From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: 16 Feb 2005 01:26:16 -0000 Subject: Perchance to Dream (NC-17) by OKayVal Source: direct Reply To: okayval@yahoo.com Title: Perchance to Dream Author: OKayVal Email: okayval@yahoo.com Website: http://donnilee.tripod.com/okayval Rating: NC-17 Archive: Honored; just tell me where Category: RST, Post-Ep Pairings: Mulder/Scully Spoilers: Sleepless Disclaimer: Not mine, you know the drill. Summary: Crossing the bridge between sleep and dreams. Scenes and post-ep for Sleepless. Written for Fandomonium's "Virtual Season of Smut-- Season 2" Challenge; you can find the rest of these great stories here: http://www.fandomonium.com/challenges/xffics/vss2.htm Thanks to Fando for another fun challenge, and boxes of chocolate to Tali for always keeping me on track. "My soul is so thirsty I can't sleep at night She walks in my dreams and brings me delight" --Joe Ely, "Ranches and Rivers"-- *** He hates New York. Memories of a bad hotel, a bad case, a bad woman, creep around inside his head. This time, at least he's here about an X-File, but he's working with the wrong partner. He paces the hospital corridor. Two police officers have somehow shot each other and their suspect has escaped. He has a theory, and he should be discussing it with his partner. But he doesn't want to share his thoughts with Krycek, who is at the end of the corridor with the doctors and the other police officers. There is only one person he wants to talk to right now, the only person who will listen to him. If he's right, she's already read the report he faxed her. He dials his cell phone, comforted immediately by the sound of her voice when she answers: "Scully." Of course she's read the report. She's somewhat skeptical about the sleep eradication thing, but he's learned to appreciate the way she challenges him -- supportive but never disrespectful. He misses her. He hears a loud noise behind him; Krycek raps on the nurses' station to get his attention. "I'll be right there, Krycek," he replies. Scully hears him and wonders where he is going. "We're gonna check out another member of the squad and see if he can tell us anything about Cole." "Sounds like your new partner's working out," she says, her tone somewhat wistful. Is she jealous? Intrigued, he plays along. "He's all right," he tells her. "He could use a little more seasoning and some wardrobe advice. But he's a lot more open to extreme possibilities than..." She cuts him off, thinking she knows what he's going to say: "Than I was?" "Than I assumed he would be," he replies, smiling. He wishes he could see her face right now. "Must be nice not having someone question your every move, poking holes in all your theories." She's teasing him, but he senses that she's probing a little, too. "Oh yeah, it's--it's great. I'm surprised I put up with you so long." He hopes she can tell he's teasing her back. She pauses, then tells him he should get going. He's still smiling as he hangs up. There were things left unsaid, but he definitely senses a slight fissure in the wall that Scully puts around herself. *** They meet in the basement, near the X-Files office which they no longer share. Familiar territory. They speak in hushed tones, and she is so close to him that he feels her gentle breath on his skin. He is not surprised to hear that her copy of the report is missing, too. But it worries him that they were bold enough to break into her office for it. It's distressing to hear that his informant's warning was on target, and he decides to level with Scully about it. Her eyes widen when she learns he's actually met with this man. "He said that closing down the X-Files was just the beginning. That we've never been in greater danger," he admits to her. "Do you trust him?" she asks. He looks around, as though his answer will bring their foes out from behind the file boxes. The informant obviously knows of his association with Deep Throat, and he seems to have his own reasons for continuing to help. But trust? *I trust you, Scully. Only you*. "I don't know, Scully. You saw the report. I'm sure he's the person that shoved the newspaper article under my door, which is what led me to this case in the first place, but..." A door opens and he falls silent and motions for her to move away from him when he hears footsteps drawing closer. She turns and walks away from him, and he stares sadly at her retreating form. *** Krycek insists on handling the paperwork for the Cole case, so he is left with nothing more to do but return to transcribing surveillance tapes. He gnaws on sunflower seeds and stares at the spinning reels on the tape machine. His phone rings, and it's a welcome respite; at this moment, he wouldn't mind if it was someone from accounting calling to complain about his expenses. But he was not expecting the pleasant surprise of Scully's voice. "Mulder, we never finished our conversation." "Not over the phone, Scully." "I know. I was thinking maybe we could meet later, and talk over dinner," she says, somewhat quickly. "Dinner? You mean, like normal people? What's wrong with the basement? I thought that was a step up from the parking garage." "Yes, like normal people," she says. "It's much less suspicious than whispering in corners, don't you think?" She has a point. And he rather likes the idea of having dinner with her. She seems to have this already planned out; she names a restaurant and a time, and he hangs up and chews thoughtfully on a seed. *** The restaurant she's chosen is unfamiliar to him, and far enough from both the Hoover and Quantico to lessen their chances of running into anyone from the FBI. It's neither trendy nor cheesy, but comfortable, with a fireplace and roomy booths that offer privacy. She's waiting for him at the entrance, and she breaks into a small smile when she spots him strolling up the sidewalk. Was she afraid he wasn't going to show up? Not a chance. They ask for a booth in the back, to try and get as much privacy as possible. He sits facing the door; old habits die hard. She orders a glass of wine and he does the same, while trying to recall if they have ever actually dined out like this before. Dinners on the road have usually been in coffee shops, or fast food gobbled on the run, or in the car during long and tedious stakeouts. It's nice to be able to sit and relax with her. He studies her across the table, sipping her wine. She really is beautiful; those blue eyes and striking hair. She probably thinks he hasn't noticed, that he thinks of her as a scientist or an FBI agent, rather than a woman. But he has noticed. "I'm still thinking about what was done to Augustus Cole and the others, Mulder. The fact that they hadn't slept once in 24 years. I can't imagine what it's like, never being able to sleep." "I can, sort of," he says. She raises an eyebrow at his comparison. "Mulder, I know you can't sleep sometimes, but it's not the same." "Well, I haven't gone 24 years, that's true, but constant wakefulness is a weird state to be in. I have experienced something similar, I think. Unlike you, who has the ability to doze off whenever I'm at my most fascinating." He smiles, trying to lighten the mood. He knows she wants to talk about the case, but he's enjoying the informal setting more and wants to see if he can make her laugh. She smiles back at him. Their food arrives, and he jokes with the waiter and, much to his delight, succeeds in producing a laugh from Scully. He's captivated by the sound and wishes he could hear it more often. She grows quiet and watches him, and he realizes he's been caught staring. "Mulder, what are you thinking about?" "Does this feel like a date to you, Scully?" Her cheeks flush and he suspects it's not just from the wine. "It's just dinner, Mulder." "We're not partners anymore, Scully. There's no rule against dating another agent, is there?" "No," she admits, looking at him steadily. "Do you want this to be a date?" "That depends on whether you're having a good time or not." She smiles. "You're my friend, Mulder. I enjoy being with you." Her words deflate him, just a little. "But that's it?" She pauses, but he holds her gaze. "Well--" she begins, but the waiter interrupts and instead of finishing, she grabs the check and studies it intently. He realizes she's lost her nerve and he's afraid to push her, because he knows that wall will come up; the one she seems to hide her true feelings behind. Instead he pulls out his wallet so that they can split the bill and avoid any further discussion about whether this evening was anything more than a dinner between friends. *** He walks her to her car, and there's an awkward silence when she says goodnight and looks at him with eyes pale blue like starlight. He opens her car door and she slides in, but just before she closes it, he reaches to take her hand and gives it a tight squeeze. She squeezes back and they stand like that for a moment, until he loosens his grip and she slides her hand out and closes the door. He returns to his apartment and tries to relax, but he's too restless and he knows this is going to be one of those sleepless nights. He strips off his suit and dons a pair of worn sweatpants. He slumps on his couch, aimlessly flicking the buttons on the TV remote. Nothing holds his interest for very long. He looks at the lopsided stack of video tapes, but there is only one thing he wants to see right now and it's not on those tapes. It's the way Scully was looking at him across the dinner table, and the way she looked at him just before she got into her car. He can tell when a woman wants to be kissed, and he kicks himself for not pulling her into his arms and taking full advantage of the moment. He's a goddamned idiot. He wishes he had Cole's ability to alter people's dreams. He knows about the bridge between sleep and wakefulness; if he knew how to cross it, he would sneak into Scully's dreams. He closes his eyes and imagines her lying in her bed. What is she wearing--a nightgown? He remembers seeing pajamas in her suitcase once. He pictures his hands, reaching for her, slipping the pajamas--silk pajamas--from her body. He can almost feel it, the smooth silk of the fabric and the smoother silk of her skin. He sees her eyes grow dark, and then he leans forward to kiss her, all over, until he feels her writhing, moaning. Then a new feeling; her hands on him. Soft, tiny hands, running across his bare chest, small fluttery sparks on his skin, lighting a fuse that runs directly to his groin. Suddenly, her hands at his waist, untying the cord of his sweatpants, pushing them down, past his hips, seeking out his erection. Skin on skin. Her skin, dusted with freckles; he imagines she has them everywhere. She feels like liquid in his arms, warm and supple. Her breasts are luscious and he captures one of her tight nipples in his mouth. He can hear her moans and whimpers in his ears so clearly, it's as though she's really here. His lips slowly travel down her body, until they reach her center, and he catches the scent of her--musky, wet, and all for him. He slips his tongue inside to sample the sweet taste of her. She moans again; the sound is so real, so true. He licks and nips at her clit and her hands grab his hair, urging him to keep going, and he does, until she shudders against his mouth and comes. He rides the wave with her, and when she stops trembling he raises his head to look at her. He knows that this is only a dream, but she's never looked more radiant, and he wants to know what it feels like to be inside her when she comes. He moves over her tiny frame and she raises her hips until his cock is poised at her entrance. His eyes lock onto hers, and he watches them turn the color of midnight as he slides into her. She's so small, he's afraid of crushing her, so he braces himself on his elbows and moves slowly at first, but she arches against him, wanting more. He thrusts further, until he's completely sheathed in her wet heat. So hot, so real. He moves harder, faster, until she vibrates beneath him. He watches her eyes glowing with her pleasure, and he surrenders deliriously to his own. When he can finally open his eyes, he's a little shocked to find that he's not in Scully's apartment after all, but still alone on his own couch. His sweatpants are bunched around his ankles, but he doesn't remember pushing them down. His cock is wet and sticky, but his hands are dry. How did he come without touching himself? He licks his lips, tasting her. Scully. No--it's not really possible, is it? Yet, he's never had a dream that intense before, not one that ended in a climax so powerful that he's unable to stay awake a moment longer; sleep takes him, heavy and dreamless, this time. *** At work the next day, he can't get the visions of her out of his mind. Unable to concentrate on the surveillance tapes, he listens to the same sentence six times before he can comprehend what he's hearing. He's so distracted, it takes him a few moments to notice that his phone is ringing. Hearing Scully's voice on the other end, he tries to act as if everything is normal and he hasn't spent his morning fantasizing about her. "Hey, Scully. What's up?" "Can I see you later?" "Another dinner date? People will talk." "They already do, Mulder. Look, it's important." "Is everything ok, Scully?" "Yes, everything's fine." Oh-oh. Everything is *not* fine. "I just don't want to talk about it over the phone," she continues. "I thought that you could pick up dinner and bring it over to my apartment." "You're requesting fast food? How can I refuse an invitation like that?" "7:30, ok? See you later." He hangs up, feeling more and more puzzled. Two phone calls from Scully, two days in a row. And what can't she talk about over the phone? Her voice was steady, but he detected something else there. He looks at his watch and wonders if Cole also had the power to speed up time; right now that ability would be really useful. *** He arrives at her door right on time, pizza in hand. She answers his knock and ushers him in. She's dressed casually, although her demeanor is anything but; she looks slightly nervous. He sets the pizza on the coffee table and she starts toward the kitchen, but he grabs her arm and pulls her over to the couch. "Sit down, Scully, and tell me what is going on." She sits very still, then turns to him, slowly. Her eyes have a pale glow and she looks at him levelly. "I had the strangest dream last night. It was so real, Mulder, so vivid. Like it was really happening to me." He feels a sudden chill. "What was it about?" She drops her gaze for a moment and then looks back at him, and her eyes are even brighter. "Someone--was--making love to me." Her voice is hushed. His throat tightens, as does his groin. *Oh my god*. "Was--was it someone you know?" "Yes." His hands tremble, but he closes them into fists and takes a deep breath. Her face is flushed, her lips parted. "Did you want him to?" "Yes, I did. I do." Her voice is still a whisper, but it's as though she shouted the words to him. Reaching for her, drawing her close, he finds no resistance, so he captures her moist lips with his own. And it's real, more than real, like his dream but better, so much better. Her hands, mouth and tongue are his to savor and he devours every inch of her that he can reach. Clothes are tugged and shed, and he again feels the smoothness of her heated skin against his own. She pulls him with her as she sinks back into the cushions of her sofa, and soon he is moving over her, thrusting inside her. Her moans in his ear ring loud and sweet, and oh, so familiar. There is nothing else for him now but the way she feels and the way she moves beneath him. She begins to shudder, and he strokes harder, prolonging her pleasure; watching her unravel again sends his own release rushing through him. *** Afterwards, lying together on her couch, he lazily trails his fingers across her arm as he returns to himself and waits for her breathing to slow. "I guess sometimes dreams really do come true. Eh, Scully?" He's definitely getting the hang of making her laugh, he thinks, even as he dodges the small, square pillow that's making a beeline for his head. *** Finis *** Feedback welcomed. It's all good!