By ML
msnsc21@aol.com
 

Date: Wed, 21 Mar 2001
Feedback:  happily received and responded to!
Distribution:  Yes, for anyone who has archived my stories before; if
you have not, please just drop me a line so I can come visit, and
keep my name, email, etc. attached. Thanks.
Spoilers: Lots and lots of spoilers, but only through Je Souhaite.
Requiem?  What Requiem?  Season 8?  Never heard of it.
Rating: PG-13
Classification: VR
Keywords: Mulder/Scully Romance

Summary:  A patient person will know when you need to be kissed, even
if you're not sure yourself.

Disclaimer:  Pride of ownership and concept goes to CC, Ten Thirteen,
and Fox Broadcasting.  Pride of creation goes to the actors who
portray the characters.  Pleasure of developing said characters
beyond the confines of the show goes to fanfic writers everywhere,
with the understanding that they don't belong to us, and we're not
making any profit from this activity.  Which is more fun?  I leave it
to yourself to determine <g>.

Author's notes at end.

Knowing When to Kiss
by ML

Mulder has never thought of patience as a virtue, particularly.
Certainly it isn't one of his.  That's why he can't understand how
he's managed to wait so long for something he wants so much.

He has had to do a lot of waiting for things that he's wanted over
the years.  Answers about his sister, for example.  But it can be
said of him that he waited actively, not passively.  He did not sit
and wait for the answers to come to him; he went after them, and in
the end, he got some answers.  Of a sort.

He's not completely sure why he's still waiting for Scully.  Why he
hasn't acted on his desires, let her know more definitively how he
feels.  Not that he feels he  hasn't given her at least some idea,
but so far his more emphatic moves have not been met with success.
Therefore, he tries to be patient, moving forward very slowly.  He
pushes the door a crack at a time, withdrawing if his movement causes
alarm of any kind on her part.

Mulder realizes he's mimicking Scully's scientific method,
experimenting with different scenarios and testing her reactions.
Once in a while the experiment suffers a setback and he analyzes
that, too.  He heard somewhere that you learn more from mistakes than
successes, but he's tired of making mistakes.  He's ready for some
success.  Even if it's just a small victory.

What has he learned from his mistakes?  He thinks of two examples
that stand out.  Number one:  don't blurt out that you love her if
there's any chance she'll think you're drugged.  For a long time
after that incident, he tried to think of ways to say it when he was
unmistakably clean and sober and somehow he never could.  And then
things really went to hell between them for a while.  Not that
opportunities hadn't presented themselves here and there, but he was
too wrapped up in resentment and frustration to do more than resort
to uttering innuendoes that he already knew would have the effect of
distancing her more.

Finally, after a lot of misunderstandings and some long gaps of time
he can't remember very clearly, they seem to be back on level ground
again.  He is conscious of what he owes her.  He is aware that she's
been through some harrowing experiences on his behalf, and that they
cost her.

He can tell how much by her tenderness toward him.  If he closes his
eyes even now, he can still feel the imprint of her lips on his
forehead, the brush of her thumbs over his lips.  It was the most
intimate gesture she'd ever made toward him, and he'd been unprepared
for it.

Since then, he has tried to use this waiting time to his advantage.
He observes her.  He has catalogued countless expressions, emotions,
and desires, spoken and unspoken.  He analyzes them at his leisure.
He wants to be ready when the time comes, if it ever does again.  He
wants to know exactly what to do, to give her exactly what she needs.

He still has the ability to misread, misinterpret, or just plain get
things wrong.  Example number two:  actually kissing her.  No drugs,
no declaration beforehand to be discounted or misunderstood.  He'd
simply turned to look at her, and she turned to look at him at just
the right moment.  Without further ado, he leaned into her lips.  The
kiss itself was great, though way too short.  How could he
demonstrate what he felt for her in eight to ten seconds?  He might
have gotten a return engagement if he'd just kept his mouth shut,
maybe if he'd just kissed her again.  Or maybe he would have gotten
the right hook her 1930's counterpart planted on him.

Now, *that* was a kiss.  Even though Time Warp Scully initially
resisted, he felt her lips go from firm and cool to soft and yielding
before he let her go.  And then she decked him.

At least on New Year's Scully hadn't decked him.  And she didn't try
to shrug him off when he put his arm around her.  But she wasn't
exactly warm and welcoming, either.  He could see the brief light
fade in her eyes as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

Lesson learned, then.  Kiss her, but keep your mouth shut afterward.
He's pretty sure he's learned what not to do, now if he could just
figure out what to do.

It was a hard winter, after New Year's.  Donnie Pfaster made a
reappearance, damn him to hell.  Then the LaPierre case and his
mother's death, in the same instant.  Then Scully's weird encounter
with Smoking Man.  Is it any wonder either of them has a hard time
picking up where they've left off?  It is more like one step forward,
two steps back.

Mulder sees now that he needs to be proactive, not reactive.  He
decides that coming up with some kind of plan, or better yet, several
plans, might be a smart thing to do.

He wonders if Scully has come up with scenarios for how to handle
him.  Scully always seems to know what to say to him, how to help
him, even if at the time he doesn't recognize it.  Sometimes he's so
mired in his own misery that he doesn't always see the gift of her
compassion and tenderness.  How does she always know what to say and
do?  Why does she keep on doing it, even when he acts like a jerk?
Does she think about these things ahead of time, or is it instinctive
with her?

He suspects she just knows.  He has seen her compassion from the very
first case they were on together.  Not just toward him, but toward
others whom she deemed merited it, too.  Maybe she hasn't always
gotten it right, but he can overlook those times as the exceptions
that prove the rule.  Scully just knows what to do, how to act.  He,
on the other hand, has no clue, at least where Scully is concerned.

Mulder settles himself on his sofa, eyes closed, TV playing softly in
the background.  He lets his mind wander around, picking out moments
with Scully that, given the chance, he would play out differently.

Okay.  Scenario Number One.  Maybe they'll be having lunch somewhere,
deli food out in the sunshine, away from the office and anyone they
know.  They'll be discussing some knotty problem, and Scully will
come up with one of her rational explanations.  He'll listen, never
once interrupting, not arguing with her at all.  And when she
finishes, he'll say something like, "You know, Scully, you're
probably right.  It probably *was* just swamp gas.  Let's move on to
a case that's more worth our time."  And she will be so astonished
that she will stare at him, her lips parted the way they often are
when he has shocked her into speechlessness.  And he will lean
forward, put one hand on her shoulder, and brush his lips over hers.

She may recoil with surprise just the barest bit, but he will not
back off.  He'll hold his lips against hers, firm and steady, and
give her a chance to recover.  He even knows what she'll taste like.
There will be a faint tang of that vinegar dressing she likes,
underscored by the sweetness of the diet soda.  Her lips will be cool
at first, but will warm against his.  He'll move his hand from her
shoulder to the base of her neck, and let his fingers brush the bare
skin above her collar, holding her steady as he lets his mouth play
over hers, breathing softly into her parted lips, moving to press
kisses on the corners of her mouth, her eyelids, the curve of her
chin.

When he finally pulls away from her, she will stare at him wide-
eyed.  And he won't say anything, he'll just smile at her, still
caressing her neck and shoulder, maybe taking her other hand in his,
bringing it up to his lips for a kiss of its own.

Or, try this one on for size.  They're on the road, and she comes to
his door, in distress about something.  Maybe there's a bug or a
mouse in her room.  Never mind that in all the rat traps they've
stayed in, Scully has never once had this problem.  He suspects she'd
dispatch any vermin with her shoe and then never speak of it.  But he
remembers the first time she ever came to his door in distress, and
how he reacted to it.  Granted, they'd barely known each other then,
but what will he do if it happens again?

He'll be reassuring, of course.  Tell her she has nothing to worry
about.  Accept her relieved hug, and instead of letting her go, hug
her back.  Place a soft kiss at the place where her neck and shoulder
meet, then another just above it.  Let his hands rub over her back,
slowly and comfortingly.  Murmur in her ear that everything is okay,
she's safe.  Feel her relax into his embrace, kiss his way to her
lips, and settle there until they both have to breathe.  This time
she'll taste minty, like toothpaste.  He might even get to touch her
teeth with his tongue, and find them smooth and minty, too.

Or, she comes to his apartment to tell him something.  It's not happy
news, and he is put in the position of telling her it's okay, he's
okay, in fact because she's here, he's more than okay.  He told her
once, and recently, how much she meant to him.  It prompted that
wonderful thumb-kiss against his mouth that left him too stunned to
react.  He can do better than that.

When he feels the pressure of her thumbs against his lips, he will
reach up and grasp her hands, holding them against his face as her
thumbs brush across his slightly chapped lips.  He will kiss them as
they caress him, and then he will take her face in his hands, and he
will give her the same comfort.  He will kiss her forehead, then both
temples, then trail down her cheek to her mouth.  His hands are
already cupping her face; he lets his thumbs brush across her lips to
the corners of her mouth.  They smear against her lipstick slightly.
He raises her face to meet his and he lowers his mouth to hers.  He
can feel the slight waxiness of the lipstick, smell the faint perfume
of it as he kisses her.  He hears her sigh, and feels her melt
against him as she tentatively, wondrously, begins to kiss him back.

Alternately, Scully appears at his door, fire in her eyes.  "I'm
tired of waiting for you to make up your mind, Mulder," she says,
marching into his apartment, hands on her hips.  "Would you just kiss
me already?"  She grasps his arms and pulls him closer, and before he
realizes what's happening, they are locked in a passionate embrace.
Scully has grabbed the lead and hangs on to it, moving her mouth over
his assertively, demanding that he reciprocate.  She nips his lower
lip, pushes her tongue over it and into his mouth, all the while
pressing her body tightly against him.

Oh yeah, that'll happen.  He shifts a little on the sofa, aware that
he is dangerously close to detouring into serious fantasy territory.

Back to work.  Okay, what about work?  It's a Saturday in the office,
and Scully is looking longingly out the window at the beautiful
spring day.  She has some sort of frozen dessert...what did she call
it?  Oh yeah, a tofutti rice dreamsicle.  Ugh.  But she tortures him
with it, even as he disparages it.  She licks the head of the cone,
the tip of her tongue catching any telltale drips from the edges,
carefully lapping all around the perimeter to get every last creamy
bit.  Her eyes are laughing at him, teasing him, as she does this.
He does the only thing he can do.  He grabs her wrist, feints as if
to take a bite of the nasty frozen thing, and zeroes in on her open,
laughing mouth.

The air in his mouth might taste better than tofutti, but not better
than Scully and tofutti together.  He licks the smears of sweetness
off of her lips, letting his tongue run along the edge of first her
top lip, then her bottom lip.  He can feel her breath, hear her
softly say his name, which only makes him bolder.  He deepens his
kiss, and she allows him to.  His lips cover hers entirely and his
tongue seeks the sweetness of the interior of her mouth.  He lets her
wrist go so that he can put his arms around her.  It makes him very
glad when she does the same, pressing against him, her hands reaching
up to cradle the back of his head.

Then what?  He can never get past that first kiss.  And no wonder.
That's the most fun part of coming up with these scenarios.  But he's
afraid that once he opens his mouth to speak, he will blow it, just
as he has in the past.

Mulder knows he wants more than just a couple of kisses, but he's got
to get to first base before he can contemplate any home runs.

Scully appears to be as willing as he is to try and move beyond the
terror and the sadness that seems to plague them.  They've started
inching closer to each other again.  One night, Scully says things to
him about signs along the way, signs leading them to this very
place.  She's being as clear as she knows how to be, he thinks.  As
she has become more and more open to extreme possibilities, she has
become more and more open to him.

He sees her falling asleep on his sofa as a sign that she  trusts him
completely.  He leaves her there, secure in the knowledge that they
are heading to where he so wants to be.  He thinks that at last
Scully wants to be there, too.  His patience is finally paying off.

It doesn't surprise or disappoint him that she's gone when he wakes
up.  He knows where to find her, and she knows where to find him.

Still, he doesn't do anything overt.  They have cases, they have
issues, there are still things to be resolved.  But they are okay
with the process, he thinks.  They both believe they will get there.
He has abandoned his fantasy scenarios and is content to believe that
this time, he will recognize the right time when it arrives.

They have started spending a little more downtime with each other,
without the excuse of a case to work on.  One Friday afternoon Mulder
feels so good about the way a case has closed that he invites Scully
over for a movie night.  "I'll supply the movie and the popcorn, if
you'll bring the beer," he tells her.  He knows Scully has good taste
in beer, but her movie preferences are somewhat suspect.  He doesn't
want anything heavy or serious tonight.  He wants something fun and
mindless.  He wants to get a pleasant buzz from the beer and the
proximity of the person he loves best in the world.

He may never tell Scully what has prompted his good mood  He's quite
pleased with himself; just thinking about it makes him smile.  Scully
will benefit from it, even without knowing about it.  They both will
benefit from it, he thinks.  He hopes.

Mulder is just popping the first batch of popcorn when Scully
arrives, a six pack of good stuff in her hand.

She sniffs the air.  "You didn't put butter on it, did you?"  she
asks a trifle anxiously.

"Not yet."  He is just about to melt a cube of butter in the
microwave.  He feels a pang of disappointment.  "No butter?"

Scully shakes her head firmly.  "No butter."

"Popcorn nazi," he mutters, but he grins at her.  Nothing is going to
shake his good mood.  Scully is here, neither of them is in pain or
in mourning, and baseball season is about to start.

They settle on the sofa, popcorn and beer at the ready.  Mulder can't
resist at least hinting at the reason for his good mood, though he
doesn't want to brag or set himself up as some wonderful guy for
doing what he did.  He thinks of the look on the genie's face as he
speaks his last wish.

Even though Scully does ask him what his last wish was, all he does
is smile and start the movie.

"I didn't make the world a better or happier place," he says.  But
that's okay, he thinks.  He's pretty happy anyway.

Basking in his own happy glow, Mulder almost misses what Scully is
saying.  "I'm fairly happy," she says.  "That's something."

She's happy?  Here, right now?  With him?  That's more than
something.  That's everything.  That's what he wants to hear.

Partway through the movie, Mulder puts his arm around Scully.  She
has tucked her legs up on the sofa and leans in to him, settling her
head against his shoulder.  With his other hand, he takes hers and
twines their fingers together, placing them on his thigh.  They sit
that way for quite a while.  Any pretense of watching the movie is
finished as far as Mulder is concerned.  He is only aware of Scully,
sitting tucked up next to him.

Should he kiss her now?  Or has she fallen asleep?  Her breathing
seems quiet and regular.  He peers down at her but he can only see
the top of her head and the tip of her nose.

"Scully?" he says softly.

She shifts a little and looks up at him.  "Yeah, Mulder?"

A small feeling of panic sweeps over him.  He backs off a
little.  "Nothing.  I thought you'd fallen asleep."

"And miss a moment of this classic?" she says.  "How could you think
such a thing?"

"You got awfully quiet there," he says.  "I thought I could hear you
snoring."

"I was not!"  She sits up indignantly.

"In fact, I think you might even have drooled a bit."  He rubs his
thumb along the corner of her mouth.

Scully punches him lightly on the arm.  "Take it back!"

"Uh uh."  He grabs her arm to keep her from punching him again, and
she lunges against him, the crown of her head butting him under his
chin.

"Yowch!"  He exclaims.

Instantly Scully is all concern.  "Mulder, are you okay?  What's
wrong?"

"I bit my tongue," he says thickly, poking it out and touching his
finger to it gingerly.

"Oh, Mulder, I'm so sorry,"  Scully says, but he notices she can't
keep from smiling.  "Here, let me look at it."  She takes his chin in
her hands.  "Open your mouth and stick out your tongue."

He does as he is told, unable to resist making the doctor's
office "ahh" sound.

Scully looks him over, eyes serious.  "I don't think there's any
permanent damage," she says softly.  "But I'd better run a few tests
to make sure."

Mulder feels slightly alarmed, and pulls his tongue back in
quickly.  "What kind of tests?"  He asks anxiously.

"Like this one," Scully says, and gives him a quick, open-mouthed
kiss.  It's a little poorly-aimed, catching the corner of his mouth
and then sliding over but there is no mistaking her intent.  Then she
sits back on her heels and looks at him expectantly.

Once again, he is stunned by Scully.  However, this time his
reactions are a bit quicker.  He pulls her back against him and
reciprocates, landing squarely on her lips, if a little harder than
he means to, bruising the inside of his mouth against his teeth.  A
small gasp escapes from Scully; he's probably done the same to her.

"Sorry, Scully," he says contritely.  "Did I hurt you?"

She rubs her finger over her gums experimentally.  "I'm okay."

He can't help himself, he has to say it.  "Did I pass the test?"  He
cringes a little inwardly, waiting for Scully to frown and withdraw.
But this is who he is.  He can no more stop with the smartass
comments than he can keep from breathing, or loving Scully.
Especially under these nerve-wracking circumstances.

Scully looks at him judiciously.  "I'd say your reflexes are good,"
she tells him, "but a good doctor is never satisfied with just a
cursory examination."

Now he can see the wicked little sparkle in her eyes.  Scully made a
joke!  Not just a joke, but one loaded with innuendo!  He tries his
luck a little more.  "Are you suggesting we play `Doctor,' Dr.
Scully?"  He raises his eyebrows at her.

She raises hers back at him.  "Think you're `up' to it, Mulder?" she
asks sweetly.

I'll see your eyebrows, and raise you two more, he thinks recklessly,
and counters with, "Maybe a little more mouth-to-mouth is in order."

"I think that's just what the doctor ordered," she says, and then
their mouths meet and mesh, perfectly this time.

The movie has been over for some time when they finally come up for
air.

He has never seen Scully look more beautiful, with her hair in
disarray, eyes heavy-lidded, face flushed, and lips swollen.  Mulder
never imagined, never could have imagined just how good it felt to
hold Scully.  To know  the soft pliancy of her mouth, its subtle
movements against his.  The touch of her tongue alongside his, the
mingling of her breath with his.

Now he knows what Scully tastes like.  She's beer and butterless
popcorn, and something more, a flavor that's hers alone.  She's tangy
and salty and sweet all at once.  He wants to know her taste in all
conditions and circumstances, and it looks like he might just have a
chance to find out.

The mere fact that she made the move on him, that she kissed him
first, humbles and gratifies him.  As if he needed more proof that
Scully just knows what to do, as if she needed to keep surprising him.

She snuggles against his side, a perfect fit, just as he knew she
would be.  He feels giddy.

"Now what, Mulder?" Scully asks softly.

This is the moment he has alternately looked forward to and dreaded,
ever since he started imagining this.  If he's going to screw things
up, this is when it will happen.  He is silent for a long time,
trying to come up with the perfect words.  Scully waits patiently for
him to speak again, content to be where she is.

In the end, the answer is as plain as day, and in fact is there in
his arms.  "Tell me what you want to do, Scully," he says softly.

"I have an idea," Scully smiles, leans into him and whispers in his
ear.  He feels the smile spread over his face.  She stands up, and
tugs on his arm to get him standing as well.  They walk together down
the hall to Mulder's bedroom.

There are of course, a few more minor injuries.  There are bumped
noses and knocked elbows, and a few muttered, "I'm sorries" amongst
the "I love yous."  But the end result more than makes up for any
problems along the way.

And after all, practice makes perfect.  Just as patience is finally
rewarded.

end.

Author's really long, involved notes (a mini-essay):

I heard this interesting little essay on NPR the other day about TV
kisses and how similar, and how unreal, they all are.  The
commentator observed that there is usually no fumbling, no
hesitation, just instant liplock and the appearance that the
participants are trying to chew each other's faces off.

I have to say, as frustrating as it sometimes is not to see *more* on
the show, I love the little things.  The hand touches, the forehead
kisses, the glancing contact.  They seem to have so much more meaning
than the usual romantic interactions.  This is not to say that, if we
were given the opportunity to see it, I wouldn't be eating it up with
a big spoon, screaming, "More!  More!" at the screen, subsequently
wearing out the tape with repeated viewings.  But I am a fan of
subtlety, too, and it's a darned good thing, isn't it? <g>

And when I get tired of subtlety, I just go find a really good little
smut biscuit and all is right with the world.  I love fanfic!

Thanks and acknowledgment also goes to the wonderful members of
the "I Want to Believe" list, whose discussions always give me food
for thought.  Thank you for making me welcome.

In any event, the story above is yet another view of why these two
haven't been doing the naked pretzel for years, and once again, how
they might have finally, fumblingly, made it there.  I hope you liked
this little vacation from angst and if you did (or even if you
didn't), please drop me a line and let me know.  msnsc21@aol.com

all my stories can be found at
http://angelfire.com/ak3/kimpa/mlfic.html

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