I'd finally taken the vacation everyone had been telling me I needed. Rather than go away to some island or something, by myself, I decided to go and spend some quality time with my mom. I was going to spend the first week with her and then decide what to do with the second week. He called me every day that I was gone. I almost expected him to. He didn't call the first night I was gone and I kicked myself for feeling disappointed. What the hell was wrong with me anyway? I couldn't go one day without talking to him? Pathetic. After all, we were just friends. However, he'd become a habit for me. A comfortable one. It was weird that he wasn't with me. He called the next day, and we chatted. I could tell something was bothering him but he wasn't talking.

Now, I'm standing in the hallway at work, outside the cracked open door to A.D. Skinner's secretary's office. I can't see him but I know he's sitting there. I can see A.D. Skinner's secretary, Janey. She is smiling coquetishly at him and it bothers the shit out of me. What the hell am I doing here? I'm on vacation. I know what I'm doing here. I had to see him and I couldn't wait until tonight. He's obviously been summoned and is waiting, never a good sign.

I hear Janey clear her throat. "So, Fox, when is your partner coming back? Do you need a dinner partner?"
"Mulder."
"Huh?"

He repeats himself slowly, as if talking to a child and I smile. "Mul..der. Call me Mul..der. No one calls me by my first name. Only my mother, and I didn't like it when she did it either, but she was my mother."

Janey shrinks back in her chair and I can see she is chagrined at having made a mistake. She obviously likes him and is attracted to him and now she's gone too far and tried to be too personal. She tries again.
"I'm sorry, Agent Mulder", she stresses his title and name. "I didn't know it was that sensitive of a subject and I won't presume to be so familiar in the future." Her speech is clipped and her frustration, showing as anger, comes through even though she is trying to hide it behind her professionalism now.
I hear his voice from the other side of the room. "No, I'm sorry Janey, I shouldn't be pissy with you. I'm just in a bad mood. But I meant what I said. Call me Mulder, but you can lose the Agent business. Just call me Mulder, please."
He had completely ignored her 'dinner partner' comment.
She sighs. "O.K., Mulder, why are you in a bad mood?"
"I don't really want to discuss it right now. Nothing personal."
"I think it is personal," she says.
"What?"
"I said I think it is personal. I think you miss your partner dreadfully and don't want to admit it. You are always cranky when she's gone. That's what I think."
"Do you now? Well, that would be none of your business now would it?"
Just then the door to Skinner's office opens and he is ushered inside. I decide to go down to the office and wait.

Just then he comes in and stops short when he sees me. I turn my head and grin at him, casually pointing to the ceiling. He looks, shrugging sheepishly, turns and shuts the door and strolls up to the front of the desk. He's smiling. That sexy little grin that always makes my heart turn over in my chest. The grin that says, 'I'm so glad to see you.' He arches an eyebrow at my position in a silent question.
"I couldn't resist the temptation anymore. I had to know what it felt like to sit on this side and not have my knees banging up against the front of the desk while I try to talk to you." He chuckles.
"Well, stay there and enjoy it." He promptly grabs my chair and slides it over and plops down, tossing a file on the desk. I stick my hand out to catch it from falling off the desk as it slides across the blotter. He raises his eyebrow again and inclines his head toward the file.
Just to see how he will react, I say firmly, "No, Fox."
"No?"
"That's right, No. N-O, Fox. I'm on vacation."
"Then what are you doing here?" Good question. He didn't correct me. He didn't tell me to call him Mulder. What is that all about? What am I doing here? Before I even realize I'm having the thought, the words are coming out of my mouth.

"I just stopped by to see if you wanted to have dinner with me tonight." 'Am I competing with Janey? No, I don't need to. The name thing, the dinner thing, I'm losing my cool on a regular basis. I need to know he reacts differently to me than the other women in his life. Why is that?.'

He stares at me, that stare that bores into my skull, like he can see inside. He scrunches his eyebrows and looks perplexed, then purses his lips. God, I can never take my eyes off him when he purses his lips like that.

I can barely hear him when he asks, "Why?"
I turn to him. "Why? Because I've been gone for a week and now I'm back, and I don't feel like eating alone tonight, especially since I'm on vacation and supposed to be enjoying myself."
He is silent for a moment and asks again. "Why?"
I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Damn him for always being able to tell when I'm lying, or holding back. I take another deep breath and blurt out, "Because I missed you Mulder, and I didn't want to wait another week to see you." My voice is rising in volume in response to my embarrassment. I can't believe I said that, or the next thing that comes out of my mouth. "Is that O.K. with you? Is that a good enough excuse? I didn't know I needed one in the first place to ask my friend to dinner." 'Why am I angry? I sound petulant.'

He is tipping his head to one side as if he were examining a particularly interesting piece of evidence. It's the same look. I turn away, flop my legs to the ground, stand up abruptly and head around the desk for the door. "You know what? Forget it. Just forget it."

As I go to indignantly stalk out past my chair, then one he is sitting in, I am stopped short and suddenly. His arm had darted out and caught me across the top of my thighs. He is so fast, I can't even respond as his arm wraps around my legs, tilts my hips backward and sends me tumbling over the arm of the chair into his lap, ass down. My only response is a shriek of distress at loosing my balance and my control.

I sit in his lap, one hand on his shoulder, the other reaching for the arm of chair to right myself. He reaches out and grabs my hand, returning it to my lap. He looks at me for a long few seconds. "What the hell, Mulder?"
"Yes."
The non-sequitar King strikes again. "Yes? Yes, what? What the hell is going on in that head of yours anyway?" A question I ask him frequently. He grins.
"Yes, I would love to have dinner with you tonight."
"Maybe I don't want to anymore."
"I missed you too."
"Yeah, I bet. You've probably been having a ball around here with nobody to yank on your leash." "My leash?"
"You know what I mean." I am suddenly embarrassed to be sitting like this and make another attempt to sit upright and gain my feet. Both of his arms snake around my waist and haul me up closer to him. His right arm snakes down my thigh over my skirt and then tugs my calves closer to his body. I'm almost in a fetal position now.
"Mulder, what the hell are you doing? Let me up."
"No."
"No? Why not?" I get the 'you can figure this one out, Scully' look. "O.K., I want to have dinner, I'm glad you accepted. Now can I get up?"
"Not yet."
"For god sakes Mulder, someone could walk in here at any minute. This wouldn't look too good. Now let me up."
"In a second, and the door is locked anyway." Now it's my turn to scrunch my eyebrows into a question. Of course, he doesn't answer me. He pulls my torso into his chest, and bends his head into the crook of my neck. God help me, I can feel his hot breath on my neck and I can't stop the shiver that runs down my spine. I know he felt it. My nipples get hard as little pebbles and I hope to hell that he can't feel them through his shirt. I hear him inhaling deeply.
"Mulder, what is the matter with you?!" My voice is harsh to cover my physical response.
"You always smell so good, like baby powder and cinnamon." His voice is low and husky. His hot breath in my ear is causing alarming rivers of warmth to travel from my neck down my body and lodge between my legs. This is not good. This is not good at all. What the hell is happening here? This was not my intention. How did he know I used baby powder everyday in my armpits to dry my deodorant and a shampoo with cinnamon scent? He doesn't, but he knows the smells.
"Thank you. I'm glad that you are happy with my hygiene, now can I get up?" Again, he doesn't answer me, he just nuzzles my neck. "Mulder, what is going on?" I am starting to panic a little now.
I can barely hear him when he says, "Stop me. You can anytime you want, ya know?" I know he's right too and somehow I am frozen in place. My legs dangle over the arm of the chair, my chest is pressed up against his and I can't pull away from the feeling of his breath on my neck. "Stop me," he whispers. He's waiting for me to respond. He's giving me a chance to pull away and stop him. I take a deep breath and turn my head away from him. This only gives him more of my neck to play with, and he reaches up and runs his thumb up the column of my throat. Now I can't talk at all. I just squeak. He gently caresses my neck with his fingertips. What is he doing? Is he crazy? God, that feels good.
Softly, almost under his breath, I hear him say, "God, Scully, it feels so good to hold you." 'Alright, that's it. I try to sit up straighter to regain some control. I feel his legs shift and I gasp the same time he sucks his breath through his teeth as I feel his erection, the one I didn't know he had, pressing into my bottom. I don't dare move. There is silence for about 30 seconds, neither of us moving.
God my head is in the gutter. I remember last year overhearing that bitch Fowley talking to another female agent who had the hots for Mulder. There were at the sinks in the bathroom and didn't know I was in the stall. The young agent obviously knew Mulder's history with Fowley. The young, pretty blonde agent had asked a particularly crude question. 'You've been with him, tell me, what's he got? Is he as long as he is tall?' Diana had cackled out loud, amused rather than offended. Then, she said, 'well, all I'll tell you is...he's got plenty, more than plenty, actually more than you'll ever need!' They had giggled and then Diana said. 'you can probably forget it, he's stuck on that partner of his like a dog on a meat wagon.' They had laughed and left the lav. I had sat there taking a pee and wondering why talking about Mulder as an object bothered me. Or why I even cared. I knew most women thought he was incredibly good looking. So what? And stuck on me? Hardly, I exasperated the hell out of him and vice versa.

Finally he leans into my ear again, interrupting my day dream and asks, "What time?"
"Huh?" is all I manage to croak out.
"What time for dinner?"
"Oh, uh, how's 7:00?"
"Perfect. Do I pick you up?"
"No, just come to my apartment."
He raises an eyebrow at this. "I thought you wanted to go out to dinner."
"Actually, I wanted to cook you dinner." Did I?
"You cook?" He looks genuinely surprised.
I do my best to look offended and retort, "Of course I cook." "O.K., . . . now you can get up." His grip loosens and I hop to my feet. He doesn't even look at his lap. He doesn't acknowledge that fact that he has a very stiff hard on straining against his dress pants. He doesn't even seem bothered or embarrassed at all that I know. He has a blank look on his face. I glance at his lap and look away quickly.
"I'll see you at 7:00." I quickly turn the lock on the door and leave, closing it behind me quickly without looking back. I pause in the hallway to get a grip on myself taking deep breaths. What just happened in there? He loves to tease me, that's all it was. That's when I hear a long, low, groan from the other side of the door. It sends more shivers up my spine.
I should leave. Shouldn't I? I shouldn't stay here. This is the second time today I've eavesdropped. This is getting to be a habit, but I can't move. It's like somebody put crazy glue on the bottom of my shoes. I'm rooted to the spot, my hand still on the door. Then I hear him, just barely, talking to himself. "God help me, Scully, you don't have any idea what you do to me."
I break out of my trance and trot quietly away from door. I don't know how to process that. What do you do after hearing something like that? You can't forget it. You can pretend you never heard it. I'll have to. And what about his arousal? Can I pretend that never happened? I sure as hell am not going to be able to forget it. I tell myself, just get home and sort this out there. I take the elevator to the basement, hop in my car and drive home on auto-pilot.

I got one whiff of her scent and was instantly getting hard. Christ, I go into a bakery and smell cinnamon and I get hard. It's such a smell I associate with her. For god sakes, you'd think I was some high school virgin with no control. Although, it has been a long time since I've had anyone to touch in any kind of intimate way. She teases me about the porn I watch or she ignores it. But it's either that or do things with people I really don't want to do things with, sooo, movies it is. I always end up fantasizing about her anyway.
I forget how tiny she is. She's usually wearing jackets with shoulder pads and high heels and standing ram rod straight. With no shoes on though, I can rest my chin on top of her head with room to spare. Today, all she had on was a cotton skirt and thin tank top. I could see her bra through it. When she was in my lap, I realized just how tiny she is - short, tiny waist, thin but well toned legs. But her breasts, oh god, they ride high on her chest like a girls and are so full for her small size. It's a toss up between the breasts and the lips, which one can tie my tongue in knots faster. The eyes can do it too. When I hauled her to my chest so I could try to keep her away from my growing arousal, she felt so soft. She didn't stop me,. That little squeak when I touched her neck, I thought for a second it was a physical reaction to my touching her, but it's probably wishful thinking. She was probably just freaked out. I'm good at doing that to her without even trying. But she didn't stop me either. I did notice the hardness of her nipples was showing through the tank top when she stood up. But who knows? Maybe it was cold in there. I was so hot, I wouldn't know. I know you care about me. Because I missed you Mulder...
What am I going to do? I realized the first time I almost lost her that I was in love with her. Completely, pathetically in love with her, and I was going to tell her. But then she was well again and looking me in the face and I couldn't do it. I couldn't risk our friendship. I couldn't take the chance that she would walk out of my life and not even want to work with me. That would kill me. But..., on the other hand, I've tipped my hand. I know I have. I used to just get shivers when she touched me. Then I graduated to hot flashes where I had to walk away or she would see my face and see the heat there. I've spent years hiding my feelings for her and it's getting tougher. Now, I can't even touch her at all, without feeling my groin tighten. This afternoon was proof of that. What's going on in that pretty head of yours, Scully?
Innuendo and teasing are one thing. She will sometimes play along but never lets it go too far. Well, guess it's on to the cold shower and get dressed. I have to get rid of this hard-on that crops up every time I think of her. I decided to wear my oldest, worn out pair of jeans. They are a little snug in the thighs, but loose in the waist and groin area from long use and many washes. I hope if I get excited, it won't show so much as it did in my dress slacks. Christ, I hope she doesn't mention it. What the hell would I say? She won't. She was probably repulsed and mortified.
No, we'll both ignore it, and pretend it didn't happen, just like we do with so many of our feelings and reactions to each other. At least that's the case with me. Deny everything. PART 2: (RATED R)

My brain won't shut down.
I keep hearing my mother 's voice in my head. After Mulder had called for the fourth day in a row, she said, 'If that man's love for you wasn't so beautiful, it would be pathetic.' I argued with her. I told her Mulder had no interest in me that way. That we were partners, we were colleagues, we were friends, but that was where it ended. Mom had just shook her head and replied, 'Ya know, darling, for a smart woman, you can be incredibly dense.'

I'd been so offended and sputtered on about how she didn't know anything about my life anymore and that's why I'd come up there to fix that. Yes, I cared about Mulder and he cared about me, but it would never go beyond friendship. She had just looked at me and said, 'I know you have to figure it out for yourself, and nobody could ever tell you anything anyway - just like your father. But you mark my words. Fox Mulder is in love with you and someday he's going to get tired of behaving himself, so don't be surprised when the day comes that he just grabs you and puts you in a lip lock.' 'MOM!' I'd cried. She had shocked me with her precise, no nonsense account of what would happen when Mulder stopped behaving himself. I'd had dreams about what Mulder would do if he stopped behaving himself. I didn't need her help in that area. I been spending the better part of the last two or three years suppressing any 'inappropriate' thoughts about my partner. Now my mother was displaying them as though they were laid out on the coffee table, and they were perfectly O.K. I thought I'd hid them so well. This was not the mother I was used to, the one that was quiet and supportive and didn't argue with me and never asked about my love life.
Then she told me a shocker. Mulder had tried to quit the Bureau when I was gone. After I was first abducted by Duane Barry. Why hadn't he told me? Quit? For what? My mother had looked at me like I was the densest person on earth. She said, "Because he didn't want to work without you, Dana. Skinner and I had run into each other in the hospital when you were returned. He had confided in me then, that he 'thought he'd lost him.' He told me he wouldn't accept his resignation, but gave him a leave of absence. Later when Fox arrived at the hospital, Mom asked him about it during one of those quiet moments. She'd asked, 'Why would you quit the Bureau, that's not what Dana would want.' All he'd said was, 'She has to get better, without her, everything's just pointless.' I knew then Dana, I knew then that he was in love with you, even if he didn't realize it himself."
Then she'd said the thing that disturbed me the most - 'Be careful Dana. Think about it. Love - true love comes along only once in a lifetime, . . . if you're lucky. Some people never find it because they are too busy planning their life and they don't see it when it comes around, and then it's gone. Or they get hung up on some stupid "rule" they think is the end all and be all of life instead of listening to what their experience and their heart tells them. They wait too long, and they've missed their chance. You are lucky to have someone love you as much as he does. I know you love him. Don't let him get away, Dana. I don't want to see you end up alone.'

I'd went on and on about how our relationship was professional. He'd probably just quit because he felt it was his fault that I was taken. She'd said I couldn't fool her. She'd seen the way I'd look at him and the way he'd looked at me. I'd said that even if there was something there, it was one-sided, which I didn't think there was anything there anyway. She'd said 'Stop lying to yourself.' I'd gotten mad and ended with, besides, it was against bureau policy for partners to fraternize with one another, etc., etc. Mom had burst out into a belly laugh. 'Fraternize? Fraternize? Is that the term they use?' I hadn't seen what was so funny.
When her mirth was under control she gave me a sad look and said something else I'd never heard come out of her mouth . . . 'Fuck the Bureau.' I was too stunned at hearing that word come out of her mouth that I was unable to respond. I just sat there with my mouth hanging open. She continued. 'Jobs come and jobs go, you could end up practicing medicine, or just be in another division of the bureau if you couldn't work together, so what? Having someone to share your life with is more important than any job, Dana. And if you don't know that, if you don't feel that in your heart, then I feel sorry for you.' With that, she turned on her heel and left the room. All I could think was she didn't tell me to close my mouth or I'd catch flies. What happened to that Mom? She was tired of waiting for her little girl to grow up in the ways that counted. I had cried then, just sat there and cried. I was so confused. My feelings for him were wrong, inappropriate. But I couldn't get rid of them. I knew in my heart that I didn't want anyone else. Was that love? I didn't want to end up alone.
That night I had the dream again. I was having sex with a man. I couldn't see his face. His chest was rubbing on mine. He was so tall, his head was above mine. In the dream I strain my head back to look up into his face to see who this magnificent man is who is making me tremble. And it's Mulder's face, shining with desire and love for me. I hear his voice like an echo, 'I love you so much."
I woke up, the rippling spasms of an orgasm rocking my body. I am covered with sweat as usual. I gulp for air and then sank back down onto the mattress, groaning to myself, "Christ, how many times am I going to have this dream?"

I holler out to the door, "Just a sec, I'll be right there." I pick up the discarded clothes and toss them into my closet and shut the door, quickly strip off my underwear and bra and throw them in with the clothes in the bottom of the closet and throw the dress over my head. It settles on my shoulders, the fitted bodice hugs my breasts, but not too tight and falls loosely around my waist. I shrug, slide my feet into my flat, flip-flop type sandals and trotted to the door.

Taking a deep breath, I swing the door wide and . . . 'Good God! No one has a right to look that good! He's standing with his shoulder leaning casually against the doorjamb, obviously waiting for me to open the door. "Hi, Scully," he says. "Hi, yourself," I shoot back. His hair is combed, but that errant lock that never wants to stay put is falling carelessly across his forehead. He has two bottles of wine dangling from the fingers of his left hand, holding them by the necks. His other hand is across his chest, lying lightly on his ribs. He is wearing nothing special, rather worn out jeans in fact and a thick, white tee shirt. But those jeans are slung low on his hips and they are snug on his thighs. His shirt is snug too, not tight, but snug and I see every muscle in his stomach and his chest. My eyes travel from his face down his torso, hungrily taking in the sight of him. I slide my view down to his legs. I have an incredibly stupid urge to run my hand down those thighs. I look at the top of his legs and can't help thinking, I wonder what's in there?
I realize that I am staring and force myself to look up at his eyes, blushing as I do so. He has that silly, lop-sided grin on again, and I feel the flop in my chest. "Can I come in or were you going to serve dinner out here in the hallway?"
"Oh, God, sorry". I back away and sweep my hand into the living room. He pushes away from the doorjamb and walks slowly into the living room, stopping just short of the coffee table, where he bends down to set the bottles on the coffee table. He walks like a panther when he isn't in a hurry - so much ease and grace - not to mention how great his ass looks.
"I bought a red, Cabernet Sauvignon, and a white, some local stuff. Didn't know what you were making. Was afraid to ask." This last is said in a teasing voice and I immediately rise to the challenge, since I want to gloss over my 'oh so obvious' perusal of his body in the doorway a minute earlier.
"Ah, you think you know me, Agent Mulder, but I have hidden talents." That didn't sound right.
He smiles broadly now, enjoying the flirt. He's much better at this than I am. "Do you now, Agent Scully? And what talents would those be?" I'm stumped. God I suck at this, never did learn how to flirt.
"Uh, well, food for a start."
"You eat food, good for you."
"I make food . . . I mean I can cook . . . food. . ." There goes his eyebrow again, quirking up on one side as he waits, amused, for me to finish my sentence. I'm embarrassed now, my normally glib repetoir deserting me when I need it most. "I took gourmet cooking classes once," I blurt out, in a vain attempt to salvage my dignity. It's pretty much in shreds at this point and I look at the floor, suddenly feeling like crying and not knowing why. I can feel the sting in my eyes and I squeeze them shut tightly so as not to let a tear escape. I can't even look up at him.
Before I know it, he's beside me and wrapping his arms around me and tipping my chin up to look him, which I try to return to the floor. He won't let me. My bottom lip is quivering, but the tears are contained. "God, Dana, I'm sorry. I was just teasing you. I didn't know it was a sore subject." 'Dana? Did he call me Dana?' I sniffle and shake my head and look down again.
"No, I don't know what's the matter with me. I know I'm not the picture of domesticity and it usually doesn't matter what anyone thinks of my home skills, but. . ., but . .I just wanted ... for you... " I have no idea where I'm going with this, so I stop. All I can do right now is think about the fact that his legs are lightly brushing against mine, and his arms are wrapped around my shoulders.
"I'm sorry, Dana, look at me." It's a command.
I look up and he brushes his thumb across my quivering bottom lip. I suck in a sharp breath and catch the lip under my top teeth. His thumb worries at it until it slips from my teeth and he rubs his thumb across it again. It's like an electrical current tingles my lip wherever he touches it. All I can do is stare like a deer stuck in the headlights. He leans in close to my face and tips his head away from my lips at the last second to bring his lips to my ear. God I hate it when he does this. I love it when he does this. He smells like pungent fresh air and soap. "I'm sure whatever it is it'll be delicious and even it isn't, it'll beat the pizza and beer I was going to have tonight."
I smile in spite of my embarrassment. "Sorry, Mulder, I don't know what happened."
"Stop apologizing and let's eat."
"O.K."

"So the bottom number, the dystolic pressure measures the pressure in the artery after it contracts, at its lowest point, see, so . . ."
Quietly, "You're driving me crazy, Scully." I stopped and stared at him, not sure what he meant.
"If you don't stop squirming, I'm going to have to come over there and hold you down and I don't think you want that." 'Yeah, I do want that, actually. Do I?' His voice is perfectly calm, perfectly reasonable, and to an outsider what would look like a blank look on his face. I knew better. He was teasing, but he was serious too. He would carry out his threat. Maybe I should let him.
"Uh, then, what would you suggest?" He carefully placed his wineglass on the coffee table, and casually reached down and plucked up one of the thin decorative pillows that belonged to the couch and had been tossed on the floor before we sat. He used the toes of one foot to kick off one sneaker and then the other. He looked at me with that 'This is a challenge to see what you will do' look. Then he spun his butt on couch, threw one leg up flush with the back of the couch, the other on the floor, and put the pillow between his legs. He leaned back on the arm of the couch, picked up his wineglass, raised an eyebrow at me and slowly took a sip of his wine. He was watching over the rim of his glass. I was frozen. This seemed to be a recurring event, . . . muscle lock. He patted the pillow with his free hand.
Do it, Dana! I hesitated about 5 seconds, then put down my wine glass, spun around backwards and grabbed his ankles with my hands and scootched back between his legs and reclined onto the pillow. Silence. My hands were still on his ankles. He reached out and swiped up my wineglass and handed it to me over my shoulder. "Relax, Scully, I'm not going to bite you."
"Sorry," I mumbled, taking the glass from him and leaning back a bit more. He brought his other leg up on the couch and slowly slid it down brushing my hip and down my thigh. I repressed a shiver. Even in this position, his long legs reach to just below my knees. It struck me how much taller he was than I am. I didn't pay attention to it most of the time. Each of his legs was lowered and now rested below my arms. I let my arms rest on his thighs. Just the heat of his legs was making me feel languid.
"I don't want to talk about work anymore. Let's talk about something else," he said.
"Hmm, O.K., what do you want to talk about?"
"Tell me about your trip to your mother's place." Uh oh. How do I talk about this?
"Let's see, well, we spent a wonderful 6 days together. We laughed and talked and shopped and then got on each other's nerves. Then she forgot I'm 34 years old and tried to tell me what to do about my job and my love life and then I left." Succinct, I thought.
"Ahh, moms never stop being moms, do they?"
"No, I guess not, but it gets old after a while. Contrary to common belief, they don't always know what's best for you."
"No? Why? What did she suggest?" I chuckled. There was no good way to get out of this one and I knew he wouldn't let it go. He never does.
"She said a lot of things." Neutral.
"Like what?"
"Oh, I don't know, it was all mommy bunk anyway."
"Mommy bunk?" He laughed. "I never heard that one before." He chuckled again and I felt it vibrate through my torso. He so rarely laughed. It brought a smile to my face even though he couldn't see it. I was finding this position interesting. I could touch him, innocently, and yet, I found that it was easier to say things to him when I wasn't looking at him. That face unnerved me. His eyes could immobilize me. I seemed to be especially sensitive tonight to every move he made. I took another sip of wine. Then he said, "Summarize."
He was always popping out these questions in a delayed reaction. It always took me a second to catch up. Ah, we were playing the question and answer game. "What?"
"Summarize what your mother told you - summarize the 'lots of things' that she said."
"Hmmm, well, basically she um..."
"Well, basically she um? Very articulate, Scully." Now I was chuckling.
"Give me a minute." He waited patiently, sipping his wine. I felt his legs squeeze my thighs a little, real gentle. Not even sure it happened. It did. My body's response was immediate. I felt the sweat break out on my hairline and the heat spread throughout my abdomen. 'Christ, this was ridiculous.' The thoughts running through my head. '. . .you have no idea what you do to me.' 'You always smell so good, baby powder and cinnamon. It feels so good to hold you . . . you can stop me . . .'
"Scully?"
"Oh, yeah, well, basically she said . . . Fuck the Bureau and get a love life."
He choked. He sat straight up, wrapping one arm around my waist and holding his wineglass out over the table to keep from spilling. I felt him cough a couple more times, clear his throat. He set his wineglass down and started laughing. "Did she really say that?"
"Yup."
It was contagious. I started laughing. Soon we had tears streaming down our faces. "God bless your mother, she is a trip!" He swiped his face with his hand and brought it down to rest on my shoulder. My mirth died instantly as tingling started from his hand and spread down my arm. I flinched and he removed his hand.
Before I knew what I was saying, the words came out. I whispered, "It's O.K." God I have to admit this. I want him to touch me. I want it badly. He tentatively placed his hand back on my shoulder. Silence. Moments passed and he scooted back so he was sitting more upright with his back to the armrest. I felt the arm around my waist tighten and he pulled me back into his chest.
The pillow was gone. The shock of feeling my bare skin exposed in the dip of my dress against his tee shirt was jarring. Heat! I tensed. His hands fell on my shoulders and started to knead the muscles. "Relax, Scully. " I couldn't suppress a groan and the tension slid out of my back and I slumped against him. He continued to work my muscles in my shoulders, occasionally sliding his thumbs up the cords in the back of my neck. I was limp now.
It felt so good. I said so. "God, Mulder, that feels so goo...ood." He stilled, then started working down on my shoulder blades. I leaned forward and moaned again. After a minute or two, he stopped, cupped my shoulders and pulled me against him again. I could feel him slide his hips down a bit and I reclined a little more, my hands resting on his thighs. I wasn't consciously thinking at that moment. I was enjoying the heat of his body. I started raking my nails lightly on his jeans, down the top of his thighs. My elbows were touching his hips. I heard the sharp intake of his breath and stopped. He breathed out and whispered, "It's O.K." My own words coming back to haunt me. I froze for a beat and then laid my palms on his thighs and began sliding them slowly up and down the outside of his thighs, real slow. He's hard again, I can feel it, because I touched his legs.
The thoughts again. 'What the hell has gotten into me? God, his heat feels so good.' His hands came to rest on my waist, his thumbs rubbing slightly against the small of my back. His hands were so big; the thumbs almost met in the middle my back. One hand slid slowly up and inside the open back of my dress, around the front and began caressing the skin of my rib cage. I tensed a little but he didn't stop. He whispered, "you're so soft." I could hear him breathing a bit heavy.
I sucked in a sharp breath. "Wha, what are you do..doing, Mul...der?" Great, I'm stuttering.
"You can stop me, Dana." Do I want to? He brought his hand down to my navel and caressed the skin. I don't have any underwear on! His hand brushed back up my stomach and his thumb skimmed along the bottom of my breast. I gasped. He holds still for a heartbeat or two. I can feel his heartbeat on my back. It's rapid. I can't stop him. Please, Mulder, touch me. He does. His hand slides up and cups my breast and squeezes gently, then his thumb rakes over my nipple and it becomes instantly hard as a pebble and protruding into him palm. I moan -- I can't help it -- low, long, and loud. 'When did I start wanting him so much? Wanting him to touch me? When did he start making me feel like a beautiful woman instead of just his partner? Oh, god, I just felt a gush of warmth between my legs.' "Oh God, Mulder..."

I'm breathing very shallow right now, afraid to move. He's asked his question. I can hardly remember what it was. I take a calm steadying breath and twist around to look at him. He lets go of my head and lets me turn. 'Oops, shouldn't have done that. I'm staring into those bottomless green/hazel eyes and they are dark, his lids are at half-mast, his lips are wet and look so soft. They are parted slightly, and I can see the tip of his tongue between his teeth. That lock of hair is falling across his forehead. My god, has any creature ever looked this sexy? Do I want to be cured? Don't think, Dana. Don't think.

'I can see the desire on his face. I feel the heat pouring off him. But is that what it is? Lust, desire? No, he said make love to me. But that would mean, by his own definition that he ... no, ... that he's ... in love with me? Is that possible? Mom, where are you now?
He's still staring at me. Watching me watching him. He has gone still, as though afraid to startle me. 'What was the question?' 'Slap his face and call him a lunatic?'
"Dana?" He reaches up again and puts his hands on the side of neck this time. His eyes lock with mine. He waits.
"I don't think . . ."
"Don't think, just tell me what you feel."
"It's so crazy in some ways Mulder, but I don't think ...I could...I can't."

He folds in on himself a bit, his head hangs down and he looks at his lap. I realize he has taken this as a rejection. Did I mean it to be? No! Suddenly, I can't let him think that. Just feel. He's pulling away. It isn't what I want. Damn the consequences. I rephrase my answer.

"Mulder, I don't think I could push you away." My voice is barely above a whisper.

WHAT? Am I hallucinating again. I look up at her. She doesn't think she could push me away? She doesn't think she could push me away! God my head is swimming. I want to make love to her more than anything I've ever wanted in my life. I'm dizzy. My heart is beating a mile a minute. She is so beautiful right now, staring into my eyes, I can't breath.

Pull her in, Fox! That's right, Dumbo, nothing happens if you don't move. God, she isn't pulling away. I am two seconds away from kissing her when I get bitten by the milk-toast asshole bug and I've got to tell her how I feel and give her one last chance to walk away. The way I feel might frighten her. I'm an utter idiot, but I have to tell her. I have to make sure she wants this. The only thing worse than not being able to touch her would be to touch her and have her regret it the next day. I couldn't take that. If we do this, I know I'll never be able to look back. I'll be lost. She has the power to utterly destroy me.