TITLE: "Enamorado Con Mi Socio" 

AUTHOR: Jacquie LaVa

RATING: R

CATEGORY: MSR, Epilogue to "One-Upmanship"

DISCLAIMER: Almost done with them... but I'd bet it'll take CC weeks 
of standard eps to wipe the smiles off their faces...

SUMMARY: Translation is (roughly) "In Love With My Partner" -

"Enamorado Con Mi Socio"

 

"Morning, Sunshine..."

I watch her stir as the watery sunlight filters in through the slatted 
blinds of our hotel room. Watch as my softly-murmured words register 
in her sleepy ears, and she stretches under the thick bedspread. I can 
feel her toes curling against my shins, the smallness of her feet 
swallowed up in the space I created for them, just inside of my 
calves. Sometime in the night, she wound her fingers through mine, and 
we must have slept holding hands. My fingers are cramped up a little, 
but I would rather have cut them off than disturb her, so I just let 
myself fall asleep that way. I actually slept so much better knowing 
we were linked in just that fashion - perhaps I should remember that, 
next time I suffer from insomnia.

Ah, eyes flickering; here comes the blue of them, slitting open a 
fraction at a time, pupils still dilated from her slumber. Lashes a 
little sticky, whether from the Sandman or tears, it's hard to tell. 
Certainly we both did some crying last night... Now a yawn, 
accompanied by a tinge of Scullymorningbreath - doesn't bother me, 
never did. Scully's worst breath is still the sweetest odor to me, 
mostly because I love her but also because it means she lives - she is 
alive and well, and in my arms, and for that wondrous gift I could 
withstand rhino breath - I really could. I hold her hand and watch her 
eyes gain awareness, and see the smile breaking behind the sheer blue 
of them - and think to myself that there's nothing quite so pretty in 
my world, as watching Dana Scully awaken in the morning. I must be 
staring at her very hard, because I get one quirked eyebrow and the 
beginnings of a smile, before she grimaces and clutches at her head 
with her free hand.

"Mulder, dj vu... not more tequila! Please tell me we didn't drain the 
tequila again - ooh, my head!" She tries to rub at her brow, and I 
gently push her hand aside and massage her temples with my fingers, 
while she rests against the pillows and sighs with relief. I can feel 
her playing with the hair on my chest as I ease her headache, and 
although her touch is affecting me like mad, I won't act upon it - not 
until I rid her of the throb in her head. Then, she can repay me by 
ridding me of a certain head-throb...

"Not tequila, baby - don't you remember? This time it was Mescale - I 
nabbed it from the cupboard above your sink..." Her look of absolute 
horror is not lost on me, and I fight to keep the chuckle inside, for 
I know just what her next question's gonna be. She doesn't disappoint 
me.

"The sink... oh no. Green label? Shit - that bottle Charlie sent me... 
please, Mulder, tell me we didn't drink it! God, it had a worm in it - 
an honest-to-goodness worm! Mulder, please..." She's in my arms now, 
begging me... this is too sweet, but I have to tell her the truth. 
Well, I don't have to... but I want to. I know, I'm rotten to the 
core. May God strike me dead - but after I tell her, please.

"No worm, Scully - not anymore." Her eyes cannot possibly get any 
bigger than they seem right now, as she digests the meaning behind the 
words I speak. I am fighting a losing battle to keep a straight face; 
and as her mouth opens and closes several times, giving her the 
appearance of an adorable red-haired fish, I lose it and guffaw loudly 
into the pillows. In between gasps for air, I let her have it.

"Actually, we went halfsies on it, Scully - and I'm not sure which end 
you got, the head or the tail. It's a little fuzzy to me, in 
retrospect, because we were both so fully blitzed - but I distinctly 
remember you begging me to let you have the worm, because you needed 
to get the taste of 'that inhuman slime' out of your mouth, as you so 
delicately phrased it - and I refused to let you eat the whole thing 
by yourself..." At the mention of our latest adversary, Scully pales 
and begins to tremble, pinning me with those wide eyes as she 
whispers, more to herself than to me.

"Oh Jesus, him... for one brief moment I thought I'd dreamt the whole 
ordeal... but I didn't, did I? Guess I thought I was waking up on a 
normal, happy morning." Her little face crumples and she buries it in 
my shoulder, her emotions still running on overdrive. A by-product of 
yesterday; I know this - I went through it hours ago, and at the time, 
messed-over as I found myself - I was amazed by her utter calmness, 
her inner strength. Should have known there would be aftershocks for 
her. There always are - delayed reaction and all that. Which is why 
she hit the sauce (and the poor worm) so hard last night. I hold her 
very close, and let her get it all worked out. She's bathing me in 
tears; honestly I think the two of us have cried enough in the past 
few months, over one thing or another, to last a frigging lifetime. I 
stroke her damp hair back from her flushed cheeks, and kiss each one 
tenderly, before I curve a hand right over her heart and breathe all 
my reassurances into her ear.

"This IS a normal, happy morning for us, baby - think about it. He's 
gone, out of our lives, permanently, thanks to your courage and quick 
thinking. Soon we'll be in a new apartment, one shared equally by both 
of us; new bed too, I promise you... and we have Skinner's blessing, 
AND his support concerning the X-files. Your mother is even happy 
about it - remember you called her last night and told her, before you 
got really snockered and ate the head off that worm..." Her gagging, 
mixed in with teary, reluctant giggles, is by far one of the sweetest 
sounds I have heard yet this morning - that and the hiss of indrawn 
breath she shivers over my ear as I cup a soft breast and toy gently 
with the nipple. She presses her body into my hand, encouraging me - 
not that I need any encouragement, where loving Scully is concerned. 
That has sure never been a problem - but making her forget everything 
that happened yesterday has become my mission for today... and it's a 
mission to which I plan on dedicating myself, with a vengeance. I 
continue to rub at her nipple, as I whisper to her how amazing she is, 
how lucky I am to have her by my side - and she curls herself close 
and soaks it all in like a sponge.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I swear, this man says the sweetest things to me - knows just how to 
make me feel better. With his arms around me and his low, rough-silk 
voice in my ear I could endure anything. Our relationship has come a 
long way from the early days when innuendo flew between us like a flag 
in the hurricane - when my stoic acceptance of his teasing always put 
a damper on the fun. Mulder has loosened me up so much. God, what an 
uptight little priss I must have been! I asked him, one short month 
ago when we first became intimate - why he was able to put up with my 
shit for so long, so many years. In his bed, satiated with lovemaking; 
snuggled down into the pillows and pleasantly sore, I was brave enough 
to ask. He looked at me as if I had lost my marbles, thinking perhaps 
I was pulling his leg. When it became apparent that I was serious, he 
caught me close, and twined his long limbs all around me, creating a 
wonderful MulderCoccoon, and his impassioned words in my ear just 
about did me in.

"Are you kidding, Scully? Just what horrible things do you believe I 
had to endure, having you by my side, hmmm? Having to listen to your 
voice - oh, that was agony, to be sure - that soft, determined tone of 
yours, reasonable, logical and so damn sexy it makes me ache? Yeah, I 
hated that about you." He grinned at me and pulled me tighter.

"How about the face? Stuck with looking at it, day in and day out. 
Stripped of makeup, with freckles and that little mole of yours 
peeking out at me - those cheekbones... that mouth. Your eyes... yuck, 
Scully! You got some nerve. How could you dare to inflict upon me 
something so breathtakingly perfect as that? You are indeed evil..." I 
rolled my eyes at him, beginning to flush bright red; he licked the 
heat from my face and his mouth lingered at the corner of mine, as he 
continued to dissect me.

"Let's see... the body. Having this body in the way for seven years... 
true torture, better believe it. Seeing it everyday, clothed in those 
tight little G-woman suits and little shirts... able to only dare to 
hope that I may be permitted to touch more than that enticing spot on 
your lower back. Those curvy legs of yours, swaying in front of me, 
wearing those five-inch 'fuck-me' heels - The Spanish Inquisition's 
got nothing on you, baby. Seven years of your body, Scully - enough to 
drive a sane man to drink tequila, lots of tequila." He leered at me 
and slipped large, warm palms over my shoulders, down each arm and 
over my tense abdomen heading straight for my silky boxer shorts, 
which he twitched aside and replaced with one tender finger. I jumped 
and moaned against him, as he stroked me lovingly with his finger and 
his next words.

"Yeah, it's been hellish, Agent Scully - hellish to the max. Some days 
I barely survived it... but you know what? I wouldn't trade a day, not 
one day - of having to find a way to be your partner and friend when 
all I wanted to do was climb up into your body, so far inside that I 
could actually see out of your eyes, and look into my own heart for 
all the reasons why I stayed with you. All the reasons why I had 
myself convinced there could never be anything between us - scared I'd 
lose you if we got involved, but needing you so badly I would take you 
in any format I could get you." By now I was crying huge hot tears, at 
the beautiful words he poured on me; I had asked him why - and the 
answer I got far exceeded any I could have discovered for myself.

It's odd - for so long, the logical question for anyone to ask had 
always been, "Agent Scully, how on earth do you put up with old 
'Spooky' Mulder?" Nobody ever thought to ask how the man put up with 
me, though. And now I knew... I knew. I kissed his gorgeous face and 
swallowed his mouth and his groans, forced out when my arms and legs 
wrapped around him and tightened like a vise. We fell back on the fat 
pillows of his bed, and as he slid my boxers off and then slid his 
heat into me, I let myself deserve him, let my heart have Mulder 
without guilt, shame and with much humility. It was a pivotal moment 
in our relationship...

Now I press my ear to his beating heart, so happy to know it beats for 
only me. It could have lost its beat yesterday - if my timing had been 
the least off... if Mulder and Skinner had arrived at that animal's 
apartment even ten minutes sooner. I have held Mulder's life in my 
hands a few times in seven years, and have found it the singular most 
frightening moment of my life. To feel that strong beat lessen and 
dim; pumping erratically slower and slower, until it fades away into 
nothing... God, I would be dead myself, for my heart would stop right 
alongside his. I press my ear hard, there against his chest, and feel 
him winding his fingers through my hair to keep my head in place. 
Strong, steady, if a little rapid - I smile, knowing I am the cause of 
the quickened beat, and loving the rush of power I feel at the 
knowledge of what I do to this amazing man. I slip a hand down over 
his skin, and cup him gently, hearing him groan into my hair and 
adjust himself so that he can press closer to me. Closer... inside me, 
inside my skin and aimed straight for my own wildly beating heart.

Last night I got drunk on a bottle of yellow liquid that contained a 
pale gray worm floating belly-up; drained the bottle and ate the head 
off the little sucker and re-affirmed several times the absolute love 
and endless trust I have in Fox Mulder. I took him into my body and 
saturated myself with everything that is good and pure about my 
partner; the affirmation and blessing of two very important people in 
our lives, hanging in my still-unbelieving ears - remembering our 
boss's reaction with particular amazement...

 

"Don't think I was surprised, Agent Scully. At least not about the two 
of you being involved." He knew. Well, he's a very astute man - he 
doesn't miss much. Of course he'd know...

"You knew?" I just had to quantify it. He stared at me as if I had 
suddenly become the stupid one.

"Jesus! Do you think I'm stupid? I knew, almost a month ago, right 
after you made, um, such creative use of my office desk..."

It was a very good thing that Mulder was holding me up, or should I 
say a good thing we were holding up each other - for that gruff 
statement was just about our undoing. We gaped worse than twin trout, 
at our smirking boss. His snort of laughter didn't help matters.

Behind me I could feel Mulder's lanky frame as it wrapped me in a 
loose embrace, his warmth a comfort against me. Skinner took it all 
in; proof undeniable that we were a real couple; his lips curved up 
into a small half-smile, and I swear I could see a hint of softening 
in his eyes, hidden by those steel frames. He held up one large hand, 
when I opened my mouth and prepared to elaborate. Odd, but suddenly I 
felt the need to spill my guts... and though I finally sensed our boss 
was approving of our relationship, it didn't stop him from scaring the 
shit out of us.

"... I hate the thought of splitting you two up..." I panicked, right 
there in Mulder's arms; I teared up and panicked and begged him not to 
break us up. Looking back, I see how pathetic and desperate I sounded. 
And normally I despise that sort of weakness in myself. But for 
Mulder... well, for him I would subjugate myself in the most base 
manner, if it meant I could remain his partner in all things. But 
yesterday my emotions were so very fragile - rather like now. And I 
find myself flaming in the cheek area, six shades of red; as I 
remember standing in that hideous room surrounded by my erotic image, 
frantically trying to get myself under control while Mulder rocked me 
and crooned to me that everything was going to be fine. God, how 
mortifying!

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She's remembering - I can feel the heat in her face as it presses 
close to mine on the pillow. Poor baby; it was not the most 
comfortable moment in Scully's life, to be surrounded by graphic 
porn-shots of herself, while her boss and her boyfriend tried 
desperately to focus their attention anywhere but at those 
Scullyskin-plastered walls. My face was flaming; Skinner's was as 
well; he cleared his throat several times before finally attempting to 
speak. And after he spent several moments putting the fear of death 
into us, he lightened up considerably (well, for Walter Skinner, it 
was considerable) and wished us well -

"...I'm happy for you. Quite frankly, I was beginning to worry that 
you two would never get it together. It's nice to see that you finally 
woke up to the obvious. I don't have a problem with the relationship, 
Agents. Just behave yourselves... Is that clear?..."

Well, of course we promised to behave. What else could we say, with 
all six-feet-and-then-some of AD Skinner bearing down on us, in a room 
full of FBI-agent erotica? We nodded mutely, and promised to be good. 
And we'll keep that promise... at least when we're in the Hoover 
building, or out on a case somewhere in the field. We'll be good - 
we'll be professional. We'll be so goddamn professional you'd think we 
could be the poster boy and girl for Feds Anonymous.

But after work, or the case du jour; whether we are in our apartment 
or in a motel somewhere... well, that's a different story.

That's when we'll shut the door, and triple-lock it (or in a motel, 
prop a chair up under the doorknob); when I'll run a hot bath, and 
gently strip the G-woman suit from Agent Scully's day-weary body, 
instantly changing her from their agent, into my baby... when I'll 
pick her up and carry her into the heated bath, all steamy with silky 
water and whatever bath salts I can find; tenderly wash every 
beautiful inch of her, and then just as tenderly dry her off - with my 
tongue. If I've been a good boy (and I'm ALWAYS a good boy), she'll 
let me brush her hair, one hundred strokes through the satin of it. If 
I've been an extremely good boy (and that one's in the bag as well)... 
she'll let me stroke her other hair a hundred times as well - with 
(you guessed it) my tongue.

There's more, but it's very private, and best whispered into a small 
pink ear - such as I'm doing right now. Whispering it into Scully's 
little ear, while I wait for her to stop burying her face in the 
pillow next to me; whispering of my love, and my pride - in all that 
she is to me and all that she has done and will continue to do for me. 
For me - just because she loves me. All the more precious, because I 
almost lost her yesterday; my very reason for existing, so close to 
becoming the victim of a psychopathic animal who, I'd wager, is still 
curled in a fetal position in a locked cell somewhere clutching his 
aching balls. At least I can smile at that singularly satisfying 
thought.

So I whisper to Dana Scully, and I slip my hands over her warm skin 
and follow the elegant line of her back with my lips; I hear a low 
humming purr emanate from deep within her throat as I clue her in on 
the sequence of morning events which will serve to start our day. I 
know our game of One-upmanship has about run its course; I think we're 
going to call it a draw. Obviously we both won; there couldn't have 
been any losers in a game such as this. Doesn't mean I'll ever stop 
trying to out-do myself in the category of 'Pleasing my Partner'. I 
like that game too much to just quit cold-turkey. I don't mind having 
that sort of addiction known; hell, I'm rather proud of it. So proud, 
in fact, that I feel the need to indulge; it's still early in the day 
and Scully has finally raised her head and begun kissing me back.

Where she chooses to kiss me is what makes the game such a trip to 
play... I would highly recommend it. Very highly... God, yes.

End