Silent Touches
by Scullysfan
Classification: VR
Rating: PG
Distribution: Do not archive at Gossamer. Anyone else, please
ask me first. Thanks. : )
Disclaimer: The characters of Mulder and Scully are the
property of Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. They are not
mine and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's notes at the end.
Feedback: Any and all comments longed for at
slong001@midsouth.rr.com
For Marguerite, Blueswirl, and Meredith
~~~~~~~~~~~
The police station was a cacophany of noise. Trapped there
for the better part of three hours while he and his partner
made statements, filled out reports, and signed, initialed and
dated what had to be every damn piece of paper in the
building, Mulder had heard far more than he'd ever wanted.
A jumble of voices in a variety of languages made the West
Precinct sound like a modern-day Tower of Babel. Ringing
phones, the scrape of creaking wooden chairs against a
peeling cement floor, the muted tapping of computer keys.
Somewhere behind closed doors, cells clanged shut and the
nauseating sound of retching threatened to disturb the
digestion of his hastily consumed lunch.
Scully's clicking heels were lost in the racket as she
approached, but Mulder recognized the gentle touch of her
hand on his back. Turning, he found himself staring into her
weary face, her shoulders sagging and her hair no longer as
smooth and carefully arranged as it had been at the start of
the day.
She opened her mouth to speak, but a red-faced, portly
sergeant barking orders as he passed by cut her short.
Bowing her head, she shook it ruefully as Mulder chuckled
softly. When she again met his gaze, he spoke, though not
with his voice -- instead trusting her Mulder-reading skills.
Inclining his head toward the door and with a tired waggle of
his eyebrows, he reached out to usher her along with him as
they left the clamorous racket behind.
--
Still hungry for the silence absent from their day, not a word
passed between them on the drive to Scully's apartment. They
were insulated from the bustle of the busy streets, enclosed
in the heavy quietness of the car's soft gray leather.
The radio remained silent in unstated mutual consent. He much
preferred the melody of her respiration as she sat next to him,
her head resting against the back of the seat, eyes closed
against the late afternoon sun glaring in her face. Unwilling to
interrupt her calm respite with unexpected words, Mulder
slowly took his right hand from the steering wheel and
reaching over, lightly skimmed the pads of his fingers over the
satiny smoothness of her hand nearest him.
A soft smile played on her lips, and she rolled her head to
face him, her eyes remaining shut as the hand he caressed so
gently turned over to accept the warm clasp of his. Joined by
flesh and bone, they continued home in the tranquility of their
own making.
--
He'd barely shut her door behind him, the metallic thud of the
deadbolt lock sliding home loudly in the hushed apartment,
when she kicked her shoes in the direction of the couch.
Unbuttoning and shrugging off her jacket, she disappeared
back into the inner sanctum of her apartment.
They'd experienced enough days like this one for Mulder to
know exactly where she was going -- it had become a ritual
for them, albeit a sporadically practiced one.
Early in their partnership, Scully's love of bubble baths had
been filed away in the section of his mind devoted solely to
her. Of course, Mulder thought wryly as he headed into the
kitchen, it was also in the X-Files thanks to her encounter
with Eugene Victor Tooms.
Shaking his head to dislodge memories he had no intention of
dwelling on tonight, he gulped orange juice from the carton
she kept just for him, choosing instead to recall the early days
of their more =personal= partnership.
Careful observation had led him to deduce the rationale
behind her copious use of bubble builders. The more bubbles
in the tub, the more relaxed she was, until her body was
immersed up to her jaw, the curves and planes worshiped by
his hands hidden from his searching eyes. He had begun to
worry he would lose her underneath all those softly popping
creations of soap and water, so to allay his fears, he had
taken to joining her. Feeling somewhat silly at first, the
soothing hot water and Scully's soap-slickened body pressed
against his had quickly convinced him of a bubble bath's
merits.
Now, he realized as he made his way down the hallway, tugging
his tie off and toeing one foot after the other from shoes too
expensive to be so smellyÖnow he appreciated the occasions
she invited him into her sanctuary of porcelain and chrome,
steam and suds. Whether their bathing was the electric
prelude to the joining of his flesh to hers or the healing
therapy their tired, aching bodies begged for, it was a time
spent in relative silence. Only the lap of water against the
sides of the tub and contented exhalations spoke to them.
Tonight he would speak to her and she to him with the timeless
language of touch.
--
She had been busy while he was draining her orange juice
supply.
Flickering candles releasing the scent of lilacs lined the
windowsill and the shelf above her tub. Water spilled from
the faucet and disappeared underneath a thick layer of foam,
the bubbles casting a purplish hue. She was using the freesia
bubble bath, he realized. Aromas meant to relax them, soothe
and gentle their tired bodies.
If his olfactory senses had just been stroked to a heightened
awareness, the picture Scully presented would make him
forever grateful for his vision.
Beautiful no matter the lighting, her naked body glowed in the
darkened room -- light and shadows dueling for prominance as
the flames danced over her creamy, freckle-dusted skin. She
stood at the sink, gathering and pinning her hair into a
haphazard explosion of red atop her head. The movements
arched her back, her breasts thrust forward.
His gaze swept silently over her, lingering here and there on
shadowed curves and then settling on her reflection smiling at
him from the mirror.
Shoving one last bobby pin into the perilously piled mass of
hair, she turned and crossed the room. She looked over her
shoulder at him, lifting her eyebrows even as her eyes raked
over his half-dressed form. As clearly as if she had spoken
the words, Scully called for him to come join her.
Her mute beckoning spurred him to action, and he moved
quickly, stripping off the rest of his clothes as she stepped
into the tub. Sinking into the water, a breathy sigh escaped
as her eyelids fluttered shut. She leaned back, sliding further
down and allowing her legs to float from the bottom of the
tub until her toes peeked through the bubbles.
Watching her -- always watching her -- he bent down to turn
off the running water and stopped to run a finger lightly over
the bottom of one foot. He grinned when she jerked away
from his touch, causing water to splash onto the tiled floor.
She might have been sharing her body with him for months,
but he'd discovered that the deal didn't include her feet.
She sat up, looking at him with a mock glare, and scooted
forward. One small hand broke through the bubbles, and she
crooked her finger at him in silent invitation.
Anxious to feel his knotted muscles unravel beneath the heated
water, he climbed carefully into the bathtub. His long legs
settled themselves on either side of hers as he manuevered
between the hard surface of the tub and her soft, pliable
body.
At last cocooned in a bed of liquidy bubbles, he pulled her
back until she rested almost bonelessly against his chest.
Sliding his hands down her arms until their searching fingers
found each other, he crossed their arms across her belly,
enfolding her in his strong embrace. Her head tipped back
and nestled in the curve where shoulder met neck, turned so
his chin rested against her forehead.
Minutes ticked by uncounted as they allowed this watery
utopia to lull them into a blissful doze. Not a sound shattered
the peace surrounding them in this realm where only they
existed. The realm of touch -- the place where skin meeting
skin, not lightly uttered words, is assurance of tangibility.
All too soon, cooling water and dissipating suds forced their
limbs into movement as each took a thick washcloth from the
stack on the shelf and began to wash away the grime of a long
day.
Finishing before she did, Mulder lathered the cloth again and
moving in languid circles, washed her back. A soft groan came
from her as her head fell forward, her chin resting on her
chest. His gentle laving flowed seamlessly into hushed praise
of her body.
Goosebumps had begun popping up on her rapidly cooling skin
before he realized she'd fallen asleep under his touch.
Holding onto her tightly with one arm, he stretched the other
forward until he could pluck the stopper from the drain.
The gurgling water was intrusion enough to stir her awake,
and with a sleepy glance over her shoulder, she rose, water
streaming down her body. Holding onto his proffered hand,
she stepped gingerly over the side of the tub and onto the
woven bath mat. He followed her as she grabbed them each
a plush white towel. Had they possessed more energy, they
might have dried each other, lavishing attention on those areas
most responsive, but a bone-deep weariness left them merely
skimming the soft fabric over their skin.
Scully took the towels and dropped them on top of the
clothesbasket as she left the room, with him remaining behind
long enough to extinguish the burning candles.
Padding into the darkened room, he found her already huddled
on her side under the heavy bedcovers. He slipped in beside
her quickly, trying to keep the cooler air from stealing the
warmth her small body was giving off. Hearing her deep, even
breathing, he rolled over to set the alarm, cursing the loud
beeps as each button calling for a 6:00 a.m. wake-up was
pushed.
With the end of their peaceful silence arranged, Mulder
burrowed back under the covers. Curling himself around her
frame until they were pressed together from their heads to
her toes, he joined her in a sleep-filled tranquility.
A tranquility where the only thing they heard was the music of
touch.
END
~~~~~~
Author's notes: Yes, it's more stalking fic. This was first
only supposed to be for Marguerite, but halfway through it,
I realized I had a bit of a dual theme going on and being the
resourceful person I am, decided to stalk three writers with
one fic. (Yes, I know it could also be considered laziness, but
why be negative? )
Getting as much use out of this story as possible, it's also for
Mel, who wanted bubble bath fic.
Enormous thanks to Laney for editing and catching all kinds of
problems despite unusual circumstances. ; )
Feedback: Any and all comments longed for at
slong001@midsouth.rr.com
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