Title: Guise (1/1)
Author: RM>lebontrager@iname.com<

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is
intended. The lyric quoted at the beginning of the story is "Scar
Tissue," by Red Hot Chilli Peppers. Excellent CD, go pick one up.

======
Guise
======

"With the birds I'll share this lonely view. . ."

======

There was ringing. Not close by, but certainly annoying and aggravating
enough to stir her consciousness.

Let the machine get it. It wasn't a trilling, so it wasn't her cell
phone. She was already thinking too much.

Ignore it. Sleep.

It was almost like church bells, if she drifted far enough away, like
church bells tolling another village death, and. . .

Death. It was Saturday, come on. No. Let it ring. Do NOT get up.
Machine. Answering machine. Why the hell wasn't the machine picking up?
This was getting very old, very irritating now, like ants crawling up
her legs. . .

"Ah!"

Scully jumped from bed, fumbling in the bright sunshine invading her
room. The phone continued its merciless tirade and she hobbled to the
living room, sleep still dancing on the edges of her vision.

"Hello?"

"Scully. . .did I wake you up?"

She squinted at the clock and was apalled to find it was 12:16. In the
afternoon. "Kind of."

"Kind of? Are you feeling all right?"

"Ha ha. I'm fine. It's Saturday, Mulder. Don't you sleep in?"

"Not a whole lot."

There was silence while she scrambled to hold up her end of the
conversation, but the proper words eluded her.

"Why'd you call, Mulder?"

He sighed. "I was going to see if you wanted to go eat some lunch. But
if you-"

"No. I'm awake now. Hungry too. But give me an hour, all right? It'll
have to be tea."

"Tea?" he said, amusment lacing his voice.

"Ah. . .dinner. Whatever. My family was stationed in England for awhile,
and certain habits are hard to kill."

"I seem to recall a splendid British accent that nearly gave me a heart
attack. . ."

"Well, Phoebe's was easy. She almost sounds fake, Mulder."

He laughed and she could just about see his head shaking back and forth.

"Okay, so I'll come get you in about an hour."

"All right."

"Good."

She should have realized not to expect a good-bye. The phone buzzed
loudly in her ear and she replaced the receiver carefully, quieting the
indignation that always rose after he hung up on her. He didn't realize
what he was doing, but it still irked her. Couldn't he pretend for
awhile?

Scully sighed and dragged her feet to her bathroom. Pretend what? What
did she want from him? A normal life, maybe, a normal phone conversation
with hello and good-bye and no mention of bodies or cases. Well, she
thought, forget it. He doesn't know how to give you those things and you
wouldn't know how to take them, either.

It seemed almost pathetic, that realization, but she always felt this
kind of guilt that she hadn't turned out normal. Guilt because her
family pressed her, and the world at large pressured her, but she liked
being what she was.

Most times.

Scully adjusted the shower then stripped her pajamas off, ignoring her
reflection in the mirror. It was never good to look at herself before
she got a shower. It would just be depressing. Ribs against white skin
and black circles under heavy eyes. Well, at least this time she got
some sleep.

Chuckling to herself, she stood under the hot water, letting the spray
tickle her stomach and coast down her back. Her hair dripped and her
feet were quickly becoming prunes, but she stayed absolutely still for
just a bit longer.

Shampoo felt like soft hands caressing her hair, and she lathered it in
with deft strokes, relaxing even further. It rinsed free and she opened
her eyes. An hour. Only an hour. Get moving.
======

Mulder had to use her key to get in the building, and then he opened her
apartment door with it, glancing at his watch. He wasn't early. She must
have fallen back asleep.

He crept into her bedroom, but she wasn't there. He heard noises from
the bathroom and spun around, catching sight of her as she closed the
door behind her.

She jumped, he jumped, they stared at each other.

"Sorry, Scully. . .I let myself in."

"Yeah. I can see that."

She brushed by him, grabbing underwear and jeans from her dresser, the
towel gaping in front and offering him a beautiful view he was too male
to pass up. When she straightened, he blushed furiously and turned in
her room, heading for the door.

"Mulder?"

He grunted and turned just his head to see her, knowing that if he
paused at all, he would do something very foolish.

"Where are we going to eat?"

"I was thinking Graham's."

"In DC?" she said, her face crestfallen.

"Hungry, are we? No, the one here."

He liked wacthing her face as he spoke to her. So many different looks
in the set of her mouth, the slant of her eyes, the curl of her brow.
The one now was polite interest, masking a burning curiousity that
flared in her eyes.

"There's one here?"

"Yes. About four blocks over. I drove, but we can walk, if you'd like."

Her nose wrinkled and he realized he had turned back around to face her,
and he didn't think he'd be able to move. She was back at her dresser,
grabbing a brush and quickly pulling it through her wet hair.

"Let's drive. It's too hot to walk," she said, casting a long glance in
his direction.

He licked his lips and nodded, very aware of her standing there,
dripping in some places, the towel damp and her toes rooting in the
carpet.

"Yeah. You're right. Too hot."

She glanced back as he turned away, and he prayed she didn't catch the
real meaning of his words.
======

Scully could feel the difference today, and maybe that was why she took
the trouble to put on make-up. Not a lot, just a bit to even out her
complexion and make her eyes stand out. Usually, she went completely
clean on the weekends, no make-up, no suits, no high heels. 

She wore jeans and a white T-shirt her brother had gotten from
Washington state. It had a row of apples and the words 'an apple a day'
printed beneath them. She hadn't worn it since college, and she was
feeling the difference. Especially since she had been just a tad smaller
then, and now, the shirt clung just a bit. Not too bad, though.

She opened her bedroom door and walked into the living room, seeing
Mulder sprawled on her couch, flipping channels on the television. He
turned it off when she came in, and glanced up at her, eyes shining.

"Scully. . .whew. . .that shirt."

She frowned and glanced at her T-shirt.

"Apples, huh?" he said and stood up to grin devilishly at her.

"Shut up, Mulder. I'll change-"

"No! Don't change. You look. . .cute."

Her eyebrows furrowed together, and she stepped away from him. Cute?

He reached out and grabbed her belt loops, making her turn to see him.
He was smiling and his hands were warm on her hips, his fingers curled
to touch the skin above her waist. It was like little circles of heat
crawling up her sides.

"Scully?"

"Yeah?" she whispered, and she wanted to run. Wanted to break for the
door and keep going. His light touch of fingers kept her grounded
though.

"I'm paying, okay? None of your arguments when we get the check."

She nodded without understanding his words, then followed him to the
door, all on a kind of automatic response system. She was frantically
trying to figure out when this day had turned into *more* and when she
had let it.

Oh no, wait. "You're paying? Wh-"

"Stop. Let me do it. Okay, please?"

She sighed and wiggled on the spot, her fingers wringing together with
something akin to panic.

"Okay," she said, dropping her eyes to see his feet.

A touch at her chin brought her head up again, and he was watching her
closely, his lips pursed. He didn't say anything, but she could tell
what was in his eyes, in his touch and breath and body. He was saying,
just lunch, this is just lunch. . .but it could be more.

He took her hand and slipped out to the hallway, tugging her along
behind him. All this confidence in him, all the certain, sure moves and
touch of fingers against her skin. She had always seen it in him, and at
times, experienced the jolt when he wasn't sure, wasn't certain. But
never had he been so leading with her, guiding her as if she were some
innocent novice of love.

Love. Was that what this was? And where exactly was he leading her?

There was just too much to think about, too much random feeling in the
air. Just lunch. Take it like that.
======

Mulder was disappointed in her cool repose, in the soft subtle way she
ignored his advances. Advances. Whatever his actions were, they were not
advances anymore. Something like retreats. With every motion or word or
hint, she drew further away from him.

Whatever. He wasn't going to try anymore. He had promised, in a way,
only lunch. Leave it at that. She hadn't outright told him to take a
hike, but maybe she was just being nice. Didn't want to hurt him or
something.

The roast beef was good here. He had to remember that. It was soaked in
some kind of Monterey sauce that made it almost spicey hot, with bits of
chopped mushrooms in there too. It tasted wonderful. Graham's was always
the best place to eat, but he had never tried this before. Mental note
-- roast beef, only get the baked potato next time because the mashed--

"Mulder?"

He glanced up, stunned. She was looking at him as if he was a wild
animal, and therefore needed to be handled very carefully. 

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" she asked, twirling her straw between two fingers and
raising an eyebrow.

"Uh. Yes?"

She nodded, but didn't look satisfied. He figured it was one of those
woman things, where she was thinking about all this relationship stuff
and interpreting his movements for signs of discontent or frustration.
And all he was thinking about was his roast beef.

"Mulder, I don't want you to think-"

"Hey, Scully. I'm a guy. I'm not really thinking right now. I was just
wondering if you knew how to make this stuff. . ."

She blinked and looked down at his plate, watching his fork as he
motioned to the sauce covering his meat. He wanted to laugh; her look
was precious. He also didn't want her to know that he was worried, that
he *had* been thinking. Just let her ease back into their casual
relationship, then take it from there.

When she looked up at him, her eyes were smiling and he felt his heart
jumpstart.

"Yeah. I bet I could. But of course, I could show you, and then you
could do it yourself."

He frowned. "We could do it together. Cooking by myself is no fun."

She nodded. "All right. Sounds good to me."

"How about Sunday night?" he said, crossing his fingers beneath the
table.

She didn't even pause. "Sure. Come on over."

He grinned and leaned back, finished and utterly full. That was great.
The roast beef and his swift moves to make her stop double checking
every little thing he did. Just lunch, Scully.

She finished her coffee and let him take the check, then followed him to
the cash register. He paid quickly, then guided her outside, the heat
baking their chilled skin with an intensity he'd never felt before.

"It's got to be a hundred, easy," he said and unlocked the car.

"This weather is ridiculous."

"Try telling that to God, Scully. See what he says."

She rolled her eyes and got inside, watching him settle into the seat
and adjust the headrest again. He could feel her eyes on him and he
turned to waggle his eyebrows, delighting in the little grin she
afforded him. A smile. He got a smile from her.

The air conditioner roared as he turned on the engine, and they were
soon backing out of the tight space and onto the road. She buckled in
her seatbelt then pushed on the radio. The music sort of soaked into the
background and faded away. Mulder wanted to take her hand and hold it
for a little while, but he ignored that urge and kept his hands on the
wheel.
======

Scully fiddled with her seatbelt, turning the cloth in her fingers as
she stared out the window. She knew there was something going on with
Mulder, but she wasn't sure how to pin it down. Hadn't she wanted him to
stop pretending? He had been doing a good job of not pretending all
dinner long, with his sly looks and intense vibes.

Vibes. She was turning sappy. But there had been something there,
something more, and the current of tension that always ran through them
pleasantly was like a tidal wave, sucking at her shore until the sand
beneath her feet was eroded and she was left standing on nothing.

When they got to her apartment again, she led him inside and locked the
door behind them, a sort of habit that said more for her subconscious
desires than anything else.

Mulder walked to her kitchen and grabbed a glass of water, only after
complaining that she had no Coke. She sat down on the couch and watched
him walk back into the living room, his hips thin and bony in his jeans.
His eyes were dark, a sure sign that things were intense, and his lips
were still damp from his drink. His fingers curled in thin air and she
could imagine her waist in his grip, tight and snug.

He sat down beside her, taking her hand as if he'd been waiting his
whole life to do it, and kissed her knuckles, smiling with
self-degradation. As if to say, I know I'm nothing. She hated that look,
wished she never had to see it in him, especially in regards to herself.

Her thumb swiped over his lips as he moved away, and she felt the little
jerk and thrill in the air, felt their covers dropping away. Their
image, their personas, were falling to the wayside, all for the little
touch.

Then he reverted back to his side of the couch and smiled softly, then
asked about something entirely different that she didn't even
understand. And why in the world hadn't he pressed his advantage? She
would have kissed him. . .she would have.

She sat back and contented herself with talking about work. They'd never
get past this little dance.
======

The timing was perfect. She was relaxed again, the tension between them
almost nonexistent. She wouldn't be expecting it.

He still hesitated. He'd stopped it before, stopped because he wanted to
take her mouth off-guard, wanted to feel her surprise as he brushed her
lips. And he wanted a true reaction, nothing faked, no pretenses. He
wanted her.

It was perfect. He could do it right now, while she talked about some
body they'd found two days ago. He could lean over there and kiss her,
feel the change as she switched from agent to woman. He had felt that
shift before, rarely yes, but he had felt it. He wanted to feel that
switch.

Maybe not while she was talking about bodies. Ah, now, he was getting
her to talk about her mother. Smooth. Her mother and her brothers and
their families, and he'd lean forward and dispel that wistful look
aching in her eyes. He wanted to wipe that need away. 

But he wanted it special, untainted. He didn't want to taste the
bitterness of what she'd lost behind the kiss. Was the time going to be
right, would he get it just right? Would he wimp out again, like he did
so many times?

She had asked him a question and as he answered, he watched her eyes
float away. She was somewhere else now, not thinking about what he was
saying or where he was going with it. She wasn't even listening anymore.

"And that's how I managed to think of the killer hiding the weapon in
the garden. You're not listening to me anymore, are you? I didn't think
so. That's pretty cute, you know. Your eyes look like the ocean and
you've set sail across it, leaving me behind."

He smiled because he could say anything and she would nod and smile and
be in her little fantasy world.

"I could kiss you now, Scully. You'd be surprised. You wouldn't know how
to respond except by whatever your heart told you. You look good today
Scully, with that soft halo of contentment surrounding you."

He stopped talking and watched her for a moment, knowing that it was
right and he'd never get another better chance than this.

Pushing down nerves, he leaned in and took her head in his hands, his
lips following too quickly afterward for her to take in what was
happening. His mouth against hers was like the gentle touch of water to
sand, nibbling away her surprise like pulling the shore out to sea. She
was stiff for a second, locked in her world with him pushing inside it,
and then she was boneless in his arms.

He wrapped her closer into him, nudging her lips open with the tip of
his tongue, finding heat to sear him like a brand. Her hands were in
fists at his sides, clutching his shirt to hang on for dear life.

"M. .." 

Whatever she'd been about to say was caught in his tongue slipping
between her lips, muffling her words with a hot mouth delving into hers.

When he pulled back, his hands were trembling against her cheeks, his
thumb stroking her lips even as he left them, watching her bright eyes
with heavy-lidded passion.

"Mulder?" she said.

"It'd better be. . ." he whispered.

She laughed weakly, pushing forward to sag against his chest. He rubbed
her back, feeling rather proud he'd mustered enough courage to actually
do it, prouder still that she hadn't clobbered him for it.

"Why the hell did you make me wait all day for that?" she said.

He froze. "What?"

She looked up from the shelter of his shirt with an impish grin.
"Mulder. . .I knew from the moment you called, exactly what you were up
to."

"You did not!"

She shrugged, her lips twitching. He leaned forward and snagged them
again, a daring he hadn't known before burning through him.

"You couldn't have known I was going to do that. . ." he said.

She was reeling, her fingers clutching his shirt as she tried to
breathe.

"N-no. Didn't see that one coming."

"Good. Wouldn't want to be predictable."

"Oh, you're never predictable, Mulder. No worry there."

Only five seconds after the best kiss of his life and she was cracking
those dry jokes. He wanted to shake her up again, listen to that
flustered stutter.

"Do you love me, Scully?"

She tensed again, but only for a moment, then glanced up to look in his
eyes.

"What do you think?"

He grinned goofily and wiggled on the couch, pulling her closer to him.

"I think I'm tired of this game. I think you love me tons and you just
can't bear to live without me."

She laughed again. "Something like that, yeah."

He closed his eyes with the warmth of her smile, basking in it. He
wanted to just sit there on the couch with her wrapped all around him
like this, forever and ever, her lips *that* close to touching his and
her hands making those designs on his chest.

"Hey, Scully?"

"Yeah?" Her words were soft and he wondered if she was going to fall
asleep.

"You wanna marry me?"

"Okay."

He grinned. "I'm not kidding here."

"I know."

"You're serious?" he said.

"Of course."

"Good. Say it."

"What?"

He wiggled in her grip and nipped the roundness of her chin, then
trailed up to the corner of her lips.

"Say you want to marry me."

"I want to marry you."

"Ah. . .beautiful. Why?"

She stiffened and pulled away from him, her eyes flashing. "What do you
mean? Mulder, stop playing aorund. I hate that."

"We do it all the time, Scully. But I'm not playing around. Why the hell
would you want to marry me?"

She looked floored, her face blank and wary.

"Because. . .because you're Mulder."

"And you love me?"

"That goes without saying. . .at least, I think it goes without saying.
You know that right? I mean, surely you knew that when you decided to
kiss me today. You know that I love you-"

He stopped her with a gentle hand to her lips, his eyes shining with
something that looked suspiciously like tears.

"You're  not crying, are you?" she whispered.

He shook his head even as the tears dropped down his cheeks.

Feeling touched, special, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to
those tears, tasting the salt and the relief behind them.

"Okay now?" she said.

He nodded.

"Good. Let me tell you something. I can't promise this is going to be
wonderful all the time, but it's surely going to be better than playing
this dumb game. Stepping around what we feel because it's not
professional, or because we just. . .just don't know how to deal with
it. I can't promise you  that I'll be very good at giving up this little
charade we've got going, but one thing. . .one thing I *can* promise."

She was fingering his lips with a gentle touch, her thumb gliding over
his mouth and cheeks then back to the thick lower lip as if fascinated.

"I can promise that I'm not going to leave you. I won't leave you. No
matter what. Got it, Mulder?"

He nodded. "I got it. Ditto for me, too."

She smiled and arched her neck towards him, allowing him to move forward
and snag that little mouth with his own. When he leaned back, he felt
drops of tears wetting his cheeks.

She was struggling not to let the tears fall, her eyes wide and blue
with the effort.

"You're not crying, are you?" he whispered.

She smacked his arm and buried her nose in his chest, feeling the warmth
of his arms surrounding her.

"Not anymore," she said.
======

end
adios
RM