Title: I floss
Author: f.f.lindy
Date: 3/03
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Once I've written disclaimer isn't explaining why useless?
Feedback: You know, a good reader would send feedback. (and if your mom is catholic this guilt will haunt you until you do, I know it does me) vmf2004115@yahoo.com
Archiving: If you'd like to I would be honored.
Authors notes: I know the title doesn't really connect with most of the story but in the words of Annie Dillard, "Several delusions weaken the writer's resolve to throw away work. If he has read his pages too often, those pages will have a necessary quality, the ring of the inevitable, like poetry known by heart; they will perfectly answer their own familiar rhythms. He may retain those pages if they possess some virtues, such as power in themselves, thought they lack the cardinal virtue." I guess that's how this one ended up here. It's been sitting on my computer since like November.
XXXXXXXX
I swish green-blue minty liquid around in my mouth for a minute, just like I do every night at the same time. At 9:40 every night I'm standing here in front of my mirror and swishing this crap around. It's supposed to strengthen the enamel and fight gum disease, not to mention make my breath smell better. I usually don't mention that, it makes me sad. I spit it all out, I'm getting really good at getting it all out of my mouth when I spit so I don't get sick. I always used to get sick to my stomach from the fluoride. I walk out of the bathroom and in to my bedroom. I slip off my slippers, leaving them by the bed where I'll find them tomorrow night when I go to put on my pajamas. The door is locked, the lights are off, and my teeth are ready for the night. I know that everything that needs to be done has been done. I've planned it all out and know exactly where my feet must be placed to get all my nightly obligations completed efficiently. God knows I've done them enough to. I crawl into bed and pull my comforter over me tucking it around me tightly. I like to pretend that I'm not all alone in this bed. I run my fingers through my hair a few times before drifting off to sleep.
When I wake in the morning to the familiar ring of my alarm clock it reads 6 am. I don't even need to look at the clock, I just know. I pull off the blankets and slide my feet out of bed. The coffee maker is going to turn on in just a few minutes and brew my coffee for me, so I grab my bathrobe off the hanger in my closet and move back to the bathroom. I shower in exactly 15 minutes, never more, never less, and walk out a little more awake than I had been when I got in. I brush my teeth. I floss. I step purposefully back into the bedroom and pull out the suit that I mentally chose for myself while in the shower. I put it on and squeeze myself into the size A nylons I've had for a week. They'll have a run in them as soon as we get a new case but I pride myself in how long they've lasted me. I know exactly what shoes I'll wear with my suit. I wear the ones with big heels today. I want to feel tall. I want to look at Mulder and see his chin instead of his shoulder. To me the tall heels are a change in scenery. I once decided that if I ever get up the nerve to tell him I love him, I should be wearing those heels, so I would be easier to kiss. I was young when I decided that. I listen to the clomp of my shoes on the tile in my bathroom when I go to do my hair and make-up. I've worn the same color lipstick for over a year, I wonder if he's noticed. I make a mental note to buy a new shade next time I'm out shopping. I blow-dry my hair so it sits on my head just like I want it to.
I walk into the kitchen and get out my insolated coffee mug. I pour a cup of the fresh brewed coffee and take a bagel out of the bag in the refrigerator. I use a butter knife to take apart the tiny bits if bagel that hold it together, even though the bag says pre-sliced. I put it in the toaster and take out the light cream cheese. I hate light cream cheese but I never eat anything else. I put a spoonful of sugar and a little bit of milk in my big coffee mug and screw the lid on it.
The clock on the microwave reads 7:10 and I get ready to get in my car. I have ten minutes before I have to leave if I want to walk in the door of my office at 8. Sometimes Mulder is already there, sometimes he's much later, but I'm always there exactly at 8. I like it best when he gets there the same time I do. We get to share the elevator down to the basement on those days. I love sharing an elevator with him.
With that in mind I put the cream cheese on my bagel and eat it, then I'm out the door. My car starts with no problems. Function over form. The soft jazz music plays in my speakers that I always keep on in my car. I drive to work. I walk in the door and down to the office. No one even says hello. They don't talk to me; I don't talk to them. Then I get to elevator and push the button. As I wait Mulder walks up behind me. "Good morning," he says. I repeat it to him politely.
As we ride the elevator all the way up to the eighth floor for some other agent I concentrate on what I need to do today but as soon as the other agent leaves it's over. I look at Mulder and imagine myself ripping the tie off him and kissing him passionately. I don't do well alone in an elevator with him. He glances at me and I blush. When we finally reach the basement he holds the door for me as I get out. "Welcome to my underground layer," he kids in a poor attempt to mimic Dr. Evil. I smile and get off the elevator.
"You're on time today," I tell him.
"So are you," he responds. "Scully," directs his next statement towards me, even though I'm the only one in the room, that means it's important to him, I know him too well.
"When was the last time you were late to work and it wasn't my fault?"
"I don't know," I lie. I remember when it was, and why I was late. "Why?"
"I don't know. I was just curious." He lies. I know that he's lying. I know him too well.
"What do we have to do today?" I ask, even though I already know. He likes to feel like I need him, just as I like to feel like he needs me. He begins to ramble off what we need to do. I just watch. He thinks I'm listening, and part if me is, the other part though is staring enviously at the space between his lips and imaging the air the passes through them. I bet the air inside his mouth tastes better than anything I've ever eaten. Oh god I'd love to taste it. I imagine kissing him for the second time this morning and catch myself before I allow a tiny sigh to escape my lips. I pull myself back to the real world and listen to what Mulder has to say, even though I could recite it myself. I like the way his voice sounds. I like it best when he whispers. It sounds more romantic that way. He's leaning on the desk. He looks up at me and I nod in agreement as if to tell him that I know what he just said. We get to work.
Today is just another boring day, just like yesterday, just like everyday. I do my silly little tasks, nothing that is going to help people. I remember when I though I was going to spend every moment at the FBI really helping people. What a mistake. I don't help people that often, not even myself. Every new years eve I promise myself that this year I'm going to make my life better and I am going to help myself. I've yet to do that. I learned what it would take and I'm not brave enough. So, I do my paper work efficiently and well and I send it where it needs to go.
At noon Mulder leaves to pick up sandwiches for us at the deli down the street. We take turns going. We used to go out together but then Angie, from accounting, came down one day to tell me that she heard from Jill whose good friend Rebecca heard from Jessica that Mulder and I had been spending a lot of non-professional time together and we were probably together and she just wanted to hear it from me. I told her that we weren't together and stopped going out to lunch with Mulder. Now we eat take out in our office. I enjoyed going to lunch with him, sometimes I felt like we were more than just co-workers. I liked to pretend that we were lovers who went out to lunch together during the stress of daily life. I felt loved. Now we eat alone in our office. Now I feel like I have him all to myself. No other woman gets to watch him. No one else gets to see us interact. If I were to kiss him no one would know it but us until we felt ready to tell. I miss the feeling of others thinking we were a couple, but I love knowing that he is all mine. From 8 to 5, every day, Fox Mulder is mine.
He returns with two deli sandwiches, one vegetarian, one salami and Swiss cheese. He knows what I like best, and I know what he likes best. I know the way he likes his coffee. I know the drinks he likes. I know my Mulder. I even know what he will say when he sets the sandwich down on my desk. "Here's your no meat, good for you, wouldn't put it in my mouth if I had to, veggie on white."
"Thank you Mulder," I smile sweetly.
He sits down at his desk and I sit at it too, beginning to unwrap our sandwiches. We discuss the latest pile of paper work over lunch, even though we have agreed more than once that we shouldn't talk about work. We are both a little to afraid to take that step into a personal conversation. It's easier to stick to the familiar.
Today though, I try, because I'm wearing my tall heels, and I like to try something new when I wear my tall shoes. I like to do something that scares me. "What are you doing this weekend?" I ask.
"I don't have any plans. Unless we get a case tomorrow I guess I'm spending another weekend watching M*A*S*H* reruns on FX."
"Is that really what you do?"
"Why do you think I try so hard to find us cases?"
"I always just thought that was your way of going on paid vacations," I kidded. "Do you really like to be busy all weekend?"
"When I'm on a case I get to spend the weekend with someone I care about."
I stopped breathing. Suddenly oxygen wasn't important but Mulder was. I wasn't standing up. How could he kiss me if I wasn't standing up? I was even wearing my tall shoes. I could even see his chin if we were standing. Though I felt myself get lightheaded from not breathing I stood up. I hoped that what he'd just said meant that he wanted me, but I was afraid that I was reading too far into it. I walked closer to him casually, still testing the water. "Oh yeah, and who is that?"
"Well, she's about 5'2', petite, a redhead, and she knows me so well I can't get anything past her."
"It sounds like you like her."
"Like her?" he said quietly as he stood to stand close to me, I looked up a tiny bit to see his mouth form the words as he spoke, "I think I love her."
I closed my eyes and took a small breath, trying to sort out the puzzle that my life had just turned into. 10 minutes ago I knew exactly what would happen next, I knew where my life was going, I knew what was going on, and now I know nothing. Now all I can figure out is that I can feel Mulder's breath on my forehead and by the way he's breathing I think he's as nervous as I am. Before I can make all the pieces fit together like they should I feel myself being pulled a little towards Mulder, my eyes are still closed. He wraps his hands around my face and slowly his breath come closer and closer to mine until our lips touch. Suddenly that fact that I chose to wear my highest heels makes all the difference, and my dentist seems like a god for recommending that fluoride rinse. The shade of my lipstick is less important than I thought a few hours ago. I am glad that we eat lunch alone in our office. As Mulder's tongue gently parts my lips and explores my mouth I realize why I work so hard; I realize why I've wanted it so desperately for so long. I let my arms wrap around him, enjoying the feeling of his hands on my face. I wish I hadn't eaten my sandwich because it was filled with onions. He doesn't seem to mind, besides, his had onions on it too. The kiss lasts longer than I'd expected. I still feel dizzy, and I don't mind.
I swish the minty green liquid around in my mouth for a minute, just like I do every night at the same time. They say this stuff makes your breath taste better, well, smell better, but I don't care so much about that. A pair of warm hands are set on my shoulders and when I look in the mirror I see Mulder smiling at me. I wave at his reflection. He moves his hands, threatening to tickle me. I know him too well. I shoot him a look at says "Don't you dare." He burrows his head into my shoulder and sets soft kisses on my skin. I try to contain my laughter. It tickles. Finally, I spit it out into the sink and turn to him. He takes my hands wordlessly and leads me to the bedroom. As I fall asleep I feel his bare chest beneath my head. I hear his heart beating. He runs his fingers through my hair a few times and I fall asleep.
Author: f.f.lindy
Date: 3/03
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Once I've written disclaimer isn't explaining why useless?
Feedback: You know, a good reader would send feedback. (and if your mom is catholic this guilt will haunt you until you do, I know it does me) vmf2004115@yahoo.com
Archiving: If you'd like to I would be honored.
Authors notes: I know the title doesn't really connect with most of the story but in the words of Annie Dillard, "Several delusions weaken the writer's resolve to throw away work. If he has read his pages too often, those pages will have a necessary quality, the ring of the inevitable, like poetry known by heart; they will perfectly answer their own familiar rhythms. He may retain those pages if they possess some virtues, such as power in themselves, thought they lack the cardinal virtue." I guess that's how this one ended up here. It's been sitting on my computer since like November.
XXXXXXXX
I swish green-blue minty liquid around in my mouth for a minute, just like I do every night at the same time. At 9:40 every night I'm standing here in front of my mirror and swishing this crap around. It's supposed to strengthen the enamel and fight gum disease, not to mention make my breath smell better. I usually don't mention that, it makes me sad. I spit it all out, I'm getting really good at getting it all out of my mouth when I spit so I don't get sick. I always used to get sick to my stomach from the fluoride. I walk out of the bathroom and in to my bedroom. I slip off my slippers, leaving them by the bed where I'll find them tomorrow night when I go to put on my pajamas. The door is locked, the lights are off, and my teeth are ready for the night. I know that everything that needs to be done has been done. I've planned it all out and know exactly where my feet must be placed to get all my nightly obligations completed efficiently. God knows I've done them enough to. I crawl into bed and pull my comforter over me tucking it around me tightly. I like to pretend that I'm not all alone in this bed. I run my fingers through my hair a few times before drifting off to sleep.
When I wake in the morning to the familiar ring of my alarm clock it reads 6 am. I don't even need to look at the clock, I just know. I pull off the blankets and slide my feet out of bed. The coffee maker is going to turn on in just a few minutes and brew my coffee for me, so I grab my bathrobe off the hanger in my closet and move back to the bathroom. I shower in exactly 15 minutes, never more, never less, and walk out a little more awake than I had been when I got in. I brush my teeth. I floss. I step purposefully back into the bedroom and pull out the suit that I mentally chose for myself while in the shower. I put it on and squeeze myself into the size A nylons I've had for a week. They'll have a run in them as soon as we get a new case but I pride myself in how long they've lasted me. I know exactly what shoes I'll wear with my suit. I wear the ones with big heels today. I want to feel tall. I want to look at Mulder and see his chin instead of his shoulder. To me the tall heels are a change in scenery. I once decided that if I ever get up the nerve to tell him I love him, I should be wearing those heels, so I would be easier to kiss. I was young when I decided that. I listen to the clomp of my shoes on the tile in my bathroom when I go to do my hair and make-up. I've worn the same color lipstick for over a year, I wonder if he's noticed. I make a mental note to buy a new shade next time I'm out shopping. I blow-dry my hair so it sits on my head just like I want it to.
I walk into the kitchen and get out my insolated coffee mug. I pour a cup of the fresh brewed coffee and take a bagel out of the bag in the refrigerator. I use a butter knife to take apart the tiny bits if bagel that hold it together, even though the bag says pre-sliced. I put it in the toaster and take out the light cream cheese. I hate light cream cheese but I never eat anything else. I put a spoonful of sugar and a little bit of milk in my big coffee mug and screw the lid on it.
The clock on the microwave reads 7:10 and I get ready to get in my car. I have ten minutes before I have to leave if I want to walk in the door of my office at 8. Sometimes Mulder is already there, sometimes he's much later, but I'm always there exactly at 8. I like it best when he gets there the same time I do. We get to share the elevator down to the basement on those days. I love sharing an elevator with him.
With that in mind I put the cream cheese on my bagel and eat it, then I'm out the door. My car starts with no problems. Function over form. The soft jazz music plays in my speakers that I always keep on in my car. I drive to work. I walk in the door and down to the office. No one even says hello. They don't talk to me; I don't talk to them. Then I get to elevator and push the button. As I wait Mulder walks up behind me. "Good morning," he says. I repeat it to him politely.
As we ride the elevator all the way up to the eighth floor for some other agent I concentrate on what I need to do today but as soon as the other agent leaves it's over. I look at Mulder and imagine myself ripping the tie off him and kissing him passionately. I don't do well alone in an elevator with him. He glances at me and I blush. When we finally reach the basement he holds the door for me as I get out. "Welcome to my underground layer," he kids in a poor attempt to mimic Dr. Evil. I smile and get off the elevator.
"You're on time today," I tell him.
"So are you," he responds. "Scully," directs his next statement towards me, even though I'm the only one in the room, that means it's important to him, I know him too well.
"When was the last time you were late to work and it wasn't my fault?"
"I don't know," I lie. I remember when it was, and why I was late. "Why?"
"I don't know. I was just curious." He lies. I know that he's lying. I know him too well.
"What do we have to do today?" I ask, even though I already know. He likes to feel like I need him, just as I like to feel like he needs me. He begins to ramble off what we need to do. I just watch. He thinks I'm listening, and part if me is, the other part though is staring enviously at the space between his lips and imaging the air the passes through them. I bet the air inside his mouth tastes better than anything I've ever eaten. Oh god I'd love to taste it. I imagine kissing him for the second time this morning and catch myself before I allow a tiny sigh to escape my lips. I pull myself back to the real world and listen to what Mulder has to say, even though I could recite it myself. I like the way his voice sounds. I like it best when he whispers. It sounds more romantic that way. He's leaning on the desk. He looks up at me and I nod in agreement as if to tell him that I know what he just said. We get to work.
Today is just another boring day, just like yesterday, just like everyday. I do my silly little tasks, nothing that is going to help people. I remember when I though I was going to spend every moment at the FBI really helping people. What a mistake. I don't help people that often, not even myself. Every new years eve I promise myself that this year I'm going to make my life better and I am going to help myself. I've yet to do that. I learned what it would take and I'm not brave enough. So, I do my paper work efficiently and well and I send it where it needs to go.
At noon Mulder leaves to pick up sandwiches for us at the deli down the street. We take turns going. We used to go out together but then Angie, from accounting, came down one day to tell me that she heard from Jill whose good friend Rebecca heard from Jessica that Mulder and I had been spending a lot of non-professional time together and we were probably together and she just wanted to hear it from me. I told her that we weren't together and stopped going out to lunch with Mulder. Now we eat take out in our office. I enjoyed going to lunch with him, sometimes I felt like we were more than just co-workers. I liked to pretend that we were lovers who went out to lunch together during the stress of daily life. I felt loved. Now we eat alone in our office. Now I feel like I have him all to myself. No other woman gets to watch him. No one else gets to see us interact. If I were to kiss him no one would know it but us until we felt ready to tell. I miss the feeling of others thinking we were a couple, but I love knowing that he is all mine. From 8 to 5, every day, Fox Mulder is mine.
He returns with two deli sandwiches, one vegetarian, one salami and Swiss cheese. He knows what I like best, and I know what he likes best. I know the way he likes his coffee. I know the drinks he likes. I know my Mulder. I even know what he will say when he sets the sandwich down on my desk. "Here's your no meat, good for you, wouldn't put it in my mouth if I had to, veggie on white."
"Thank you Mulder," I smile sweetly.
He sits down at his desk and I sit at it too, beginning to unwrap our sandwiches. We discuss the latest pile of paper work over lunch, even though we have agreed more than once that we shouldn't talk about work. We are both a little to afraid to take that step into a personal conversation. It's easier to stick to the familiar.
Today though, I try, because I'm wearing my tall heels, and I like to try something new when I wear my tall shoes. I like to do something that scares me. "What are you doing this weekend?" I ask.
"I don't have any plans. Unless we get a case tomorrow I guess I'm spending another weekend watching M*A*S*H* reruns on FX."
"Is that really what you do?"
"Why do you think I try so hard to find us cases?"
"I always just thought that was your way of going on paid vacations," I kidded. "Do you really like to be busy all weekend?"
"When I'm on a case I get to spend the weekend with someone I care about."
I stopped breathing. Suddenly oxygen wasn't important but Mulder was. I wasn't standing up. How could he kiss me if I wasn't standing up? I was even wearing my tall shoes. I could even see his chin if we were standing. Though I felt myself get lightheaded from not breathing I stood up. I hoped that what he'd just said meant that he wanted me, but I was afraid that I was reading too far into it. I walked closer to him casually, still testing the water. "Oh yeah, and who is that?"
"Well, she's about 5'2', petite, a redhead, and she knows me so well I can't get anything past her."
"It sounds like you like her."
"Like her?" he said quietly as he stood to stand close to me, I looked up a tiny bit to see his mouth form the words as he spoke, "I think I love her."
I closed my eyes and took a small breath, trying to sort out the puzzle that my life had just turned into. 10 minutes ago I knew exactly what would happen next, I knew where my life was going, I knew what was going on, and now I know nothing. Now all I can figure out is that I can feel Mulder's breath on my forehead and by the way he's breathing I think he's as nervous as I am. Before I can make all the pieces fit together like they should I feel myself being pulled a little towards Mulder, my eyes are still closed. He wraps his hands around my face and slowly his breath come closer and closer to mine until our lips touch. Suddenly that fact that I chose to wear my highest heels makes all the difference, and my dentist seems like a god for recommending that fluoride rinse. The shade of my lipstick is less important than I thought a few hours ago. I am glad that we eat lunch alone in our office. As Mulder's tongue gently parts my lips and explores my mouth I realize why I work so hard; I realize why I've wanted it so desperately for so long. I let my arms wrap around him, enjoying the feeling of his hands on my face. I wish I hadn't eaten my sandwich because it was filled with onions. He doesn't seem to mind, besides, his had onions on it too. The kiss lasts longer than I'd expected. I still feel dizzy, and I don't mind.
I swish the minty green liquid around in my mouth for a minute, just like I do every night at the same time. They say this stuff makes your breath taste better, well, smell better, but I don't care so much about that. A pair of warm hands are set on my shoulders and when I look in the mirror I see Mulder smiling at me. I wave at his reflection. He moves his hands, threatening to tickle me. I know him too well. I shoot him a look at says "Don't you dare." He burrows his head into my shoulder and sets soft kisses on my skin. I try to contain my laughter. It tickles. Finally, I spit it out into the sink and turn to him. He takes my hands wordlessly and leads me to the bedroom. As I fall asleep I feel his bare chest beneath my head. I hear his heart beating. He runs his fingers through my hair a few times and I fall asleep.