From: Rebecca Date: Sun, 18 Apr 1999 10:25:31 -0700 (PDT) Subject: "Pillow Talk" Hey Kids-- Okay, you asked for it and here it is: a fanfic based on the bedroom scene in "Rain King" (or *lack* thereof should I say?:)),you got it!:) Like a bunch of you out there, I thought they (Surfer Boy and his gang) could've taken a *lot* more liberties with this scene. But then again, that's what fanfic is for, right?:):):) Title: "Pillow Talk" Author: Rebecca Spoilers: "Rain King" "Home" "Bad Blood"--a slu of them Rating: PG-13 (nothing sexy here--okay *some* sexy stuff but not *dirty* sexy--maybe next time:) Summary: A continuation of the "bedroom" scene in "Rain King". Where *did* Mulder sleep that night? I didn't see a *cot* anywhere!:) Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully--our beloved priest and priestess of pop culture, do not belong to me, nor anybody associated with me, though when I write fanfic, I like to pretend they do:):):) They belong to Chris Carter, Ten- Thirteen Prod. and the Fox Network, or some "genderbender" of the three, and are being used without permission (I lost your number in my rolodex Chris--please don't sue me! How good would it look suing a fifteen year old girl anyway?? Besides, all you'd get is about 50 electric blue bras and a pair of thigh-high boots.) Okay, 'nuff talkin'--on with the show!!:):):) *********************************************************** Cool View Motor Court August 14, 1998 10:30 P.M. Scully released a sigh of relief as she pulled into a parking space. It was all set. The next plane leaving Kroner, Kansas was tomorrow at 10 AM and she and Mulder would be on it. Thank God. Not that this place was any worse than some of the cases they'd been assigned to--or signed up for in this case. No, they *technically* signed up for this case, they couldn't since Spender'd been officially assigned to the X-Files. Why exactly *were* they here? Oh the hell with it, she didn't care. It was still a damn sight better than Home, Pennsylvania. 'Great. Had to think about the Peacock Brothers, you're going to have some lovely dreams tonight, Dana.' Dana?! He never even *knew* your first name! Oh that was an even better one! Though not as gruesome as inbreeding, a threatened lawsuit that she was *technically* responsible for was enough to tie her poor stomach into fishermen's knots. Not to mention vampires with fake fangs. And buck teeth. Or not. A downright humorous experience now that she looked back on it. She felt a chuckle rise in the back of her throat. Still, she didn't want to look back on it tonight. All she wanted to do was just go to her room, get changed, turn off the lights and hide under the covers until morning. Maybe if she was lucky, Mulder'd let her sleep a little late. Maybe if she was lucky, she'd be able to sleep. OH, that's right. Mulder was sleeping with her tonight. Oh GOD! A mental slap for that one! Sleeping in her *room* tonight, due to sudden rash of UFBs--Unidentified Flying Bovine. The incident that had cost her a good night's sleep, not that it had been a screaming success in the first place, much of it spent tossing and turning. Oh well, hopefully he'd be civil enough not to make too much of a joke out of this. Oh, she could handle his sense of humor.. 'I just don't *want* to tonight,' she thought to herself as she crossed the parking lot. She was tired and sore, and all she wanted to do right now was flop down on her bed and slip away into a post-primetime television induced coma. The words "Forget That" jumped out in sharp focus as she caught a glimpse of her partner in the picture window, stretched out across the bed reading a paper. 'If he wants to keep breathing, he'd better get off that bed.' 'Although he does look pretty yummy in that position,' another voice inside her head spoke up. Scully half exhaled, half chuckled. Fortunetly she'd learned to ignore *that* voice a long time ago. She'd had to. She saw her partner in 'yummy' positions everyday, what would happen if she "broke protocol" even once? 'So what? It's not like half the Bureau doesn't think you already have,'that voice piped up again. She fished around in her pockets for the keys, finally retrieving them and fitting them into the lock. Mulder glanced up from the paper as she opened the door. "Next flight out is at 10:00 tomorrow morning." she shut the door behind her. "Look at this, Scully," he folded the paper back and held it out in front of him so that a portion of the bi-line was still visible: Flower Showers? What?, "September 19th 1991. It rained *rose petals* for nearly an hour." Oh, please no, not tonight. I'm tired, Mulder. "Mulder we're going home. The rain stopped, Daryl Mootz is being sued by about 50 people," she moved to curl up in the chair by the bed as she spoke, "and--and you told Sheila yourself that she wasn't controlling the weather." "She's not. Neither is Daryl. Check this out, on the same day that it rained rose petals," he sat up a little straighter and unfolded the paper and refolded again to read from another portion it, " 'Irene Hardt, Beloved Wife and Devoted Mother passed away yesterday afternoon." He held it out for her to read the tiny obit, then refolded it once again to continue where it cut off at the bottom of the page and continued up onto the next one, humming a little as he did so. "Mmm-mmm-mmm, 'She's survived by one son, *Holman* Hardt'," he gave her a meaningful glance as he set the paper down on the bed. "Oh, so now you're saying that Holman Hardt...." "Holman Hardt has been manufacturing the weather. Did you see how relieved he was when he found out Daryl was drunk? Mulder, please.... "I've been doing some checking," he got up to retrieve a file from the nearby vanity--oh God, he didn't look in the top drawer, did he? 'Dana, he's seen you in your underwear before, Hell the man has seen you naked..' 'Don't remind me,' a slightly more embarrased voice popped up, 'Thank God, she couldn't remember it.' 'Much.' The voices in her head abruptly ceased as he turned back around. "Holman Hardt has been hospitalised five times with nervous exhaustion. Each one coinciding with a major meteorlogical event," he sat down on the foot of the bed, right in front of her. "Mulder, it is still a huge leap to say that he's manufacturing the weather." "Most people will admit that the weather plays a significant role in the way they feel, right. There's even that disorder...mmm," his forehead creased as he searched for the proper term. "SAD." "Mmm-Hmm," he nodded as she touched on it. "Seasonal Affective Disorder." "Yeah. Well, who's to say that it doesn't work the other way around? That the way a person feels can affect the weather? That the weather is somehow an expression of Holman Hardt's feelings, or-or-or better yet the feelings that he's not expressing." 'If this talk goes any further, my eyes are going to meet on the top of my head.' "Mulder, Ten o' clock tomorrow morning." Scully punctuated the sentence by pulling herself out of the small chair and heading for the bathroom, grabbing her overnight bag on the way, "until then, I just want to get some of the rest I lost the other night." She pulled open the bathroom door, and glanced back at him one last time. "No thanks to you I might add." "Hey, it's not my fault a flying cow fell through my roof." Whatever else he had to say was cut off as Scully shut the light wood door behind her. 'Flying Cow,' she thought as she pulled off her jacket and started unbuttoning her blouse, 'it could only happen to us.' She chuckled lightly as each article of clothing came off until she stood clad only in her white cotton panties. 'Amazing. Six years later, and I'm *still* buying the same kind of underwear.' She rooted through her bag until she came upon a pair of form-fitting white shorts and an oversized T-shirt. She pulled both of them on and grabbed the doorknob. 'At laaaaaassssssssst. Sleep.' That last feeble hope was dashed however, when she opened the door, and encountered Mulder back in his former position: lying across the bed with his back against the headboard. "That was fast," he glanced up as she shut the door behind her. "Mulder, what are you doing? I told you I was going to bed." "Okay," he patted the patch of mattress next to him and smiled a little mischieveously. "I meant...," she took in a breath,"...by myself." "You know, one is the loneliest number." "Mulder, please. I am really tired and I have to get up early to catch the plane." "Early? The plane doesn't leave until 10." "Yeah, and I haven't slept in 36 hours. Which means if I don't go to sleep now, I'm going to have to drag my ass out of bed. So if you please..." "Where'm I going to sleep?" "Sleep in the chair," she gestured towards where she'd been sitting just minutes before. "I can't sleep in that thing Scully, it's barely big enough for you." "What's that supposed to mean?" "Nothing." "That's what I thought." "Good." "Sure." "Fine." "Whatever." The extraneousness of the conversation got Scully chuckling, eliciting curiosity from Mulder (not to mention a huge grin). "What?" "Nothing..," she swallowed the rest of her laughter but left the smile that accompanied it in place, "just this entire conversation and...how it's not really going anywhere." Mulder laughed a little, then sat up. "I'm sorry Scully," he scooted forward on the bed, "I didn't mean to give you trouble, I'll just sleep on the floor tonight." "Are you sure?" Scully's expression changed to one of concern as he slid off the bed. "Yeah," he stood up, wincing slightly and moving his hands to a pain in his back, "Jesus, I must be getting old, if it hurts just getting out of bed." "Well all those years of sleeping on sofa haven't done you any favors either," she crossed to the bed behind him anf folded back the covers. "Yeah, well, it never used to hurt this much getting *into* bed," her eyes widened as his voice dripped wiht inuendo, "course it's been awhile..." "I guess it has, come here," she motioned for him to step back a little as she turned around. He followed her orders and found himself walk into her small hands as they met his shoulders and began massaging their way down. Mulder closed his eyes as she began untying the fierce knots in the muscles of his back, one by one, using infinite care to work around the fastly developing bruise in his shoulder from when he fell to the floor to avoid the flying cow. A strangled moan escaped him and he arched his back into her competent hands, his lips parting on a sigh as he did so. Slowly, she kneaded the muscles in the small of his back--a sensitive part if his anatomy, the most sensitive area of his body according to his astrological sign--the Libra. He'd read that in an X-File somewhere. The only part of his body more sensitive than his lower back was his ass, it'd said. Both these areas could be easily stimulated and required care and protection. 'My God,' he thought to himself, 'like what me and Scully do. Whenever we go somewhere, I place my hand at the small of her back. And she protects my ass whenever I need her to... Wow. How'd I get so lucky? Oh...Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh God...' "Does that feel good?" her voice breezed through his musings, slowly melting together with the senastion of her tapered fingers against his soft skin. "Yeah," he croaked on that word as her fingers stroked his sides soothingly, almost affectionately, he inwardly giggled as her fingers passed a ticklish spot but soon resumed along his spine, "Oh God, Scully...those hands..." He heard her laugh lightly behind him. "That's what Spender said." "WHAT?!" He turned around to look at her as she flopped down on the foot of the bed laughing. "I was *JOKING*. I wanted to make sure you were awake." "Oh, Jesus, don't even *joke* about that, Scully," he marched off towards the linen closet next to the door and swung it open. "I'm sorry, I thought you'd laugh," her laughter lightened to chuckling. "No, that was not even funny, that was just plain *scary*, I'm going to have some *GREAT* dreams tonight Scully, thanks a lot." He retrieved a blue, frayed-looking blanket that looked like it had more bodily fluids exchanged on it than Bill Clinton's desk chair and threw it down on the floor next to Scully's bed. "You're welcome," her smile faded as she slipped under the covers and reached over to switch off the lamp. As she laid her head down on the pillow, she looked down at her partner as he sat down on the floor and covered himself with the disgusting excuse for a blanket, preparing to lie down parallel to the position she was lying in up on the bed. "I'm going to step all over you in the morning, you're aware of that right?" she asked as he layed his head against the pillow he'd borrowed from the bed. In light of how groggy and disoriented she was when she first woke up, and in light of her usual first waking instinct to stumble into the bathroom in the morning, she thought he should be forewarned he'd probably get a nasty wake up call at about 7:30, if he *did* fall asleep. "That's okay. Probably won't be any worse than you usually do," he closed his eyes and instantly felt a pillow harshly collide with his face as the last few words left his mouth. Mulder's eyes shot open, as a sudden glint filled them. "Oh...Scully..." he tried not to make a sound as he rose up on his knees next to the bed, pillow clenched in both his hands, "you're gonna get it for that." "Wh--?" Scully's sleepy response was soon replaced by a wide awake yelp as the pillow came down on her face. Her own hands reached for the pillow beneath her head and the assault was on. Scully giggled and fought to rise up on her knees on the bed as Mulder's pillow struck her shoulders. All too soon she gained momentum and struck back. His head got the full impact of her excellent aim and swam momentarily as he designated the next spot to strike. He chose her hips. She chose his arms. Her thighs. His chest. This went on and on for what seemed like hours as they indulged in a game neither of them had probably played since they were about ten. And neither one of them could stop laughing as the game continued... One last blow to Mulder's arms sent the pillow flying from his hands and onto the floor. As he bent to retrieve it, a mischieveous thought came to Scully's mind and she leaped on his back, dropping her pillow so she could tickle his sides. "Oh! Jesus! Scully!!!" Mulder yelped in between giggles as her small, but competent hands skipped up and down his sides and the front of his abdomen. 'How the *hell* did she--' his thoughts were cut off as her fingertips grazed another spot on his chest. His laughter erupted. "Scully...Get off of me..." he squired and writhed under her touch as he tried to throw her off his back. 'How does a well built man of six feet get taken down by a woman of 5'2"? This violates the laws of physics,' another giggle interupted his musings, 'and fairness.' "Scully....Get off..." He could hear and feel her own laughter coming in short breaths against the nape of his neck. "Uh-uh, this is way too much fun." he could hear the laughter in her voice and writhed even more desperately. Finally, he lost his balance and fell backwards against the bed, Scully underneath him. Pressed between the weakness of the mattress and her partners 170 pounds. He'd worried she might be hurt, until he heard the already familiar laughter still tantalizing the back of his neck. In one swift movement he flipped himself over to poise himself above her on the bed. Mild shock registered in her eyes as he gazed--yes,*gazed*--at her face with a look she thought she'd seen befo-- "Ahh! Mulder!!" her wonder was replaced with hysterical giggling going about ten times the tempo it had been when she was the one tickling him. Now as his long lean fingers danced along her sides, it was completely different. "One good turn deserves another, don't you think Scully?" he smiled down into her desperate face as his ministrations were starting to make the muscles in her face sore with the force of her laughter. "Mulder!..Please!..." Oh God, she was in Hell. Or maybe Heaven. Her mind wasn't coherent enough to decide which as Mulder's marvelously talented hands waltzed across her stomach and her hips. "Mulder!...Muld--!" "Okay, okay, I'll stop," his smile stayed on his face as his hands quieted, taking pity on her. Scully smiled up at him too as she panted, trying to catch the breath she'd just lost in their...what exactly could she call what they'd just done? She stared up into his dark eyes, smoky with laughter, his forehead was faintly traced with sweat, as she was certain hers was, his recently cut hair was ruffled and out of place, and the smile that graced his face was a wonderful sight to see, since it had been a long time since she'd seen Mulder genuinely smile... His eyes remained on her face, almost lost in fascination. He'd never seen Scully like this. Her hair thrown back from her face fanlike against the now rumpled bedcover, the dark blush across her face from laughing so hard, and her heavy breathing...ohhhhh Jeeesus, the girls in his videos didn't sound like that... Scully felt light puffs of breathing that matched her own lightly caress her face, making her lightheaded as she finally noticed the position of his hands and just *where* they had settled: His right hand had moved north and was tenderly stroking her neck and the part of her collarbone exposed by the oversized neck of her nightshirt, while his left had almost surreptitiously slipped underneath her nightshirt and was resting against her stomach. As their breathing slowly returned to normal, Mulder's eyes ran the length of her body and he suddenly realized the location of his hands and pulled back quickly. "Sorry," he softly whispered against her hair, reminiscent of that scene they'd *almost* played out in his hallway not months before., as he flipped over to lie beside her on the bed. The air between them remained silent for a few moments, but thoroughly charged with a certain energy neither one could really pinpoint. Then Scully began to laugh. Mulder heard her light giggle even before she did and looked over at her. "What so funny?" he stared at her profile in the dim light being cast through the picture window. "If that lady could see us now," she mumbled almost to herself. "What lady?" "The manager of the motel. She approached me this morning when I came to the scene of the "accident"." "What did she say?" Mulder felt his eyes close mometarily. "She said 'Miss, we moved your boyfriend's things into your room.'" His eyes snapped open and he looked over at her. "Your kidding!" the beginnings of his trademark grin began to spread across his features. "Nope," she shook her head. "What did you say?" a slight chuckle was in his voice. "I told her you were my partner and we preferred seperate rooms." Scully continued to look up at the ceiling as she spoke. "What she say to that?" "She said 'Oh. Old fashioned are you?'" Mulder's dry laugh filled the room slightly as Scully turned her head to look over at him. All laughed out, she managed a small smile as he turned his head to look over at her. "Yeah Mulder, we might as well be married with all the crap we get, not to mention the equally shattered condition of our social lives." "Well I asked you to marry me once Scully, you didn't give me an answer." The smile grew a little irritated and she nodded slightly closing her eyes. "And as for our social lives, I don't know about yours, but I'd say mine's still standing." "Mulder, your social life consists of a magazine subscription and a collection of video tapes." "I swear to God, they're not *mine*!" She tossed him a weaker version of "the look." She was too tired to arouse anything stronger. "Anyway, I don't have time to watch those anymore. When I'm not doing grunt work at the Bureau, I'm always with you." The gaze that accompanied that statement sent a small shiver down her spine. She fought to move to firmer ground. "Or you're at the Lone Gunmen's." "Or I'm at the Lone Gunmen's. You know Frohike said to tell you he loves the picture of you." "What picture?" "The one on my web page." She looked over at him. "You have a picture of me on your web page?" "Mmm-hmm," he nodded and shifted against the bed. "I didn't even know you had a web page." "Well, yeah, you know, it's ...just something I work on when I can't sleep." "Hmmmm," the path of her eyes returned to the ceiling, "....maybe that's something I could try..." He stared over at her, a rush of concern swept across his features. "Scully? Is something wrong?" She swallowed hard and kept her gaze focused on the ceiling. He moved closer to her on the bed. "Scully, if there is, you can talk to me, you know that," she could feel their physical proximity as his gentle whisper caressed her face and neck. She finally gathered enough strength to look over at him, his face was practically laying against her hair on the bedspread. And his eyes were filled with care and slight distress. Her mouth opened but for a moment no sound emanated from her. Finally... "Mulder, I haven't been able to sleep....not in a while," her voice remained steady, but her eyes must have betrayed how she felt as his expression morphed in reaction. Mulder's eyes softened and he reached for her. "Come here, Scully..." he whispered gently into her hair as his arms gently closed around her. A soft sigh escaped her mouth as the familiarity of his touch sent a subtle wave of warmth pooling through her body.