Six to Sex by Mish

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Six to Sex by Mish

Six to Sex

A series of steps to physical intimacy.M/S UST, RST

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Thanks to Sybil and Musea for beta and support.

Summary: The answer to the age-old question, at least as far as they’re concerned.

Haven Fic Challenge, September 23, 2002

I.

The Chicken or the Egg?

“Spontaneous or premeditated?” Scully sipped at her coffee, her gloved hands wrapped around it for warmth. “Hmm.”

After a moment or two of silence, Mulder grumbled, “It’s not like I asked you to actually do this, you know.” No way would he ever have sex with Scully. For one thing, he didn’t feel that way about her. Well, not much. Granted, she was nice-looking, and he’d be a fool not to notice that classic face and those sloping curves beneath those suits… but no. No way. She was his partner. And he’d gone that route before, with disastrous results.

Cocking a brow, she turned her head toward him. “Then why didyou ask?”

One thumb jabbed at the window button, and he pinged a sunflower shell off the side mirror before answering. “Well, it’s about 20 degrees outside. We’re sitting here at two in the morning, waiting for someone who’s probably looking at us from one of these apartments, laughing his ass off.” Rolling up the window, he brought his cell phone back up, pressing redial. “And I’m bored.” His grin challenged her, and he was rewarded by the ‘I’m game’ twinkle in her eye.

“In that case, I’d better cooperate,” she replied with a yawn. “Wouldn’t want you to fall asleep.”

He rolled his eyes, knowing that was an impossibility. An insomniac of the first order, he was used to long, sleepless nights. She, on the other hand, looked like she was about to nod off at any second.

“Okay, then.” She sagged a bit, drawing a deep breath before emptying her cup. “What was the question again?”

He knew that she knew damn well what the question was, but he spoke it again, letting the cell phone drop to his chin as he listened to the constant ring. “If we ever had sex, would it be spontaneous or premeditated?”

She let her empty cup drop to the floor board and pulled her coat closer to her body. Her voice was cool, the usual tone for a rational discussion of facts. He didn’t expect it to be any different, and he sat back for the ride on the train of logic.

“Premeditation assumes an established relationship, in my opinion. A conscious, rational decision to enter into a physical joining of bodies… planned and agreed upon by both parties after the usual events leading up to said intimacy, and involving some sort of emotional attachment that goes deeper than mere friendship -”

“Jesus, Scully,” he interrupted, “only you could make having sex sound like a course on human psychology.”

“Sex has everything to do with human psychology, Mulder. You know that.”

“It also has everything to do with human physiology.” He was gratified to see her eyes narrow at his wink.

“I hear the word ‘boobs’ come out of your mouth, Mulder, and you’re a dead man.”

“So it’s okay to say ‘ta-ta’s’?”

Scully punched him in the arm and he opened his mouth in a mock ‘Ow’. “I need some sleep, Mulder.” Curling up on her seat, she closed her eyes. “Wake me if Pusher comes to call.”

Chuckling, he answered, “Will do, partner. Just don’t drool on me.” One ear to his phone, he peered at the phone booth at the far end of the parking lot. “You still didn’t answer my question.”

“Later, Mulder,” she mumbled, already half asleep.

“I’d file that under ‘spontaneity’.”

His sarcasm was rewarded with a soft snore.

II.

The Old Bait and Switch

She watched with a sorrowful eye at the droop of his shoulders. In the late afternoon sunshine, a shadow of stubble on his face, he looked lost as he trudged to the car. They separated at the rear bumper and she breathed his name while waiting for him to unlock the doors.

“It’s open,” he said, ignoring her entreaty as he flopped into the driver’s side seat.

She didn’t want to let it go; the episode with Van Blundht laid between them like a roadblock. She knew what Mulder had seen, what it looked like. But she wanted him to know what it had actually been, even if she ended up hurting his feelings. The month since the incident had flown by, with them treating each other as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. But she knew better – and all it took was one look at Mulder’s face as he’d left the visitor’s area and she could see how much he believed Van Blundht’s proclamation. He was not a loser, certainly not in her eyes.

Tread carefully, she told herself.

Harkening back to an old conversation, a more relaxed time, she sighed, buckling her seatbelt.

“That whole night… the way things happened… I’d call that premeditated, wouldn’t you?” At his sharp glance, she amended, “On his part, I mean.” In other words, how was she to know? Surely he could see she’d been duped by the calculated little man? After all, she was as susceptible to charm as the next woman.

Mulder paused in the act of putting the car in reverse, but only for a second. In the next instant, he turned, laying his arm across the seat to look behind the vehicle. Slowly accelerating, he replied, “I agree. It’s not my type of premeditation, that’s all.”

And she should have known that, she heard in his tone. “Okay, then,” she said, slowly edging through the crack in his simmering anger. “Care to tell me what constitutes genuine ‘Mulder seduction’?”

Facing front, he yanked the gear shift into drive and squealed out of the reformatory parking lot. “Seduction? I thought we were talking premeditation.”

Scully steeled her jaw at his deliberate attempt at an argument. “Premeditation, in this case, amounts to seduction, don’t you think?”

“Not exactly,” he parried, eyes straight ahead. “Seduction implies that some enticement is involved. That I’d have to tempt you into having sex with me, to lure you somehow. The mere use of the word premeditation assumes that both parties would be willing. To me, anyway.”

“Did I look like I was willing?”

“You looked stoned, actually.”

“So maybe seduction was the wrong choice of words.” She was beginning to get a headache, but she didn’t want Mulder to see her fumble in her bag for her pain pills. He had enough to deal with without being reminded of her health problems.

“Actually, I don’t think it was.” A small smile flitted over his mouth. “I think he plied you with alcohol and with pretty words. That’s seduction.”

The pull of her cheeks on her face added to the pounding between her eyes, but she smiled anyway, happy he was relaxing a bit. “And definitely not Mulder premeditation, I take it?”

“Hell, no. I’ve never had to get a woman drunk to get some.”

“Get some?” She pretended offense at his words.

Mulder cleared his throat, heading for the nearest entrance to the freeway, a little slower than before. “I mean – to have mutually satisfying sexual relations.”

“I know what you meant, Mulder.” She put a hand on his arm and squeezed. “Just as I think I knew all along that man in my apartment – well, there was something odd going on. Why do you think I was just sitting there? You didn’t see me jump at the chance, did you?”

At that, he laughed. “I don’t know if I should be thankful or pissed at that remark, Scully.”

She chuckled as well, sensing their move back to normalcy. “Well, I’m not about to explain it any further.” To do so would lead them into more dangerous territory, and they both knew it. They were silent for a few moments as Mulder sped up onto the freeway. She was tired, but she was also treasuring the simple pleasure of just talking to him. Something she wouldn’t have for much longer, if her doctor was correct. And she had an awful feeling his diagnosis was right on the money.

“So… just out of curiosity… what would constitute Mulder premeditation?”

His gaze left the roadway for a second, latching onto hers in a thoughtful, warm look.

“Whatever the woman in question wanted.”

The husky statement sent a shiver up her spine. He wasn’t serious, he couldn’t be. Like always, he was playing, digging into her because she was a challenge. A convenient way to pass the time. She looked away, forcing humor into her reply.

“It wouldn’t be wine and flowers, then?”

“If I thought that was what she wanted, then I’d do it.” His voice rang out in the confines of the car. “‘Premeditation assumes an established relationship. A conscious, rational decision to enter into a physical joining of bodies… planned and agreed upon by both parties.’” He quoted her own words back to her, and she chanced a look his way, still seeing the mysterious glow in his eyes. “Like I said, whatever you wanted.”

You. The switch from ‘the woman’ to ‘she’ to ‘you’… a domino effect, deliberately designed to undermine her resolve, to make her open up to him as she’d done with his seductive twin. Suddenly, her voice had all the depth and weight of a strand of hair. “And what about what you want?” Her heart pounded in time with her head, but she was powerless to calm either.

Mulder held on to her with his gaze for another second, then he dragged his eyes back to the road, breaking the moment. His tone reflected the way he distanced himself, as it became light and playful.

“You’d really agree to premeditation that included beer and a guy movie?”

So he’d staggered back from the precipice; the relief she felt was minute compared to her disappointment. She squashed down the unwanted emotion, telling herself it was for the best. What good could come from this path, anyway? As long as they had each other, all else ceased to matter. She let herself fall away as well, finally giving in to the need for painkillers as she reached for her bag. “What? No popcorn?”

“Of course,” he said, waving a magnanimous hand, oblivious to the crinkling of her forehead. “No wine, though. Sorry.”

“I don’t need wine,” she replied truthfully, rubbing at the ache with one hand. “I’d settle for water.” Cradling the pills in her other hand, she let her voice drift into almost nothing, as the pain soared to enormous proportions. “Mulder… can we stop, please?”

He veered off the highway at the first drops of blood, his muttered, “Shit, Scully… hang on, partner,” echoing in her ringing ears.

III.

The Best Way to Generate Body Heat…

God, he was so cold. Not even Alaska had been this cold. Shedding his outerwear to wrap around Scully had left him with just a pair of thermal underwear and a fleece suit, now soaked through. But he wouldn’t change it for the world. Because she was alive. Just as cold as he was, but alive.

They’d made it back to the SnoCat with some difficulty, taking turns shouldering one another’s weight. Now, snuggled together in the front seat for warmth, they were beginning to create a bitchin’ percussion section with the chattering of their teeth. No fuel, no way to get back to the base he’d flown into, they were good and stuck.

“You say they know where you are?” Scully muttered, shivering under the single blanket they were sharing.

Despite the snow frozen on his cheeks, he couldn’t stop smiling. Or maybe, the smile was frozen on his face. Either way, he couldn’t hide his loopy happiness at having her back.

“Yep. Might take ‘em a while, but they’ll come for us. Especially since we left an SOS to beat all.” No way could a rescue aircraft miss that huge crater over the next hill.

What he omitted from his reassuring statement was the fact that the ship had left in a shower of snow, effectively covering their vehicle with a layer of ice, obscuring its color. He’d had to dig their way into the safety of the cab as she shivered nearby. The rescue had better come quick, or they’d find themselves entombed forever. It would be nearly impossible for anyone to find them, covered as they were by the unforgiving, blinding blanket of white.

Scully nodded, letting her eyes close. He would have none of that, grabbing her hands under the blanket to give her a shake. “Wake up.”

“Hmm?”

“Wake up, Scully,” he repeated. “We can’t sleep now. Too dangerous. Keep talking. We need to keep talking.”

Her eyes slipped open, and she grinned. Not a sarcastic, or even a playful grin. It mirrored his, making her look as if she’d had one too many glasses of wine. “Okay,” she purred. “So talk.”

He couldn’t feel anything but a dull sensation in his hands as they held hers, but he squeezed anyway, trying to hold her attention. “Hey, Scully?”

Even covered with frozen slimy stuff, she was so beautiful she took his breath away. Her eyes were bright, and her breath warm as she answered, “Yeah?”

“This could possibly constitute spontaneity, don’tcha think?”

“What?” For a second, her eyes glazed over as she tried to comprehend his meaning.

“I mean…” Mulder edged closer to her, his body wracked with tremors as he fought sleep. “I mean, spontaneous sexual combustion between us would probably be the result of some kind of life-threatening scenario.”

The conversation was years old, and he pulled it up over them again like a warm, electric blanket. She responded like she always had, with biting wit. Though this time, he saw a sparkle of need behind her reply.

“Good point.” Moving closer to him, she drew his hands to her chest. “However, I think neither of us are in any shape to test that theory with any physical strength, don’t you agree?”

But for the first time, he saw it there. Saw the possibility on her too-pale face. And it warmed him more than any blanket.

“Yeah, guess you’re right,” he agreed. “Kinda difficult to have sex when I can’t feel any of my lower extremities.” Especially the one that counted the most.

A short, breathy chuckle hit his face, then she sobered instantly. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

Groaning inwardly, he knew she’d become the doctor once again. “My feet are a little numb, that’s all.”

“Let me see.” Already, she was pulling away.

The blast of cold air that hit him when she lifted the blanket made him suck in a gasping breath. “Jesus, Scully,” he said, trying to avoid her probing. “It’s nothing.”

But his boots hit the floor with a thud as she quickly ignored his protests. Her hiss was loud in the cab of the truck as he closed his eyes, leaning against the door to quake with shivers.

“Where the hell are your socks?” she grumbled, intent on her task.

On your feet, he wanted to say, but then he’d have to explain how he took the time to take them off, and listen to… he hissed at the feel of her icy fingers on his ankle. At least he could feel that, though it only made him shiver more.

“Mulder, can you feel this?” A slight pressure on the sole of his foot. Not nearly enough, considering she was probably digging in with her fingers.

“Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Alarm ratcheted up the volume of her terse question. “What about this?”

He felt a dull pressure on his big toe. “Your fingernails,” he replied gently, bringing his knees up in an effort to avoid her examination. “It’s okay, Scully.”

“It’s not okay, Mulder.” He felt her pull his feet toward her. “You’re flirting with frostbite and I have to warm up your feet.” He heard her shift about on the seat, then she settled back down.

His eyes flew open; she’d sat on his feet! And God damn it if he didn’t suddenly have a hard-on that defied frostbite. How the hell had that happened? Not only was he half-frozen, but she was his partner, for God’s sake! All right, so he’d been about to kiss her before all hell broke loose outside his apartment. But a kiss was just a kiss, right? An erection was not just an erection. Not when it came to Scully. It was unwanted and disrespectful. Swiftly, he closed his eyes once again, swallowing hard.

“C’mere,” she murmured, pulling on his arms as her knees bent beneath her, effectively trapping his feet in a cocoon of warm, Scully calves. He resisted briefly and she raised a brow. “Mulder? Wake up, Mulder.”

“I’m awake,” he growled. Was he ever.

But she kept pulling him into her embrace and he relented, sensing she was a moment away from discovering the reason for his resistance. And that wouldn’t do, not at all. “There,” she said, tucking the blanket around them both, her arms winding around his neck. “Feel better?”

No. Warmer, yes. Better, no.

“Mulder?”

“Yeah, Scully. Thanks.” His own arms, having nowhere else to go, wrapped around her back. If there was one saving grace to this unwanted situation, it was that his knees stood like a wall between him and insanity.

Except for one thing – his feet were thawing out. And he could feel every humid, soft, part of her through her thick suit. No, no, no… stop squirming, Scully…

“Mulder?”

“What?”

She started at his snappish tone. “Just making sure you were awake. We need to keep talking.”

If she took up where they’d left off moments ago, it was liable to kill him. “I don’t feel like it.” So it was childish, but effective. At least he hoped so.

Scully was silent for a bit, waiting him out. He could feel her searching gaze inches from his nose, but he refused to open his eyes. That didn’t deter her, however, as she asked in a small voice, “I need to ask you something.”

Cracking open his eyes, he saw her worrying her lower lip. At the hesitation on her face, all thoughts of ignoring her flew away. Whatever it was, it was bothering her, and concern made him tighten his arms, his hands rubbing her back. “What? What’s the matter?”

“This is serious, Mulder.” Like she needed to state the obvious; it was plain on her face the subject she broached wasn’t about their on-again, off-again, facetious speculation about eventual sex.

“I can see that,” he whispered, bringing a hand up from the warmth to touch her cheek. “Ask me.” His arousal ebbed as she once again became a trusted friend in need.

“Would you have used sex to make me stay?”

Oh, God, it was worse. Ten times worse than when or how they’d do the deed, if they ever got past the ickiness of it all. Then again, he should have known better than to think she’d forget about the minute before she collapsed in his hallway. Still, his first reaction was anger. Dropping his hand, he grabbed her waist, giving her a slight shake. “That’s insulting, Scully. To me and to you.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” she shot back, as if knowing he’d react that way. “And I want the truth.”

He should say no. Deny that he’d ever stoop to demeaning himself and her that way. And surely the aborted kiss was just that – a gesture involving lips to seal their commitment to the truth and to one another. But she was way too smart for that bullshit.

The truth was, while he didn’t realize it at the time, that’s exactly what he would have done. Taken her to bed to make her stay, thereby ruining the best friendship he’d ever had. He loved her, yes. But he didn’t love her that way – did he?

All he knew was, he owed her an honest answer. “All right then,” he snarled, disgusted with himself. “Yeah, I probably would have.”

Instead of becoming angry, or sliding away from him with disappointment, Scully smiled. A self-satisfied smirk that brought heat to his cheeks. “I thought so. You’re so easy, Mulder.”

“Nothing personal, you understand… I mean, yeah it would have been person – shit, Scully.” Stammering, he sought to explain, but only ended up making himself look like an idiot. Her chuckles made his growing ire at his own behavior fade. Smiling, he ended his blathering with a haughty, “I am not easy.”

“I can read you like a book and you know it,” she snorted, tossing her head back in an effort to shake away the hair plastered to her cheeks.

Once again, his hand came up to clear her face of the pesky red mess amidst her murmured thanks. “Oh, yeah? It goes both ways, you know, Scully.” The abraded skin on his temple cringed with pain as he lifted an eyebrow, but he ignored it.

“Implying what?” she demanded, her laughter dying. “That I’d have let you seduce me into staying?”

Bingo. With a confidence that mirrored her own of a while ago, he stated, “I didn’t see you running from me like a frightened virgin.”

“I was unconscious, Mulder.”

“No, you weren’t. Not at first. You wanted it, admit it. Another ten seconds, and I’d have had you writhing on the floor.”

“Another ten seconds and I was writhing on the floor, Mulder,” she answered dryly, then his choice of words registered, as she asked, “Writhing?”

“Okay, so maybe not writhing,” he winced. “Moaning, screaming -”

“Screaming? My, aren’t we sure of ourselves.”

“You’re a screamer, Scully.” Grinning wickedly, he pursued the thought, enjoying their play. “C’mon, admit it.”

“I will not,” she stated, her feathers ruffled. But the gleam of challenge belied her typical coolness.

“I bet you bring the house down, don’t you?” A small voice in the back of his mind whispered that his teasing was trouble, but he couldn’t stop.

“You’re so sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“And you’re avoiding the question.”

Instead of arguing, her mouth became firm, with all the pliability of a schoolmarm spinster. “Oh, Mulder,” she clipped sarcastically. “Give it to me, stud.” The twinkle of mirth in her eyes punctuated the silly words.

“Oh, that’s inspiring,” he drolled, with disappointment.

“Forgive me if I can’t summon the energy to be a porn queen at this moment, Mulder.” Off his glare, she added, “Besides, why is it that men always assume it’s the woman who shouts out during sex? Is that some kind macho thing? A way to prove your prowess in bed?”

“Sex is the ultimate battle, Scully.”

“I see,” she said, biting her lip as her gaze lowered momentarily. “An issue of control.”

“Well, that’s not all it is,” he grumped, fast feeling her gain the upper hand. “Look, Scully -”

“You think I’m something to be conquered?”

“No!”

“You do.” The fuse was lit and the cannon ready to fire. “Well, I’ve got news for you, Mulder… I’m stronger than you are.”

That he knew already. Suddenly, he was bone weary. Closing his eyes, he sighed, “It was an observation, Scully.”

“About me.”

He could deny it, retreating to his corner of the ring to await another round. Or he could admit another truth… that he would give his eye teeth to know if she let go now and then.

“It was just an observation, damn it,” he growled, taking the weenie way out. “I could just as easily have been talking about a fist fight, or wrestling…”

“An observation about me,” she insisted, not letting him off that easy. Her fingers slid beneath the damp fleece.

Tense all at once, he demanded, “What are you doing?”

“Proving my point.”

“What point?” He thought he was the one with a point to prove.

In answer, her fingers glided over the bare skin of his midriff, leaving little trails of uncomfortable sensation. “That you wouldn’t necessarily be the conqueror.” Her legs clamped down over his feet, trapping them.

His feet were definitely warm now. “Cut it out,” he growled, letting his legs straighten. The cold air hitting his bare skin made him jump, but he wasn’t about to let her swallow his feet whole. In the next instant, he realized his mistake, as her hips straddled his thighs, her soft movements becoming more forceful.

“Oh yeah… that’s it!” She was getting into the act now, scratching at his waist. Even then, he heard her chuckles through the attack, her chest heaving as she gulped in breath. “Say uncle!”

Her hands moved to his chest, her tickling merciless, her mouth wide with laughter. Mulder reacted instantly, his hands gripping her hips to shove her away. “Jesus, Scully!” She was delirious, had to be. “Stop it!” Before long, she was going to come in contact with something she had no business knowing about, much less feeling between her thighs.

Against his will, he began to laugh as well. He tried to evade her fingers, with little success. Combined with relief at having found her, he succumbed like a… well, like a pussy, he thought. “You – come on -” he choked out, trying to push her hands away. But she kept on, incited by his struggles and his bubbling laughter.

“Say it!” She pursued him without compunction.

Nearly light-headed with lack of oxygen, he capitulated. “All right, damn it – uncle!”

Scully immediately stilled, throwing back her head to shout, “Oh… God, YES!” The curtain drawn on her little play, she collapsed against him, still giggling.

It was so like a more intimate moment that he felt a sizzle of painful lust race up his spine. Though she had no idea, burrowing against his warmth with all the innocence of a kitten.

“I am not a screamer,” she said. “More of a ‘yes’ man.” She shifted, seeking a more comfortable spot. “No matter what kind of battle,” she added with deliberation.

Her confirmation startled him. So she hadn’t really come out and said the words, but she’d let him know, anyway. In her own inimitable way. Gasping for breath, Mulder smiled, eyes closed. Yep. He believed he had his answer. Whether relinquishing control or grabbing it with both hands, Scully was a vocal opponent.

“You little -” He meant to admonish her for her behavior, for tormenting him with tickles.

Until he felt her whole body stiffen above him. Uncertainty crept into her voice. “Mulder?”

Had she felt it? The roar in his ears was piercing, a portent of the discussion to come. Willing his erection to melt away, he sighed, “Yes?” It was no use ignoring it now.

“Hello in there!”

The shout from outside surprised them both and they sat up, each yelling, “We’re here!”

A pair of gloved hands scraped away the ice and snow outside the passenger door window before swinging it open. “Agent Mulder?”

Mulder recognized the chief scientist from the nearby station and could have cried with relief. That’s why she’d quieted. Well, it was safer to believe, anyway. “Nice to see you guys,” he said, noticing the vehicles beyond the guy’s shoulder. “How’d you find us?”

The man, despite his heavy outerwear, seemed to deflate with mild embarrassment. “I – uh, I heard some shouting. Sound carries far in this wilderness, you know.” He backed away, shouting for the rest of his crew.

Mulder caught Scully’s gaze, feeling his suppressed grin match hers. If she’d felt the evidence of his arousal – which thankfully, had wilted the moment he heard the shout – she gave no sign of it now. She looked like he felt, just tired but happy.

“I can’t take you anywhere,” he muttered, donning his boots.

“Take me, stud,” she whispered, one last dig, though her voice trembled with emotion. “Take me home.”

Mulder stilled, seeing the calm resolution of safety, of belief in him, in the misty blue of her eyes. “That I can do,” he replied, stumbling out of the SnoCat to reach for her hand.

IV.

“Why, hello, Mr. Dreamsicle, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You know, this smacks of Mulder premeditation.” Scully gave him a sidelong glance as she savored the sweet stuff dripping over her fingers. “Of course, I can’t be sure. Unless there’s a guy movie waiting for us at your place.”

Mulder mimicked her enjoyment of the imitation frozen dessert, licking the melting sweetness with much sloppier panache. “Don’t forget the beer.”

She shifted on the picnic table, watching the stars shimmer in the night sky. “Ah, yes. The beer. You realize beer and non-fat Tofutti rice dreamsicles don’t mix, don’t you?”

“Says who?” His glance dared her to disagree. “If birthdays and baseball get along, so should beer and non- fat To – whatever the hell they are.”

She laughed, her arms pleasantly a-tingle from the swings in the batter’s box. “Spoken like a real man.”

“I am what I am, Scully.”

They sat in companionable silence while they finished the last of her birthday treats. She’d had a great time, she admitted to herself. Of course, standing for a good half hour in Mulder’s arms hadn’t hurt any. It was flirting with disaster to allow herself to feel it, but the overwhelming physical presence of her partner wrapped around her had stirred definitely more sexual feelings than one should have for a friend.

Not that she was ready to dive into the sack with him. But lately, she thought more and more about him as a physical being. He was very attractive, for one thing. And despite his unceasing fervor for the job, he could turn on the charm with the best of them. But nah… it would be like…

“Mulder?” She tossed the licked-clean stick into a nearby garbage receptacle, his nod of approval at her technique accepted with a grin.

He did the same, smiling as his stick hit nothing but the bottom of the can. “Yeah?”

“Beer and non-fat Tofutti rice dreamsicles really don’t mix, do they?”

His hands dropped to his knees. In profile, she watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. When he answered, his voice was low and precise.

“I dunno. I’ve never tried. Have you?”

She turned, picking at her jacket with shaky fingers, unable to believe where she was taking the conversation. But she forged ahead, uncaring if it led to something she didn’t really want to hear. “I’ve mixed Tofutti with frozen yogurt,” she said, her voice calmer than her insides. Jack was definitely of a like mind with herself. A bit rough around the edges, but as no- nonsense and logical as they come.

“And I’ve mixed beer and pretzels,” he pointed out. “With disastrous results.”

“Really?” Picturing him with Diana Fowley, she was surprised at his admission. They were alike in many ways, and though she thought the woman devious, she could see how they got along. Almost like they were made for one another, their beliefs similar in nature. Never a harsh word between them, adult interaction complete with unspoken confidence in each other’s abilities. “That surprises me.”

“Why?”

“Because you two – I mean – beer and pretzels are meant to be together. They compliment each other.”

“And beer and Tofutti don’t?” Before she could answer, he added, “Look… in this case, it didn’t really help that the beer and pretzels were of the same basic food group.”

“That being?”

“You know… the paranormal vegetables. Stuff you eat and drink while watching the Big Foot videotape for the 687th time.”

Turning her head again, she caught him looking at her. She could see he’d picked up her train of thought, the look in his eyes that of a man concentrating on every word being spoken, despite his frivolity in description.

“Sometimes, the best concoctions arise from the worst possible ingredients,” he continued. His eyes lingered on her mouth before coming back up. “I mean, it’s the end result that counts, am I right?”

God, how she wanted to agree. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to stir up the simmering pot and risk burning her tongue on the forbidden taste. But their vague dancing around the issue – something they’d done for years, but never with the intensity of tonight’s banter – told her that neither one of them were quite ready to chance the possible upset stomach such a mixture had the potential to cause.

A fact she didn’t hesitate to point out. “But what about the headache? The queasiness? The awful, gut-wrenching wish that you’d left well enough alone?”

Mulder stood, hands on hips, his sigh carried on the wind to places unknown. “Geez, Scully. It’s just baseball and birthdays.”

At the gleam of conciliatory retreat in his gaze, she let out all her nervousness in a rush of breath. “It is, isn’t it?”

“But it’s still a good combination.” He held out a hand, his posture a replay of his come-hither look when she’d first arrived. “C’mon. It’s late and we have to work tomorrow.”

It wasn’t fair that she had this gorgeous – yes, gorgeous – man as her partner. Most of all, it was downright criminal that they couldn’t seem to move beyond the confines of partnership. One day, she thought, as she took his hand. One day…

His fingers were sticky, but their warmth covered hers and she knew at that moment that they were a perfect match. Because hers were sticky, too.

They passed two water fountains and two restrooms on their way out of the park. But not once did she let go of his hand to wash away the sweet feel of the night.

V.

A Kiss is Not Just a Kiss After All

“In case you’re wondering, that was not Mulder premeditation.” He eased into the passenger seat with a grimace. “And definitely not Mulder spontaneity.”

Scully did her best to chuckle, lingering worry over his brush with ‘end of the world’ hysteria still making her heart beat a bit faster than normal. As she lifted his sling to fasten his seatbelt, she murmured an apology under her breath at the crease of his brow. “Painkillers kicking in yet?”

He looked up with a lopsided grin. “Sort of. I feel like I’m beginning to hallucinate. Could have sworn I just kissed a beautiful woman back there, yet she hardly said a word.”

“I was overcome,” she remarked softly, not wanting to admit to herself that maybe, just maybe her renewed anxiety had more to do with the touch of those lips to hers than his injury. “Besides, I answered your question, didn’t I?” She ignored the roll of his eyes and took her seat behind the wheel.

The traffic was heavy to his place in Alexandria and she took her time navigating the influx of post-midnight partiers returning home. After the night’s harrowing events, they certainly didn’t need some drunk slamming into them. Taking a few back streets, she breathed easier despite the extra time in the car, especially when Mulder quieted to a light doze.

Mouth parted, he slept beside her, his head angled toward her as it swayed with the motion of traveling. That lower lip – the one that had gently nudged hers an hour before, softly pleading for entrance – glistened with drool. It should have disgusted her, but all it did was make her want to wipe it away. With her tongue.

Shaking her head to clear the dangerous thoughts, she pulled up to a traffic light and waited, her fingers tapping out a rhythm to the jazz filtering from the radio. One second, then two… and she turned in her seat, bringing up her thumb, fascinated by that full, delicious lip.

At the first brush of her thumb, he jerked awake, startling her back into her seat. “Wha -?” His eyes were unfocused and his head lolled on his shoulders before he caught sight of her. His smile was infectious, and she felt her own lips part.

“I think you drooled on me,” she said, in a husky voice.

If anything, his smile became brighter, more childlike. “Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it?” he slurred.

Memories of that stakeout, so long ago, rushed to the forefront. Not because of the similar touch upon her face wakening her from sleep, but because of the conversation that started it all. Continued at oddball moments in their years together, she mentally listed the moments that were, in fact, a slow progression. And she had to say something to mark the joining of the circle. Anything. Of course, he probably wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning, but she would. A very nice way to start the pseudo-millennium.

“I liked it.”

His smile faded into a slow burn. He wasn’t quite as out of it as she’d thought, as she saw him figure out that drool wasn’t the subject of her statement. “I did, too.”

A harsh blare of a car horn snapped her gaze from his, and she pulled away from the intersection, chancing another profound statement. “It’s something I’d like to repeat.” Her hands clutched at the steering wheel as she waited for his reply.

“Me, too.”

She felt his lazy stare, could sense the way he was trying to stay awake. “Well… this certainly sounds like premeditation to me,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to keep her happiness from bubbling up in her words.

“Everything is pre – per – you know what I mean. For you and me. Always has been.”

His free hand closed about her wrist, dragging her hand from its lessening grip of the wheel. Enclosed in his, her fingers channeled her anxiety into muted anticipation, curling about his with a new familiarity.

“Only took us what? Seven, eight years to reach this point?” she chuckled. “If that’s not care and forethought, then I don’t know what is.”

“Scully?” His head laid back, his eyes giving up the fight to remain open, though he didn’t release her hand. “We are talking about sex here, aren’t we? And not baseball or fru- fruitti or Michelob Light?”

Turning onto his street, she whispered fervently, “I certainly hope so.”

His lips curled a bit, then fell slack as he nodded. No sex for them tonight, maybe not for quite a while yet, she thought. This shared kiss was just a stepping stone to bigger and better things. She was sure something else would come up to deter their personal track to intimacy; if not zombies, then one case after another, or even divine intervention or more sinister acts against them in the form of a chain-smoking old man.

But the circle was complete. All they had to do now was jump through it to the other side.

VI.

Spontaneous Premeditation

It wasn’t sound that awakened him; he’d been so jet-lagged earlier that all he did was strip down to his shorts and tumble into bed, immediately losing himself to sleep, his body trying to adjust from London time. Only an earthquake could have penetrated his slumbering eardrums. It was the sudden influx of cooler air under the covers, and the dip of the bed by his side. His eyes jerked open and he reached for his weapon on the night stand with fumbling fingers. The motion ceased before he could pinpoint his gun and a soft voice said, “It’s just me.”

Blinking rapidly, he faced the voice, seeing a small figure outlined in the street light from the window, one knee on the bed already, one hand holding the covers up as if she were afraid to move a hair.

“Scully?”

Satisfied she’d kept him from reacting violently, she slid under the covers, huddling on her side next to him. “How’d you guess?”

The hand still on the night stand fell to his bare chest as he laid back, the other itching to touch her to make sure she was real. Forcing his heart to slow down, he used humor to ease his sudden attack of nerves. “By voice only, really. Women climb into bed with me all the time, you know. Wearing nothing but one of my t-shirts.”

“Oh, really?” He could picture the rise of her brow in the darkness.

Turning his head, he grinned, knowing the light shone on his face, thereby giving her the more discerning view. “Uh… no. I lied.” With his other hand, he traced her cheek with the backs of his fingers, the rough knuckles soothed by the downy skin. He felt his eyes burn as his smile faded and he asked, in all sincerity, “Is this Scully spontaneity?”

Her hand covered his and she pressed the back of his hand closer, creating a pleasant friction that ignited a slow burn all the way down into his belly. Speak, Scully, he wanted to say. Before I throw all thoughts of rational response out the window and make the decision for us both.

“Spontaneity?” The corner of her mouth lifted, tickling the fine hair on his fingers. “Let’s see… I let you keep this debate up for what – oh, four years or so, knowing full well it would eventually lead to this moment. In that time, I’ve put you off with logic, with euphemisms and allegories… just as you have, I might add.”

“Let me?” His argument was weak, but his excitement pushed him to mark the moment with familiar repartee. “You participated, you know -”

Which she ignored, continuing, “I’ve even shown you my ‘yes’ man act in the middle of the Antarctic. Tonight, it’s the old ‘come to bed with just his t-shirt on’. Guaranteed to stir the inevitable question in any man’s mind – is she wearing underwear?”

“Are you?” he interrupted, the images conjured up by her dissertation of the facts he’d let sail by him over the years making his head swim – especially that last one.

“Being spontaneous?”

“Wearing underwear.”

Under the covers, he felt her legs shift, one bare foot gliding up his calf. “Are you?”

“Yeah. I didn’t expect this, you know.”

“Then all this premeditation on my part will have gone to waste?”

Releasing her hand, he quickly divested himself of his shorts, never breaking his silent scrutiny of a pre-sex Scully face. As in all things, she was calm, the only betraying signs of her arousal the heavy-lidded eyes and the quickening breath through lips licked to deep, night colors.

The boxers sailed to the other side of his bedroom and he slowly moved toward her, over her, holding his breath as she parted her legs to let him in her embrace. He didn’t press fully, keeping a suitable distance by balancing on his elbows, his eyes holding hers as he felt her knees cradle his hips. The first touch of her moist curls on his erection made him jerk forward, and his gasp echoed hers. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I’m kinda nervous.”

Beneath his belly, he felt little ripples float across her stomach, even through the cotton of the t-shirt. Once again, she licked her lips, her hands gripping his waist. “It’s not like I do this every day either, you know.”

“Neither do I,” he said, knowing her admitted celibacy matched his for length and frustration. “But I’ve thought about it a lot. Very much so the past couple of years.”

“Me, too.” Eyes still open and watching his face, she swallowed. “So?”

“So… what?” Even if they never made it beyond this point, he could die a happy man. Physical union with this woman could never transcend the melding of minds they’d reached years ago.

Though it would come damned close, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t matter.

“T-shirt on or off?” Their bodies only several inches from total merging, still she checked off on her mental checklist to full intimacy. If that wasn’t un-spontaneous, he didn’t know what was.

He pretended to think about it for a moment or two, as he let his body settle upon hers, his hands moving to her hips. “Hmm… on, I think. I wanna wear it tomorrow, even though I wore it today.” The thought of smelling her on him all day made him woozy. And he could feel the hard points of her nipples against his chest; he didn’t have to see to believe she was ready. “Besides, I’ve seen you naked.” A sight, despite the frigid cold of Antarctica, that was burned onto his brain.

“Same here,” She grinned, one light touch trailing from his waist to his groin and back. “But I think I want it off.”

“Then why did you ask?” One hand already pushed the material up, exposing skin that shivered beneath his fingers.

Her hands abandoned the chase momentarily, as she lifted her arms with the request to be stripped naked. He complied, pulling the t-shirt off to toss it to the floor. Arms still above her head, she stretched beneath him like a cat, her eyes wide with coquettish glee. “Because… I wanted you to make the decision?”

“Bullshit,” he growled, letting his body lower to meet hers. At the humid slide of skin against skin, he almost lost it, wanting to howl with lust. His voice became gravelly, untamed as he fought for control. “You’ve never backed down from anything in your life.”

“True.” One hand wrapped around his neck, the fingers sifting through the short, damp hair. “Guess I’m nervous, too.”

Sobering, he gave in to his body’s call to move, slowly positioning himself as he felt her other hand move down his torso. “So this is it, huh?”

“Guess so,” she whispered, licking her lips. “We’ve seen each other naked, we’ve kissed. We’ve talked about it. Quite a lot, actually.”

His mouth hovered over hers; he was tired of talking. But there was one more thing to be said. “To clarify, Scully – remember when I told you that I loved you?”

“Yeah.”

“I meant it.”

In answer, her feathery touch became bold, insinuating. Lifting his hips just a fraction to allow her fingers to sneak in, he finally squeezed his eyes shut at the feel of her small fingers wrapping around his dick. A few experimental strokes later, she silently drew him into her warmth. He slid in with no problem, his groan mixing with her sigh.

“I know you did,” she whispered against his lips. “Just another step in our mutual, years-long spontaneity.”

At last, he kissed her, drowning in sensation. For long, long minutes, they moved together, sometimes in perfect sync, sometimes not.

“Harder, Mulder – ow, too much!”

“Sorry. This better?”

“Yeahhh… have to… tell you something…”

“Go… right ahead.”

“I’m not really… a ‘yes’ man,” she stated, one foot coming up to anchor his hips to hers as he spread his hand on her opposite thigh, opening her wider. “I’m more of a moaner.”

“Oh yeah?” he panted. “Like what?” He felt her clench around him.

“Like… oh God, Mulder…” Her voice was low and deep, sending shivers up his spine. “I love you…” She splintered into a thousand pieces before him, around him, her neck arching in the unconscious invitation to succumb as well.

He did, the soft, dampness of her cheek muffling his answering moan as he came, his lips tasting her spontaneous passion and premeditated love.

Just as his heart and mind did, so long ago. In the office, in the car, in the wilderness. It had always been there.

**********

Scully left his side for a moment, shushing his snort of disapproval. “I’m hot,” she said, sitting up to fling off the sheet. As she curled back into his side, she pinched his arm. “Don’t even think of saying it,” she warned, sensing a Frohike-ism on his lips.

His hand drew figure eights on her bare hip and he chuckled, “Did I say a word? Hmm?”

“No, but you were thinking it.” His silence confirmed it, and she closed her eyes, smiling in the darkness.

Under the cooling blanket of night air, she tucked her knee over his, kicking away the remainder of the sheet with her other foot. Sleep beckoned, but she could feel Mulder’s mind working in overdrive, the lazy, endless loops on her skin a deceptive mask for a weighty word or two hovering on his lips.

“Okay, spill it.”

Instead of hedging the question, Mulder launched right into it. “Was that premeditated, too?”

She knew exactly what he worried about. “You mean – do I always blurt out ‘I love you’ as the logical conclusion to sex?”

The pillow shifted as he turned his head from its nuzzle of her hair, his voice apologetic. “Don’t answer that. I’m being an ass. A jealous, chauvinistic ass.”

But it was obviously important to him. A gauge of her commitment to this new side of their relationship. Drugs or not, he found the courage to say it to her long ago. And it was with truthful lips that she gave him what he deserved, in the height of passion, as well as now.

“Totally spontaneous. I do believe that’s the first time I’ve ever said that to anyone while enjoying the fruits of premeditation. It’s not easy for me to say, you know.” She reached up, turning his chin to her with one finger. “Remember that moment, Mulder. You can say you’ve witnessed true Scully spontaneity.”

His eyes glittered, twin jewels of light and love. “Will I witness it again?”

Her nod was emphatic. “Definitely. Especially if I get to enjoy a little Mulder premeditation now and then.”

As he plied her mouth with his own, he muttered, “Okay then… ‘Plan Nine from Outer Space’? Or ‘Caddyshack’?”

Scully wrapped her arms around him, tasting beer on her tongue, and fru-fruitti in his kiss. Not a bad combination after all.

The End

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