Subject: NEW: 'Mulder and Scully' (1/2) by Catwoman
Classification: V, A, MSR, hopefully H
Keywords: Mulder/Scully Romance
Rating: PG-13 (suggestion of sexual activity, some language)

Mulder and Scully
By Catwoman
<TheCatwoman@toosexyforyou.com>

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully are not mine, but instead belong to Chris 
Carter, 1013 productions, and Fox Broadcasting.  The song, however, 
belongs to Catatonia.

Distribute: Wherever.  Just tell me where it's going, please.

Spoilers: Whatever.  Anything and everything, basically.  Some movie stuff.

WARNING: MSR construction ahead!

Note: A few months ago, my friend Margi and I were having a discussion 
about our current music tastes, and she asked me if I'd ever heard 'Mulder
 
and Scully' by Catatonia, a small Welsh pop band that I'd never even heard
 
of.  I still haven't heard the whole song, but I do have the lyrics, and, of
 
course, I have an obligation to use them in a fanfic, so...here it is!

Note 2: I had originally decided to do something like my usual fare with
 this 
one, but I've just read Dawson E. Rambo's 'Assignment' series and that 
reminded me of a story called 'Demons In The Night' by The Lone Gungirl 
that I really loved about M&S e-mailing each other and sharing secrets.  So
 
I've decided to try my hand at the e-mail portion of fanficking. <g>  Hope
 it 
comes out okay.  

Note 3: You should probably pay really close attention to both the subject
 
lines of the e-mails herein as well as the general bulk.  

P.S. on the Notes: For those of you who don't know, <g> means <gryn>, 
<bg> means <big gryn>, <vbg> means <very big gryn>, <vbeg> means 
<very big enigmatic gryn>...you can probably figure out the rest of the 
symbols from there, right?

Dedication: This is dedicated to Margi Kleinjan (Alisha) for telling me of
the 
existence of this song.

Summary: Mulder and Scully discover the wonders of e-mail.  

*****
I'd rather be liberated, I find myself captivated
Stop doing what you . . . Keep doing it too . . .
I'd rather stay bold and lonely, I dream I'm your one and only
Stop doing what you . . . Keep doing it too . . .
*****

Part One: My Out Of Style Is Coming Back

~~~~~
To: D_Scully@FBI.gov
From: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
Subject: Time to whine

Scully, I'm really, *really* bored.  Help me out here.

Mulder
~~~~~

Dana Scully had just been getting comfortable with the pile of expense 
reports that had accumulated on the itty bitty little table her partner
liked to 
call her desk when an insidious and totally unfamiliar disjointed female
voice 
spoke directly from her laptop computer, proclaiming almost excitedly, 
"You've got mail," in a voice that said to Scully a somewhat different 
message: 'Oh look, someone decided to try and make you feel better because
 
you HAVE NO LIFE.'  Frowning angrily at being disturbed by something so 
out of the ordinary, Scully reached over and uploaded her mail program.  

"Mulder, do you remember my computer having that horrid 'you've got 
mail' message before?" she asked distractedly as she moved into her inbox.

She didn't receive an answer from her partner, who was busy making an 
immaculate paper airplane out of the progress report on their division which
 
Skinner had sent down.

He almost smiled to himself at the sudden upward jerk of Scully's head in
 his 
direction as she saw that her message was from him.  Her eyes rested on him
 
only a brief moment, however, before curiosity overtook her and she opened
 
the message.  

She read over it quickly, and lifted her eyes to him again.

"But Mulder..." she began, confused, and he hurriedly shushed her, finally
 
looking up at her as his finger brushed over his lips.  She hushed
 instantly, 
staring at him like he'd gone loco.  He gestured emphatically towards her 
laptop, and she watched him for a moment, sighed, and poised her fingers 
over the keyboard.  A moment later, his computer informed him, silently, 
unlike Scully's, that he had new mail.

~~~~~
To: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
From: D_Scully@FBI.gov
Subject: Why are we doing this?

Mulder, I'm right across the room from you.  Why do you insist on e-mail?

Scully
~~~~~

He smiled to himself as he typed in his reply.  A moment later the damned 
voice on her computer spoke up again.

"Mulder, I'm sure it didn't do that before," she said, and this time her
 tone 
was accusing.  He shook his head again, gesturing to her computer.  She 
frowned at him, tossed her head to get a few stray strands of red out of her
 
way, and tackled the laptop again.

~~~~~
To: D_Scully@FBI.gov
From: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
Subject: Because, smartypants

Scully, you're so uptight!  What side of the bed did you roll out of this 
morning?  <g>  Meanwhile, think of it this way: we can say anything on e-
mail.  None of the potential bugs in this room can pick it up.  Not to 
mention, we can say anything to each other and not worry about the 
repercussions, if you know what I mean.  Get it?

Mulder
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
From: D_Scully@FBI.gov
Subject: What did you call me!?!?

Mulder, you're so immature.  And no, I don't think I know what you mean 
by 'repercussions.'  Perhaps you'd better illuminate me.

Scully
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: D_Scully@FBI.gov
From: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
Subject: Look up, look way up...

INCOMING, SCULLY!!!!!!!!!!!!DUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mulder

P.S. It's all explained in there, Scully.
~~~~~

Scully checked her e-mail just in time to see the paper airplane he'd built
 
heading across the room, straight towards her.  Letting out a tiny peep of
 
surprise, she caught it deftly in two hands.  He grinned at her from across
the 
room, and she wondered why he was in such a good mood while she stared 
down at the paper airplane.

'It's all explained in there,' he'd said.  In the airplane?  Frowning
slightly, she 
unfolded the airplane and flattened it on her desk.  Mulder had drawn a 
happy face on the paper, and underneath, in his chicken-scratch scrawl, was
 
written, 'Get confident, stupid.'  An old slogan, a favorite slogan of nerds
 
and weirdos.  Pursing her lips tightly, Scully checked the other side of the
 
paper.  As she'd suspected, he'd totally destroyed Skinner's report.  

She turned to her laptop.

~~~~~
To: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
From: D_Scully@FBI.gov
Subject: What the hell?

Okay, Mulder, you've got me.  'Get confident, stupid'?  Cute, Mulder, but 
what does it have to do with the fact that you're suddenly obsessed with the
 
idea of e-mail instead of real talk?  I know that line you fed me about
bugs in 
this room isn't it...or at least all of it.  

Scully
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: D_Scully@FBI.gov
From: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
Subject: I got you, babe...

Scully, come on, you're the most intelligent person I know.  THINK about 
it.

Mulder

P.S. Think 'repercussions,' Scully.  Repercussions.  What thoughts does that
 
word bring to mind?  And 'confidence.'  Think about that one, too.
~~~~~

Scully balled her hands into fists when her computer chimed again.  

"That's it," she began, thoroughly annoyed.  "You rigged my computer, 
didn't you?  You rigged it so you could play this little game..."

He once again cut her off, this time with an insistence throat-cutting
gesture 
at himself.  He kept his eyes glued to his computer.  

"All right, Mulder, fine.  Whatever.  I'll play your game, for now.  But if
this 
keeps going on for long, you're getting this damned voice *off* my computer.=
  
Are we clear?"

Mulder simply grinned to himself, so she let out an impatient breath and 
turned to her e-mail.

~~~~~
To: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
From: D_Scully@FBI.gov
Subject: What is wrong with you?

You know, Mulder, sometimes you really piss me off.

Scully
~~~~~

She watched with contempt as his grin widened.

~~~~~
To: D_Scully@FBI.gov
From: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
Subject: I think I just got really turned on.

See, Scully, that's exactly what I mean!  You would never have said that to
 
my face!  

Mulder

P.S. See, isn't this fun?
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
From: D_Scully@FBI.gov
Subject: Sure.  Fine.  Whatever.

I would too say it to your face!

Scully
~~~~~

"Oh yeah?" Mulder said, speaking for the first time in several hours.  He 
lifted his eyes to watch her from across the room, and the dark note in his
 
voice perfectly complimented the deep challenge in his eyes.  He waited in
 
silence while she slowly lifted her eyes to him, and he watched in amusement
 
as the anger in her eyes crumbled under the weight of his stare behind his
 
glasses.  He'd always known she found him especially desirable in his
glasses.  
"Come on, Scully, don't make me wait all day, here.  I'm waiting to hear it.=
  
To my face.  You said you would."

She stared at him, looking defeated.  She opened her mouth several times, 
but no words would come out.  So finally, desperate, she turned to her 
laptop, and he heard her madly typing away.

~~~~~
To: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
From: D_Scully@FBI.gov
Subject: Okay...

I'm...not angry anymore.

Scully
~~~~~

Smiling, he returned his eyes to his laptop.

~~~~~
To: D_Scully@FBI.gov
From: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
Subject: Told you so. <g>

It was the glasses, wasn't it.  It's always the glasses.  <vbeg>

Mulder
~~~~~

Scully paled visibly as she read that e-mail, and her eyes flitted
hesitantly to 
glance at him.  She immediately looked away, and almost flinched when she 
heard him insistently tapping on his keyboard.

~~~~~
To: D_Scully@FBI.gov
From: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
Subject: I knew it. :->

Come on, Scully, quit holding out on me.  This is precisely why I'm playing
 
this 'game' with you as you put it.  Why I told you e-mail is easier.  We
 can 
say things we can't say to each other's faces.  Talk to me, Scully.
Honestly, 
for once.

Mulder
~~~~~

Scully read over the e-mail, feeling something inside her giving way as she
did 
so.  She stared at the screen, feeling immensely lighter all of a sudden.

~~~~~
To: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
From: D_Scully@FBI.gov
Subject: I hate you.

How do you manage to put your hurt puppy dog expression across in *e-
mail*, for God's sakes?  You should know by now that I'll give you anything
 
when you make that expression.  And I don't know how, but that's the image
 
I got from your last e-mail.  (sigh)  All right, I'm listening.  I'm
 talking.

Scully

P.S. It was the glasses.  I'll concede to the glasses.
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: D_Scully@FBI.gov
From: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
Subject: No you don't.  You don't hate me.  

Now that's what I want to hear. <g>  Sorry about the puppy dog thing, 
Scully...purely unintentional.  I assure you though, I have learned over our
 
five years together to push the glasses to their maximum potential.  ; )

Mulder
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
From: D_Scully@FBI.gov
Subject: You know what I like. <bg>

Oh really.  Tell me more.  How else have you learned to manipulate me 
without my knowledge over the years?

Scully
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: D_Scully@FBI.gov
From: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
Subject: Now you're just avoiding the subject. (<g> Get it, 'subject'?)

Hm, let me count the ways.  Where would you like me to start?

Mulder
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
From: D_Scully@FBI.gov
Subject: What subject? 


Where would you like to start?  I'm at a loss.

Scully
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: D_Scully@FBI.gov
From: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
Subject: *That* subject.

I bet you are. <g>  Well, how about if we start with touch?  I have learned,=
 
over the years, that there are certain places which are still safe to touch
that 
are more sensitive to you than others.  There are certain ways that I can
place 
my hand at the small of your back to make you relax.  I also know of ways to
 
place my hand at the small of your back which make you immensely 
uncomfortable.  This knowledge is helpful because I can now avoid doing so.
 
There, we've covered your back.  Do you want me to go on?

Mulder
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
From: D_Scully@FBI.gov
Subject: *What* subject?

Go on.  Tell me how I like to be touched.

Scully
~~~~~

Mulder glanced up at her from across the office to find her relaxed in her
 
office chair, still sitting straight but a good deal less tense than the
last time 
he'd checked on her.  She was slightly pink in the cheeks, suggesting that
he'd 
gotten to her, and he saw the consideration in her eyes that indicated that
she 
was thinking about what he'd said.  She also looked happy, or at least a
little 
more satisfied than she had a moment before.

~~~~~
To: D_Scully@FBI.gov
From: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
Subject: You said you hated me.  I told you that you don't.

There is a place in the palm of your hand that makes you shiver when my 
fingers brush it.  I've felt the itch in your fingertips to touch mine
sometimes.  
You don't like me to touch your legs or your arms, and basically your whole
 
upper torso is off limits.  That would be too personal for a mere partner.
It 
makes you uncomfortable, even to think about.  You hate anyone, including 
yourself, to touch the back of your neck.  Too much has happened there.  
You are glad that it's hidden by your hair; that no one has to see the scar.=
  
It's so tiny no one could really see it anyway, but in your mind, it's huge
and 
ugly.  I've seen it that way too.

Mulder

P.S. Is this making you uncomfortable, Scully?  I never meant for that to 
happen.
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
From: D_Scully@FBI.gov
Subject: Oh yeah, right.  That.  So, I don't hate you, hey?

I didn't know you realized how sensitive I am, physically.  I think I was
more 
comfortable not knowing.  But then again, it's touching to know that you 
notice so many things...I didn't realize you paid any attention.  I
thought...I 
thought a lot of things, but one of the major ones was that you didn't see
 me 
as anything but your work partner.  

I especially...you never...I mean, you always seemed not to care
 particularly 
about the implant...I thought you didn't understand the implications, or
 that 
it just wasn't important to you.  But you say that...it disturbs you too?

Scully

P.S. Yes, this is making me distinctly uncomfortable.  But don't stop.  
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: D_Scully@FBI.gov
From: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
Subject: No, you don't hate me.  You love me.

Of course I realized, Scully.  Of course I notice the details.  Yes, you're
my 
work partner, but you're also my friend and my...(insert something other 
than a trite cliche here, please)...my world.  What else would I notice?
 
You're all I have, Scully.  All that's left with any substance.  You're my
 
everything, basically.

Scully, I know I've seemed callous and uncaring about the implant.  Both of
 
them.  I understand the implications, and it not only disturbs me...it
terrifies 
me.  That's why I try to push it away, Scully...you know me.  If I can't
 deal 
with something, I pretend it's not there, that it's not happening.  I break
 
down.  That *thing* in your neck scares me so damn much...I've just never 
known what to feel, what to say, how to react in front of you.  At home I
 get 
angry and punch my couch, or I go to the track and run it off.  I have 
nightmares.  But with you...

Mulder
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
From: D_Scully@FBI.gov
Subject: ...What did you say?

Mulder...do you remember what I almost did the last time you made a 
confession to me like that?  (Think bees, and the hallway outside your 
apartment.)

You shouldn't have to react any differently with me, Mulder.  You should 
have told me.  It helps me more than you could ever know to know that you 
care, that you've cared all along...

Scully
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: D_Scully@FBI.gov
From: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
Subject: You heard me.  You love me.

I remember.

I care.  I always have.  I'm sorry I didn't tell you before.  Now you know
why 
I love e-mail so much...there's so much to say, and no courage to say it
 face 
to face.  I'm sorry.

Mulder
~~~~~

*****
Things are getting strange, I'm starting to worry
This could be a case for Mulder and Scully
Things are getting strange, now I can't sleep alone
*****

END PART ONE

Part Two: Strangest One Of All

***** 
My bed is made for two and there's nothing I can do
So tell me something I don't know
If my head is full of you is there nothing I can do?
Must we all march in two by two by two?
*****

<<<Last Time In 'Mulder And Scully' (<g> just kidding)>>>
~~~~~
To: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
From: D_Scully@FBI.gov
Subject: ...What did you say?

Mulder...do you remember what I almost did the last time you made a 
confession to me like that?  (Think bees, and the hallway outside your 
apartment.)

You shouldn't have to react any differently with me, Mulder.  You should 
have told me.  It helps me more than you could ever know to know that you 
care, that you've cared all along...

Scully
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: D_Scully@FBI.gov
From: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
Subject: You heard me.  You love me.

I remember.

I care.  I always have.  I'm sorry I didn't tell you before.  Now you know
why 
I love e-mail so much...there's so much to say, and no courage to say it face 
to face.  I'm sorry.

Mulder
~~~~~
>>>(And now, on with the rest of the story...)<<<

*****
I'd rather be jumping ship, I find myself jumping straight in
Stop doing what you . . . Keep doing it too . . .
Forever be dozy and dim, I wake myself thinking of him
Stop doing what you . . . Keep doing it too . . .
*****

~~~~~
To: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
From: D_Scully@FBI.gov
Subject: I love you?  How do I love you, Mulder?

How do you remember it?  With sadness?  With shame?  With regret?  I need 
to know.

I know how you feel.  It's taking what feels like the last of my courage to 
write this e-mail to you.  You don't need to be sorry.  We're both completely 
human; it's natural to be afraid to get close to one another, especially when 
you're in a line of work like ours.

Scully
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: D_Scully@FBI.gov
From: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
Subject: As a partner, as a friend...I don't know, Scully.

Regret.  I remember it with regret.  Do you know why?  Because that damn 
bee stung you and broke the spell.  I doubt we'll ever work up the courage to 
get that far again.

And it's not just about our work, Scully...that's the least of my concerns.  
I'm afraid of rejection and being hurt and losing someone I care about.  
You're afraid to let me know that you have real emotions; that you're not 
invulnerable and invincible as you'd like to be.

Mulder
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
From: D_Scully@FBI.gov
Subject: Yes, you do know.  Tell me.  How do you believe I love you, 
Mulder?

I regret that the spell was broken too.  But regret isn't the only thing I
feel.  
Do you only remember it with regret?

You know me better than I'd ever imagined.  I'll freely admit that your 
claims are true, but only in this e-mail.  You would never hear an admission 
like that from my lips.  That would be a weakness; it would go against my 
code of silence.

Scully

P.S. This entire thing goes against my code of silence, but it's easier for
me to 
get past it this way.  Thank you, Mulder.  Thank you for introducing me to 
this game.
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: D_Scully@FBI.gov
From: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
Subject: You are my soul-mate.  You tell *me* how I believe you love me.

No, regret is not the only thing I feel when I remember that night.  I feel 
excitement over the prospect of overcoming my fears, and I feel aroused at 
the thought of kissing you.  (There, I finally said it.  The dreaded 'it'
we've 
been speaking of.  I almost kissed you, Scully.  I'll yell it.  I ALMOST 
KISSED YOU AND YOU ALMOST KISSED ME.  I'm proud of it.  It 
illuminated a lot of things for me.)  I feel...sad that it didn't happen.
I feel 
proud of the fact that I finally told you so much of the truth.  It was
difficult 
for me to allow myself to be desperate enough to leak so much emotional 
information to you, Scully, you know it was.

It's difficult now.

I *hate* your code of silence.  Don't you hate it?  It's so restricting, to
both 
of us.

Mulder

P.S. No really, thank you.  For playing the game, that is.
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
From: D_Scully@FBI.gov
Subject: Oh My God.

Yes, we almost kissed.  I'm glad you admitted it because I couldn't have done 
it by myself.  What did our near-kiss experience illuminate for you?  It 
illuminated many things for me, obviously.  

Yes, I *hate* my code of silence.  But I've spent a lifetime building it
and I 
don't know if I can destroy it.  Most of the time I don't want to.  I'd be 
naked without it.  Sometimes I wish my 'Goddamn strict rationalism', as you 
put it so succinctly, would go to hell, however.

Scully
P.S. This is wonderful.  We never *really* talk.
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: D_Scully@FBI.gov
From: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
Subject: Oh, I'm sorry, did I shock you?  (What, still?)

Until that moment, I had never truly allowed myself to believe that you 
might love me with the strength and passion that I love you...or even that 
you had any feelings at all for me, in that particular not-so-partner-like
kinda 
way.  Oh, I know there've been times when you and I have been hopelessly 
sexually attracted to each other, mostly in our first couple of years
together 
(mostly before the abduction made everything more serious).  And there've 
been times when you've looked at me a certain way, or said a certain thing, 
or used a certain tone of voice, that have made me believe that there was 
more to that attraction than just the fact that I'm a man and you're a woman 
and we work so closely together we'd both have to be severely unhealthy to 
not feel some sexual pull towards one another.  But until our 'near-kiss 
experience' (<g> Love that line---is it yours?), I'd never really allowed
myself 
to hope that you felt quite the way I did.  

As I said, I love your rationalism.  You just need to separate the
rationality 
of work and professionalism from the rationality of life and love.  Don't use 
your rationalism on yourself.  

Mulder

P.S. Yeah, isn't this great?  We never do talk, and we really should.  We're 
good together. <vbg>
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
From: D_Scully@FBI.gov
Subject: I'm stunned...I had no idea you knew...

 I was the same way.  Until you told me what you told me that night, and 
until we almost kissed each other, I'd never allowed myself to hope that 
maybe I wasn't alone in this feeling...

Are we talking about the love I think we're talking about here?

I know, Mulder, I know.  I know I shouldn't use my rationalism on myself.  
But the point is that I do, and I don't know how to stop!

Scully

P.S. We are. ; )
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: D_Scully@FBI.gov
From: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
Subject: Well, now you know.

You've never been alone, Scully.  Not the way you've always thought.  I just 
didn't have the courage to tell you that.  

What love do you think we're talking about?

I don't know how much I can help you.  I can only try and coax those 
emotions to come from you freely; to try and get rid of this insidious fear 
you feel which is so much stronger than mine.

Mulder

P.S. Scully, what are you wearing?
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
From: D_Scully@FBI.gov
Subject: Yes, I certainly do.  

I'm glad you've told me now.

I think we're talking about the supposed 'true love,' the 'I want to spend
the 
rest of my life with you' love...the...Mulder, I want to tell you now,
before I 
chicken out, that I've quite often had a dream.  In my dream, I'm in a warm 
pool of liquid, and it's a dark, comforting blue around me, and it's
pillowing 
me from all sides.  It's thick, and wet, and everything in the way it touches 
me arouses me to no end.  Then I see you, through the liquid, and you reach 
out for me, and I take your hand and you pull me to you, and abruptly 
everything explodes, and I climax in your arms.  You stay with me through 
it.  I'm never sure if the same thing happens to you; I only know that you're 
with me through my release.  Then something happens in the liquid, and 
suddenly I am with you, a part of you.  I've just sort of....melted into you, 
become a part of your body, your mind, your soul.  I've...never been 
happier, Mulder.  To just *be* you, to be a part of you and not have to face 
anything in this world but you...I would give up this existence for that.

How do you intend to do that?

Scully

P.S. Nothing. <bg>  Made you look.
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: D_Scully@FBI.gov
From: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
Subject: Dreams

I have had similar dreams, Scully.  I dream that we do not live in a
terrestrial 
existence; that our minds can meld easily at any time we want.  I dream that 
we are never apart; we are always one.  

Yes, we're talking about the kind of love you think we're talking about.  And 
on that ringing endorsement, I'll say this loud and proud: I love you, Dana 
Katherine Scully.  You are my partner, my friend, my one and only 
confidante, and my soul-mate.  I would love to make you my lover, if you 
would only accept me.  

If you will accept me, I intend to love you into submission. <g>

Mulder

P.S. I haven't had a chance to ask you yet...how do you like our new
office?  I 
attempted to have it decorated exactly like our old one.
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
From: D_Scully@FBI.gov
Subject: Lovers...the word is strange to my tongue.

Accept you?  *Accept* you?  Mulder, what do you think this is, a job 
interview?  For God's sake, I already *do* accept you!  I love you!  You've 
said it yourself, and you're right!  I LOVE YOU!  

And I'm shivering...

Scully

P.S. As you said, it's exactly like the old one.  In other words, I love
it. <g>
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: D_Scully@FBI.gov
From: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
Subject: Strange and new...but unacceptable?

You've loved me for a long time, and I have loved you for a long time.  It 
doesn't mean we've accepted each other as lovers.

Mulder

P.S. Are you coming onto me, Scully? <vbg>
P.P.S. Your new desk should be arriving later this week.
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
From: D_Scully@FBI.gov
Subject: Stop it.  Stop giving yourself guilt trip after guilt trip.  

Then you're asking if the concept is repugnant to me?  No, it's not.  It's 
frightening, but it's also what I've wanted for a very long time...

Scully

P.S. Yes. <g>
P.P.S. Oh, Mulder...come here...
~~~~~

~~~~~
To: F_Mulder@FBI.gov
From: D_Scully@FBI.gov
Subject: All right, that's it.

Okay, Scully, I can't take it anymore.  It's too much.  I just have to come 
over there and...RIP OUT THE THROAT OF THAT GODDAMNED 
VOICE ON YOUR COMPUTER!

Mulder

P.S. <gulp>
P.P.S. On my way. ;-}
~~~~~

Grinning like a fool, Scully lifted her head from the computer, meeting 
Mulder's grinning eyes as he thumped across the office and pushed in front 
of her, blocking her view of the computer as he very quickly deinstalled the 
chiming voice from her e-mail program.

"There, now we're alone together," he said ruefully as he stepped away from 
the computer.  Now he grew shy, keeping his eyes down and away from her 
as he carefully stepped back and away from her space, standing to the side.  
She watched him, seeing the heat in his cheeks at the weight of her stare.
She 
uncrossed her legs and stood, moving carefully as she stepped into his 
personal space, her body closing the distance to lean towards him.  They 
were inches apart now.

"Mulder," she said softly, and the sound of her voice after their lengthy 
silent conversation was to his ears what iced tea on a hot day was to his 
tongue.  He inhaled that sound fully, letting it seep into his veins and
claim 
him, and imagined rolling in it, bathing in it.  He lifted his eyes to meet
hers, 
and he felt his knees trembling at the radiant emotion he found within the 
cool colors of her irises.

"Scully, I..." he began hesitantly, but she hushed him softly, her lips
forming 
the sound as her finger brushed lightly over his mouth.  Her hand stayed on 
his face, tracing his jaw line.  The gentle pull in her fingers was
unmistakable, 
and he couldn't help leaning towards her as she lifted herself on her toes
and 
followed the trail of her fingers with her lips.  He sighed, taking a small
step 
closer to her and letting his hands slip to comfortably fall on her hips, 
holding her close around the waist.  She let out a small sigh of breath, and 
her lips touched the corner of his mouth.  

"Thank you," she whispered, and he smiled against her lips, returning the 
gesture.  She grinned, opening her eyes to look up at him.  He smiled back at 
her, and they simply looked at each other for a moment before he reached 
forward and pressed his lips over hers.  She sighed softly again and dropped 
to stand flat-footed.  He smiled and deepened the kiss, his tongue touching 
her lips, asking for entrance.  She gave it freely, opening her mouth and 
meeting his tongue with her own.  Her hands were tight around his waist, and 
his were comfortable around hers.  

"So what now?" he asked when she finally broke the kiss.

"Expense reports," she reminded him in a chiding tone, but she was smiling.  

He groaned and let her go, and she chuckled softly and sat down behind her 
desk.  Shaking his head, he made his way across the office to his own 
workspace.  

"Mulder," she called just after he sat down.  He glanced up at her.  She was 
smiling a tiny half-smile, a healthy dose of mischief in her eyes and in the 
half-cocked eyebrow she gave him.  "E-mail me tonight."

He grinned.

*****
And as for some happy ending, I'd rather stay single and thin
Stop doing what you . . . Keep doing to me 
*****
So what have you got to say about that?
And what does someone do without love?
And what does someone do with love?
And what have you got to say about that?
*****

THE END-Hope you had as much fun as I did. <g>

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