Title: "Getting Better"
Author: Alicia K.
Email:  spartcus1@msn.com
Category:  S, H, R
Keywords:  Already established MSR
Spoilers:  None.  Let's pretend that "Orison" 
never happened, okay? Okay.
Rating: NC-17 for naughty bits
Disclaimer:  Not mine.  No infringement.
Distribute:  Spookys and Scullyfic Improv 
archive okay. Anywhere else, please ask.

Summary:  Scully's very bad, horrible, no 
good, rotten day.

Author's Note:  This story crawled from the 
primordial ooze of that thing called 
Scullyfic Improv, in which the victim . . . 
er, volunteer asks for five random elements 
to be inserted into the story.  The elements 
can be found at the end of the story.

Oodles and kaboodles of thanks to my beta 
readers, Mish and Kari.  Kisses!

This story can also be found on my web page:  
http://members.dencity.com/aliciak/enter.html

XXX

It had been a very bad day.

First, she had woken up to discover that the 
ingrown toenail she'd meant to take care of 
had become a throbbing, puffy, painful lump 
on her poor toe.  After hobbling into the 
shower, cursing all the way, she'd said 
"Screw the dress code," and had dug her 
cleanest pair of running shoes out of the 
closet.

At noon, she had ventured out into the cold 
rain to find lunch, only to discover that 
she'd left her purse at the office.  By the 
time she'd retrieved it, there were three 
urgent voicemails demanding her immediate 
attention, and she'd had to put up with 
popcorn and soda from the vending machine.

That afternoon, she'd been typing the report 
that Skinner wanted "On my desk, no later 
than three o'clock, Agent!"  Her laptop had 
decided that it had been far too nice to her 
lately, and had promptly eaten every last 
shred of the unsaved document.  She'd slapped 
the retyped report onto Skinner's desk one 
minute before three, getting away with only a 
small glare and an odd look from Kimberly, 
who seemed to have noticed her choice of 
footwear.

Before going to Mulder's, she had trekked 
across town to the collectibles shop to pick 
up her birthday present to Charlie: a first-
edition autographed copy of Bruce Lee's 'The 
Tao of Jeet Kune Do.'  The store owner, a 
skinny man who had reminded her far too much 
of Langly, had not seemed very sorry to tell 
her that he had sold the book that very 
afternoon to a "really weird German guy."

And if that hadn't been the final straw, as 
she had climbed out of her car in front of 
Mulder's building, a delivery truck had 
zoomed past her, splattering her with cold, 
muddy water from head to toe.

Dana Scully had had a very bad day.  She 
wasn't expecting it to get much better.  
Mulder would probably be hoping for sex, but 
she didn't see that happening.  All she 
wanted to do was get out of her wet clothes, 
eat some real food, and just crash.

She could hear him laughing all the way down 
the hall.  She prayed he would be smart 
enough to remove the grin from his face when 
he saw her, or she would do it for him.

As she trudged down the hall, dripping murky 
water onto the hardwood floor, his laughter 
continued.  He'd better have the friggin' 
Marx brothers in there with him, she thought 
with a scowl, pounding on the door with her 
fist.

His laughter petered out, switching to low 
gear with a few chortles and sniffles, and 
some of the "ah" and "oh" sounds one makes as 
a really satisfying laugh dies down.

He opened the door, grinning and wiping his 
eyes with the back of his hand.  She stomped 
past him, shoes squishing, and 
unceremoniously dumped her overnight bag onto 
the floor.  He gave her a once-over and 
asked, "You went swimming without me?"

A slew of smart retorts clamored for 
attention in her head, and she took a few 
seconds before deciding that she didn't have 
the energy to give any of them the proper 
attitude.  She gave him a thin, humorless 
smile.  "It's been a really bad day."

He put on his sympathetic face.  "So I guess 
it's still raining."

She began unbuttoning her coat.  "If by rain 
you mean buckets of muddy water being thrown 
on me by a passing truck, then yes," the coat 
fell at her feat with a thick splat,  "it's 
still raining."

Mulder grimaced, but then smiled.  "You know 
what you look like?"  Scully shot him a 
warning glance, but he continued.  "You look 
like Liesl from 'The Sound of Music,' after 
she gets caught in the rain and climbs up the 
trellis into Maria's room."

"So help me God, Mulder, if you start singing 
'Sixteen Going On Seventeen' . . ." She 
sighed and bent to untie her shoes.  "What 
the hell was so funny?"

"Huh?  Oh, my favorite episode of 'The 
Simpsons' was on - the all-musical one, where 
they rent that "Paint Your Wagon" movie and 
Clint Eastwood and Lee Marvin start singing, 
and there's that criminal that bursts in 
and . . . Say, Scully, that's a pretty sharp 
look you've got going."

She raised her wet head, her tangled hair 
shooting droplets of water at him.  "Excuse 
me?" she snapped.

He jerked his chin at her feet.  "The shoes. 
Very Wall Street, 1985."

She straightened and counted to ten very 
slowly to restrain herself from kicking her 
soggy Reeboks at his face.  "You know, 
instead of standing there making smart 
remarks, you could get me a towel," she said 
as gently as she could.

He immediately looked chagrined.  "Sorry," he 
muttered, scurrying down the hall to the 
bathroom.  He reappeared quickly and wrapped 
a big towel around her shoulders.  Scully 
frowned and removed it, instead bending 
forward to dry her hair as best as she could.

Mulder knelt before her with a second towel, 
trying to mop up the puddle that had grown 
around her.  "You're just getting more water 
everywhere," he said, but looked very sorry 
when she glared at him.

She wanted to snap at him, but again, she 
couldn't find the strength to do it.  Her 
shoulders sagged.  "Mulder, all I want to do 
is get out of these wet clothes, have some 
dinner, and then just sit.  I want to sit and 
relax, and not think about the rain, the mud, 
the report, or the idiot at the collectibles 
shop, or that stupid book!"  

Scully stopped when she realized she was 
shouting, and squeezed her eyes shut to stop 
herself from bursting into tears.  
Ridiculous, she thought.  This is silly.  
It's just a lot of irritating things building 
up over the day, nothing really bad happened, 
she was here with Mulder 
now . . . .

"Hey," Mulder said softly, standing and 
cupping her shoulders in his hands.  "Tell 
you what.  Why don't you go relax in the tub.  
I'll bring you some wine, some food if you 
want, and just relax, okay?"

That sounded very nice to Scully, who nodded 
and leaned into his gentle caress.  "Okay."  
She opened her eyes and gave Mulder a very 
small, very tired smile.  He returned the 
smile and kissed her lightly on the lips.

Okay.  Good.  Things were starting to look 
up, she thought.  Scully dripped down the 
hall to the bathroom, where she started 
filling the tub and stripping off her 
clothes.  She dug through the cabinet under 
the sink until she found the bubble bath he 
had bought for her, then poured a generous 
amount into the water.  Wishing she were in 
her own tub, with soft music and her vanilla-
scented candle, she flicked off the light and 
lowered herself into the hot water with a 
sigh.

"Yeah," she called when he knocked on the 
door.

"Brought you some wine," he said.  "You want 
some candles or something?"

In the darkness of Mulder's bathroom, Scully 
smiled.

XXX

"So," Mulder said, putting his empty bowl on 
the sink.  "Bad day, huh?"

She wiped her mouth with the napkin and 
finished her second glass of wine.  "Yeah.  
Pretty much sucked."  She ate the last two 
spoonfuls of soup and handed the dishes to 
Mulder.  "That helped, though.  Thank you." 
She leaned back in the tub again, closing her 
eyes.

"You're welcome.  If you're still hungry 
after you get out, I can go grab something 
else for us to eat."  He scooted closer, 
leaning his arm and chin on the edge of the 
tub.

Scully looked at him and smiled, liking the 
way the light from the lone candle danced in 
his eyes.  The wine and warm water had 
loosened her muscles, and her spirit had 
lifted with the addition of hot soup.  

His fingers dangled into the bubbles and 
brushed against her knee.  She grimaced, 
remembering that she hadn't had time to shave 
her legs that morning.  "I'm all hairy," she 
complained, giving an embarrassed sigh.

Mulder smiled.  "Like I care."

She flicked a fluff of bubbles at him.  
"Well, I do."

Mulder got to his feet and left the room, 
leaving her wondering if she had hurt his 
feelings.  She was about to call him back, 
but he reappeared, her toiletries bag in 
hand.  "What are you doing?"  He unzipped it 
and nosed around for a minute, emerging with 
her razor.  She raised an eyebrow.  "You want 
me to shave?"

He grinned and took his shaving cream out of 
the cabinet.  "Nope."  He knelt on the floor 
beside her and uncapped the can.  

Scully sat up.  "Mulder . . . "

"It doesn't bother me, but it obviously 
bothers you," he said mildly, dispensing a 
little onto his palm.  "Besides," he touched 
his palm to her nose, leaving a dollop of 
cream on its tip, "I've always wanted to do 
this."

She wiped it away and sank back into the tub, 
acquiescing.  Tipping her head back and under 
the water, she smoothed her hair out of her 
face.  When she opened her eyes again, Mulder 
was watching her with lust that he didn't 
bother to conceal.

A jolt of unexpected desire shot through her, 
and she jerked her leg in surprise, kicking 
the porcelain of the tub hard with her sore 
toe.  She grimaced.  "Don't look at my feet."

"Don't look at your feet?  Why not?  I love 
your feet."

She had a brief memory of Mulder delicately 
tracing the arch of her foot with his tongue, 
and shivered in the warm water.  "I have an 
ingrown toenail.  It's ugly."

Mulder looked at her with a naughty smile.  
"I've spent hours with my face pressed 
between your thighs, and you're worried about 
me seeing an ugly toe?"  Scully flushed and 
leaned forward to let some more hot water 
into the tub.  "Not that I'm saying that 
between your thighs is ugly.  It's beautiful.  
It's my favorite place to be in the world."

She licked her lips as he gently lifted her 
left leg out of the water.  She shifted lower 
and rested her heel on the faucet at the end 
of the tub.  "If you nick me, I'll pout," she 
said in a low voice.  He flicked his eyes at 
her and smiled, squeezing a generous amount 
of shaving cream into his hands.

She watched him, heavy-lidded from wine, 
desire, and relaxing heat.  He was slow and 
careful, making sure he didn't miss one stray 
hair.  His hands smoothed the cream over her 
leg with long strokes, covering every inch.  
He rinsed with the same motions, massaging 
her muscles gently.

"Next leg," he announced, and she switched.  
"Want some more wine?"  She shook her head 
and sighed contentedly.

Mulder turned around to lean over her, and 
she tilted her head to receive his kiss.  It 
was a small kiss, but she made a soft sound 
of pleasure as his tongue swept briefly 
through her mouth.

He returned to his task, and as he lathered 
her up, he began to sing.  "How do you solve 
a problem like my Scully?  How do you catch a 
cloud and pin it down?  How do you find a 
word that means my Scully?"  He turned to 
her, obviously expecting her to complete the 
lyric for him, but she only smiled, so he 
continued on his own.  "A flibberty-jibbit, a 
will-o'-the-wisp, a clown."

"You calling me a clown, Mulder?"

He turned to her and dabbed a handful of 
bubbles on her nose.  With a wink, he turned 
back to her legs and started a new song.

"So long, farewell, goodbye, aufwiedersehn.  
I'd like to stay and taste my first champagne 
-- yes?"  He turned to Scully again, a 
hopeful look on his face.

Scully picked up her cue. "No."

"Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens.  
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen 
mittens."

Mulder's singing would hardly qualify as 
being on key, but it pleased Scully 
nonetheless.  It was sweet, and best of all, 
it was meant only for her ears.

"Scully in bathtubs and all squeaky clean," 
he improvised, sliding the razor over the 
curve of her calf.  "Bright copper hair 
and . . ." He paused to roll up his already 
wet sleeves.  ". . . medical magazines."

She laughed.  "I never pegged you as a 
musical fan, Mulder."

He shrugged, scooping up water in his cupped 
palms and washing it over her raised leg.  
"For a whole year, that's all I heard.  It 
was Sam's favorite record."  His voice was 
wistful, but not melancholy.

Scully rubbed her foot along his arm lightly.  
"It was my favorite, too, until I was 
eleven."

"What happened when you were eleven?"

"I got mad and smashed it over Bill's head."

He chuckled and lowered her leg back into the 
water.  "So," he rinsed off the razor and 
rested on his haunches, "how do you go about 
shaving the rest of your legs?"

She smiled slowly.  "You have to stand up."

He mirrored her smile.  "Then stand up."

Without taking her eyes from his, she 
carefully stood, water and bubbles sliding 
off of her skin.  Mulder gave a soft sound of 
appreciation and reached for the shaving 
cream.  She spread her legs slightly, 
allowing him to cover the front and back of 
her thigh.

His hands smoothed the cream over her skin, 
his fingertips brushing tantalizingly close 
to the juncture of her legs, where her own 
moisture quickly gathered.  She bit her lip, 
watching as he concentrated on his task.

"You're very good at this," she commented, 
reaching down with a wet hand to stroke his 
hair.

He rinsed away the remaining lather and 
placed a soft kiss on the front of her thigh.  
"Turn around."

She turned, the cooling water swirling around 
her calves.  She braced herself against the 
tile shower wall, trembling as his hands 
snaked up to cup her ass.  He placed a kiss 
on each cheek before bringing the razor to 
her skin again.

He repeated the process with her other thigh, 
the lathering and stroking becoming kneading 
and caressing.  He rose on his knees until 
his face was level with the patch of hair 
between her legs and very carefully drew the 
razor along her bikini line.

Scully's lips parted as her breathing 
quickened.  She touched his hair again, this 
time leaving her fingers tangled in the dark, 
damp strands and gripping as he brushed his 
index finger over her in a feather caress.

He washed away the shaving cream and set the 
razor down next to the soap dish.  Placing a 
hand on either thigh, he rubbed his cheek 
against her leg.  "Silky smooth," he 
murmured, looking up at her.  She clutched 
her fingers in his hair again, and he turned 
his head, lightly rubbing his nose in the 
thatch of hair.  "Mm, Scully . . ."

"Yeah," she whispered, almost moaned.

His tongue darted out, tasting her, catching 
the droplets of water that dripped from her.  
He dipped further, swirling around the tight 
bud of her clit, delving between her swollen 
labia.  Now she did moan, moving her hand 
from his hair to brace herself on the shower 
wall behind her.  God, she thought out of 
nowhere, his knees must be killing him.

"Lie down."

He looked at her with an amusing combination 
of lust and relief, and lay down on his back, 
grabbing a towel and shoving it under his 
head as a makeshift pillow.  Scully climbed 
out of the tub and straddled him, lowering 
herself onto his mouth.

"Jesus, Scully," he moaned into her, grasping 
her thighs.  She arched her back, crying out 
as he licked and suckled and kissed.  She 
rocked her hips over him, feeling the 
delicious pressure building within her.

He gave a sound of complaint when she moved 
off of him, but then gave a silly laugh as 
she frantically worked to get his damp jeans 
and boxers off.  She shoved them down to his 
ankles, then straddled him again, grasping 
the base of his cock as she sank down onto 
him.

He smiled up at her, clutching her hips in 
his hands as she moved over him.  "So . . ." 
he panted, thrusting up into her, matching 
her rhythm.  "How's your day, Scully?"

She grinned, covering his hands with her own 
and guiding them up to her breasts.  "Getting 
better."

He thumbed her nipples and opened his mouth.  
Scully wondered if he would burst into song 
again, but he only moaned her name, arching 
his head back against the floor and exposing 
his throat.  She bent over him and licked him 
there, tasting salt and remnants of the 
bubble bath she had dripped on him.  She 
nipped at his throat, grinding her hips into 
him and snaking a hand down to stroke 
herself, making sure that her fingers 
included his slick cock as well with each 
pass.

She kissed his mouth, dragging her tongue 
along his plump lower lip.  "I'm coming," she 
whispered, and then she did.  Mulder was 
right behind her, calling her name hoarsely 
and bucking his hips as she clenched and 
milked his penis.

"Oh, man," he moaned when his body finally 
stilled.  He flung an arm over his forehead 
and licked his lips.  "You," he smiled up at 
her, "are fucking incredible."

Scully smiled sweetly, lifting herself off 
him.  "Thank you."  She reached for a 
washcloth and dipped it in the water.  

"Is your day fully better yet?" he asked as 
she gently cleaned both of them off.

She tossed the cloth back into the water and 
pulled the stopper out of the tub.  Bending 
over him again, she kissed him.  "Feed me, 
then ask me again."

END

The Improv elements were:

--Scully not being able to wear her usual 
three-inch heels because of an extremely 
vicious ingrown toenail.
--An autographed first edition of Bruce Lee's 
book "The Tao of Jeet Kune Do".
--Mulder shaving Scully's legs.
--Mulder having a laugh attack.
--Mulder singing a song from "The Sound of 
Music" to Scully.

Thanks to all on Scullyfic who helped me out 
with my quotes and comma woes.

Feedback lovingly hugged at spartcus1@msn.com