Title: Odd Habits (1/1)
Author: RocketMan >lbontger@wmcstations.com<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is
intended.
SPOILER::::REDUX:::::FTF::::(AKA:::THE XF MOVIE):::::
Dedication: This is for Shannon O'Conner and her great stories, no
matter what they're about, she makes it good. This is a first person
just for you.
CONTENT:::::MS/UST/MSR?
Odd Habits

=====
"Keep going, G-woman."
--Mulder, Redux
=====

Because the chill of ice and aliens hasn't worn off yet, I still am
taking long hot baths when I get up and when I get home.

For some reason, the cold has seeped into me.

Coming home today, I decided to take a new shortcut that someone
somewhere was talking about.

Let's just say: bad idea.

I'm never taking off-handed advice again.

I'll stick to the interstate from now on.

It's hot here, but in me, it's not. I had the windows rolled down and
sweat streaming from every pour and no air conditioner on, but I was
still bone deep cold.

I hate this.

And now, standing outside trying to fit the stupid key in the lock, I'm
balancing my coat and briefcase and purse and files and I can't seem to
make the door come-

Open. It's open.

I stumble through and let all my stuff clatter to the floor, not really
caring at this point. I know that when I wake up in the middle of the
night, anxious because it isn't put away, I'll rebuke myself for not
caring, but right now, I just want that hot bath.

I walk through the darkness and past the blinking message light and into
my dimly lit bedroom.

Actually dimly lit is an overstatement. It'a positive cave in here.
After the blinding white of three hours of ice until our rescue, I have
this thing about light. 

It bothers me.

I start the water running and come back to my bedroom, twisting the
blinds closed.

I yank off my shirt.

"Are you going to finish it this time?"

I jump and turn around, heart thudding, hand reaching for a gun I
already took off.

"Mulder! What the hell is your fetish with coming in my room in the
dark?"

"Oh. I fell asleep this time."

He comes away from the shadows and draws close, as if he is a vampire
ready to feast.

"In my room, in the dark?"

"I came to your place and I got worried when you didn't answer because I
expected you to be home a lot sooner. So I came in. I guessed you hadn't
gotten in yet, and sat down to wait."

"In my room, in the dark?"

"Well. . . yes."

I gape at him. "What is wrong with you?"

He pulls back. "What do you mean?"

"Mulder, that's not at all the norm. Of course, you're never in the
norm, but this is a little peculiar."

"What do you want me to say? That I enjoy surprising you while you
undress?"

<Yes, but that's also perverted.>

"No, Mulder." I sigh and grab for a T-shirt, realizing with some idiocy
that I am standing here fighting with him in a bra.

Oh well. He had to dress me in Antarctica. Like I really care at this
point.

"Do you want to wait while I take a bath?" I ask, yanking off my pant
suit and smiling a little as his eyes track my legs.

His breath gets fast and I duck my head to meet his eyes.

"Watch where you're looking, mister."

He gives me a sly grin and sinks to my bed. "I can either wait, or take
a bath with you, Agent Scully."

"Tempting, but no thanks. Try the couch. I know you have a special
relationship with those things. Maybe next time it needs cleaning, you
can come over and help even."

He chuckles. "Ooh. You're sassy today."

I shove his stomach in, pushing him aside. "Nope. Just fast."

He leaves my bedroom and I sink gratefully into the bed.

I'm still shaking and I'm glad he didn't notice. I strip off the shirt
and walk into the bathroom, turning off the taps and sliding into the
bubble bath.

Ohhhh........yeah. So nice.
~~~~~

"Scully, you plan on sleeping in the tub?"

I jerk my eyes open to see Mulder crouching beside the bathtub, a glint
of humor and satisfation in his eyes.

I close my eyes again. "If I want to, I will."

"Well, I'm done bonding with your sofa. How about I bond with you now?"

I snort. "Sure. After I have my couch fumigated."

He pouts and dips his hand into the water, pushing aside some bubbles.

My skin crawls as his hands swirl the water.

"Mulder?"

"Yup?"

"What are you doing?"

"Let's see. Testing the water?"

"You're not coming in here."

"Maybe I am."

I glare at him. There is no way I'm letting him get in the bathtub with
me.

"You are so odd, you know that Mulder?"

He tilts his head, eyes wide. "You know what Scully? I think your couch
said the same thing."

I roll my eyes and drift further into the bottom of the bathtub, away
from his fingers.

He puts his whole arm, up to his elbow, into the water, brushing my
thigh as his fingers slide past.

I decide it is better not to comment. I won't encourage him.

Then his other arm.

"What are you doing?"

He smiles a beautific smile that says he's managed to get the little boy
face down pat. He must know the power of his looks.

"I'm dipping my hands in this water."

"And why exactly are you doing this?"

"To watch you squirm."

I huff out a breath and glare at him again.

He laughs. "See? You're beautiful when you're squirming."

"I am not squirming."

He just tilts his head again and watches me.

I want to make *him* squirm.

He pulls his hands out and dries them on my towel, then begins taking
off his shoes and socks.

Soon his feet are in the tub, touching my side.

"Mulder, get your smelly feet out of my bath!"

He just looks at me.

I can feel my jaw work under the skin, and suddenly, I know exaclty how
to turn the tables on him.

"Fine. I'm getting out."

I raise up from the water immediately, stepping out and grabbing the
towel, but not putting it around myself until I'm well imprinted on his
wonderful memory and almost out the door.

I want to laugh at the expression I saw on his face as I got out, but
that would ruin it.

I reach for my shirt and pull it on, then towel dry my hair.

As I turn, strong hands catch me.

"You don't think you can do that and get away with it, do you?"

I make a teasing smile and turn to him, but freeze at the look in his
eyes.

Complete and total fervor burn deep in his eyes and I'm the fuel.

I shut up and stay still.

He pulls my hands from the towel and wraps his arms around me tightly,
crushing my body completely against his. And I'm still wet.

I feel his hands move, glide along my back, across my shoulders, down my
sides and I can't seem to breathe anymore.

I think I'm going to collapse.

He pushes me until my back hits the dresser and then his hands are
roaming everywhere, everywhere, everywhere on me, across hot hot skin,
down damp legs, through tangled hair.

Not once does he kiss me.

I want that so bad, just his lips on mine, finish what we started, end
my dreams of half kisses and bee stings.

He picks me up, pushes me over to the bed and lays me down.

I think my heart has decided to panic while my mind has decided to shut
down.

He winks.

Pulls the covers over me, tucks me in tightly, firmly.

Kisses my forehead.

"Sorry, Scully. Prior engagement with the couch. She gets lonely if I'm
not there."

And then he walks out.

I can hear him getting out the blanket from my closet, moving around on
the cushions, getting settled.

I moan into my pillow.

That man . . . that man . . . I'm either going to go postal on him one
day, or actually take him by surprise and kiss him.

Sighing, resigned, I close my eyes.

Images of Mulder's odd greeting habits flash before me.

I could scream.

Oh yeah, those files are still scattered on the floor.
~~~~~

end
so how was it? hit "reply to"
adios
RM


Title: Odd Habits II
Author: RocketMan >lbontger@wmcstations.com<

see part one

Dedication: This is for Red V and her cohorts in crime, who lovingly
convinced me (on threat of death) to continue this.

Odd Habits

=====
"Marry me."
--Mulder, Chinga
=====

Files.

In my living room floor, waiting to be picked up, put someplace in a
neat, orderly pile, waiting to be noticed again.

It's driving me crazy.

Crazy, crazy, crazy.

I have to go pick them up.

Maybe get back at Mulder too.

I feel my feet hit the floor before I realize I've even decided to go
out there, and my breath comes quick at the thought of him waiting,
waiting, like those files scattered on the floor.

It's dark in the living room. I can hear him breathe.

Slow, heavy breaths with long pauses as he dreams.

I tiptoe to the floor, gathering the files and the papers that have been
spilled from them, wishing I hadn't dropped everything like this.

Dang. I knew I'd hate that I'd done that.

"What are you doing?"

I jerk up, head popping over the couch to see his face, eyes white and
glowing in his skull.

I breathe again. "Uh, picking these up."

"At midnight?"

I frown. "They were bothering me."

"Oh? How's that? I'm in here, not you."

"I could just see them all scattered-"

"Uh-huh. And this keeps you from going to sleep? Tell me, Scully, just
how long have you had this problem and-"

"Shut up, Mulder. I just have to clean this up."

"I believe that's called Obsessive-Compulsive, and Scully, you can get
help for things like that."

"Ha ha. You're funny tonight."

"This morning. It's now morning."

"My bad. Morning. Mind going back to sleep?"

"Mind getting out of my makeshift bedroom?"

"It's my living room."

"Which I happen to be living in."

I stop.

I will not argue stupidly like this with him. I will not.

"Good-night Mulder."

"Good try Scully."

I pause and turn back, dumping the file folders onto a table.

"What do you mean, good try?"

"Getting back at me. It won't work. I'm shock proof."

I raise an eyebrow, standing over him, relishing a challenge.

"Oh really."

"Really. There's nothing you could do that would make me speechless or
frustrated or simply awed. Nothing."

"Nothing, huh?"

I watch his eys smile, his mouth quirk up and for a moment, I think he's
baiting me on purpose, trying to make me do this.

I sit on the couch and push him down, pulling the blanket up to his
chin.

"Well, if my singing didn't shock you, nothing will."

He looks a little disappointed, as if he wanted me to try.

"Scully?"

I nod.

"You could try singing again. See if it works when I'm healthy instead
of impaired."

"Mulder, you're always impaired."

A sigh and he shakes his head. "I was asking for that."

I smile. "Yes you were."

"So, I'll sleep now, if you're done spring cleaning that is."

"Not quite."

He glances over at me. "What else is there?"

I smile and he grows wary.

Leaning over, my face inches from him, I study his eyes.

I think he's just about to panic.

I brush my lips to his, running my tongue across them lightly, like a
feather.

I pull away, stand, do not look at him.

"You seemed a bit dusty." I say and do not turn back.

HA! How's that for speechless?
~~~~~

adios
RM


Title: Odd Habits III
Author: RM>lbontger@wmcstations.com<
Disclaimer: see part one

NOTES::::::READ THIS PLEASE::::

Due to the overwhelming amount of email I have received for this series,
I am continuing. (Sp?) So, this is for all of you who have replied and
asked or threatened for me to keep it going. Now, it isn't ever going to
resolve, I hope you realize this.......Also, due to some confusion, I
will set the record straight. I, RocketMan, am a woman. Yes, yes, I
swear. People have been confused online and I am trying to avoid that.
My name is Laura and I am using my Dad's email account. So, from now on,
I will sign RM for my name at all times in the author part. To those of
you archiving, go ahead and archive under RocketMan. If my putting RM
presents a problem for you, email me and I'll stop.
Adios

Odd Habits III

=====
"Must be fate, Mulder. Root Beer."
--Scully
=====

Okay.

So it really wasn't the files scattered on the floor that wouldn't let
me fall alseep.

It must be something else.

Maybe him.

Yeah, it's definitely him.

I'll just turn over on my side and clutch the pillow to me a bit
tighter, pull the covers up a bit more and pretend it just doesn't
matter.

Except that it's now his turn.

His turn.

And that *matters*.

There must be a whole managerie of buterflies in my stomach, flickering
down my legs, across my skin. . . . . 

I shake loose the covers and shiver, pushing everything away from me.

Nothing touching, nothing touching.

I think I just whimpered. How pitiful, how utterly idiotic to whimper
because I can feel his hands where the sheets should be.

This is giving me the willies.

I stand and creep to the door, breathing.

Breathing.

I run and jump back in bed.

I can't do this. I can't do this at all.

I squeeze my eyes so tight I can see the rainbows of chemical color on
my eyelids, the bright shots of dazzling yellow and red and green that
scream to the darkness "I am not afraid."

I hear a click and the snick of my door opening.

Oh, no, I'm afraid.

I slam my eyes tighter, then try to relax.

Relax.....hell, that's not happening.

I breathe, breathe, slow it down, breathe.......breathe.......breathe

I have to calm.

My heart stops fluttering like bird wings and I don't hear anything
anymore.

I thought......

Nothing.

Must be my overactive imagination--overactive since he stuck his hands
in my bath and imagination since I first *met* him.

COLD!!!!

His hands.

Oh.....my......gosh.......

What does he think he's doing?

Trailing his hands down my side like that, fignernails lightly skimming
my exposed skin, as if he did it every day.....

Every day......

I shiver despite the intense control I have over myself not to display a
reaction and I hope he hasn't felt it.

No such luck.

A nose, cold and soft, the scout for his lips, his breath, to wind their
way along my arm.

So agonizingly slow......

"Mulder...." My words come out breathless, stilted.

No response.

Just a tongue, flickering like those butterflies. A grin against my
skin.

I open my eyes.

His are closed.

What?

"Mulder?"

I touch his chest and he reels away, falling to the floor.

Watching him sprawl there in a moment of confusion, I simply stare, then
attempt to get down and help him.

"Mulder?"

He's blinking and looking around like he's got no clue where he is.

"Mulder....."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Scully. I must have been sleepwalking. Did I bother you
too much?"

I just look at him.

"Excuse me?"

He shuffles his feet, looking apologetic. "I know. It doesn't happen
very often, but once I ended up in my kitchen, eating a sandwich when I
woke up."

Well, eating is the right word, but I'm no sandwich....

"I'm sorry it woke you up. Go back to sleep Scully."

He turns and makes his way out, guiding himself expertly in the dark.

I can't tell if he really was sleepwalking or not....

Crawling into bed, I glance around. Shadows along the wall from the
trees outside look like witches' claws and pointy hats. The soft shadows
from furniture hide demons and monsters.

I shiver.

There's no way I'm falling asleep, not with the real life monster
outside on my couch.

He **licked** me.
=====

end 
adios
RM


Title: Odd Habits IV
Author: RM >lbontger@wmcstations.com<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox, each of whom
I hold in dearest respect ever since they admitted M&S lov for each
other in the form of a wide screen movie. Wasn't it so great?
MAJOR US5 SPOILERS
~~~~~
Odd Habits
~~~~~
"Is that official FBI business?"
--Dr. Kurtzweil, FTF
~~~~~

I've forgotten why the hell I let him in here tonight.

Oh yeah, he was already here.

And I let him stay? How crazy is that?

Crazy. We're all going crazy. Crazy since he came to me one night and
said that the only way to find the truth was to make our own lies, lies
that included his own death, my own loss.

Crazy. Definitely crazy.

Crazy for him to come to the hospital and kiss my forehead, my cheek, my
hand. Crazy for him to come with a chip to stick back in me. Crazy for
me to be on a bridge and watch others burn. Crazy for a little boy to be
able to read minds, to read my own flickering love for Mulder. Crazy for
us to try to kiss in his hallway as I cried and as he thought he'd lose
me forever.

I shudder.

We've gone nuts.

And tonight more than proves it.
~~~~~

There are too many shadows now, too many things creeping through the
dark.

Mulder and his shadows, Mulder and his creatures that hide in the light
and eat humans at night.

Yuck.

I just want to go to sleep.

Or maybe not. What I *want* to do would be another one of those crazy
things that just shouldn't be happening anymore. Ever.

It seems my body has decided to take control for the night, because here
I am, at the door, breathing again.

There is silence now.

Silence. Tomb-like, speaking of forever and dirt and buried alive.

Speaking of leaving behind an old, worn-out body for a new, glorified
creation.

I like the second idea much better. Much better.

The door snicks open and creaks lowly as it swings through the darkness
of the hall.

The small things click and scratch like little rat claws, and the big
things hum and groan like old men getting put to bed for the last time.

I step to the first floorboard and hold my breath as it creaks.

Nothing.

I tread lightly down the hall, stopping to watch for ghosts or phantoms
in the mirror, then turn into the living room and my couch.

He's sprawled.

That's the best word for it.

Sprawled. A good word for how Agent Mulder is most of the time. Legs and
arms hanging every which way, mind off on a thousand tangents while I'm
still stuck here, prim and proper and neat and tidy.

His arms are flung up, one leg practically hanging off the back of the
couch, other leg touching the floor. His eyes roll with dreams, his body
shudders in either fear or ecstasy, and his fingers twitch as if he is
touching, touching, touching.

Always he touches.

I slide up to his worn out looking face and peer into his blank, riddled
expression.

His eyes pop open.

I jerk away as he starts up, drawing his body back into some semblance
of order while I try to convince myself that he was *not* simply waiting
for me to come for him.

He was *not.*

"Scully?"

"Yeah."

"What are you doing?"

I glance to him, picking out a convoluted story that would involve
danger and drama and a little bit of coldness, enough to keep him from
asking anything more.

"Well, I-"

"No wait, never mind. I don't want to know."

What a dirty little man.

"Mulder. I was not-"

"No, don't tell me. I don't want to even hear about your sleepwalking or
other such excuse."

"Was sleepwalking an excuse?"

Suddenly he looks trapped.

My mouth drops open and I stare right at him, more turned on than mad,
but I can't let *him* see that.

"You weren't sleepwalking?!"

He chuckles suddenly and yanks me down to sit next to him.

"Hell, no, Scully. You think I'd do that in my sleep?"

"I was hoping.....you did that even in your sleep."

His eyes turn dark and wicked and I suddenly think maybe teasing him
isn't such a good idea. He's not used to this from me.

"Uh..."

"Stay right here, Scully."

"Mulder, maybe I should-"

His hands touch mine, slide right on past my knuckles, to my wrist,
along my arm and skimming my elbow.

It's kind of heady, making me just a bit nauseous and hungry all at the
same time.

"You're staying right here."

I can only nod, let him take back my control, let him decide whatever he
wants to decide, because I don't want to think.

If I started to think, I'd remember how crazy this is.

He gently moves me right next to him, spooning his body around mine,
slipping his hands to my stomach, his chin to my shoulder.

I close my eyes, forget to breathe.

"Scully?"

I think I couldn't answer him, even if I wanted to.

"You do know how much I want you?"

There's no breath, no words, no thought.

There's no reality anymore, no straight lines and places to go.

I shake my head slightly, move to see his face, to know his eyes, know
his features more incredibly in this moment than any other.

As I turn my head, as I move to find him, his hands slide up my sides,
like water fire, along the curve of my breasts and to my face, holding
me.

Holding me.

His lips whisper to mine and meet.

Meet.

I know how much he wants me.
~~~~~

end
adios
RM
am I just killing you?


Title: Odd Habits V 
Author: RM >lbontger@wmcstations.com<

~~~~~
Odd Habits 
~~~~~
"You're my one in five billion."
--Mulder
~~~~~

"I need you, Scully."

Stop, stop stop stop stop stop.......

"Please," stop.

He's too close, too here, too much a part of me.

"Please," stop.

Tell him to stop. Tell him to stop.

His mouth is too agile, his hands too soft, his breath too close.

"Scully, I need you."

"No, no, no. Not like this."

His actions still, his hands freeze to my arms, eyes downcast. He's
still behind me, arms circling me, breathing.

I lift my hand to touch his face, to stroke his cheek, let him know
somehow that I don't want this to hurt him.

A brush of his lips across my fingers and I can't think anymore.

But I feel.

I feel wrong. Wrong for letting him do this. Wrong for allowing this to
keep on. Wrong for not knowing if I truly, truly need him like this.

I want him. No doubt.

Do I need him like this?

His arms draw tight around me, nose pressed into my neck, eyes still far
away from mine.

I want him to understand. Maybe he does.

"Everything will change." I say, dumbly.

He snorts, brings his lips back to my ear, skimming lightly along the
edges.

I feel my throat making noises, my body getting too hot.

"Not right now," I say.

He ignores me again, lets his fingers trail down my arms, then back,
then across the skin of my shoulders. . . forever and ever and ever.

But he's not trying to take my clothes off, he's not trying to get out
of his pants, he's just . . . just . . . seducing me?

"Mulder?"

"Just this, Scully, just tonight."

I want to laugh, cry, beg him not just tonight.

"Not just tonight."

His eyes stray toward mine, his brown-black covered with shine.

"Not just tonight," I repeat softly, echoing my earlier words, needing
him to know that I do, do want him.

I am twisted in front of him, my back pressed to his chest, head turned
to see his face as he says nothing, only moves.

I crawl around until I'm in his lap, curled up tight, closing my eyes
and letting each river of feeling course through me, rapids and currents
and still water all.

My breathing is funny, all fast, then slow, then hitched.

Every place, he knows every sensitive nerve in every part of my skin.

He's always been the one to give, to give and just keep on thinking only
about me, never himself.

"Mulder.....you make me weak...."

His face is surprised, his hands shake a bit and he kisses the top of my
head.

"Why do you say that?" he asks, rubbing his thumbs along my chin and
cheeks.

I smile. "Because you do. I can hardly move."

He tilts his head, looking and thinking and maybe plotting.

"But . . . you don't . . . can't stand to be weak."

I blink, confused. Is he hurt that I said that?

"Not . . . it's okay. I know you're not going to hurt me, to ruin my
career or anything. You know me, Mulder. How more vulnerable to you
could I get?"

His eyebrows twitch and I see that old, sensual look in his eyes again.

I raise my eyebrow, smirking. "And I know you, too, Mulder. So stop
that."

"Hm. Maybe not...."

His nose touches mine, our foreheads together, and he licks his lips.

His tongue is so close, I can almost feel the moisture there.

One little tilt of my head, and he's there, right there where I want him
to be.

I turn, my lips brush his and meet, then glance off. He follows my
retreat and overtakes me, pushing back.

He's not trying for anything more. I guess five years of waiting, of
nothing, speaks of good will power.

Or simply affirms his own wonderfully caring nature.

I want to tell him, reassure him that I love him, but he'd think of it
in the wrong way, and I'm not sure if I mean it like that.

I'd never lie to him about this.

He'd never let me, anyway.

He groans suddenly, hips moving unconsciously, making me bite my lip.

"Mulder . . . I think . . ."

"Okay. I know. Okay."

He stops attacking my mouth and moves away, taking my hand.

I watch him, cautious for that bruised male pride.

He sighs, but dips his body back to the couch, pulling me with him.

I lay next to him, tense and waiting.

"I'm not a bomb, Scully. I'm okay. I won't bite."

I smile, my mouth, curving slightly to see his face.

(I know this was wrong, I know this was being such a tease, but then . .
.)

I take his earlobe with my teeth and then kiss it.

"You can bite," I say.

His arms curl tighter around me and he shakes his head.

"You'd better stop that."

I lay my head back to his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of another
person, of Mulder.

He shifts to give me more room, but I crowd close to him, hoping he'll
understand that I'm not trying to be . . . cold.

I don't want him thinking that ever.

Ever.

His lips land on my cheek. "Good night, Scully."

"Good night."

"Oh, and no more sleepwalking, hunh?"

I smile. "No more."

Not tonight anyway.
~~~~~

end
adios
RM