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Read Dreambook
Sign Dreambook
by Rachel
Rated PG-13
His voice faded into meaningless background noise and she realized she was drifting off, felt her head slide downward to meet the reassuring weight of his shoulder. A small voice in the back of her head tried to convince her that Mulder's shoulder was not the most appropriate of pillows, that she should down some caffiene and head home before she did something embarrassing, but Scully was in no mood for rational thought, not after the day she'd had, and so she made a point of ignoring the voice. The tea she'd just finished seemed to fill her with a fuzzy warmth as she let herself drift closer to the oblivion that another part of her brain identified as sleep.
Distantly, from very deep within the soothing blackness, she felt a shifting beneath her head, a redistribution of weight, but subtle enough that she need not move to compensate. A sense that something hovered just beyond her closed eyelids, cast a shadow. A sudden presence over her, a layer of solidity that wrapped her body in a gradual warmth. It's coarseness scratched against her chin, and she identified it through the fog of half sleep as a blanket. But the shadow did not leave her. Instead, there was a light brush of something across her forehead. Fingertips, she realized as they tucked a strand of hair back into place. Mulder's fingers, an even more distant voice noted softly. She grasped gently the last strands of consciousness that connected her so tenuously to the world around her for a moment more, curious, oddly expectant, though of what, she could not say, was not sure she could have said even had she been fully awake.
And then it came. Again, on her forehead as his lips followed the path his fingers had traced, a touch feather light, one that set off fireworks beneath her closed eyelids, and at once awakened and relaxed her. Before she'd even processed the sensations, Scully felt her head angle upward. She did not resist her instinct, allowed her lips to seek his even before she'd woken up enough to reopen her eyes. Not that she wanted to. Not when her lips had brushed his, had set new sparks to dancing on her tongue, in her chest.
Their eyes met as they drew back, and Mulder's were wide, surprised. Then they sparkled as they smiled down at her. He reached up with hesitant fingers to toy with another strand of her hair that had separated from the rest. She smiled back as she watched him caress it, wondered what was going on behind his enigmatic grin, whether there wasn't something else he'd rather be caressing. The thought frightened her, if only a little, stirred something within her that she was not yet ready to face; she'd had more than enough epiphanies for the day and she did not need another, so she drew back from him, ever so slightly.
The movement was enough to dislodge the blanket, and it slid to the floor with a muted thump. She glanced at it, then back at Mulder, and shivered in the sudden chill that was left in its wake. She took the chill as a sign that she was in desperate need of sleep, and lots of it. His eyes studied her intently, as if seeking some sign. Having apparently found none, he leaned back against the couch and said casually, "You know, there's a long tradition of legends..." she almost groaned at the prospect of another one of his innocently offered theories, but she did not interrupt him. "about a virtuous maiden asleep for all eternity, and in nearly every instance only one remedy is powerful enough to wake her." He paused, pratically begging her to fill in the blank, but she just waited, intrigued, for him to finish his own thought. "The kiss," he finally finished, "from her one true love." He grinned, and laid a hand on top of hers.
She allowed herself a chuckle as her mind assimmilated his intent. She pulled her legs up onto the couch as she tried to find an answer that wouldn't bring her more of the same. "Well, Prince Charming," she answered with what she hoped was just the right mix of mollification and incredulity. "I don't think you've found your maiden." She worried for a moment that he would misinterpret it, that he would think she meant something she hadn't. Except that she wasn't sure herself what, if anything, she'd meant to say.
"Maiden or not," he answered as he gave her hand a quick squeeze, "You're princess enough for me."
Scully shook her head. She was now fully awake, but her mind was in no shape to cope with endless metaphors and subtle inuendo. "And this princess needs more sleep," she announced firmly as she replanted her feet on the floor and smoothed her skirt with her free hand. As she rose from the couch, she realized her other hand was still trapped in his, and, in her exhausted state, she could not find enough stength to pull away when he did not free it.
"Where are you going?" he asked as she faced him. She heard a deep concern behind his words, and it at once soothed and unsettled her.
"Home," she declared before she could change her mind. "Bed." She made a weak attempt to free her hand, but he refused to let it go. Suddenly, his grip felt more confining than caressing. "I need to go, Mulder." But he didn't listen.
He shook his head and pushed himself up off the couch. "Not in that condition. You'd be a hazzard to everyone on the road, not to mention yourself. Look, I've slept out here too many times to count." He waved his other arm in the general direction of the couch. "Why don't you borrow my bed?"
"No, that's okay," she answered almost without thinking? Sleep in his bed? That would just be too weird. No, she definitely needed to go home to her own bed and crawl into it before she fell over. "I'll be fine," she insisted, but even she could hear the lack of conviction in her voice. "A cup of coffee..." But it was a lost cause.
"Scully, you're falling asleep on your feet. Please stay here?" His face wore that puppydog expression, the innocent, sincere one that she found so hard to resist, even at her best, and now she was far from her best. With a nod, she allowed him to guide her into the bedroom his arm a gentle presence on her shoulder. She more fell than sat down on the edge of the bed. Only his arm against her back kept her from falling down entirely, or at least, that was how she felt.
Uncertain of what to do next, she leaned back just a bit, and he allowed her to fall against him. She didn't resist. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, however. She wasn't sure what would happen if she met his eye, and that frightened her even as she felt a brief rush of exhiliration. Her fingers found an invisible speck of lint on her skirt, and she picked at it.
Once again, his hand found hers, pried it gently from the dark fabric. He toyed with her unresisting fingers for a moment before he announced, "you should change into something more comfortable. She marvelled at her disappointment as he released her hand. "You left your bag here," he called over his shoulder as he stuck his head into the closet. Somehow, she managed to stay upright. "When you came back from that expidition with the smoking man." Oh, right. That. She didn't really want to think about it, wasn't even certain of what he was trying to tell her.
Then he came back with an all too familiar pair of pajamas. She stared at them for a moment, wondered how they could possibly be here if the exact same pair was in her apartment... Of course, she realized, having thought she'd lost these, she'd bought herself another pair. Why hadn't he told her they were here? It was just like him to not think to let her know...
He handed her the pajamas, then watched her for a moment, expectant. "What?" she finally asked.
"Aren't you going to change?" he answered gently.
"Oh, right," she said. It came out more like a garbled mumble. She shrugged out of her jacket, which he immediately placed aside for her, then moved to take off her shirt, pulled it halfway up before realizing she couldn't find the energy to move any further. Then his hands were on hers with that same electric touch, and he helped her pull it over her head, moved behind her to unfasten her bra before he slipped the pajama shirt onto her torso. As she removed her bra and fumbled for the sleeves, Scully wondered why his undressing her didn't bother her. She made no move to stop him as he unzipped her skirt for her. She rose from the bed just enough to allow it to slip to the floor, then wondered whether she felt comfortable allowing him to dress her bottom half as well.
To her surprise, however, he paused, suddenly self conscious. "Do you want these on also?" he asked her as he stifled a yawn. He held up the pants, and she shook her head. His bedroom was warm, and besides, it wasn't worth the effort. "Do you need anything else, then?" he asked her. It was so unusual for him to ask questions like that, and she wanted to take full advantage of the moment, but no, there was nothing.
As he pulled the covers back for her, Scully noted with surprise that the bed was actually made, which made her feel a bit better about crawling into it. Maybe she should have taken the couch. It was his bed, after all. But it was too late to argue now, and she wasn't sure she could make it to the couch without falling over, so she crawled to where he'd pulled the covers back, and allowed him to tuck her in. "You're sure you don't need anything?" he asked as she began to close her eyes. She didn't respond, and she caught his shrug from beneath half closed lids. Then she noticed nothing.
Except for a soft rustling of fabric, a drawer slamming shut. She realized that Mulder was changing for bed. But so early? She cracked open one eye and realized that the room was much darker than it had been. She wondered how long she'd been asleep, but decided not to bother checking the clock. She had just closed her eye again when she felt the bed shift beneath her with a squeak of springs. A shadow hovered over her for a moment, and when she reopen ed her eyes, she saw his hand silhouetted against the dimness, a hairsbreadth from her cheek. It hovered there for a moment, indecisive, but did not make contact. She turned her head as it retreated, followed the arm to its source, and met Mulder's eyes somewhere in the shadows.
He smiled. "Go back to sleep," he whispered, but she didn't feel like doing so just yet. Something held her back. Maybe it was the fleck of toothpaste on his cheek, which she reached up to brush away. When he started at her touch, she explained, "toothpaste." for a moment, he seemed disappointed, but he hastened to cover it up with half a smile. Still, she'd noticed, the same way she noticed the slump of his shoulders when he turned to leave the room after she bade him a good night. "You too," he whispered to the doorway.
He got far enough away that she caught a glimpse of his boxers, patterned with cartoon aliens and flying saucers. Apparently, for him, that was what passed as pajamas. Somehow, the green grinning faces, so contrary to all they'd discovered about what seemed to be genuine extraterrestrials, brought a smile to Scully's face. He looked so pathetic, sulking in the doorway. "Wait," she called to him.
He turned, and even in the half-light, she saw his eyes glitter. Why had she called him? "Come over here," she told him as she pushed herself up in the bed. The words bought her a few moments to think as he returned, but she still couldn't fathom why she'd said it. Maybe it was because it was his bedroom, his lair, and she, as his partner, had no right to intrude upon it. Finally, she patted the empty bed beside her, and he sat down, confused, and leaned back against the headboard.
"What?" he finally asked as he settled in.
Scully shrugged, and, having run out of stalling tactics, finally chose honesty. "I don't know," she admitted. "I guess I just didn't want you to leave."
To this, he had no answer, so he simply sat there, apparently waiting for her to make the next move. She shifted closer to him on the bed, felt her pajamas catch on the hair of his bare chest. She realized she'd never been so close to him, not when he wasn't fully dressed, anyway. His body felt warm and reassuring in the darkness, and she leaned into him until he put an arm around her.
Ever so slowly, it moved up her back, left a trail of gooseflesh in its wake that only glued her more firmly to his chest until his arms enveloped her completely. As his fingers played along her thinly clad back, hers found his, began to explore it, and his chest, and his cheek. She fought down a girlish giggle as butterflies danced in her abdomen. Such interaction was new to them. They'd kissed, certainly, and more than once; they'd embraced many times, but this... it was different.
Except that there was no room in her mind to absorb the differences as it filled to bursting with his essence. Even the smell of his sweat seemed to fill her lungs like a thick perfume, and the sparks followed his fingers across her upper body until they found the bottom of her shirt, crept beneath it, pulled away the instant flesh met flesh, as she instinctively drew back, then changed her mind. The action was enough to throw her off balance, and she slipped; he fell on top of her, and she felt a moment's panic before he shifted his weight so that they lay side by side, the blankets tangled between them.
Her heart raced as she tried to catch her breath, realized that somewhere along the way, she'd forgotten she needed to breathe. Arms intertwined around eachother, their mouths began to find what their hands could not reach until her mind caught up with her body and she realized where she was. Should she really be here? doing this? Now? The questions caused her to freeze in mid-kiss, just as Mulder's fingers found the waistband of her underwear. He pulled back at once, a question in his eyes, a concern. But too many emotions struggled for dominance within her, and her eyes could offer his no answer.
They remained like that for a moment, each waiting for the other's consent to make the first move. Finally, Mulder shook his head, as if in answer to some question she could not hear, and his hand fell away from her as he rolled out from beneath her arm, onto his back.
She felt the rise and fall of his chest beneath her arm, drew pleasure from the sensation until she pulled it back, shifted her weight so that he could pull his arm out from beneath her before it fell asleep. They lay there, side by side, just barely touching, for some time before Scully realized his breathing had become deep and even, and that he had fallen asleep. She somehow managed to tuck the blanket around him before drifting back to sleep herself, as she tried to convince herself they'd made the right decision.
When she next opened her eyes, his back was to her. She leaned against it for a minute, enjoyed the vibrations of his breath against her, then thought to wonder how he would feel in the morning. He hadn't meant to fall asleep there, had he? How would he react to her presence in the morning. The same way he had... how many minutes or hours ago had it been. She didn't even know what time he'd woken her, didn't know what time it was now, but a sense of urgency filled her. What they'd done, well, it was okay... it had felt right, somehow, but to do it all over again? She wasn't sure whether that was what she wanted, whether that was what he would want. Whether either of them would be able to face eachother in the telling light of the morning.
She didn't glance at the clock until she'd already pulled her clothing back on and gathered her belongings. As she reached for her jacket, tossed onto a chair beside the bed, she glanced down at him for a moment, considered waking him to let him know she was leaving. But it was two in the morning, and he needed his rest. She decided to let him sleep, and resolved to call him in the morning. At least she could honestly say there was no danger of her drifting off during her drive hime. She had far too much to consider. And besides, just looking at him set her heart to racing. She fled the room before his sleeping body could goad her into something she was not yet ready to handle.
--
finis
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