her. Does she realize what she's doing, or are my senses just on overload? I lick my lips, trying to think of what to say next. She lays her head back against her the headrest and I sigh heavily. "Something wrong?" she asks, peeking through one heavy eyelid at me. "No," I answer quickly. She grins and closes her eye. I stare at the small indent just above her top lip. A small dew of sweat adorns her skin there, and I want so badly to reach out and lick it off with my tongue. I sigh and turn my head away. Best not to linger on thoughts of what could be. I just have to figure out how to make things be what they should between us without losing what I know Scully holds dear; her trust in me and our partnership. Maybe even my love, if she realizes she has it. ~~~~~ There are many things that a man wants to do with the love of his life, but standing in a morgue watching her cut open a cadaver isn't one of them. There are also many things that you want to hear coming out of your true love's mouth, but, "The internal organs are fully intact, though the epidermis shows signs of decay..." isn't one of them. I'm beginning to get sick. "Scully," I say from behind the surgical mask, "Do you mind if I just...?" "Go on, Mulder," she says, continuing her explorations of the overweight man's abdominal cavity. I turn on my heels and practically hurl myself through the swinging doors leading out to the hallway. Gasping for fresh air, I rip the mask from my face. I don't see how she does it; I really don't. She has a Navy brat's stomach, both at sea and while digging around inside half-decayed corpses. After cooling down and getting a drink from the nearby water fountain, I sit on a chair and wipe my brow. That surely can't be the smell that magazine was talking about. Damn. I see Scully coming towards me and I don't know whether to kiss the shit out of her for her bravery or hold my nose. Tough situation. "Mulder, are you okay?" she asks, genuinely concerned. "I'm fine, I say, wincing when I see that the surgical mask dangling on her chin has a smear of blood on it. "Look, why don't you go ahead and go back to the motel. I'll get a ride back from Dr. Samson." How did I know she was going to say that? Maybe it has something to do with the fact that Dr. Samson did all but shove her against the wall and fuck her when I last saw them together. He was scanning her entire body with his eyes, and I can't believe she didn't notice! Or maybe she did notice because she smiled at everything that came out of his perverse mouth and flipped her hair behind her ear like a flirty little school girl. "I don't think that's such a good idea," I protest, unable to help it. "Why not? He lives on the other side of town anyway." Surely she isn't that naive about that slimeball's intentions. "I'll just stay here and wait for you to finish in there," I say, nodding towards the morgue doors. "Have it your way, Mulder," she says, turning to walk back to her sanctuary of gore. I sigh and lean back in the uncomfortable folding chair. This could be a very long night. END PART ONE. CONTINUED IN PART TWO. PART TWO: "Mulder," I hear, faintlike in the distance. "Mulder." She's calling out my name--loving every single thing I'm doing to her makes her yell out my... "Mulder, wake up." I snap awake and realize that I'm sitting in a folding chair with Scully standing over me looking exhausted. "Mulder, come on. I'm finished." "Yeah, but I wasn't," I mutter under my breath as I stand. "What?" she asks, her hands on her face, wiping the corners of her eyes with her fingertips. "Nothing. You got your coat?" I ask, and she nods and gives me one of her "can't you see that for yourself, stupid?" looks. I give her an idiotic grin and begin to walk forward. "Dana," I hear a male voice say from somewhere behind me. Of course, I think sarcastically, it's Dr. Samson. "If you should need anything more, don't hesitate to call on me," he says in his too-perky-for-3am English accent. God, I want to choke him. She smiles at him and thanks him for the offer. "That's very kind of you." "If I can be of any assistance to the FBI, please do let me know," he directs to both of us. "Thanks, Fredrick," I say, annunciating his name clearly while putting my hand on Scully's lower back. I desperately try to usher her out and away from the dangerously handsome Brit. She gives into my pushy behavior and bids the prick, I mean the doctor, goodnight before turning to walk with me towards the door. We get outside and she turns to face me, blue eyes blazing. "What was all that about?" she inquires with just a hint of seething anger in her voice. "What?" I ask dumbly, continuing to walk toward the car. "That!" she points, "In there!" "It's late, Scully. You're tired, I'm tired. We're both tired. I was just trying to get us out of there so that we can get some sleep. The good doctor seemed to want to have a bit of a chat in there." "He was being courteous, Mulder," she argues, getting into the passenger seat next to me. "That's something that not many people are these days." I put the car into drive. "I'm courteous," I say, honking my horn at the idiot that pulled out in front of me. "Yeah," I hear her say under her breath. "Look, Scully, that guy gives me the creeps." "Oh, the creeps, huh?" "Yes, the creeps," I answer, changing lanes. "Mulder, you give me the creeps," she says, turning to look at something suddenly interesting out the window. "Oh, do I?" "Yes, you do." I turn on the signal to pull the car over and come to a stop on the side of the street. "Mulder, what are you doing?" "Scully, tell me what he has that I don't," I say, turning to face her in my seat, "And don't dare try to tell me the man smells better than I do because I won't buy it. He plays with dead bodies all day for Christ's sake!" She just looks at me. Fine time to become speechless, Agent Scully. "You think this is about sex, don't you?" she says, and I'm so shocked I pull back in my seat. "What do you mean, sex?" I ask. Wow, what an intelligent question. I think maybe I missed my calling to become a unic. "You think that I'm so desperate for sex that I'll just jump whatever male I come into close contact with?" Well, that would be lovely, Scully. Seeing as how I'm the one who's usually in close contact and I'm male. There's a thought... "You think that I don't recognize that you are of the opposite sex... That I don't notice your unique scent and eccentricities. That I don't know every thought that comes across your mind?" she continues. "Of course not, Scully. How would you know what I'm thinking?" I ask, my voice foreign to my own ears. Is it wrong of me to get sexually aroused whenever we argue? Her face goes into a grin. "Your expressions tell all, Mulder. I'm not stupid, and I've known you for going on seven years now." She's got a point. I just have to see where this goes... "Do you know how long it takes to know a person? I mean really know a person?" I ask and a puzzled look crosses her face. I love diverting her anger: it excites me. "A long time," she finally answers. "Exactly. Now, I don't know how you feel, but I feel like I know just about everything there is to know about you, Scully. I know what it means when you smooth your skirt over your thighs..." She cocks an eyebrow at me. "You're nervous," I answer, knowing that she'd ask. "When you bit your lip, you're thinking deep thoughts, when you smile you do it because you're happy, not because you feel obligated to. You're sincere with your emotions, but keep them hidden because you feel very vulnerable if they get uncovered." "Well, I think everyone is that way, Mulder. Even you." Don't turn this around at me, Scully. I hate it when she does this. "Yeah," I say, dropping my head, "I guess so." After a few minutes of silence, she says, "If it makes you feel any better, Mulder, Dr. Samson isn't my type." I look over at her. "Why not?" "Well," she says, straightening herself in the seat, looking ahead, "he is blonde, for one. Truly intelligent men are dark-headed..." "That is a judgment not entirely true," I argue weakly. "And for two," she continues, paying me no attention, "he called me Dana instead of Agent Scully." "What's that got to do with it?" I ask. This should be good. "I can't see myself with anyone who calls me Dana without getting to know me first. I'm used to Scully." She turns and gives me a knowing smile. I smile at her and turn on the ignition. We're gonna be okay, I think giddily to myself. Definitely okay. "So by all rights, I could start calling you Dana?" "Don't push it, Fox." I smile at her and my hand reaches out to brush against her cheek. "I love everything about you, Scully. Don't you know that?" I say softly, caressing her warm skin with the back of my hand. I'm completely lost with her. "Mulder," she says, stilling my hand with hers. She pulls my hand away from her face. "It's late. We both need to get some sleep before our trip home in the morning." I can't believe how much she's shrugging me off. Even at a time like this, she refuses to allow me to get close to her. Maybe she's not ready for all of this... I nod and turn in my seat to start the car again. "Yeah," is all I can bring myself to say. ~~~~~ My alarm clock goes off and I throw it across the room. "Shit!" I grunt, getting out of bed to see if I broke it. My phone rings and I stub my toe on the way over to get it. Great day this is shaping up to be. "Hello," I say, gritting my teeth and holding my throbbing toe. "What's wrong?" she asks. "I stubbed my damn toe on the bedpost," I whine loudly. I could almost swear I just heard a snicker. "Is it broken?" "No, I can move it, I think. Oww!" I yelp into her ear. "Well, get some ice on it and keep it elevated until I get there. I have some things we need to talk about the Washington case." "Okay," I say, hanging up. I hiss as I touch the limp, little toe of my right foot. I hobble to the freezer and grab some ice cubes to put inside a washcloth and swear obscenities as I go back to my room. I'm just beginning to become engrossed in an episode of M.A.S.H. when I hear Scully call my name. "I'm in here," I shout, laughing at the idiot wearing women's clothing. What's his name, anyway? Scully comes into my bedroom and b-lines for my sore toe, prodding it with her firm, very ungentle doctor's hands. "Oww, Scully!" I howl. "It's broken, Mulder," she says looking at me with her gorgeous blue eyes. I'm mesmerized for a moment and just stare at her. Then she touches my toe again and I wail. "Sorry, Mulder, but I need to see it. We should straighten it and wrap it so it can heal." "Oh, no you're not! Not unless you are carrying a syringe of morphine in your pants' pocket." "Mulder, stop being a baby." My jaw drops; I have no reply. I don't think I'll be able to talk my way out of this one. I finally submit to her will and allow her to dress my toe; being sure to whine every chance I get. She doesn't waver while on the job, though. She doesn't even flinch when I yell, "Damn it, Scully!" and pull my foot back from her. She just stares at me with those determined eyes and I give in, letting her have my wounded foot. These few moments that we have in silence as she dresses my toe makes me realize something: it's time. It really is time for us now. A few years ago, when the subject came up, I shot it down. I'm glad I did. It has allowed us to develop an honest trust between us both. People have come and gone in our lives, but we have remained together. This incredibly sexy, sturdy, loving and beautiful woman, who has been with me through most of my rough years, is still here-- dressing my toe, for God's sake! "There, you're finished," she says, leaning back and looking satisfied with herself. I just stare at her with an idiotic grin on my face. She's incredible. Her smile fades and she returns my stare with something strange in her eyes. "Scully," I say, breaking the silence, I see her stare turn to one of fear. She knows what I am going to say. We can't have that, now can we? That would so blemish my unpredictable image. I look down at my bandaged toe and back up at her with a smile on my face, "thank you." "You're welcome," she says, beginning to roll the remainder of the gauze bandage up. "I, uh, I've got some news today about that case, and I think that you were right about a few things." "You do?" I ask, trying to cover up my astonishment that she agrees with me for once. "Madison didn't kill that man, something else did." "What did?" "Well, the forensic and toxicology reports came back and it seems as though what we thought was some type of 'goo' was merely a silicon-based neurotoxin, but it was the goo that killed him." "Had the lab ever seen it before?" "Yes, apparently it is something used in the factory where Mr. Olland worked. There are about three witnesses that say Olland went into the area without his protective gear on and got some on his skin. And speaking from personal knowledge, I can tell you the man didn't have the greatest track record for personal hygiene. It was only a matter of time that he would ingest some of it." "So he killed himself?" I ask, completely flabbergasted. "In a matter of speaking, yes." "So what about the factory, are they to be charged for him getting into the stuff?" "No, because he completely disregarded the factory's safety policy, and therefore, they are not responsible." "Wow," I say, my mouth hanging open. "It's not that complicated, Mulder. At least it was something tangible and easy to prove. Don't tell me that it doesn't give you satisfaction to solve a case." "No, I just have more fun with the interesting cases. I really thought this one was an x-file-at first anyway." "Better luck next time," she says, patting my shoulder as she stands. She's avoiding me, yet not avoiding me. That makes no sense, but it's true. She wants to be here, but she doesn't. She's such a woman. "Leaving so soon?" I ask, getting up behind her. "I've got some things I need to do today." "Aw, come on, Scully. It's Sunday. Nobody does anything important on Sundays," I say, hobbling behind her into the living room. She turns and looks at me before bending to get her coat off the sofa. "You need to get off of that foot for the rest of the day. I know you'll be at the office tomorrow, so you better rest it while you can." "It would be an easier recuperation if you'd stay here and veg with me for a while," I say, waggling my eyebrows at her. I have my ways. "I dunno, Mulder, I need to-" "Look, if you've got things to do, just go ahead. Don't worry about me and my mutilated little toe. We'll be fine." First the waggle, now the guilt. Not even the parthenon could withstand that blast. She puts her hands on her hips and huffs out a breath. "Only if you've got chick flicks, Mulder," she says, giving into the fact that I'm not letting her leave. "Oh, I've got plenty of those," I say, with a sly grin before hobbling over to the tv. "Not that kind of chick flick, Mulder." END PART TWO. CONTINUE IN PART THREE. PART THREE I look at my coffee table, which is littered with empty take-out boxes and chopstick wrappers and rub my overfilled belly with satisfaction. Scully is full as well, but she didn't put away anywhere near as much as I did. As I sit on the couch watching "When Harry Met Sally" for the umpteenth time, I hear her breathing becoming deeper and deeper. She's leaning away from me against the arm of the sofa with my blanket over her legs. She's asleep. I knew she'd fall asleep if I stayed quiet a while. This isn't the first time she's fallen asleep on my couch; she did it twice last week after the Donnie Pfaster incident. That took so much out of her; out of us both. One night, she didn't sleep at all. She just sat up and watched TV until who knows when because I fell asleep next to her on the sofa. By the time I woke up, she was gone. I can't stand the thought of her breaking her neck lying there like that, so I lean over and softly shake her. "Scully," I whisper, after turning off the TV. "Scully, wake up." She opens her eyes and groans a sleepy groan, looking over at me. She blinks and stares at me like a child. "Whu?" she says sleepily. "Come on," I say, beginning to stand, "you're gonna get a stiff neck if you stay there." She blinks a few times and rubs her eyes with the heels of her hands before pulling off the blanket and standing. I see that she's not completely sturdy on her feet, so I hold out my hand to her. This feels so strange, but so comfortable to me. I love this woman and she's following me to my bedroom. Take this situation and place it between Any other couple and it's sexual. But to us, it's pure and loving: no intent behind it at all. I'm a warm-blooded male with eyes, yes, but I'm no longer the horny teenager I once was. Sex, to me, is no longer my driving force. I've found the intimacy that Scully and I share much more rewarding. Although, I wouldn't pass up the opportunity to fuck--I mean make love to--her if one should ever arise... Down, boy. We enter my bedroom and I walk to my dresser to find a T-shirt for her to wear, but by the time I turn around, she's already in bed, pulling up the covers. I pull off the jeans that I had changed into when I got home and pull down my side of the bed. She's curled into a ball, facing the window already breathing deeply again when I finally crawl in behind her. I put my arm around her and whisper, "Goodnight, Scully," into her ear before resting my head on my pillow. I nestle up against her back-- spooning behind her. I breathe in the smell of her, enjoying her shampoo choice with each breath. Pantene? Perhaps it's Herbal Essence, I think with a wide grin on my face. I can see that now: Scully in the shower moaning and groaning while lightly scraping her scalp with shampoo... Okay, new thoughts. I can't sleep this close to someone I'm fantasizing about. I'm man enough to handle my impulses, but tell that to Mr. Winky down south. I close my eyes, hoping for sleep to come; thanking God or whatever's up there for the woman sleeping next to me. Then it hits me: she never really responded to my profession of love to her. Is she intentionally toying with my emotions? I am lying here with her in my arms in my bed and she has never once given me a sign of how she truly feels about me. Well, no audible sign, anyway. She has told me before how she feels about me, but has time changed anything? I suppose this is her way of showing me that this is right and that it's okay for me to love her. This is Scully letting me love her. There's something so incredibly beautiful and sexy about this, but I can't quite put my finger on it. Maybe it's because this is so much different than when we're working. This is us just being together. I hear her groan a little and I lower my lips to her shoulder to kiss it, assuring her that I'm there to hold her and keep her safe. I close my eyes and all goes black as I drift to sleep. ~~~~~ "Yes, Mulder! Oh, please, God, YES!" she screams, holding me so tightly against her that I almost can't breath. I push into her over and over and over and... "Mulder. Mulder, there's been another death." I open my eyes and she's standing over me. "Mulder, it's almost 7." "Oh, shit!" I say, throwing back the covers. I am immediately aware that I'm sporting some serious wood and I cover back up. "Mulder, what are you doing? We have to get moving. I called the Brown county morgue and they want us to be in Ohio by noon." Scully, must you be so serious this early in the morning? I get an idea. "I'm coming, I just have a leg cramp, I mean my toe..." I say, reaching down to hold my foot, "the cold air hit it and it just, uh, started cramping." Man, that was lame. She arches her eyebrow and turns around, heading for the bathroom. "I called the airport and the next flight leaves in an hour," she says before shutting the door. I take a deep breath and get out of bed. I pick up my jeans and slip them on before she comes back out. "Do you need to go to your apartment and shower?" I ask, buttoning my jeans. I dare not zip the fly. "No, I already did. But I do need to go and pack a few things with me," she calls back through the bathroom door. "Oh, yeah," I say, nodding my head. "I need to take a quick one and then I'll be ready to go." She opens the door and hangs her wet towel on the doorknob. "Just try to be quick, Mulder, it's getting late." "Okay, be out in a few," I say, walking past her into the bathroom. This is going to be the quickest fixer-upper I've ever done for myself. I turn on the water to the shower and strip quickly, careful not to hurt myself when I slip of my jeans. I step into the hot water and start thinking about every sexual position I have ever imagined Scully in and wrap my hand around myself and begin stroking. I bite my lower lip so that I don't let any moans escape my mouth and tug away while thinking about her red lips around my dick. I mean cock... Or do I? What would Scully call it if she were really horny? I don't care, right now, I have to make this quick. Let's see... She'd suck a little at first because deep down, Scully is a bad, bad girl. She'd tease me with her tongue and make my eyes roll back in my head. Yeah, baby, yeah! And her hair--oh God, her hair is so soft beneath my touch as I gently urge her down my shaft... She'd want so much of me in her mouth. I lean against the wall--jerking as fast and hard as I can. My eyes flutter shut and I come hard, my knees buckling beneath me. I knock down a bottle with my hand as I reach out to use the shower wall to keep myself from falling as I rest my muscles in the hot water. Damn, that felt good. My limbs feel like jelly. I hear a knock on the bathroom door. "Mulder!" "Yeah?" I answer, squirting some shampoo into my palm. "Are you okay?" she asks. "Yeah, I'm fine." "I thought maybe you'd fallen in there or something," she says, sounding honestly concerned. "No, just dropped the shampoo," I say, rinsing out my hair. Shampoo indeed, I think to myself with a grin. "Be out in a minute." I finish rinsing off and step out of the shower, drying myself off with the towel that she'd used. It's the only "clean" one left. All the rest are officially dirty by my standards. I'm sure she was thoroughly disgusted by that. I give myself a quick shave and toilet paper my nicks before stepping out into my bedroom. I go to my closet and reach for a suit and tie and slip them on before going out into the living room. I can help but laugh inwardly at myself when I see that Scully is completely dressed and ready to go and I still have toilet paper on my chin. This is so us. "Thirty minutes," she says, looking at her wrist watch. "Are you finished packing?" "No," I say, meandering back to the bedroom. "Mulder!" she says, following me. She goes straight to my closet and pulls out what little she is able to find and folds my clothes up. I hand her my suitcase and she puts them in it neatly-- fuck, even though she's in a rush, she takes the time to do it neatly--God, she is awesome! Meanwhile, I rustle around for my shoes and put them on. I go back for one last mirror check and remember that I haven't brushed my teeth yet. I do so while picking off my bloody chin paper and am sure to bring the toothbrush out with me when I'm done so that she can pack it. ~~~~~ "Jesus, there is nothing out here," I say with awe and bewilderment in my voice as I look out the window. "How can these people survive without a 7 Eleven?" I turn the radio on and hit the seek key looking for anything that isn't country music to listen to. After going through the radio's seek three times and finding nothing, I turn the radio off. "Hasn't rock music come into style here yet?" I ask, turning to look at Scully, who is studiously studying the map. "Are you sure we're not lost?" "You take a right up here, Mulder," she instructs as though she hadn't heard a word I'd said. I don't question Scully's navigational skills; I take her word for it. All of that time spent in the passenger seat has made her a regular Ferdinand Magellan. "It should be the building there on your left," she says, pointing to a hospital. "Pull around back," she instructs further after I turned into the lot. I open the door and get out of the car, stretching my hands above my head with a groan. Scully steps out of the car and I lock the doors before taking my place next to her on our way to the backdoor of the hospital that has a sign saying, "Morgue" with an arrow pointing ahead. "Classy place," I say sarcastically, but Scully just ignores me. "I happen to admire small town hospitals like this," she says finally, opening the door and striding through it. "They are so humble, yet in general, they have very intelligent caregivers. Makes you wonder if we have gotten lost in asthetic beauty and technogadgets in medicine. These people know hands on care is all about." That's my Scully: always finding something beautiful about something pathetic. Maybe that's why she has stayed by my side for all these years. We come to a desk and are greeted by an older woman missing about three teeth in the front of her mouth. Scully seems unphased by the sight while I draw back inwardly in horror. I watch Scully conduct her business with the woman, my attention going solely to the way Scully stands--her posture and her movements are so studious and polished. For such a small figure, she is really quite powerful. I bet she's worked her entire life to attain her stature. That explains why she sometimes races me to the driver's seat. She never wins, of course, because of those short little legs of hers. I've still got the speed advantage, I think, grinning to myself. "Mulder," she says, paused in mid-stride about 5-feet away from where she was just standing. I've been spacing out again. I walk quickly to her side. I often feel like a lost puppy around her. I'm her shadow nowadays. We've been through everything together and she always remains strong. I only come off strong and confident to her because our working relationship would be shattered if she ever knew just how dependent I am on her to keep me together. She could easily take advantage of me if she only tried. Wow, that's a good image... God, I wish she would. I could just see her with a leather whip and boots. ~~~~~ I lost interest in this case a long time ago. There's nothing to do with X-files here, and for once, I don't even see a possibility at all for there to be one. It's a Scully case. She is the one sitting at the small motel room table with her glasses on and the coroner's report in her hand spilling over every detail. I'm watching TV and discovering that every channel but the one with late night reruns of Seinfeld do not exist in southern Ohio. I look over at her and see her take off her glasses and rub her eyes for the fifth time and sigh. I lift the remote and turn off the TV. I would much rather be holding her in my arms right now. I have become addicted to it, quite honestly. "Scully, why don't you come to bed?" I ask, my head leaning back against the headboard. She yawns and puts her glasses back on. "I will lie down after I shower," she says, stacking up the papers she'd been reading into a neat little pile. "Have you seen the showers in these rooms, Scully?" I ask, mentally recalling the dark, dingy bathroom that I had just recently visited. She looks at me with an exhausted frown. "It may be safer if you leave the showering for the morning. You never know what will crawl in there and get you," I say with a smirk. "Perhaps you're right, Mulder," she says with a smile as she rises from the hardwood chair. "I'm always right, Scully," I say, throwing back the covers for her to join me. She stops and stares at the bed, then up at me. What's that look in her eyes? Panic? "Mulder, I should probably sleep in the other room," she says, and I furrow my eyebrows at her. I think she's uncomfortable, so I try my best not to appear as hurt as I am. I thought we only asked for two rooms this time in order to keep up appearances. I didn't expect her to really use it. "Why?" I ask. "I don't feel comfortable while we're on a case. It's just better, I think," she says, licking her lips, "if we sleep in separate rooms." "I understand," I nod, feeling my stomach lurch into my throat. She's absolutely right. There are differences between offices and bedrooms: mainly that bedrooms are more casual than offices. And when we're on a case, we're in the office--in other words, hands off. "I understand completely, Scully." She looks at me for a moment and says, "Goodnight, Mulder," before opening the door and shutting it quietly behind her like a little mouse. I sink down into the cold bed and close my eyes. She's right. She's absolutely right. But now that I think about it; it tells me how she views us. She thinks of us as more than a casual thing. Our relationship is important to her! I'm important to her! I jump out of my bed and rush out the door. This is the end of denial, Scully. It's time to get the ball rolling. END PART THREE. CONTINUED IN PART FOUR. PART FOUR "Scully, open up," I say, knocking heavily on her door. She is taking so long to open it. I hope she's oka... My jaw drops. "What is it, Mulder?" she asks, wearing nothing more than a white towel. "Uh," say, dragging my eyes up to meet hers. How stereotypically male of me. "Can I come in?" She steps away from the door. "Can this wait a second, Mulder? I need to put something on..." she asks, already walking toward the bathroom. "No, we have to talk right now," I say, stopping her from going away. I step up in front of her--so close that I almost step on her toes. I don't even know what force is driving me to do what I feel I'm about to do. I stare into her frightened eyes and in this very moment, I see permission in their blue depths. I lower my mouth to hers and slide my hand behind her back. I kiss her forcefully, fully, the way I've meant to kiss her for so many years and never had the balls to. I feel her body submit to me; her lips kiss back fervently. My free hand goes to the back of her head, and I lace my fingers through her hair. I step into her as closely as I can in order to feel her body firmly against mine. I hear her moan and all thought flies from my brain as I become hard with need for her. I press my hips into her soft belly; needing her to feel me--to understand just how much I have wanted her. Her hands slide from my sides down to cup my ass and I graze her lips with my teeth as I hiss. I've always known she wanted to do that. My left hand slips down to her thigh and I drag the towel up as I grope her right hip and buttock. She moans again and I feel myself hardening even more at the sound. This is incredible. "Scully," I say through my teeth as I drag my mouth away to her neck. She turns her head to give me access, and I kiss just beneath her left earlobe before flicking my tongue against it. Her hands leave my ass and run up my back to my shoulders as she stands on tiptoes to kiss my neck the way I had hers. I move my way back to her lips and kiss her deeply; driving my tongue into her mouth in search of hers. She responds urgently and roughly--nearly devouring my mouth whole. She needs more than this. We both do. I begin to back away and she whimpers a little at the loss, but I quickly show her why I've done so. I slide my hand between us and reach between the flaps of the towel to find one perfectly erect nipple and take the nub between my fingers. As I roll it between finger and thumb, she moans loudly into my mouth, which sends shivers down my spine. I slide my hand up even farther to pull away her towel and I immediately feel the heat off of her body radiate between us. "Scull..." I say, running my hands up and down her back and sides and ass. So soft... My hips buck against her once before I can control them. Her hands soon find the few buttons on my shirt and I step back again long enough for her to pull it from my shoulders and arms before I have to taste her lips again. She pushes me back in order to slip my undershirt over my head and to begin undoing my pants. My erection strains so hard against the zipper of my slacks that I'm almost afraid to let her undo it. With careful hands, so unzips them and pushes both my pants and my boxers off my hips in one motion. I spring toward her and she returns to my mouth after giving me a wide grin. If I weren't so aroused, I'd feel like an idiot standing in pants down to my knees with my shoes and socks on. But this is Scully, after all. She's seen me in stranger situations than this. Well, perhaps not. I back away from her again to kick off my shoes and pull my pants the rest of the way down, along with my socks. I wrap my arms around her and pull her body firmly against mine and kiss her once more. Her soft skin against my hardness is illicitly splendid. She feels so good now that I fear I will melt once I'm inside her. God, that's where I wanna be. I slide my hands down to the top of her thighs and with her help, lift her up. She straddles my hips and holds on to my neck and shoulders for support as I carry her to the bed. I set her down at the foot of it and pull back to look into her eyes. The familiar aroma of womanhood reaches my nostrils and I groan. She looks into my eyes with such love and trust that I nearly break down and become emotional. What a buzzkill that would be. "I love you," I tell her, as if she didn't already know. She blinks and a small smile curls at the corners of her saliva-slickened lips. "I want to make love to you, Agent Scully," I continue, rubbing small circles on her hips with my thumbs. A moment of sheer bliss excites me and I smile. I move to kiss her once more. "No," she protests in an unconvincing tone, just as my lips hover over hers. "Why not?" I ask, breathing the same air as she is. "Because I need to tell you something..." I wait, my heart beating loudly in my ears. "I need to tell you that I love you too." I smile. "That's good to hear, Scully," I say, reaching her lips again. She breaks away to sit on the bed and she scoots back a little, signaling for me to join her. I do, covering her body with mine, slowly kissing whatever body part is in my path on the way up to her face: her thigh, her stomach, her midriff, her breasts, her neck... She moans and arches her body up into mine when I reach her mouth. I know how sweet her mouth is, but I yearn to taste her essence: that which emanates the smell that drives a man wild with lust. My hands roam her body until one draws up the inside of her thigh. She opens her legs to accommodate my hips and I slide my hand up to seek her wetness. My fingers dip through the damp curls and find her bud of pleasure and she unexpectedly reels up against my body as I pass my thumb overtop of it. She makes some noise like a mixture between a moan and a cry that sounds something like, "Nuh!" and I dip my fingers inside of her to gather more moisture. I rub more vigorously as my tongue dips into her mouth, mimicking the same movements that I'm making with my fingers. I'm beginning to feel lightheaded with need to be inside her, though, and I pull my hand away before I allow her to soar and she lets out an audible protest. I pull away from her face to lock eyes with her and strategically slide my slickened fingers into my mouth to taste them. Her eyes roll back in her head, so I think that must have really turned her on. Good. I slide my way down her body and off of the bed where I kneel on the floor. I pull her hips toward me until her bottom is barely on the edge of the bed. She sits up on her elbows and I look into her eyes as I lower my mouth to her sex. I inhale the aroma of her before planting small kisses on the glistening soft flesh around her erect bundle of nerves. She moans and her hips slowly rise up and down as she urges me to taste more of her and I do: delving inside her with my tongue, I taste the thick sweetness of Scully. My head begins to spin as I reach as far inside as I can, my own erection painfully making itself known due to its neglect. I flick my tongue against her bud and her hips twitch at every pass I make. She lets out sharp cries of pleasure and I feel a deep, undeniable urge to be inside her. I pull my face away and look up at her. Her breasts are so perfect--so needful of more attention. I go to her side and pull her up the bed along with me until our heads are lying on a pillow. I reach out with one hand to grasp her right breast as I kiss her mouth once more. I love the feel of her lips on mine. I love the feel of her. I simply love her. She drapes her leg over my hip and I know what she is silently trying to tell me. She needs exactly what I need. She needs to feel connected to me--to be whole. I inch my hips toward hers and kiss her with every inch of passion I have in my soul. This feels so right. I somehow manage to form words and say, "This is it, no turning back," and grin at her. I don't even have to do a thing to be inside her, she guides me in herself. With slightly less than gentle hands, she eases me into her; easing her hips toward me in a slow, deliberate motion. The feel of her velvety walls enclosing my hardness is so heavenly erotic that I bite down softly on her bottom lip. "Scully..." I hiss through my teeth. Her tongue pries my mouth open to her and she rocks her hips back and forth little by little to encourage movement on my part. I move slowly, languidly inside her and slide my hand down to cup her tight ass as we begin to find a rhythm which suites us both. Breathing heavily, I tear my mouth from hers and move down to her neck, where I lick and nibble at the sweaty skin I find there. Above, I can hear her soft moans and feel her fingernails scrape at my scalp. "More," I hear her say in a desperate, pleading voice that I cannot deny. A vision of Scully in leather holding a whip crosses my mind's eye and I plunge deep inside her with one eager thrust. She cries out, "Yes! Harder," and I place my leg between hers and roll on top of her to get a better angle. I begin to thrust into her more forcefully; grunting with every stroke I take inside her. Both of her hands in my hair, her breath hitting the top of my head in bursts. The smell of her is intoxicating. Our bodies are covered in sweat and the term "pheromones" quickly comes to my mind. I smile against the skin of her neck before biting down on it. Her legs wrap around me tighter and my right hand slides down to where we are joined. With a few circular motions on her bud with my thumb, she cries out and I feel every muscle in her body go taunt--including the one where I continue to pump into. I go frantic with my need to release and drive into her wildly. She coaxes my orgasm by grasping my ass and counter-stroking with her hips as roughly and quickly as her tired body will allow. I feel a great warm wash over every part of my body and I come with a shout that sounds foreign to my own ears. My hips buck once, twice, three times into hers as I feel the warm mixture of our love coat my now flaccid cock. My body becomes heavy and I absent-mindedly kiss her jaw and chin before rolling to her side, taking her along with me. I begin to pull my hips from hers and she protests with a firm pull to my lower back. "No, stay," she says before lazily kissing my lips. My eyes are already too difficult to keep open, so I close them and kiss back with little enthusiasm as I feel sleepiness overwhelm me. "So good," I say, almost incoherently. "Mmm," she agrees, rubbing my back. I begin to lose consciousness and I hear her softly say, "You know what I wanted to say that day when you told me how you felt?" "What?" I ask, half asleep. "I know." I open my eyes and look down at her and see a smile on her face. "You knew," I say, rather than ask. "Yes." I rub small circles on her back as I wait for her to continue. "I've known for a while." "Am I really that transparent?" "Recall that night when you kissed me a few years back. It was right after that cockroach case. You told me that it 'wasn't time yet'. You remember?" "Mmhmm," I answer, pressing my lips to her forehead. "I didn't say that." "You didn't?" she asks. "No, I didn't. But I remember how upset you were with me." "I was more upset at myself, I think. I was so insistent to make my feelings for you known. I should have known that we weren't ready for that." "Were we ready for it this time?" I say while yawning. "Yes, I believe so," she says, rubbing my left bicep. "What's changed since then?" I ask quietly. "Us. We've changed a lot, Mulder. We've matured-- our friendship has matured. I don't know about you, but I think that has only made it more beautiful..." I don't have the heart to admit it to her, but I can barely keep my eyes open any longer. I succumb to my body's demands and drift to sleep as I listen to her quiet voice. THE END.