"L'eau Bon" by Dianora 1/1 Finished 2/26/99 Category: S, R Keywords: MSR Rating: NC17. Not all that explicit, actually, but smutty nonetheless. Spoilers: "Agua Mala" Archive: Wherever as long as my name is attached. Disclaimer: I don't even *want* to own them, okay? Summary: An alternate ending to "Agua Mala," one that would have made the episode a great deal more enjoyable. What if Mulder and Scully hadn't found their way to the apartment complex? Feedback to Dianora2@aol.com. Thanks to MD1016 for pointing out to this Northeastern Girl a few things about hurricanes. This idea took hold of me as I was watching the episode, and I decided I just had to go with it.... Smooth, opaque expanses of water, and for the first time in her life Scully truly understood the phrase "sheets of rain." The rain eddied and swirled on the planes of the car windows, but nonetheless remained stubbornly cohesive, blanketing, shutting out all contact with the outside world. Seeing as how they were stranded in the middle of the Florida sticks, Scully felt that might be a good thing. Mulder gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white in the dim illumination afforded by the car headlights and the ghastly glow of the dashboard, and shook his head in frustration. "It's no use, Scully. I can't see a damn thing. I'm worried we'll run right into a tree, or even worse, a person." "Well, what else are we supposed to do? We have to find shelter somewhere if we're not going to be able to fly back tonight." And what a pity that was, too. When the Shipley house yielded nothing (to her mind) out of the ordinary, she had begun to fantasize about getting back to DC in time to burrow into her warm, dry bed for the night. Dry, yes. Dryness was key. "I'm pulling over," her partner said decisively. "Pulling over where?" she countered. "For all you know, once you pull over we'll still be stopped in the middle of the road, and I don't see how that's going to alleviate matters." Not to mention that I don't exactly relish the prospect of being cooped up in this car with you for the duration of the storm, she added silently. Where was the National Guard when you needed them? Oh, for some men in uniform... Mulder bit down on his lower lip and squinted out the windshield. "I'm taking my chances," he said, and with grim determination he inched the car to the right, turning the wheel ever so slowly, until he decided - somehow -- that they were off of the road itself. He turned the engine off, and with the cessation of the windshield wipers came a loud rushing of water as it cascaded over the roof and down the hood. The rain continued to pelt the vehicle not with spattering drops but with gushes of water, slamming against the roof above their heads, beating at the windows. The wind howled like a hound baying on the moors in a late-night Gothic movie. Mulder left the headlights on, but they barely provided any light at all in the interior of the car, instead casting a weak, almost unearthly luminescence in the gloom. "It's just until it lets up," Mulder told her in what was obviously meant to be a reassuring tone. It didn't work. She tossed him a sidelong glare and folded her arms over her chest, hunching down into her coat, although she wasn't so much cold as she was clammy. "And what if the car gets swept away before then?" "How long can you tread water?" he cracked with a grin. She dug her fingernails into her palm to keep from slapping him. "I hope Mr. Dales' trailer hasn't been swept away," she said instead, picturing the old geezer doing the doggy paddle as his mobile home filled with rainwater. It was actually a fairly comical image, and she had to suppress an amused snort. "Dales'll be fine," Mulder assured her. "He knows how to take care of himself." "If he's not too drunk to notice," she muttered. "What's the matter, Scully? You don't go for older men?" he asked, baiting her. "These days I don't go for men at all," she said sourly. Let him puzzle that one out, she thought with satisfaction. She could feel him staring at her, but when she refused to look over at him he faced front once more, thrumming his fingertips on the steering wheel. Had she managed to hurt his feelings? She had to admit the possibility bothered her. A little. Thunder pealed and a flash of lightning lit up the night sky for an instant before returning to the wet dark. "You're really pissed off at me, aren't you," he said after a few more minutes of drumming. She rubbed the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger, attempting to ward off an incipient headache. "I'm not pissed off at you, Mulder," she half- lied. "I just want to get out of this hurricane." He looked over at her again and she could tell that he knew she wasn't being entirely truthful. As was their usual M.O., however, he decided to play along with her denial. "Good. I'd hate to be trapped in this car with an armed and dangerous woman who also happens to hate my guts," he said glibly. She didn't trust herself to respond to that one without turning it into a snide comment, so she kept silent. There was no sound except for the shattering of the rain around them, then -- "I really think something was going on at the Shipley house," Mulder said. "I would have liked to poke around some more, get into that bathroom." "Mulder..." She grasped for polite phrasing. "I really don't want to argue with you about that right now. I'm wet and tired and miserable and all I care about at the moment is getting out of this rain." He nodded. "So what do you want to talk about?" "We have to talk?" "We have to pass the time somehow." "We do?" "Yes." "Fine." "Well?" "Well what?" "What do you want to talk about?" She closed her eyes and counted to ten. "You pick the topic, Mulder, okay?" A pause as his brain worked. "Seen any good movies lately?" "No. Have you seen anything that wasn't X-rated lately?" "No." He took his seatbelt off and shifted in his seat so that he could face her. "Does that bother you?" "Why should it?" "It shouldn't." "It doesn't." "Good." The rain hammered on the roof and the wind wailed against the windows and the words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Why do you do it, Mulder?" He beetled his eyebrows. "Do what?" "Watch porn. I don't get it." She followed his suit and removed her own seatbelt, then wriggled around in the bucket seat until she was relatively comfortable. "What's the appeal?" He shrugged. "Would you believe me if I said that I watch it purely as a study of the psychology of human sexual behavior?" She met his gaze evenly. "No." "I don't know, Scully," he said, finger-combing his wet hair, a slight note of exasperation in his voice. "Safe sex, I guess. Safe from disease and from the fear of rejection. Not a bad deal, all told." "But Mulder...the impossibly large implants, the shaved pubic hair, the phony screaming...these are turn-ons?" She wasn't sure why she suddenly felt the need to understand after all this time, or to, god help her, compete. "Not all of it is, but most of it -- yeah," he said unrepentantly. "But you have to realize, it's --" He broke off and shook his head. "Never mind." "What?" she prodded. He looked down at his lap. "Mulder, tell me." He looked back up at her. "It's not enough," he said. "I don't understand," she said, although she thought she did. "You wouldn't." She opened her mouth to press him further, then realized they were poised on the brink of dangerous territory. "Guess not," she murmured. Mulder shook his head again. "Why are you such a bitch?" he asked quietly. She flinched as if he'd slapped her, but recovered as well as could be expected. "Why are you such a dick?" "Answering a question with a question. If I were a psychologist, I'd say you were exercising an avoidance tactic." She stared at him. "Mulder, you =are= a psychologist." "Only in theory, not practice." His eyes glimmered at her in the half-light. "Come on, Scully. You know you've been freezing me out these past few weeks." "And you want to be the one to defrost me?" "Another question with a question. Very interesting." She rapped her fingers against the side of the door, wishing for all the world that she could rush out into the hurricane and let it sweep her away in a gust of water and wind. With any luck they'd never find the body. "You haven't been a paragon of sensitivity lately yourself." "I know," he said, surprising her. "It's because I'm a dick." She couldn't help but let out an abbreviated laugh at that. "Do you have any idea how crazy you make me?" she asked, a slight trace of merriment still evident in her voice. "Is there any way I can answer that question without it being damning?" he countered. They looked at each other, then, "Avoidance," they said in unison. Scully smiled, wholeheartedly this time, and unzipped her jacket, as the heat from their breath and their bodies was beginning to make it stuffy inside the car. "It is stuffy in here, isn't it," he said, echoing her thoughts. He shrugged out of his own jacket and tossed it onto the back seat. "I would try to crack a window, but..." He gestured to the windshield, which looked for all the world like the surface of a skating rink, so smooth was the sheet of water that surrounded them. And yet the pounding symphony the water conducted on the roof of the car reminded them that the downpour was far from placid. "I've never liked the rain much," Mulder admitted. "Snow, yes. Snow was good for making snow men and having snowball fights and, most importantly, missing school. But rain always seemed too depressing for some reason." "I've always liked it," Scully said. "Something about washing everything away, starting anew...." She cast her eyes down, looked at her hands folded in her lap. "I don't like endings anymore," she said almost inaudibly. "I much prefer beginnings." The rain barraged the roof and the wind moaned against the windows and a touch caressed her hair. It took a moment before she realized that it was Mulder's hand. Without thinking she leaned into his touch, then pulled away just as quickly and jerked her head up. His hand didn't leave her hair. "Mulder, what are you doing?" "I have no idea," he answered with disarming honesty. And then he leaned in and kissed her. Jesus Mary and Joseph, was her last coherent thought before sensation washed over her. His lips were warm, slightly chapped, and dry, but it didn't matter. When his tongue flickered against her lips she opened her mouth to him reflexively and it was as if a final barrier had been shattered. His hold on her hair tightened and he drew her closer to his body, the heat between them flaring hotter than a Florida summer. Their tongues were dueling now, caressing and sliding against each other, dipping up or down to dart against lips and teeth. His breath was stale but the tang of it almost tasted good, it tasted earthy and male, and Scully realized it had been far too long since she'd kissed a man. The kiss went on for a long time as they got used to the feel of it, experimenting with their lips and tongues, tasting each other. It was awkward and natural all at the same time, and underneath the knowledge thudded in her brain that this was Mulder she was kissing, Mulder's lips against hers, Mulder's tongue questing inside her mouth. And all she could think was that it was about damn time. When they finally pulled apart he kept his mouth close to hers. "Should we stop and talk about this?" he asked, his fingers traveling over her hair in feathery, random patterns. "God no," she whispered, not wanting to break the spell now that they were finally here, and he responded by moving his mouth to her neck, drawing the sensitive skin between his teeth and nibbling lightly. She leaned her head back and sighed in encouragement when one of his hands traveled under her jacket and brushed against her breast. Without moving her neck away from his searching mouth she wriggled out of the outer garment, leaving it bunched around her lower back. He slipped his hand under her shirt and fondled her breast again, this time using his thumb to push the cup of her bra aside so that he could gently rub her hardened nipple with the pad of his thumb. Her body's reaction was immediate; her breathing quickened and a delicious throbbing started up between her legs. "Maybe we should move this to the back seat," he mumbled against her ear, kissing the lobe. A nod was as coherent a response as she could manage, and they took turns clambering into the back, falling against each other as they landed in the back seat, laughing a little at the absurdity of it all. "This brings back memories," she said wickedly, and then speech abandoned her again as he kissed her hard. He tugged at the hem of her shirt and she helped him pull it off of her, then discarded his own pullover. His chest was hot and firm beneath her fingertips, smooth with a dusting of soft hair, pliant and unyielding all at once. He eased her back on the seat and covered her body with his, scrunching up his legs since they had nowhere else to go. Tall men were not meant to sleep or make love in two-door automobiles. He rained kisses on her face in time with the rain thumping on the roof, quickly and firmly and persistent. He smelled of sweat and rainwater and mud and cologne and it was enough to make her lightheaded. Or maybe that was from the increasing stuffiness of the car as they steamed up the windows. With surprisingly delicate fingers he unhooked her bra and slid it down her arms. His breath tickled her nipples before his mouth closed over one, tongue darting out to circle it with smooth, gentle motions. She arched her back beneath him and smoothed his hair, resting her hand on the back of his neck as his head moved up and down above her bare chest. "God, Mulder..." At her words he reached up to cover her free breast with his hand, rolling the nipple between thumb and forefinger, pinching it hard as she gasped in pleasure. She leaned her head back against the car door, mindless of the way the handle was jabbing into her shoulder blades, and closed her eyes. The rain splashed and crashed, the thunder rumbled and lightning illuminated the car in staccato flashes of brilliance that danced against her closed eyelids, all while Mulder's tongue and teeth worked at her breast, his breathing heavy, his mouth making wet suckling sounds. She was sweating already in the close quarters of the car, her back slick with it, the nape of her neck damp. She stretched one arm up over her head and placed her hand against the cool glass of the car window, feeling the pressure of the rain patter beneath her fingertips. He raised his head to look at her, but she could barely make out his features in the dimness. "Are you sure about this?" he asked as his fingers stole to the waistband of her pants. She lowered her hand from the glass and touched his cheek, which was startlingly hot against her cooled-off skin. "No," she said honestly. "But that doesn't mean I want you to stop." He let out a short, low laugh of agreement before he undid the button on her slacks and helped her to shimmy out of them. He had to sit up and face forward in order to maneuver out of his own jeans and boxers, however. He was fairly graceful under the circumstances, but even so Scully had to suppress a snicker at the sight of his limbs flailing as he tried to coordinate his tall, lean mass in the confines of the car. "Are you laughing at me?" he asked at one point, with his jeans around his ankles. "Wouldn't dream of it." Finally, he hovered above her once more, the heat from their bodies mixing between them and wrapping them in a cocoon of warmth. She wrapped her legs around his waist and with short, slow movements he pushed himself into her until they both sighed in contentment. They stayed motionless like that for a moment, again, as they had with the kissing earlier, simply becoming accustomed to the feel of each other in this new, inevitable way. Then he slowly began thrusting in and out of her, moaning softly as he did so. It was not the stuff that dreams are made of. The car door handle dug deeper into Scully's back with each thrust of Mulder's hips, the air was soon stale and stuffy and almost smothering, she had no room to participate as energetically as she would have liked, and her leg muscles were starting to cramp. But he was hard and hot inside of her, and he whispered her name in a way that made her heart turn over, and the touch of his skin inflamed her with every move that he made. And all the while she heard and felt the rain, the rain banging and crashing around them, washing everything clean, destroying and creating in the world outside. Nimble fingers found her clitoris, and she gasped Mulder's name as the long-forgotten sensations built up inside of her, swirling deep in her abdomen, feathering up her chest. "Oh, god, Mulder, yes, just like that..." she entreated, moving her hips in time with him as much as space would allow. He growled deep in his throat and speeded up his thrusts, banging her against the door, driving harder and harder into her until at last she came with a flash of lightning, pure and electrifying, setting the world ablaze. He kept going strong even after she had subsided, faster and faster, grunting with the effort, his breath harsh and warm against her skin, and just when she thought she might actually come again he gushed into her, fiery and thick and wet. His fingers dug into the flesh of her sides as he surrendered all control, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth hanging open in ecstasy. Their voices were gossamer whispers in the darkness. "Scully..." "Mulder..." "So good." "I know." As they remained entwined together in the back seat, sweaty and satiated, hands and lips continuing to explore the sweet new territory of each other's bodies, the rain lessened its fury, transforming from a fierce hurricane into a gentle shower, pitter-pattering above them, perfectly sculpted droplets glistening with the return of moonlight. end.