Rated: K
My first fic, please review, even if you hate it. Espeacially if you hate it. Just say why, and not just "because it sucks".
I hope you like it....
Disclaimer: I own X-Files. And David Duchovny, if any one is interested. I'll rent you ownership of the X-Files for a small and very reasonable fee, but David is all mine....
Yeah. I wish.
Hips Before Hands...
The day i turned thirty, i realised i was in love.
I also learnt how to hit a baseball.
I'm still trying to figure out which one surprises me more, and when i think about it (which i often do) its probably the baseball.
I'd never played before. I'd never wanted to play before. The closest i'd come to baseball in any form before couple of seconds i spent looking at the screen whenever one of my brothers, and later on, Mulder,was watching it on tv. Oh, and i think i'd maybe held a baseball mit.
For a couple of seconds.
I'm not athletic. My eyes glaze over just thinking about most sports, and while i've been to a couple of football/basketball games before, it was always with Mulder, he was always paying, it was almost always a surprise, and he only started taking me to games a year or so ago.
That was a little after i had my first dream about Mulder (it wasn't anything serious- he was more a background character in the whole twisted plot) and a little before i started to wonder-completely out of the blue- what it might be like to kiss him.
And a lot before i started to wonder- not so out of the blue this time- what Mulder might do if i ever tried to kiss him, how drunk we'd have to be for it not to matter if it went wrong, and how much trouble we'd be in if anyone ever found out. (I finally figured out the answers to the last two questions a few days ago. The answers are "very" and "a lot" for both of them.)
Anyway. The baseball games. I know i've said i don't like baseball. I don't. But omigod, i can remember every minute of every one of the baseball games Mulder has ever taken me to.
Not the baseball part of the baseball game. I mean all the other details- what i was wearing, what he was wearing. The weather, the colour of the plastic seats, the taste of the sodas, the smell of the wet grass when it rained the second time.... All the tiny, completely insignificant details no one except me cared about.
Absorbing the details: It's what you do, when you're out with someone, and you've been waiting and waiting and waiting for this, to be with them, just the two of you. And you've thought about it for ever, imaigined what it would be like over and over again, espeacially at night when you can't sleep, when you're stuck in traffic and bored out of your mind, when you're at work and he's sitting just across from you at his desk, looking all intensly at this peice of paper, half-frowning, his hair flopping across his forehead in a way that makes you ache to lean over and push it back.
And you're sitting there, and you're watching him. And you remember tha it was like this, exactly like this, a month ago, or a bit longer, when you looked up and realised that you loved him.
Not like a jolt of electricity, not like a burst of light, like they say in books. No, it's quieter than that. It's not a shock or a huge surprise, because after a couple of seconds have passed, it feels completely normal. Because of him, because of how he is, beause of how he's considerate and brave and stubborn and intelligent and he makes you laugh and he drives you crazy and when you think about it, when you really, seriously think about it (which you haven't done until this moment) there is no one you would rather be with. You know, as calmly as as you know your own name, that you would risk everything for him, to be with him. Because you love him.
And then, once your mind has cleared and you are working again, you come to the point that is like missing a step on a dark staircase. Or stepping off a cliff. Because now that you know that you love him, the easy asumptions you had made about your relationship before are flung up into the air.
You don't feel the same way about him. And you have no idea how he feels about you.
I know this must sound kind of pathetic,it's like something i'd write in my diary when i was about 16 (omigod, he looked at me again todayyyyy!). What can i say, i guess i haven't matured that much, under the surface. (Except that i dont keep a diary anymore- living my life is exhausting enough without writing about it too)
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I might write more, but only if people read and review. Mwahahaha *black mailing you because i need reviews like i need marshmellows and scented candles* :)