By Gina Rain
ginarain@aol.com
 

Rating: R
Category: Fluff
Spoiler: Je Souhaite
Summary: Mulder multitasks by making discoveries while
making out.
Many thanks to: My beta, Sybil. You understand my work
and push me (in really the only effective way) to do
more. What more can a girl want?
Dedicated to: Lidia. It was such a pleasure meeting you
and I wish you so much in the coming year--most of all,
peace within yourself and the full knowledge of how much
you are loved and appreciated. God bless and have a good
birthday.
Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to CC and Co.

XXXXXXXXXX
 

So, I was in the middle of making out with Scully when I
made a serious discovery.

"What?" you say. "Back up. Hold the phone. I want more
details about this making out session. Screw the
discovery."

Well, if you insist.

Scully and I did that occasionally. Made out. Well,
perhaps that particular expression isn't entirely
accurate. Since the beginning of this, our seventh year
of partnership, we have taken our relationship to the
physical level. That's a romantic turn of phrase, isn't
it? Well, it's pretty much the way  I looked at it. And
I believe she did, too. We definitely knew we loved and
were in love with each other. But, damn, we were tired.

Who knew we could feel so old? It didn't seem possible.
I still remember how she walked into my office. There
was literally a gentle gust of air her hand created as
she extended it toward my own for that first physical
touch. It was prophetic, really. She was the breath of
fresh air in my stale existence. I felt like an ancient
soul before she entered the office, and a young buck
ready for action by the time she left. But now we're
both feeling our years and then some. I suppose knowing
your life journey ended in a completely different way
than you expected, and feeling you wasted a good portion
along the way ages a soul. Supporting someone in his
fruitless endeavor, apparently, has the same effect.

But I'm straying from the subject. Making out. Well,
having sex. Those are two very different physical acts
and we were only up to the sex. We began having it.
Together. Very serious, very loving sex. But, that's the
problem. There is a "but."

But … why now? Is it because we were so damned tired we
couldn't fight "it" anymore? Probably. And it's been
great. It really has. I come; she comes. We all come.
Still, there are devices that could handle that part
quite efficiently. The stuff they have designed for
women recently do everything but wash the dishes while
she's coming all over the place. But … there goes that
word again.

But … I want more. I think she does, too. I want more
than a few unscheduled appearances in each other's motel
rooms on the road. More than a few late-night visits to
each other's apartments when we're feeling particularly
lonely and vulnerable and don't seem to have anyone to
turn to but each other. I want the jump-on-the-coffee-
table, beat-my-chest-with-both- fists, "she-is-my-woman-
and-I-want-LOVE" kind of moment, complete with her
dissolving against the couch cushions in a fit of
girlish giggles worthy of the young girl-woman who was
once afraid of a few mosquito bites.

So, making out … no, we haven't covered that yet. We've
only established the fact that Scully and I do, indeed,
from time to time, when the moon isn't full, and the
stars aren't aligned, have sex. Good sex, but more or
less "just" sex. Everything else is subtext. That very
morning, I'd had three wishes that could have given me
all I wanted. Do you think I'd have had the presence of
mind to say, "I want sex to be a true representation of
everything this woman and I have felt for each other
since the moment we met?" Would that be specific enough?
Well, knowing Jenn, probably not. She'd probably make it
some grotesque manifestation of every angry feeling
we've had for each other and we'd end up knifing each
other's backs right before our first simultaneous
orgasm.

In any case, I wished for something else and ended this
day of wishes by inviting Scully over for an evening
with a light movie. It was hardly a date movie but
Scully wouldn't really want to watch Steel Magnolias
with me, anyway.  I'm not entirely sure she'd want to
watch it by herself, either.

She asked me about the final wish. I didn't say anything ,
but she knew. In an instant, she knew.  Apparently,
doing something nice for a genie is a big aphrodisiac in
Scully's book.

So, we were making out (eventually, I get to the point).
Really and truly making out. Not just as foreplay but
kissing like a couple of Saint Bernard puppies—all warm
tongues and enthusiasm, and lots of groping and hugging
and cuddling when I felt her reach for my belt buckle. I
was still deeply involved in the kissing and was barely
aware of my zipper's downward movement until her hand
slipped inside my shorts and surrounded my dick.

Ah, Scully. Yes, I do want sex. But this has been so
different. I'm not sure I'm ready for it to end.

Her eyes were tightly closed as her hand slowing slid up
and down.  I was thinking of a particularly nasty corpse
we ran into on one of our cases so the sex, when it
happened, would be more than just a "Shit. Sorry about
that," kind of event. I have to admit, though, I could
only conjure up a picture of a naked Scully doing the
autopsy on the stiff (pun intended). Her perfect little
breasts bobbing a little as she sliced and diced and …
well, I had to get the show on the road or I'd be taking
my bows alone while she booed from the front row.

So, I pulled her even closer to me and we continued
kissing while I attempted to remove her pants, which
were not magically slipping down her thighs (more good
wish material wasted in an act of genie-compassion),
when I heard this small, strange sound coming from her.
If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was—a whimper?

And, debonair romancer that I am, I immediately
responded with what sounded like a laugh. Not an out and
out howl, mind you, but an expression of amusement all
the same. It was an unconscious reaction and I didn't
want to hurt her feelings so I looked at her. Really,
really looked at her and saw …

Everything.

Scully—the woman with the ability to walk into dark
warehouses by herself, in the middle of strange cities'
most nefarious neighborhoods without flinching; the
woman who wouldn't hesitate to tell very bad men where
to get off—had fear in her eyes. Did she say too much
with that whimper? Did it reveal all? But, at the same
time, that look of fear was mixed with relief that, if
it did do just that, it was now out in the open. There
was even a promise of something more in that look.
Jubilation?  Her own version of the Mulder-coffee-table
declaration? "See this guy—the one whose dick I was
using as a hand-warmer—that  is MY man and I want LOVE."

Forgive me. I fantasize.

The real deal was straddling my lap with her pants
halfway down her thighs, her lips swollen, lovely and
very, very wet and her eyes expecting more than a laugh
as an answer to her whimper. I put my hands out and
cupped her face. I looked into her eyes and told her
everything right back without, of course, saying a word
because … why start now?

Yes, Scully, I know you need me. Just as I need you. We
need *this.* Not because we're sad. Or lonely. Or
defeated. We need this because if we don't have it, we
just may start proving some of those spontaneous human
combustion theories. We need this because … well, just
because. And it's a wonderful feeling. It's more than
just two people exercising their tired bodies. It's us—
making love. Damn. After seven years, it's us, making
love.

And, with the greatest of apologies to T.S. Elliot, my
tale ends with a beginning. The beginning of a true
romance.

This is the way our world begins…
This is the way our world begins…
This is the way our world begins…
Not with a bang, but a whimper.

The End

Author's Notes:
By now, some of you are probably banging your head
against the nearest metal object, saying, "Crap. I don't
believe she tried to cheer up  'The Hollow Men' by TS
Elliot. Will this woman's madness ever end ???"
Well, technically, I had Mulder do it and he's in love
so he can be forgiven, no?
Read the Hollow Men. Good angsty stuff.