TITLE: Conversation Piece (1/2) AUTHOR: Jess EMAIL ADDRESS: jessica@amazon.com DISCLAIMER: Not mine. No, no. DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere, just let me know. SPOILERS: Not really, though I make a couple oblique references. I don't know titles, but up through season six. RATING: R, maybe even a little sexier, depending on your tastes... CONTENT WARNING: Some phone sex. Woopdedo. CLASSIFICATION: MSR, no story at all. SUMMARY: Mulder is in the hospital, recovering from a gunshot wound to the head, and decides Scully ought to quit and lead a normal life. He calls to talk to her about this. It's really just an excuse for smut. It's also all in conversation format, no prose at all. Kind of a fun writing exercise. This is my first fan fic, so be kind. Email me, I love it. "Scully." "Hey Scully, it's me." "Mulder, how did you get your cel phone?" "That's what nurses are for, Scully." "How exactly did you get a nurse to bring it to you at eleven o'clock at night?" "These are special nurses, Scully. They love me. They'd do anything for me. I have one rubbing my temples as we speak." "Mulder, the only time those women should be rubbing your temples is when they change your bandages. I may have to exercise my Bureau authority, come over and kick some butt. You're supposed to be sleeping." "So are you." "I'm not the one with the head wound, Mulder, remember?" "Ah, but you're the only one who was shot by their partner. And I'm the only one lying awake at night feeling enormously guilty about it." "Mulder, I've shot you before, as you always seem to forget." "Did you lie awake at night fretting?" "Not really." "See, Scully, that's what I'm talking about. I'm all alone here. I need company." "What happened to the bimbo nurses?" "I don't need a bimbo nurse. I need you." "All right, Mulder. I won't hang up on you. I may fall asleep at some point, but until then you have my undivided attention." "Good. This may be my only chance." "For what?" "To talk you into leaving me? leaving the x-files." "Mulder, you're on drugs. I'm not discussing this with you again." "I am on drugs, Scully, lots of 'em. But I'm serious about this. I shot you, for God's sake." "Reality check, Mulder. You did what was necessary." "I could have killed you." "I can still come in there, pull out your I.V. and take you down, so don't tempt me." "I nearly killed you, Scully. I can't stand that." "Get over it. I did. And I did it first. There was no precedent, Mulder. How was I to know you would go on to ask for my hand in marriage?" "Very funny. You laughed at me, as I recall. Scully, I want you to consider leaving. For my sake." "Ok, I've considered it. No." "Will you humor me here, me, the sickie?" "I have a minor gunshot wound to my shoulder, Mulder, so the sickie routine will not play with me." "Humor me because I love you, Scully." "Gee, Mulder, you're so sweet when you're on drugs." "Ok, humor me or I'll keep asking until you go mad." "I'll humor you." "Thank you." "No problem. What am I humoring you about?" "I want to present you with a scenario, Scully. A glimpse of your future, back in the real world." "Ooo, I can hardly wait." "Sarcasm aside, I need you to picture this? you, now head of forensic pathology and instruction at Quantico. I know they've offered it to you, more than once. So there you are, working late one night, several weeks after you started. You're all alone in your office?" "I have an office?" "Of course." "With a desk?" "Yes. I see where this is leading, Scully. And a nameplate on the door, ok? It says Dr. Dana Scully, Forensic Pathology. It's all yours. There are no weird alien posters anywhere." "Can I have one weird alien poster, maybe that National Enquirer shot of the Flukeman?" "Yes. Now can I go on?" "Of course, I'm just trying to set the stage." "It's really not that important, Scully." "See, Mulder, there you go. My office is unimportant. I'm surprised I get a desk at all. Why not just a locker in the hall?" "Scully? can I continue?" "Feel free, great sage." "Right. So there you are, alone, working late. There's a knock on your office door. The door opens and a man pokes his head in." "What man?" "A man you used to know. An old friend." "Mulder, I have no old friends. They all abandoned me when I started talking about alien abductions and lost time." "Humor me, Scully, means humor me, not mock me." "Go on then. What does he look like?" "What do you mean?" "You know, is he tall or short?" "Definitely not short." "Thin and wimpy, or well-built?" "He works out, you know, occasionally. Not obsessively though." "Dark or blond?" "You seem to prefer dark. But then you also seem to prefer short and wimpy?" "Ok, smart ass, dark. What color are his eyes, blue or brown?" "Jesus, Scully, I don't know? somewhere in-between." "There is no in-between, Mulder." "Cut me some slack, Scully. Use your imagination as you see fit." "Hazel." "Hazel?" "Yes, I like hazel." "You do?" "Sure." "Good, ok. Hazel. All right. So? you're surprised, and pleased to see him. He mentions that he was in the building, working on a case, and asks if you've got a minute to chat." "Do I? I sound awfully busy." "You do. So he says: So, Scully, how do?" "Wait. He calls me Scully? Who is this guy, Mulder?" "No, you're right. No one calls you Scully in this life. He calls you Dana." "It sounds familiar, Mulder? it's ringing bells? my God, it's my name." "Nice. So he says: Hello, Dana? I just wanted to stop by and see if you'd like to go out to dinner tomorrow." "What do I say? Do I like this guy, or is he a dork?" "He's no dork, Scully. You like him, I think. A lot. So you say yes." "Good. I need a date, Mulder. My life is a big dry desert of sorrow." "Get over it. He says he'll pick you up tomorrow at six." "Won't I still be hard at work, slaving?" "It's Friday night. Tomorrow is Saturday." "Right, of course. So what next?" "So you spend Saturday afternoon relaxing before the big event. You hang out, watch a little football?" "Whose date is this again, Mulder, yours or mine?" "Yours. Anyway, by six o'clock, you're dressed and ready to go." "What am I wearing?" "You're kidding, right?" "No seriously, Mulder, this is your little fantasy? so what am I wearing?" "Um? ok, you know that black dress you wore to the Bureau dinner last year? The one with the teeny little straps?" "The tight one?" "That's the one. And open-toed sandals with big high heals. And toe-nail polish. Red. And you have your hair up. Like it?" "Bare legged?" "Indeed. Very bare." "Ok, I can see that. Moving on." "He knocks at precisely six, carrying flowers." "A dozen red roses, right?" "Give the guy some credit, Scully. A large bouquet of cornflowers, which are, incidentally, the exact color of your eyes." "Nice touch. I like him better already. What's he wearing?" "I don't know. What do you want him to wear?" "Black jeans, a black t-shirt and boots." "He's your date, Scully, not an international terrorist." "It's sexy." "Whatever. So he takes you to that little French restaurant you've been dying to go to for months. La Petite Couchon or whatever." "Mulder, that's "The Little Piggy" in French." "Right. You know the one I mean." "I do." "Ok, so he takes you there. You get a nice little chicken thing, very slimming. He orders red wine. Good red wine, not like that crap we always get with the Chinese. Then he asks you about your new job. He wants to hear all about it." "Mulder, it's Eddie Van Blundt, isn't it?" "No, Scully. It's you date. It's whomever you want. So you tell him about your new position. It's a little lonely, but you're getting used to it. There's no danger, no fear involved. He tells you how rested and beautiful you look." "How beautiful?" "Sometimes when he looks at you across the table, he forgets to breathe. That's how beautiful, Scully." "Wow. Ok, he's gaining points. Go on." "You say you feel great. Healthy for the first time in years. You sleep through the night. He tells you about his job, says it's lonely too, but less stressful for him than it's been in a long time. He looks rested and healthy too. You comment on the change." "Do I tell him how handsome he is?" "Maybe, but unlike some, he doesn't crave compliments." "Low blow. He just lost points." "He likes hearing it, Scully, sometimes. But he's not fishing." "So he's not vain." "No. Not at all." "And he's not self-obsessed." "No. Ok, he's a little self-obsessed. But not tonight. Not with you." "Is he on some sort of weird mystical quest?" "Not anymore, but he knows what it's like to search for something, to suffer disappointment and keep going." "I like him. What next?" "He asks if you'd like to dance." "Ooo, he dances?" "He does, on occasion." "What song is playing?" "I don't know, it's a French restaurant. Something by Edith Piaf." "Blah." "Go with me, Scully." "Ok, we're dancing." "It's nice. He holds you close. You lean your head on his chest, you can feel his heart beating. He's happy to be with you, he's excited." "How excited?" "Knock it off. This is your first date." "Right. So we're dancing, it's nice, now what?" "Demanding, aren't we? You finish up the evening with a walk around the reflecting pool." "Us, and the drug dealers." "You aren't worried." "Did I enjoy myself?" "Yes. You did. For the first time in a long time, Scully. He makes you laugh. He's crazy about you already. You've won him, heart and soul." "All this on a first date?" "No, you won him the first time he saw you." "When was that, exactly?" "Um? you worked together, on a case. You thought he was weird, but intriguing. He thought you were the most incredible thing he'd ever seen, but you intimidated the shit out of him." "Really? I intimidated him?" "Sure. You still do, a little." "But he's had a nice time, right? He wants to see me again?" "Yes. Every day, if it's possible." Cont. in part two... Conversation Piece (2/2) by Jess "Does he offer to drive me home?" "Sure, he's a gentleman." "Do I invite him up?" "Jesus, Scully, I don't know. Do you?" "I think I do." "Alright. You ask him up." "Does he try to kiss me in my hallway?" "Um? do you want him to?" "Badly. He looks so sexy in those black jeans. He's been killing me all night." "He has? I mean, ok, he has. So he leans close, pins you up against the door." "He has a habit of invading my personal space, I think. But I like it." "You do? Good, because he's very, very close now. You can feel his breath on your lips. He tried to kiss you once before, but it didn't happen." "Why not?" "Things came up." "Ah? so this is something we've both wanted for a long time." "Yes. So he brushes your lips. He's tentative. He doesn't want to rush things. Then he feels your mouth opening to his. He wants this so badly, he can't stand it any longer. He grabs you, maybe a little roughly, pushes you back against the door and kisses you deeply." "He tastes like cinnamon and salt and sex, I think." "Jesus, he does?" "Yes. Just like I thought he would." "I think you'd taste like wine and chocolate, not that I've been thinking about it." "Right, but he has." "Yes." "So is that it, that's the end of my date?" "Um? God, don't you think it should be?" "No? I don't. What happens next, Mulder? This is your little scenario?" "Scully, I'm not sure?" "You want to convince me to leave my job, Mulder, this had better be good. Besides, I like how he's kissing me. I want more. A lot more." "Oh God? um? ok, you don't ask him in." "Mulder?" "Wait, Scully. You fish in your bag and grab your keys. You feel around behind you for the door and open it. You can't stop kissing him, you won't. So the door opens and you both stumble through. You kick it shut. He has you up against the door again, rubbing against you, touching you." "Where?" "Oh, God, everywhere." "I want him to touch my breasts, Mulder." "You do? God, Scully, he's wanted to? he thinks about touching you all the time." "I know. I think about him, too. I imagine things." "Christ, Scully, I can't do this." "Why?" "Because. It's too close." "You wanted this, Mulder. You wanted me in this place." "I know. I didn't think you'd take it so far." "Keep going." "God. He brings you to the couch and you lay down, waiting for him." "What's he doing?" "Taking off his shirt." "Yes. I like that." "He's on top of you, kissing you. He can feel your body there and it's killing him. He wants you so badly." "What does he want, Mulder? Tell me." "He wants to be inside you." "I want him to be." "You do? My God." "I wiggle out from under him, stand up, and let my dress fall. I'm wearing a black lace bra, Mulder, and matching panties." "Oh? I? He pulls you down, straddling him. You can feel how aroused he is, Scully. He's pressing against you." "He undoes the clasp on my bra and brings his mouth to my breast." "Yes, and you taste like sugar. Like cotton candy in his mouth. You melt there." "I moan, like this?" "God, you do? He kisses you again, tangles his hands in your hair. You move and he gasps." "I want him to take his pants off." "You unbutton them, and he kicks them off." "He forgot about his boots." "Christ, Scully, he doesn't care. They're gone. He's naked before you, beneath you." "So am I." "Yes. Oh God, Scully. I can't stand this." "Why? Isn't it what you wanted?" "Yes. I? he needs you, Scully. He wants to taste you. He licks you." "Where, Mulder? Where does he put his tongue?" "On you, in you. You taste so sweet. Jesus, he's shaking with desire." "So am I. Do I come?" "Oh, oh yes. Yes, you do." "Then I want him inside me, now." "I? Christ, Scully. He kisses you again. Then he leans close. He wants to tell you something, Scully, so much it consumes him. He has to tell you." "Tell me." "He loves you. He always has. He doesn't want to go any further without you knowing that. You must know that." "I do, Mulder. I know. But there's a problem." "What? Jesus, what?" "I don't love him back. Mulder?? Mulder, are you still there?" "I'm here, Scully." "Aren't you even going to ask why?" "I don't want to know, I think." "You do, Mulder." "I think you've told me this once before. I mentioned this subject and the response was, and I quote, 'Oh brother.'" "Mulder, calm down. Ask me why." "Why, Scully, don't you love him?" "Because he isn't you." "What?" "You heard me. This man, lovely as he is, nice as he's been, isn't you. You never take me to French restaurants. I'm lucky if I get cold pizza. You never bring me cornflowers. When you did bring me flowers, you insisted you stole them. You don't know jack about wine and you don't dance, as far as I know. You never listen to what I say without butting in or cutting me off. But if I quit the x-files, Mulder, if I left, I would have to live every day without you. I couldn't bear it, even with all your faults. So that's why I don't love him, Mulder. And without that, it's just sex. It's only with you that it would be anything more?. Mulder, are you there?" "I'm here. I'm dying, but I'm here." "Your head wound isn't fatal." "But you are. Jesus, Scully, how could you do that to me?" "Because, Mulder, each time you ask me to quit, each time you want me to leave, that's exactly how it feels." "I had no idea." "Now you do. Do you still want me to make love to that guy?" "No, God no. Scully?" "Yes." "Do you remember your threat to exercise your power with these nurses?" "Absolutely." "Do it. I need to see you. Right now." "It's nearly mid-night. You need your rest." "Scully, there are only two ways I'm going to rest tonight. One is I jack off and lie here in a cold, congealing puddle of my own juice, or two, I fall asleep with you in my arms. Have pity, Scully." "I'll see you soon, Mulder. Don't start anything without me." "I'll be lying right here." "I know. And Mulder?" "Yes, Scully." "I do love you. I'm sorry for the 'oh brother' thing." "Just get over here and we'll talk about your penance." That's it, folks. Normally, I don't write smut at all. Normally, I write screenplays. So this is great practice. Jess