"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.
.