From: "Nichole" Date: Thu Sep 20, 2001 2:00 am Subject: Seduction by: Nichole Story: Seduction Author: Nichole Rating: NC-17. Category: MSR, UST, Scully's POV. Spoilers: A Clyde Bruckman quotation. Feedback: Please! scoob4u@yahoo.com Archive: Certainly, just let me know first. Summary: A slow and torturous seduction between partners. Author's Notes: At end of story. Disclaimer: Here be monsters I say unto you. Mr. Carter wouldn't have the guts to write what you are about to read, nor would he approve of this in his show, but I shall write it anyhow, even though the characters DO NOT belong to me. Damn it. Homepage: http://www.geocities.com/scoob4u/Nicholes_FanFic.html Also check out the Spooky Archive for some awesome fanfic! http://www.geocities.com/xfileslover12000/index.html XXXXX SEDUCTION XXXXX Another long ride home after another dead-end case. I'm tired and I smell. I want to go home and shower. I want to hit my partner for dragging me to New York to sit in a bar and search for shape shifting prostitutes. Why do I let him do that to me? "Oh come on Scully, you saw it yourself!" he argues, removing the empty hull of his sunflower seed off the tip of his protruding tongue with a thumb and forefinger. "Mulder, the only thing that *I* saw was a woman who *appeared* to be more intoxicated than you were trying to feel you up!" I shout back, defending my good better judgment. Silence. Oh, beautiful, deafening silence. The car comes to a halt at the familiar Georgetown red light and he turns to face me in his seat. Oh no, not another face-off. Why me? I blow out an irritated breath and look over at him. Oh God, why did I do that? His sunglasses have slid down the elongated bridge of his nose and are now comfortably resting just above his nostrils. Why must I work with such an intensely beautiful man? I nervously lick my lips and return his stare which has turned into more of a smirk. His eyebrow cocks up at me and I know something mischievous is playing through that insane mind of his. "What?" I spit, intentionally sounding irritated. "You're jealous," he says, and I instantaneously have the urge to smack him. "WHAT?" I ask shout through my clenched teeth. "You're jealous of her aren't you?" he asks with a full grin. Did I mention the fact that he was smart? "I am *not* jealous of her Mulder!" I protest, adding a crude laugh to my statement. "Why are you being so defensive then?" he counters, and I have to look away. Either I jump out of this car now, or I end up hitting him. No, I'm almost home, I decide. I will get there faster if I just stay in the car. I steel myself as much as possible and turn to face him again, relaxing my facial muscles as I calmly say, "I am far from defensive Mulder. And besides," I huff, "Jealousy takes a lot out of a woman, and I wouldn't bother wasting my time, nor my energy." That, by far, is the biggest load of crap that has ever exited my mouth, and he knows it. He quietly pushes his glasses back up his nose and turns around, stepping on the gas pedal just before the light begins to change. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Seduction. Such a familiar word, yet I know it not. I pray every day that I will find out it's meaning, but each day I am left with little more than an insatiable hunger in the pit of my stomach. With each rumble of his voice I am left breathless. Each touch of his hand leaves me aching for more. Why? Why is it that I find my partner so seductive, so ruthlessly sexual, so utterly impossible? I keep telling myself that I'm being irrational, but some dark part of me wants him to seduce me. His sits at his desk opposite me, chewing on the end of his pencil. If I could find words, I'd tell him that he will give himself lead poisoning, but I choke on my own excessive saliva before I can speak. I see the wood sliding in and out of his mouth, his luscious lips wrapping themselves around the tip, taunting it as it glides. His teeth, I imagine, are teasing it before biting down hard. The splinters will surely wedge into his gums if he isn't careful. But he is. Like so many other things my partner is good at, he knows not to bite too hard. He is a master at those damned sunflower seeds, surely he knows how to chew on a pencil. I lust for Mulder in glasses. It adds an appeal that I cannot explain. Maybe it has something to do with his boyish mannerisms, making him appear younger somehow. I notice that he is reading something... The paper perhaps? I can't really tell by the way the light reflects off the desk. I lean in a little and find that my guess was correct, and I smile a little at the accuracy of my presumption. He bobs back and forth in his chair, his legs pushing and pulling his weight as he fidgets with the pencil between his teeth. He then moves his feet to the top of the desk and crosses them, still jutting them in rhythm with whatever beat that is going through his head today. Sometimes it's a slow one, which usually appears when he's deep in thought. But today, it seems like one of his upbeat rhythms. Those usually appear when he is in a happy, cheerful mood. Oh, lucky day! I pretend for all that I'm worth to not be staring at him, but I know he senses my eyes on him somehow. Maybe it's the way he has taken his pencil teasing to a new height, pulling it all the way out of his mouth and slowly sliding it back in, twisting it around the outside of his lips in the process. And I could swear that I just saw him lick the end. Oh god. I need to breathe before I faint. He peeks up at me from the lenses that have slid half way down his elegant nose and I panic, bringing my gaze back to the file that I was pretending to read: "Thelma Norse refuses to give any aid in the search for her son, Michael, whose whereabouts are unknown..." "Busted!" He teases, laughing at my expense. "For what?" I challenge, giving him a doubtful smile. "For looking..." "At?" I ask, taking on a teasing tone myself. "Me. I saw you looking at me Scully," he tells me as though I were going to argue with him. "I was trying to figure out what I'd do once you finally swallowed that pencil you're masticating," I cover, nodding towards the object hanging out of his mouth. His smile tells me he knows, but I return to my reading, not wanting to discuss the matter any further. I hear him huff and continue to chew on the pencil, this time making audible slurps as he tries to intentionally annoy me. "Thelma Norse refuses to give any aid in the search for her son, Michael, whose whereabouts are unknown..." I hear the creaking of his chair and I look up to see him getting out of it. He takes off the glasses and lays them down on the desk, not even bothering to put them in their case. He then takes the badly chewed pencil out of his mouth and puts it next to his glasses. I notice myself staring and I look away again, going back to my reading yet again: "Thelma Norse refuses to give any aid in the search for her son, Michael, whose whereabouts are unknown..." Through all of my concentration, I hear him walk away, heading for the door I suspect. I hear it open and shut, without looking, I know that I was right. I couldn't help feeling a little relieved that he had left me alone, it was beginning to get a little hot in the office, and I was beginning to get lightheaded. A feeling of fear crept into my stomach though, I had been busted. He knew. I didn't know whether to feel relieved or terrified. I sigh and get out of my chair and walk over to put the file back into one of the famous filing cabinets. If I couldn't be his obsession, I had decided early on, the least I could do was be a part of it. The X-files gave me that chance, I was important to him because I was important to them. Talk about your pride and joy. I reached up to the highest one, cursing the fact that I am "Vertically challenged", I stretched as far as my short legs would allow, desperately trying to see over the edge of the drawer. Once I thought the file was in the right spot, I began to close the drawer. Then I felt it, there on my sides were two large hands, just holding me there. I froze. I didn't know what else to do. The grip seemed harsh at first, but when I didn't resist, it became lighter, more intimate and less threatening. I heard the sound of breathing from behind me and felt my hair moving as short puffs of air hit the strands. I felt the figure shift behind me and I felt someone close to my ear, the sound and feel of breathing intensified a hundred fold. "Scully..." the deep voice rumbles into my ear, so close that it sends shivers down my spine. I think I replied "What?", but I honestly don't know if I said it out loud. "You're in my way," he breathes, still keeping the mask of seduction in his voice. I flatten my feet and turn around, matching his self-satisfied grin with my own look of annoyance. I walk to my chair and sit down, still a little nervous and very shaken up inside. I watch him as he opens a drawer and removes a file, noticing the way his back muscles tighten as he bends, the way his leg goes out a little behind him as he shifts his weight. I nervously lick my lips and try to find something else to look at... "Scully?" I hear him say, but I don't respond. I'm too busy concentrating on the wall behind him. "Scully!" He nearly shouts, and my attention is his once again. "What's the matter with you today? You don't look so good," he assesses, giving me a one of his trademark Scully look-overs. "Scully," he calls again when I don't respond. "What's wrong?" He moves to stand in front of me, his arms crossed over his chest as his face is turned up into a worried expression. I'm biting my top lip without knowing it, a nervous habit that I have picked up throughout the years. I don't want to answer him, I can't think of anything to say. After a few moments of silence, I stand and croak out; "I think I'm going home Mulder, I'm not feeling well." It's a poor excuse, and I sense that he knows it for the fraud it is. With little effort on my part, I grab my jacket and purse and head out of the office, leaving my confused partner behind to analyze my actions. (End Part One) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ XxXxPART TWOxXxX I run up the stairs to my apartment, not caring who is watching me. I slam the door to my sanctuary and make my way around inside. I throw my keys on the desk in the living room and toe off my shoes into a pile, throwing my blazer towards the sofa. I raise my eyes skyward and let out an irritated breath when it falls to the floor. I chide myself for my actions at the office, willing the nagging feeling of dread and sadness to dissipate. The knot in my stomach hadn't loosened, and I still feel lightheaded at the mere thought of what had happened. How could I be so stupid? I take pride in my smarts. I honestly believe that I am a bright woman, despite the fact that I have pissed away the career that I had worked so hard to have, just to find myself working in some dingy basement at the FBI with a loon who sees aliens in the fucking architecture. -That same loon that I am now in love with. Oh the irony. I shake my head in defiance at this thought, still not agreeing on the facts. I am lonely. I'm desperate, and having what you'd call a "dry spell". Okay, so maybe it's more like a walk in the Sahara desert. Whatever it was, for some odd reason the closest human male in my vicinity suddenly became increasingly arousing. Okay, so I'm human. But what does that prove? I want him. I want him so, so badly. But it is dangerous for me to want him. The leap of faith that I'd have to take in order to allow myself to love him is even more frightening than any of the X-files locked away in that damnable file cabinet. Mulder, to me, has always been a forbidden fruit. I've refused get too close for so long that I've grown numb to his masculine charms and overwhelming sex appeal. I had simply ignored him when he had repeatedly tried to win me over with his unmatched wit and sexual innuendoes. I thought that I had grown immune to him, I thought I wasn't going to do this to myself any more. But, much to my dismay, recently this had all changed. It seemed like every word that he spoke was an invitation, every touch a beckoning. I fucked up and lowered the gates around my heart, allowing him to enter. I was allowing myself to be seduced by him. So, what now? I am so tired of standing back and watching as other women are able to look at him with lust-filled eyes as he eagerly complies. I'm tired of longing for his touch, knowing that a hand on the small of my back is the most I'll ever have. And oh, for his kiss. I'd give anything to feel his lips on mine. But, this is Mulder after all, and I'm Scully, his partner and friend. His confidant, not his obsession. And that, well that is one thing that I could never compete with. His single-mindedness is beyond reparation, and I am too tired to try and fix it. I guess it's time to switch into my NumbScully mode and move on through life, never knowing what I'll have missed. I walk lazily into the kitchen where I put on some hot tea, hoping that it's soothing fragrance will once again come to her aid and calm me. I stand over the stove as I wait for the kettle to come to a boil, noting the elevated pain in my neck from sleeping on the piece of shit bed in that cheap ass hotel Mulder picked for us. So typical. I sigh deeply and move my right hand up to massage the tender muscle in my neck as I lean my head forward. "Sore neck?" a voice calls from behind me, making me jump at it's suddenness. I drop my hand to my side and turn my head to see Mulder standing in the doorway. "Can I help?" he asks politely, beginning to walk towards me. I panic inwardly and turn around to face the stove, nervously grabbing a pot holder from the counter top. It's an irrational reaction to a rational fear, I tell myself but I don't care. I can't face him right now. "It's just a little stiff from sleeping on it wrong. I'll be fine," I answer quickly. The movement from behind me seems to have stopped and I hear him blow out an aggravated breath. Then another footstep, followed by the sound of him taking off his suit jacket. -I'd know that sound anywhere. "Mulder, I said I'd be fi..." I begin to say before being cut off by the feel of his warm hands on my neck. The pain stopped almost instantly as he begins to knead into my aching flesh. "Uh-huh," he says with a laugh. "Scully when will you learn that these hands are the cure to all illness? I can work miracles with these babies." "I bet you can," I hear myself moan, and I regret my verbal slip-up immediately. "Now look who's throwing the innuendoes," he replies, adding more pressure with his thumbs, kneading harder when he hears my groan of approval. I breathe through my teeth, making a hissing noise that signals pain. He stops immediately and cranes his neck around to look at my face. "I'm fine Mulder, don't stop," I insist, saying the same with my expression. "Scully, maybe you should go see a specialist or something. How long has this been bothering you?" he questions, resuming a lighter massage on my neck. I consider telling him the real reason my neck is in the shape it's in, but decide that's another argument waiting to happen and go with a lighter response. "I dunno, a couple of days maybe? It's nothing serious, it's just stiff." "What is?" "My neck." He begins to snicker and I reach behind my head and swat at his. "Hey now, you said it, not me," he laughs. His hands stop moving and I sigh as the pain begins to well again. "Well, I just came to check up on you and make sure you're okay. I need to get back to work I suppose." He steps back from he as I turned off the stove and lift the hissing kettle off of the range. I pour a cup full of hot water and open a tea bag, keeping my mouth shut the entire time. "I'll see you tomorrow then?" he asks, wriggling his arms into the sleeves of his jacket. -Another sound I know by heart. I turn around to look at him now, knowing that if I don't, that he won't leave. I quietly nod in reply and turn back to my tea. He's standing there behind me, just staring. I can feel his eyes boring holes into my back. I hear him sigh and finally begin to walk away. The door closes, and I lean against the counter with my hands on my hips. I put my chin in my chest and blow out a long breath, trying to decide whether or not to follow him and explain my actions. "You know you want to," the voice inside my head tells me and before I know it, I'm walking towards the door. I begin a light trot down the hall, desperate to stop him from leaving. In my rush, I fail to hear a door open as a very tall man steps out into the hallway directly in front of me. I stop immediately, coming nose to chest with him. I spout a quick apology before looking up into the most magnificent pair of blue eyes that I have ever seen. "That's okay, I shouldn't have carelessly stepped out into such a busy hallway," he quips, meeting my dazed stare with one of his own. I look around us for a moment and allow a faint smile to paint my face. "It's a regular freeway out here," I tease, "You should try and be more careful." "I'll do that," he smiles, releasing a fresh dusting of pheromones into the atmosphere around us before taking a step backwards into his apartment. "So what's your name anyhow?" he asks, still smiling openly at me. I can't help by blush. "Dana. Dana Scully," I answer, holding my hand out to shake his. "And yours?" "Ryan Myers," he says, taking my small hand in his larger one. "Nice to meet you Dana." He looks down at my hand and then back to my face. "Single Dana Scully I see," he speaks flatly. When I give him a confused expression, he explains, "No ring. I'm assuming you're not married." "No, not married..." "Ryan," he gently reminds me. "Ryan," I repeat with a smile. "Well, I have something on the stove," I point down the hall behind me. "I better get back before I have a mess to clean up." "Where were you running to then?" he asks. Again, I'm confused. "Running to?" "Yeah, you were running down the hall. I'm assuming you don't use it as your running track..." "I was just uhm," I stall, looking at anything but him, "I was just trying to catch my brother," I lie, swiping a loose piece of hair behind my ear as I look back up at him. "He uh, he left his wallet back in my apartment." "And you didn't bring it with you to give it back to him?" he questions. Smart, this one. I like that. I begin to smile when I'm startled to hear a masculine voice call out from somewhere inside his apartment. "Hey Ryan!" "Just a minute Brett!" he calls back, turning his head to yell in the apartment. He then turns back to look at me and shakes his head. "Men, so pushy," he quips, rolling his eyes. I think I just swallowed chicken bone. Either that or I'm in shock. Either way, I can't speak. I merely smile at him and roll my eyes as well, adding a good humored "Tell me about it," before clearing my throat. "Well, it was nice meeting you Ryan," I say quickly, turning to walk down the hall. "Nice meeting you too Dana," he called after her. "See ya around!" I reach my apartment and step inside, shutting the door slowly before walking over to my sofa where I sigh and allow gravity to do it's work. My eyes close instantly as my neck ache begins to flare up again. Where are those miracle working hands when you need em? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This morning at the office has been rough, the uneasiness that I feel by being in close quarters with Mulder is hard for me to bear. I keep telling myself that I am being irrational, and ridiculous, but I am ignoring my inner voice once again with much enthusiasm. Something strange and yet very awesome happened to me last night. I met someone. Yes, he was gay, but at least it made me think about someone else besides Mulder for once. Finally I was able to take my mind off of him, even if it was for a few moments. That's a big step for me. So why is it that I somehow still manage to lose focus of that small fact whenever my partner is near? I feel like telling him just to see his reaction, to see how it would affect him, if it would at all. "Hey Scully, what's for lunch today?" he asks, spinning around in his leather chair. "Whatever you brought to eat I guess," I retort, looking back at the Time Magazine in my hands. I hear him huff out a breath and put his feet on the floor, but I dare not look up. "Scully," he says, standing. "Hmmm?" "You want anything from The Hub?" "A salad would be good," I reply, not willing to pass up the opportunity of Mulder buying me lunch. -It's such a rare occurrence. I hear what can only be perceived as a "Yuck," followed by footsteps out of the office. I draw some relief from finally being alone and I raise my head, staring at his empty office chair. It occurs to me that I've rarely seen it empty and I smile at the thought. When it is empty, he is usually illustrating some insane theory by pacing the floor or heading for the slide machine. Sure he can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but at least he has some interesting mannerisms. I sigh and begin to read again. "Well," he says from the doorway, making me once again jump slightly at the sound of his voice. I hadn't expected him back so soon. "They weren't open," he finished, stomping back to his chair. "They weren't?" I ask, absolutely bewildered. "Why not?" "Damage. Water damage in the bathrooms," he spits, putting his hands behind his head as he leans back in his chair. "So you didn't just go somewhere else?" I ask, furrowing my brow. "No." "Why not?" "Why are you asking so many questions?" "Why aren't you giving me complete answers?" "I am giving you complete answers Scully. No is a complete answer." "No, it isn't." "Yes it is!" I stop the petty argument by shutting my mouth and stare him down. "Okay," he admits, "I had my mind set on one of their special burgers and I didn't want to settle for anything less. How's that for a complete answer?" "Well, sometimes people do have to settle for less Mulder. Did you ever think of that?" I ask, still ready for the challenge. I see him bite down on his bottom lip and my face softens. Somehow, I think he knew the meaning behind that statement. "Mulder, I just meant that not everyone always gets what they want all the time. No matter how persistent, or *non-persistent* they may be." It's a staring contest between us and I inwardly chide myself for speaking so crudely to my unsuspecting partner. Well, no actually he deserves it. "Scully if you don't want to be here, that's okay you know. There's nothing for you to do today anyhow," he finally says, breaking the uncomfortable silence between us. My first thought is to brush it off and object to my leaving, but the smarter voice in me decides to take the offer and go home. The sooner, the better. I nod and get up from my seat, placing the magazine back on his desk. "You're sure you don't need anything?" I ask, trying hard to make it sound like I cared. "No. I'll be okay," he says sitting up straight. "Can you hand my blazer to me?" I ask, pointing behind him towards the box of files that I had thrown it on when I came in. Wordlessly, he stands to grab it, turning on his heels to hand it to me. I reach out for it and he places it in my hand, but doesn't let go when I begin to take it. I look up at him only to find him looking straight into my eyes. Hurt. Confusion. Sadness. All those things I see there make me want to cry and I don't even know why. Does he think that I hate him? "Mul..." I start, but I am silenced by the tips of his fingers at my lips. A look of defiance comes over him, as he refuses to listen even when I try to open my lips to speak beneath his touch. His footing becomes a little uneasy and I feel, and see, him leaning toward me, his face coming dangerously close to mine. I start to back away but am halted by his hand behind my head, forcing my face towards his while his lips suddenly meet mine. And then, I am lost. (End Part Two) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Story: Seduction (part three) Author: Nichole Rating: NC-17. Category: MSR, UST, Angst, Scully's POV. Spoilers: A Clyde Bruckman quotation. I suppose it's set before Closure. Feedback: Please! scoob4u@yahoo.com Archive: Please do, just let me know where! Summary: A slow and torturous seduction between partners. Disclaimer: Here be monsters I say unto you. Mr. Carter wouldn't have the guts to write what you are about to read, nor would he approve of this in his show, but I shall write it anyhow, even though the characters DO NOT belong to me. Damn it. Homepage: http://www.geocities.com/scoob4u/Nicholes_FanFic.html Also check out the Spooky Archive for great stories: http://www.geocities.com/xfileslover12000/index.html XxXxPART THREExXxX The kiss is brief, non-passionate and lacking in movement on both our parts. It's definitely not what I expected. He breaks away first, leaving me speechless and confused. And, unbelievably embarrassed. "Wha-" I begin, unable to finish the question. His face is expressionless, a cold stare is all that I am greeted with. I feel a rush of emotions begin to stir, and the strongest of them is anger. "Mulder?" "Later Scully," is what he says, and I am left utterly astonished at how easily he says it. I stare at him, dumb struck. He breaks the stare and sits in his chair, retrieving his glasses from the desk and putting them on his face. I'm still staring I realize, waiting for some unseen force to make my feet move. I feel like screaming at him, hitting him, kicking him, anything to make him feel the hurt and anger that I feel. He peers up at me as if to ask what was wrong and I find myself blinking back tears. I bite my bottom lip and nod my head in understanding before turning to leave. "Scully," I hear him call, but it's too late, I've already slammed the door shut behind me. My drive home is reckless, I don't think that I've ever sped so much in my life. I refuse to cry, but somehow renegade tears slip down my cheeks. I put my hand over my mouth, trying to make myself breathe through my nostrils. -An old trick that I use to keep myself from sobbing uncontrollably. Finally, I pull into my parking space and unbuckle my seat belt. I walk down the hallway, not caring about anything other than entering the safe haven of my own apartment. Somehow through it all, I hear a door open and I lift my floor peeled gaze to see Ryan coming out of his apartment. "Hi Dana," my name is followed by a concerned expression and I know what's coming next. "Are you okay?" I don't know if it's because I'm forced to open my mouth to speak or if it was the intense pressure in my head coming to the point of explosion, but I rip out in a loud sob. I cover my face with both hands trying to save myself the mortification of breaking down in front of this poor unsuspecting person before me. I feel his hands on my shoulders as he pulls me into his arms. I lean my head against his chest, sobbing unabashedly into his shirt as he escorts me into his apartment. We sit on his sofa and I pull away from him, only to be drawn back into his arms. "Shhh.." he hushes, stroking my hair as he tries to comfort me. Somewhere amidst this outpouring of my soul, I realize that this man is a stranger to me. I'd only met him last night, and yet here I am, crying in his arms over some hormone induced trauma. I try to calm myself, evening out my breaths before pulling back from him. "I am so, so sorry," I say, looking into his eyes. "I didn't mean to break down on you." "No problem, it's not often I get to hold a sobbing woman in my arms, so I guess I'm now up to speed with the rest of the male species," he smiles, and I try to laugh at his attempt at levity. A moment of silence passes between us and he hands me a box of Kleenex. I thank him wordlessly and begin to pat my eyes dry. "So," he says, "You wanna tell me what that was all about?" I smile as I finish drying my eyes. "I'm not sure that you'd want to hear about it." "Try me," he says, smiling back at me with his clear blue eyes. "I work for the FBI, did you know that?" I ask, wadding up the soaked Kleenex. "Special Agent Dana Scully." "Ah," he nods, "I see." "I have this *partner* and-" "Let me guess," he says, holding out his hand. "You fell head over heels for your partner and the feeling isn't mutual?" "You're good. You're very good," I smile. "How long?" "Six years," I answer, knowing exactly what he was asking. "Wow," he says, raising his eyebrows. "Six years huh?" I nod. "And in all that time you two never..." he asked, waiving his hand in between us. "No. Never," I answer, lowering my eyes to my lap. "Jesus," he says, shaking his head. "I know. Pathetic isn't it?" I say with a smile. "Not pathetic, just hard to believe," he clarifies. "The self control aspect is just mind boggling." I snicker at his remark, realizing for the first time how strong a person I truly was. "It wasn't as hard as you might think." "Oh yeah? A lot of cold showers I take it?" he asks, eliciting a laugh from me. "You have no idea," I comment, rolling my eyes. "That and the occasional irritation factor have kept us from ripping each other's clothes off for years." He laughs whole-heartedly and I join him. I'm laughing at myself and it actually feels good. "So do you love him?" There it is, the big one. I blow out a long breath and nervously rub my knees with the heels of my hands. "Rough question to answer isn't it?" Damn straight. "You know, I joined the Bureau thinking that the career would be enough for me, that I'd never have to deal with matters of the heart. I thought that I'd be struggling hard enough just to survive that I wouldn't have the time to think about falling in love, or wanting a family," I explain, biting the inside of my lip as I try to hold back the emotions that spring to life from uttering the latter. "But, if anything, being an agent makes me want those things even more. I envy those who have families, who have husbands and mortgage payments. I guess I'm more in love with the idea of being one of those people than I am with anything else." He nods, taking in everything that I had said and seemed to consider it thoroughly. "You didn't answer my question Dana," he kindly reminds me. I hesitate again, dropping my gaze to somewhere in between us. "Yes, I love him," I finally say, choking back tears once again. "So why don't you tell him? The least it will do is keep him from hurting you any more," he advises. "I can't do that." "Why not?" "Because we are partners and friends. Something like that would cause problems in our working relationship." "And there isn't already problems in your relationship?" I can't answer that, but I know it's true. So I just sigh and tuck my hair behind my ear. "You never told me what happened," he says, tapping the top of my hand with his finger. I look back up at him and blow out another deep breath. "He kissed me," I say, clearing my throat. "He kissed you?" I nod. "What's so bad about that?" "He didn't mean it," I lower my eyes once again. "It, it was a farewell kiss that lacked any emotion whatsoever and ended as soon as it began," I explain, feeling tears beginning to sting in my eyes again. Damn estrogen. "Maybe he was just testing the waters," he suggests, trying to keep me from crying. "No, I think he was trying to get rid of me," I laugh spitefully. "In all these years, has he ever shown interest in you? Have you ever caught him staring at you for no reason? Touching you just because you're there?" His questions confuse me, but I find myself smiling when I recall the few times that I have seen interest or emotion sparkle Mulder's eyes when he has looked at me. "There have been a few times when I thought that maybe I meant more to him than a helpful sidekick," I say, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "Such as?" "Well, sometimes I see something in his eyes. It's like a light gets switched on and they just sparkle at me. It's the look he gets when he's just solved a case, when he finally gets me to believe him. He has this boyish charm that just magnifies when he's happy," I laugh. "But, unfortunately that doesn't happen very often." "He's an unhappy person?" "He uhm," I stutter, swallowing the lump in my throat. "He lost his sister when he was twelve. She was only eight," I explain. "It was very traumatizing to him and to his family. I don't think he's ever fully recovered from it." "And you think that because he can't get over this trauma that he couldn't possibly love you?" I'm speechless. "You don't think you can fill that void do you? You think that's what he wants don't you, to fill a void?" "That's a hit," I say, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I can stop them. When I see his confused expression, I have to admit that I expected it. I smile and explain, "A hit. It's an phrase that profilers use to when a police psychic gets something right about a case. A hit, a miss..." I allow my voice to trail off. He doesn't reply and I completely understand why. "My partner, he's into that type of mumbo jumbo," I explain. "Ahh..." he nods. "Well Dana, I think I've done everything I can do for you. The rest is up to you both to figure out." "Yeah," I say, beginning to get up. "I think I'll go home and get some rest before I face the devil in the morning." We both stand and walk towards the door. I step out into the hallway and turn around to thank him. "I uh, I'm really sorry to have fallen into your arms like that. I don't usually go through this much anguish." "Like I said before, don't worry about it. I just hope that things will work out for you both," he says, smiling brightly. We exchange smiles and I turn to walk away, feeling a peace that I hadn't felt in a long time wash over me. I reach my door and reach in my pocket for my keys, still smiling with the self confidence that Ryan had helped me build. I insert the key into my door and am surprised to find that it hadn't been locked in the first place. I shake my head in confusion and turn the handle, stepping over the threshold only after unbuttoning the holster of my weapon. I step into my living room and turn on the light immediately, looking for any signs of an intrusion. I'm startled as I see Mulder sitting on my sofa, his face expressionless and as dull as it was the last time I had seen him. "Mulder," I say, "what the hell are you doing here?" "We have to talk Scully," he says flatly. I stare at him for a moment and begin to feel the fluttering sensation build in the pit of my stomach. "About what?" "Come on Scully, you know exactly what I'm talking about," his eyes are cold and I shiver as I look into them. "No, I don't," I lie. "Please, enlighten me Mulder, what do we need to talk about?" I ask harshly, taking off my jacket before throwing it over the back of my office chair. "Oh God," he says, leaning forward to cup his face in his hands. "Scully I didn't mean to do it." "That's what I thought," I huff out, crossing my arms over my chest. "So why are you here? To humiliate me? To make me feel like one of your dirty little shape shifting whores?" I shout, letting the hurt and anger surge out. "It must be nice. You can tease someone and make them fall head over heels in love with you with no strings attached. You kiss someone and act like it never happened?" My nostrils are flaring now, my stance becoming as threatening as my small body can be. This is a fight he'll never forget. An evil thought enters my mind and before I know it, it come out of my mouth. "You think that just because you lost your sister when you were young that it gives you a ticket to be a pig? Huh?" I see in his face that I've struck a cord, that I've poured salt into an open wound, but I continue my ranting nevertheless. "You're right, you didn't mean it because you never mean anything Mulder! Everything you've ever said to me you didn't mean unless it's got to do with a case. The only reason you care about me is because I'm valuable to you. I feel like your fucking sidekick Mulder!" My face is red and my throat hurts from all of the crying/yelling that I was doing. And his face. Oh my God, it's as though I've hit him in the gut with a sledgehammer. I want to crawl under a rock and die just so long as I don't have to look at it anymore. And the really pathetic thing is that I'd want him to crawl under it with me. He stands, and I fear that he may want to hit me for the things that I've said. God knows I would if I were him. But instead he puts his hand on his hip and just stands there quietly, like he's trying to figure out what to do. "Mulder," I say, keeping my tone even, "I don't want to be the filler if the void is solely yours." Still no reply. No reaction. It's as though he's stone. "I can't," I say, beginning to cry, "I can't keep on going like this. I just can't." The tears begin to flow and he finally looks up at me from across the room, his eyes brimming with tears. "Things are changing, aren't they?" he asks, and I can only nod, the off-colored question striking me mute. "For the better?" he asks, looking hopeful. I shrug my shoulders, and answer, "I don't know." "No more innocent teasing and flirting?" I swallow and put my hands on my hips. "I," I begin, looking down at the floor. "I want you to make a choice Mulder." "What kind of choice?" "One that I hope you won't take lightly." I steal a glance at him and see a flicker of the panic face. "Oh," he says, breaking away from my stare. "You have a choice between our partnership, and our friendship," I say calmly, hearing my own voice break. "Jesus Scully," he exasperates, "What the hell kind of a choice is that?" "A hard one," I say, my resolve standing strong. "But I need this to happen." "I thought that one was entwined with the other..." he voice trails off. "They were," I inject. "Until something else was thrown into the mix." Yes, that most certainly is the panic face. "Contrary to popular belief Mulder, I have feelings. I know that neither of us have taken them into consideration for the duration of our partnership, but lately I feel as though it's time to address this situation for what it truly is." "And that is what exactly?" he asks, shifting his weight to his other foot. "We have a relationship Mulder. It was built in partnership, and maintained in friendship. I think, no, I *know* that it worked well for us in the past, but I've moved on Mulder," I say, re-crossing my arms. "I need more from you now. And if you're not willing to give me any more, then I need to know so I can move on with my life." I see a tear trail down his cheek and I have to look away before I break. "If all we can have together is the partnership," I continue, "Then I, I can't do it anymore." He just stares at me and shifts his weight again as he lowers his head. "I'm resigning from the FBI," I say, surprised by my own decision. "What?" His head shoots up instantly. "Scully, no..." "Mulder, if you don't give me a good reason to stay, then it would just be about the job and nothing else, and I don't want that. I've lost my passion for the FBI. I could just as easily have a career in medicine somewhere else..." "Is that what you want?" he asks, his voice taking on a pouty tone that I find hard to take in. "No," I answer, shaking my head. "No it isn't what I want." "Then what do you want Scully?" "I want the friendship Mulder. And I want the relationship that goes with it." "I see," he says, looking back towards the floor. "So I make it your choice Mulder, the cards are in your hands," I say, steeling myself for the answer that I know is coming. He takes a deep breath and I can't remember a time when a simple breath took so long to exhale. "What if I made you a deal?" he says, looking back up at me. "A deal," I state rather than ask. He nods and I allow him to continue. "What if we had all three?" he asks hopefully. "All three?" "The partnership, the friendship *and* the relationship?" "That would be a hard thing to juggle," I say, my voice becoming a little lighter in tone. "It would take some work," he agrees, nodding. "And you'd be willing to do this? You'd be willing to allow me to take up more of your life and crowd your personal space on the job and off?" "Sounds like crap when you say it," he jokes, and I allow myself to snicker. "You're serious though?" I ask, allowing myself to become somewhat hopeful. "Is this the face of a man that would lie to you?" he asks, grinning from ear to ear. "It's the face of a man that would run off and leave me behind fretting over whether or not I'd ever see him again," I counter. "Ouch," he says, putting his hand over his heart. "So then it's agreed?" I ask, getting back to business. "Cross my heart and hope to die..." he says, illustrating the saying with an "X" over his chest. I begin to laugh and it's not entirely his fault. "So what now?" he asks lowering his voice as he begins to walk towards me. "I should probably go and tell Ryan that I'm okay," I answer, pointing towards the door. "Ryan?" he asks, stopping dead in his tracks. Did I mention the fact that he's a bit paranoid? "I kind of fell into his arms earlier," I begin to explain. His brow furrows and I sigh, deciding not to fool him. "I was crying and he took me in," I said, seeing his face soften as his guilt face emerged from beneath the smile. He steps forward again and bows his head in shame. "Scully, I'm sorry about that. I never meant to make you cry." "I'm sorry too about what I said before. I was wrong to bring up your sister," I say, extending a hand to urge his face upwards. I see something, -pain flicker in his eyes before he closes them. "It's okay Scully, you were right." "Still, I shouldn't have said it," I say, quickly becoming uncomfortable with the conversation. "Scully, I may never be able to fill that void in my life, but that doesn't mean you aren't part of it. I need you just as much as you need me," he says, stepping in closer to me. "We're partners remember?" His face moves closer to mine and at the last moment, he moves to the side, burying his face in my neck as his arms encircle me. He inhales as I exhale, his breath hitting my neck and making the flesh there tingle. His head moves and I feel his lips upon my ear. "Let me show you Scully," he whispers, "Let me show you how I need you." I feel a familiar warmth in my abdomen, a rush of emotion choking in my throat. "What about Ryan?" I ask breathlessly. His lips encircle my lobe and he pulls it into his mouth. I close my eyes as my body surrenders, giving full control over to my future lover. His mouth releases my ear and I feel his lips make a small path from my lobe to the crook of my neck. "You smell so good Scully," he tells me, but I'm too far gone to respond. "Do you like it when I talk to you like this?" His voice, oh God. He's making love to me already and he doesn't even know it. I nod. "Scully, do you want to go to your bedroom now?" I nod. He retracts himself from me and looks into my eyes. They are heavy-lidded and he is obviously aroused judging by his pupil dilation. I would expect to see the same in my eyes. He lifts his hand to touch my face, cupping my cheek as he leans forward to meet my lips with his. This kiss is slow and erotic, emotion filled and oh so sweet. I could never tired of kissing this man, and to think, this is only the beginning. He breaks away too soon and his eyes are even darker than before. He tugs at my hand and I follow, feeling that fluttering sensation once again in my stomach, only this time it's a little deeper. Once inside the sanctuary of my bedroom, he sheds his jacket before pulling me back into his arms. His lips ravage mine in a deep kiss, his tongue plunging into my mouth as I moan into his. This all seems so surreal. His hands move up the front of my blouse and he cups by breasts through the material. I take my hands from his chest and locate the bottom of my shirt, gripping the material and pulling it over my head. My bra quickly become our main objective, and the foul thing is removed as soon as humanely possible. He kisses me again as his hands knead into my shoulders and biceps. His mouth trails down my chin and neck as he bends to put his hands on my waist. He draws me closer to him as his lips move to my breast, taking my erect nipple into his mouth. My hands rest on the top of his head as he kneels on the floor in front of me. His hands travel around my ribs and back, mapping every inch of skin on my midsection as he suckles at my breast. His mouth leaves my nipple with an audible "pop" and he looks up at me dawning a mischievous grin. His eyes hold mine as he moves his mouth to my other breast, closing them as his lips close around my nipple. I lean my head back and moan, feeling a warm rush of liquid pool somewhere deep inside of me. His hands find the top button of my slacks and he undoes it, pulling the zipper down before yanking the material over my hips. I steady myself by holding onto his shoulder as I step out of my slacks. "Sit down on the bed," he instructs, and I eagerly oblige him. He begins to undress and I find myself mesmerized by the sight. The way his abdominal muscles flex as he pulls off his shirt makes me lick my lips. He walks towards me and my eyes are drawn to the small patch of skin between his navel and the button of his jeans. I reach for him when he stands in front of me and I run my knuckles down his stomach, fanning my fingers out over the patch of skin that I had been lusting after. I begin to unbutton the fly of his jeans and lean forward to taste the tender patch of skin just above his boxers. His fingers find my hair and entwine themselves in it as I pull his jeans over his hips towards the floor. My fingers hook into the elastic band of his boxers and I pull them over his hips to join his jeans at his ankles. He steps out of them and stands gloriously naked and fully erect in front of me. I raise my eyes to look at him watching me intently as his thumbs caress my cheeks. We share a quiet gaze that expresses the emotions that we are feeling before smiling at each other. This was really happening. I take his hand in mine and press a kiss on his palm before pulling him toward me and onto the bed. We work together to shed the final clothing boundary from my body, and his body finds it's natural place atop mine. His warmth and scent envelopes my senses, the feel of his skin against mine is absolutely heavenly. We kiss again, tasting each other as we mold our bodies together on my bed. He pulls from our kiss, which leaves us both gasping for air. His hands frame my face and his hazel eyes ream into mine. "You are so beautiful Scully," he says, still holding my eyes with his. I kiss him, it's the only thing I can think to do under the circumstances. His hands skim down my body and come to rest on my hips where he kneads and massages for a moment. His right hand moves down my thigh and slowly draws up the inside of it. His fingers make contact with the outer layers of skin where I want so badly to feel his touch. I moan into his mouth and he takes the hint, dipping his fingers inside my warmth. I arch my back and break away from his mouth as he gathers moisture to slicken my highly tender bud of flesh. I bend my knees and spread my legs further apart to give him access and he groans when I lock my ankles behind his knees. The feel of his fingers inside of me is amazing, but it's not nearly enough. I want more of him. I reach around and place my hands on his perfect sized ass, digging my nails into his flesh as he strokes a particularly sensitive area on my clit. He hisses through gritted teeth and I know the pain I've caused him was more pleasurable than painful. "Mulder," I moan, my hips twitching as he continues his merciless assault on my sensitive flesh. He hums what I think is a reply and I try to speak again. "Mulder I want you inside..." He groans and shifts above me, removing his skillful hand to rest by my side on the bed as he steadies himself. I reach down to caress him and I watch as his face contorts when I make contact. I circle the very tip of his erection with my thumb and his mouth drops open, his breath hitting my face in short bursts. "Inside," I say again, taking hold of him and pulling gently downwards. I tilt my hips up as I guide him inside of me slowly before letting go and holding onto his strong bicep. He sinks into me slowly and I hear him groan something that sounds like, "Ngghh.." when he is fully submerged. My neck goes slack and my head hits the pillow as my internal muscles relax and adapt to him. "You okay?" I hear him ask close to my ear, and I nod in reply. He begins to move inside of me slowly and I try hard to keep my hips rotating in rhythm with his strokes. It isn't long before we've set up a working rhythm that brings us both pleasure. We're both breathing rather harshly and every once in a while I hear him grunt as he drives himself inside of me. In the many years of working with Mulder, I'd had fantasies sure, but none would compare to this. The sensations that he is creating are beyond description and I feel like at any given moment I could fly. I tilt my pelvis downwards, causing a heavenly friction between us that drives me over the edge. My body freezes as I dig my nails into his back, signaling my release. He makes more deliberate sweeping motions with his hips to prolong my orgasm and my body finally falls slack with satisfaction. He stops his movements and waits for me to open my eyes. "Scully," he says hoarsely, "Can you get on your knees?" I nod and bite my bottom lip and he withdrawals himself, sitting back on his heels as I roll over in the bed. I raise up on my knees and look back at him over my shoulder, telling him silently that I am ready. He kneels behind me and pulls my hips toward him, guiding himself once again inside of me. I hear him hold and release a breath before beginning to move his hips against me, holding onto mine with both hands. I surrender completely to him once again as he picks up speed, driving inside of me with short, shallow strokes. I hear him grunting louder and I feel his grip tighten on me. A few strokes later, he groans loudly and his movements cease. I hear his labored breaths as he comes down from the hormonal high and he slowly pulls his body from mine. I collapse face first into my pillow, feeling him do the same behind me. I wait quietly for his breath to even out, and I peel back the sheets that we are laying on. I urge him to do the same and he crawls between the sheets with me, spooning up against my back and throwing his arm around my waist. He drops kisses on any part of my skin that he can easily reach and I smile, loving the fact that he still has enough energy to do that. He nuzzles his nose into the back of my neck and whispers what I can only guess are the words "Love you Scully," before I hear a light snoring sound from behind me. I reach down to take his hand in mine and I lightly trace imaginary patterns over his fingers before lacing them together with mine. And ever so slowly, I drift asleep. I wake to the sun peaking through the clouds as if acting as my alarm clock. For a moment I have a sense of dread for the day, -an every day occurrence in my life. But just then, when I was lapsing into sadness; something wonderful happens. I hear a soft sigh come from behind me and I smile. It wasn't a dream after all. "You awake?" he asks and I answer with a lazy "Yeah," amidst a loud yawn as I stretch my arms over my head. "Sleep good?" he asks, his breath tickling my ear. "Mmm very good. How about you?" I ask, turning over to face him. His eyes are absolutely sparkling. I don't ever remember a time when I'd seen him so alive and so... happy. "Hey you," he grins, baring his teeth. "You are so beautiful this morning." "Oh," I laugh, "This morning huh? This morning as opposed to when?" He grins at me again. God he is so beautiful when he does that. "Oh, you always do look beautiful Scully, it's just that you look a *tad* more beautiful this morning," he illustrates the "tad" with his thumb and forefinger open about an inch apart from each other. "Sex looks good on you Scully." "It looks good on you too," I say, finally pinning that look in his eyes to be that of a man who just got lucky. We gaze at each other for a few moments before I let my smile fade and I change the subject. "So what are you fixing me for breakfast this morning?" I ask, arching my brow and fully expecting him to rattle off a complete menu. "Well," he says, pulling me closer. "I was thinking about having the Creme dela creme ala Scully for starters," he nuzzles into my neck. I snort. It's unladylike and completely abnormal, but I do. "You just snorted!" he exclaims, his mouth pulling away from my skin. His actions amuse me and I can't help but do it again. He laughs at me and rolls over, pulling the cover off before standing. His bare ass shines in the morning sun and it only makes me laugh harder, eliciting yet another snort from me. I don't know why it tickles me so to see him naked after what had happened last night, but it does. I guess I feel like a teenager again. "What?" he asks, looking over his shoulder at me. I point to his ass and he sticks out his bottom lip, acting as though I had hurt his feelings. "Awww," I say, trying desperately to stop laughing. "Uh-huh. You're just jealous is what you are," he quips, flexing the muscles of his ass. "These are class A ass cheeks Scully. They're gonna mount these on a wall somewhere when I die." "Yeah, maybe in Ripley's Believe It Or Not," I can't help but say, covering my mouth with my hand once it was out. "All right, that's it smart ass," he grins, lunging at me full force. And, I am lost. Partners, friends, and lovers. Who would have thought that you could have the best of all three worlds at once? ~Finito~ Author's Notes: Well, I hope you enjoyed this angst filled fic. I set out to make it intense, and hopefully I made it enjoyably so. I'd love to hear any comments on this story if you'd be so kind to send feedback. Thanks for reading, and God bless America!