WhiteLie.html

Little White Lie

Author: mimic117

Email: mimic117@yahoo.com

Rating: NC-17 for adult subject matter. Nothing graphic, though.

Category: S, PWP, mild MT

Spoilers: nada, zip, bupkis

Summary: Sometimes a little white lie will get you in a lot less
trouble than the whole truth.

Keywords: M/S UST, one-bed fic

Archive: By all means, feel free to house it wherever you like.
I'll do Gossamer and Ephemeral myself, thanks.

Disclaimer: I'm really getting sick of saying this, but these
original characters aren't mine. I don't think the creators deserve
them anymore, but that's not my call. I promise to put them back
where I found them; a bit tired but also happier, too.

Author's Notes: Just a weird little idea I got one day when I was
supposed to be doing something else. My muse likes to do that.

Thanks: To all the readers who have taken the time to let me
know how much they've enjoyed my stories. This fic is the direct
result of your encouragement. So it's not my fault, y'all.

Specific beta thanks: To Cindy, for giving it the thumbs-up in
record time. And to Dan, because he actually read it without
having to cover his eyes. I guess you're a big boy now.

Feedback: Is printed out and kept in a little shrine to be
worshipped daily at mimic117@yahoo.com.

Visit all my stories at mimic117.freeservers.com/index.html

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Little White Lie
by mimic117

9:45 PM
Pennsylvania Turnpike
Bedford County, Pennsylvania

"Mulder, just take the damned pills."

Sparing a quick glance away from the snowstorm that was pelting
down on the windshield of their rental car, Scully took in the
pinched look on her partner's face. It was obvious that he wasn't
going to do as she said, so why was she still trying to change his
mind?

"No. We've been over this already, Scully."

"I don't understand why you're acting like this."

"You know painkillers knock me out. We still have a long way to
drive."

"So just take one instead of the prescribed dosage."

"I'll still get drowsy. I'm not going to sit over here drooling in
my sleep and leave you without someone to watch your back."

Before Scully could open her mouth to reply, the rear of the car
fishtailed on the slush-covered road. Clamping her lips into a thin
line, she concentrated on spinning the wheel against the slide,
seesawing the car back and forth until it straightened again.
Mulder made no comment other than to clutch his left arm and
grunt in pain as he was flung back and forth in his seat. Scully
blew out a relieved breath as they resumed a more cautious
progress down the deserted highway.

"Then you don't need to worry, because I'm stopping at the next
motel I see and getting us rooms for the night. This snow is
getting worse, and you're in no shape to be sitting in the car for
hours."

Scully's fingers tightened on the steering wheel in response to
Mulder's put-upon sigh. She chanced a peek at him only to find
herself looking at the back of his head as he stared out the
window into the flake-specked darkness.

When Mulder insisted on going home instead of staying in
Pittsburgh, it had seemed like a good idea. The airport was
closed because of sudden snow squalls, but the storm was
traveling northeast and they were going south, so even driving for
six hours didn't appear too bad if it got them home faster. At
least until the storm front sped up, shifted south, and started
dumping right on them before they'd even made it out of the state.

Seeing the fuzzy glow of a large neon sign up ahead through the
snow, Scully heaved her own long-suffering sigh and slid into the
parking lot of the Ease E Motor Lodge. Stopping in front of the
sign that said "office," she put the car in park, leaving it running.

"I'll be right back." She waited for Mulder to say something, but
the only response she got was a jerk of his head as he continued
staring out the window. Scully got out, then slammed the car door
with unnecessary force.

The news she received in the motel office didn't improve her
temper. It seemed everyone else who was traveling that night had
wised up before she did, and all available rooms were booked.
Except one. Which only had one bed. A double bed -- not a
queen. It appeared this was also the only motel in the area that
hadn't modernized their rooms since the 1950s.

Tense silence reigned in the car as she drove around to the back
of the building and found their room number. Scully didn't bother
to offer Mulder any help as he struggled to unfasten his seat belt
and get out.

<He'll just insist on doing it himself. Let him find out how
painful it is the hard way.>

By the time he'd joined her at the motel room door, Scully was
regretting her mental hissy fit. Mulder limped slowly toward her,
his face pinched and pale. Sweat beaded his hairline, even
though the bitter wind blew snow into his face, and he cradled his
left arm with his right, in spite of the sling. Scully turned to
unlock the door, biting her lip to keep any solicitous comments to
herself. She felt guilty about her petty attitude, but she wasn't
ready to admit that she was being childish just yet.

She flipped on the light switch as Mulder followed her into the
room. It looked better on the inside than she'd expected. The bed
was covered in a colorful quilt-patterned spread. A painting of a
spring meadow over the headboard reflected the colors in the
spread, giving the room a light, cheery atmosphere. Walking to a
door in one corner, Scully opened it to find an equally cheery, full-
sized bathroom, not a counter-sink in the bedroom with the tub
and toilet closed away. This was a real bathroom, with a vanity
sink, combination tub and shower, and plenty of space to move
around. Scully foresaw a nice long soak in a tub full of steaming
water in her immediate future.

Coming out of the bathroom, she realized that Mulder had stopped
just inside the door. He was surveying the small room as though
there was something nasty under the bed.

"Is this your room or mine?" he asked.

"They only had the one room."

He looked pointedly at the double bed. "So which of us is
sleeping in the car?"

"Neither. We're going to act like grown-ups and share." Scully
pulled the bottle of pain pills out of her jacket pocket and plunked
them on the dresser with an audible snap. "I'll be right back with
the luggage."

Scully fumed to herself over the fact that he hadn't offered to
help, even as she acknowledged that she wouldn't have let him if he
had. Popping the trunk open, she wrestled the two suitcases out
of the shallow compartment, thumping them to the ground, then
slamming the lid. All the excessive force wasn't really necessary,
and now their luggage was going to be wet from sitting on the
snowy ground, but it was better than following her initial instinct,
which was to thump Mulder a good one.

She'd almost managed to talk herself into a better mood by the
time she dragged the luggage through the snow into the room.
Hearing water running in the bathroom fanned her remaining
shreds of irritation into a nice bonfire of perturbation.

"You're not taking a shower, are you?" she shouted, banging on
the bathroom door. "Those scrapes have to stay dry for at least a
couple days."

The water stopped running, but there was only silence for several
long seconds. When Mulder finally answered, she could hear the
controlled sarcasm dripping from every word.

"Thank you, DR. Scully. I already got that lecture from your
colleague in the emergency room. I'm just going to use a wash
cloth to clean off some of the funk and grime, if that's okay with
you."

Scully snorted in annoyance. "Whatever, Mulder. Just be careful
not to get those scrapes wet."

His only answer was the renewed thunder of water in the sink.

She set about getting the room ready for the night as she waited
for her partner to finish his ablutions. Turning up the thermostat
on the wall heater, Scully scowled at the ominous rattle coming
from the ancient unit. The air being produced seemed lukewarm
at best. Past experience with cranky old motel heaters had her
checking to see if there were extra blankets available. She was
relieved to find a decent supply of polar fleece linens in the
dresser's bottom drawer.

Mulder finally emerged from the bathroom, clad only in a pair of
shorts, angry red scrapes on prominent display. The sling was
missing, but he supported his left arm across his chest. It was
obvious he was in a world of hurt. His face was no longer pale --
it was gray and drawn. The vertical lines between his brows etched
deep furrows of misery into his forehead. He held himself stiffly,
moving his entire body as a unit, as though it were a solid block of
wood incapable of bending.

"How did you get your shirt off?" Scully asked.

"Very carefully." The words came out in shreds through gritted
teeth. Mulder limped to the dresser and picked up the pill bottle
in his right hand. When he was able to flip it off with his thumb,
Scully was glad she'd thought to ask for a non-child-proof cap.
She retrieved a glass of water from the bathroom and handed it to
him. The look on Mulder's face when he took it told her that he
wasn't going to apologize for being a shithead, but he was sorry,
anyway.

"You want to sleep on your right side, Mulder, or on your back with
your left side at the edge of the bed so I don't bump you by
accident?" Apology accepted.

Downing one pill, he handed the glass back. "I'd better take the
left," he said. "Sleeping on my back is almost automatic after so
many years on the couch."

Scully took the glass to the bathroom and returned with the
discarded sling. "Let me help you get this back on, then," she
said. When Mulder grimaced in distaste, she raised an eyebrow
at him. "I know you don't like sleeping trussed up, but it will
keep you from flinging your arm around in your sleep. I don't think
you'd enjoy waking up in the kind of pain that would cause."

The resulting stare-down wasn't much of a contest. Bowing his
head in defeat, Mulder pulled his left arm away from his chest with
his right hand. It took both of them working together to get the
sling on while avoiding the pebbled scabs running from shoulder
to elbow. By the time they were done, Mulder's eyes were at half
mast from the painkiller.

Pulling back the blankets on the bed, Scully helped him to lie
down. She tried to cover him as warmly as possible without
putting undue pressure on his scrapes. His slight hiss of pain told
her that she'd been only marginally successful. Scully watched as
Mulder's eyes drooped shut within seconds.

Time for that nice hot soak, she decided. Opening her suitcase,
she removed her flannel pajamas and toiletries bag.

"Scully?"

Having assumed he'd fallen asleep, she jumped at the sound of
his voice. "What, Mulder?"

"Where ya goin'?"

Turning to look at him, Scully saw that Mulder's eyes were open
again, although no more than half way. He was still fighting the
medication, but not for much longer.

"I'm going to take a hot bath before I go to sleep. Okay?"

Mulder slowly blinked a couple of times before nodding. Scully
nodded back and headed for the bathroom. Just as her hand
touched the doorknob, Mulder spoke again.

" 'm sorry for givin' you a hard time. I know you're just tryin' ta
take care o' me."

She huffed a loud sigh before turning back to him. "You can be a
real pain in the ass sometimes, Mulder."

"I know," he replied, smirking. "I'll share my painkillers if ya
need some for your ass."

Scully couldn't suppress a tiny smirk of her own. "I'll save those
for you. You're a lot easier to handle when you're drugged."

Her smirk turned into a grin as Mulder snickered and snuggled
down into his pillow.

"Enjoy yer bath, Scully," he mumbled, eyes drooping shut once
more. "Don' stay in too long. Ya turn inna a pink raisin and have
ta get a new photo ID and name badge. 'Special Agen' Dana
Prune.' It just don' have the proper ring o' authority."

Stifling a chuckle that wanted to bubble out of her throat, Scully
watched her partner until his mouth dropped open to snore. The
sleeping arrangements might be less than ideal, but there was no
one she'd rather be snowbound with. Smiling, she retreated to the
bathroom and thoroughly enjoyed a very relaxing, steamy bath.
She did check to make sure she wasn't too wrinkled when she got
out, though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scully had been asleep for only a couple of hours before she
awoke to the sound of chattering teeth. The room was not only
cold and dark, but quiet. It took her a few moments to register
several facts. 1. Mulder was not in the bed. 2. The heater was
the cause of the silence. 3. It was Mulder's teeth chattering, not
hers. She popped her head out of the nest of blankets into the
frigid air and squinted at his shadow against the closed curtains.

"Why are you up instead of still in a drugged stupor, Mulder?"

There was the sound of a hand feebly slapping metal, then a deep
sigh. "You were hogging all the covers and the cold woke me up.
I think the heater has been called home to Jesus, Scully."

Snaking a hand out from under the covers, Scully turned on the
bedside lamp. Mulder stood in his shorts next to the silent wall
unit, blinking in the sudden glare and visibly shaking.

"Mulder, you're covered in goosebumps."

"Thanks for not noticing how the cold air has affected other parts
of my anatomy."

Scully ignored the comment and pointed to the dresser. "There
are extra blankets in the bottom drawer. Grab some and get back
in bed." She couldn't tell if Mulder waggled his eyebrows at her
or if he was just shivering harder.

Fishing the requested items out of the dresser drawer with one
hand, Mulder tossed them onto the bed. Scully spread them out
as fast as she could while Mulder limped back to his side of the
bed and crawled under the covers. She saw him wince as the
sheet dragged over his scrapes.

"Will you be able to go back to sleep?" she asked. "You look like
you're still in some pain."

"I guess the cold has me sober again. I'll probably be fine once I
warm up."

Without a word, Scully shimmied out from under the warm
blankets and dashed for the pill bottle on the dresser. Sprinting
to the bathroom, she returned with half a glass of water. Shoving
them both into Mulder's outstretched hand, she squirmed back
under the covers.

"Take two pills," she said, teeth chattering. "You need to get a
good night's sleep."

She was all set for an argument, so the empty glass being
returned to her was a nice surprise.

Setting the glass on the end table, Scully switched off the light
and burrowed back under the covers. Reaching across the few inches
of space between them, she rubbed Mulder's chilly, shivering arm.

Mulder snickered as the pain medication started to take effect
again. "You know," he said, "I'll bet that thing about being naked
in a sleeping bag with somebody else who's naked works just as
well under a mound of blankets."

"Uh huh." Scully didn't stop her firm caresses on his arm. In
fact, she scooted closer until she was lying against it, then moved
her hand to his chest. That didn't seem to be warming up, either.
"I don't think blankets qualify, but I'll let you know if it starts
to snow sleeping bags. Now close your eyes and concentrate on
getting warm."

"Oh, I'm warmin' up jus' fine, thank you." Mulder was back to
slurring his words. "How come I never get this kind of 'tention
'less 'm injured or sick?"

Scully grinned in the dark. "Because I like you best when you
can't fight back. Go to sleep now."

To her surprise, he did. With her hand still laying on his chest,
it didn't take long before she followed after him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Scully next awoke, she realized three things. 1. It was
almost light. 2. It was still cold. 3. She was lying on Mulder's
hand. It was wedged right between her thighs. Her upper thighs.
More like right against her crotch. And his fingers were twitching.

That was what woke her -- the feeling of something moving
against the most sensitive, throbbing, tingling portion of her
anatomy. She appeared to have rolled closer to Mulder's body
heat during the night and landed on the flexed fingers of his right
hand. He was still asleep, making little whistling noises through
his nose. She was now awake. Wide awake. And in something
of a dilemma.

She really needed to get off his hand. But she didn't want to wake
him. And his fingers were still twitching in his sleep. And his
thumb was rubbing in just the right spot. And it felt amazing.
Scully didn't think she could move away if the blankets caught on
fire.

Shifting just slightly, she began a gentle, downward grinding
motion with her hips. Those fingers were tickling in exactly the
right spot. Especially the thumb, which was wedged right up
against her swollen bundle of nerves. Her nipples were achingly
tight and rubbing against the inside of her pajama top with just the
right amount of friction.

<I'll stop in just a second. Just one more minute. I'll stop, I
have to stop.>

But her own body was conspiring against her, releasing
endorphins into her blood stream that weren't the least bit
interested in what her mind was saying. So she continued to
hump her sleeping partner's hand.

She didn't even stop when Mulder snuffled in his sleep and
moved. Because when he moved, his hand jerked. And when his
hand jerked, his thumb drove straight up. Right where Scully
needed it most.

Grinding and pulsing and swiveling as much as she could against
those long, twitching fingers, Scully lost all sense of right and
wrong. There was only now, and the sizzling sparks racing across
every nerve ending. Burying her face into the pillow right next to
Mulder's ear, she stifled her groans and blocked out all sensations
except the ones that centered between her thighs.

<... can't do this, can't, can't... shit. I did.>

Her orgasm was glorious. Slow, hot, melting the ache in her
breasts as it blazed through her body. Her hips continued to pulse
for a few moments, drawing out the sweet satisfaction that flushed
her damp skin. Picking her face up out of the smashed pillow,
Scully opened her eyes, blinking the drooping lids until her gaze
settled on the sleeping face of her partner.

Realization set in with a thud. Scully gasped and leapt out from
under the blankets. Standing in the frigid room, sweat cooling on
her over-heated skin, the Catholic guilt kicked in.

But guilt only lasts so long, when your carnal side has a say.

<Wait. Why does he even have to find out? If I don't tell him,
he'll never know what happened. He didn't wake up, so he didn't
see what I was doing. I just have to keep him from suspecting that
something is wrong. It can be my secret.>

Climbing gingerly back into the bed, Scully stretched out on her
side and laid as stiff as a board, staring at Mulder's sleeping
face. The room brightened as morning announced its arrival with
sound of dripping eaves and the glow of watery sunshine. The
debate inside her head continued undiminished, until she thought
she was going to need a referee to settle the argument.

Whether or not to tell Mulder became a moot point the minute his
eyes opened to see her lying next to him, staring. He gave her a
muzzy smile and brought his hand up to rub the sleep from his
face. Mulder frowned. Scully watched in fascinated horror as he
sniffed his hand, then his arm. Then sniffed again. When he
looked at her with a question in his eyes, she could only hope that
the words "I fucked your hand while you were sleeping!" weren't
written all over her face.

"My skin smells funny."

"Umm, it's probably just the antiseptic residue from when they
cleaned up your arm at the hospital. That's all. Better get up
now. We've still got a long drive ahead of us."

Brow still indented with puzzlement, Mulder nodded. Scully
noticed that sitting up in the bed wasn't quite as big a struggle
for him as it had been the previous night. He seemed to be alert,
if not awake, and his scrapes still looked raw, but not inflamed.
She just hoped he wasn't aware enough to realize that the odd smell
was on the wrong arm to be from antiseptic. Scully decided that
bustling to pack and leave would be a good distraction.

They agreed to find somewhere else to eat once they were on the
road. A peek outside the window showed that the sudden snow
was disappearing as fast as it had arrived. The morning sun beat
down with cheery intensity, and already there were large patches
of nothing but soggy earth and gravel. If the roads were clearing
as fast, they would be home somewhere between lunch and
supper.

Scully kept up a steady pace of gathering the few items they'd
unpacked. After her lecture of the previous night, she couldn't
very well tell Mulder to wash his arm. So she worked to get them
out of the room as fast as possible before the pieces snapped
together in his brain and identified the smell.

They were doing just fine until the time came to put a shirt on him.
Scully helped him to ease the T-shirt sleeve over his left arm and
was in the process of refastening his sling when Mulder slid his
right arm through the other sleeve -- and brought it up to his nose.

She froze. "Uh, we'd better... get moving. I'm hungry. Aren't
you?"

<Articulate, urbane, and total nonsense. Good job, Dana.>

The tell-him/don't-tell-him debate recommenced. Scully knew he'd
see right through any falsehood she tried to utter, but she couldn't
come down on either side of the fence. And time was running out.

She cringed as Mulder sniffed, hard. "Are you sure?"

<It's now or never. Show what kind of backbone you've got.>

Drawing herself up to her full height, Scully looked her partner
dead in the eye.

"Mulder, would I lie to you?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE END

Author's babbling: Odd little bit of nonsense, isn't it? I think
I'm going to blame cratkinson. Her story, "Nocturnal Admissions,"
was the inspiration for this one. It made me wonder what would
happen if Scully were in a similar situation. If you haven't read
cratkinson's story, you really need to treat yourself right away.
Then tell her how good it is so she'll write some more like that.

Feedback on this story, or any of my other stories, or even stories
by another author, is fawned over and stroked to tatters at
mimic117@yahoo.com.

Feel free to visit my other fics at
mimic117.freeservers.com/index.html.