An Out
by Kat
CATEGORY: M/S UST
RATING: PG-13ish for innuendo
SPOILERS: Post-"Truth." Little, *little* bits from all over the series, including the finale. You should have seen theses eps by now!
SUMMARY: Yeah, the finale was forever ago, I know. Just an M/S moment and maybe a way for CC and 1013 to get out of the hole they dug with the last 2 seasons and onto a MOVIE!
DISCLAIMER: If they were mine, I'd keep Mulder under my desk. checking Damn.
ARCHIVE: anywhere! just let me know.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is my first attempt at fanfic. I got tired of waiting for news about the movie and this was flitting around my head. Please be kind! feedback ksteckla@temple.edu
************
"Mulder?"
Mulder's eyes were still closed. He was exactly where he wanted to be. No aliens. No smoking men. No government conspiracies. No torture. No other, albeit well-meaning, agents crashing the party. No orange jumpsuit. He could finally wrap his arms around the "Truth" and even throw his leg over her as well. Yep, nothing between him and his new Pursuit, Quest, Journey, blah, blah, blah, but a gray t-shirt, jeans, and a bathrobe.
She nuzzled his face with her nose. He smiled and sighed, "Maybe there is hope."
"Star Wars?"
Mulder's head jerked up and squinted in the fluorescent flickering light. Scully stood before him, arms crossed, with a slight smirk.
"You were talking in your sleep."
Mulder became aware of his surroundings. Still in the basement. His desk was still here. He glanced down at himself and saw his ID badge. He looked back up at Scully, who was starting to give him one of her patented, "What the hell's going on?" looks-- one eyebrow slowly rising. He was relieved, but a little confused, to see that her hair was shorter than in his dream and fuller. She also didn't look so bloated. Not that he cared that much, because she was still his Scully no matter what, but he was confused as to why he would dream about her as less than perfection-- definitely not how Scully usually appeared in his fantasies, and come too think of it, she definitely had on way too much clothing. Strange, because he was pretty sure they had just had sex in his dream. Only explanation for why he was wearing a different colored shirt and she had on a robe. But why was he only privy to the post-coital scene in his subconscious? Surely--
"MULDER! As you sit there staring at me from la-la land, your drool is getting crusty on my report. Could you at least wipe it off?"
Mulder glanced down. He remembered reading this now. As usual, she left out the most significant part of the case. In this instance, she forgot to mention the genie. At some point in his brooding he must have nodded off and had one very vivid hallucination about the next two years of their lives. Although he seemed to spend more time on her life. Scully crying on his bed. Scully pushing around a stroller. Scully reading e-mail from him-- "Dearest Dana"-- he had to snicker at that. Scully running around a desert yelling his name. Scully hot and sweaty tied face down on a bed and then he walks-- wait, that's not him.
"Who's Doggett?" Oops, said that aloud.
Scully, by this time, was on his side of the desk. She had to feel his forehead. Yes, this song and dance. Scully's preferred outlet was to constantly check him for ailments. There she goes-- hand to the forehead, slide to his cheek, then her hand in his hair.
His preferred outlet (at work), however, was more shameless. "Think I need a full physical?" with eyebrows, of course, waggling.
She leaned back against his desk and smiled at him. The slow one that he imagined said, "Why do I put up with this creep" unaware that she was in fact thinking, "Damn he's cute when he's crazy." She pictured him restrained to a hospital bed saying "You're my one in five billion" and her smile deepened. Granted, she had no explanation for his behavior, but Scully was finally starting to acknowledge her science might be able to explain a lot of things, but definitely not the way her partner's brain operated.
He grinned back. Flashes of kissing her. Holding her. Wanting her. Missing her. Elation at seeing her and finally, *feeling* her. He wanted to run that gamut again. And he wanted her to feel it too. Not just a dream, or a Scully look-a-like in 1939, or a shape shifting loser.
HIs grin faded. His dream still felt so real, he had to express some of this emotion to her. His face got serious, as did hers as her eyes searched his face, still puzzled.
"That time, well, in the hospital, the um, Bermuda Triangle. . ." He cursed at himself-- why couldn't he get this out? Any other scenario, he can spout off whatever he's thinking, without a care to how others may interpret his theories. But this. . .
"I wasn't drugged."
Scully's smile faded, but then understanding as her eyes lit with a smile, and the smallest lift to the corner of her lips.
"I know."
CATEGORY: M/S UST
RATING: PG-13ish for innuendo
SPOILERS: Post-"Truth." Little, *little* bits from all over the series, including the finale. You should have seen theses eps by now!
SUMMARY: Yeah, the finale was forever ago, I know. Just an M/S moment and maybe a way for CC and 1013 to get out of the hole they dug with the last 2 seasons and onto a MOVIE!
DISCLAIMER: If they were mine, I'd keep Mulder under my desk. checking Damn.
ARCHIVE: anywhere! just let me know.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is my first attempt at fanfic. I got tired of waiting for news about the movie and this was flitting around my head. Please be kind! feedback ksteckla@temple.edu
************
"Mulder?"
Mulder's eyes were still closed. He was exactly where he wanted to be. No aliens. No smoking men. No government conspiracies. No torture. No other, albeit well-meaning, agents crashing the party. No orange jumpsuit. He could finally wrap his arms around the "Truth" and even throw his leg over her as well. Yep, nothing between him and his new Pursuit, Quest, Journey, blah, blah, blah, but a gray t-shirt, jeans, and a bathrobe.
She nuzzled his face with her nose. He smiled and sighed, "Maybe there is hope."
"Star Wars?"
Mulder's head jerked up and squinted in the fluorescent flickering light. Scully stood before him, arms crossed, with a slight smirk.
"You were talking in your sleep."
Mulder became aware of his surroundings. Still in the basement. His desk was still here. He glanced down at himself and saw his ID badge. He looked back up at Scully, who was starting to give him one of her patented, "What the hell's going on?" looks-- one eyebrow slowly rising. He was relieved, but a little confused, to see that her hair was shorter than in his dream and fuller. She also didn't look so bloated. Not that he cared that much, because she was still his Scully no matter what, but he was confused as to why he would dream about her as less than perfection-- definitely not how Scully usually appeared in his fantasies, and come too think of it, she definitely had on way too much clothing. Strange, because he was pretty sure they had just had sex in his dream. Only explanation for why he was wearing a different colored shirt and she had on a robe. But why was he only privy to the post-coital scene in his subconscious? Surely--
"MULDER! As you sit there staring at me from la-la land, your drool is getting crusty on my report. Could you at least wipe it off?"
Mulder glanced down. He remembered reading this now. As usual, she left out the most significant part of the case. In this instance, she forgot to mention the genie. At some point in his brooding he must have nodded off and had one very vivid hallucination about the next two years of their lives. Although he seemed to spend more time on her life. Scully crying on his bed. Scully pushing around a stroller. Scully reading e-mail from him-- "Dearest Dana"-- he had to snicker at that. Scully running around a desert yelling his name. Scully hot and sweaty tied face down on a bed and then he walks-- wait, that's not him.
"Who's Doggett?" Oops, said that aloud.
Scully, by this time, was on his side of the desk. She had to feel his forehead. Yes, this song and dance. Scully's preferred outlet was to constantly check him for ailments. There she goes-- hand to the forehead, slide to his cheek, then her hand in his hair.
His preferred outlet (at work), however, was more shameless. "Think I need a full physical?" with eyebrows, of course, waggling.
She leaned back against his desk and smiled at him. The slow one that he imagined said, "Why do I put up with this creep" unaware that she was in fact thinking, "Damn he's cute when he's crazy." She pictured him restrained to a hospital bed saying "You're my one in five billion" and her smile deepened. Granted, she had no explanation for his behavior, but Scully was finally starting to acknowledge her science might be able to explain a lot of things, but definitely not the way her partner's brain operated.
He grinned back. Flashes of kissing her. Holding her. Wanting her. Missing her. Elation at seeing her and finally, *feeling* her. He wanted to run that gamut again. And he wanted her to feel it too. Not just a dream, or a Scully look-a-like in 1939, or a shape shifting loser.
HIs grin faded. His dream still felt so real, he had to express some of this emotion to her. His face got serious, as did hers as her eyes searched his face, still puzzled.
"That time, well, in the hospital, the um, Bermuda Triangle. . ." He cursed at himself-- why couldn't he get this out? Any other scenario, he can spout off whatever he's thinking, without a care to how others may interpret his theories. But this. . .
"I wasn't drugged."
Scully's smile faded, but then understanding as her eyes lit with a smile, and the smallest lift to the corner of her lips.
"I know."