TITLE: All the Nuts... AUTHOR: Dreamshaper FEEDBACK: Read and reread with delight at Dreamshpr@aol.com DISCLAIMER: M & S aren't mine...they belong to CC.This story is mine...but if no one likes it, I'll disown it. RATING: 17+ CATEGORY:MSR, Post-ep SPOILERS:Ummm...the series? Up to and inc. Agua Mala ARCHIVE: Please do! If you already have one of my stories at your site, no need to ask permission...if not please drop a line with your address so I can visit. SUMMARY: The author sits at her computer, counting on fingers--ok, we got fluff, post-ep, something that almost resembles smut...a motel room with only one bed...a birthday...a nightmare...even a mention of that shower scene!!! Yup, it's all there...people should love this one... NOTES: I started this story as birthday-only story on Saturday((my birthday!)) but didn't like it...then I saw Agua Mala and started laughing hysterically...came back and rewrote the whole damn thing!! There's a fluff warning on this sucker, as well as a pure mind candy warning... `````````````` When Scully left the managers office of the seedy little motel muttering to herself, I knew we were in trouble. I knew *I* was in trouble, anyway. She slammed the cardoor and settled into her seat with a definitely foul glare and pulled a keyring from her pocket. "One room, Mulder. This dump is the only one with any openings thanks to this damn storm, the only one with power anyway, and it only has one damn room." I held my tongue, despite the near desperate urge to make a suggestive comment, any comment at all. I can tell she's expecting me to say something smart ass, and I know that if I did right now, I'd regret it--deeply regret it. I don't want her to hurt me. I definitely don't want to be autopsied alive... I make soothing noises deep in my throat instead and pull the car around to the room that matches the number on the keyring. She is out of the car and in the room before I have even offered to get her bags. With a wince, I manuever her things and mine into the dim room, and stand amazed in the shabby splendor. This is the dingiest room we have ever stayed in. Ever. That's an accomplishment when you consider some of the places we've been. I console myself as I toss Scully's bag onto the bed farther from the door. And then Scully screams from the bathroom. I bolt to the bathroom door even as I register the fact that that wasn't a "Help me Mulder, that sea creature is in the toilet" scream but a "So help me Mulder, I am going to feed you to the sea monster in the toilet" scream. I shouldn't have approached her after figuring out the differences, the nuances of the scream...she turns on me the second she senses me, and she is inarticulate with rage. The bathroom is disgusting, grimy and dim. For Scully the clean freak, the bathing freak and the hospitality freak, a scummy bathroom is the ultimate insult. I clear my throat before offering to go get some cleaning stuff from the manager, and bolt when she nods grimly, rolling up her sleeves and mumbling under her breath. I was wrong before...this isn't worse than the gulag. At least in the gulag, I didn't have to deal with Scully--let alone PMS!Scully... ``````````` I feel almost bad for Mulder as I hear him tiptoe from the room as fast as he can. It's not his fault that this room is disgusting...not his fault that I'm upset. What am I thinking? Why am I feeling bad for him? This disgusting room might not be his fault, but my crankiness definitely is...after all, he's the one who just *had* to come to Florida in the middle of a hurricane for a drunken old man who was thinking his neighbors had been eaten by a sea creature... And if they had, that makes no difference to me and my anger. After all, the result is me sharing a motel room and disgusting bathroom with Mulder on my birthday...a birthday he couldn't be bothered to recall. I don't generally get all wiggy when my birthday is forgotten--people have issues in their lives, after all, that are more improtant than my birthday. But this birthday feels important to me. It's only the second since the remission of cancer, and it seems a miracle to me that I am alive to celebrate... I had not thought that I would live to see this birthday--I had expected to live ling enough to celebrate the last one, but on the day the cancer was diagnosed I had thought that my next birthday would be the last...and here I am, alive and healthy... I want to celebrate. I do not want to celebrate here, without my family...with only Mulder. I am still angry with him--still holding a grudge because he can't find enough faith in me to follow one of my hunches blindly, though he certainly expect me to follow his with full faith and half a clue. I wince as I think of the poor people burned in that hangar--the families of those men. The children who died... `````````````` I got enough cleaning stuff from the manager to thoroughly clean the bathroom, and half off our bill for threatening to complain to the Health Department. The guy offered to send the cleaning woman in, but I know Scully well enough to figure that she wouldn't trust the woman and we'd end up cleaning it anyway, so I declined, took the supplies and headed back. I returned to our room feeling victorious, and certain that I could tease Scully into a lighter mood...I was whistling and scratching lightly at the disgusting marks around my neck, which itch and burn like crazy... Scully didn't apply any of that stuff she keeps, the stuff that kind of numbs injured skin for a little while, and I daren't risk digging through her stuff for it, not if I wqant to keep my head on my itching neck. But maybe when I tell her of my conquests, she'll feel magnamonious enough to dig it out... The glare that she greets me with quells any thought of comfort, and I hand her the supplies silently, then stand awaiting my orders. The glee with which she assigns me the toilet is disheartening, and I sigh as I take the plunger and the powder... I was repelled by the ring off grime in the bowl, and grimaced as I cleaned it carefully. I couldn't afford not to do a superb job, not with Scully so angry... I could hear her behind me, angrily scrubbing at the bath. I had a mental picture of tiny Scully doing battle with a giant slime monster, armed only with cleaning supplies and a growl...almost turned to grin and tell her. But then I got that image of myself under her scalpel and autopsy lights and kept my mouth shut. Just call me Walter... And to think I felt bad for that man! I'm more whipped than he is, and by a woman who is *much* smaller than me. At least Angela looked like she could kick Walter's ass, unlike Scully who looks like a ten year old could knock her over without even trying. I think to myself with a faint stir of anger. I turn, mouth already open to begin a blistering comment to my cranky partner... And freeze, transfixed by the sight of her kneeling beside the tub, hands over the side, head bent over them...as if she's in prayer... As if she's crying... ``````````````` There's less satisfaction than I expected there would be in giving Mulder the most disgusting job I could think of, and less reflief in attacking the dingy enamel of the tub. His meekly accepting puppy dog eyes and the way he absently scratced at those puncture wounds on his neck left me feeling hideously witchy...as a doctor, friend and partner I can't stand to see him in discomfort or ill health, and those sad eyes get to me every time, even when he's not trying. I stare down into the bath, studying the clean patch that I just got done working on and thinking. When I was little, I had been just as accepting of birthday gifts as every other little kid. But as I approached my teen years and learned more about life in general and my life in particular, I began to wonder if perhaps I should be giving presents to my father and mother, for giving me life, for loving me, for making sure as best they could that I was happy. The look on my mother's face when I gave her a thank you card on my thirteenth birthday...that's a memory I treasure far more than I treasured any gift I was given. Mulder has, in his way, attempted to do exactly what my parents did. He has tried his hardest to keep me safe and healthy...he has done everything in his power to keep me alive. He is the reason that I made it to this second post-cancer birthday... I feel so guilty now... A hand is suddenly dropped on my shoulder, large and warm, and I sigh. He is trying even now to comfort me, after I ahve been so evil the whole time we've been down here. I turn to face him, and I smile into his searching eyes, then rise. "I have to go to the pharmacy," I murmur, and he passes me the keys without speaking, hazel eyes still locked on mine. I try to reassure him with a warm smile, and his eyes lighten considerably in response, changing from dark, muddy brown/green to a much purer shade of green. I hurry from the room before I can be transfixed by those changeable eyes, stopping only to grab my wallet. The drive to the nearest pharmacy is surpirisingly swift, considering the debris strewn madly across the narrow road and the deep water that has collected in every dip and pothole. Picking out a card takes much longer...I read through humorous ones, can't find one I like. The serious ones seem too serious, sappy and sentimental...that's not really my style, nor is it my partner's...I finally decide on a blank card with decorated only with an image of a star filled sky. I pay for the card and sit in the car, thinking of something to write--I know what I mean to say, but words have rarely seemed adequate... Finally, I write simply, "Thank you for being there when I've needed you, and when I haven't...when it seemed like there was too much anger between us, and when it seemed like there was too much pain. Thank you for helping to assure that I made it to this birthday." Then I slipped the card into the envelope and made my way back to the motel. ``````````````````` I had tried to get the bathroom done before she got back, and scrambled to rise when I heard the key in the lock--she hadn't seemed angry when she left, and I wasn't going to tempt the Hormone Gods with my presence. I exited the bathroom with haste, expecting to find her waiting for it impatiently. Instead I found her sitting in the one chair in the room, tapping an envelope gently across her palm. I approached with a mix of concern and wariness, and sat on the corner of the bed closest to her. Silently, I waited. "You know, Mulder, I didn't expect to live this long...not after I found out about the cancer." Her eyes seemed very blue as they met mine, and their intensity kept me silent when I began to automatically reply. I settled back onto the bed and kept my gaze locked to hers. After another long pause, she nodded and continued. "I wouldn't have, had it not been for your persistence. I would have held on as long as I possibly could have, but the cancer would have killed me." She frowned down at the envelope in her hand and slipped it onto the corner of the bed where i sat. Confused, I glanced down at it, then back up at her. She nodded, head ducked and bright hair shielding her expression. I picked it up and slowly tore it open, sliding the card out and studying the image before opening it and reading. My throat closed up, and I was nearly choked with guilt as I remembered finally that it was her birthday, and realized what she was giving me this card for. I sat still and silent, rereading the words again and again. One of her hands gripped mine as I sat there, wordless on the bed, and I cleared my throat. "Happy Birthday, Scully," I offered her quietly, "and thanks for the card. For the sentiment behind it..." Her eyes were inscrutable as they passed over my face, and she nodded before rising. "Now, if you don't mind, I am claiming my privelege as birthday girl to the first shower." Her voice wasn't exactly gleeful, but there was enough wry humor for me to grin up at her and pull her to me with the hand still holding hers. "I don't mind," I say as I rest my head on her tummy and wrap my arms behind her back. "But we might want to conserve water and shower together in this time of trouble--and protect each other from the sea monster..." I grin as she chuckles and ruffles my hair affectionately, and add, "besides, it's not like we haven't showered together before...and what better way to celebrate a birthday than a shower with a friend?" She laughs out loud and shoves me away from her, standing over me with hands on hips and a raised brow as I fall onto my back with another grin. "Maybe you'll get lucky on your birthday Mulder." she murmurs, and my mouth falls open in shock. I watch as she grabs her toiletry bag, and I can't make a comeback till she's already in the recently scrubbed bathroom...then I call "Hey Scully...I'll shave your legs for a birthday present!" Her faint chuckle is muffled by the door, but I hear it... ``````````````````` I feel so much better now, not only because I've given Mulder an overdue thanks, but also because I've finally showered off the grime that accumulated during that impossibly long night. The last of my crankiness has subsided, and the resentment leftover from the whole Diana Fowley thing is fading along with it...though I still think he's wrong, and fully intend to prove it. Mulder is still laying back on the bed when I get done blowdrying my hair, card in hand, eyes fixed on the ceiling above his head. I lay back on my bed silently and sigh, settling in to nap for an hour or so, while Mulder takes his own shower. I'm fast asleep before he even shuts the bathroom door... When I awake from a deep, dreamless sleep, it is dark and Mulder is tossing and turning on the narrow motel bed beside mine. I hesitate to wake him, but his muffled moan of my name seems tortured, and I slide free of my covers and kneel beside him, studying him for a moment while he is relatively still. He is frowning and one of his hand rises to cover his mauled throat, and I sigh and reach out to gently shake him awake. I don't want him to scratch open the scabs that now cover the holes... He jerks upright when my hand comes into contact with his skin, and his eyes seem to automatically scan for my presence--when he sees me, he relaxes with a rueful grimace. "Hey, Scully..." he rasps, "that was my birthday present to you...isn't it fun to wake me?" I shake my head and rise to search through my bag for the anasthetic I never leave home without since meeting Mulder--the stuff I "forgot" to use during my earlier period of anger. Mulder sighs as I gently rub the thick cream onto the wounds, and his shoulders release the last of his tension. I am mesmerized momentarily by the steady pounding of his pulse beneath my fingertips and the occassional bob of his Adam's Apple as he swallows. When he murmurs my name quietly, it startles me into realizing that I have been kneeling over his thighs, and his hands have closed over my waist. I attempt to pull free of his hands, but he holds on and grins up into my eyes. Then he slides one hand behind my head and pulls me in for a kiss. ``````````````` When I was done my shower, I lay on my bed and watched Scully sleep for a long time...her face was bare of makeup, her breathing was slow and rhythmical, and her hands were curled like a child's by her face...she looked so much younger, and so peaceful... She thanked me for her birthday. How am I supposed to deal with that? What am I supposed to do? It seems too trite to get her a present now, and any words I could offer would pale beside her simple gratitude... I fell asleep before I had it figured out, and began to dream almost immediately. In my dream, that monster had me by the neck again and was choking the life out of me. Scully was standing there singing "Happy Birthday" as she watched, and Walter was shouting about being grabbed by the nugs...then Scully sighed and said she might as well save me...but before she could the monster bore down again...I was dying, and knew the sea creature was going for Scully as soon as it was done with me... I couldn't let her die, not on her birthday... Then she woke me up. I don't even remember what she said to me, what I said to her--I just remember that she settled over my thighs and began to gently massage my neck--then she seemed distracted, and settled down to almost sit on my thighs. Her warmth and the touch of her hands on my neck became almost unbearably arousing. I kissed her, even as she tried to pull free... And now she isn't pulling free anymore. She settles onto my thighs and slips her tongue into my mouth, exploring and sliding. I respond fiercely, arousal shooting through my system as I realize that Scully is kissing me and sitting in my lap...my hands slide up her ribcage, under her loose white tshirt, and I count each pair of ribs. When I reach her breasts, I am more delighted than I can ever remember having been in my life--she is not wearing a bra, and she is pushing bare round breasts into my hands...I break our kiss long enough to toss her shirt off over her head, then lock my mouth back to hers. I can't believe my luck--she and I have had such hideous tension between us...I despaired of ever being able to tell her that I loved her without being killed for it...but now she's letting me kiss her, and my hands are full of her, and she's moaning into my mouth as I caress her gently... I don't want to give her the chance to change her mind. Flipping her gently onto her back, I settle over her and gently pinch her nipples between my fingers, roll them, scratch gentle over the skin of her torso--all with my mouth trapping hers. She turns her mouth away from mine with a gasp, and pushes me when I try to recapture it...pushes me down to her breasts. Oh, God... ``````````````` I think when he closes those talented lips over one of my nipples, when he curiously explores my upper body with them. I moan and try to drag him back when he raises himself off me, but smile when I realize all he intended to do was strip us both. I am surpirised at how aroused I am from nothing more than a few kisses and caresses--but looking at Mulder reassures me that I'm not too far ahead...he's hard as a rock already... Our eyes meet in quiet communion for a few moments before he smiles and lowers himself back onto my body, and I hold him as close as I can, scratching lightly over his strong back, running my fingers as far down as I can reach on his long body with my short arms. He makes a pleased sound and rolls us over so that I rest on his firm chest. I explore him with my mouth much as he explored with his, and am delighted at the many responses that my touch triggers...shudders and goosebumps, a groan and a choked sigh that might have been my name...when I close gentle fingers around him, his ragged breathing stops entirely and I laugh as I kiss that poor throat...but he stops my own breath with a hand slid between my thighs... I settle down onto him and sigh as we rock gently together, slowly building toward orgasm. It comes more quickly than I had anticipated, and he holds me gently as I shudder above him. Surprisingly patient for a man of his nature, he waits while I calm down and his movements as he flips me onto my back and begins his own climb are incredibly tender. I watch him as he bites his lower lip when he climaxes, and hold him as tightly as I can when he collapses above me... "Happy Birthday. " he whispers as he rolls us onto our sides, and I smile into his tender gaze. "I love you, you know...even if you do have me by the nugs." I stare, bemused, as he grins and closes his eyes. But it's useless to try to figure him out sometimes and I don't even try now. A night of helping a woman give birth, fighting off sea slime and a man even more paranoid than Mulder has left my mind pretty much fried... "All the nuts roll down to Florida..." I whisper as I shake my head. His laughter is silent, but I feel it rumble through his chest and sigh. He's near impossible to insult... So I give up trying. "I love you too, Mulder." My whisper is nearly inaudible even to myself, but he smiles and opens his eyes. "I know." he says simply and I nod, close my eyes, settle down to sleep... "If you didn't love me, you'd have killed me long ago in a fit of hormonal rage," he whispers smugly just before I am completely asleep--thinking perhaps that I am already dreaming. I grin against his skin. He'll learn...he'll have it all figured out tomorrow ... After he awakes handcuffed to the headboard of this lumpy motel bed. He'll learn all about hormonal rage then... But for now, I'm too content to kill him... For now. END ```````````` Teeheehee, I had fun with this one--the fact that I am VERY well medicated at the moment has nothing to do with it! Did you like it? I realized after I was done with it that it has EVERYTHING X-Philes like in their fic...it's not my fault if it doesn't all blend well ::evilly grins, then laughs till she falls out of her chair:: Anyway--give me feedback;I need it! Dreamshaper (dreamshpr@aol.com) "When friends perched haphazardly on top of pianos ask hysterically 'Am I Sexy!?!', just nod and say yes." Jenn-the-piano-climber Nothing is foolproof to a talented fool.