Author's Notes: Of course I own nothing... just playing a bit.

I've decided that this little piece takes place somewhere in season 7, so it's sort of AU, as you'll hopefully understand when you read it.

Scully listened to the sound of Mulder's heartbeat, her head resting on his bare shoulder, her left hand resting on his bare chest. She felt his arms wrapped around her body; felt the heat of him as they lay there together, and somehow, even though it felt incredibly right, she couldn't stand to remain that way a moment longer. Easing herself out of the embrace, Scully got up from the bed, grabbing Mulder's bathrobe on her way out of his bedroom.

As she stepped under the warm spray of the shower, Scully smoothed her hair back and tried to focus on nothing. Thoughts and images plagued her brain, however, and she couldn't explain what she was feeling; she couldn't even pinpoint what exactly she was feeling. Scully couldn't remember how it had happened; she couldn't remember how she had come to Mulder's apartment that night, or how she had ended up in his bed. It was probably just like any other night: a movie and a beer, unwinding from whatever odd case they'd just come off of. What had happened in between had been anything but part of the routine, however. That part remained vivid: the softness of his touch, his hands on her body, his lips on hers…

Scully had always known that Mulder treated her with a special, gentle affection; a sort of tenderness that she could see when he looked at her, feel when he touched her: even when they had first begun working with one another, she'd noticed his hand at the small of her back, guiding her. It was something that she took for granted now; yet still something she found comfort in.

Scully let her mind wander back to words the Smoking Man had told her not too long ago: he'd said that she would follow Mulder to the ends of the earth, that she'd risk her life for him, but that she wouldn't allow herself to love him. Was that the problem? After all the years of working by his side, investing in each other's lives and souls… was she still afraid to open her heart to this man? It didn't seem as though that was the answer; it felt wrong; it felt contrived, like something she was trying too hard to figure out. Things like this had always been Mulder's department; he was able to make the intuitive leaps while Scully remained forever and always half a step behind, looking to trusted axioms and rules, looking to her science and what was concrete. There was no science to this; no rules to explain what she was feeling now, she concluded as she turned the faucet, ending her shower.

Wrapping herself in Mulder's much too large bathrobe, she cursed softly as she nearly tripped on her way back to the bedroom. Once there, she allowed a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness and then carefully searched the room for her clothes.

Mulder stirred in the bed and blinked sleepily. His brow creased and his left arm immediately searched the sheets beside him. Finding nothing, he propped himself up on his elbows and found a petite figure moving around in the dark.

"Scully?" he questioned.

She stopped, in defeat: her escape had been discovered. "I'm here."

Mulder sat up fully, squaring his shoulders before slumping them, allowing his arms to rest limply in from on him on the bed. "Leaving a man's bed in the middle of the night doesn't do much for an ego." His own eyes now adjusted to the dark, he was able to focus on Scully's face and gave her a weak smile.

Sighing, Scully returned to her side of the bed, sitting on the edge of it, her head down and angled so that her back was mostly to him. "I'm sorry." She paused a moment, "I just needed a minute to get out of my own head."

Mulder stared at the back of her head, nodding slightly. When he had kissed her earlier in the night, initiating a new aspect of their relationship, it had been borne from his own desires; he selfishly hadn't thought much about what would happen after. Mulder knew, and had known for some time that her heart already belonged to him, just as she was in complete ownership of his. Though neither had spoken it, it had been understood, somewhat subconsciously, for some time. As he continued staring at her head, all the while wishing he could see her eyes, he realized that this battle would be fought over her brain and not her heart.

"Did it work?" he asked.

Scully's eyes closed and she turned her head so that she could see him in her peripheral vision. "No."

Mulder cast his own eyes downward and clenched his jaw. "Do you regret…?"

"No." she answered quickly. Another beat, and then Scully turned and sat on the bed so that she could face him. "No." she repeated. "I just… it's…" she struggled with her words. " I feel like everything has changed, but at the same time, nothing really has… I don't know." Scully sighed again, placing a hand over her eyes. "It doesn't make any sense."

"No." Mulder's own hand reached up to remove hers. He turned so that he was completely facing her and brought his other hand between them. He focused his attention on her hand between both of his: "It makes sense." He reflected, before looking back up to meet her eyes, which were now searching him for the answer that she trusted he would supply. "I think this has been a long time in coming; this isn't the kind of Hollywood make-believe that's full of lust and fleeting moments of passion," he paused and rubbed soft circles on the back of her hand with his thumb, "but a deeper love that's built on respect and friendship and trust. The only thing that changed last night was that it became physical." Mulder continued to watch her, waiting for some sign. He could still see the confusion in her eyes, but he knew her completely – so completely that he knew the battle was half won. "Come here." He whispered, holding his arms out to her.

Scully crawled over the space between them and into Mulder's embrace. They lay back on the back together, just as before and she let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

Mulder lay there for just a moment, feeling the warmth of her breath on his skin, her eyelashes fluttering as her lids dropped. He smiled. "You know," he whispered, playing with some of the extra terry cloth of his robe over her small body, "I liked it better when you were naked and under the blankets with me..." A brief pause, until he knew that she was smiling as well, "…but I'll take what I can get."

Scully did smile, and she listened to the beating of his heart, a sort of lullaby pulling her into the deep recesses of sleep. She closed her eyes and felt the strength and warmth and tenderness of Mulder's arms around her… and it felt right.

Author's Notes: I recently was on an X-Files kick and went back and watched a bunch of episodes, and this is what I came up with. I've also been reading some of the fics out there, and decided I really don't like the blatant "I love you" coming from either Mulder or Scully – it doesn't seem in character. I like the idea that they've loved each other very profoundly for a long time, so much so that they were at the point where turning the relationship physical just seemed like the next step. I also love the idea of them being the sort of two puzzle pieces: I hope that came across in the story: I wanted there to be the very defined role of Scully having the very mathematical mind and Mulder being the intuitive, in the philosophical sense: the perfect complement, one filling in gaps where the other could not.