Ever since that night in Dana's room, something had shifted between them. I chose this, he told himself. And yet… he was scared. The pull towards her was irresistible. When alone, his mind was consumed with thoughts of their next meeting. Then the guilt settled over him. Not only had his pursuit of his sister all but halted, but Madam's warnings that he'd inevitably ruin everything he touched.
His brain worked opposite to his heart - like a magnet shifting polarities, pulling him closer and pushing him away with equal force.
He owed it to Samantha to find her, and he owed it to Dana to ensure she had someone she could count on. Especially after all that she'd been through. He seethed at the thought that her brothers could so utterly betray her like that. How could he possibly give her everything she deserved, when he was only half of a man on his best days?
Mulder pushed away his thoughts as he worked. He hammered away in the stables behind the brothel, adding onto the structure under the careful supervision of the caretaker, John, who'd reluctantly allowed him to help.
"Wait! Wait, Mulder…" the other man interrupted, adjusting the plank of wood so it rested just a little more to the left. Mulder didn't see a difference, so he shrugged and returned to hammering, pulling a nail from where he held them in his mouth.
John Byers was a bit of a jack-of-all-trades for the Madam. Taking care of small repairs, picking up supplies. He was thin, brown-haired, with a small goatee, and he was as skittish as a colt any time he had to actually enter the building or interact with any of the girls. So, mostly, he stayed to himself. Mulder discovered his keen mind soon after arriving all those years ago, so they'd developed a bit of a bond, discussing philosophy and more complicated topics that were beyond most of the rest of the staff here.
"You seem to be spending a lot of time with that Schaefer woman," John commented. Mulder, having just banished thoughts of her from his mind, dropped the hammer onto the ground, his hands suddenly sweaty.
"We haven't really talked much since I've been back, have we?" Mulder said, retrieving the hammer and wiping his hands on his trousers.
"Thought you'd forgotten about me."
"We should catch up then, how about dinner?"
John nervously looked back towards the building. "We don't need to stay here for that do we?"
Mulder chuckled, stripping down to only his undershirt and trousers. He'd been sweating with the work but hadn't felt so warm until John brought up Dana. He hoped his flush at his thoughts about her would be disguised under the glare of the oppressive sun. It wouldn't do for anyone to think there was anything more than a friendship between him, he knew how rumors had the potential to ruin her. He'd have to be more careful when he visited her room.
It felt good to exert himself, though, to banish his endless introspection, at least temporarily. He inhaled fully, smiling despite the sharp tang of horse and hay and manure. Underneath it all was the clean smell of the pine lumber. How different this was than the usual places he frequented, hoping for some word of his sister - the smoke-filled interiors, the sweet scent of whiskey and the vile smell of death and sickness.
Once the structure he'd been building had a good frame, and his work consisted of the repetitive laying of planks side-by-side, John stopped hovering. He wandered away, mumbling wanting to complete a delivery before he had to navigate the late afternoon crowds.
Hoist up the plank, place the nail, hammer, place another nail, hammer. The methodical work lulled him into a comforting rhythm. He shut everything out, his mind a pleasing blank.
"I missed you at lunch."
Mulder slammed the hammer into the wood instead of the nail, nearly hitting his thumb. He turned around, seeing Dana standing there with a bottle of soda. The condensation dripped over her hand as she held the drink out to him.
"I thought you could use this, working hard out here in the heat," she said.
He stared as he set down his hammer and took the proffered drink, the brief touch of her cold fingers against his own causing his heart to leap in his chest. There was something… different about her. She seemed nervous, or was he merely seeing a reflection of his own state of mind?
As he drank, he saw a flush creep up into her cheeks before she turned away.
"You want some, too?"
"I'm fine, Mulder."
Instead of leaving, she swept off a chair nearby and sat. Well, it was going to be considerably more complicated to work with her here. He had a feeling John would be cursing his name when he had to redo the stall - crooked planks and nails bent every which way due to his distraction. Nevertheless, he worked away, hoping to push her from his mind as she chatted, seemingly oblivious to her effect on him.
He was sweating profusely now, trying to listen while pushing his body to its limit, hoping he wouldn't have room for anything else other than her words and the work. Pulling the hem of his shirt from his trousers, he wiped his brow as sweat dripped into his eyes.
"...the effects of poison on—"
Her voice disappeared with a soft gasp, and he turned towards her in alarm. The faint flush in her cheeks was now tinged a deeper shade of red. She was focused intently on him, her blue eyes dark, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
"You okay, Dana?"
His body worked as his mind stumbled. The hammer he'd been using slammed into his finger, and shooting pain traveled along his arm. Every thought, as he'd wished earlier, vanished from his mind. He regretted his wish.
"Aw, FUCK!"
Dana rushed over to him, hand on his arm. "Oh, Mulder… let me see."
His hand, covered in sawdust and dirt, wasn't much to look at. She guided him over to the water pump, and helped him clean it off while he bit his lip and tried his hardest not to swear again. When she touched his thumb, the gentleness he was so used to from her was gone, in its place the physician she'd been meant to be - unsympathetic and efficient.
"Ouch!" He pouted, pulling away his hand.
"Stop it." She held out her hand, her voice firm. "Give me your hand, I need to check it."
He grumbled, but gave his hand back, looking away and tensing his whole body as she examined him. When she manipulated his finger, he winced, but he thought, perhaps, the pain wasn't so bad. Peeking at her out of the corner of his eyes, he saw her future as it should have been and as it had ended up. Instead of white dress and a neat room with patients, she was treating a clumsy oaf in a half-built stable.
She glanced up at him. "Can you move it?"
He wiggled his finger a little bit and frowned.
"You're fine," she said, patting his hand gently.
He sighed and withdrew his hand. Taking advantage of the water pump, he splashed a bit more water into his hands and wiped his face with the lukewarm water.
"I am… not meant for this type of work I think."
At her silence, he turned towards her. She watched him curiously, eyes moving over his throat as he swallowed nervously, down his chest as his now semi-transparent shirt stuck to him with water and sweat.
"Why are you so tall?" she asked. Suddenly, she was right next to him, taking ahold of his sodden shirt and pulling him down to her in a kiss.
It took only a second to get over his shock before he could respond. He couldn't resist her soft lips against his own, the way his nose pressed against the smooth curve of her cheek, how her hand massaged the tense muscles of his shoulder and neck. She smelled wonderful: the subtle scent of her perfume, of her skin, sweet and light and feminine. His mouth opened, he needed to taste her.
She hummed her approval as he ran his tongue along her lips, tasting the bitterness of coffee and the sweetness of her. A jolt coursed from his chest down to his groin as she pulled him down further, her hand running over his chest, along his ribcage - no longer physician's hands, but a woman's - needy and searching. Her fingers counted the vertebrae in his back, and he could hear her voice in his head, reciting the names. The thought of her beautiful mouth working so easily around the complicated words drove him mad, and any pain he'd felt disappeared in an instant. He picked her up, sat her on a half-wall nearby, so she was now above him.
She laughed into his mouth, and he pulled away for a brief second to trace his hands over the delicate line of her jaw, to look in wonder into her eyes. Her skin was flushed, her lips glistening, and her eyes were dancing at him, but otherwise, yes, this was her. He slid his hand through her neatly bound hair, pulled on something long and thin, and her red tresses fell around her face. She smiled, lowered her mouth to his, curtaining their faces with the sweep of her hair. He let her take control, holding her carefully on the wall, drawing lazy circles along her scalp and over her hip.
The feel of her lips against his own was better than any of the fantasies he'd had about it in these past few weeks. Not shy, not Dana. She gasped with pleasure when he moved his hand in a particular way, nipped at his lips playfully, boldly explored his mouth with her tongue, touched him everywhere she could reach. When she slid one hand down to his beltline, he tore himself away from her, keeping some distance between them with his hands on her waist.
They panted heavily and stared at each other, dazed. Her hands moved upwards to rest on his shoulders and an impish smile played on her lips.
"I think, um…" he trailed off, having no idea what he'd been going to say.
"You do?" She raised an eyebrow. A thrill raced down his spine, his cock twitched, and he shifted his hips away from her.
"Please do that more often," he said, his thumb running across the arched line of her brow.
She giggled, traced a finger along his clavicle. "I have a request, then."
"Anything." And he meant it. At the moment, close to her like this, her lips swollen from their kisses, her hair tousled from his own hands, he would do anything for her.
"You may not be much good at it, but I think perhaps you should find reasons to help Mr. Byers a bit more often. Would be good to learn..." she said, then her eyes fell away from him, her smile turning shy. "Just let me know so I can keep you company."
He grinned, finally understanding what had seemed so strange about her earlier. "Liked what you saw, Miss Shaeffer?"
She licked her lips, then her eyes turned serious. "My… last name is Scully, not Shaeffer." She sighed as she told him, relief in her eyes. "I don't like lying to you, Mulder, but you cannot tell anyone else."
"Dana Scully," he whispered, as he threaded his fingers through the fine hair at her temple. She hummed in pleasure at his touch.
"You won't miss dinner?" Her blue eyes shined at him, uncertainty flashing over her face before she buried it under a careful mask of indifference.
"Not for the world," he said, feeling a slight twinge of guilt at so easily dismissing his plans with John. Sensing the vulnerability in her question, that she would think that he did not want to be near her every second of the day, squeezed at his heart. He didn't much care if John did not understand.
"Good." She smiled widely. "Now kiss me again."
"Yes, ma'am."