III.
"Langley, it's me. … Yeah, we're still on for Tuesday. Listen, can I borrow your van? … No, nothing fishy, just home decorating. ... No, that's not a lie. It's kind of a bedroom versus storage situation over here, I need to shuffle some boxes around. … Hey, I swear, that's the truth. … What? No, that has nothing to do with my messages on Scully's answering machine. … No! Ah, well, you know what? You were right. It is kind of an x-file mission, super secret, though. So, can I borrow the van?"
X
Mulder didn't really scrutinize the sudden impulse to declutter his bedroom, but he spent the better part of his Sunday going through boxes and taking things to the thrift store. Mid-afternoon, he had unearthed the furniture that gave the chamber its name and by the end of the day, he had a somehow presentable room and sat down on his neatly made bed, ready to face the question whom it should be presented to.
And who was he even kidding?
Ever since Scully had lifted the burden of guilt from his shoulders, he couldn't stop thinking about her; couldn't stop thinking about his hands under her skirt, the feeling of her body wrapped around his and the look in her eyes as she'd fallen over the edge. But most importantly, he couldn't stop thinking about the things he hadn't done. He hadn't undressed her, hadn't looked at her, hadn't seen her spread out in front of him. And he wanted that, he wanted time to marvel at her, time to explore her, time to treat her like she deserved to be treated. He wanted to hear her breathless voice telling him what to do and he wanted her in his arms afterwards.
With a sigh, he rubbed his brow.
Mulder didn't know if he'd ever get another shot, but he knew one thing: If the occasion ever arose, he wouldn't want to lie down with her on his couch. He wanted a bed, clean sheets and a room that looked and smelled nice.
And when he slipped into his freshly laundered sheets at the end of the busy day, he realized that having a proper bed was, even aside from hopeful fantasies starring his partner, a wonderful feeling.
X
On Monday, Skinner assigned them to the Violent Crimes Section for a case that needed his profiling and her medical skills. Mulder complained a bit, but mostly for common courtesy. For once, he didn't want to be sucked into the lure on an x-file, and since they could work together anyways, the assignment was okay – turned out to be quite satisfying even.
The awkwardness that had clouded their interactions since Comity was gone, replaced by a new kind of awareness. When Scully told him about Sunday breakfast at her Mom's, he observed reflections of sunlight in her hair, and after two autopsies back-to-back on Tuesday, he could tell that her neck was sore from the way she favored her shoulder. He filed away the image of her sunlit hair and stopped at the drugstore during his lunch-break to buy some hot patches for her. She thanked him sweetly, and he wished he could just give her a massage.
Tuesday evening, he met with the Gunmen for cheese steaks and conspiracies, trying to maintain his poker face when they asked him about Scully, wondering if her shoulder was still aching.
On Wednesday, a straightforward case, a down-to-earth unsub and textbook detective work resulted in an arrest. They shook hands with their fellow agents as they parted, and for once nobody called them spooky. 4 pm found them back in the basement with nothing but reports to write.
Feeling rather jolly, Mulder threw a pencil in the air and it hit the ceiling with perfect accuracy.
"Ha."
From across the room, her eyebrow arched up.
"So, Scully, I was wondering..."
"Yes?"
"A man. His lawnmower. Pizza and beer?"
"You really wanna make me watch this movie?"
He nodded.
"You're missing out. How about we call it a day and meet at, let's say seven o'clock at my place?"
She pondered her plans for the evening, but already knew that there was nothing more promising than an evening with Mulder in her cards.
"Alright. But just for the record, my expectations are very low."
"Ah well, low expectations can be kind of a blessing," he said with a wink, and for the rest of the evening, her mind kept on repeating that sentence.
Low expectations, it told her while she dressed casually and comfortably; low expectations, it reminded her when she drove to his apartment, when he opened the door in sweatpants and his Knicks shirt. He greeted her warmly, leaning down to brush her cheek with his lips, and her heart skipped a beat. Low expectations.
The pizza was huge with a thin crust, green peppers, pepperoni and mushrooms, just like she preferred it, the beer was cold, his couch as comfy as always, and the movie was... about as terrible as expected.
"He experimented on apes?"
"Don't they always?"
"And now he thinks it's a good idea to continue with the gardener?"
"Well, he is kind of successful, don't you think?"
"Successful in creating a half-digital sociopath?"
"Just because the project director swapped the drugs."
Her brow crinkled in adorable incredulity.
"I can't believe you make me watch this."
"Come on, only twenty more minutes. The director's cut is half an hour longer, by the way."
"How come you down own that one?"
"Oh, I do. In fact, I have both versions."
"That makes me a bit sad."
Leaning in, he bumped her shoulder with his, playfully so, but nonetheless, she winced slightly, immediately gaining his full attention.
"Crap, sorry. Your neck still sore?"
She gyrated her head carefully.
"A bit. The hot patches helped a lot, though."
"Can you turn around?"
"What? Why?"
"I'm gonna give you a massage."
Speechless and surprised, she stared at him for a moment, before finally shifting on the couch until he could face her back. He surprised her once more by gathering her hair in one hand before asking,
"You've got a hair tie?"
"No."
"Ah, it's OK. I think this will work nonetheless."
He massaged her scalp with both hands, letting her soft tresses run through his fingers, before pausing one more time.
"Scully, you're the physician. I trust you to stop me before I inflict permanent damage to your delicate spine."
She chuckled, but nodded, and then he touched her for real. Palming her neck, he pressed his fingers into the knots right next to her vertebrae, kneading firmly. Her head fell forward, and she sighed.
"Good?"
"Yes."
His voice had gotten breathy somehow, but so had hers.
He continued to work her muscles until they were like putty under his fingers. Every now and then, he dipped low into the neckline of her oversized shirt, exposing a pale bra strap on her shoulder, wondering if this might be the one. He circled her shoulder blades and moved to her upper arms, and just when he was back at the base of her skull, combing her hair with his fingers once again, the buzzing sound of the rewinding VHS tape brought them back to reality.
His fingers stilled on her shoulders, and she lifted her right hand, covering his left one with it. Splaying his fingers, he made room for hers between his own, and she accepted it, intertwining her fingers with his.
"We missed the end of the movie," she finally said.
"Ah, there's still the director's cut, if your interested."
Scully laughed out, but it turned into a yawn pretty soon, and after a brief moment, she allowed herself the dangerous luxury of leaning back into his chest. Mulder let go of her hand just to wrap his arms around her from behind. Her head fell into her neck and came to rest on his shoulder, right beside his chin, and she could feel his smooth skin at her temple.
He had shaved. Again.
"Thank you for the massage, Mulder. I feel really good."
"Anytime," he murmured into her hair, and his breath so close to her ear created goosebumps on her arms.
"I should go. It's getting late for a Wednesday," she finally said, and his gaze wandered to the window that separated them from the cold January night, only to be met with the surprising sight of heavy snowfall.
"Oh. Hmm, Scully, don't get me wrong, but I don't think you're going anywhere tonight."
He could feel her freeze in his arms, but then he lifted his hand and pointed at the window.
"Look."
"Oh no. Mulder, I have to go."
"You shouldn't be driving in this."
"But I really don't wanna sleep on your couch. I mean, it's a good couch, I like it a lot. But I need a bed."
"And you shall have one. Come on."
Disentangling himself from her, he got up, noticing that she had stayed put. He offered his hand to her.
"Come on," he repeated, and, with a puzzled look on her face, she accepted his hand, following him to his bedroom. His bedroom?
"Mulder," she breathed, but then he opened the door, revealing a full-fledged bedroom with a real bed to her.
"Wow, I didn't see that coming."
He waved his hand in dismissal.
"Since when do you have a bedroom?"
"Technically, it had always been there, just the storage situation had gotten a tad out of hand. So, you're gonna stay? There is an emergency set of clothes in your car, right?"
She nodded.
"Great. I can give you a spare toothbrush. What do you say?"
Her gaze wandered from the surprisingly tidy room to his expectant face.
"I say thank you for your offer. Given the heavy snowfall, staying overnight seems sensible."
Rubbing his hands, he turned towards the closet, coming back with one of his own shirts and a set of towels shortly after. Putting them onto the bed, he vanished once more, this time in the direction of the bathroom. While Mulder was rummaging around, Scully crossed the room, walking towards the window. Now that she didn't have to go out anymore, she snow looked absolutely pretty. Not as magical as the first one of the season, but still enchanting. She inhaled deeply, absorbing this moment of peace, while the icy flakes were dancing in the night air, silently covering streets and cars. Then Mulder was back, stepping beside her, sharing her moment.
"I found a new toothbrush and some kind of moisturizer. It's a sample pack, I got it while shopping your pantyhose, actually. The cashier probably thought there was a Mrs at home."
"Thank you, Mulder."
"I'm glad you're staying."
"Yeah, me too."
"Do you want fresh sheets on the bed? I only changed them last Sunday, but..."
"That's OK. You smell nice," she confessed, and something in his chest overflowed at her quiet words. Ever so gently, he lifted his arm, and she didn't hesitate to lean into his side. His hand slid down her shoulder, cupping her upper arm, and she turned her head until her nose was burrowed in the sleeve of his shirt.
"Snow is a funny thing, don't you think? Basically, it's just rain, but then you change one variable and suddenly, instead of just wet, everything is beautiful."
"Hmm," she simply hummed, wondering if he was still talking about snow, and since she was already as good as hugging him anyways, Scully turned around to take him fully into her arms. One second later, Mulder returned the embrace, cradling her safely in the circle of his arms.
He was everything solid, everything warm, but beneath the utterly familiar comfort of his hug, something else awoke, something that was both age-old and brand-new. Arousal.
A tightening sensation deep in her belly, heat unfurling even lower. She could feel her nipples hardening against the lace that was cupping them. Scully wrapped her arms even tighter around his back, pulling him flush against her body. A soft gasp left his lips, and she found out with sudden clarity that he wanted her as well. His lips landed on her neck, sucking gently, and a lightning bolt of need shot through her very core.
"Mulder."
His name tumbled out of her mouth, and he inhaled a shuddered breath, as he nuzzled her neck one last time before stepping back a few inches.
"Scully," he responded, his breathlessness matching her own.
"I..."
Taking her hand, he lifted it to his mouth, grazing her knuckles with his lips.
"You need a safe place to sleep, nothing else."
"Are you so sure about that?"
To emphasize her point, she let her gaze fall to the prominent bulge in his sweatpants.
"I need to be able to look into your eyes tomorrow morning. And I need that more than anything else."
He knew he'd said the right thing, when he saw a mixture of regret, acceptance and relief washing over her face.
"But... know that I am tempted. That I think about you. All the time."
Lifting her hand, she traced the contours of his face with her fingertips, His eyebrows, cheekbones, the rose-petal texture of his lips. They'd done that before, but this time, she didn't stop. Lifting herself onto her tiptoes, she replaced her fingers with her lips, moving over his with infinite care. He stilled, as if to protest, and for the fraction of a moment, she waited, but then he was right there with her, accepting what she had to give.
Opening his lips to let her in.
It was warm inside his mouth, so warm and welcoming. Her tongue slipped inside as if it wasn't the first time, and technically it wasn't, but Comity had gone by in a rush with no time to capture the moment. Today, she knew there wouldn't be more than this kiss and she wanted to make it count. Scully took her sweet time to explore the inside of his mouth before meeting his tongue in the most intimate dance. And once more, his arms went around her, almost lifting her from her feet, as he crushed his lips to hers, as he showed her just how tempted exactly he was.
They kissed with lips and tongues and hands, kissed in unison with the snowflakes and their flurry dance around each other, and the heat inside of her threatened to melt the snow on the other side of the window. They only broke apart when the need for oxygen became impossible to ignore, and, even though she was panting heavily, her face was aglow with the brightest smile.
And Mulder could look into her eyes, as he bid her goodnight.
X
His bed was wonderful and smelled, indeed, a bit like him. Scully turned around, hugging his pillow and thinking about him out there on the couch. He was fine, she knew that he was fine, that they were. Outside, the snow was reflecting streetlamps and moonlight, bathing the room in an ethereal glow. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so at peace, and that was the thought carrying her to sleep.
X
On the other side of the wall, Mulder was experiencing a similar level of peace and gratitude, even though he had more difficulties falling asleep thanks to the deep ache in his groins. He liked that she was in his bed, liked it a lot. But he didn't really know what to do about it.
The alarm awoke him at 6 am. A glance at the window told him that the snowfall had stopped sometime in the night, leaving behind a thick white blanket. Digging out his car wouldn't be fun. He made a quick detour to the kitchen to start the coffee machine before going for a shower. Once dry, he remembered that his clothes were in his bedroom together with Scully, so he wrapped a towel around his hips.
Padding into the hallway and opening the door happened very carefully, and she was still sound asleep, snoring softly. Red curls were spilled all over his pillow, and she looked so impossibly young and small that he had to stop for a moment, utterly mesmerized by her alabaster beauty. He knew that she was fierce and strong and accomplished, but right now, she was also soft and drowning in his shirt. A mighty wave of protectiveness hit him hard.
She was his partner. And he didn't really know how to deal with the rest of the truth.
Inhaling deeply, Mulder turned towards his closet because the last thing that he wanted was for her waking up and finding him staring at her, half-naked nonetheless.
Five minutes later, he was back, fully dressed and a cup of coffee à la Scully in his hand. This time, he tried to be as disruptive as possible, but still, she didn't wake up, only furrowed her brow in sleep. Eventually, he approached the bed, taking a seat on the mattress beside her, brushing her sleep-warm cheek with his knuckles.
"Scully?" he whispered, and she groaned without opening her eyes.
"Scully?" he tried again, but she simply rolled around, presenting her back to him.
He chuckled.
"Good morning, Scully. Hello? Good morning."
Outstretching his hand, he stroked her shoulder, and this time, he knew that she'd woken up.
"Good morning," he said one more time, and she turned around, looking at him with unfocused eyes. He felt himself softening from the inside out.
"Coffee?"
She nodded and cleared her throat.
"Hi," she finally said, her voice still thick with sleep.
His lips curved up.
"My bed suits you."
"Hmm. It's a very cozy bed. Why are you dressed?"
"Well, one of us has to find and dig out your car to get your clothes."
"I parked under the tree line by the curb, maybe we got lucky and it was protected a bit."
"That's good news. You wanna take a shower?"
Taking a sip of her coffee, she nodded.
"Yes, please. And thank you for the coffee. "
"I'd offer you breakfast, but all I have is leftover pizza."
She scrunched up her nose.
"Maybe we can get a bagel on our way to work?"
Nodding, he leaned over, brushing her hair with his lips and inhaling her early morning scent before finally getting up.
"Next time, there's gonna be breakfast," he promised before he walked out, leaving her behind with a swarm of butterflies. Next time...
He found her car, got her clothes, they made it to work. Plus the bagels. And for the rest of the day, she drove him crazy with the scent of his shower gel on her skin.
Mulder wasn't sure if it was heaven or hell.
To be continued...