Disclaimer: insert disclaimer here as long as it says i don't own 'em and ain't making any $$$ it's kewl...
Summary: There are days when I ache for more. Scully POV. MSR.
A/N: This was originally written back in 1998! It was posted to ATXC back in the day, but it never made it to Gossamer. With the X-Files filming new episodes, I decided to dig up and dust off some old stuff and post it here. Enjoy really crappy stuff written by almost 20 years ago me.
Ache
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There are days when I ache for more.
For more than this professional veneer.
For more than a gaze, a glance, to drink in the sight of him. More than a shared look, a meeting of our eyes. More than a touch, a brush of his fingers along my back, my shoulder, my arm.
Everyday we tease, dare, pick, and prod to see who will break this tension first. We dance around it. Avoid it. Deny it.
But it exists.
This intangible feeling of awareness. Of knowing each others thoughts, actions, emotions. Knowing that we are connected. Bonded. Together. Forever.
This is behind every thought, every action, every spoken word.
This tension, this flame. It is in his eyes. His voice. His touch. Burning a hole in my soul.
And sometimes, I want more.
I want to wake every morning encircled by his strong arms, safe within his embrace. I want to walk down the street with his hand in mine, proclaiming to the world our eternal connection. I want to spend our nights, drunk on each other's kisses, entangled together in our bed.
I want to feel his hands against my skin. I want to feel his skin against my hands. His hands on my neck, my hands in his hair. Our hands, our foreheads, our lips, our tongues. Together.
I want to feel heat and passion. I want to melt into him. To lose control, this control that keeps us proper. Professional. Forever entwined, but still apart.
And I can tell. He wants it too.
But we don't always get what we want.
We are content with what we have. Knowing that this is more than most people feel in a lifetime. Knowing that now is not the time. Knowing that being together is enough.
For now.
But one day, some day. When we are both free of our duties, our ghosts, our fears, we can - and will - have more.
As sure as I am in my love for him. As sure as I am in his love for me. We will have more.
And as his hand goes to its familiar spot on my back, as his fingertips graze the material of my jacket, I allow myself a moment. A second. To lean back and revel in the pressure of his hand, before we both, reluctantly, pull slowly away.
And I ache.
I ache for more.
A/N2: If you'd like Mulder's POV, please go read "The Simplest Thing" by Morning Angel on Gossamer dot org. Morning Angel and I wrote these separately, unknowning that we were writing about the same thing, but from different POV. We were quite happy to find our stories complimented each other so well. :-)
