From: "Fiona Laurens" Date: Thu, 08 Jun 2000 21:51:25 EDT Subject: Maybe Tomorrow (1/1) by Fiona Laurens Source: direct Title: Maybe Tomorrow Author: Fiona Laurens Rating: PG Category: VRHA--fairly short, full of romance, with some humor and angst. Distribution Statement: Gossamer, sure. All others please tell me. Feedback: fionalaurens@hotmail.com Spoilers: Millennium Summary: Scully's POV just after midnight in "Millennium". Author's Notes: Please be kind to me, this is my first fanfic that I have actually finished and am pleased enough with to give to the eyes of other people. This was started on June 7th and was finished on June 8th, so it may not be too polished. All comments are welcome. Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully are not mine, they are owned by Chris Carter and his happy-go-lucky gang of meadow sprites (who are better known as Twentieth Century Fox and Ten Thirteen Productions.) To Chris Carter: my firstborn child will arrive shortly. :) Another new year. Hooray. I'm glad I get to share this with Mulder. I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach now... and Mulder is moving towards me? I look toward him. Oh, my God. He's kissing me. He's KISSING me. He tastes like... I don't know. Before I can find out, it's over. Damn. Why am I not smiling? He just did what I've wanted him to do for so long. "The world didn't end," he says. "No, it didn't." That's all I can say back?! I'm such a bitch. "Happy new year, Scully," he says perfunctorily, almost like he's trying to console me. I know he's disappointed. "Happy new year, Mulder," I reply. I'm so weak. Weak and stupid as he leads me out of the hospital. Sometimes I hate myself. XXXXXxxxxxXXXXXxxxxxXXXXXxxxxxXXXXXxxxxxXXXXXxxxxxXXXXXxxxxxXXXXX Mulder brings me home in silence, almost like a peace offering. I wish I was driving him home since he only has one arm to use. He walks me to my door and makes sure I have my keys before he turns to leave. Damn, he's being such a gentleman. I stand there for a moment, still. "Wait!" I yell, before I can even think. He freezes. Before he can turn around, I run over to him. He's only a few feet away. I'm exhausted. Maybe I could just try making it up to him later, maybe call him tomorrow and apologize my brains out... "Don't go yet," I beg. "What's wrong, Scully?" I've been waiting for him to ask ever since he kissed me. "Mulder, I..." "You what?" he asks, a little touchy. "Mulder, I don't want you to go yet." I put my arm around him and lead him toward my apartment. He lets me, unwillingly. "Scully, what do you want?" he asks. That's just what I'm trying to figure out. "Stay with me," I plead. "I want to talk to you." We stop halfway there. "Please, Scully..." "No, Mulder. Just for a few minutes. Please." My hand clings fearfully to his wrist. It's up to him--but he knows I need him to stay. He gives me a drained smile and lets me lead him to my apartment. That's good enough, for now anyway. The door shuts. "You kissed me," I say, a little more matter-of-factly than I intended. "Yeah. I did." He looks like the next words out of his mouth want to be 'can I go now?'. I can't have that. "Mulder, despite what I think I probably looked like..." "What?" This is so hard for me to say. I can feel a blush coming on. Oh, God. "I liked it. I did. The reason I didn't smile like I'd just been laid--" I feel my face grow so hot, I think I'll spontaneously combust. Great choice of words, Dana. I think I'm going to go shoot myself when this is all over. "--was because it ended too soon. I can't let you go quietly into the night and the new year thinking you're just worth a vague smile and a cold silence to me. You're so much more than that to me, Mulder, and I had to tell you that." Mulder looks like I just took a huge weight off his chest, freed him from confinement, issued him a reprieve from execution. He looks more beautiful than I have ever seen him before. He wants to smile. "Really?" I smile at him and nod. Thank God. He's forgiven me. He smiles back and puts his good arm around me. "Oh, Scully." He sighs happily. "I'm going to make it up to you." "How?" I'm confused. He cuts me off. With his tongue. Now I feel stupid. I let out a little involuntary moan that answers my own question, and his tongue just goes farther into my mouth. I've never gotten to real tongue-wrestling this fast with anyone. His arm keeps me close, and I have my own arms wrapped around him tightly. I never want to let him go. Then that's over. He smiles at me while I stare at him with wide eyes. Breathe, Dana, breathe, I have to say to myself to get my body to start working independently again. "Hey Mulder?" I finally gasp. "Yeah?" He smiles at my inability to get myself under control. "If you were always that great of a kisser..." His smile becomes wider as I say this. "...how come you never shared that talent with me before?" "I didn't know what you'd think," he says. "You could have found out like that!" He holds me closer. "I'm going to have to go soon." He leans down and kisses me again--this time just a soft, friendly kiss, but one that lasts. I don't want him to go. I wish he would stay the night at least. I'd like to keep him here forever but I know I can't do that, at least not right now, not yet. So I slowly let him go. He opens the door. "You shouldn't go home," I say suddenly. "It's late, there's probably a lot of a drunk drivers, you have all those drugs in your system, and you've only got one arm--you might not be able to defend yourself if you got in trouble." Why am I speaking so fast?! "Just take my couch. Please." He gets a devilish little spark in his eyes. "All right," he says, shutting the door. "If it'll put your mind at ease." I know he's happy to stay. "Thank you," I say, relieved. "You let me drive you home..." he muses. "But you won't let me take a taxi by myself." "When I'm with you, I'm there to defend you," I tease. "But I can't have you running around D.C. after midnight by yourself." He smiles at me. I get him a pillow and an extra blanket off my own bed and arrange the couch for him. He wants to help me but I won't let him, I like doing this. "I have a huge t-shirt you could sleep in," I suggest. "Okay." I leave him to get it. It's something of my own, a plain grey v-neck that almost reaches my knees when I'm wearing it--it's an XXL and somewhat stretched out besides. I sleep in it sometimes in the summer. I may never wash it again after he uses it. He holds it up when I hand it to him, inspecting it--"Thin, but it'll do," he says with approval. He gets the bathroom while I change into my pajamas. When I'm finished, I wait for him. He comes out wearing my shirt and his boxers--and it's just a regular sized shirt on him. His injured arm requires short sleeves, even though he might get cold in the night. I get him an extra blanket off my bed again, just in case. "Are you sure you won't get cold, Scully?" he says as he notices I only have a sheet left on my bed. "I'll be fine, Mulder," I say, trying to assure him as I quickly brush my teeth, even though I know I'll be freezing my ass off. He knows I'm going to be freezing, but he won't offer me either of my blankets back. I don't have any more. Bastard. I tuck him in, arranging the covers under his arms. He likes that. I wonder how often his mother tucked him in when he was little. Hardly ever, I bet. If she and his father had done more than a half-assed job of raising him, the poor boy... I can't think about that now. I run my fingers over his face, cherishing the features. He likes it when I do that. I finally stop, lean over, and give him a kiss on the cheek. "Happy new year, Mulder." "Happy new year, Scully," he says back. He means it this time. "Good night." "Good night." He gives me his boyish smile one last time before we part for the night. I turn out the lamp in my living room and let him sleep, going into my bedroom and shutting the door. This is one hell of a year already--what's it going to be like tomorrow? Who knew two friends could get so worked up about one little kiss between themselves? Or are we still friends? Perhaps Mulder and I have become something more now. But now it's too late to think about all that. I'm going to bed now. It's hard for me to imagine that I could sleep after this long day, but I am so very tired. I am so very tired. He could have died tonight. Hell, there are a million times over the past few years where he could have died, and I would never have kissed him. I'm so glad he kissed me now. And I'm so glad I caught up to him in time. I think we were on the verge of dying, of drifting apart, of changing irrevocably because of the kiss. I had to confess my emotions to him so that we could keep moving forward and moving together. Now he knows I care about him--really care about him, as more than just a regular friend or partner. I called him back to me when before I might have just left it to the next encounter, the next tear-stained confession of our love for each other, which incidentally never use the word "love". They have become routine for every time we feel our lives are really, really in danger. The kiss, however--that was not routine. I liked it. I think it's time we came to this next step. As soon as we figure out what exactly this next step is. I can't stop thinking about him. I like thinking about him, though. Almost as much as I enjoy his presence. As sleep comes to claim me, I wonder if he's thinking about me. I wonder when I should tell him how much I love him. Maybe tomorrow. ---The End---