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The Johnsons
The Johnsons '@ rȲ@ vܥh S e +\ &t +Y r l r l lr lr lr lr lr r r r r r r
r : r Ns = r r r r r r r r &s (s (s (s (s (s (s & s X s C Ns lr r / 0 r r r r Ns r lr lr r r r r r r lr r lr r &s r r lr lr lr lr r &s r L r From: Dreamshpr@aol.com
TITLE: Claimed
AUTHOR:Dreamshaper
FEEDBACK: is greatly desired, as always--send to dreamshpr@aol.com, if you so
desire!
ARCHIVING:Please do, if you want it. I love archives ;) Just drop me a line
if yours is not an archive I already live at...
RATING:nc17
CATEGORY: MSR, Scully pov
SPOILERS: Hmmm...season six seems about right ;) Nothing too serious.
SUMMARY: This is the hardest part of writing--summarizing. Suffice it to say
that there's fluff, sex, and expense reports ;)
DISCLAIMER: CC might have slipped his characters into my fic, but I make no
claim to them!
NOTES: I've been informed that I rate my stories too harshly, making an R
story Nc17 unnecessarily. Apparently, this is because I want people to read
it--however, I have faith that you'd all read this anyway ;) But I do rate
harshly, mainly to keep good little people away from material they don't need
to read, and to keep older people away from something they may not *want* to
read! I myself have been surprised one too many a time...
IMO, this is a fluffy smut biscuit, fresh from the oven ;) Enjoy!
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I had copies of Mulder's expense reports in hand and was puzzling over them
as I tapped my way down the hall to his office. The folks up in Accounting
had sicced someone on me the moment I entered the building, knowing full well
that Agent Mulder of the lost guns, broken cell phones and innumerable reams
of paperwork would *never* be reasonable. It was a game he played with them,
one he enjoyed and they got ulcers from--but they ad figured that if I could
just manage to remove one or two items from the lists...
They read like journal entries, and I found myself grinning as I remembered
the cow field that destroyed his favorite shoes, the suit destroyed when our
rental car broke down in the middle of nowhere and he had tried top fix it
himself before calling for help, the cell phone destroyed a few weeks ago in
that bank heist--
That wasn't an adventure I particularly cared to remember.
I shuffled that sheet to the back of the pack and continued on my way,
allowing the clip of my heels to give Mulder notice of my presence--I'd
prefer *not* to walk in on any video viewing that wasn't authorized.
"Mulder," I said as I crossed the threshold into the office, "did you really
hope to claim your safety deposit for the boat you rented in Florida? That
wasn't an authorized FBI expenditure, and the accountants up above aren't
too--"
I was interrupted by a pencil whizzing past my cheek, landing with a sharp
thud in the wall next to the door--the wall that was still sheet rocked.
Turning slowly, I found about a dozen pencils embedded in the smooth surface.
I turned to face my small child of a partner, eyes carefully blank and face
expressionless. "Well, if it weren't for the other dozen pencils," I murmured
as I moved away from his target and towards the chair in front of his desk,
"I'd think you were less than happy to talk expense reports with me."
No reply. Mulder wasn't even looking at me--his eyes were trained above my
head, one of his lips was caught between his teeth. His hands toyed idly with
one of the many sharp pencils lined neatly along the edge of the desk.
I sighed, I had to. I was never sure what to expect with Mulder--but had
hoped to come in and find something other than the state of detached
moroseness he settled into on occasion--thankfully, less often now than in
the last half of last year...I had hoped to come in and find the same eager,
playful Mulder who took me out to play ball a few weeks ago. And I was in a
looser mood myself--for once, I wouldn't have minded playing a bit,
bantering. I might even have found some innuendoes of my own to toss.
But pencils were the tossables of the day, I realized as another went
flashing by me.
Frowning, I looked up at the ceiling. If it was about to crash under the
weight of still more pencils, I was fully prepared to knock Mulder out of his
chair, climb up on it and liberate some of the slender sticks. I didn't want
to be up in the bullpen again with him while they repaired our ceiling.
But I had forgotten--the new ceiling wasn't friendly towards pencil tosses.
It bounced them back unmercifully--Mulder had almost put his eye out last
week after absently chucking one.
Well, that would explain the wall then.
"Mulder." I said the word gently, keeping my tone light and just faintly
questioning. "Mulder?"
Nothing. For a long time, we sat there in the cool, dim office. Mulder's
long, lanky frame was quite deliberately slouched, his lower lip was pouty
when not caught between his teeth, and those damnable pencils just kept
whizzing past me.
And his eyes never met mine.
Just when I was about to leap the desk and wring his neck if one more pencil
thudded into the wall, he deigned to speak.
"Did you ever think about what life would have been like if we hadn't met,
Scully?"
Confused, I frowned for a minute. He'd asked that question before--but there
was an undercurrent today that I hadn't heard before. So I denied the
flippant answer that ached to dance of my tongue and replied as thoughtfully
as I could on such short notice.
"It's not something I think of often, Mulder, not really. But...I suppose I'd
be in Quantico, doing autopsies and teaching. You'd be down here with videos
stacked to the ceiling and files overflowing the cabinets. People all over
the building would be bored, not having the possibility of sex between us to
ponder, and Skinner'd have a few less ulcers." I frowned, sighed again and
rose to perch on the edge of the desk.
It was like I'd burned him. He leapt away, as if startled, and paced into the
other section of the office, leaving me to frown in his wake and wonder.
I spun around to keep him in sight, squinting to see him in the more deeply
shadowed corner of the room he stood in. He leaned with apparent nonchalance
against a file cabinet, one hand light on a narrow hip.
"Is that what's on your mind?" I finally questioned in a gentle murmur. It
might have been a delaying tactic, it might have been a random question, I
had no idea. As obsessed as Mulder is with the truth, he's quite capable of
hiding it behind layers of gauzy nonreplies.
He just made a rumbling noise in the back of throat, apparently not intending
to reply. I almost groaned--I was in no real mood to fight his moods. But it
had to be done, or nothing else would. Besides, I was confident that he'd
tell me what was going on...sooner or later. He can never hide from me for
very long.
I've often wondered why that was. In most cases, with most people, he can be
as vague and difficult as he want. But when I have my mind set on getting
what I want--I do, more often than not. Long ago when that trait began to
manifest itself, I assumed it was simply a loyalty thing. But now, years
later...I have to hypothesize that it's something deeper than that.
I have to believe that, if only for the sake of my sanity--which at times
seems quite close to unhinged.
Like when he's like this.
He pushed off the cabinet, pacing back and forth in the small room with a
restless stride that made my heart ache--and pound, just a bit. There's
something magnetic in that walk, looselimbed and elegant as it is though it
ought to be awkward, gangly, given his height. Given the length of those legs
moving so purposefully though he made only small, exact circles...
His voice, finally coming from the shadows, caught my wandering attention,
and I had to sigh inwardly in faint relief--and faint regret.
"--all the time, Scully. I mean--I was wondering this morning in the shadow,
what would life be like if you weren't in it? And not for the first time, I
couldn't even imagine it. I couldn't even think of who I might be, *where* I
might be, if you weren't with me." The words poured from but were almost
absent as he continued his restless passage. "I can see *you* without
me--married maybe, with a baby or two, teaching and cutting--but I can't see
myself."
I hate that image he has of me--almost the happy hausfrau. It might suit a
billion women on this planet--but I never really thought myself cut out for
marriage and children. And the way he sees it--it's almost limiting. The
possible Scully he sees without him is so one dimensional--not a woman to
make a wrinkle on the world.
I've always been determined to make a wrinkle.
But I sit silently as he mutters his way through his recitation of Mulderless
Scully's charms and Scullyless Mulder's not existence.
There are times when it doesn't pay to interrupt him, times when he plows
down nagging and reassurance like innocent bystanders to the Cadillac of
insecurity.Times when he's only looking to torture himself.
But when he had run down, when he had slouched back into his seat and picked
up another pencil, I let the silence hum between us for a few more seconds,
knowing there was more.
And I was right.
"I can picture you happy without me in your life, Scully." He finally said on
a sigh, one hand rubbing tiredly across his cheeks, and I smiled.
"Can you, Mulder? I can't, personally. I'd have been bored in a year
teaching, and out of my mind trapped in one place all the time. I like my
life as it is now--not the things that happen in it sometimes, but I'm
content enough to carry on as I am."
He laughed dryly, bitterly, and tilted his head back against his chair.
Perched across from him, I watched his throat ripple as he gulped down air,
watched his chest heave in a silent sigh, and I wanted to find the words to
reassure him...but I couldn't quite figure out *why* he needed the
reassurance.
"That's good, Scully." He finally said, voice only a little huskier than
normal. "Because it's too late to change who and what we are."
"Too late, and not really desired," I murmured agreeably, but he rolled right
over my words as if I hadn't spoken...
"And I couldn't let you go now, no way."
I arched a brow instantaneously. Couldn't let me go?
But it wouldn't have been possible to get a word in edgewise--he continued
along with his train of thought, thinking out loud and imagining or
pretending--or forgetting--that I was there.
"Too much has changed in me." He murmured to the ceiling. "I can't be alone
now. Not after years of working...not after such a long time. And too much
has changed in the fight--all the players, all the lies, all the truths--"
"Well, there would always be Diana." I murmured dryly, and looked him dead on
when his head whipped down and his eyes glared into mine.
"That's something you don't seem to understand, Scully." He told me grimly,
watching my eyes. "I might have had Diana, and she might have had me. But I
was as alone in her company as I am in just my own. As I never am in yours."
That came close to choking me up, something he didn't notice because his head
was already resting back again. I had to search for words...and couldn't find
any.
But he was continuing--apparently with an abundance of the precious commodity.
"That was an odd realization, Scully, one I made a long time ago. I was alone
with my family, alone with my friends, alone with my coworkers, alone with
the few lovers I had. But you walked in the door and you were suddenly so
deeply imbedded into my life that there was no *room* for me to be alone.
There was always you--and you were gone, or you were ill, or you were hurt or
hurting. And God forbid I be a part of your loneliness when you needed
me--God forbid you *need* me. I swear, I've spent five of the last six years
chasing after you!"
The anger in his tone dropped my jaw. "*You've* been chasing after *me*?" I
finally said in astonishment. "That is *not* even funny, Mulder! I've been
chasing you when you disappear without a word, following you down countless
hospital corridors, sitting beside you a thousand times when you were injured
and down one of those corridors--and you have the temerity to say that you've
been chasing *me*?" Angry myself then, I rose and crossed the floor to stand
directly in front of him, tapping a foot and near to growling as I waited for
a reply.
But before he made one, he rose, using his height and proximity to tower over
me in a way he hadn't done in years, and I was forced to tilt my head back in
order to scowl at him.
"Yes, Scully, I've been chasing you." He rumbled, the words caustic. "For
years now, *years*! Since that damned idiot Tooms nearly got to you, and I
realized that you were the only thing between me and loneliness!"
"Oh, well then!" I hissed, tossing my hands out. "In that case, why don't I
go see if I can't find another liver eating mutant, and we can try to reverse
the realization!"
The words had barely left my mouth before his lips were on mine, angry,
frustrated and burning with hunger.
For a moment, I stood shocked under the assault, but then it began to change
into a gently sweet kiss, no less devouring for it's sudden tenderness...and
I was lost.
With a sigh, I looked into his eyes, so close to my own, and I let the kiss
slide deeper--let myself slide deeper till I felt like I was in a vacuum,
everything sucked out except the center of me that was being so affected. And
I closed my eyes to better appreciate the feeling, allowed Mulder to pull me
into his arms and keep me caught close...
And when he slipped free, when we stopped to breath--I kept my eyes closed
and absorbed.
That was all I *could* do.
His forehead dropped onto mine in a customary caress and he laughed quietly,
husky and warm against my fevered skin. "I couldn't let you go, Scully. For a
thousand reasons and because I love you, I couldn't let you go. If you left,
I'd have to follow."
I smiled, looped my hands around his wrists on my face, and permitted my
emotions to free themselves. They'd been trapped for a long time.
"I've been following for a long time," I told him quietly. "For a thousand
reasons. And I couldn't leave for one--I love you, too."
A kiss followed my declaration, softer and less wild than the one preceding
it, and I laughed with the discovery of it. And ignoring all the declarations
of good sense, I slipped his tie out of it's knot, began to slip buttons
through their slits...and began to savor his skin.
I'd seen him naked before, seen him and touched him--but naked and naked and
aroused are two different qualities all together, and they felt entirely
different. Even his *skin* felt different, softer and more supple against my
questing palms. Considering, I trailed my hands through the dark hair on his
chest, through the thickening span of it as it curled towards his stomach,
and I delighted in his intake of air, the grunting release of it. He broke
the kiss then to laugh shakily against me.
"I don't think you want to be doing this here, Scully." He murmured in
breathless tones. "Not unless you want to follow through on the desk..." His
eyebrow rose and fell suggestively and he grinned, comfortable in his role of
innuendo provider--so I did something I hoped would shock him.
I looked behind me at the desk, high, gleaming, glossy and covered in pencils
and shook my head. "No, not the desk." I said and turned back to face him
with a small smile. "I was thinking more along the lines of the chair."
And I pushed him down into it without another word--for a man his size,
Mulder toppled easily, and lightly. I knelt before him in an instant,
wrestling his pants open quickly while he looked on in sweet surprise. Once I
had him free, I paused only for a second before allowing us both the pleasure
of a kiss...
But when Mulder's hips jumped and his hands tangled delicately in my hair, I
smiled and rose, stripping quickly before settling in his lap.
"Scully," he murmured dangerously low as I slid slickly onto him with a sigh.
"I didn't chase you for so long to get a quick moment in a chair..."
I murmured agreement in the back of my throat, sighing as a near forgotten
pleasure shimmered through me. "I was hoping it'd be a long moment I agreed
huskily, then listened to his choked laughter...
Later, much later, we had cleaned off and redressed with a minimum of speech
and a maximum of tender, glancing touches. I sat on the desk again, and
Mulder came to stand between my legs, hands looped behind my back and
forehead resting on mine again, light and cool. But a few minutes of that
kind of touch was enough--somehow even more intimate than sex, it was
something to be treasured and not something we could indulge in for a long
time. So Mulder stepped back with a smile and cleared his throat.
"So, Scully...I'm glad that I can't imagine life without you."
"I'm glad too, Mulder. I'm glad I don't have to."
Our eyes met for another long moment, but then he nodded with an abrupt,
jerky movement, and sat back in his chair with a sigh and hands linked behind
his head. And he grinned, devilish and young in the dim light.
"Hey, Scully--do you think I could have claimed the chair if we had broken
it?"
I didn't even have to think before dumping the huge file still perched behind
me on his head, and grinned as he laughingly swatted away at the mass of
forms.
"So--that's a no?"
I sniffed haughtily and nodded, then settled into my customary chair.
"Definitely a no. But if we break the *desk*..."
END
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This story is the instinctive knee-jerk reaction my mind had to the other
story I wrote today, which was grim for a good long time but then lightened
up too fast...I was still in a light mood when I finished ;) Hope you enjoyed
it!
And now--I am off to enjoy Austin Powers again today--a movie to make you
want a perfect 1/8 size clone to name Minime ;)
Oh yeah--and here's the author's Eternal Plea for feedback--
I am eternally pleading for feedback ;)
Dreamshaper
dreamshpr@aol.com
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