A Familiar Heart
Chapter Eleven


"Would you please wipe that look off your face?"

She didn't meet his gaze as she whispered the
plea, keeping her head slightly turned to where
Charlie and Ellen glided in perfect sync next to
them.  Practice, indeed.  Charlie looked as if he
was born to dance, while Mulder felt like his legs
were the two limp appendages of the Scarecrow in
the Wizard of Oz.  Of course, his very attractive
dance partner most probably had a great deal to do
with his dance infirmity.

"What look?" he asked, in all innocence.

Her eyes came back to his face, and her words were
dry.  "Mulder, Christmas was two days ago, and I'm
not a pony."

He laughed, catching Charlie's attention, and
Scully's annoyance; the hand on his shoulder
pinched him through the sweater.  He flushed,
giving Charlie a grin.  Before Charlie could say
anything, Ellen had diverted his face back to her
with a firm hand.

Lowering his head, Mulder murmured, "Funny you
should say that."  His hand crept up her back,
feeling the ridges of her spine through her thin
blouse.  "Because I've always wanted a pony, but
that was years ago, and now, I'd settle for -"

"Mulder, shut up," she warned.

But he ignored her, continuing, "A little spitfire
who can break *me* to bridle."  His grin faded
into a pointed stare at her lips.

Her lashes drooped, and she mirrored his study of
her mouth for a moment.  Just when he was an
instant away from giving them both a brilliant,
much needed kiss, she looked up, her cheeks pink.

"Mulder, this is not a good idea."

He knew she wasn't speaking of the dancing.  He
could have pursued the train of his amorous
thoughts, but he backed off, sensing the time had
come for a tactical retreat.  "I know.  I never
was all that good at dancing.  If I step on your
toes, forgive me."  He smiled with an easy show of
friendship offered, and was gratified to see her
tense face soften into a grin.

"You're something, you know that?"

"As long as I'm not an ottoman, that's okay."  He
saw his soft statement harken the memory of their
train station conversation; did she still consider
him an enemy?

Her hair fell over one eye as she cocked her head,
her voice lowering to a husky purr.  "I'd say
you've moved up to sofa status."



His own words echoed in his head, and pure joy
filled his chest.  At the blossoming of his smile,
she narrowed her gaze in warning, and he relented,
forcing his face to adopt a calm mien.  From the
corner of his eye, he saw Melissa and Frohike
descend the stairs and knew their bubble was about
to be popped.  One last chance to encroach, and he
took it.

His own eyes heavy-lidded, he bent to her ear and
whispered, "Have I ever told you how much I lov -
*like* beds?"  Mouth open, he lingered over the
shell of her ear, the silky wisps of her hair
tickling his lips as he waited for a reply. *If*
there was one forthcoming; he'd almost blown the
whole shebang with the wrong word, one he was sure
she wasn't ready to hear.  Sighing, he began to
pull away after a second or two, until he felt her
warm breath caress the underside of his jaw.

"So do I."

Mesmerized by her answer, he stopped moving,
pulling back to search her face.  For the first
time, she was fully open to him, her eyes glowing
in the light from the fireplace with simple
acceptance.  Her lips broke into a soft smile and
she took a deep breath, in preparation for another
profound statement, he just knew it.

"Hey - what is this?  No hanky-panky on the dance
floor!"

Frohike's laughing interruption broke them apart,
and Mulder flashed the man an irritated glance. 
It was for naught though, as he realized Frohike's
statement had been directed at Charlie and Ellen,
who still lingered over a kiss at the edge of the
rug.  Mulder looked at Scully, who had the same
bewildered expression he felt on his face. 
Together, they grinned, and he reached for her
hand.  She let it slide easily into his, then kept
the clasp a bit hidden between them.

He understood.  And he would take anything he
could get.


**********


Dana Scully was having a good time.

It amazed her, really.  Swinging in Mulder's arms,
laughing at she was passed from one partner to
another, Melissa's and Ellen's giggles
complimenting hers until the room was filled with
feminine laughter and masculine preening.  The
slow tunes of the previous hour had given way to
an all-dance program, and the music was bouncy and
carefree.

She felt as if her body was boneless.  Whirling
and dipping, her feet having no trouble keeping up
with some of Frohike's very capable dance moves -
Mulder let him take the lead on the more involved
steps, lagging back to watch with admiring eyes
that she knew followed her every move.  Once or
twice, she faltered a bit, her ankle still a bit
sore; Frohike was attentive, slowing down at those
moments.

Mulder, on the other hand, clenched his jaw and
jerked as if ready to swoop down in a rescue, his
arms crossed at every small grimace of fleeting
pain she let show.  With a nod, she told him she
was fine; with a raised brow, she threatened
bodily harm should he make a big deal of it.  At
that, he smiled, a big show of teeth as he dropped
his chin and kicked at the rug.

Seemed they were becoming more attuned with each
other, with every moment that passed.  Their
unspoken communication pleased her, but it also
scared the hell out of her.  Could he read *all*
her thoughts?

"You're a good dancer, Dana." Frohike's statement
pulled her gaze from Mulder's face.  He whirled
her around Charlie and Ellen to the far side of
the room, where he dropped his voice to a low
murmur.  "I just want to thank you."

"For what?" She stole a glance at Mulder, who
looked ready to storm across the room.  She didn't
feel threatened by Melvin's isolation of her from
the group, but Mulder apparently had other ideas. 
"Mr. Frohike, I think we'd better..."

"Just Frohike, Dana," he corrected her.

Jesus, another one with a preference for last
names only?  Had there been a change to the US
Constitution while she was gone?  She could just
see it now, in stark black and white: By law, one
must now address familiars by last names only. 
The thought broke her concentration, and she
grinned, which made Mulder's face become stormy.

"Uh, Frohike, I think we'd better move back." Her
eyes darted to Mulder, and Frohike blushed, seeing
the way the wind blew at last.

"I'm sorry, Dana," he stuttered, "I - I didn't
mean anything by this, you know."

"I know you didn't," she replied, placating his
sudden attack of nerves.  "I take it you have
something to say about my sister?"

Catching sight of Mulder's approach, he quickly
blustered, "I just want to say that I respect her
and like her very much.  Thank you for not saying
anything -" He broke off, relinquishing his hold
on her.  "Mulder.  Just in time.  I think I need a
drink." He moved away, joining Melissa, who'd been
upstairs checking on her children.

"Little twerp," Mulder growled, watching his
departure, his narrowed eyes seeming to throw
poison darts at Melissa's friend.

"Stop it," Scully said, putting a hand on his arm. 
Mulder's jealousy, while putting a tingle on her
tongue, was fierce and unwarranted.  "He wanted to
talk to me about Melissa.  And you have no
business scaring him like that."

Mulder turned to face her, hands on hips.  "I
don't?" Confusion clouded his face.  "Just what
the hell are we doing here, Scully?" he whispered.

Oh, this was going too far, too fast.  Then again,
she already had carnal knowledge of the man - just
how much further could they possibly go?

"We're dancing," she said slowly, muting her
anger.  "At least that's what I thought."

He pursed his lips and hung his head, letting out
a big sigh.  "I'm sorry, Scully.  I'm just...
sorry."  Without another word, he walked to the
kitchen.

She was so confused, she didn't know what end was
up anymore.  Wrapping her arms around her waist,
she stood apart, watching Mulder disappear through
the kitchen door.  Charlie and Ellen, too caught
up in one another to notice the sudden discord,
kept right on dancing.  Scully turned her
attention to the Christmas tree, avoiding Melissa
and Frohike's concerned looks.  But she knew it
was only a matter of time, and her intuition paid
off, as she felt a soft touch at her elbow.

"Dana?"

Melissa stood beside her, and Scully felt the
words bubble up, no longer able to keep her
riotous emotions inside.  "He wants something from
me, Missy.  And I don't know if I'm ready to give
in to him."  She laughed, a mirthless breath that
was shaky.  "I've only known him a few days. 
Isn't that ridiculous?"

"No."

Scully looked at her sister, who stood with a
small smile, as if indulging a child.  "What?"

"You heard me.  It's obvious to everyone in this
room that you and Mulder... well, I'm not about to
ask you for details.  But that man has stirred
something in you, Dana.  The question is - why are
you fighting him so?"

A spate of tears burned her eyes.  Melissa, like
the rest of her family, could never be told the
whole story.  But it no longer mattered, anyway. 
She and Mulder were walking into new territory,
and it frightened her more than the anonymous lure
of sex.  "I don't know.  He's... he's so intense."

"And you've always been so cool, so together. 
Would it be so very bad to just let go?"

Let go.  She'd done that once, with almost
disastrous results.  Scully sniffed, another
chuckled bursting forth, this one a bit more
genuine.  "Oh, Missy, if you only knew."

"I think I already do," Melissa murmured, with the
experience of a woman once pulled under by desire. 
"Melvin isn't Rob, and he never will be.  I had
that once, Dana - that consuming passion that you
find with the one perfect person.  It's something
I'll never forget.  But that's not what I need
anymore.  But you?  Dana, if anyone *ever* needed
to swept off her feet, it's you."

Scully felt a hot tide of color creep up her
cheeks.  "Am I so very rigid, Missy?"

Melissa brushed a thumb over her sister's damp
cheek.  "No... well, maybe.  But in a good way."
She smiled at Dana's crestfallen face.  "You've
been in limbo for years, Dana.  Don't you think
it's time you start to live again?"

Scully didn't begrudge her sister her opinions. 
She *was* rather cool and logical, and something
as radical and unpredictable as falling in love
had never part of her agenda.  Damn, she'd even
had to force herself make the decision to give men
a try back in the car before she'd met Mulder. 
Just like everything she did in life, it was
planned and thought out, never done spontaneously. 
And just like most plans, it never did fall into
place.

Melissa was right.  Time to live again - to deal
with the emotional rollercoaster that came with
love.  Whether good or bad, she could do it.

"Okay then," she said, stepping into her sister's
arms to hug her tight.  "How do I do that?"

Missy squeezed her back, then pulled away, her
eyes wide and determined.  "You can start by
talking to that man. *Really* talking.  None of
this conversation about weather and politics."

"Got it." Scully moved away, then paused, looking
back.  "I like Melvin, Missy.  He's a good man."

"I wouldn't have him in this house if he weren't,
Dana."

"Just how old is he, anyway?"

Missy bit her lip, hesitating.  "Forty-two." Her
grimace was apprehensive.  "Too old?"

Scully inwardly sighed with relief.  At least
Melvin wasn't old enough to be Missy's father. 
"No, not at all.  I'd say he's... seasoned."

"Mmm... seasoned.  I'll have to remember that -
that's a good word to use with Mom."

"Speaking of - " She trailed off, wondering when
exactly Melissa would introduce her new friend to
the family.

"The Rehearsal Supper.  I think it's time the
parents met Mr. Frohike."  Melissa waved her hand
in the direction of the kitchen.  "Now, get
going!"

Scully took a deep breath, straightened her
shoulders, and headed for the kitchen.  She was so
easy to read.

By everyone but Mulder, it seemed.


**********


"I just wanted to tell you that I wasn't coming on
to Dana."

Mulder huddled in the cold of the back porch,
hands in his pockets.  He'd listened to Frohike's
profuse apologies for five minutes now, and any
attempt to get a word in edgewise was futile. 
Finally, he smiled, breaking in to say, "I should
apologize to you, Frohike.  My behavior was
irrational and rude.  I can see how you look at
Melissa.  I don't think I have anything to worry
about."

At last, Frohike seemed satisfied.  He looked over
his shoulder, distracted by movement in the
kitchen, and cleared his throat.  "Uh, yeah. 
Well, guess I should be getting back in.  You
coming?"

"In a minute."  He saw Frohike move away, and felt
the heat of the house spring forth from the door. 
It didn't stop, however, and he turned, knowing he
should close the open door before the kitchen got
too cold.

The small outline in the door made him freeze.  He
looked at her for a moment, then turned back to
watch the moon hover over the horizon.  "Party's
over?"

Cool.  Be cool, he admonished himself.  He'd gone
too far, too fast.  She had every right to
distance herself from him.  His jealousy was not
something he had a right to feel.  They were
friends, and though he saw otherwise in the
fleeting moments they danced, he knew better than
to hope for more at this early stage.

"Not quite," she answered.  He felt more than saw
her come to stand beside him.  "It's cold, Mulder. 
What are you doing out here?"

He gave her a self-deprecating smile.  "Cooling my
ardor?"

The soft, smooth voice of Nat King Cole drifted
from the open door.



"Did it work?"

Staring straight ahead, he sighed, knowing they
were back to friendship.  Her voice held no trace
of interest beyond mere curiosity.  He looked down
at his feet, unable to do more than mutter, "Yeah. 
Look, Scully, I'm sorry -" He stopped, his ears
picking up her soft reply a second too late. 
"What did you say?"

Her face was pale in the moonlight, but her eyes
were bright and filled with humor.  "I said... too
bad."

One hand crept out from his pants pocket to settle
over his heart.  He almost staggered, closing his
eyes to mutter, "You're gonna kill me yet,
Scully."



Slim fingers closed over his, pulling his hand
away.  "Well, if a knock on the head didn't do you
in, I don't see how I could ever -"



The rest of her words were lost in his kiss.  She
tasted like heady, rich wine and the cool night
air.  He couldn't help himself; his arms went
around her and his mouth gently pressed hers open. 
A moment of sanity amidst his growing passion for
her made him slow down, and he drank deeply,
pulling her close.  Her head fell back against his
shoulder, and her free hand came up to skitter
across his exposed nape, making him shiver.



God, she was perfect.  Not timid at all, returning
his kiss with little moans and sighs that shot
like an arrow to his groin.  Settle down, he
wanted to tell his body.  She wouldn't like it at
all.  But instead of recoiling, she purred like a
kitten, her belly rubbing against him.  He
couldn't stand it, it was too much.  Gasping, he
pulled his mouth from hers to mutter, "Jesus,
Scully.  Stop that."

"Stop what?"  Her mouth skimmed his jaw, and her
body cradled his erection.  It was electric and
frustrating at the same time.  Just a few more
minutes, he thought.

She was a good girl, and he had no business
seducing her.  It was bad enough he'd not wooed
her like a proper gentleman should.  Hell, he'd
made love to her without thought to the
consequences -



Shit.  His heart tripped, remembering his dream of
a couple of hours ago.  Melissa's soft murmurs to
her child, the hazy image of Scully standing
before him, her hands laid upon that slightly
rounded belly.

It took all his willpower to push her away.  He
panted, forcing his lungs to take in air as he
studied her swollen mouth and heavy-lidded eyes. 
Cradling her head in his hands, he broke the
spell, his voice hoarse as he asked, "Scully?"

Blinking, she brought her lashes up.  "Yes?"  She
was a picture of soft confusion, and it pained him
to wake her fully.

"C'mon." Taking her hand, he pulled her to the
kitchen door.

"Where are we going?"

To the nearest chapel, he wanted to say.  Then
to the nearest bed, he wanted to shout to the
heavens with joy.  His recent discovery had
given him all he desired, and no way could she
protest.  Instead, he gave in to the urge to kiss
her again, this time a short, bittersweet kiss
that made her melt against him.

Aw, hell.  He may as well go for broke.  Damn the
torpedoes, full speed ahead.

"We're going find a Justice of the Peace."


End Chapter Eleven

    Source: geocities.com/mish_rose/Heart