LAST YEAR...THIS YEAR
By Char Chaffin
MSR, PG-13, AU
Spoilers:  "Arcadia"

Disclaimer:  Clones on loan

Dedication:  Sdani is having a birthday today! Happiest of
birthdays, my dear!

Thanks: To Foxsong, for breakfast beta!


Summary:  What a difference a year makes...


"Last Year...This Year"

**************

Last Year

"Mulder, speaking of cleaning up... whoever taught you how to
squeeze a tube of toothpaste?"

Out of the corner of his eye he notes the strangled tube.  Nothing
wrong as far as he can see; when you need a squirt of toothpaste you
grab it and squirt, right?  Women are all too picky about such
things.  

He mulls over specifics from a case he still isn't sure they should
even have received.  It's almost an insult.  This isn't an X-File. 
He's not sure what it is, really - but he's more sure of what it
isn't.  Yet he's going along with it - and the whole reason he hasn't
bailed is the woman presently in the bathroom giving him a rash of
shit about the toilet seat.

"Third warning.  Toilet seat."  When he hears it flush he hides a
grin.  This case could actually be fun, if she'd unbend just a
little.  She wouldn't have to bend very far, not at all.  Once in a
while over the past few days he's caught the ghost of a smile playing
about her lips.  She wants to enjoy it; he's convinced of that.  But
Agent Scully hasn't quite learned how to be 'just Dana' around him,
and truthfully he's been somewhat at fault for that, too.  It's just
so damned easy to fall into the old 'tease and retreat' pattern with
her; he's been doing it for so long he wonders if he knows any other
way to react to her.

Her attempt to thwart his fledgling 'desires' for her are duly
registered when she emerges from the bathroom in the thickest damn
bathrobe he's ever seen, covering her from chin to shin and shoulder
to wrist.  It's certainly not seductive and definitely designed to
make him feel as though he's in the room with his cousin, or maybe a
spinster aunt.  The load of thick and greenish face glop is a nice
touch as well.  She looks like a startled librarian who just got
'pied' on the 'Soupy Sales' show... And yet as she bustles in, no
doubt expecting him to run from the room in horror, all he can do is
stare at her, think how utterly cute she looks - and plot how he can
cuddle her next to him on the bed and lick the cream off her face.

Of course he gets shot down.  Of course he has to leave the room and
find his own sleeping arrangements.  There's a bed in the guest
bedroom.  Thankfully he thought to put a small television in there as
well.  He won't get any sleep but the sound of the TV will lull him
into a sense that he's back in his apartment watching 'Twilight Zone'
or perhaps 'National Geographic'... and wishing as usual he was
snuggled in with Scully, instead.  He sighs as he strips down to his
boxers, and crawls between the covers, the flickering light from a
nineteen-inch screen his only illumination in a room that feels
colder for lack of her.  Just another night in Paradise, right?

As he stares at the screen and feels its hypnotic pull, he thinks to
himself that someday, things will be different for him.  Someday he
won't let her chase him from the room.  Someday he'll actually lick
that green gook from her pretty face, and he won't care if it tastes
like cucumbers or avocado, or some other nasty formula that by nature
or science has to turn green in the chemical process.  And when he
reaches her skin...

Mulder falls asleep with a slight smile on his own face, thinking of
that 'someday'.

***********************

Ths Year

"Mulder... you mangled the toothpaste again.  How on earth do you
manage to tie the damned tube in a knot?"  

From the bed he grins and relaxes against the pillows, the muted
sounds of the television providing enough sound to keep him from
dozing off. It's been another long day and his body is screaming for
sleep.  But not until she emerges from the bathroom.  Not until he
sees that bathrobe, and that pretty face...

The toilet flushes noisily a scant few seconds after her affronted
mumble of, "Seat up, AGAIN," reaches his ears.  His grin gets wider. 
He settles himself against propped-up pillows, waiting.  He can feel
the anticipatory trembles, deep inside.  Any moment now, she'll come
out of that bathroom...

"Mulder, did you hear me?  You left the seat up, again.  I sat on
cold-as-ice porcelain..."  Her voice drifts off when she enters the
bedroom, and sees him on the bed, grinning from ear to ear.  It sets
off her own smile, and she shakes her head in exasperation and moves
to the bed.  She sits next to him and reaches out a hand to ruffle at
his hair, a hand he catches in mid-ruffle and holds in his own.  He
brings it to his lips and kisses the palm, feeling tiny tremors under
the soft skin, seeing the melt in her eyes and the flush on cheeks
free of green gook.  He would have cleaned it off for her quite
gladly - with his tongue - but she doesn't wear it anymore.  In fact,
she tossed out the jar a few months ago, when she stopped hiding from
him, in every sense.

Mulder stretches out his free hand, tugs at the silky bathrobe
covering her shoulders.  It's loosely tied, a lace-trimmed bit of sin
that barely reaches mid-thigh and slips down her arms from shoulder
to elbow.  It's smoky-colored and sexy and she giggled in delight
when she opened the box on her birthday and lifted it out of its
tissue nest - and the kiss she gave him was sweeter than sweet.  

The color is a killer against her creamy skin and flaming hair.  He
knew it would be.  A big improvement from that thick terry-cloth bulk
she wore a year ago, when they spent a few frustrating and dangerous
days in a nightmare called 'Arcadia'.  Back then she was fighting to
keep him at arms' length, but this year...

This year her arms snake around his neck and pull him close, the
smoky and silky robe a small puddle around her hips.  Under it she's
naked except for a pair of pale cream bikini panties.  This year her
breasts push into him as she strains to be closer, finally leaning
back into the pillows and taking him with her, not satisfied until
he's pressing her down into the sheets with all of his weight settled
in between her slender, open thighs.  

This year her eyes are glittering with love and desire as they stare
up into his; this year her lips cling to his as he kisses her, at
first lightly and gently, then more firmly, more passionately.  This
year the taste of her response would buckle him at the knees if he
were standing instead of sprawled over her like an eager blanket of
flesh and muscle...

"Mulder, you need lessons on how to live with a woman.  You never,
never leave the seat up.  You need to feel what it's like to sit on
that cold, hard porcelain, and you'll understand what I mean."  Her
words are meant to be a chastisement but they come out as a low moan
in his mouth, as he kisses them from her tongue as fast as she can
speak them.  He nods as he kisses.  Right now he'll promise her
anything as long as she never stops kissing him, never stops twining
herself around him.  Somehow his boxers have slipped from his waist
to his knees and the slick satin of her panties feel like heaven
against his overheated and swollen flesh -

"And the tube of - " He stops her right there.

"Yes, baby.  I'll never squeeze it in the middle again, I promise. 
I'll never let your pretty cheeks touch that cold, nasty rim again, I
promise as well.  I'll carry you to the toilet, every time you need
to use it.  I'll warm the seat with my breath, before you sit on it."
His voice is dramatic and impassioned and she giggles into his neck.

Her eyes glisten with laughter as she catches the liquid adoration
in his, the look he tries to tone down with humor.  And of course,
she knows better...  "Well, you don't have to go quite that far,
Mulder.  Although I appreciate the, um, zeal of your sincerity.  But
if I ever feel the need to be carried into the bathroom, I'll be
sure to let you know."

"See that you do, Scully."  

No more words, not right now.  The TV flickers across the room, its
sound muted.  The panties are now a tiny mound of cream next to his
boxers and her soft and smoky robe.  As their kisses deepen, as their
bodies tangle together, as he slips deep into her welcoming body...
Mulder sends thanks to several different realms of Deity, for the
changes from last year, to this year.  He's not exactly sure how and
unable to pinpoint when - he is just thankful it changed.  And so is
she.  

Last year the gulf between them went farther than a thick bathrobe
and green face glop.  Last year the miscommunication between them was
the stuff of legends.

This year a piece of paper couldn't slide itself between their
clinging bodies.  This year the communication is so tightly woven it
transcends the spoken... goes all the way to soft and heartfelt
moans, hoarse groans and endearments that don't quite sound like
names - but they know exactly who they are and what it means.

Yes, it's going to be a very good year.

The best.

end

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SDANI!!!

So kind of you to read!  Email me anytime!  char@chaffin.com
My fic has a home, come and visit!  http://char.chaffin.com