The elaborate coalescence of lapis lazuli eyes and the refined opponent
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story, The x files and all pertaining characters are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 productions and Fox
Dedication: This story is dedicated to my good friend Natalie for harassing me to write something and helping me out with this one and to Kiki for always reading the crap that I write and for being supportive. You both are just so damn cool. =P
Feedback: YippySkippyDoo@hotmail.com or here
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His face hardened, concealing the emotions like those of a denied child. He had begun his argument dispassionately; she had ended all argument forcefully, leaving no room for further discussion. His Adam's apple slowly rose and sank back down in his thick, muscular neck. His under-chin area was covered in unshaven stubble, illuminating masculinity. Her blue eyes glistened under the poor dim hall lighting.
Those eyes alone told her story. As difficult as it is to get inside that pretty head of hers, it is her eyes that give it all away. They are just a scratch on the surface of the deep, complex being that is Dana Scully, but they never fail to convey the intensity that draws him to her, and keeps so many others at a safe distance. They stood in silence. The only sounds audible were their draws and expulsions of breath, and the creaking noises of an old apartment building.
She was testing him. A wry smile parted his lips.
He was challenging her. Her eyes burned harder into his.
She drew in a long breath, the muscles in her face moved slightly as they do to speak, but she restrained herself and played it off by licking her upper lip. He feigned a quick, dry laugh and turned his head downward, shaking it slightly. His hands were rested on his hips in a sarcastic, egotistical way.
Imbued with irritation, she cocked her head to the side. "Mulder..." She began, letting the two syllables roll off her tongue, elongating the 'er' to illustrate her enervation.
He picked his head back up and met her gaze, tilted his head back slightly, his hands still on his hips. He widened his eyes at her, signaling he was waiting for whatever it was that would swiftly flow from her. She was like the title fight, the calm yet unpredictable anticipation followed by a quick, sharp blow, knocking you to your knees. While you never see it coming, the warning is always there. It's her eyes that fill you with the uncertainty, capturing and drawing you in, peeling your guard down to reveal the vulnerable pulp that is at the core of all of us. Fox Mulder was that vulnerable pulp at the moment, and he stood before her, yearning and fearing the punch that would be thrown at his already bloody pulp. The first blow had caught him off guard, and no matter how much he prepared himself for her ossified jabs, it was never enough. His body tensed and froze as her lips parted and her eyes moved over his face, then down to meet the floor.
"Let me get my coat." She finally said, less than enthusiastically and turned around to her apartment door and opened it.
His muscles relaxed. Victory. It was as though he had just relieved himself after straining too hard after not eating enough raisin bran. He broke her. That disappointed and hurt child within was jumping and giggling uncontrollably, but the external Mulder stood refined and quiet, with just a hint of satisfaction in his smile.
She returned, coat in hand and locked the door. She walked past him without making eye contact and headed for the elevator. He closed his eyes and let this grin break on through, then followed behind her, leaving a precautionary distance.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story, The x files and all pertaining characters are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 productions and Fox
Dedication: This story is dedicated to my good friend Natalie for harassing me to write something and helping me out with this one and to Kiki for always reading the crap that I write and for being supportive. You both are just so damn cool. =P
Feedback: YippySkippyDoo@hotmail.com or here
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
His face hardened, concealing the emotions like those of a denied child. He had begun his argument dispassionately; she had ended all argument forcefully, leaving no room for further discussion. His Adam's apple slowly rose and sank back down in his thick, muscular neck. His under-chin area was covered in unshaven stubble, illuminating masculinity. Her blue eyes glistened under the poor dim hall lighting.
Those eyes alone told her story. As difficult as it is to get inside that pretty head of hers, it is her eyes that give it all away. They are just a scratch on the surface of the deep, complex being that is Dana Scully, but they never fail to convey the intensity that draws him to her, and keeps so many others at a safe distance. They stood in silence. The only sounds audible were their draws and expulsions of breath, and the creaking noises of an old apartment building.
She was testing him. A wry smile parted his lips.
He was challenging her. Her eyes burned harder into his.
She drew in a long breath, the muscles in her face moved slightly as they do to speak, but she restrained herself and played it off by licking her upper lip. He feigned a quick, dry laugh and turned his head downward, shaking it slightly. His hands were rested on his hips in a sarcastic, egotistical way.
Imbued with irritation, she cocked her head to the side. "Mulder..." She began, letting the two syllables roll off her tongue, elongating the 'er' to illustrate her enervation.
He picked his head back up and met her gaze, tilted his head back slightly, his hands still on his hips. He widened his eyes at her, signaling he was waiting for whatever it was that would swiftly flow from her. She was like the title fight, the calm yet unpredictable anticipation followed by a quick, sharp blow, knocking you to your knees. While you never see it coming, the warning is always there. It's her eyes that fill you with the uncertainty, capturing and drawing you in, peeling your guard down to reveal the vulnerable pulp that is at the core of all of us. Fox Mulder was that vulnerable pulp at the moment, and he stood before her, yearning and fearing the punch that would be thrown at his already bloody pulp. The first blow had caught him off guard, and no matter how much he prepared himself for her ossified jabs, it was never enough. His body tensed and froze as her lips parted and her eyes moved over his face, then down to meet the floor.
"Let me get my coat." She finally said, less than enthusiastically and turned around to her apartment door and opened it.
His muscles relaxed. Victory. It was as though he had just relieved himself after straining too hard after not eating enough raisin bran. He broke her. That disappointed and hurt child within was jumping and giggling uncontrollably, but the external Mulder stood refined and quiet, with just a hint of satisfaction in his smile.
She returned, coat in hand and locked the door. She walked past him without making eye contact and headed for the elevator. He closed his eyes and let this grin break on through, then followed behind her, leaving a precautionary distance.