Title: You've Got the Look Author: abracadabra Email: abracadabra1754@hotmail.com Rating: NC-17 Archive: Please do, but let me know where. Category: S, Erotica Keywords: MSR Spoilers: Late S7, Requiem has not happened. An existing relationship. Summary: Loneliness, casual clothes, a definition and some smut. Disclaimer: No matter how I try, they are still not mine. Scully and Mulder probably still belong to Chris Carter, 1013 and Fox. Of course, Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny belong to themselves. Either way, I make no money off of writing about them. URLs: http://www.geocities.com/spookys_girl2000/index.html http://www.geocities.com/fanficcorner/index.html Thanks: To Denise and Traci for reading and suggesting. Author's Notes: A light, tongue-in-cheek story, written for Kim, my friend, my beta and someone who loves this Mulder *look*, lol... And, just for good measure, there are a few of her other favorite elements thrown in. You'll have to ask her what they are because my lips are sealed. Feedback: Would love it. Date: Funny thing, that... This was supposed to be written in one day. All I'm saying is that it was finished on 4 October 2002. *|||*|||*|||*|||*|||*|||*|||*|||*|||* You've Got the Look by abracadabra *|||*|||*|||*|||*|||*|||*|||*|||*|||* |*|*|*| Fox Mulder's Apartment Friday Night, 7:00pm Listless. Lethargic. Lonely. Lazy. He could go on, but his string of alliterative words was becoming progressively negative. Loose-limbed. That was better. It didn't matter in the long run. There was only one cure for his condition and her name was Dana Katherine Scully. Damn, why had he tried so hard to convince her that he had 'plans'? When the hell was the last time he'd had any plans that didn't include her? And what had made her think he'd been serious? So many questions, so much time without her. He'd been home for two hours and what had he done, really? Managed to drink half a carton of almost past the freshness date OJ and kick off his shoes? Progress, thy name is Mulder. He kept his dress shirt. Oh, the tie had been gone on his way in the door and was now hanging unevenly on the coat rack, but the steel gray dress shirt had remained. Collar opened, top three buttons undone, sleeves pushed up over his elbows. Tails now haphazardly tucked into his trousers. Heading into the bedroom, he stumbled over his Cole-Haans, the toes of his socks catching on the tongue of the slip-on loafer. Cursing soundly, the doorframe managed to break his fall. By the time he reached his dresser, he'd wondered what he was looking for. It had been a long day; that's why he couldn't remember he rationalized as he removed his socks, leaving them on the edge of the bed. One last stop and his suit pants were replaced with his well-worn, button-front Levis. Moving aimlessly around that room in which he rarely slept unless Scully was here; he wondered where she was and why she wasn't at least calling to see what he was doing. Or calling to suggest he pick up some pizza and stop by? That had been their routine over the last several months and his precise and ordered partner was acting more like him -- imprecise and disordered. He stalked back into the living room, grabbing his glasses from the top drawer of his desk. Not even bothering to turn it to face the right way, he sat down in front of the computer, straddling the chair from behind. He logged on to his email account hoping to improve his official lack-of-Scully funk. No messages worth reading. Taking a deep breath and then sighing, he pushed the glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose and ran a hand through his hair. Not one to usually care much about the view from his window, he found himself staring through the glass, bored. The images outside the pane blurred through the for-reading-only glasses. And then the phone rang, startling him more than he cared to admit. Looking around to see where he'd last left the mobile unit, he located it buried under the last set of newspapers he'd had time to read. "Mulder" He felt some of his earlier edginess recede, her voice a soothing balm. "Sitting here wondering when you were going to call." Walking with the cordless phone, he moved over to the couch and then dropped down into it, head back on the armrest, bouncing once before he crossed his legs at his ankles. He smiled at her choice of words; everything revolved around planned order. Most of the time. He prided himself on having been able to jostle her just a bit, bringing some unexpected play into world. "No, we hadn't Scully, but--" He could swear he heard laughter. He could almost see her smile. "*But*, get over here Scully." Not giving her time to respond, he ended the call and set the phone down on the coffee table. Friday night had just gotten a whole lot better. |*|*|*| Sometime Later... "Mulder, are you in there?" DreamMulder replied. DreamMulder's fingers kneaded DreamScully's ass a little tighter, loving the feel of her flesh beneath his fingers. "I'm using my key, Mulder." DreamMulder ignored the foreign word and thrust upward as he gripped DreamScully's hips tighter. Bolting upright, light dawned on a somewhat rumpled Mulder. He'd told Scully to come over and she was at the door; not riding him to within an inch of their lives. 'Key' -- she was going to use her key since he hadn't opened the door for her. He had it bad -- very bad. Taking a moment to bring some order to his tousled couch hair, he called out to her, "Let yourself in, Scully." He blinked repeatedly in the dark, adjusting to the mid-evening shadows formed by the streetlight streaming in through the slatted blinds. "Mulder?" Her question was subdued and hung suspended in the silence of his apartment. The hallway light fixture created a glowing halo around the love of his life, rendering the rest of her almost without shape or substance. Almost ethereal. It was hard for him to remember just when he'd started thinking of her in that way, but there was no doubt about the fact that he did. And he knew she felt the same way, too. He stood and then moved toward her slowly, soundlessly. Watching the way her head tilted to one side. Watching as her hand, still holding the doorknob, slowly closed it behind her. Watching as her eyes sought his, never wavering from him. |*|*|*| Although they were now on equal footing, their eyes having adjusted to the absence of much more than diffused ambient lighting, she felt at a slight disadvantage. He had her. He always seemed to 'have her' lately. Not that she was complaining. He'd obviously been napping. The errant spikiness, the soft locks falling across his forehead, the glasses-- She stopped at the glasses. He must've fallen asleep reading. Did he have any idea how hot they made him look? She wanted to strip him of those glasses. Before or after the clothing, she wasn't sure. Her gaze swept downward, hoping he'd feel the caress. The silvery gray shirt he'd worn to the office today. Now making him look disheveled and rakish, the collar unbuttoned, the tails partially outside his jeans. Her temperature rose a few degrees. This man could be dressed so casually she mused, as she noted the way the curved hem on the left side appeared to be carelessly stuffed into the beltless waistband of his jeans. His favorite pair, if she wasn't mistaken. The pair she told him wasn't decent for public consumption. She'd told him the last time he'd shown up at Starbucks at three in the morning about a month ago. She'd made a point of telling him when he'd found her there after a late night autopsy at the hospital across the street from the coffee shop. And then she'd told him as he'd slid into the rubbed wood booth, bumping up against her purposely, his hip nudging hers. Sending a devastating tingling through her. And after that, she'd tried to convince him as her hand had wandered inside the rather large and threadbare tear in the denim that highlighted a nice span of his thigh. A nice span of firmly muscled thigh, if she remembered correctly. An imperceptible shake of her head brought her back to the present and she willed herself to end this train of thought before she found more of that very threadbare denim, inserted her fingers inside and dragged him to the floor. Although her logical mind posed an important question: How would that be a problem? After all, it had been a long day in the office and an almost interminable evening at her apartment. And she'd found thoughts of him prohibiting any further attempts at relaxing. On a rather unScully-like impulse, she'd picked up the phone, not sure if she'd just needed to hear his voice or see him. The minute she'd heard him tell her to 'get over here', her decision had been rendered. Her mind had been a swirl of half-processed thoughts on the drive over, the predominant thought that she wanted him. Looking at the just how those levis seemed to hug his hips and thighs. Looking long enough and far enough to notice his bare feet. Oh Mulder. He had to know just how much she loved those feet. His feet. she honestly couldn't recall being turned on by, any other man's feet. she wasn't even sure she'd ever paid them any attention. She was frozen in time and space. Not a bad state, as long as it was temporary. |*|*|*| Fully awake now, Mulder allowed the image of his partner's rather frank appraisal of him to draw the corners of his mouth upward. He was enjoying this moment and was quite willing to continue the stalemate. There was just something about a Scully once over that was enough to ratchet up his usually over-active thermostat. So, he was quite willing to wait and see which one of them would make the next move. Or was it the first move? She'd clearly dropped whatever she was doing to get here as he had hoped she would. Although he found himself wanting her often, there were times when that desire was so strong he could feel it and he was ill-equipped to deal with delayed gratification. This was one of those times. His eyes traveled over her, also. From the tips of her toes where they peeked out of her open wedge sandals, to the firm sleekness of her calves and thighs, the hem of her loose knit shorts barely grazing her skin. To the gracious curve of her hips and the rolled waistband that rested just below her navel. He drew in a sharp breath; noting that her own breathing was coming in rather shallow pants, as well. Drawing his eyes upward to meet hers, he slowly took in the uneven edge of her cropped tee before following it over her rising and falling chest. Ever the man to note details, the fact that she appeared braless registered. And had an instant effect. An instant physical effect. Breaking the heated silence, his voice sounded rough to his own ears. "Leave home in a hurry, Scully?" Her response sounded equally rough. "I wasn't sure if you were all right." "I wasn't. I'm not." He wondered how seriously she'd take him. "Oh? Struck by a misdirected bullet? Mauled by some She-Beast? Or--" Obviously, she hadn't taken him all that seriously. He'd fix that. Hands in his pockets, he walked toward her, the look on his face focused. Predatory. Now standing twelve inches from her, he smiled, tilting his head to one side. "Cliched as it may sound, you're the only She-Beast I want mauling me, Scully." His smile matched hers as she closed the distance between them.