simple1


	Title: A simple mistake Author: Mattress (jez22@hotmail.com) Rating: R Classification: Mulder/Scully Romance (What else?) Disclaimer: Well, they're not mine. Wish they were, though. Their lives would be a LOT more fun! Summary: Scully has an accident, Mulder helps her out. A simple mistake I hereby declare that Dana Katherine Scully is a top notch idiot. I lie back on the pillow and sigh helplessly. I don't believe this has happened. I don't believe I am lying in a hospital bed with a dislocated hip, a fractured ankle and a badly bruised forearm. I shouldn't be here. I should be out, chasing aliens with Mulder, not stuck in this fucking hospital, eating fucking hospital food, listening to fucking nurses talk about the fucking symptoms of fucking thrush. Okay. So I tripped down the stairs at my mom's. One little mistake and I'm stuck in this dreary old dump, completely fed up to the back teeth, with only woman's magazines to keep me occupied. Oh, and an Enid Blyton, 'Noddy' book. Where the hell did that come from? Some kid must've left it here. Oh well...at least I didn't cry until I was in the ambulance. "Hey Scully." I smile. Oh, this is just what I need. My weird, yet wonderful, partner and his amazing sense of humor. I grin, despite the pain in my elbow and wonder how long it took him to convince Skinner to let him out the office for an hour or so. He sits down on the side of the bed, placing a plastic bag on the bedside table. "Hey, Mulder. God, am I glad to see you," I moan, and lift my arms to give him the hug that I seriously need. Sharp pains shoot through my arm and I try, but fail, to suppress a look of agony. Mulder looks at me, concerned. "Did I hurt you?" His face creases in anxiety. Trust Mulder to be guilty. I sigh. "No, it wasn't you. I tried to move, to give you a hug." "You want a hug?" I nod. "Just...be gentle." I push myself awkwardly up from the raised bed and Mulder puts his arms gently around me. This is good. It's a darn sight better than the small shoulder squeeze I got off my Mom this afternoon. And it was on my bruised arm. I rest my head on his shoulder, glad for the comfort. Mulder strokes my back, gently. Then he eases me back onto the pillows, keeping hold of my hand. He takes the plastic bag that he brought in earlier, reaches into it and brings out a magazine. "Here, I got something to keep you occupied." He hands it to me. Oh, no. Not another woman's magazine, please, I think. But it isn't, I realize, as I stare at the front cover. "'The Lone Gunmen'. Thank you, Mulder." I laugh, grateful for the long awaited humor that this dreary hospital needs. "I thought you might be interested in that. I must warn you, though," He leans forward, slightly, his eyes sparkling with humor. "I think Frohike might have written on the inside." I open to the first page. Yep. There, in scrawled handwriting, is the dreaded message. "'Dearest Scully.'" Dearest? I raise my eyebrows. "'So sorry to hear about your accident. I don't care how many casts they put you in, you'll still be the hottest agent in D.C.'" He's very sweet, Frohike, but he's not...my type. I put a hand to my mouth, trying to stop the laughter, but I can't. Out it bubbles, but I end up with tears in my eyes, my hip hurts when I laugh. I catch Mulder smothering a grin. "So, what you been doing?" he inquires and I grimace. "Oh, please don't remind me. I might die from the excitement." I roll my eyes, leaning my head back on the pillow. "This place is so dreary. It's like no other hospital I've ever been to." "Never mind. You'll be out in a bit...won't you?" I raise my eyebrows at him, knowing the answer, just not wanting to acknowledge it. He doesn't yet know the exact details of my injuries, and I'm not looking forward to telling him. "I have," I begin, taking a deep breath, "a dislocated hip, which is incredibly sore, and which I have to keep off for a couple of weeks; a badly bruised forearm, which is also incredibly sore, even to the extent of which I can't move it without getting a painful reminder of it's existence; and a fractured, in other words broken ankle, which may take as many as seven or eight weeks to heal." I take in another breath, attempting to keep my voice steady, and also hoping that my confused partner won't ask me to explain it again for fear of his safety. Yes, I still have the whole left side of my body free of any invalidity. Besides, I don't think I could manage all that again. I may be a medical doctor, but sometimes even I have trouble pronouncing words. Especially in this somber blow of depression. "God," he breathes, "I didn't realize it was going to be such a long time." I smile slightly at him, not wanting to cease the humor. His eyes are full of disappointment, and his own personal thoughts coax his grin into a frown. He looks just like a little boy, who has just been told that he is not allowed to go outside to play. Boy, does he look like the world is about to fall on his head. "I might get let out early, for good behavior," I say quietly, trying to lighten his mood. <Come on, Mulder> I think, <help me out here>. Luckily, he smiles at my light joke, taking my hand in his again and squeezing it. His mood changes as he looks at the cast reaching up to my knee. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a pen. "Can I write on your cast?" * * * * * * Three weeks later, they let me out. Mom and Mulder were there to push the wheelchair that the hospital always insist you sit in, and I said good-bye to the hospital. Oh, and the girl in the bed next to me, Carrie. We'd grown pretty good friends, and exchanged phone numbers as I left. She kept me from going insane by telling me really wonderful stories about which nurse had been out with who, and why they'd split up. That kind of thing. She was fun, high-spirited and, basically, a great laugh. Mulder met her one evening, when he came to see me. They hit it off almost immediately and the nurses referred to the three of us as, 'Spooky, Scientist and Sooty'. Don't ask. Carrie has beautiful, chocolate-colored skin and jet-black hair. We made so much noise, laughing and talking, that the ward sister, one time, had to tell Mulder to go home. I think Mulder only took me outside twice, but that's mainly because it was really cold out and rained almost every day. The air is so fresh out here, it startles me. It isn't warm now, but the sun is out, making the trees shimmer. Birds sing in the trees, the sun's rays leave my face feeling bright, I feel quite content. We get to the car and I hook my good arm around Mulder's shoulders as he settles me in. As usual, Mom is fussing around me. Am I too cold? Does my back hurt? Do I want a pillow for my arm? I throw an amused look at Mulder, and he smiles, raising his eyebrows at my mother. Yeah, she's always like this. And I hate being mothered, but it's comforting to be reminded that she cares. Eventually, she stops fussing long enough to get in the car and buckle her seatbelt. The journey home is uneventful, except when Mulder and Mom discuss which way to take me. We finally get to my apartment building, and Mulder parks the car. This is going to be interesting. When he opens my door, I don't quite know what to do. I sigh, exasperated, realizing that it's going to take ages for me to get the seeming-like-thousand-miles to my front door, on one crutch. I can't use them both because my arm is still painful to move, let alone put weight on. Luckily, Mulder is a quick thinker. "Want me to carry you?" I reside myself to the fact that this is the only way I'm going to get there. "Yeah. Thanks, Mulder." He smiles in a 'don't mention it' kind of way and I catch that cute glint in his eye. He hooks his arms under my knees and around my shoulders and raises his eyebrows, his eyes asking if I'm OK. I nod, draping my good arm around his shoulders and hang on to him. He lifts me neatly out of the car, missing my head hitting the top of the door by millimeters. I lay my head on his shoulder. This feels kind of weird. His arms around me feel really good. It's especially nice to get so close to him, for once. One of his hands is touching the top of my thigh. I shiver at the image of Mulder running his hands up my legs and shake my head to erase the thoughts. I can't think like that. It's not right. Save those contemplations for later, Dana. But the thing is, I don't want to. Mulder carries me to my door, Mom uses her keys to unlock it and I'm home. Home. At last. I sigh, feeling a lot better spiritually than I have done for ages. I also have deja vu. Well kinda. Didn't he complain that he hadn't carried me over the threshold that time we posed as newly-weds? "Where do you wanna go?" Mulder asks. I look around. "Put me on the couch," I tell him. He lowers me onto the upholstery, reaching for the blanket draped over the back. He lays it on top of me, tucking me in like a child. He places a cushion under my knee and crouches down next to me. "Dana? Do you need anything?" Mom's fussing over me again. Oh God. "Not really. I went to the bathroom before we came home, and I'm not hungry or thirsty." I smile at her, and then roll my eyes at Mulder when she turns her back to fetch a pillow from my room. I can't wait until I'm better. I really can't. * * * * * Two weeks later I. Hate. Being. An. Invalid. I hate it so much I almost wish I was dead. Ever since I was little, I've hated not being able to do stuff. I've lived on my own too long, almost fifteen years now, to rely on other people. And to top it all, my mother is driving me crazy. Now, it's not that I don't appreciate her kindness, her help, but a few more days of her mothering me and I may have a dead body on my hands. The only things that keep me going are Mulder's thrice-weekly visits. Every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday afternoon, Mulder comes over to look after me, while Mom goes out and has a break. He doesn't have to do too much. He doesn't have to bathe me or take me to the bathroom. I can almost go to the bathroom on my own, now. God. That sounds so childish. I can get my pants off, I can sit, it's just a bit awkward standing back up off the seat. My hip hasn't quite healed and is still very weak. My bad arm still can't take the weight it needs to on crutches, but at least it's getting better. The plaster on my ankle gets in the way, and I still have to use crutches to get around. Mulder's visits are like my salvation. He's great, always bringing another story from the office. Once or twice, he has brought an X-file for me to read through. He needs my opinion a lot. It's just that, last time, Mom came in and caught me with a case on a couple of alleged abductees, thought to have been raped by an alien with a bad hormonal problem. She wasn't too pleased, I'll say that. She told Mulder not to bring any more X-files, and to let me have the rest I need. She then told me I shouldn't be worrying about anything concerning work. He's coming in about ten minutes. Mom's going to a cookery contest that one of her friends is taking part in. She'll have a great time, she always does. Mulder and I usually play some type of board game, or watch TV together. And we talk. Sometimes, if we're watching the TV, and Mom's late home, Mulder falls asleep. That's nice because I get to watch him sleep. It's lovely to sit watching the TV, my legs resting on a pillow across his lap. He looks so cute when he's dozing, kinda cuter than normal. His bottom lip always sticks out when he sleeps. He is so unguarded, so sweet, so... I'm doing it again. I wake from my daydreams and realize that the doorbell is ringing. Mom goes to answer it and I crane my neck backwards in anticipation. I know it's him. I always do. Mom reaches for her coat and Mulder enters, coming straight over to me and giving me a gentle hug. "Hey Gorgeous. How you feeling?" Oooh. I love it when he calls me that. I look over his shoulder to catch my moms broad smile. We always flirt around Mom. I don't know why. It's just this thing we always do, unconsciously. She likes to see us getting friendly. And it sure does make her happy. "Hey Mulder. I'm feeling better." Mom utters her good-byes and leaves, whistling merrily. As soon as the door closes, I let out a sigh of relief, letting my head fall onto the back of the couch. Mulder smiles and sits down next to me. "Your Mom driving you nuts again?" I nod. "If she asks me if I want help with going to the bathroom one more time, I think I'm gonna either kill her, or kill myself." He raises his eyebrows, tilts his head at me, embarrassed to ask me out loud. The question is almost audible. "Mom took me about five minutes ago," I say. He smiles, appreciating the understanding we so commonly share between us. "Hey," he starts, "you'll never guess what Langley told me this morning." "You're right. What?" "Frohike's seeing someone." I raise my eyebrows, not quite believing what I am hearing. "Frohike is seeing someone?" I repeat. "You have gotta be kidding me." "Nope. Turns out one of his many fans from the magazine they do, kept following him. She turned up at his apartment a few nights ago, demanding to talk to him. They ended up having one hell of a night, so I've been told." He winks at me. I can't help it. I laugh out loud. It's just that the thought of Frohike acting tender, loving and caring turns my stomach slightly. It's a funny thought, anyhow. "At least he'll be leaving me alone for a while. No more little notes inside of magazines." Mulder's eyes grow softer, and I catch something deep and meaningful in them before he blinks and gets up. "What do you wanna do tonight then, Scully?" The friendly leer is back in his voice, and I smile, lifting an eyebrow, suggestively. "Well..." He knows exactly what's coming. "No," he says, mock-serious, "don't want to make that hip any worse." I laugh. "Mom hired me a movie. Wanna watch it?" "Did it come in a brown paperbag?" he asks, hopefully. "No it didn't, but it is a romance, which I guess is the next best thing." I smile and then shift on the couch, uncomfortably. I can never seem to get comfy on my couch at the end of the day, no matter how many pillows I put under my back. My hip aches, so does my shoulder, from being on the crutch all day. Mulder looks at me, concerned. "You okay?" "Well, I can't seem to get comfortable." I shrug, wincing at my aching muscles. Mulder seems to think for a moment, then turns to put on the movie. "You want a drink?" "No thanks." I shift this way and that, painfully coming to no successful conclusion to my problem. He rises from his crouch and watches my pathetic ministrations. Grabbing the remote, he strides over to me. "Okay," he says, after a moments thought. "Stand up a minute." I take the arm he offers me and pull myself up, grabbing onto the side of the couch and leaning on it. He picks up the four pillows that were behind my back and sits, then lies on his side on the couch. Moving back as far as he can, he pushes one of the pillows under his own head, then arranges two of them in front of him. "Come here," he says, patting the cushions near his chest. I hop over to him and lower myself onto the couch, on my good side. Laying my head on the pillows, I sigh. Mulder reaches down and places the remaining cushion under my ankle, between my legs, supporting the cast. This is much better. I sigh again as he snakes his arm around my waist, pulling me back against him. The other arm supports my neck. "Thank-you," I breathe. "You're welcome," he whispers into my hair. He presses play and the movie begins. Romeo and Juliet. My mom actually made a pretty good choice this time. I snuggle into Mulder's careful embrace and smile. By the time the scene in the pool comes along, I'm convinced Mulder's asleep. His breathing has turned even. It tickles the back of my neck, making me shiver. My assumptions are dashed when he murmurs: "You cold?" "No." This is getting weird. I try to concentrate back on the movie. Then I feel Mulder hand tickling my side, gently. I'm suprized to find that it feels really nice. I mean really nice. Mulder's touched me before, but he's never caressed me like this. Sensibly, his fingers don't stray past my waist, my hip's still quite painful to touch. But they do wander up as far as where the bottom of my bra is. Reflexively, my body tenses when he touches me there, but then relaxes into it. Slowly, his fingers stop their tickling, and I know that he's asleep. I listen to his soft snoring, level and even. The sound lulls me into peaceful slumber, the last thing I remember is laying my bad arm over his around my waist. A little while later, I slowly wake, realizing that my Mom isn't home yet. The TV shines blue light, casting shaky shadows over the walls. I can still feel Mulder's arm around my waist and I turn my head towards him. He's leaning on one elbow, watching me and smiles when he sees I'm awake. "Sleep well?" he whispers. "Yes, thankyou. You?" He nods, looking over at the clock on the wall. He frowns and asks: "What time is Maggie coming back?" "Supposed to be ten-thirty. She's going to a party at Susan's house after the contest." "She's late." "Why, what time is it?" "Half-past eleven." "God. She's hardly ever late." I attempt to push myself up from the couch but have a bit of trouble getting the leverage. I look helplessly at Mulder and he smiles, lifting me gently up against his body, before standing up. A thought flashes through my mind, briefly. He's touching me an awful lot more than he did last week. And that look in his eyes, where have I seen that before? Puzzled, I push the thoughts into the back of my mind for later reference. "Want me to call her house?" "Yeah, please." He picks up the phone and dials the number on the pad. "Hello. Is Mrs. Scully there please?...Oh, right. What time did she start off?..Well, it's half eleven now, and she's not back yet...Yeah, maybe...Okay, thanks anyway." I raise my eyebrows in question as he puts down the receiver. "She left at about ten o'clock. The woman I spoke to said she was coming straight home." I'm starting to get really worried. This is not like Mom at all. She's never late to anything, if she can help it. So where is she? I frown, half tired, half worried. He sits next to me on the couch, taking my hand in his. "Look," Mulder says, "she's probably gone for a drink at someone's house. Maybe she decided to sleep over." "Then why hasn't she called? Why hasn't she let me know where she is?" I'm getting kind of frantic now. "What if she was in a car accident? What if she got attacked? What if she's dead?" I start to shake and Mulder pulls me to him, making little shushing noises. "Scully, listen to me." He turns me gently around to face him. "Your Mom is okay. Stop panicking." I nod and bury my face in his chest, willing the tears that threaten to spill over away. Slowly I relax into him. His arms go gently around me and he kisses the top of my head, comforting me. My God. It's happening again. That weird feeling I get whenever we are close. It courses through my veins, speeding up my heartbeat, sending my thoughts into a tumble of mess. I look up at Mulder. His eyes are closed but he opens them halfway and just stares at me. He bends down, resting his forehead against mine. And I know that he feels it too. "It's going to be okay," he repeats, softly, his words so quiet I almost don't hear them. I bring my hands up to his face, tracing his ears, his cheekbones. His face changes from concern to wonder as I shift closer to him, hardly noticing the stab of pain situated in my lower back. I need this. I need it like I need oxygen, like I need food. And I want this. I want it so much that I can hardly breathe. Our lips move together almost by their own accord. I feel Mulder's arms go around my waist. This is incredible. I'm kissing him. I'm kissing Fox Mulder. I feel his hand slide up my side, choosing the same path that he chose not two hours ago. As his thumb brushes the side of my breast again, my back arches, and I moan into his mouth. I don't believe this is happening, that this beautiful man is touching me like this. The kiss escalates, sending all my senses into confusion. I'm hot and cold at the same time. And now my own hands travel over his body. I want to touch him like he touches me. They slide down his chest and back upwards, resting on his shoulders. His tongue slips into my mouth, mingling with my own, tasting me as I taste him. Both his thumbs begin to circle the hardened nubs, through my T-shirt, sending waves of pleasure sweeping through my body to rest between my legs. This is the most sexual contact I've had since before I fell down those dreaded stairs. That's almost six weeks without anything more than a couple of hugs. My bad hip means I can't masturbate in comfort, which is a big blow since the life I chose when I first started my work on the X-files meant celibacy like I've never known it. I can't say I haven't tried, but with my mom in the next room, it just doesn't feel right. His thumbs press harder and I'm forced to break the kiss, dropping my head forward, inhaling sharply at the sensations. As I become used to the feeling of his hands on me, elicting another moan, I bring my head up to kiss him once more. What I don't hear is the key turning in the lock and the door opening slowly. Mulder hears it, though, breaking the kiss and lifting his hands from me, quickly. His face is flushed and his breathing is heavy. Then I turn slowly around and catch sight of my mother, standing with her hands on her hips. "Hey Mom," I say, trying to sound bright, relief flooding through me as I realize that she isn't in any danger, that she has arrived home safely. My face is beetroot red, I know, but she doesn't seem that bothered about what she's just seen. "Hello, Dana. Sorry to disturb you two." She turns to take off her coat and hang it on the tree, before creeping away to the spare bedroom, shutting the door behind her. "What the..?" I'm lost for words. My mother has just walked in on me and Mulder making out like anything on the couch, and she doesn't seem the least suprized. "Exactly what I was thinking," Mulder replies, shaking his head in confusion. "She didn't seem suprized at all." I suddenly realize the full extent of what we've just done. I flinch shifting across the seat, away from him. What were we thinking? What came over me? Mulder catches my discomfort and can't look me in the eye. "I'm sorry, Scully. I shouldn't have done that. I was stupid." He catches my gaze then. "But you weren't really protesting." I nod at him, my emotions going into overdrive. Maybe we should have done this. Maybe it was fate. I take his hand in both of mine and look right into his eyes. I feel better than I have ever felt. This was definitely a good thing. And I find that I want him to touch me again, want to feel his hands gliding over my body, making me hot, making me want him. I reach down for his other hand, bringing them both up to my waist. He catches my eye and glances nervously at the door of the spare bedroom. "Please, Mulder. She won't disturb us." I unconsciously hold my breath while he considers this, chewing his bottom lip. I move closer, running my hands up over the tight muscles in his chest. I so much want to kiss him again. Then he nods slightly, smiles and whispers, "Okay." He moves forward to kiss me, just as his hands travel back up to my breasts, kneading and rubbing the taught peaks. This is amazing. I want to scream and shout, but I can't forget that my mom is in the next room. He presses his lips against mine again and recognition floods my senses as our tongues collide. I move to sit on his lap, but stop just in time, remembering my hip and ankle. God, why did I have to fall down those stairs? How did I know that this would happen, today of all days, when I'm so obviously incapable of doing anything more? Is that fate too? Is it a test, to see whether my love for this man is spiritual, not just physical? God, did I just say love? Shit. I know now that I'm in love with him. No. Erase that. I've always known, at the back of my mind about my feelings for Fox Mulder. I've just never acknowledge them properly. Mulder breaks the kiss and looks into my eyes. Then he whispers into my ear something that I will remember for the rest of my life: "I want to make love to you." My heart turns a little flip-flop in my chest and I kiss him lightly on the lips before sighing helplessly. "Great minds think alike." He smiles. "But there's just one problem." I indicate my cast, hip and arm. "Can you wait a few weeks? I'll be fit and well by then." He nods. "Oh, I think I can last a little longer. I've spent six years waiting for you already, a few weeks more can't hurt. In the mean while," he grins, "I want to hold you properly." I look down at our mini-hug, the top of our bodies being the only parts touching. It sounds like a brilliant idea to me, so I nod my head at him and give him another quick kiss. Mulder sits sideways on the couch, his feet resting on the armrest, and holds out his arms to me. This is going to be interesting. I sit across his lap, leaning down sideways on my good arm into the crook of his. Oh, this is good. This is really good. One of his arms snakes around my back, the other holds my face. He rests his chin atop my head, burying his nose in my hair. I close my eyes and sigh. Oh, I could stay like this forever. My thoughts are shattered by the noise of a door opening. No, not again. I'm far too comfortable to move for anything. "Dana?" Except my Mom. I push myself up hastily, peeking over the top of the couch. Mom stands there, arms full of clothes, and raises her eyebrows at me. "I was, er, getting comfortable." I flinch at how suggestive that sounds. "I mean, Mulder offered to give me some comfort..." "Dana, it's okay." She puts the clothes down on the floor and walks over to one of the chairs, sitting down in it. "What do you mean?" I ask. Mulder sits up, as confused as I about my mother's strange behavior. "Even if neither of you didn't, I noticed the obvious love and passion between you two from the beginning." She smiles. "I'm so happy that you finally realized it, you two are meant to be together." I feel Mulder's arm creeping around my waist. "I love you both very much, and Fox, you've been like another son to me." She smiles warmly at us, pausing before going on. "Melissa first noticed the care and understanding you share." I raise my eyebrows. "Why didn't you say anything before?" I take Mulder's hand in mine, squeezing it lightly. "Because you had to find out for yourself. You've been through some tough times, and I thought they would help you realize your feelings. But I was wrong, they just brought you closer." "I didn't want to admit it," Mulder says, shyly, "I was so scared of loosing you again..." His voice trails off. I glance tenderly at him and I lean in to kiss him, but remember my mom. I look over at her and she rolls her eyes. "Oh, go ahead, Dana. I've walked in on worse." I smile and timidly kiss him, then realize what she just said. I look at her quizzically, furrowing my eyebrows at her. "Bill and Dawn? Remember her?" "Duckface?" "No, Mustache-woman." She smiles and I giggle at the memories of my brother's early girlfriends. Boy, did I give him hell over each and every one of them, playing the annoying little sister as usual. It's now Mulder's turn to look puzzled. I shake my head at him in a 'doesn't-matter' kind of way and he shrugs, leaving the subject to us. "I walked in on them making love in his bedroom. Your father was not best pleased." She sighs. I nod, remembering Dad grounding Bill for a month, calling Mustache-woman a whore and suchlike and not quite understanding what had happened. Missy told me a few days later that Bill and Dawn had been caught kissing. I remember being horrified. "Anyway, I'd better leave you two alone. You have a lot to talk about." She rises from her seat, picking up the clothes she left on the floor as she heads out towards the kitchen. "Thanks Mom." I call after her. She looks back, giving me the biggest smile I've seen her give me in a long time. I lean back onto Mulder and he holds me close. I snake my arms loosely around his neck, closing my eyes. "I really like your mom," says Mulder after a long silence. "I didn't know she thought about us like that," I breathe. "Well that's not entirely true. I just thought she was trying to marry me off, get me out of the way." "And now?" I crane my head up to face him. "Now I love you, Fox Mulder," I smile, "And as soon as I'm fit enough, I'm going to show you just how much." His chuckle vibrates through both of us. I sigh again, resting my head back onto his chest. As I said before, I can't wait until I'm better. I really can't. La fini. Write me! I'm in need of a little reassurance that my writing isn't all really terrible.