"Did everyone remember to bring in a porcelain piece?" asks Professor Glitter.

Almost all of the students raise a variety of white figures in their hands, ranging from dishes to statues. "Oh, crap!" Mulder shrugs, watching as Scully holds up her shiny vase.

"Oh, don't worry, Mulder," she grins, "I brought an extra." She studies his face merrily as he accepts an identical, dainty vase from her other hand. "What? Too feminine?" she teases.

"Well, it's not exactly what I would have brought." He looks it up and down discontentedly.

"Maybe next time, you'll remember to bring your own." She gives him a little smirk, but all he can offer in return is a weak, lop-sided smile.

"Thanks."

"No problem. So, what do you plan on painting on it? Flowers? Maybe, Forget-me-nots? Those are pretty and easy to paint." Mulder raises a displeased eyebrow to her playful taunting. "Well?"

"What the hell would you know about painting Forget-me-nots?"

"My grandmother used to china paint. It relaxed her. They were her favorite flowers to paint because they are 'the easiest, fastest, and most leisurely,' as she would say."

"Oh. Well, I think I'm up for the challenge of something a little more masculine."

"Suit yourself," she says, getting up to gather their materials. "Just a suggestion."

While Scully tranquilly brushed a soft mix of blue and purple clouds and wipes back little white pedals, Mulder fusses with his spaceship. "Who would have thought a spaceship would be hard?"

"Mulder, for one thing, I think it's difficult mostly because you insisted on painting it on the neck of the vase, which is too thin for something like that"

"But it has to be at the top," he interrupts. "How else would I fit in the cows it's gonna be abducting?" She rolls her eyes before finishing her thought.

"It might also be easier if you weren't so adamant on making the spaceship look authentic."

"If I don't make it look authentic, it will look stupid."

"And it doesn't now?" she responds dryly. "Besides, Mulder, keep in mind that these will be fired a few times before we are finished. You'll have plenty of chances to make it look authentic. Just remember to start with the lighter colors and shades, and with each firing, you can used darker ones."

"I thought you didn't like art. Didn't you tell me when we started this that you sucked at it?"

"Just because I know what I'm talking about doesn't make it any easier for me to actually paint. I told you already that that is why I'm doing these." She gestures to her flowers, which are coming along nicely. "I'm almost done with my first coat."

"Well, yay for you," he whines. "I don't see why we have to do china-painting anyway. This was more fun when"

"You were good at it?" she suggests, hoping to prove a point she had made long ago.

Mulder huffs and goes back to his project. After he decides to leave his spaceship as is, he starts on the cows. They are really hard. "Hell with authentic," he mutters. I should have painted those damn flowers.

The end of the period comes quickly, and Scully proudly places her vase in the kiln. "Mulder, are you done?" He gives her a one second gesture with his index finger as he swipes the brush over the porcelain a few last times. Then he brings it to her. "What happened to your spaceship? And your cows?"

"Apparently I'm much better at Forget-me-nots," he mumbles, barely audibly.

"Awww. This class is really testing your security as a man, isn't it?" she almost laughs.

Then, the teacher begins, "Okay, I've decided to let you pick our next project. Everyone write what they would like to do on one of these little pieces of scratch paper and put it in this coffee can before you leave. Majority rules." Mulder is the first student to get his hands on the scratch paper. He grabs two pieces.

"You want mine?" Scully offers, handing it back to him. "I don't really care what we do next."

"Sure. Thanks." He starts scribbling something on them just out of her sight and then places them into the tin. She looks at him questioningly. "Since I enjoyed working with the clay, I thought it'd be fun to try pottery. I've always wanted to use that spinning thing."

"The wheel?" Scully clarifies. She considers the thought and chuckles.

"What?"

"Nothing." He gives her a look that tells her that answer won't work this time. "It's just that it's a little embarrassing." Still, no mercy. "Okay," she surrenders. "Whenever I think about using the pottery wheel, I always think about that scene from Ghost. Y'know, that…suggestive scene?"

This is amusing. "Does that sort of thing turn you on, Scully?" Mulder teases, stepping closer to her.

Her heart rate begins to climb, and somewhere in the back of her mind she can picture the scene, but rather than Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore, she and Mulder are molding the clay. Molding… Squeezing… Shaping… Working the wet clay in their entangled fingers… Slip and slurry dry and crust up on their arms and legs. She watches the fantasy…watches as he kisses the back of her neck, and rub his hands up and down her inner thighs, covering them with dirty water. She can almost feel it. A soft moan escapes her lips, and she squeezes the clay in her hands so tightly that it collapses into a small pile of mud.

"Scully?"

"Huh?" Her face is flushed, and a begging sensation is overwhelming her in a place that aches for attention and contact. She notices Mulder looking down at her with a mixture of concern and arousal in his eyes. "What just happened?" she asks.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he answers. "Your breathing was irregular, and I think you moaned something, but I couldn't understand what you said."

"What were we talking about?" She seems nervous and embarrassed to him. Her cheeks are so red, and her eyes appear to be darker. Her freckles are slightly more noticeable in this light.

"I was just asking if…" He doesn't want to embarrass her further. "you wanted to get dinner."

God, he's beautiful, she sadly ruminates. She wants to go with him, but it's too painful. When she is with him, all she can think about is how much she wants more. At least when she's home…alone…there's plenty to take her mind off of him. Or she can sleep…and dream…allow the images to present themselves, so perfect and so real. She loves dreaming, and she wishes she could sleep forever. At least in her dreams, they can be together. But here in the conscious world, they cannot. It breaks her heart. Go with him, Dana. Maybe tonight will be the night. Go with him. "Sorry, Mulder, but I have stuff I gotta do at home tonight."

He looks hurt, but recovers his composure quickly to hide his true feelings. "Oh. Okay." He sucks his cheeks in and bites the inside of one of them. "Well, maybe another time," he nods, trying to be strong.

With that, he leaves the classroom. Scully remains, staring at the empty spot in front of her. You are such a fool, she scolds herself. Realizing that everyone has left and she is alone, she lets herself cry. The tears are still quietly gliding down her face even as she drives home. When she gets there, she changes into a pair of pajamas and curls up on the couch with her afghan. She turns on the TV but keeps the sound down. The light murmur and flashing images make her feel less lonely, even when she closes her eyes. Rolling onto her other side, she snuggles into the back of the couch and pulls the blanket up to her neck.

She feels him. She feels his weight around her. She feels him but doesn't see him. A pottery wheel sits in front of her, and heap of plastic clay rests in the center of the circle. Pressing her foot slowly on the pedal, the wheel begins to turn. She kneads the clay in her hands, misting it with a handful of slip. She quickens the pace of her foot and starts to shape the clay with her fingertips. He is holding her. She still can't see him, but she knows he's there. He has his hands on her body, burning her flesh wherever he touches. Soon, her whole body is ablaze with passion, craving him thoroughly. The clay in her hands no longer resembles anything close to the pot she had begun to create. She drops it back on the wheel and wipes her hands on her clothes. She feels him kissing her neck, and his invisible hands continue to explore her body. She turns to kiss him back, and suddenly, she can see him. He is even more gorgeous than he has ever been, and he pulls her onto her couch with him. It is everything she has ever wanted and more.

The phone rings, and Dana just about pulls the cord from the wall. "No!" she cries out, praying for her dream to return. Another piercing ring murders any chance of her prayer being answered. "Scully," she drones into the receiver, her disappointment making her voice sound almost threatening.

"It's me," Mulder replies. "Are you okay?"

Scully considers this and is tempted to tell him the truth. No. I'm miserable. "I'm fine."

"I was thinking about how you said you had stuff to do tonight, and I was wondering if you needed any help…or company. It wouldn't be any trouble because I'm pretty bored, and I could be there in five minutes." Dana thinks about her dream. There are two possible answers here: she could say yes, or she could say no. If she says no, nothing changes. If she says yes, either nothing changes or everything could change. If he does come over, am I going to be able to stand not telling him how I feel? Not touch him? Not feel him the way I did in my dream? Or what if I do tell him…do touch him…do feel him? I guess the question is: what do I really want? "You still with me, Scully?"

"I'm here, Mulder. Iuhfinished what I was doing, but if you're bored, I certainly wouldn't mind the company. Have you eaten?"

"Actually, I haven't. You?"

"No. I can order a pizza."

"Sounds good. I'll see you when I get there."

She hangs up the phone and goes into the bathroom to look in the mirror. What am I doing? Noticing that her pajamas are damp with sweat, she looks for a fresh pair. Wait a second. Pajamas? Running to her closet, she grabs a clean pair of jeans and a shirt instead. Woops! That V-neck won't do at all. She tries on a turtle neck and throws a blazer over it. Damn, Dana! This isn't work. You're at home. She decides on clean pajama pants and a T-shirt. Comfortable, casual, and not too revealing. Perfect.

There is a familiar knock on the door just as she finishes placing her order. She hangs up the phone and answers the door. "Hey," she smiles.

"Hey." He is wearing jeans, a dark blue T-shirt, and his black leather jacket. "Mind if I come in?"

"Oh, sorry," she jumps, stepping out of the way. While he isn't looking, she slides her hand down her face, stretching her skin as she does so. Great start, Dana. That's good. Just keep staring at him.

"I brought something," he announces, holding up a video.

She almost has a heart attack when she sees what movie it is. "Oh… Ghost."

"Yep. I figured since you like it so much…" He is teasing her. Then, he slips it into the VCR.

"Yay." This will be easier than I thought. I'll be too busy hiding my face to make a move on him.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks. "You've been acting kinda…different ever since…"

The walk in the park? "I'm fine. Really. Just tired," she insists. They both drop the subject. The movie starts, the pizza comes, Mulder pays, and the movie finishes. All in all, the night goes seamlessly. Scully even lived through the pottery scene. At one in the morning, Mulder has his second yawn attack.

"Well, I guess I'll get going," he says between two more vicious yawns.

"Will you be able to drive? Maybe you should just" Her breath catches in her throat. Oh no! What are you thinking? Abort! Abort!

"Stay the night?" he finishes nonchalantly.

Shit!

To be fair, it wouldn't be the first time. Mulder has spent many nights on her couch in the past, as she has done so on his. But things are different now…not by much, but different nonetheless. Scully has always had feelings for Mulder. She has always respected him, but it is more than that, too. It was his determination and uncompromising passion that attracted her to him at firstand still does. But she soon found that she harbored other feelings for him as well. Feelings that, up until somewhat recently, she didn't think he returned. But now… It's okay. I can do this. "Yeah," she finally answers.

"Sounds good," he replies, stretching his arms above his head. "Thanks."

"No problem. Let me just get you a clean blanket and a pillow."

"I don't mind using this blanket. No need for you to dirty one on my behalf." Before she can argue, he plops on the couch with her afghan. "Besides, this one smells like you."

"Good night, Mulder," she smiles.

"Night," he whispers. She wants so badly to join him there and bring her dream to life, but she doesn't. She has a feeling that if she did, he wouldn't push her away. No. He would welcome her. She goes to bed knowing in her heart that he would have her the second she gives herself to him. But she wouldn't tonight. Not yet. As much as she longs to feel him everywhere, she will wait.