From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Thu, 16 Dec 1999 17:43:45 -0600
Subject: Elephant Hunting (1/1)  by Sister Zooey
Source: direct

Reply To: SisterZooey@yahoo.com


Title: Elephant Hunting (1/1)
Author: Sister Zooey
Rating: Strong R, maybe even NC-17.
Category: MSR, Humor
Distribution Statement: Anywhere, babies. Just drop me a line. 
And you all can start dropping those damn lines any day now, 
thank you! <g>
Feedback: SisterZooey@yahoo.com
Spoilers: Here and there, but nothing very serious. Enter at your 
own risk, I guess.
Summary: Mulder reflects, Mulder and Scully smoke too much, 
and then they kill the elephant in the room. Whee!
Author's Notes: For all of those of you who have been following 
my "Redhead Dancing Girl" universe, thanks a million. However, 
this story does not occur in that universe. A note on Louise: Don't 
hate her. Don't hate the fact that Mulder remembers her fondly. I 
am just so sick of Mulder's entire adolescence being portrayed as a 
sad, horrid place. So I made up the lovely Louise and handed her 
over to him. Young Fox needed some joy in his life. As long as I'm 
here, let me say thanks to everyone who has sent me feedback. 
You're all so darn **nice**!
Disclaimer: We all know they're not mine. I think we're also 
pretty sure that I'm not making one shiny penny on them. 
Everyone in this story (with the exception of Louise the basketball 
playing lesbian) rightfully belongs to Chris Carter and 1013 
Productions. 

Middle of Fucking Nowhere Motel
11:00 p.m.
In Front of Room #13

    I was sitting on the concrete step in front of my hotel room, 
admiring the view beyond the parking lot of absolutely nothing. It 
was too dark to see without streetlights and those ended about 50 
feet in front of me. In fact, the very last thing I 
could see before the 
black void of night swallowed the landscape whole was our car. A 
1999 Ford Contour. Silver. Passenger Side Airbags. Blue and 
yellow Alamo Rent-a-Car sticker on the bumper. It was sitting in 
the dead center of the halo of light provided by the lamp in the 
parking lot, as if I was supposed to be having some epiphany 
related to it. I tilted my head heavenward, half expecting a 
heavenly chorus. No dice. Fine then, Scully's god wouldn't be 
getting an epiphany out of me if I didn't get a soundtrack.
    I had been sitting here for a good hour. I think it had been an 
hour, but I couldn't tell you because my watch was on the dresser 
on the other side of the pressboard door. It was about 65 degrees, 
a nice night for the sweater I wore, but cool enough to chill the 
concrete under me. My ass was numb. 
    I had been sitting there for a good hour with my gun in my 
right hand and a cigarette in my left. Well, one of about the six 
cigarettes that I had gone through in the time that it had taken for 
my bony ass to go numb. I had taken the clip out of my gun and 
left it in the room with my watch. Regardless of how utterly 
unprofessional and adolescent it was, I was playing with my gun, 
balancing it on the back of my hand, dropping my hand out of the 
way, and then catching, cocking, and aiming it in one motion. I 
had seen that in a movie once, only a couple years ago. I thought it 
was pretty cool. I spun it around on my index finger, bored with 
the trick I had perfected many years ago. Backwards, forwards, 
the dark silvery metal occasionally glinted in the light. 
I went back working on my newer, utterly useless trick. I
aimed, one eye 
closed (why do they always do that in movies? It totally fucks up 
depth perception. I couldn't shoot for shit like this.), cigarette 
between my lips. I felt like Dirty Hairy for a split second.
I felt like the ten year old boy I had once been with the 
plastic supposed to look like leather holster and plastic supposed 
to look like ivory and silver weapon of the cowboy play set I had owned. 
    "This is a .357 Magnum, the most powerful handgun..." I 
started to say, but then stopped when I realized I didn't remember 
then rest of the speech. I set my gun down gently on the step next 
to me and concentrate on smoking. It was pretty fun. I was having 
a hard time remembering why I quit. Something about cancer, 
early death, physical health... somehow, I thought, I don't think 
it'll be the cigarettes that'll get me. So I took another drag. 
    Middle of Fucking Nowhere. Over the past seven years, Scully 
and I have built up our own personal vocabulary, our own bitter 
jokes. Fucking Nowhere was her idea. Central Illinois is Fucking 
Nowhere. Most of Kansas is Fucking Nowhere. And where I am 
sitting, on the cement stoop of a motel in Northern Wisconsin is 
Fucking Nowhere. Basically, where-ever Scully can't find a 
Starbucks and I can't replace the clothes that I ruin by doing 
whatever it is I do to get blood or mud or unidentifiable goo on 
myself is Fucking Nowhere. I looked around myself one more 
time, to see the dark closing in at all sides of me. Yup. Middle of 
Fucking Nowhere. Without cable. Which, as one might deduce, 
even if they're not an Oxford boy like me, was exactly why I was 
out on the stoop. I went outside to see if I could see the stars. It 
was cloudy. I stayed outside anyway. 
    God, I went to Oxford and I was sitting on the concrete stoop of 
a no-tell motel in the extreme north of the United States, smoking 
and playing with my gun like some Montana freeman. Somehow 
that made no sense. Somehow I should have been in a mahogany 
room drinking brandy, staring thoughtfully into an unnecessary 
fire. My trophy wife should have been in the chair across from me, 
reading whatever it is that trophy wives read when they are 
looking ideal for their important husbands. My genetically 
flawless children (one boy and one girl, naturally) should have 
been asleep in their tiny beds above my important, burdened 
head. I would have even liked a cat coiled at my feet. No, in my 
lap, so I could pet it absently. No dog for Dr. Mulder: He is 
secretly a cat person. 
    I could feel the fire warming my face, feel the angora fur under 
my fingers, see my nameless wife thumbing idly through - 
something, when the illusion was shattered by the surprisingly 
loud sound of a door opening behind me.
    "Mulder? What are you doing out here?"
    Ah, the little woman. 
    "Nothing really, Scully." I patted the concrete next to me.
"Pull up a slab."
    She sat and looked at me long and hard for a minute. Nuh-uh, 
G-woman. I'm the profiler in this pair. She looked to my left. 
"Your gun and some cigarettes." Her voice was flat. I recognized 
it as her I'm about to be nosy and simultaneously crack a joke 
voice. "Planning on executing someone, Mulder?" And there it 
was. I smiled a little. 
    "Nah. I left my blindfold at home." I looked at her for 
the first time since dinner at the Fucking Nowhere Greasy 
Spoon. She had changed out of her suit, as I had. Scully was
wearing a pair of jeans missing one knee and a slash high 
up on the other thigh. I 
could see her stunningly pale skin through the hole. She was also 
wearing what looked suspiciously like one of my undershirts. Her 
hair was damp and curly. I hadn't even heard the shower come 
on. She had no makeup on her face and she was wearing her 
glasses. She looked about 23 years old and I felt like a dirty old 
man for imagining the feel of the skin under the slit in her jeans. 
    "What does a girl have to do to get a cigarette in this place?"
    Relieved that I had an excuse to take my eyes off her 
undergraduate-looking body, I passed the Morleys and the 
matches over to her. "Four out of five key players in nefarious 
government conspiracies name Morley as their brand of choice, 
Agent Scully."
    "Always best to go with what the experts recommend," She 
said around the cigarette as she lit up. She set the matches aside 
and took a drag larger than I thought her lungs could hold. 
Holding her breath, she grinned at me. "Jesus, that feels good,"
she said and exhaled.
    I nodded and filled my own lungs. On the exhale, I said, 
"Scully, have you ever done drugs?"
    "What kind of drugs, Mulder?"
    "Ever smoked pot?"
    "Yeah, once. It was kind of boring and I felt dumb laughing at 
everything." She laughed as the next lungful of smoke left her. 
"And there was that one time with the mushroom. But I didn't so 
much do that, as it was trying to do me." She gave me a sideways 
look. "What about you?"
    "I smoked a lot of pot. I dropped acid once."
    "Mulder!"
    I ploughed on, ignoring her. "Funny thing is, I didn't drink. I 
didn"t start drinking, not one drop, until after Oxford." She was 
staring at me, mouth slightly open. I took a drag off my cigarette 
before I continued. "So does the bad boy thing make me sexy?" I 
turned my head to exhale the smoke.
    She snapped out of it and rolled her eyes. "Take me, take me 
now," Her voice was as flat as level ground. 
    "Only if you get your Catholic school girl uniform out of 
storage."
    She laughed up at the sky. "God..." Her thin white throat was 
beautiful. I wrestled with the urge to swoop down and kiss her 
pulse point. 
    Silence reigned for a few minutes. We both lit another cigarette 
and smoked up at the sky. She lay back on the icy cement and 
stared up at the clouds. I did the same, stealing sideways glances 
at her breasts, arguing with myself over whether or not she was 
wearing a bra. The 'nots' were winning. 
    "No, Mulder, I'm not. Now stop staring."
    I hated it when she did that. It jumped the hell out of me every 
time. "I wasn't staring," I muttered. She didn't respond. We went 
back to smoking in a comfortable silence. I kept dipping my toes 
into the water of the mood around us, testing the temperature. 
She was out here. She was smoking. She mentioned her 
underwear. She was probably as bored as me. Scully'll talk when 
she's bored. I would have been a moron to pass the opportunity 
up. 
    "So, Agent Scully -"
    "Yes, Fox?"
    Point taken. "Scully, am I a good kisser?"
    I looked down at her. Her brow was wrinkled. She was giving 
my half-serious question serious consideration. She rolled her 
head lazily to the left to make eye contact with me. Her cigarette 
hand was splayed out in between us. "Do you realize it has been 
four months since that happened and this is the first time one of 
us has said anything?"
    "Why are you surprised?"
    "I'm not, I guess." She returned to her pondering. 
"I don't think I can really answer that question based on 
the kiss. It was pretty basic."
    "True."
    "I think that particular kiss was more about emotional content 
than the actual physical aspect of it."
    "Emotional content?"
    "The last time someone kissed me like that, Mulder, I was 16 
years old. His name was Marcus and he was so nuts about me that 
he initially couldn't form logical sentences when I was around."
    "Okay. Very well. So I care about you." She raised an eyebrow 
at me. "That's all you're getting tonight, I'm afraid. I'm not gonna 
say that to you for the first time in the middle of - "
    "- Fucking Nowhere," she finished absently. "Wait." She sat up. 
"Wait one second. The first time? You already told me - you said 
it after the Queen Anne."
    What? "What?"
    "When you were in the hospital, you said it. After Skinner and 
the Gunmen left, you called me over to your bed and said 'I love 
you'." She swallowed her last three words, spoke them quietly.
    "Really?" No more Demerol for me in the hospital, that's it. 
Only Morphine. I would rather spend the whole time in the 
hospital bawling my eyes out as a side effect to the Morphine than 
letting my mouth get away from me in ways I don't even know 
about until over a year later. 
    "Yeah. If it makes you feel any better I didn't take you 
seriously. I realized you were drugged."
    That made me feel worse. "Good. Cause I was pretty messed 
up." I turn away from her. "So it was a pretty bad kiss then?" I 
was trying to get the conversation back on track.
    "I didn't say that. It was - sweet."
    "I can live with sweet. What did you do that night after you 
dropped me off?"
    "I dunno. Went home, had some tea and a snack. I went to bed 
around two. What about you?"
    "About the same." Yeah, about. There was one tiny, sweaty 
detail I left out. That night, I had wished the undead had gnawed 
on my left arm and not my right. I'm not left handed. Well, not 
usually. I made do, though. 
    Scully's voice was quiet and it brought me back from my 
memories of her name on my lips. "Was it what you expected?"
    "How do you mean?"
    "When you thought of our first kiss, was that how you 
imagined it?"
    I smiled. Scully had just tipped her hand, showing me all of her 
cards. She had a flush - all hearts. "Scully, you used to daydream 
about kissing me, didn't you?"
    She turned the color of a strawberry instantly. "I didn't
say that, I just assumed that you -" She trailed off.
    "You know, Scully," I paused to light another cigarette, 
confident enough to let her squirm for a minute. "In profiler 
school the first thing they teach us is that if someone suspects 
someone else of a particular behavior, odds are, they're guilty
of it themselves. Liars commonly assume that most other people are 
liars. Thieves are overprotective of their possessions. And so on 
and so forth. So, Scully, let me ask you again: You used to 
daydream about kissing me, didn't you?"
    She straightened herself up very tall. "Didn't you?" was all she 
said and she said it softly. I realized that perhaps I had taken my 
teasing too far.
    "Every day, Scully."
    Her body relaxed visibly and she turned to me with a slight 
smile on her face. "Was that how you imagined it?"
    "I imagined it a lot of different ways. That one never crossed 
my mind. I figured it was going to happen in some really weird 
situation, so I imagined up as many as possible to cover my bases. 
I was trying to predict it so I wouldn't make a complete ass of 
myself when the time came."
    "You were nervous?"
    "I was making the face, wasn't I?"
    She tilted her head to one side and looked up, remembering. I 
wish I could see the way she remembered it, colored with her 
emotions. I don't even know how she felt about it. Her weird 
partner, creepy ol' Spooky, finally makes good on all the blue 
remarks he has been tossing her way for seven years. And, 
according to her, it was sweet. The combination must have 
confused the hell out of her. "Yeah," she smiled slowly. "You 
were." This seemed to be good news to her.
    "I haven't been that nervous since ... well, suffice it to say I 
haven't been that nervous in a long time."
    "The hallway?"
    "No, that happened too fast for me to be nervous. Well, I was 
nervous at first, but I was too upset to really feel it."
     She was studying me again, like she had when she first came 
outside. "When was the last time you were that nervous, 
Mulder?"
    "When I lost my virginity."
    She did that strawberry thing again. "Mulder," she wasn't 
looking at me, "it was just a kiss. It wasn't... we didn't -"
    "No, we didn't. But we've been at this for so long Scully that 
everything we do - kiss, hug, even look at one another - has taken 
on a bigger meaning than it would have for normal people." I 
sighed. I felt like I had just taken a breath after being 
under water for a very long time.
    Scully nodded slowly. "So kissing me was better than sex."
There was that flat, joking voice again.
    "I didn't say that. Kissing you made me feel like a clumsy 17 
year old again." 
    "Seventeen? You were 17 when you lost your virginity?"
    "Yeah, I was. And I didn't really so much lose it as actively go 
out of my way to get rid of it."
    "Why?"
    "Cause I wanted to have sex. I wanted to try it." She stared at 
me, saying nothing, and leaving me to fill the silence. "Her name 
was Lou. Louise, actually. She'd been my closest friend since 
junior high. We decided to do a little research one afternoon in my 
room. It was summer. We'd been playing basketball all day."
    "Always hanging out with the girls, Mulder?"
    "The more things change, Scully." I smiled down at the cement. 
"Wanna hear something funny about all of that?"
    "What?"
    "Lou was a lesbian." Scully gave me an utterly hilarious look. 
    "You lost your virginity with a lesbian." I took it 
from her tone that she thought I was lying to her.
    "Yup. She said that she wanted to try sex with a guy and, 
believe me Scully, I was more than happy to oblige."
    "You had sex with your best friend of five years who was a 
lesbian."
    "It was fun." I shook my head a little. "It was funny."
    "I thought you said you were nervous?"
    "Terrified. That's why we kept laughing at everything."
    I remembered the exact moment when it stopped being so 
funny. I was on top of Lou, who was almost as tall as me. I 
remember our toes tangling together as we kissed. I was on my 
elbows with my hands on either side of her head, my fingers 
threaded through her hair, my thumbs caressing her temples. She 
had thick, curly black hair. I had always quietly loved her hair and 
was taking my chance to touch it. I was in between her legs, a part 
of me brushing lightly against part of her and I soon as I thought 
about it, my stomach seized up. This was my best friend. She 
knew about Samantha. I slept at her house when Dad had been 
drinking. Her mom bought me Christmas presents. I couldn't 
believe this pretty, naked creature below me was the same girl as 
Lou who had knocked me on my ass in the driveway not two 
hours earlier. I couldn't believe we were about to do this, strange, 
secret thing together.
    "Fox? Are you okay?"
    "Fine, I'm fine. I just - Lou, I know that you 
(here I stammered. I knew about her sexuality but we never
talked about it) like girls, and that we're just friends, 
but," I rested my forehead against hers, "I just want to tell you
that I love you."
    Her eyes shone. She was crying. "I love you too, Fox."
    There was a bit of fumbling, but just for a moment, and then I 
slid into her body. I heard her gasp and I remember leaning in to 
kiss her slowly. I was thinking what an absolutely strange and 
exquisite feeling it was to be like this with her. Then she arched 
her back and I stopped being able to think.
    "Was it good? Did you like it?" Scully cut into my reverie.
    "It was, in hindsight, the best sexual experience of my life to 
date." I hoped she heard what I meant by my last two words. It 
could be better Scully. It could be you.
    "That's wonderful and unfortunate at the same time." I just 
shrugged. She took a deep breath and exhaled, "I was nineteen." I 
glanced over at her. The look on her face was one of surprise. I got 
the impression she was listening to herself talk without having 
any real control over it. "I was nineteen and there was this guy I 
knew in the dorms named Matt." Scully had sex with a guy 
named Matt. Somehow, that just didn't work in my brain. "I was 
away from home for the first time, feeling pretty brave and grown 
up. We were in his room one night, alone, and he kissed me. And 
we..."
    She didn't sound thrilled about going on, so I jumped in. "Say 
no more. I think I have a pretty good idea." I concentrated on my 
cigarette, trying to appear nonchalant when I asked, "Was it any 
good?"
    Without hesitation, she said, "Wretched."
    Ha. Take that, Matt. "I'm sorry."
    She wasn't paying much attention to me. "He was so slobbery -"
    "Slobbery?"
    "You know what I mean. Slobbery."
    "Yeah, but, I thought Dr. Scully could be more clinical when it 
came to matters of a visceral nature."
    "Nope, slobbery is the only possible word here, I assure you."
She giggled, a dismayed little sound, and buried her face in her 
hands, shaking her head hard. From the safety of her palms she 
stated, "He kept calling me baby."
    "Baby?" The thought of anyone calling Scully "baby" was 
hilarious for some reason. I bit back a laugh and said, "Baby?"
again.
    "Oh God, I knew I shouldn't have told you. I swear to God, 
Mulder, if you ever mention this again -"
    "Your secret is safe with me," I paused. I had to say it. "Baby."
    Scully made an exasperated sound that I don't think has a word 
to correspond to it, save to say it was rather loud and bordering 
on sexual (at least, in my ears). "Mulder," she whined my name. 
    "I swear, that's the last you'll ever hear of it," she pinned me 
with a glare. I held up my hands and spoke past my cigarette. 
"Really."
    "Good. I have a gun, you may recall."
    "Every time it rains." I made a show of rubbing my shoulder. 
We brooded on our pact for a moment. As usual, I spoke first. "So 
when was it good for you?"
    She scratched her forehead. "I dunno. Jack, I guess. But even 
that - it has never been quite what I have hoped for."
    "Why not?"
    "I just can't -" She stopped mid-gesture and gave me a 
little smile, as if she had caught me at something. "I can't 
talk about this with you."
    "C'mon, Scully. Girl talk. You can paint my toenails later." She 
said nothing. "I'll do your hair. Pin curlers."
    "Where on earth did you learn about pin curlers?"
    "I have no idea."
    She laughed lightly. "I haven't talked about sex with anyone 
since Melissa."
    "You talked about sex with your sister?"
    "Well, it was more like she lectured me about it. She gave me,"
there was a long, long pause. "Shit. She gave me a -um- sexual 
aid," I was grinning like an idiot. "And said," Her voice changed. 
She was doing an impression of her sister, "Danes, if you can't 
give yourself a good fuck now and then, how is some man going 
to do it?" She shook her head, grinning. "I was 20 and she was 
embarrassing the hell out of me." Scully was doing her impression 
of an overripe strawberry. 
    "Funny that you successfully avoided my question with by 
sharing an even more embarrassing story."
    "Did, didn't I?" 
    "Nope, because I still want and answer. Why not?"
    She made a show of stretching her neck, stalling for time. "I'm 
kind of a control freak, right?"
    "You? No, never. Your lungs only have to ask permission for 
every breath, but you? A control freak?" I made a dismissing 
gesture with my hand.
    "Yeah, ok, Mr. 'Scully, have you been digging around on my 
desk? This pile of crap used to be over here, and now it has shifted 
2 inches to the right'." We grinned at one another. "My point 
being, Mulder, that I like being in control of what I am doing, 
saying, everything at all times. That makes it kind of hard 
to really enjoy sex, wouldn't you say?" I didn't say, I nodded.
"So my problem is that I have yet to find anyone who can get 
me so mindlessly out of it that I can stop caring about if I
look weird or if I've said something stupid and just enjoy what
is going on."
    There was a little tiny man in my head, hopping up and down, 
waving his little tiny hand wildly over his little tiny head. 'Me! 
Me! Ooo-oo! Pick me!' he was frantically shouting. I was having a 
hard time breathing. I felt like I was in one of the movies I didn't 
own. A very ridiculous scene rushed along in my head, in which I 
become the only man on Earth who has ever successfully driven 
Dana Scully out of her mind. Put me in, Coach. I'll win it for the 
Gipper, or something like that. There was absolutely nothing I 
could say to her after that. Anything that came out of my mouth 
after what she had just said would be unavoidably sexual. My 
mind could think of nothing else. "Well, maybe," I stopped, 
cleared my throat. I was whispering for some reason. I couldn't 
seem to speak any more loudly. "Well, maybe it has nothing to do 
with - what did you say earlier, Scully? - the physical aspect 
of it? Yes, that was it. Maybe it has nothing to do with the 
physical aspect of it. Maybe it has to do with finding someone
you feel really comfortable letting go with."
    "That's a good point, Mulder. I never really looked at it that 
way."
    "Someone you, uh, trust."
    I was fixed and wriggling under her stare, like an insect on a 
common pin. I wished she would hurry up and decide if she was 
going to crack a joke or slap me. If she didn't, I was going 
to start babbling soon to cover my tracks. I really didn't want 
to do that. I could feel it welling up in me when she finally
spoke. "Now look what you've done, Mulder."
    "What have I done, Scully?"
    "The elephant in the room is about 50 times bigger than it was 
30 seconds ago."
    "The office is gonna be damn crowded."
    "I'm never going to get a desk." She reached for another 
cigarette but stopped halfway, reconsidering. She sat back slowly 
and leaned back on her hands. "Why do we do this, Mulder?"
    "I don't know." I sighed. "It's mostly my doing, anyway. Don't 
say 'we'."
    "Yeah, but I let you, Mulder." She let her head hang back for a 
second. "I let you and I like it."
    "You like it?" This was stunning. "I've been waiting for the 
other shoe to drop, for you to get fed up, smack me, and go 
storming off to file a lawsuit."
    "God knows I would have one hell of a case." She smiled. "I 
know you don't mean for what you say to put me in my place or 
something like that. I know I should take it as a compliment and I 
know you would never flirt with me in front of other agents or in 
front of anyone which would compromise my integrity. So I like 
it." She rolled her head back and sighed loudly. "And I'm just as 
much of a woman as any of those fawning morons in the 
secretarial pool. I appreciate just as much it when an attractive 
man says flattering things to me."
    "Are you implying that I hit on the secretaries?"
    "No, I am implying that you flirt with them to get your way. To 
get our way."
    "Does that bother you?"
    "Not really, because I know you don't mean it."
    "And I mean it with you?"
    "In a way, I think you do, yes."
    "Do you think I mean it literally?"
    "Stop playing shrink with me, Mulder."
    "Sorry. I was wondering how I sound from your point of view."
    "You sound like a very messed up individual who had a 
crummy childhood which left him unable to relate emotionally to 
other people except through jokes which hide how he really feels 
while expressing it at the same time."
    "Now who's playing shrink, Scully?" I would have laughed had 
what she said not sounded so right. "We're messed up, do you 
realize that?" She nodded. "What are we to one another?"
    "Partners."
    "I think that does sum it up pretty well. Cause that word has an 
unspoken romantic connotation." I laughed humorlessly. "Kind of 
like us."
    "You're my friend, too. You're my best friend, actually. One of 
the best friends I have ever had." We were momentarily back on 
familiar footing, as she had just ignored what I said.
    "You are the best friend I have ever had, Scully."
    "Better than Louise?"
    "Yeah, better than Lou. I never would have trusted Lou to save 
my life." I scooted closer to her, my jeans making a small noise as 
they brushed across the cold concrete. We were both staring 
straight ahead. "Sometimes I think of you as my wife."
    "What?" She sounded genuinely shocked. I could feel her 
looking at me. I didn't return the look though. I was afraid
I'd lose my nerve.
    "I trust you with my life, you know everything about me, you 
fuss over me and do nice things for me when I get sick, I eat two 
thirds of my meals with you, I remember your birthday, I 
remember the day we met and I notice when the anniversary of it 
as it passes every year."
    "I had no idea." 
    "Pretty sappy, isn't it?"
    "In a way, but I think things like that are inherently sappy." 
She paused. I was stealing glances at her, avoiding her eyes. "So
when you say those things, do you really mean it?"
    "Yes."
    "But you don't mind that I just kind of ignore it?"
    "Not really. It would probably scare the hell out of me if you 
flirted back."
     She laughed, sounding genuinely pleased. "You do realize 
where this is going, don't you Mulder?"
    "What? This conversation?"
    "Yeah, this conversation."
    There was an audible click as my defense mechanism snapped 
into place. "Are we going elephant hunting, Scully?"
    "I hear that requires a pretty big gun. Are you the man for the 
job?"
    Yup. It was scaring the hell out of me all right. All I could do 
was laugh quietly and study my hands. 
    She bumped her shoulder against mine, a friendly nudge. "You 
know I trust you, right Mulder?"
    My throat was dry, tight. "Yeah, I do. And you know I trust 
you?"
    "I do." I heard her take a deep breath. "Mulder. Look at me."
    I turned my head to face her. Her plan of attack was 
identical to the one I used at the hospital. Even before I 
entirely turned my 
head, her lips were on mine, soft, cool, and smoky. The taste of 
Scully and cigarettes mixed on my lips was making me a little 
dizzy. I put my arms around her to prevent myself from tipping 
over. She snuggled into my chest, continuing to kiss me. I slanted 
my mouth slightly and she responded by opening hers. I touched 
the tip of her tongue with mine and she shivered, as did I. I ran 
my tongue along the back of her teeth lightly and was abruptly 
struck by the inherent strangeness of the situation. Perhaps she 
was, too, as we pulled away simultaneously. I heard the soft pop 
as our mouths parted gently. Our faces were still so close I 
couldn't quite focus on hers. 
    "Sorry."
    "No, Mulder, it's okay. I liked it." She rested her forehead 
against mine. "It's just," she paused and sighed, bathing my face 
in her breath. "The kiss in the hospital was easy, because I could 
tell myself that it was friendly if I really wanted to." I nodded, 
jiggling both of our heads. "Kissing you like that," she ducked her 
head a little, "is strange. You're Mulder, you're..."  she paused. I 
held very still, waiting for the string of adjectives. "You're just 
Mulder." I smiled because I understood what she meant. 
    "This reminds me of being with Lou," I touched her cheek 
lightly. "I felt the same way as I do now. I remember thinking 
how great it felt to kiss her and touch her, but I also remember 
thinking how weird it was. She was Lou. I'd be lying if I said I 
never thought of her sexually, but being confronted with the fact 
that she wanted me like that was completely disarming." 
    "Normally, I think, lovers say that they're best friends, 
but they were lovers before they were best friends. We're trying
to do it the other way around." The word "lover" stunned me. 
I was so unnerved by the situation that Scully's acknowledgement
of what we were trying to become at that very moment was startling. 
    "Should we slow down?"
    "No." She quickly amended, "unless you want to, of course."
    "I don't, at all." She smiled broadly. I leaned in to kiss
her smile, which faded to accommodate the touch of my lips. The
kiss was only the gentle pressure of my mouth and nothing more.
As I pulled away, I spoke against her mouth, "I love you."
    "I thought I wasn't going to hear that tonight?" She teased me. 
"I love you, too."
    We sat staring at one another for a naked moment. I stood, 
grabbing my gun, and tucking it into the waistband of my pants. I 
left the cigarettes where they lay. With my right hand extended, I 
gestured 'come here' with my head. Scully took my hand and I 
pulled her up to me and slid my arm around her waist. When her 
body made contact with mine, I remembered Cher, The Great 
Mutato, and how much fun that had been. How easy it had been 
to just dance with her. 
    "Come on Scully." We were swaying slightly to music that may 
have very well been playing in both of our heads. 
    "Where are we going, Mulder?"
    "My room. I've got a game we can play."
    She grinned wildly. "One on one?"
    "That would be the best way to play this game, I'd say." I 
stepped forward, forcing her to step back and up onto the stoop. 
Another step and I joined her. Eventually, we were at my door. 
Her back was pressed against it and her front was pressed into 
me. I opened the door and we fell through it, Scully letting loose a 
'don't swipe my ice cream' squeal. I kicked the door closed with 
my foot, scooped her up and unceremoniously tossed her on the 
bed.  She made a quick grab for me, yanking me down onto the 
bed with her. After we had settled down and I had worked my 
feet out of my sneakers, there was silence. 
    Scully saved the day. "So, uh, what did you and Lou do next? 
I mean, once you got to this point?"
    "Pretty much this." I propped myself up on one elbow, so as to 
effectively loom over her. 
    "This?"
    "Wondered what in the hell to do next."
    Scully linked her hands behind my neck and hauled my face 
down to hers, placing me on the receiving end of a long, wet, 
moderately sloppy kiss. She slid her cool little hands under my 
shirt and up my back. When I shivered, she smiled against my 
lips. I ran one finger down her cheek, her neck and over one 
breast, getting the same shiver out of her. I backed ever 
so slightly 
out of her kiss and murmured, "I think I have an idea of what to 
do next now." Her breast fit perfectly into my palm. Through her 
T-shirt (my T-shirt?) I squeezed the soft mound gently. I lost 
control over my neck and let my head drop into the place where 
her shoulder met her neck. It smelled like vanilla in there. 
I was 14 
years old when I managed to get my first handful. The girl had 
been wearing vanilla perfume at the time. My head spun for a 
moment and I lost track of when I was. Scully's happy little moan 
brought me out of it. I began kissing her neck. Scully tossed her 
head to one side, allowing me better access. Her hand threaded 
through my hair, making my scalp tingle. Her other hand was still 
up the back of my shirt. She had changed from stroking my back 
to running her nails lightly down it. My body was covered in 
gooseflesh. 
    According to what I could remember of adolescent make-out 
etiquette, we were at the point where the happy young couple 
should begin wrestling with one another's clothes.  
So I tugged up her shirt, planting open-mouthed kisses on her
breasts, not even 
bothering to pull her shirt over her head and off. I paused for a 
moment to rid myself of my sweater and left my T-shirt on for 
Scully to deal with. She yanked it up and put both of her hands to 
the task of driving me out of my mind via my back. 
    I fumbled with the button and zipper on her jeans and worked 
them just far enough down her hips. She was wearing white 
cotton underwear. I was so happy that she was wearing nice plain 
old white cotton underwear. Anything more elaborate, more 
Victoria's Secret would have been all wrong. This felt like high 
school, like when I was young, and making love with Louise. 
When it was so much better, before Phoebe and Diana, before sex 
had to be serious and before I had to pretend I knew what I was 
doing when making love to a woman. That was one of my fondest 
memories of the few times I was with Louise. I don't remember 
which time it was, but I remember looking down into her eyes 
and saying, "I have no idea what I'm doing." She laughed, not at 
me, but in understanding, wrapped her arms around me, and 
pulled me against her chest. "God, Mulder, neither do I. All I 
know is I'm having fun." Over the years, sex stopped being that 
sort of fun at some point, and became a serious, intense 
undertaking. I looked down at Scully, who was flushed and 
looking as if she was about to burst into peals of delighted 
laughter at any moment, and realized that this would not be the 
case between her and I. 
    Scully pulled my shirt over my head, immobilizing my arms for 
a moment. She laughed aloud at the sight of a helpless me before 
she worked to free me. She pitched my shirt across the room and 
watched to see where it landed. While her back was turned to me 
she took off her own shirt and threw it after mine. When she 
turned, she wouldn't look me in the eyes. I noted the struggle she 
was having with her own hands. They persisted in fluttering up 
from her lap. I took gentle hold of her wrists and kept them down. 
I had no idea what to say to her for a moment. In the end, 
I said, "I like the way you look, Scully." This seemed to help,
as she grinned and wrapped her arms around me. Her bare chest 
pressed against mine and we both gasped. 
   I think, perhaps, that this was our undoing. She pushed me back 
on the bed and made the rest of my skin bare. Scully kissed me 
and touched me everywhere. It was a rather disorienting 
experience, leaving me with little presence of mind left afterwards 
to return the favor. I fumbled as I left fingerprints and lazy
kisses all over her body. When I timidly ran my fingers between
her legs and found the soft, wet haven that awaited me there,
I sighed aloud. "Dana-" I began.
    She socked me playfully in the arm. "Who's Dana? I'm Scully." 
    I looked up to find her watching me with a soft smile on her 
face. I scooted farther down the bed and began planting feather 
light kisses on the insides and tops of her thighs. Her fingers 
danced through my hair. I kissed my way back up her body, until 
I was resting between her thighs, pressing kisses to her forehead. 
She kissed my cheeks and lightly touched my neck and shoulders. 
I propped myself up on my elbows and threaded my fingers 
through her hair. Scully angled her body to accommodate mine. I 
felt my jaw go slack as I pressed my body into hers. Neither of us 
made a sound, we simply stared and stared at one another. "Is 
this okay?" I asked.
    "Yes, Mulder it's wonderful." Her voice was slightly slurred, as 
if she were sleepy. She stretched her legs, her arms, arched her 
back (which drew an uninvited moan from me). "This feels so 
good." She snapped back to reality and met my eyes once again. 
"It's relaxing." I quirked an eyebrow at her. "Oh, you know what I 
mean." I nodded. I did know what she meant. I braced myself a 
bit more firmly on my arms and began a slow rhythm of near exit 
and total entry into her body. Scully's eyes slipped shut and she 
began to move with me. Supporting myself on my left arm, I 
reached between us and slowly, firmly stroked her between the 
legs. She didn't respond beyond small sighs at first. Wrong spot, 
wrong spot, wrong spot, I was thinking. 
    "I'm sorry, Scully," my voice sounded rough to my own ears. "I 
really don't know where-"
    "It's okay." Her fingers rested on top of mine, moving them 
around. "Here, right here." She moved her hand away and left me 
to my own devices. Her eyes opened wide and she moaned 
quietly. "There, there, right there."
    The sight of Scully on the verge of an orgasm was altogether too 
much for me. I lost the ability to wait for her and began to hope 
that she would catch up. "I'm sorry, Scully, I can't -" my voice 
failed me. 
    "Here, let me." Her hand replaced mine, allowing me to use 
both hands to support myself as I quickly lost control. 
    I was vaguely aware of Scully gasping my name as I came. At 
least, I think so. I couldn't hear very well past the blood pounding 
in my ears. 
    I withdrew from her body and pulled her into my arms. I was 
feeling weak and sleepy. I also had the almost uncontrollable urge 
to burst into tears of relief and joy. I very well may have, 
had I not been so tired. As it was, I kissed her face 
repeatedly while she did her damnedest to burrow into my side. I managed to get the blankets over us and gather her
into my arms again without wrecking the general air of glee
pervading the room. Scully seemed to be fast on her way to falling asleep. I looked over at the clock on the nightstand. 
It was one-thirty in the morning. I had no idea. We had
gotten up at six that day and had to make a flight at 
nine the next day. My head began to swim with practical 
concerns. I shoved them all away. For the time being, I had only 
one concern.
    Namely, making sure "Baby" here wasn't out to swipe my fair 
share of the covers.

XXXFINXXX
Feedback me, babies