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Scully's Apartment

10:45 PM

The three rapid knocks announced his arrival. She looked up from her book as he pushed open the front door and closed it firmly behind him. She smiled at his expression - sympathetic, angry, even slightly amused. Behind it all was a significant amount of empathy. He'd been there himself.

He sat down beside her on the sofa and lifted her legs onto his lap. She examined his profile. "Everything okay?"

He nodded. "It's disconcerting. Like seeing your father cry for the first time."

Scully's brow furrowed. "Mulder. Was he crying?"

"No, no. Just - I've never seen him wasted before. Or miserable like that. And - I guess I didn't make it any better."

"Mulder. What did you say?"

"I told him to never do that again."

Scully released a breath and smiled. She ran the soles of her feet back and forth across his thigh. "Well, it may not have made him feel better, but -" She stopped herself and crinkled her brow. "You didn't hit him or anything, did you?"

Mulder huffed an amused breath and shook his head. "Even drunk, he'd have probably kicked my ass."

She grinned and shrugged. "Men need to stake their claims, Mulder. It's part of the natural order of things. You didn't do anything wrong."

Mulder turned and leaned toward her. "Are you imparting the caveman rationalization into this event, Scully? Hunt, gather, woman - mine?"

She leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips. "I'm rather fond of you despite your caveman qualities, Mulder."

"Flatterer."

Mulder pulled her toward him and began nibbling on her neck, humming his satisfaction. Scully smiled at the snuffling sounds. "Your cheeseburger's in the oven, Mulder."

"Mm," he mumbled.

"I'll keep. The burger won't," she said pushing him away.

He pouted as she stood and moved toward the bedroom.

"Hey, Scully? Would you dress in a skimpy animal skin and little else if I asked you?"

"No," she said without breaking stride.

She disappeared, and Mulder smiled.

* * * *

She closed her eyes and let her other senses take over. Her hands drifted over his warm back and shoulders. She curled her fingers and skimmed down his sweat-slicked arms braced on either side of her. They smelled of the dark, musky moisture that pooled between them. And of heat. Soft sighs filled the room as they moved slowly, lazily. No hurry. She smiled and opened her eyes to find his.

She unwound her legs from around him and dropped her feet flat on the bed. Her hands moved over his arms, his shoulders, and she twined her fingers into his hair, tugging.

"Come here," she whispered.

He lowered his head and gave her his lips to suck on and caress with her tongue. He tasted of her and faintly of Grey Poupon mustard. She imagined she tasted of scotch and -

She nipped at Mulder's earlobe. "I want to be on top."

She tucked her legs against him and they rolled, joined. She rose over him and planted her hands firmly on his chest. She squeezed and kneaded his pectoral muscles and milked him as her thighs pulsed her up and down, up and down.

He had tasted of -

He groaned and grunted with surprise as she quickened her pace. She pulled his right hand from her hip and tugged it behind her, pressing his fingers between the smooth globes of flesh. "Touch me," she whispered and bit painfully into her lower lip as his finger gathered moisture and probed, discovered and finally delved into her body.

It was a new invasion, and her breath exploded from her lungs.

He had tasted of -

Faster. She moved faster and her nails dug crescents between the hairs on his chest as her orgasm blindsided her. She came suddenly, shuddering with a shout, surprising herself. She locked her elbows and rode him harder, whispering and encouraging and demanding, "comecomecomecomeon -" and he spilled into her with a gasp.

She dropped to his chest, and he slipped and pulled out of her body with a groan. She rested on him, and placed wet, open kisses over the damp skin on his neck and chest. "So good. So good," she said.

He had tasted of -

Her fingers sifted through his hair and massaged his scalp. "I love you," she whispered as they caught their breath.

She raised her head and kissed his lips and his tongue as it darted out to taste her. He smiled. "That was new."

Her eyes darted to the bedside table, and she shook her head. "It was - " She smiled and closed her eyes, embarrassed. "Don't make me talk about it."

He pushed her hair back from her face. "I just said it was new, Scully." He smiled and whispered to her. "You don't have to explain yourself."

She kissed him again and stroked his cheek. "I'm starving. I don't suppose you left any of that burger."

He folded his hands behind his head. "You see, the problem with doing the right thing and ordering something good for you is the overwhelming feeling afterwards that something was missing. You, Scully, have a saturated fat and cholesterol deficiency."

"Pshhh."

"I mean it. You're craving the remnants - if, in fact, there are any," he said slyly, "of that burger. In many cases, cravings are indications of what the body needs. You," he emphasized with a wave of his elbow, "don't allow yourself to give into cravings and desires."

She grinned and suckled at his bottom lip. "I don't?"

He chuckled. "Food wise."

She pulled away from him and sat up in bed. "Did you finish that burger or didn't you? I'm looking for a yes or a no, here."

"No."

She smiled and patted his chest. She rolled off the bed and pulled Mulder's shirt from the pile at end of the bed. "You want something to drink?"

He shook his head and closed his eyes. "I'm good."

Scully padded from her bedroom buttoning Mulder's shirt along the way. The kitchen smelled like fresh paint, and she proudly observed the gleaming white cabinets surrounding her. No visible drips. They had done a good job.

She opened the refrigerator and pulled out the white Styrofoam container. She found that he had left nearly a quarter of the big burger, and she popped it into the microwave.

Mulder fancied himself somewhat of a connoisseur of burgers. He had been known to order grilled onions and blue cheese, gouda and avocado. This one was medium rare, char-broiled with feta cheese, mayo and Grey Poupon. "The perfect burger," he had said inspecting it from all sides before the first bite. While he inspected, she had stolen his fries. Who said she didn't satisfy cravings?

Like when they were making love.

The microwave chirped and she opened the door to the juicy mess inside. She put it on the counter and ripped a paper towel off the roll under the sink. The first bite was an explosion of flavor in her mouth. Mulder knew his burgers.

And he knew how to satisfy her sexual cravings. Like tonight, with a little prodding and direction, they had explored uncharted territory. And God, it was good. Even without the fantasy that accompanied it, it would have been good. Wonderful. Amazing. She was sure of that. Yes, she was sure.

She licked the juice and cheese from her fingers. They'd begun sharing fantasies with one another only recently, bit by little bit. It was easy in the dark, during sex. She could show him and tell him things she could never say fully clothed in the reserved light of day.

She popped the rest of the burger in her mouth.

He had tasted of -

That's just how she was. Reserved.

And reserved Dana Scully would never admit to Mulder the fantasy that had flooded her mind tonight. Never. Not out of reservation, but - what? Would it hurt him? It occurred to her upon contemplation that he might get some kind of pleasure from the image she had created. Of herself and Mulder and -

But it was for her. It was just for her. And that should be all right. She should be allowed things just for her.

She threw away the Styrofoam container and washed the grease from her hands.

Aside from the sticky residue of their lovemaking, Scully discovered she was wet again. She admonished herself and braced on the counter. The problem was, the reason she couldn't tell Mulder was -

She shook her head. It seemed out of bounds. The vision of a stranger - that might be acceptable. But to allow -

Her arousal had to shove over to share space with her anger. She didn't want to feel this. He had invaded her space at the bar, then invaded her mind and then invaded the bed she shared with Mulder. Her superior, *their* superior, his hard body pressed against her, behind her, over her, inside her while she looked down over Mulder at *his* body inside her and - oh - out of bounds. To imagine the satisfaction as they plunged inside, both of them crying her name, burying themselves within her, surrounding her front and back, touching her and clutching at her and fucking her and -

Scully groaned and blinked the moisture into her eyes until they were dry again.

Why the hell did he have to kiss her? Why the hell did he have to be the one to put a face to this fantasy?

He had tasted of - despair.

He had tasted - impotent. Hands tied, mouth gagged, unable to breech the unseen entities that held him away from them. Out of their loop of trust.

He had tasted of a cry for help.

He had tasted of desire.

She feared the taste would never leave her.

* * * *

FBI Headquarters

3:15 PM

Scully walked slowly from the elevator to the door outside Skinner's outer office. She was giving herself time to change her mind. At the threshold, half in and half out, her misgivings caught up with her. She was about to turn and run when his assistant glanced up and caught Scully hovering in the doorway.

"Agent Scully? Can I help you?"

Scully took a hesitant step inside. "Is he in? I just need a minute if he's free."

"Yes, I think so." Kimberly picked up the phone and spoke in hushed tones into the receiver while Scully shifted her weight from foot to foot. Her mind screamed at her. Wrong! Wrong! He'd want to let this go. Forget it happened! Wrong! Wrong -

"Agent Scully?" Kimberly nodded at Scully and gestured to the Assistant Director's door. "You can go in."

The walk to his office was through a deep pool of molasses. The door was an iron gate, heavy and daunting. Beyond the door, she would either be enfolded in the king's arms or banished and beheaded.

Neither prospect particularly appealed to her. Caring distance was a happy ideal.

She opened the door, and he greeted her on his feet with a stern look and a nod.

"Agent Scully." He gestured to a chair, and she took her customary place before him. For some reason, it bothered her that he remained standing a moment too long, looking down on her.

When he finally took his seat, he folded his hands in front of him and allowed his expression to soften. She watched the muscles along his jaw contract and relax. "What can I do for you?"

She hesitated. She glanced around the room, her gaze fixing on lamps, the credenza, the phone, the smoke alarm. Skinner followed her gaze and met her eyes when she turned back to him. He nodded. "It's all right." His eyes darted over his desktop, and he sighed. "I know that statement doesn't carry a lot of weight, Scully, but I hope it makes a difference when I say that I realize this is probably about me."

Scully lifted a brow and gave him a half smile.

"As it happens," he continued, "I really should be coming to you. To apologize. About the other night." He cleared his throat, and his words came out in a harsh whisper. "It was unforgivable. But it was meant as a -" He cringed in frustration. "It's not how I meant it, Scully. There's more to it, and I just can't - "

His anger at his own helplessness was evident, and she realized it had little to do with a simple, unsolicited kiss. Scully's features softened, but she pinned him with a look filled with challenge: Tell me the truth. "You're compromised," she said.

His eyes darted to hers.

"Why can't you come to us?" she whispered. "Why won't you tell us?"

A wry chuckle came out with his breath. "Us."

"Sir?"

"Because they've got my balls in a vice, Scully. There are things hanging over my head more than my career. More than my life. There are other lives, too. I'm responsible for too many horrendous potentialities, and you're one of them." He huffed softly again. "You *and* Mulder," he said. "And the deeper Mulder digs - both of you - the deeper I go. Sinking under the weight of his precious truth." His lips thinned as he pushed away the anger in his voice and tried to replace it with something less volatile. "I suppose it caught up with me last night."

"I can't believe that there isn't a way for you to let us help you. Why would you do this to yourself?"

"I'm not the martyr around here, Scully. I hope I come out all right on the other end, but this is how I choose to go down this - the only path I have. We're not in opposition. I hope you can believe that. I think our paths are probably," he smiled grimly, "parallel."

She returned his smile, no less grim, and she narrowed her eyes in confusion. "That's why you kissed me?" she asked in a whisper.

Skinner lowered his gaze and frowned. "You and - you and Mulder have a connection. You always did. But now... I don't know how long this has been going on, but I suspect it's pretty new."

His inflection and the tilt of his head indicated it was a question, and she nodded her head. He nodded back, acknowledging her confirmation.

"I'd appreciate an acceptance of my apology and the promise that it will never happen again," he said. "You're a -" He paused, searching for the words. He shook his head. "I know it's not something you just forget. I know that all it's causing you is - grief."

Scully stared at her shoe.

Skinner rubbed his forehead. "Shit."

Scully met his eyes.

"Scully, I won't deny that there's a - that I'm attracted to you." His eyes swept her face, and he shrugged slightly. His gesture said, 'how could I not be?'

"I also care about you. Not just as an agent in my charge, but as someone I've called a friend. It's a hard combination to simply ignore."

She smiled at this.

"But Scully I'd never - I'll never again act on that. You have my word. Mulder has my word."

Her eyes showed him the frown she kept at bay. "This isn't about Mulder, sir."

Skinner nodded, understanding. Still, the set of his jaw was stern, and something behind his eyes pleaded with her to just understand and believe. And forgive.

"I imagine Mulder had a few choice words to say," he said moving a folder from one side of his desk to the other. "I don't blame him."

"Mulder," she started and shook her head. "Mulder understands." Skinner raised a brow, and Scully smiled. "It happens. He surprises me, too, sometimes."

She stood. The fingertips of her right hand rested on the edge of his desk as she formulated a dignified and professional ending to this conversation.

He looked up at her and spoke before she could think of anything. "My fantasy, Scully, is that this had never happened, and you'd never have had to know."

So much for a professional exit. "We can't always count on our fantasies to come true, can we, sir?"

His head shook in resignation. "No, we can't."

Scully nodded and turned for the door. "Sir," she said without looking back. "I'm -- we're here for you. If you need us. You don't have to be alone."

When she glanced over her shoulder, she caught his grateful smile before he could think to mask it. She smiled in return, turned and left him alone.

* * * *

Mulder's Apartment

11:20 PM

She found him asleep in bed, the light on the nightstand glowing around him. She plucked the glasses off the end of his nose and removed the book from his chest before she undressed and turned out the light. Quietly, she slid onto the mattress next to him.

"Mulder," she whispered. She brushed her hand over his chest. "Mulder."

He opened his eyes and she kissed him. "You know, for a generally paranoid man, you sleep like the dead."

"I was awake. I smelled your perfume when you opened the door."

She shook her head, leaned over him and began kissing his cheek, his chin, the corner of his mouth. He hummed and closed his eyes. She crawled over him, resting her body along the length of his. "Liar."

He chuckled into her hair.

She brushed her knuckles up and down over his cheeks. "I went to see Skinner this afternoon. That's where I was," she whispered.

"Mm hm."

"When you asked where I'd gone, and I didn't tell you. That's where I was."

"Okay."

Scully sighed and rested her head over his breastbone. "'Night."

Mulder was breathing deeply, evenly, and it startled her when he spoke. "Why are you feeling guilty, Scully?" He smiled when he opened his eyes and found her staring at him. "'Cause of the other night." She realized it wasn't a question. It didn't need to be. He knew.

She shook her head and warmed her lips against his skin. "Have you ever had a fantasy - a sexual fantasy that you couldn't get out of your head? Something so powerful that - you truly wished you could make it happen? But at the same time, something so uncomfortable that you prayed you could forget it?"

Mulder ran his hands lightly up and down her body. "Have you always had it, or is it just because of him? Because of what happened."

Her mouth dropped open in embarrassment. "I -" She shook her head. "Oh, Mulder. I'm sorry."

He frowned. "Why are you sorry?" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Tell me."

Scully sighed heavily and closed her eyes. "I can't talk about this, Mulder."

"Yes, you can."

"No."

"I think you want to," he said softly. She hesitated. He helped her. "I'm here. And it's just a fantasy. Isn't it?"

"Of course!"

"I mean honestly."

"Yes, honestly. Realistically, it's something I could never go through with. I just couldn't."

"Not even with a stranger?"

"Stranger, friend - it doesn't matter. I'm just - I can be - Our relationship is too personal, Mulder. I could never let someone else interfere with us like that. Could you?"

"Realistically? No. I don't think so." He shrugged. "I mean also realistically, if I were actually confronted with it, in the heat of the moment, if it were right there in front of me -"

"Mulder."

"I don't know. Maybe."

Mulder suddenly reached for the phone and thrust it into Scully's hand. "Go on. Call him. Let's test the theory."

Scully's bark of laughter was loud enough to make her slap her own hand over her mouth. She took the phone from him and hung it up just as the recorded message began. "If you'd like to make a call, hang up and --"

"You're very funny," she said. Her attempt to lace her voice with contempt wasn't working. "I was really bothered by this."

"And now you're not?"

She kissed his chest after a long moment of silence. "You were right. Talking helps."

"The bottom line, Scully - 'cause I know you're a bottom line woman whenever possible - is that it is only a fantasy we're talking about, and you don't have to feel guilty whenever you pass him in the hall and smile. Do I need to feel guilty if I should ever run into Maureen Stapleton?"

"Of - of course not."

"Then there you go."

Scully slipped to Mulder's side and rested her head on his shoulder. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Scully closed her eyes and allowed the corners of her mouth to curl upwards. "Maureen Stapleton?" she queried into the darkness of his bedroom.

"It's - there was a - it's personal."

She patted his chest. "Okay. Goodnight, Mulder."

"'Night, Scully."

She smiled and nuzzled into the warmth of his shoulder, content.

END