Arcadia Continues
Chapter 2
The same day, but from Mulder's POV
When he first saw the case come across his desk, Fox Mulder was nonplussed. How many of these silly cases were they going to stick him and Scully with? Some crazed suburbanite running rampant in an upscale planned community? This was absolutely ridiculous as far as he was concerned. How was this FBI business?
As he read a little closer, however, his interest piqued. The community in question was so tightly knit, so insular, that Skinner was requesting he and Scully go under cover as a married couple living in the neighborhood. Well now. Wouldn't that be an interesting twist? Two DC area singles from the FBI, posing as upmarket married snobs, living a perfectly false existence. Sighing, he realized he was being a little too harsh. Considering what life could deal out, he couldn't blame people for wanting to create a fiction that was more appealing. No alien abductions, no children sent away, no shady adulterous dealings….at least on the outside. Just perfect Ozzie & Harriet goodness with a cherry on top.
Smiling to himself, he realized the "cherry" in this case was getting to spend some time away from the Bureau and with Agent Scully. He had pretty much given up on the idea of them actually living together as a couple. His cynical mind refused to believe that she would ever feel the same sense of oneness he felt with her. On some level, he realized it was simply a façade his brain had manufactured to protect his heart. He didn't know if he could handle losing someone as important to him as Scully-not again.
He realized with a pang that this fake marriage was going to carry some awkwardness with it. Snuggling on the couch after a hard day? Probably not happening. Scully coming to him with her concerns and worries and wanting his advice? Not hardly. Carrying her over the threshold? She'd kill him.
He indulged himself in a bit of fantasy imagining sharing a big, plush bedroom with her. Big, four poster bed, soft luxurious sheets, and not a stitch of clothing between them…..
The phone rang. It was Scully. Perfect timing, he grinned to himself.
"Mulder are you done packing? I've spent three days working on it. I'm supposing you are just planning to throw a few things in a box at the very last minute." She sounded annoyed. He hoped she wasn't mad at him.
"Scully! Why is it you assume that?" he asked, innocently.
"So are you still packing?" she asked, impatiently.
"No Scully, I bought everything new and had it shipped." There was a long silence on the other end of the line that told him she did not find his solution terribly clever.
"Okay then, well, I'll come pick you up tomorrow morning at your place, okay?"
"Sure, that's great." He hung up the phone and contemplated whether he should return to his fantasy or head home and…well…actually pack the things that he hadn't had shipped.
As he drove home, he allowed his mind to wander again. Would they in fact be sharing a bedroom? It wasn't exactly something he could suggest; it would sound suggestive at best. He couldn't deny that he really wanted to. But on the other hand, it would be a fantastic form of torture to spend the whole night next to her beautiful, delicate, goddess-like person and not lay a hand on her. He had to shift a little bit in his seat as his pants started getting tight. And he was just thinking about her.
It had been like this for so long. He loved her on ever y level it was possible for a man to love a woman. He protected her, dreamed about her, rescued her, laid out his own troubles to her. He had cried on her shoulder, been held by her while he was sick, woken up wishing she was next to him. So many times it had been on the tip of his tongue to say "Please just stay tonight." But the words had been tainted by volumes of media that made them words of seduction, rather than just a simple invitation. It was true he wanted to make love to her. But it was so much more than just that. He longed for the simple, sweet, loving human contact of having her beautiful little self next to him.
She made him a better man. He wondered if she knew that.
He woke up the next morning to his cell phone ringing. Fumbling for it fell onto the floor, and he managed to find it and hit the talk button before it stopped ringing. "Mulder" he said sleepily.
"I can't believe you're still asleep! I'm five minutes away Mulder, get up and get ready." Scully hung up the phone and he sighed. He hadn't even begun his stint as a quasi-married man and he was already in trouble. He smiled as he pictured her angry-with-him expression. He hated to admit it, but it was completely adorable.
Hoisting himself up off the couch, he took the world's quickest shower and was just pulling on his shirt when Scully knocked on his door. "Coming!" he said, as he reached for the doorknob. Standing in his doorway was Scully as he had never seen her before-in brown tweed pants, a soft cream sweater, and a string of pearls. "Wow, you look nice." He smiled. She looked hot in her sharp little black suits, but today she looked softer, more vulnerable, more….like an upscale suburban housewife, he supposed.
"Mulder you're not dressed." She sighed and shook her head.
"I'm almost dressed, Scully! Give me a little credit!" he pulled out a LaCoste polo shirt and held it up for approval.
"Okay, put it on, let's get moving." She said. "We've got a long drive ahead of us."
All day they were busy moving, gathering evidence, and meeting the neighbors. Mulder set his mind to create a file of each individual and their behavior, their attitude, their potential motive. He didn't have time to really think about the fact that he and Scully were going to have to keep up a believable fiction of marriage. And he was somehow going to have to accomplish that without betraying the fact that he wished it weren't fiction.
Scully suddenly stood up and announced she needed to use the bathroom, and disappeared quickly. He hoped she wasn't sick. She looked like she was really upset. Maybe this neighborhood was already getting to her. Deciding against checking on her just yet, he instead sat back and looked at the mountain of boxes in the living room. Right at the top, in Scully's rounded yet purposeful handwriting, was a box labeled "bedroom". Not "bedroom 1" or "bedroom 2". Just "bedroom".
Had Scully also considered the "nosy neighbor" implications of separate bedrooms? These people seemed to know which drawer you kept your forks in, so he didn't doubt they'd be risking their cover story if they occupied separate ones. It couldn't be that Scully had….wanted to share a bedroom with him for any other reason, could it?
He was jarred from his reverie as she came out of the bathroom, her eyes red. She immediately returned to her evidence gloves and bags however, without even looking at him. If she was sick, or upset about something, she didn't want him to know. He decided to keep an eye on her, even more than usual, until he was sure she was okay.
That evening they had been invited to dinner at a neighbor's house. At least the food was good. He suffered through invasive questions, ridiculous snobbery, and probing inquiries about how many children they planned to have. He saw Scully stiffen as that issue was broached. He felt for her—he knew it was a sensitive topic for her.
"Really we consider adoption to be the most ethically responsible choice" he butted in, trying his best to redirect the question. The neighbors looked at him in surprise, and then went on to something else, clearly unsure how to respond. One point for him, he figured. But only one.
Guilt gnawed at his heart. He felt like it was his fault Scully couldn't have a baby, which he knew she wanted more than anything. It was his case that had put her in danger, and since her abduction she had been told she was now infertile. It was one of many times he had failed to protect her adequately, and he never stopped feeling the sting of failure for each and every lapse.
Beyond that, there was nothing he'd rather do than be able to give her what she wanted—that warm loving nuclear family in a sturdy little house, far away from the dangers of FBI work. He couldn't give her a baby, even if she would have him. He couldn't give her that sturdy house and secure marriage because he couldn't give up his life's work. And he couldn't even keep her safe as long as he was doing that.
He was brought back to earth by the clatter of plates—apparently he had made it through dinner and now the man of the house was going to show him his entertainment center while the wife and Scully took a walk. This was definitely weird. As the man chattered on about projection angles and digital media he continued to worry at the bedroom question. In addition to the awkwardness, he now had a heaping helping of guilt to slather on top of burning arousal. Should make for a restful night.
It turned out that he didn't really need to worry about bringing up what he privately thought of as The Bedroom Question because to his surprise, Scully brought it up for him. His heart melted inside as he watched her blush and try to act as though it weren't at all difficult for her to address. It almost allowed him to think that maybe she was looking forward to the experience….even just a little.
In the bedroom that was bigger than his whole apartment, he sat on an impossibly fluffy mattress between satiny soft sheets. He had his laptop out and was trying desperately to focus on creating some sort of outline to organize the evidence they had collected, but his mind was most certainly not on his job. How could it be, when he was sitting in nothing but boxer shorts, ready for Scully to join him in bed? He had spent 6 years fantasizing about evenings like this (well, slightly different evenings as well) and now he was sitting here in a king size bed, and she was going to join him as soon as she came out of the bathroom.
He sort of wondered what she was doing in there, but he knew that women sometimes spent inexplicably long periods of time in the bathroom, and it was best not to ask them what they were doing. He was just trying to refocus on his computer screen when the bathroom door opened, and he had to conceal a little gasp of surprise.
Scully, HIS Scully, who was more beautiful than any woman in the world, had managed to outdo even herself. Her petite little body shimmered in a clinging satin nightgown that brushed the floor, almost as if it were a little too long. It outlined the gentle curve of her hips and wrapped around her tiny waist. An edging of lace at the top left just enough to his imagination, cupping around the swells of her creamy smooth little breasts.
He realized he was staring. "Scully, you look absolutely stunning." He managed to say.
She blushed and her feet turned inward and she wrapped her arms around herself. It was a completely precious little move. "I didn't realize we'd be sharing a bedroom when I bought it. I figured….well I figured only I would see it." Fox Mulder realized he was an incredibly lucky man, if no one was supposed to see this gorgeous vision, and yet somehow he had gotten to.
He smiled at her as she made her way across the carpet to her side of the bed, keeping his laptop in place to hide the change in the topography of his body. She slipped into bed and faced away from him, and he fought the urge to spoon up right next to her and begin nibbling on her neck. How in the world was he going to get any sleep at all?
He closed his laptop and set it on the nightstand. Was she already asleep? Her eyes were closed, and she wasn't moving. It had been a very long day, and a stressful one as well. He had no trouble believing that she could be that tired. Easing himself down between the sheets, he watched for any sign of movement. Seeing that there was none, he leaned over and placed a kiss on her shoulder blade. "Good night, Laura." He whispered. Then he readied himself for a restless night, but apparently he was tired from moving too, as he was soon sound asleep as well.
Sun streamed through the window and Mulder woke up to find that his arms were wrapped protectively around Scully. A moment of panic and confusion crossed his sleep-addled mind-what had happened? Had they done….something…last night? Had she snuggled up to him? No, they were on her side of the bed. It must have been him that snuggled up to her. One of his hands was resting on her tummy, directly on that soft satin. He could feel her warm skin and the hollow of her belly button beneath his hand.
And suddenly, he realized he had a new problem. Not an unusual problem for a man, but definitely an embarrassing one to have when finding yourself with your body pressed up against your very attractive professional partner. Praying that she didn't wake up, he rolled away from her and locked himself in the bathroom. This was going to be one hell of a week.
Still keyed up and filled with nervous energy, he tried to lose himself in the rhythm of a good hard run. His heart pounded, his shoes hit the asphalt, and his mind raced. That fabulous nightie. She looked like a Hollywood starlet in it. Waking up next to her. Had his body betrayed his mind to the extent that he rolled over in his sleep to cuddle her? And the hand on the tummy-of course where a baby would grow, if she were ever able to get pregnant. But of course he had ruined that for her. And then to top it off, poking her in the butt with morning wood. Very smooth. He wasn't sure how he was going to face her today. He willed his mind to the case. Pretend it's an X file, he told himself. Put that much energy into it. Heaven knows you have the energy to spare.
He decided that nosy neighbors or not, it would be best if he spent the next night on the couch.
When night fell, he did just that, tossing and turning to try to find a comfortable spot in the too-hard couch. His couch was worn in all the right places. This one was clearly used only for sitting on it seemed—and very careful sitting at that. He grunted as he rolled again, and his blanket slid off. Sigh. He wasn't going to get much sleep here at all.
Again exhaustion had won out and he had unknowingly drifted off when he felt a little hand on his shoulder. He looked up, confused. It was Scully…or was it Laura? Were they still in Arcadia? Where was he, on the couch? He rolled towards her, and she smiled at him. How he loved that smile.
"Come to bed." She invited him. "You know I hate to sleep alone." Relief flooded him. Whatever had happened—whatever she had noticed or whatever she had not, she wasn't mad at him, and she had come looking for him in the wee hours of the morning. He was touched by that small gesture. It was the sort of thing that made him fall in love with her all over again. Dare he believe that, beneath all that awkwardness, maybe she had enjoyed having him sleep next to her? He knew he had slept better than he had in years, just knowing she was safe there next to him, right up next to his body, her soft skin touching him and softening his hardened heart.
"Scully I'm truly sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I didn't mean to take advantage of you."
"Mulder, it's okay. I actually slept quite nice snuggled up next to you." His heart swelled with love for her. That she had enjoyed being next to him, had taken comfort from his presence, and had felt safe with him, safe enough to sleep soundly, made him melt.
He reached up and pulled her in for a hug. "Let's just forget this awkwardness and try to get some sleep, huh?" This was just another thing on that list of things he loved about her. He couldn't imagine confessing that to anyone else. And yet he knew that she would understand. Six years together, and he felt comfortable revealing his own weaknesses to her, while he could do that with no one else in the world.
They climbed into the bed together. Sexual tension still crackled between them, but right now, they were just plain tired. They drifted together into the middle of the bed, and he reached out and found her hand with his. "Good night Mulder" she said softly.
"Good night Scully" he said, placing a kiss on her shoulder.
Tonight he waited until he was absolutely sure she was asleep before he lightly brushed her hair back from her ear. "I love you" he whispered, as softly as he possibly could. And then he fell asleep, her hand still entwined with his.
