Title: I Blame Dick Clark
Rating: PG-13.....yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry.
Category: MSR, H, post-ep
Summary: what happened after the kiss?
Disclaimer: Sue me. I dare you.
Authorís Notes: Thanks to Megan, who inspired the lines that Scully speaks to Mulder about being a resident of her heart-thatíll teach you to tell me anything again, huh Meg?!?! Thanks for the inspiration and listening to me blather on. Anytime you need some funky poaching done, you know who to turn to!!!
January 1, 2000
Itís quiet. TOO quiet.
Not that Mulder lives in an unusually loud building; in fact, if thereís any noise, itís usually coming from Mulderís apartment in the form of gunshots or a SWAT team banging at the door.
I guess I supposed this evening would be different, what with it being New Yearís and all. Then again, they did have that big concert down by the Lincoln Memorial, and Murphyís is right down the road, a lot of people could be there, too.
Maybe the other residents were sane and decided to go to bed. After all, the millennium is 366 days away-2000 is a leap year.
Mulderís right. I am a math geek.
He hasnít looked at me since he kissed me in the hospital waiting room. Conversation had been sporadic and strained at best. In the car, he had immediately turned on the radio and flipped stations until he found a one that was playing the least annoying music-hard to do when every station in the city is playing ĎAuld Lang Syneí and Princeís Ď1999'- and hadnít said much except how crowded the streets were and what a horrible idea it was to have some sort of free event downtown.
We were silent now as we walked down the dark hallway. He reached into his pocket with his good hand and stopped, his face frozen in the blank look I have come to know as the Mulder Panic Face.
He cleared his throat nervously. "My keys are in my pocket." He looked at me for the first time in over an hour. "My other pocket."
With as much nonchalance as I could muster, I reached my hand into his pocket and retrieved his keys as quickly as possible. I opened the door and followed him in, throwing his keys on the coffee table.
"Okay, Mulder......you take the antibiotic at 8," I said, pulling a few bottles of pills out of my pocket and putting them on the table next to his keys. "The painkiller you take at 10. Make sure you take the antibiotic with at least 8 ounces of water, okay?"
He nodded absently, staring out the window.
"Do you need anything else?"
He looked at me, almost embarrassed. "Actually, yes."
"I.....um......" He sighed. "I need to go to the bathroom."
I have never been so embarrassed in my life.
Okay, that time I puked on Marcy Friedman while we were kissing was worse. But not by much.
Itís not enough that here I am, doped up like a fiend and needing to use the bathroom with a fervor I hadnít known was possible, with only one good arm.
I had to wear the damn button-fly jeans.
I see Scully look at me, her face flushed slightly. Whether itís from arousal or sheer embarrassment is beyond me, but after the events of the evening it could go either way.
Iíve been kicking myself all evening. That kiss......seven years Iíve waited to do that. If I really thought about it, I could break that down into days, weeks, seconds. Itís been on my mind, more than I really want to admit.
Personally, I blame Dick Clark.
If he hadnít said to just grab the nearest person and lay one on Ďem, I probably wouldnít have. Okay, not that I wasnít already thinking about it, but Dick Clark hyping it up about ringing the new millennium in right didnít help me any. Talk about your peer pressure. I havenít felt pressure like that since........well, right now.
Did I mention that I have to use the bathroom? Urgently?
Blushing slightly, Scully walks over to me and puts her hands at the fly of my jeans. I look up at the ceiling, trying not to look at her as she unbuttons my jeans, which I have to add she does with exquisite slowness and deliberateness. Think of England, think of England............
I almost sigh in relief. "Thanks," I reply, rushing to the bathroom.
I have seen Mulder naked many, many times. Itís nothing new to me.
But never have I been the one to undress him.
To tell you the truth, I almost enjoyed it.
I heard the toilet flush and he emerged from the bathroom, his fly still undone. He gave me a sheepish smile. "Well, Iím relieved."
I rolled my eyes. How typically Mulder. "Anything else before I go?"
He gave me his best sad puppy look. "Scully, how am I going to do anything like this?" he asked, gesturing to his bandaged arm. "I canít even undress myself. How am I going to do anything?"
He looked so embarrassed and so frustrated that I felt for him. I couldnít just leave him alone to struggle with this-he wouldnít leave me if it were me, and even if I wanted him to. With a sigh, I step out of my shoes. "Come on, Mulder, letís get you ready for bed."
I walk into his bedroom-which is still decorated in that awful animal print decor, I would like to add-and proceed to his dresser. "Which drawer are your pajamas in?"
"Second from the bottom on the left."
I opened the drawer and took out the only pair of pajamas in there, soft cotton in a buttery yellow. I threw them on the bed and beckoned for him to come over to me.
He walked over to me, and I sat him down on the bed and took the sling off his arm. He winced slightly as I did so, but he didnít say a word. I took the hand of his good arm and slipped it through the armhole, then slipped the shirt over his head. As gently as I could, I slipped the shirt over his wounded arm and threw it on the bed. I then untied his shoes and slipped them off, and tucked his socks into the shoes.
Wordlessly, he stood. With as much clinical detachment as I could muster, I slipped his jeans over his hips and down his legs, leaving him there in nothing but his Bugs Bunny boxers. I couldnít help but smile. "Cute."
He grinned. "Glad you approve."
I handed him the pajamas, and he gave me a lecherous look.
"Iíll flip you for the tops."
I wanted so badly to agree, but the rational part of me won out. Giving him a dirty look tempered with a small smile, I took the pajama tops and went into his bathroom to change.
Hoo-ee, that was fun. I have a feeling I will be replaying that scene in my mind over and over again.......with a different ending, of course.
Although, if that smile she gave me is any indication, maybe not.
I managed to put the pajama bottoms on with my one hand and I sat on my bed, waiting for her to emerge from the bathroom. I tried to imagine how she would look in my pajamas, her little legs sticking out enticingly.
My imagination was no match for the reality.
She emerged from the bathroom, the top several sizes too big for her. She had rolled up the cuffs twice but they were still a little too long for her arms, and the shirttails hung below the middle of her thighs. The collar gave me a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage, and I found myself looking for something to drop so that sheíd have to bend over and show me the Promised Land.
I am one sick puppy.
She sighed as she sat down next to me. "We need some extra pillows for you to prop your arm up on."
This required a response. I dragged my mind out of the gutter and managed to reply, "In the closet."
She got up and walked over to the closet. I tried not to watch her as she bent over and rummaged around, but I couldnít help myself. The opportunity was there.......sheís a woman, Iím a man.........I could have been the Pope and I still would have looked.
She was wearing red panties with a print of little sprigs of mistletoe all over.
It was enough to make me believe in God.
She stood up, and I quickly averted my eyes from her attractive derriere before she caught me looking and decided to shoot my other arm. Clutching several pillows to her chest, she walked over to the bed and pulled down the sheets, placing the pillows on the right side of the bed.
I slide my way up to the head of the bed and lay down, my arm propped up on the pillows. She leaned over and pulls the sheets up around me, and I try my damndest not to look down her top. She tucked me in snugly, then stands up straight.
"Anything else?" she asks me with a small smile.
And before I can stop myself, I hear myself say, "Yes. Stay with me until I fall asleep."
You are certainly full of surprises tonight, Mulder.
I pause only for a moment before I cross to the other side of the bed and sit down next to him. My knee gently brushes his hand, and he jerks it away suddenly, as though he has been burned.
"You want a bedtime story too?" I ask with a smile.
I am rewarded with a chuckle. "Whatcha got?"
"Well, let me think.......My brotherís kids like ĎGoodnight Mooní and ĎWhere the Wild Things Areí. But you strike me as more of a ĎHarold and the Purple Crayoní kinda guy." Without even thinking about what I am doing, I begin to run my hand through his spiky hair.
"No......no story tonight, Scully," he says. After a pause, he adds, "Can I ask you a question?"
"You just did, Mulder."
His good hand smacks my knee playfully. "Everyone likes a piece of ass, Scully......but nobody likes a smart ass."
"That was creative, Mulder? Did you think that one up yourself?" My hand continued to rake through his hair, enjoying the softness of it. Somewhere deep in my subconscious, I knew that this was a potentially precarious situation. And I watched him as he lay there, wounded enough to whine but not enough for it to be serious, his beautiful eyes full of sweetness and mischief and all the other qualities I associate with Mulder, and I neither cared nor worried about propriety.
"Are you........" his voice caught slightly. "Are you upset that I kissed you? Because...... if you are, Iíd really like to know."
I smothered a laugh as I replied, "No, Mulder. Shocked, yes. Upset........no."
He turned ever so slightly to look at me. "You mean you didnít see that one coming?"
"No.....although in retrospect, maybe I should have." I looked down at him. "Why now, Mulder?"
"Why not?" He sighed heavily, then spoke again. "How long have we been playing this game now, Scully? Six years? Seven?"
"Something like that."
He turned to look at me again, his eyes boring into mine. "When I was missing, Scully.........I saw my life as it could have been. I had strong, healthy sons, I had my sister back.... I had everything I used to think I ever wanted." He reached up with his good hand and took my hand from his hair, holding it firmly. "But you were what was missing. I realized how much you mean to me, how much I need you. I promised myself that if I ever got back to you, if I ever had the chance to see you again, I would show you just how much you mean to me." He kissed my hand gently. "Itís about time we told each other how we felt without someone being near death or in trouble or doped up on morphine after an ill-fated trip to Bermuda."
"I know.......I know you donít like to talk about how you feel, Scully," he said. "But itís been seven years........and Iím ready to hear it, no matter what it is."
I looked down at our intertwined fingers, my hand tiny in comparison to his large one, and knew I had nothing to fear. He had risked so much telling me all of this.......and no matter how much I disliked discussing my emotional state, I owed it to Mulder-and myself. He had waited seven years, and that was long enough.
I moved so that I was now facing him as I sat, so that I could see his face clearly as I spoke. "You are the most important person in my life, Mulder," I said, squeezing his hand. "When I thought you were dying, I was so afraid..........I didnít want to lose you, and what was worse was that I couldnít help you. I felt so helpless. I lost faith in everything and everyone........ except you." I chuckled in an attempt to quell the tears I could feel forming in my eyes. "As much as I tried to fight it..........as hard as I struggled against it, you became the most important person in my life. I didnít want it to happen........but youíre just so damn persistent-"
He laughed and squeezed my hand.
"-that fighting you was futile. You set up residence in my heart and my mind and my soul," my voice broke, and the tears spilled forth, leaving a hot trail down my face. "And youíve become a permanent fixture. I couldnít get rid of you if I wanted to."
His hand released mine and reached up to caress my face, his thumb gently wiping away my tears. I saw the tears in his own eyes, but he laughed as he said, "What can I say? The rent there is amazing."
I laughed through my tears as I reached out and stroked his face, the stubble scratchy against my palm. "Youíre the best tenant Iíve had."
He pulled me close and lay my head on his bare shoulder as the tears fell silently. His good hand stroked my back gently, a gesture both of comfort and love. "Thank you, Scully."
"For telling me. For allowing me in." He paused. "It shows me that you trust me."
"Itís not always easy," I admit.
He chuckled. "Iím sure."
I looked up at him, my chin resting on his chest, and saw him looking at me. He tucked a piece of hand behind my ear and said softly, "I love you, Scully."
I couldnít decide whether to laugh or cry, so I did both as I moved around to kiss his beautiful mouth. His lips were salty, a result of our mingled tears. He shifted slightly, and he let out a small moan-of pain.
"What?" I asked, quickly sitting up. "Your arm?"
"Yeah," he said with a wince. "Silly me, I tried to move it."
I smiled as I moved off of him. "Something tells me that this is probably about all the excitement you can handle right now."
He laughed good-naturedly. "Yeah......I want you to have the full Mulder experience." He took my hand again. "But you could sleep with me in the bed, couldnít you?"
He gave me his best sad puppy look, and I smiled. "Yeah, I could."
I crawled back underneath the covers and turned out the light, resting my head on his shoulder.
He kissed the top of my head. "Good night, Scully."
"Good night, Mulder."
Thereís a warm body in bed with me, and a very nasty pain in my arm. As I slowly awaken, the events of the past 24 hours come back to me, and I smile. Slowly, I open my eyes and take in my surroundings.
Scully is asleep, her nose buried in my neck and her arms holding me tightly, one of her legs thrown over mine. My pajama tops have ridden up on her, exposing her cute, round butt on which my good hand is now resting.
I feel her stir, and her eyes open slowly. "What time is it?" she asks me sleepily.
"About quarter of eleven."
She kissed me quickly and got up. Immediately I missed her closeness. "Where are you going?"
"I am meeting Mom for mass, and then weíre going to brunch." She turned to me with a smile. "You could join us."
I gave her a look. "Why are you going to church?"
I watched her as she got dressed. "Itís a holy day. Besides, I thought it would be a nice way to start the year." She turned to me. "Why donít you just meet us for brunch, then?"
"Filomena, at 1:30."
I smiled at her. "I think I could arrange that."
She bent down and kissed me. "Okay, Iíll see you there. Will you be okay getting dressed and showered and all?"
She kissed me once again and was gone.
Three Weeks Later
Itís been three tedious, frustrating weeks, but finally......tonight is the night. After six years, nine months, six days and three incredibly frustrating weeks, I am finally going to make love to the enigmatic Dr. Scully.
Iíve had this night planned for years, ever since I saw that fireplace she has in her apartment. I donít care that this is the warmest January on record here in the District, and that temps have been in the low 70's since before Christmas. I want our first time to be in front of that fireplace with a big, roaring fire, and I will be damned if I donít get it.
Iím watching her now as she shuts down her computer and begins to pack up some stuff. Sheís heading down to DC General to do an autopsy for someone from Violent Crimes. She may be called Mrs. Spooky, but my Scully is the best pathologist in the Bureau and everyone knows it.
"Will you be back today?" I asked her nonchalantly.
She looked over at me and gave me a small smile. "I donít know. But I do know that I will be done by six-thirty, so youíd better have dinner ready for me when I get home."
I had to laugh. "Yes, maíam."
She walked over to me and gave me a slow kiss. "Iíll see you tonight."
"You got that right, Agent Scully."
With a laugh, she kissed me again and was gone.
I looked over the list I had written down in preparation for tonight. Dinner was going to be perfect-one of the guys up in the lab had a roommate who was a waiter at this wonderful Italian restaurant in Dupont Circle, and with a little bit of bribing, he had arranged for me to pick up a nice little dinner for Scully and myself. I had ordered beef ravioli, lasagne, gnocchi in a cream sauce, and cheese tortellini in a creamy tomato sauce, along with an order of garlic bread and two bottles of the house chianti. I had also ordered dessert-tiramisu-at a local bakery that the restaurant suggested. I was going to pick it up after work, on my way to Scullyís place.
In my trunk was a bag of cinnamon-scented candles of all shapes and sizes. I know Scully has candles and candlesticks and all, but I figured better safe than sorry. Besides, I planned on going through every one of those candles tonight-even the ones guaranteed to last eight hours.
Also in that bag was a collection of CDís, all suggestions from the Gunmen. I had to admit that some of their choices were good-Harry Connick Jr., some Ella Fitzgerald, and some Al Green. I blanched when Frohike handed me his Marvin Gaye CD, but he assured me that "Marvin Gaye always gets the chicks hot." And Byers reminded me that after Barry White released his first album, the birth rate went up 5%. I didnít even think Byers knew who Barry White was. Who would have thought Byers-let alone Langley-were Barry White fans?
Being the old-fashioned romantic that I am, I also had an order of flowers waiting for me at a florist down near Dupont. I had ordered two dozen red and white roses, as well as red rose petals which I planned on sprinkling on her bed. That was Frohikeís idea. For a man who claims to have trouble finding women, he sure knows how to plan a seduction.
Damn, Iím good.
Dinner is warming in the oven, the wine is chilling, the fire is blazing, the candles are lit. On the stereo, Harry Connick Jr. is crooning about nightengales singing in Barkley Square.
I hear Scullyís keys in the lock, and a moment later she appears. "Smells good, Mulder." She kicks her shoes off and drops her briefcase before plopping down onto the couch.
"It should." I hand her a glass of wine, which she accepts readily. "Hope you like Italian."
"After today, Iíd eat just about anything."
"The autopsy wasnít bad, just long. It was the traffic that was bad." She shrugs out of her jacket without putting her wine down. "Do you know I left the hospital at 5? Iíve been sitting in traffic for almost two hours."
I sit down next to her and kiss her ear. "I hope youíre not too tired to have some fun."
She quirkes her eyebrow at me. "Itís been six years, nine months, and six days. Iím not too tired."
"Good. Go change and Iíll put dinner on the table."
She stands, giving me an amused look. "I think I could get used to this."
"Donít get too used to this. After this, itís back to leaving the toilet seat up and squeezing the toothpaste tube from the middle."
As she changes, I put dinner on the table. As I light the candles, she comes out of her room dressed in jeans and a loose fitting blue shirt and sits down at the table. "This looks wonderful. Where did you get it?"
"Are you implying that I canít cook?"
"Unless you have an old Italian grandmother hiding somewhere who taught you how to make gnocchi and tortellini, thatís exactly what Iím saying."
"You know Agent Crowley?"
She nods, taking a bite of the ravioli. "Tall, built, blond hair?"
"Yeah. His roommate works at a restaurant off Dupont Circle. He recommended this place."
"Itís delicious. Remind me to thank him."
The stereo falls silent, and I hear the gentle whirring of the CD player changing CDís. Iím trying to remember which other CDís Iíve put on when the first strains of music start up and Scully nearly spits wine out her nose. Sheís choking and laughing and Iím sitting here, wondering what the hell I should do.
Her choking eventually becomes just laughter, and she throws her head back and laughs like I have never seen her laugh before.
"Something amusing, Scully?" I ask. "Care to share with the rest of the class?"
Her laughter slowly ebbs from a gale to some chuckles. "Oh, God, Mulder......Marvin Gaye? It has been a long time."
I look at her, hurt. "You know, Scully, if you didnít want to have sex tonight, all you had to do was say you had a headache."
"No, itís not that," she said, wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes. "Did I ever tell you the story about Debbie?"
"No, you didnít."
She manages to quell her laughter enough to talk. "When I was about thirteen I had this friend, Debbie. She had this huge family-a mess of older brothers and some younger sisters. Well, one day we skip our last class and go to her house, and there are two of her older brothers sitting in the kitchen eating-they also skipped their last class. We get to talking to them, and suddenly Debbie realizes that her mom isnít there, which was really unusual because Mrs. Morris was always home, and suddenly-" Scully stops, laughing, "we hear Marvin Gaye singing ĎLetís Get It Oní and her brothers just burst into laughter. Of course, Debbie and I were baffled. So her brother sat us down and explained to us exactly what was going on and......well, letís just say that Marvin Gaye has had this effect on me ever since." She laughed again. "Nine months later, she had a baby sister."
I couldnít help but laugh. "That is pretty funny. Want me to change it?"
I take Marvin out of the CD player and make a mental note to kick Frohikeís ass. I put Ella Fitzgerald in, and Scully smiles.
"Now thatís more like it." She walks over to me and kisses me thoroughly. "I think itís time for me to get the full Mulder experience."
Hoo boy. "But the food will get cold-"
"We can reheat it later." She began unbuttoning my dress shirt. "But right now, Iím not hungry for food."
I smile. "I love it when you talk dirty, Agent Scully."
She gives me a coy look. "Fox Mulder, take me to bed or lose me forever."
I comply. And somewhere between the living room and the bedroom, I send up a prayer of thanks to Dick Clark for helping make this evening possible.