Summary:

Scully had a long day. Mulder wants to help.

Prompt # 9

Author notes:

I sat on this awhile not sure if it was good enough to post. But whatever. It's MSR, so that should be good enough.

Scully arrived home exhausted.

The surgery went well, at least she thought. Now it was a waiting game. She plopped down on the couch, kicked her sneakers off and placed her feet on the worn out coffee table.

"Well. How did it go, doc?" Mulder said, peeking around the corner from his home office door. Scully raised her head from the back of the couch at his voice.

"Good. I think."

Mulder nodded. She watched him as he walked over. He was barefoot and his jeans hung loosely at his hips, revealing just enough of his skin that caused her belly to flip.

He took a seat next to her on the couch. He'd been knee deep in research all day and looked like he was just as exhausted as Scully. But there was another look, one she had a hard time ignoring. She bit her bottom lip as she watched him settle in next to her.

"I bet you're tired," he said, placing his hand on her thigh. His touch was warm and it sent a tingle through her chest.

"A little," she said, suddenly feeling more energized by his presence.

"Hungry?"

Scully shrugged her shoulders at his question. Not really committed to the idea that she was hungry.

"Possibly."

"I'll make us something," Mulder said, readying himself to get up.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," her eyes fixated on the love of her life sitting next to her.

"Oh?"

Scully smiled.

Grinning now, "Ohhhh, I see," he said.

Mulder stood up and extended his hand. She took it of course. She couldn't think of a time when she hadn't taken his hand. She'd follow him anywhere.

Mulder pulled her into his chest. She threw her arms around his neck and their lips smashed with a sloppy, drunken intensity.

He moved his lips to her ear, "upstairs?" He whispered while his hands reached for the parts hidden under her clothing.

"No. Here," she commanded and she pulled her top off, revealing a soft camisole underneath. These were the moments she was grateful she had taken advantage of the hospital staff showers.

Mulder peppered her shoulder with tiny kisses; his beard grazed her skin as he did so. There wasn't much he couldn't do to her that didn't send chills down her spine.

Mulder had settled under her skin decades ago, and every touch was a reminder of just how much he had infiltrated her heart and soul, leaving a permanent mark on her that time could never erase.

She suddenly realized she was hungry.

But only for him.

For Mulder.