-The Cannibal King and the Dusty Maid--
 By Pam Gamble and Slippin' Mickeys
 
 CLASSIFICATION: V, MSR, post ep (all things) 
 
 RATING: R
 
 SUMMARY: The one and only official "all things" post-ep.
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiight. 
 
 KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully romance
  
 SPOILERS: all things, 3
 
 DISCLAIMER: We're cynical 20-something women. We're not a cameo loving
surfhound with lots of money. Thats pretty much it.
 
 ARCHIVE: Let us know where it's going first.  
 
 FEEDBACK: Heck yes! red_phile@yahoo.com and i12blv2@cs.com
 
Slippin's NOTES: I got the impetus for this when I was (re)watching the
opening scene in 'all things' and thought to myself, "you know, Mulder
has an awfully close shave for lying there at O' Dark Thirty..." And then
I'd
been talking to Pam who was positive that they, well, *did it* and then it
evolved. And I finally got to use my title. :) Thanks Pam, for co-ing on
this one when it turned to ____ on me.

Pam's NOTES: Pam has no notes. She hates doing them.

  


-The Cannibal King and the Dusty Maid--

Mulder closed the refrigerator door quietly and left the kitchen, trying to
tip toe his way to his bedroom without waking Scully. As he passed by the
couch, he glanced fondly down at her and found her staring right back.

"I'd thought you'd fallen asleep," he said softly, pausing next to the
couch.

She smiled softly at him and shook her head, looking adorable with the
blanket still pulled up to her neck.

"You weren't faking it to get me to shut up were you?"

"No," she finally answered, shifting somewhat but still remaining
underneath the blanket.

"It's late, Scully" Mulder said after a beat, "you're tired. Do you want me
to give you a ride home or do you want to stay here?"

"Stay," she muttered, and he nodded.  "You can have the bed if you want."

She shook her head. "You, stay."  Her hand patted the couch beside her. 

Breath whooshed from his chest. He sat down gingerly beside her, watched
her 
finger the fringe of the blanket.  "I didn't want you to get cold."

She looked into his eyes for what seemed like forever.

"Thank you," she said finally, moving her hand up to cup his cheek.

She ran her thumb along his skin, rasping along his five o'clock shadow. 

He simply gave her a small smile and shrugged. 

She looked at him a moment more and let her hand drop, standing up from the
couch. The blanket tumbled down around her feet.

He was sure she was heading for the door and had half a mind to stand up
and
stop her—to argue that it was too late and that she was too tired. But she
didn't turn to leave.

She held out her hand to him, still sitting there at the couch looking up
at her quizzically. 

"C'mere," she said, and she squeezed her hand closed once and opened it
again, making it clear she wasn't moving until he did. 

Tentatively, he put his hand in hers and stood and followed when she began
to slowly make her way to his bathroom. 

He stopped in the doorway and she dropped his hand, moving forward
purposefully, feeling his eyes on her and not caring. 

She went about taking things out of his medicine cabinet and setting them
on 
the small countertop. When she was finally finished, she hoisted herself up

to sit on the sink and finally met Mulder's curious gaze.

"Come here, Mulder," she said, tucking that same unruly piece of hair 
self-consciously behind her ear.

He took a few steps into the room and stood before her at arms length.

She breathed a small grin to the floor and looked up him. 

"I said come *here* Mulder," she repeated, and reached out to grab his
jeans at the waist and pull him until he was standing right in between her
legs. 

"Take off your shirt, Mulder," she said, staring dazedly at his chest.

Mulder squinted at her a moment and bent his head down a little, seemingly
trying to get a better look at her face.

"Scully?" He asked, the confusion and quiet fear painfully apparent in his
tone. 

She then dragged her gaze back up to his and raised her eyebrows slightly,
mocking him in a quiet and good humored reassurance. 

He nodded and promptly removed his shirt, gathering it up and over his head
and depositing it on the floor at his feet, looking down at Scully, waiting
trustfully. 

She wet a washcloth and brought it to his face, wetting it. She then
grabbed the can of shaving cream she had set aside and squeezed some out
onto her palm. When she rubbed her hands together and reached up to put
some on his face, he moved his head back slightly and she paused.

For the first time that evening, she looked somewhat unsure of herself and
asked, "Is this okay?"

He closed his eyes for a moment and then reached out to finger the cross
around her neck, thinking back to when he'd been wearing it around his own.


No. No one existed before her, or since her. He put it out of his mind, 
forever.

He met her eyes again as his hand fell back to his side and nodded to her,
smiling slightly for her benefit. 

She began shaving his face attentively and tactfully, the way she
approached everything, but Mulder got the feeling she was savoring it as
well.

"Jesus, Mulder, don't they have razors in Europe?"

He gently held her wrist away from his bobbing Adam's Apple as he answered 
her. "I was on the plane most of the time. Not a good idea to shave during 
turbulence. God forbid my dead body should block the beverage cart."

She pressed her lips into a tight smile. He knew she didn't like to joke 
about death.

Her tiny hands returned to her task.  As the blade scraped across his skin,

he watched his reflection in the mirror. It was both tender and very
erotic, 
watching her care for him.

As she reached back to rinse the blade, the words rumbled unexpectedly from

his throat. 

"I love you."

He watched her eyes in the mirror as they flicked to meet his. He was 
surprised to see that the look in her eyes matched his.

"You love me too, " he whispered reverently.

She looked down, splashing the razor in the soapy water, and nodded. 

She reached up again with the razor in her hand and pulled her lips into
her mouth, indicating she wanted him to do the same. He did without a word,
and she carefully scraped clean the area under his nose. 

She moved to do his chin, but paused, mid-stroke, letting the razor fall
away from his skin.

He blinked at her expectantly and she complied.

"We're so fucked up, Mulder." 

He made no move to argue, but sighed his agreement, his breath fanning her
face and causing the nefarious lock of hair to again fall into her face. 

She continued to gaze at the floor and only moved to look at him when he
swept it behind her again. 

"The Cannibal King and the Dusty Maid," she said, smiling softly, returning
to her task.

"Hmm?" He queried, careful not to move his head.

"The Cannibal King and the Dusty Maid," she repeated, then shook her head a
little, again dipping the razor back in the sink, "it's not important."

As she turned back to face him, her balance shifted and her body leaned
precariously 
forward. 

He grabbed her arm as she reached to him for counterbalance. Her legs
wrapped 
around his, reflex.

It seemed the most natural thing in the world to kiss her.

Her fingers pressed into his skin drifting around to scratch through his 
hair. He was completely enveloped in her. Heaven.

When she pulled away, he smiled and reached for the towel she'd left by the

sink.

"Here, you've got..." he wiped stray streaks of white foam from her face.
He 
was as careful and as gentle as she'd been. Looking in the mirror, he 
blotted his own face with the towel.

He felt her begin to ease off the sink, but leaned his body into hers.
"Wait."

He reached behind her, bottles clinking. Her  eyes never left his face. She

trusted him absolutely.

He placed a glass bottle in her hand, looked at her expectantly.
Aftershave.

She leaned in to kiss him one more time, feet pressing into his calves for 
leverage.

Wet drops darkened the pale skin of her hands, and she raised them to his 
face. Starting at the jawline, she gently rubbed in the scent. When he
clenched his jaw to swallow, she fingered the tiny muscles there lightly.

When she reached for the towel beside her to wipe the excess from her
hands,  
he stopped her wrist, instead bringing it to her own face. Pressing
lightly, 
he dragged her palm down both of her cheeks. 

He leaned in, taking a deep breath of her scent mixed with his own. The
want 
in his eyes nearly knocked her backward.

Then he reached for the bottom of her sweater. They had both been silent
for 
so long his moan startled them.

He dropped the sweater in her lap, but she pushed it aside into the floor.

She was past uncomfortable, sitting on the sink, and now she was cold.

She just wasn't sure whether the goosebumps were from the cold or his
touch. 

Dabbing his finger on the mouth of the bottle, he raised her chin, drawing
a 
line slowly down her throat, tracing her breastbone.

It struck her as animalistic, marking her with his scent. She shivered.

Another quick tip of the bottle, and his hands were back, tracing the upper

curves of her breasts.

She threw her head back, a deep sigh steaming from her closed lips, her
head clunking against the mirror. 

One more splash, and he rubbed his hands together slowly, separating them
to 
ease them under her skirt. Easing past the tops of her thigh-highs, he
rubbed 
slow circles over her soft skin. 

She looped her arms around his neck, nuzzling his collarbone. "You know, I 
told Missy once that I didn't believe in fate--that we all made our own 
choices."

He grunted, his fingers pressing deeper into her thighs. Overwhelmed, he 
could only question her with his eyes.

"But, if I'm going to believe in this, then...what if this *wasn't* meant
to 
be? What if fate had other plans for the two of us?" 

He kissed her, lifting her body into his. As he turned toward the bedroom,
he 
leaned into her ear, delighted with the aroma rising from her skin.

"Fate wouldn't dare mess with you, Scully."

"I think you're pretty safe, too," she whispered.

He stopped when he reached the foot of the bed—her legs still wrapped
around his waist securely, and pressed his forehead to hers.

"The Cannibal King, huh?"

She nodded, rolling her head against his. 

"And the Dusty Maid," she whispered. 


The End

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