Disclaimer: X-Files and its characters are owned by 20th Century Fox and Chris Carter. I just borrowed them for a few hours :)
Author's Note: I wrote this story and my other X-Files fanfic a number of years ago and thought it time to upload to this community.
The 30-Second Rule
Mulder tried to step into his office as quietly as possible, hoping beyond hope that Scully hadn't come in yet. He didn't quite feel like explaining his appearance to her--disheveled hair, wrinkled suit, bloodshot eyes, unshaven face. It wasn't that he was angry at her, or anything like that at all. He just knew that she'd give him one look--that Mulder-what-in-the-hell-happened-to-you look--and jump to his side to see if he was all right. Then she'd want an explanation. A detailed explanation. That was what he wanted to avoid.
She'd accept late night meetings with sources, spur-of-the-moment leads. . .hell, she'd probably even accept an accidental re-encounter with the Flukeman. He thought of making something up, but lying to her was something he couldn't do. She'd know he was lying. He even considered just admitting the awful truth--he had a really bad, ego-crushing, disheartening, attitude-mangling date with a woman who trampled his masculinity to a pulp. That certainly wasn't an option. So, the only way of hiding the embarrassing truth of his mangy appearance from her was to get past her into the bathroom where he could clean himself up a little and maintain the cool, suave, women-are-hot-for-me exterior masking the fragile heart that embodied Fox Mulder.
The door closed behind him with a soft thud, and he reached to hang up his coat. He turned towards the bathroom, and then she saw him.
Her blue eyes widened and her mouth curved open with that look. "Mulder, are you all right?" She jumped from her desk and sprinted to his side, her eyes boring into his face, searching for an explanation.
"I'm fine, Scully, fine." He waved his hands defensively in front of her and dragged himself to his desk. "Just a long night."
Scully followed him and sat on the corner of his desk. "What happened?" She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him, waiting.
"I couldn't sleep." It was a lame excuse, and he knew it, and he knew she knew it, but for now he didn't care. If he could simply make it through the day without Scully making him tell her the embarrassing truth, he'd be happy. Well, not happy--he doubted he'd ever be happy again--but at least content. He yanked open the top drawer of his desk and shoved aside the piles of junk there until he came across a tie. "Damn it," he growled when he saw it was a Mickey Mouse tie, of all things. By now it seemed it would be a hell of a lot easier to just castrate himself. "Son of a bitch," he mumbled, throwing the tie around his neck. He looked up and saw Scully staring at him, her mouth twisted into an expression of either concern or amusement. It was difficult to tell which.
She sighed. "So I see you are fine." She lowered her hand to his desk and tapped her fingers.
She was definitely amused. "Damn women."
"Did I do something?"
He hadn't realized he'd said that out loud. "No," he breathed, considering just telling her the whole story. But he couldn't. Despite their close partnership and friendship, somehow, letting her know about last night could be a humiliation in itself. "It's nothing."
She rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Mulder." She dropped from his desk and went to her own, shuffling through some papers.
Good, he thought. She'd given up and would ignore him and allow him to wallow in self-pity like he'd wanted to. He finished knotting the tie around his neck then stared down at the pattern of Mickey Mouse cartoons splayed across his chest, mocking him. Scully'd bought him that tie as a joke saying before he opened the box that she'd got him something a little more professional and adult than the ones he usually wore. They'd both laughed about it then, but now he wondered if that's what she thought of him--less than an adult. Just like that bitch last night who told him he kissed with the expertise of a 13-year-old because he violated some rule she had about tongues. He'd already felt vulnerable, it being his first date in God knows how long, and that only shattered the last bit of confidence he'd had.
He glanced up and saw Scully chewing on a pencil, her eyes glued to the computer screen to the side of her desk. A twinge of guilt bit at his stomach for thinking Scully didn't respect him and for comparing her to that woman. He watched her drag the pencil from her mouth and then run her tongue along her upper lip--how many times does she do that in the course of a day, he wondered. The soft glow from the computer screen sparkled against her now wet lips, and for a moment, he wondered what it would be like to kiss her, what she would think of the way he kissed. Maybe he could ask her. . .
Her head snapped around to face him. "Something wrong, Mulder?" She pursed her lips together and let a long breath escape her nose. "You've been staring at me."
"Sorry," he managed, his throat constricted from being caught. He shifted in his chair and randomly grabbed a paper from his desk and feigned interest in it until he saw her turn away and go back to what she was doing. "Scully," he whispered, thinking she might not have even heard him.
"Yeah, Mulder?" She bit on the pencil again and twisted it between her lips, still blankly staring at the computer screen.
"Do you think I'm a good kisser?" His tone was so sincere he was afraid she would think him even more of a jackass than she already did for his behavior that morning.
She stifled a laugh. "I don't quite think I can answer that question."
"Theoretically, then." He had to know. Right now she was the only woman he wasn't related to that he could ask this question.
She swiveled her chair around and watched him from across the room. "How can I even answer that theoretically, Mulder?"
"I just thought--"
"Is this the reason for your mood this morning?"
He let his eyes wander around the room dimly wishing he'd never started this conversation. "This woman I went out with." He rolled his eyes. "She said I violated some kind of kissing rule."
Scully laughed and shook her head. "Men."
"What?"
She licked her upper lip again and continued. "You put on this macho exterior, but you're all so fragile."
Her continued amusement at him irritated him. "Yeah, well, before you completely destroy my fragility in the name of womankind, could you help me out here?"
"I'm sorry, Mulder, but what can I do?" Her voice was calm now--she seemed to have recognized his opened heart and stopped before pouring any more salt in.
He crumpled a piece of paper and tossed it across the office into a trashcan. "Forget it."
Scully tapped her fingers against her desk and crossed her legs. She sighed and followed Mulder's paper ball as it trailed through the air, missing its destination by a millimeter. "So what's this rule?"
He closed his eyes. "You shouldn't use your tongue for more than thirty seconds."
"And you violated this?" She tapped her pencil against her head as if in thought.
He nodded in response, then looked at her, catching her gaze with his own. He gave her his best wounded baby animal look, but this time in all seriousness, since that was exactly how he felt.
"Mulder," she said, standing. "There aren't any rules about kissing." She slowly made her way to his desk, a reassuring smile capturing her lips. "You don't need to believe that woman."
He smiled back at her, grateful she decided not to mock him. Since she was being so nice to him now, he thought he'd be bold. "Would you do me a favor?"
"What?" she asked, sitting on the corner of his desk, the glow of concern still apparent in her eyes.
"Would you kiss me?"
"Excuse me?"
He never thought he'd see her eyes widen as much as they had now. "I need to know, and right now you're the only woman I trust." What he said was partially true--he wanted the opinion of someone he could rely on to be honest; Scully seemed a likely candidate.
She opened her mouth, but seemed too exasperated by his request to speak. After a breath, she stated, "You're insane."
"Why? Are you afraid?"
"I'm not afraid--I'm just not catering to your wounded male ego." She moved across the room to her own desk, leaning against it, but didn't stop facing him.
He was an idiot, and he knew it. What the hell was going through his mind? He'd asked Scully to kiss him and not just to satisfy his ego. Talk about being unprofessional. He swept up a piece of paper from his desk, and not really caring it was blank, stared at it intently, hoping it might turn into a new world he could quietly slip away to.
"Oh, okay."
His chin shot up away from his chest, and he found Scully still staring at him. "What?" He wasn't quite sure he'd heard what he'd heard.
She did the lip thing again and answered, "I'll kiss you."
He locked his gaze with hers and didn't break it even as he got up from his desk and sauntered over towards her, stopping a foot away from her. "I'm not trying to use you or anything like that," he whispered.
"I know," she stated in a breath.
They stood there in silence for a few moments, Mulder not sure of exactly what to do. This would be the first time he would kiss a woman after already knowing every last detail of her personality, her quirks, her beliefs. He'd always thought those things would make physical involvement easier, but now he was at a loss. Maybe he did kiss with the expertise of a 13 year-old after all.
"This is weird, Mulder."
She averted her eyes from him and he thought he detected a faint blush rise in her cheeks. "Everything we do is weird." At least she was as nervous as he was. He let his finger trail down her cheek to her chin and gently nudged her face upwards. When he saw her eyes, blue and glowing in the basement's dim light, he felt his hands shake. He shouldn't be doing this; despite what he told her, he was taking advantage of her and their friendship. But at the same time, he couldn't turn away, either. Standing that close to her, touching her ever so lightly, ignited every lingering romantic thought he'd ever had of her but had pushed aside. He considered pulling away, feeling guilty for putting her in this position, but then she did it again; her tongue darted from her mouth and ran across her upper lip.
He leaned towards her slowly, but paused an inch or so from her face. He looked at her mouth only to find it twisting itself all around. "You okay?"
She released an obviously stifled giggle. "I'm sorry," she said, smiling. "I just feel like I'm in the middle of a John Hughes movie."
"You know, you're not helping my fragility here," he said, flicking her nose with his finger. But even he couldn't help laughing a little at the utter ridiculousness of the situation. Here they were, adults in their thirties who couldn't even kiss each other without giggling. "Isn't this where you tell me where I should put my hands?" He darted his eyebrows up playfully.
She rolled her head back and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. "I thought you just couldn't kiss," she responded, capturing his gaze.
"Touché." He stared at her face and again slowly lowered his own towards her. This time, he noticed, she leaned into him, tilting her head up to meet him. He hesitated for a moment, thinking how incredibly strange this whole moment was, of how they ended up in this position. But in his hesitation, he'd unconsciously fallen forward and accidentally initiated their first kiss.
Scully had been right--this certainly was weird since a man of his experience should be doing a hell of a lot more than staying still at a moment like this. But he could barely move. He simply stood there, his mouth lightly pressing against hers, his arms hanging at his sides. She felt so soft and so warm that he was overcome by her--a sensation he didn't remember ever having experienced.
He felt her shiver slightly, so he tentatively stretched his hand out and caressed her arm with his fingertips. Slowly, her hand came up against his chest. For a second he thought she might be pushing him away, but the gentleness with which she touched him told him otherwise. He felt his sense of movement returning followed by his sense of reality ebbing away. Despite its childlike innocence, this was more than a friendly kiss; this was heaven.
The insatiable desire to know what she tasted like washed over him. He ran his tongue along her lower lip so lightly it tickled. He sensed her mouth move against his and he deepened the kiss, raising his hands to hold her face and wondering if on God's Earth, he'd ever be able to stop kissing her.
Her hands slid down his chest and rested on his waist, and he pulled away. Her eyes remained shut and her lips still glistened from their recent contact with his, and despite the unwanted end of the kiss, he kept holding her face, thinking of her as the only support he had from collapsing to the floor.
"Scully," he whispered before clearing his throat of the unexpected crackle he discovered. For a moment he forgot why they'd even been doing this--it'd felt so good, it impeded his thought process. But when their earlier conversation crossed his mind, he almost felt silly asking her. "What did you. . .how was. . ."
She finally opened her eyes and stared right through his. A slight embarrassed smile appeared on her mouth. "I forgot to count."
He ran his thumb over her lower lip. "Well, I guess we'll have to do that again, then."
"Sounds good," she breathed.
"Because we should make sure we're following the rules."
"Certainly."
END
Just a small note. . . I thought I'd mention that the 30-Second Rule referred to here isn't my invention--someone I knew followed it wholeheartedly with any guys she dated.