From: To: Subject: Re: Knock (again) Date: Thursday, May 10, 2001 4:55 PM Title - Knock Author - Gnatalie E-mail - HollywdBabylon@aol.com Spoilers - Per Manum Rating - NC-17 Classification - SRA. Missing scene, I suppose. Summary - He shouldn't have had that last shot, and he shouldn't have knocked, and he should never come to Scully's after he'd been drinking. Distribution - With permission only, please. Disclaimer - These characters are owned by Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions, and Twentieth Century Fox. Knock by Gnatalie Mulder couldn't believe how dense Scully was. She really thought he'd father a child with her just to be a good friend. No. If Scully's motives for wanting him to father her child were selfish, or desperate, then his motives for agreeing were worse. Downright underhanded. He would have fathered her child so he could be a father to her child. He would have fathered her child so she would be tied to him for life. Ball and chain? He wouldn't have cared if it was attached to her ankle, or his, or both. Scully had no idea. When he'd gone to donate his sperm, he was offered girlie magazines and videotapes, but he politely refused. He had a picture of Scully in his pocket. And it wasn't even a good picture, at that. He was in and out of that office in twenty minutes. Wham, bam, you're welcome, ma'am. When it didn't work, he was as disappointed as she. Not only because they'd have no baby, but because he wouldn't have her; she'd slip out of his reach in her grief and he'd never have her. He felt like an asshole. He should feel empathy for her right now, but he just felt sorry for himself. It wasn't just her last chance; it was his, too. He'd cheerfully kill those responsible for making tears fall from her eyes. He didn't want a baby as much as she did. But she didn't want him as much as he wanted her. They were a perfect match, since neither of them was getting what they really wanted. He could have some other woman, he supposed, and she could adopt a baby. She seemed to want to have her own, if possible. And he only wanted her. If possible. And he thought his life was fucked up before he met her. *** He shouldn't knock. He knew he shouldn't. Scully hated him when he was drunk. But even though he knew that, he also knew that he loved her when he was drunk, and she needed to know it. He loved her when he was sober, too, but when he was sober she didn't need to know it as badly. He knocked. Where did she buy such ugly pajamas, he wondered. They looked like K-Mart men's pajamas, and they were miles too long for her so she'd rolled up the bottoms. Why wasn't she wearing some little strappy red thing? Well, it didn't much matter, because the effect of the imaginary little strappy red thing would be negated by the mean look on her face. He shouldn't have knocked. But he was already inside and she hadn't said a word and she was already making coffee. Scully looked as tired as he was drunk. She looked blurry, but he knew she wasn't really blurry and that it was only his drunk eyes that made her look that way, all smudged and trailing behind herself when she moved. She hadn't said anything to him, and he didn't think he'd said anything to her, either. She'd just let him in, like he was her wet dog at the back door. He was about to get on his hind legs and beg. "Scully," he said, and he didn't think he slurred so he was proud of himself. "Scully." "Yes, Mulder, we've already established who we are," she said. He knew that if he wasn't drunk there would be another meaning to that. "Why'd you let me in?" he asked. "If you didn't want to come in, you shouldn't have knocked." "Why are those pajamas so ugly?" He probably could have phrased that better. "Their attractiveness is in direct negative correlation to how comfortable they are," she said. "Would something red and silky be really really uncomfortable? Because if I had a choice--" and she interrupted him and it was a good thing. "You don't have a choice as to what I sleep in, Mulder." "But I know what you should sleep in, Scully," he said. "And what's that?" He thought she was smiling, but he wasn't sure. "My arms." Damn. He was really good. That was the exact right thing to say, and he'd actually said it when it needed to be said, instead of mulling it over in the cab home. It had been the right thing to say, but he didn't know if she would slap him or kiss him or what. She just stood there a second, in her ugly blue pajamas from K-Mart, holding a spoon in her hand, and she looked like she was going to cry but he couldn't tell, through his drunk eyes, if she was going to cry happy or cry sad or cry angry. So he said it again. "You should sleep in my arms, Scully. Because I'm in love with you, and even if we can't have a baby I want to sleep in bed with you at night and have coffee in the morning instead of two-thirty, and you need to take off those ugly pajamas so I can keep you warm instead." He thought he might throw up now. He'd said things he only ever said in his head, but he'd said them out loud. He shouldn't have had that last shot, and he shouldn't have knocked, and he should never come to Scully's after he'd been drinking. Coffee never helped when he was drunk. He didn't need to be more awake. He needed to be more asleep. "No coffee," he said. "I'm just going home now." "How did you get here?" she asked. He drove, but didn't want her to know that because it'd mean he was too drunk to know he shouldn't drive, and that would make him an asshole. He'd take a cab home now, though, because he was just sober enough to not be an asshole anymore. "I need to call a cab," he said. "Will you call me a cab, Scully?" She took a deep breath and shook her head. "You can stay here," she said. She whispered it like she didn't want anyone else to hear, but he heard it. "I don't have any ugly pajamas," he said. Scully put down the spoon and bent down a little, and scooted the ugly blue pajama bottoms off her legs. "You do now," she said, and she handed them over to him. She hit something on the coffeemaker and its little red light went off. "Come to bed," she said, and she walked past him into the bedroom. He wasn't stupid, so he followed her. He nearly ran into the wall because he was pulling his shirt over his head while he walked. By the time he got his pants off and put on the ugly pajama pants, Scully was already in bed. These pajamas were really really comfortable, he had to admit, even though they were still too short for him after he'd unrolled the cuffs. "Are we gonna have sex now?" he asked. "I doubt it," she said. "I don't think you're up to it." He didn't know if she was joking or not. He went into her bathroom and peed, then he threw up. He used her toothbrush without asking, and got into bed with her. She was lying on her side, facing away from him. He just laid there a minute and smelled her pillowcase. "Scully," he said, and she turned on her back so they were side by side like a lying-down American Gothic. "You have to sleep in my arms," he said. "Because you're in love with me." "It doesn't matter right now," she said. "It always matters." He scooted closer to her and spooned up behind her and put his left arm under her pillow and his right arm over her. "Are you okay?" "I will be," she said. "Not right now, though. Now I'm somewhere south of okay." "Okay," he said. And he nuzzled into her and smelled her hair. *** Mulder woke up and his mouth was dry. He looked at the clock and it was only 4:17. There was a little sport bottle of water on the bedside table and he reached over Scully to get it, and she must not have appreciated that elbow to her face because she woke up with a growl. "Owww, Mulder, don't hit me." She rubbed at her temple. "Sorry." He moved her hand and kissed the spot where he'd smacked her. "Scully, I'm so sorry." He kissed her cheek. "Sorry." He kissed her lips. "Sorry." "Mulder, no." He was a fuckhead idiot. She didn't want him at all. She just hadn't wanted him to drive home, that was all. "Don't be sorry," she said. And she kissed him and it surprised him so much he nearly bit her. "Just a second," he said. His mouth was still dry. He sat up and squirted some water into his mouth. "Want some?" he asked her. She said yes, so he held up the bottle and waited for her to open her mouth so he could squirt some water in. Too much, and she swallowed half and dribbled half down her chin. He drank it off of her and threw the bottle somewhere. He couldn't believe Scully was letting him lick her neck. She laughed. Oh, she laughed and he loved the sound of it and he kissed her again and he wasn't sorry this time. He wasn't sorry at all. He wasn't sorry when he took that ugly pajama top off her and kissed her breasts and her belly button and the spot between her shoulder blades. He wasn't sorry when she took the ugly pajama bottoms off him and gave him a blow job. He wasn't sorry when he dragged her panties off and licked her until she screamed. And he wasn't at all sorry when he slid into her and the world became still and silent before it sped up and swallowed their grief for a shiny moment. He told her he loved her again, so she'd know it was him and not gin talking, and she told him she loved him too. He wanted that baby now. He wanted it for them both. He wished for it when he came, and he wished for it in his dreams. And Scully slept in his arms. *end* Thank you for reading. I'd love to hear what you thought, at HollywdBabylon@aol.com. Thanks to JHJ Armstrong and Leilia, for saying nice things to me late at night. Check out my fic at at GnatWorld: http://www.geocities.com/gnataliexyz/gnatworldmain.html