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Title:  "Never"
Author:  Allison Kinney
Feedback to:  Akinney238@aol.com
Summary:  No clever summary.  Smut biscuit, pure and simple.
Rating:  NC-17
Spoilers:  Vague for "Pine Bluff Variant" and  "Arcadia"
Distribution:  Gossamer please.  If anyone else wants it I'd very much
appreciate a little note telling me why and where.
Disclaimer:  Never had 'em, never will.  They don't much resemble certain
characters from a certain show in this story anyway.  Joe belongs to me.
Special thanks to Pufferdeux for the encouragement and the beta.  Here goes
nothin' sister.

For my Tallahassee lassie and The Unemployed.  Author's notes at the end.

***

It has been nearly three months since I arrived at work to find a note on
The office door instructing me to meet with Skinner ASAP.  Once I arrived
 in his office he told me that Mulder had gone undercover again.  After the near
disaster with the New Spartans last year Skinner had decided to take no
chances and simply tell me at the start that he was gone.  Mulder was unable 
to contact me and I should not try to contact him.

Skinner stonewalled my questions that morning and every day since.  Mulder
Was simply gone and, despite my misgivings for him, I made no attempt to find
him.  Until I received a phone call at 1:30 in the morning.  No one answered 
when
I said hello but I could hear music in the background and laughter, like whoever
it was had called from a bar.  After my second hello went unanswered I realized
who it was and I said nothing.

Almost five minutes of nothing went by before he quietly hung up.  Two weeks
later the phone rang again in the middle of the night but the caller hung up
after just a few seconds.  The aching loneliness I felt then still hasn't
abated.  With every subsequent silent night the ache has grown a little 
stronger.

I'm worried about him.  I've felt anxious since the moment Skinner told me he
was gone.  With each passing day the feeling of apprehension has increased.
Mulder would probably be gratified to know that I'm willing to admit, if only
to myself, that I have an uneasy feeling something is wrong.  I can't ignore it
anymore.  Call it a hunch, call it intuition, call it silly - something is
wrong and I can no longer just stand by waiting for Mulder to turn up again.

Late last night I showed up at the Lone Gunmen's.  "Do you know where he is?"
Frohike asked as he ushered me inside.  I shook my head.  The grim set of his
jaw told me that they didn't either.

They hacked into Eastern Bell and traced back the phone call to Denny's Beer
Garden in Martin's Ferry, Ohio.  The second call had come from a payphone in
the nearby town of St. Clairsville. Which is why I'm currently sitting in a
rented sedan outside Denny's Beer Garden watching the clientele arrive for
Thursday night's festivities.  The crowd is mostly redneck, men in tight
Wranglers and women with hair teased so high they look like tropical fish under
the blinking fluorescent beer signs in the front window.

In over five hours spent in the cold cab of this car, drinking tepid coffee, I
haven't seen Mulder.  He called on a Saturday night, maybe he only comes
here on the weekend.  Maybe he only came here that single night.  I decide to
pack it in and come back tomorrow.  Tomorrow I'll go in there, but first I have
to find myself the proper attire.

***

I've been nursing the same beer for nearly an hour, it's flat now but I still
turn down the offer of a new one from the persistent gentlemen on my left.
Finally he gives up and wanders over to one of the pool tables to chat with the
buddies that put him up to hitting on me.  I decide to visit the restroom and
stand up, doing my best not to self-consciously pull my skirt down.

When I leave the bathroom one of Romeo's friends is stationed outside the door
with a beer in one hand and a pool cue in the other.

"You shoot stick?" he asks by way of introduction.

"Not in years," I tell him, slipping past him to try and go back to the bar.
What am I doing here?  In these clothes, with this hair and this makeup?  I
feel cheap and fake and I wonder how other people can live like this.

"Come on, who are you waiting for?"  Romeo joins his friend in following me
back to the bar.

"Are these guys bothering you?"  I look over to see a dark haired lady
wrinkling her nose at the men behind me.

"No," I answer her.  "I'm just waiting for a friend," I tell my two pursuers.
"Otherwise I'd be delighted to play with y'all."  Without thinking about it I
slide into a Southern accent.

"What, you can't play pool and watch the door at the same time?  What's your
girlfriend's name?  She can play too."

"I think that was a polite 'no' boys," my new friend says and I give her a
grateful smile.  I might as well start playing the helpless female because
no-nonsense does not match my clothes.  "What's your name?" she asks pushing
three drinks together so that she can carry them.

"Julie," I tell her; the first name that comes to mind.

"Amy," she says and gives me a wide smile before nodding towards the tables
behind her.  "Why don't you come sit over at our table while you wait? You're
liable to get eaten alive out here by your lonesome."

"Thanks."  This time I really am grateful.  A lone female in a bar certainly
does draw attention.  A group of women will allow me to blend in better, not
that I really think I'll meet anyone here I know.  Not even Mulder.  I pick up
my flat beer and follow her into the back corner where I'm introduced to Jeanie
and Carol who greet me warmly and accept the vague answer I give them about
why I'm here alone.

An hour later my sides are aching with laughter.  Amy is a natural storyteller
with a flair for the dramatic.  She's currently telling us about an ex-boyfriend 
she had completely forgotten about until the FBI called looking for him.  For 
a few moments I forget about being Scully, about Mulder, about dangerous 
assignments and just revel in the moment and the tale of 'Crazy Carl'.

I'm wiping carefully under my eyes, trying not to smear my mascara, when I
See him.

He's sitting two tables away with three other men, all of them in grimy
t-shirts and jeans.  His hair is longer and he's tan as if he's been working
outside.  He must sense my gaze because he glances over in my direction and
then does a double take.  For a brief moment our eyes meet and his widen
slightly in surprise.

I look back to Amy just as Jeanie and Carol erupt into another round of
laughter.  I laugh along with them, acutely aware of Mulder sitting not ten
feet away.  How long has he been here?  Why didn't I see him come in?  My
heart is thudding in my chest, it hurts, and I realize that I should leave.  I 
should
go now before I endanger him.  He was never in trouble - it was me.  I just
wanted to see him, to know that he was alright.

I try my best to keep my gaze focused on Amy, not on  the table behind her,
But I still find myself looking over every few minutes.  Finally we hit a lull
In the conversation and I look down, tracing patterns on the tabletop with the
condensation on the edge of my glass.

"I don't think my friend is showing up," I tell them, preparing myself for
departure and hoping like hell that Mulder gets up and follows me into the
parking lot.  To what end? I ask myself.  What do you want him to say?  Nice
skirt?

"Ladies, you have some admirers."  A waitress sets a bottle of beer in front
of each of us.  Amy whirls around and the man sitting next to Mulder raises his
bottle in our direction.  He looks to be in his 40's with curly blond hair. He
leans to Mulder and says something that makes Mulder smile.  I look away, my
lungs squeezing the breath out of me.  Jeanie begins to giggle and Carol elbows
me, leaning closer to whisper slyly, "They're cute!"

The men confer amongst themselves for a few minutes, casting glances at us.
Finally they get up and come over to our table.  I keep my eyes fixed on the
label in front of me, suddenly fascinated with Budweiser's intricate border.

"What does a beer buy a man these days?" Mulder's blond friend asks.  Amy
looks up at him coyly and coos, "Depends on what you're in the market for.  My
going rate is a 'thank you'."

"Jerry," he says, extending his hand to Amy.  "I think it's worth a 'thank you,
Jerry', at the very least."

"Thank you, Jerry," Carol and Jeanie chorus and I shake my head slightly.
Mating dances, every culture has them, and I'm beginning to see the value of
the arranged marriage.  How does anyone ever find anyone doing it this way?

There is a lull and I realize that Jerry is looking at me, noticing my
ingratitude.  I decide that I'll just pretend to be shy so I bite my bottom
lip and look up shyly.  "Thank you, Jerry."  I say it so softly I doubt he can
hear it over the noise of the jukebox in the corner but Jerry nods his approval
and pulls a chair over from the next table, seating himself between Amy and
myself.   I dare a glance at Mulder but he's smiling at Jeanie.

How many other weekends has Mulder spent in this bar chatting up the ladies?
Why does it hurt to think about it?

Jerry places one hand on my knee and the other on Amy's, giving us both a
squeeze.  I give him a vacuous smile.  "Now tell me your names," he
instructs and we all do.  The shorter dark haired man standing behind Jerry 
introduces
himself as Ron and sidles up to Carol, his hands on her shoulders as he
leans over to take in the view straight down her shirt.  Carol obviously finds
this flattering and I have to stifle the urge to frown at her.  There isn't 
enough
room for him to draw up a chair so Carol gladly obliges him, standing up so
he can sit down and then she sits on his lap.  Mulder is still smiling at
Jeanie and I stand up.   His attention shifts to me and the smile widens as he
Takes in the tight shirt, short skirt and stacked heels I'm wearing.  Eat your
Heart out, Mulder.  You'll never see me dressed like this again.  I guarantee 
it.

"You can have my chair," I drawl.  "I was just about to leave."  His hand
reaches out to hold my upper arm.  "Don't go," he says.  I know that voice,
I know those eyes, I know his touch.  Any doubts that this might not really be
Mulder are gone.

The fourth man with Mulder has sandy colored hair pulled back in a pony
tail.  "Surely you don't have to work tomorrow," he tells me.  "It's Friday.  
Stay
and talk to us.  We're nice guys."  I must have a dubious look because he
flashes me a smile.  "Really, we are.  I'm Gil, this is Jerry, Ron and Joe."  
Mulder
nods at me, his hand sliding down my arm to close loosely around my wrist.

"What's your name?" Mulder/Joe asks me.

"Julie," I tell him and wonder if he had the same momentary doubts I did.
Maybe he doesn't realize it's me.  Maybe he wonders if this is just some
tramp who bears a remarkable resemblance to his strait-laced partner.

"Julie," he repeats the name back at me, rolling the name experimentally and
I know he knows it's me.  I remember the time we posed as husband and wife,
how odd it felt to have him call me Laura.  At least this time I got to pick my
own name.

Gil hunkers down next to Jeanie's chair and she gives another giggle.  I
wonder if she realizes how inane she sounds.  Maybe she doesn't care.  She 
agrees
to dance with him and they make their way over to the couples groping and
swaying in front of the jukebox.  Mulder sits down in her vacated chair.

"So, Julie," he draws the name out in a tease as his eyes take in the
plunging v-neck of my shirt.  "Where were you going in such a hurry?"

"I was waiting for a friend but they never showed up."

"A friend?"  His eyes make it up to my face before taking a detour to the
dangly earrings I'm wearing.  His lips quirk in a smothered laugh.  "Is this
a boyfriend or a girlfriend?"

"Just a friend."

"I love your accent.  Are you from around here?  Come here often?  What's
your sign?"  He leans closer to me as he speaks, resting his elbows on the table
and finally meeting my eyes.  His are full of mischief.

"Georgia," I tell him.  "I'm from Georgia.  I'm just up here going to
cosmetology school."

That earns me a full smile.  "They don't have beauty colleges in Georgia?"

I give him the eyebrow.  "Of course they do.  But my cousin went to this one
and she recommended it highly.  I wanted to see the world so here I am."

"There's a lot of world to be seen in Ohio, that's for sure."

"Are you being facetious?" I ask him and he laughs.

"I'm just humoring you," he tells me.

"Why?"

His smile turns predatory and my stomach lurches as he leans even closer.
"Julie," he sings the name and moves one hand to touch my necklace.  To my
astonishment my nipples tighten the second his flesh meets mine.  My shirt
is so close-fitted I know he can't have missed that and I swallow, hard.  "Do
you do this frequently?" he asks.  "Pick up strange men in bars?"

"Never," I whisper.

"You look like the kind of girl who does.  I thought you knew how this game
was played."

"What game?" I ask and shiver as his finger traces the vee of my shirt.  I
should stop him, shouldn't I?  Or would that look suspicious?  He's right -
I do look like the kind of girl who's into one night stands.  "I don't play
games."

"Don't you?"  His eyes are dark and I realize that he's every bit as aroused
as I am.  Oh god, we're in trouble.  I should leave.  "Are you telling me that
you've never played games?  Never hid your true feelings from someone?
Never flirted?"

"Are you calling me a flirt?"  I bat my eyelashes at him, desperate to get
this conversation back on lightfooted ground.

"I think you are.  You act all high and mighty but underneath it all you
just want to be fucked."

My mouth opens in a gasp and Mulder picks up my right hand, holding it
between his own, turning it over as if to read my fortune.

"Was that an offer?" I ask.  Jerry and Amy are watching us, I can feel their
interest across the table and I realize Mulder's playing to the crowd.
Well, crowd of two.  Ron and Carol have started kissing each other and their
attention is elsewhere.

Mulder holds my hand, his long fingers stroking lightly over mine, tracing
barely-there patterns on my palm.  It is intensely erotic, the soft touch he
is using and I try my damndest not to wriggle.  "There's something here," he
murmurs bending closer to my hand.  "I see a man in your future."

"Really?" I lean closer myself until our foreheads are nearly touching, my
legs crossing restlessly under the table. This was a bad idea.  I admit it 
fully.

"Tall, dark, handsome," Mulder leans closer, his eyes squinting for closer
scrutiny.  "Wickedly funny.  You don't want to laugh at his jokes but you
do.  You think he's full of shit but you still find yourself drawn to him."

"I don't know anyone like that."

Mulder glances up at me.  "I said it was in the future.  You will."

"Can you see a name?  I'd like to know who to watch for."

"Hmmmm," he bends to his task again, running his fingers lightly in circles
on my palm before stroking up to my wrist.  I can't help it, this time I squirm
but at least I'm not shaking.  Yet.  His fingers glide back down drawing a
pattern on my palm.  I close my eyes for a second and bite my lip.

"Maybe an 'M'?"  He traces it again and nods.  "His name starts with an 'M'."

"Matt?  Mark?  Mike?" I puzzle it out.

"Melvin?" he adds helpfully and I shake my head.

"You said tall."

He nods at me and lifts my hand to place a kiss in my palm.  "For Melvin,"
he tells me.  "Hearing you're taken will break his heart."  He kisses my palm
again and I feel the tip of his tongue dart out to taste me.  Oh god, I
don't think these panties will ever be dry again.

"What about you, Joe?" I ask.  "What do you do for a living?"

"Construction," he tells me.  "We all work together."  Jerry gives me a
smile and tosses back the rest of his beer before turning his attention to Amy.
Mulder scoots his chair so that we're sitting knee to knee, facing each other.

"Nice skirt," he says, resting his hands on my bare knees and I jump
involuntarily.  "What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

"Would you believe me if I said I was looking for you?"

Mulder smiles.  "I'd say you found me."  His hands are warm, his fingers
tightening on me just the smallest bit before creeping upward to rest mid
thigh.  His fingers are now just barely under the hem of my skirt.

"What kind of construction?" I ask as his thumbs stroke over the insides of
my legs.  Our eyes meet in a staring contest as he silently calls my bluff.
How far am I willing to let him go?

"Buildings.  We're working on the office park out by the mall."  His hands
creep upwards just a little further.

I nod as if I know what he's talking about.

"So, Julie, when do you graduate from beauty school?"  Mulder looks down,
watching my lap, apparently as entranced as I am with the movement of his
fingers beneath my skirt.

"Next week," I say with a squeak as his right hand wanders further north
than any man has been since Bush was president.

"So this is hello-goodbye.  I'll never see you again."  He looks back up at
me and licks his lips.  I can't help but watch the gesture and the sight of his
glistening lower lip really does something for me, I must say.  His gaze
shifts to look at the distinct outline of my nipples through my shirt and I feel 
a
blush rising across my chest, up my neck and suffusing my cheeks.  I have to
know, have to oogle.  I look down at his lap and I can see the bulge in his
jeans.

What in god's name are we doing here?

His right hand is still climbing, sneaking closer and closer to the truth
about what he's doing to me.  I can't watch him so I close my eyes.  He knows.  
He
knows.  Oh god, he knows.  Either my thighs are sweating or I'm so damp it's
embarrassing, but he knows.  He squeezes my leg and pulls both his hands
away.

He knows.

***

"Dance with me, Julie."  He stands up, pulling me up with him and I give him a
dazed nod, turning to head towards the makeshift dance floor.  His hand rests
on the small of my back as we make our way over.  I flush all over when he puts
both arms around me, pulling me close against him.  My arms feel heavy and
uncooperative but I manage to reach his shoulders.  How could I never have
noticed how broad they were before?

You noticed, I tell myself.  You were just in denial.  You've been in denial
for years.  Welcome to the 12 Step program.  My name is Dana and I'm addicted
to my partner.

So, if Mulder is an addiction, dancing with him is not going to cure me, is it?
 The press of his body against mine, the weight of his arms encircling me, the
invasion of his knee between my legs - these are not things to set a girl on
the road to recovery.

Mulder bends his head, his breath hot and damp against my neck.  May I never
recover.  And may God forgive me for thinking so.   The song isn't quite slow
enough for slow dancing but we improvise, our bellies shifting against each
other as Linda Ronstadt wails "You're No Good."  

"Couldn't live without me, could you?" he murmurs, his lips grazing my ear as
he speaks.

I laugh, letting my forehead rest against his chest and his arms tighten a
little around me.  "Three months.  I miss you," he breathes into my hair.  "I
should never have called.  I just, I just wanted to hear your voice." We both
know he did it deliberately, leaving me a way to find him - just in case.   We
both know this but neither of us wants to acknowledge what it means.

"When do you graduate from beauty school?" I ask him, looking up only to be
shaken by the tenderness in his eyes.

"I don't know.  Gil and Jerry have their own little militia going.  I've been
working with them since I got here but it's only been recently that they've let
me start hanging out with them."

"I came at the wrong time, I should go."

"Actually, Julie," he draws out the "lee" on the end and I hear my name in the
inflection.  "You couldn't have come at a better time."

A new song starts, a faster one, but Mulder doesn't loosen his hold on me. 
"You're here now, I think you should stay."  His eyes search mine and then he
steps back, releasing me.  "I've yet to bring anyone home with me, they've been
teasing me about it.  I just couldn't involve someone in this, I couldn't..."  
He
stops speaking as Jerry and Amy come up next to us.  "Dude," he tells Mulder. 
"We're splitting.  You coming?"  Behind them I can see Gil and Jeanie heading
towards the door.

"Wanna hang with us?" Mulder asks me. Mulder and I exchange looks, weighing my
options.  Unexpectedly the feeling of fear for Mulder returns.  I can't just
let him leave.  He doesn't have a weapon and I can provide him with back-up.  I
have my gun in my purse.  All the well-dressed bimbos are packing heat these
days.

"Sure," I say.  "Let me grab my bag."  Carol and Ron are so engrossed in each
other I doubt they even realize they're being left behind.  Outside Mulder is
leaning against the building by the door.  He straightens up as I exit.

"Are you sure you want to come with us?  I don't think this is in your job
description."  His voice is quiet and deadly serious.

"I'm off-duty, my time is my own," I tell him and he reaches out to touch my
hair, his fingers brushing over the new 'do I'm sporting, all hairspray and
backcombing.

"This is a great look for you."

"Joe!  Let's go!"  Gil shouts across the parking lot, laughing at the rhyme and
I put my arm around Mulder's waist.   "Let's go then, Joe.  Show me how the
game is played."

Jerry has a Bronco and the bland expression on Mulder's face tells me a hundred
OJ jokes.  I climb in behind him and realize there is no place to sit.  Mulder
has to sit with his long legs sideways to even fit.  Gil and Jeanie are getting
a head start on their foreplay right next to him.  This is foolish, reminding
me of piling into the car with Missy's friends in high school.  Of course, back
then I always ended up in the front seat wishing that I had someone to make out
with in the back seat.  Mulder pulls me down onto his legs, his arms loosely
circling my waist.  I can feel the heat of his legs against my bare skin even
through the denim. I shiver and Mulder pulls me closer.

"You cold?" he asks and I nod.  "Yes, a little."

"Hey Jerry, can we get some heat back here?" Mulder asks.

"Gotta wait for the engine to warm up before I can turn on the heater.  Can't
you warm her up?"  Jerry finishes with a nasty little laugh.  Mulder answers
with his own laugh and rubs my arm with his hand.  

Next to us Gil breaks the kiss with Jeanie.  "I was starting to think you
didn't like girls, Joe."

"I don't.  I'm after your ass, Gil."

Jerry laughs from the front seat.  "Tell the truth, Joe.  Some woman broke your
heart, right?"

Mulder shifts uncomfortably beneath me.  "I was just waiting for something
worth waking up to," Mulder grumbles good-naturedly.

I guess I came just in time.  If I hadn't been here, or agreed to leave with
him, he would have had to pick up someone else.  Yep, good thing I was here
tonight.  I've saved Mulder from a possible STD, at the very least. 

Wherever Jerry's going, he's in a hurry to get there.  He tears out of Denny's
parking lot onto Route 7 and follows it south.  As we weave in and out of
traffic I say a silent prayer that we get wherever it is we're going.  Mulder's
knees are braced against the back of Jerry's seat and I can tell by the tension
in his body that he's having the same doubts about arriving alive.  I feel
off-balance, wobbling on Mulder's legs, unwilling to put my full weight down. 
Jerry takes a right turn that sends me sliding closer to Mulder's chest.

"Sorry," I mutter, struggling to sit upright again but Mulder closes his arms
around me and holds me against him.  

"I can keep you warmer if you sit closer." Mulder tells me, his hand rubbing
across the gooseflesh on my arm for emphasis.

"I'm not really that cold," I lie.

"Liar," he calls me on it.  "Or maybe you're trembling for another reason?"  He
shifts again beneath me and I swallow the gasp that rises in my throat.  For
one wild, unexpected moment I pictured myself sitting astride him while he
bucked up beneath me.  I banish that thought to the furthest reaches of my
mind.

"I am not trembling."  I will myself to stop shaking and my body obeys.  "I
don't tremble."

Mulder's hand travels down my arm again, the heel of his palm brushing over my
breast.  When he speaks his voice is as deliberate as the gesture was.  "Not
yet," he tells me.   

Jerry steers the Bronco up a hill and turns onto a narrow street.  He parks in
front of the dead end sign and we all pile out.  Gil crosses the street
clutching Jeanie to him.  Jerry and Amy are holding hands as they follow them.
I heft the comforting weight of my purse onto my shoulder as Mulder drapes his
arm over me.

In the dim light cast by the streetlamp it's difficult to tell but the entire
neighborhood seems to have seen better days.  We climb a rickety porch behind
Jerry and Amy as Gil opens the front door and turns on the lights.  

We step inside, the house is redolent with the smell of stale cigarettes.  The
kitchen is off to our left, the living room to our right, with a counter
separating them.  In the living room a ratty Naugahide couch with tufts of
stuffing poking through it takes up one wall.  An ugly brown and gold afghan
covers the back of the couch.  In the corner is an orange beanbag chair.  A tv
sits on the floor in front of the window.  There are stairs on the far wall
leading to both the second story and a basement.  Next to them is a closed
door.  Gil goes into the kitchen, pulling a couple of six packs out of the
refrigerator.  He sets one six pack on the counter.  He tucks the other under
his arm and tugs on Jeanie's wrist.  

"We're going upstairs," he informs us all.  "Make yourself at home," he tells
Mulder and me.  "Bathroom's through that door."  He waggles his eyebrows at us
and leads Jeanie upstairs.

Mulder and I are left staring after them.  My stomach squeezes in a fresh rush
of uncertainty.  This was a bad idea.  Jerry turns on the tv and turns off the
light in the living room.  He and Amy sit down on the couch.  Mulder looks at
me and I give him a slight shrug.

Mulder sits on the bean bag chair as Jerry lifts a remote and starts clicking
through the channels.  "Hey babe," Mulder says.  "Bring me a beer."  I bare my
teeth at him and look over at Jerry and Amy.

"Y'all want one?"

"Great, thanks."  Amy accepts my offer.  I pull four beers off the six pack and
scoop them against me.  I drop off the first two to Amy and Jerry and saunter
over to where Mulder sits.  I hold the beer out to him but he reaches out to
grab my wrist instead.  

"Why don't you sit down here with me?"  He opens his legs enough for me to sit
between them.  His hand is still holding my wrist, pulling me downwards so I
give in.  I sit down, crossing my ankles, instantly uncomfortable and hoping
that Jerry and Amy can't see up my skirt.  Mulder scoots backward in the chair
a little, pulling me with him.  My purse slips from my shoulder, landing on the
floor with a thud.  

On the couch Jerry and Amy seem much more interested in each other.  Jerry has
the tv tuned to some mindless action movie.  Sirens wail on-screen as he and
Amy snuggle into the corner of the couch.  Neither one even looks over to see
why my purse makes so much noise.  Mulder's hand reaches out, pulling my purse
a little closer to the chair.  Then he puts both hands on my shoulders and
gives them a light squeeze.

"Relax," he says.  "You're so tense.  Cutting hair must be more stressful than
I imagined."

I take a deep breath and let it out.  His hands continue to massage my
shoulders lightly and I lean back against him.

"It can be stressful," I say.  "You have to remember that you're really working
with someone's self-image.  You mess up and they'll be hating life for weeks."

"I never looked at it that way."  Mulder has found a knot in my muscles and he
pushes down harder with his thumb, making small circles.  I lean my head
forward, closing my eyes to memorize the sensation of having his hands on me
for this long.  

For nearly half an hour I sit between Mulder's legs with my eyes closed as he
kneads my muscles gently.  If he keeps this up I'll be asleep soon.  Why can't
all the surveillance we do be like this?  I open my eyes to see Amy and Jerry
kissing on the couch.  One of them begins humming as the kiss grows more
demanding.  What would it be like to kiss Mulder that way?  Mulder's hand
brushes lightly down my back and it tickles.  When I startle at the feeling he
repeats it.

"You trembling yet?" he asks and I turn to look at him.  His eyes are teasing
and I shake my head.  "No.  I told you, I don't tremble."

Jerry breaks the kiss and whispers hoarsely to Amy that they should go
upstairs.  They scarcely give us a look as they leave the couch and hurry,
laughing, up the stairs.

A door upstairs slams shut and I can hear their footsteps directly above us. 
After about 30 seconds Mulder gives me a gentle push forward.

"Time's up, Julie.  The masseuse has another appointment."

We both stand up and Mulder walks over to the wall, turning the light back on. 
I blink in the sudden glare.  Mulder begins poking around the living room with
a relentlessness that tells me he's never been here before.  I head into the
kitchen and start opening drawers.  Nothing unusual, nothing out of place, they
may not be into interior decorating but Gil and Jerry aren't slobs either.

Mulder starts up the stairs and then turns to motion for me to go check out the
basement.
 
"Are we looking for something in particular?" I ask, feeling foolish and
wanting desperately to appear useful.

Mulder shrugs and I take two steps up so he can whisper to me.  "We know they
have weapons stockpiled somewhere and that they've been purchasing the raw
materials for a bomb over the past year.  I doubt they'd be keeping them here
but we should check."

I nod and slide my heels off so I won't clomp loudly on the stairs.  The stairs
are wooden and they creak as I descend.  In the light coming from the doorway I
can see a string hanging from a bare light bulb.  I tug on it and the light
comes on.  The basement smells like my grandmother's, like bleach, dust and
mouldering books.  Clothes are piled all over the floor in front of a washing
machine.  There is a counter along the far wall covered with boxes and a few
stray tools.  I head over to the corner cast in shadows and poke around. 
Nothing.  Just junk.

Behind me I hear the stairs creak as Mulder comes downstairs.  "Anything?" he
asks.

I turn around and shake my head.  "Nothing.  Do you want to check outside?"

"No."  Mulder lets out a sigh and turns in a small circle.  "I doubt we're
going to find anything here.  They have a place out in the country where they
go to shoot each weekend.  I'm hoping to tag along with them this weekend."

"Maybe I should go then, call for backup and we can follow you tomorrow."

"No, I don't think so.  It would look better if you stay.  Tomorrow you can beg
off the shooting trip.  I just wish I could be there to see you explain to
Skinner how you happened to stumble across me dressed like this."  Mulder
gestures at my skirt with a grin and then starts back up the stairs.

I follow him upstairs and watch in bemusement as he goes straight to the
refrigerator and pulls out another six pack.  He pulls all the beers off and
lines them up on the counter.  "You want one?" he asks and when I shake my head
he hands me two.  Then he goes down the line, opening the other four with
precision.  He offers me a small smile before turning to the sink and dumping
one down.  Following his lead I set one down and open the other, pouring it
down the sink as well.  

For a few minutes we stand there, listening to the ceiling begin to thud
methodically above us as we pour beer down the sink.  When all of them are gone
Mulder crushes a few of the cans and tosses them towards the garbage can on the
far side of the kitchen.  He hits with two, misses with the last one but leaves
it on the floor.  He pushes the other empty cans together and walks into the
living room with them, setting them down at the end of the couch before kicking
two across the room.  

I stand with my arms crossed, watching the whole performance.  Above us Amy
lets loose with a screech that causes us to both look up.  Mulder flips off the
living room light, casting the room into shadows backlit by the tv.  He bends
to adjust one empty can just-so before walking back over to where I'm leaning
against the counter.

"Only one other thing we have to take care of here," he tells me and I feel all
the blood rush to my stomach at the gleam in his eye.

"What's that?" I ask and he bends down, his lips brushing my neck in an
almost-kiss.

"This," he whispers and bites down.

***

"Mul..." I start to say his name and he lifts his head.  "Joe," he corrects me,
his eyes searching mine for understanding.  "When the morning comes and Julie
looks unmolested it could seriously call my manhood into question."

Right.  Don't blow his cover.  Let him give you a hickey or two.  It'll look
good for Gil and Jerry.  I'll just wear shirts with collars for the next week
and avoid Skinner.  My hands squeeze the counter behind me as he bends to his
task again.  This time his teeth only scrape across me lightly, his tongue
darting out to obstensibly soothe me before he starts suckling and my knees
wobble.

"We should leave more than one," he tells me as he leans back and eyes my
cleavage.  "Tell me where you want the next one."

I study the company logo on his t-shirt as if it contains the secrets of the
universe.  I have a long list of places I'd like him to kiss me but lifting my
hand to show him would mean letting go of the counter and I'd fall down for
sure.  He bends and kisses the edge of my shirt and then his tongue slides
underneath, pushing the material to the side as he finds the trim on my bra to
his liking.

"Right there," I tell him.  "Right there is good."

"Mmmmm," he agrees with me and his arm goes around the back of me to brace me
as he gives me an experimental nip.  My head drops back and I watch the ceiling
as Mulder kisses the inner boundary of my breast.  In a minute I'm going to
screech even louder than Amy did.  The heat of his mouth is stoking other
fires, just as hot and wet, and I shudder at the thought that maybe he really
is seducing me, that he doesn't intend to stop at this. 

His mouth moves up, to my shoulder and this time he uses his hand to pull the
fabric aside as his mouth stakes a new claim.   His neck is just a few
millimeters from my mouth and I am nearly as shocked as he is when my tongue
darts out to taste him.

"Sc, Julie," he half-moans and then increases the suction on my shoulder.

"Don't you think my womanhood will be called into question if you're left
unmolested by morning, Joe?"  He makes no reply but shifts closer, pressing the
length of his erection against my hip and I take that as a 'yes'.  I let go of
the counter and cling to him, holding tight to his shoulders as I feast on the
warm flesh of his neck.  He tastes like all the dark mysteries we've never
solved, like danger and like salt.  I used to lick my palms as a child, craving
the taste of salt and the sea.  Mulder tastes like that.  Forget a salt lick, I
need a Mulder lick.  

I close my eyes so I can savor him completely, drunk on the musky smell of
sweat on his collar and the tangy taste of his skin.  I stretch up a little to
reach his earlobe and his breathing becomes erratic when I pull it into my
mouth.  I run one hand up into his hair, holding him to me as he continues to
mark my neck.

He gives me a last wet smack before straightening up.  For a moment we just
look at each other, our eyes wide as we catch our breath.  His eyes are dilated
and hooded, his lips swollen and another bloom of heat suffuses me to see him
this close, this aroused.

"That's probably good enough," he tells me and I nod.  This is all going to be
over in a few seconds and I want to cry at the loss of him.  I think he feels
the same way because he doesn't move, not letting up the pressure of his body
pinning me against the counter, his hands moving restlessly across my back. 
I'd give anything to really be Julie at this moment.

"Like hell it is," I barely register that he spoke before his lips cover mine. 
He's hesitant for a second, as if he thinks I'm going to push him away. 
Doesn't he realize we crossed that line back at the bar?  Truthfully I realize
that there are lines and then There Are Lines.   I may as well have set fire to
every bridge I crossed between here and D.C.  Standing here kissing Mulder I've
broken every rule of professionalism and common sense I've ever adhered to.

After that moment's indecision he becomes bolder, his lips pulling on mine to
draw me further into the kiss.  I don't need any urging.  Tonight I am not
Scully.  I'm Julie and, by god, this is one one-night stand I'm going through
with.  If Gil and Jerry want to see some molestation they're going to get an
eyeful.  I tug his shirt free of his jeans, sliding my hands underneath and
marveling at the sleek muscles that bunch beneath my roving fingers.  Three
months of working construction have hardened his body, the weight he'd put on
while we were on desk duty is gone.  Desire washes over me, hot and liquid and
scary.

Yes, scary.  Scary because I'm positive that this is the worst possible idea
but I've wanted him for so long, wondered for so long.  Scary because the
sensation of his hands on my body is endlessly more erotic than I had ever
dreamed it could be.  Scary because I don't recognize the woman I've become. 
I'm kissing him with desperation, my hands tearing at his shirt and he obliges
me by stepping back and shedding it.  Scary because I've never actually wanted
to devour someone before.

I grab the belt loops on his jeans and pull him back against me, kissing the
hard planes of his chest.  I dart my tongue out to tease his nipple and he
jerks, groaning deep in his chest, the vibrations of it tickling my lips.

His fingers weave into my hair and tip my head back so that he can kiss me
again.  I open my mouth wanting more - more of him, more of his kisses.  My
tongue pushes into his mouth and his strokes against mine, luring me further
inside.  I've never much cared for the taste of beer but, in Mulder's mouth, it
somehow tastes sweeter, more rich.  I need to know how the rest of him tastes. 
I give his lower lip a soft nip and then move to plant kisses along the stubble
on his jaw.  His head rolls back, allowing me access to his neck and I repay
his earlier actions by leaving another bruise on his neck.  I kiss a path down
his chest, working my way towards the fine trail of hair below his navel.  I
push him backwards, my breath whistling as I gulp in oxygen.  When I hear his
foot hit the edge of the couch I still him and he waits.  My hands are shaking
but I manage to undo the top button on his jeans.

"Juuu-leeee," he groans, his hands gripping my shoulders as I slide the zipper
down.  I tug at his pants and boxers, pushing him backwards before they even
reach his knees.  He lands on the couch with a dazed expression on his face. 
The tv casts shadows and light across his face as I kneel slowly in front of
him, pushing his knees apart to accommodate me for the second time tonight.

God help me, I salivate at the sight of his erection, rigid and gratifyingly
thick.  My fingers skate up his legs and he slouches a little, drawing closer
to me.  I scratch through the hair on his thighs with my fingernails, moving my
hand closer to where we both want it to be.  Mulder never takes his eyes off my
face, watching me with the astonished look he usually reserves for the
paranormal.  I lick my lips and nearly giggle when his cock twitches.

I wrap my fingers around the base of him, giving him a small squeeze before
sliding up.  His hips lift off the couch, following the movement of my hand as
I reach the head of him.  My hand glides back down and he sinks into the sofa
again.  I lick my lips again and then lean forward, taking just the tip of him
into my mouth.  He tastes salty here too, bittersalt, but still delicious.  My
tongue traces the slit on the head and Mulder gasps above me.  His hands move
back to my shoulders, his fingers flexing but not insistent.

Oh, Mulder.  We'll see who trembles.

My tongue swirls a few times around him, pulling him a little deeper with each
pass.  I hollow my cheeks, letting him have some suction before I relax my
throat and let him slide all the way in.  It has been a long time but I still
manage not to gag as he bumps the back of my throat.  My hand slides down to
cup his balls, my thumb tracing gentle circles on the papery skin there in time
to the up and down motion of my mouth.

Mulder relaxes into the couch, his hands dropping off my shoulders.  With each
upstroke my tongue bathes the tip of him before I swallow him whole again.  His
hips jerk when my thumb traces the line down the middle of his scrotum.

"Not fair," he groans.  "You're not being fair."

I want to ask him what he means but I can't.  At least, not until he puts his
hands on my shoulders again, not-so-gently pushing me away.  "What's not fair?"

Mulder takes a few deep breaths before answering in a raspy voice.  "What are
we doing here, Scully?"

"Julie," I correct him, caressing his upper legs.  I know exactly what we're
doing here and I don't want to stop it.  The barriers I erected between us over
the years are crashing down.  I can hear them tumbling down in every squeak of
the floorboards above us, every thud against the ceiling reminding me of why I
came here.  "I'm Julie.  You brought me here for a reason, Joe.  What was it?"

For a minute he doesn't speak.  His harsh panting is louder than the tv.  His
cock lurches as if to assert its opinion.  "I never thought...  I never dreamed
we'd end up like this."

"Never?"  My knees are aching on this wooden floor but I don't move from
between his legs.  I decide to continue being brazen.  "I have.  I dream about
you all the time, Joe."

He laughs then, although it comes out more like a wheeze.  "What do you dream
about?  How does it happen?"

I look around the living room taking in the ambience and then look back at
Mulder, naked save the jeans bunched around his ankles, and I laugh myself.  "I
don't think I ever had this particular one before.  Usually I'm dressed
differently."

"Do I take your shirt off, Julie?  Or do you do it?" Mulder leans forward,
bunching my sleeve between his fingers experimentally.

"It depends," I tell him.

"Well, when I never dream about this you usually take it off."  He sits back
and watches me, waiting.  I pull my shirt off, tossing it to the side and then
look back at him.  My eyes flicker down to his erection, still bobbing against
his stomach.  Mulder catches my look and reaches down to stroke himself.  My
eyes widen, I never realized that watching a man do this could be so erotic.

"Sometimes, when I don't dream about you, you take me in your mouth like you
just did, Julie."  I tear my eyes away to look back into his.  He strokes
himself a few more times and then he slides forward, off the couch, and I
scrabble backwards in surprise.  Most people seem so much smaller when they're
undressed, Mulder seems larger than life, vibrantly alive and close enough to
kiss.  My heart beats furiously and I realize that I'm about to get what I've
been asking for all night.

"But I have one little fantasy I never indulge in, Julie.  One I could never
believe would occur with the precise and correct person I never dream about." 

Oh god, I'm afraid to ask.  The same liquid scary desire from earlier washes
over me, much more amplified now.

"What?"  I finally manage to ask.  "What don't you dream about?"

I've granted him permission but Mulder doesn't move.  His eyes rake over my
chest and I'm ready to tear my bra off and beg when he lifts one hand and makes
a circling motion.  Turn around.

"Oh," I suck in a deep breath.  "Oh god."  But I do as he asks, turning my back
to him.  I feel the hot breath from his lips before they touch me.  His tongue
snakes out and traces the ridge of my left shoulder blade.  "After tonight
Julie I'm going to know what you taste like everywhere," he whispers.  His
hands run lightly from my shoulders to my hips and back again.  Then his hand
takes a detour and I feel him drawing a circle on my lower back. I realize he's
touching my tattoo. "You're mine now."  His voice is scarcely recognizable, it
is pitched so low.  And then his fingers grab the hem of my skirt.  His hands
are rough, pulling my skirt up around my waist.  He yanks my panties down. 
It's a struggle for him to get them as far as my knees.  I drop forward and
scissor my legs, managing to get one ankle free but I can still feel them damp
around my left calf.

Mulder's hands are on my hips and he shifts me, pulling my ass a little higher.
 I can feel the air cool against the damp flesh between my legs before he moves
closer.  The heat coming off  his body is now  the only sensation in the world.
 The weight of his right hand leaves me but he doesn't move.  My arms are
shaking with anticipation and then I feel the thick head of his cock prodding
my entrance.  Oh god, please, Mulder, please.  I need this.  He presses closer,
parting me, sliding only the tip of him in and I groan at the invasion.

"You're trembling now, aren't you?" his voice is a guttural whisper that makes
me shake harder.

"Please."  I whisper it through dry lips and rock backwards, impaling him a
little further inside me.  My inner muscle leap and twitch as my nerves try to
decide whether this is pain or pleasure. 

"Please."  I whisper it again and try to buck backwards but he moves both hands
to my hips to hold me still.  I can feel him throbbing inside me and I groan in
frustration.  And then he moves, a swift thrust that stabs right through the
center of me.  My arms are shaking so hard I can't hold myself up and I slide
to the floor, turning my head and muffling his real name against my bicep.

Mulder's arm comes around my waist, hauling me back up close to him as he
begins a steady rhythm of slow thrusts.  A long stroke in that makes me gasp in
gratitude followed by an unhurried retreat.  His breathing isn't anywhere as
controlled as his movements inside me are and I wonder how long it will be
until he loses control.  I wonder how long it will be before I do as his
testicles nudge my clit everytime his groin comes to rest against my ass.  I
rock back against him with every stroke in, locking my arms to keep myself
upright.

Mulder picks up the pace, his hips grinding mercilessly against me and my arms
finally give up for good.  I sink down, my head resting on my forearms and wail
as he slides one hand around to cup me.  He is not gentle, which is good, I'm
far too swollen to be moved by delicate caresses.  A few small explosions
radiate through my abdomen and down into my legs.  I slide further forward as
my legs give out but Mulder follows me down, relentless in his thrusts.

"I never do this to you, I never do," he groans, releasing my clit to bring his
arm up around my chest, buying himself a little more leverage.  "I never, god,
Scully, I never could..."  He slows for a moment and plants a kiss on my
shoulder, his humid breath increasing the moisture across my back.  I clench
around him, feeling the wave of another orgasm approaching.  Please, god, don't
let him be stopping.  He whimpers against my shoulder, kisses it again and then
tells me in a hoarse whisper, "Never."  

He takes a few short strokes inside me and I begin to sob against my arms as
love, pleasure and an indescribable feeling of well-being cascade through my
consciousness.   Mulder stiffens, groans, and makes a series of rapid fire
thrusts.  I feel him swell inside me and then he topples over, pressing me into
the hard floor as his hips give a few more languid strokes.  I can't stop
trembling now, all my muscles are in rebellion, unable to cope with the sensory
overload.  I cry silently against my arms and wait for him to regain his
senses.

After a minute or so he does, rolling to the side and sitting up.  I can't
move, I feel like a rag doll.  I can hear him shuffle back into his jeans
before kneeling down next to me again.  "Hey," he touches my shoulder gently. 
"There's no wet spot on the couch."  I manage to push myself up enough to roll
onto my side.  Mulder pushes my still-quivering legs apart, wiping me gently
with his t-shirt before pulling my skirt back down, giving me partial modesty. 
When he looks up at my face his expression changes to horror at my wet cheeks.
 
"Don't look at me like that," I wipe under my eyes with the back of my hand and
give him a watery smile.  "I'm fine.  I'm just incredibly moved."

"Well, let me move you one last time tonight, ok?"  Mulder pulls me against
him, lifting me and shifting both of us onto the couch.  I lay spooned against
him, the warm flesh of his chest against my back.  I should probably find my
shirt but at least my bra is still on.  Besides, the feeling of his bare skin
against mine is worth any oogling I might suffer in the morning.  Mulder
reaches behind him, pulling the afghan down onto us.

The tv continues to flicker in the corner but my eyes are too heavy and tired
to watch it.  I take a deep shuddering breath and let it out.  Mulder's arms
tighten around me and he kisses my cheek softly.

"I will admit to dreaming about this," he murmurs.

"What's that?" I ask.

"Sleeping on a couch with you in my arms.  I'll admit to that."

"Let's just hope you're not asked to."

Mulder chuckles.  "I never saw you here, this didn't happen.  But every now and
then my partner's going to wonder why I dream of Julie."

"Jeanie." I correct him.

"Jeanie?  No, I never dream about her."

"Like you never dream about me?"

"Don't tell me you have a harem girl outfit with you too?  Because I never
dream about that either."

"Good night, Mulder."  I whisper it to him, needing to hear myself say his real
name, acknowledge what really happened.  

"Good night, Scully.  Sweet dreams."  He whispers back and I want to tell him I
don't have many dreams left but I'm asleep before I can do so.  

***

End 

Author's Notes:  Ok, ok - I acknowledge freely that they're wildly out of
character but I wanted to write it anyway.  This was my first try at something
like this.  Feedback will only encourage my bad behavior. 
Akinney238@aol.com