No Place To Hide By TBishop27@aol.com Rated: R (Language and sexual situations) Category: Scully Angst/UST to MSR Feedback: It keeps me going. As always, flames will be forwarded to that dark part of my writer's imagination that roams the night in search of victims. Archive: Yes. Just drop me a note to tell me where. Disclaimer: This is my Mulder and Scully. Chris doesn't play with his like this. Summary: Things are getting a little too hot for Agent Scully to handle. Author's Note: This is a revised addition. NO PLACE TO HIDE I'm sitting in a bar in the middle of a workday afternoon numbing myself with Jack Daniel's, when I should be back at the office helping Mulder research our latest case. I left that basement office three and a half hours ago without so much as a word to him. Just up and left. I couldn't stand it anymore, I had to get away from him. Mulder doesn't know what he does to me. I believe that. If I didn't...if I thought he actually knew and was somehow enjoying my suffering, I'd shoot him again in a place that would hurt him a hell of a lot more than his shoulder. I just wish I could get through a single day anymore without the struggle to hide my feelings for him being my primary goal. Of course, that's impossible. Mulder is constantly trying to tear down the walls I hide behind. He wants the closeness between us. He hates to be shut out. He likes to play and tease and push the envelope. He dances mercilessly on that line between just friends and lovers. Sometimes I think he's trying to invent a place for us somewhere in between. I wish... oh God, how I wish he would back off a little and give me some room to catch my breath. Oh, but that wouldn't be my Mulder. He's nothing if he isn't persistent. He knows I'm holding back something from him, but he isn't sure what it is. He thinks if he keeps up this relentless barrage of gentle touches, piercing stares, and assaults on my personal space, that I will finally crack and reveal my secret. He almost succeeded this morning. I'd had a long sleepless night, thanks to an embarrassingly erotic dream about my partner... which required a cold shower and a pint of Ben and Jerry's Mocha Heath Bar Crunch to freeze out of my system. Sleep after that was a lost cause. So I got dressed for work at 2 am and left my apartment, driving aimlessly around DC crying my eyes out. Just before dawn, I found myself in front of Mulder's place. I parked across the street and looked up at his window. Shifting blue hues from his television, the only light coming from within. I envisioned him asleep on his sofa, and had to rest my head against the steering wheel until the urge to go to him left me. I think I sat there an hour before I was finally able to lift my head and drive away. I went and got some coffee, and waited for it to be an acceptable hour to go in to the office. I was diligently studying crime scene reports by 7:45, and grateful for the opportunity to fully focus on my work for a change. Mulder showed up at 9:00... so much for undisturbed concentration. The game was on again. He announced his arrival with a cheery "Good morning, sunshine!" and dropped a white deli bag on the counter in front of me. "One whole wheat bagel with low fat cream cheese." And handed me a cup of coffee to go along with it. "One double shot nonfat latte." "Mulder, how sweet of you. Thank you." I smiled at him. "Anything for you, Scully." He smiled back at me. His eyes caught mine and held them for an uncomfortably long time before I was able to break the spell and look away. We'd been in the same room together for what, thirty seconds? My pulse was racing, my respiration had increased, and my damn hands were trembling. I told myself it was from lack of sleep and too much caffeine. There was once a time when I believed such lies. I'm not buying it anymore. I know what it is. I'm in love with him. I want him. I stopped denying it months ago. I knew about it years ago. He noticed me struggling for control. "Everything all right, Scully?" His concern was genuine and heartfelt. He put a warm gentle hand on my shoulder, and I felt it sear right through the thin silk fabric of my blouse. He squeezed, and I jump away from his touch, hopping off my stool and hurrying over to the file drawers to look for...something that would make him believe I actually had a reason to be suddenly digging through the L thru Q drawer of our closed cases filing cabinet. I could feel his stare boring into my back from across the room, and my cheeks grew hot. "Jeez, Scully, you're awfully jumpy today. Maybe I should have had them make that a decaf." He walked over and hung up his jacket, then started digging through his mail. I took advantage of his momentary distraction and returned empty handed to my stool. For the next two hours I pored over my work and tried to ignore Mulder's idle chit chat. I was actually having some success, when I heard him call my name in that low rumbly intense way that he does when he's preoccupied with his work and needs my input on something. I looked up, expecting to find him transfixed on his computer screen, or a file, or some book, but he wasn't. There was nothing occupying his attention but me. He'd been leaning back in his chair watching me work for God only knows how long. This is not out of the ordinary for Mulder. He watches people. He watches me a lot. But he usually doesn't call my attention to the fact that he's doing it. And I usually pretend that I don't notice him doing it. This time I really hadn't noticed, and he, for whatever reason, needed me to. So he said, "Scullee.." And I was unnerved by his unabashed gaze, but somehow I managed to speak coherently. "Mulder, why are you looking at me like that?" "How would you like me to look at you?" "I'd rather you didn't, Mulder. I'd rather you did your work." "Am I making you uncomfortable, Scully?" "Kind of." "Really?" He seemed surprised. "Well, Mulder, how would you feel if I stared at you all the time?" I hadn't meant to say 'all the time.' It just slipped out. "Flattered." "Well, I'm not. And you shouldn't be trying to flatter me anyway." "Then why do you do it?" "Do what?" "Go through all the trouble to look so damn hot, if you don't want anybody to look at you?" He thought I looked hot? I caught myself grinning and stopped immediately. "Would you please stop teasing me, Mulder." "I wasn't teasing. I really want to know." He got up out of his chair and started coming towards me, all the while those hazel eyes of his working their way up and down my body. He stood so close I could smell his cologne, and his freshly laundered shirt; and those damn pheromones of his were coming on strongest of all. "You wear such beautiful clothes, Scully." He was practically whispering in my ear. "You're hair always looks incredible, your makeup is always perfect." He leaned in close to my neck. I could feel his hot breath against my skin. He breathed in deeply. "Mmm...and you always smell so...so..Scully-like." At that point my eyes were closed, and it was all I could do not to reach back and pull his head down just a little closer so those delicious lips of his could feast on my neck. I then amazed myself with a feat of emotional strength I would have never guessed I had in me. I stood up, moved a few feet away from Mulder, and in my very best partners and pals voice I informed him, "I dress professionally and keep myself well groomed because it is what is required of me as an FBI agent. And also because it makes me feel good to look my best. You dress well and keep up appearances, Mulder. Are you telling me you only do it to get noticed?" "Touché, Scully," he conceded, but he didn't leave my corner of the room just yet. I was starting to feel like a caged animal. I know from experience that I need to take a walk when I begin to feel trapped liked that. If I don't, I start feeling threatened, and then I panic and go on the attack. I can be a real bitch when provoked. I can be something much scarier when I feel threatened. So, while he was looking over the crime scene reports that I had been trying desperately to review, I grabbed my purse and blazer and bolted for the door. In my flight, I opted for the stairs, for fear Mulder would come after me and catch me before the elevator arrived. I actually ran and didn't stop until I was safely behind the wheel of my car. And then I flew out of that parking garage like my life depended on it. That's how I ended up here. I was afraid to go home. That's the first place he'd look. And after driving around all night last night, I didn't want to spend any more time in the car. This is my secret hiding place. Yeah, I've been here a few times recently. It's dark. No one bothers me. And they make killer cheese fries. Another secret Mulder doesn't know about me, when I drink, I eat like a truck driver. I light up a cigarette and revel in the forbidden taste. Never let it be said Dana Scully doesn't know how to wallow in self pity with the best of them. What am I going to do? If things keep up the way they've been, I'm going to end up a frustrated, middle-aged, fat, chain-smoking, alcoholic. Isn't that a pretty thought? I've tried to date, really I have. They've all been unmitigated failures, some frighteningly worse than that. I know I'll never be happy with anyone but him. But he's my partner for Christ sake! I have to find a way to get over him. If I don't, what's my option...asking Skinner for a reassignment? God, I don't want that. Mulder and I are a fantastic team. We have one of the highest solve rates in the history of the Bureau. That says a lot when you consider we specialize in cases labeled as unsolvable. I'd be bored silly doing mainstream fieldwork. Mulder and I tried that once, not by choice. It was an exercise in endless tedium. And besides, how could I stand it without him? There's no simple answer here. And I'm too tired and too drunk to consider anything more complex. I may just be trapped in this hell for the rest of my life. Some time later, the bartender comes over to see me. His name is Joe. He's one of those tall good-looking Nordic types. Lots of thick blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a brilliant smile. His boyfriend is a really lucky guy. Joe sits down across the table from me. "Another bad day, Dana?" "He brought me breakfast." "The creep." His eyes really light up when he smiles. "He watches me, Joe. Just sits and watches me work, for hours sometimes. I try to ignore it. But today. Today he...he made it so obvious, I couldn't disregard it any longer. And he doesn't even have the decency to deny it. How am I supposed to deal with that? He watches me." "Yes, I can see that. He hasn't taken his eyes off you since he came in three hours ago." "What?" Joe gestures with his head towards a figure sitting in the shadows at the far end of the bar. Oh God. I can feel the heat rising up in my face. He's there... watching. How did he slip past me unnoticed? How come I've been sitting in the same damn room with him for hours, completely oblivious to his presence? I guess Special Agent Dana Scully has been a little preoccupied. What am I going to do now that he knows I see him? "Dana, why are you fighting it? He's gorgeous. And he's apparently taken with you. Why sit here and be miserable about it?" Why indeed? I tear my eyes away from Mulder to stare at the tabletop. "He's my partner, Joe. I've told you that." "Well, Dana, your partner is on his way over, so I think I'm going to get out of here. Can I get you another drink?" "Bring the bottle." He slips out of the booth with a chuckle. "Take it slow," he says to Mulder as he passes him. "What? Seven years isn't slow enough?" I hear my partner respond as he takes the place Joe just vacated. I'm not sure, but I think maybe he said that to me. "Mulder, what are you doing here? And how did you manage to find me?" My head is buzzing from too much drink. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a matchbook with 'The Hideout' printed on it. "Found these back at the office. I took a chance." 'Spooky' doesn't begin to describe Fox Mulder. "Okay, you've proven you're a real G-man." I finish off the last of my drink. "Now the question is 'why,' Mulder? Why are you here?" He looks intently, as only he can, and I fear what will come next. "I was worried, Scully. After last night...and the way you acted at work this morning. What's going on with you? I hardly expect to find Dana Scully in a bar in the middle of a work day, getting blasted on JD and chain smoking like Cancerman. I won't even hazard a guess at the cheese fries, Miss Tofutti-Rice-Dreamsicle-Bee-Pollen-and-Yogurt-I'll-Just-Have-the- Salad." "What do you mean after last night?" "I saw you parked outside my apartment. Why didn't you come up?" My hand starts to tremble as I attempt to light another cigarette. Mulder takes it from me, and takes the pack off the table too. He shakes his head. "Scully, you're a doctor. You know better. Take it from a former two pack a day man, don't get hooked. Besides, it'll ruin your beautiful skin." He reaches out and caresses my cheek. God, I love it when he touches me like that. My eyes close automatically. The combination of the alcohol, too much nicotine, and Mulder's skin against mine, causes me to become positively light headed. I feel myself start to sway and my eyes pop open in panic. His hand slips from my face to my shoulder to hold me steady. "Scully? Are you all right?" "Got a little dizzy." I take a deep breath. Whoa! The room doesn't seem to want to stop moving. Lovely, Dana, you're plastered. Mulder has left his seat and is beside me. "Come on, Scully. I'm taking you home. You've had enough." He signals for Joe, and quickly settles up the tab. The two men have a conversation I cannot hear, but it ends with laughter and both of them looking at me. When Mulder returns to the booth, I fix him with what I hope is an angry glare. "You were laughing at me!" "Only a little, Scully." He helps me out of the booth. "Oops!" I start to laugh at myself as my legs collapse under me. Mulder holds me up like a rag doll. I end up hugging him around his middle and looking up at his grinning face. God, I want him. "I'm glad you're enjoying this now, because you won't be in a little while." "Let's go, Mulder." He's sooo cute. Take me home, Mulder. Home. Yes, I want him to take me home. Oops! Gotta be careful. Almost fell again. Straighten up and fly right, Dana. Foxy's going to take you home now. Good thing he doesn't know why I'm smiling. He'd be mad if he heard me call him Foxy. Poor thing, now he doesn't know why I'm giggling. Nope, nope, nope. Doesn't have a clue. Hey, it's not even dark yet out here. Can't believe I'm this bombed and it's only...God damn, this watch is hard to see. "Mulder, I can't see what time it is." "Six thirty-two. Come on, Scully, keep moving. My car's not much further." XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX I think I passed out on the ride home. The last thing I remember was Mulder helping me into the car and buckling me up. Now we're parked in front of my apartment, and Mulder is trying to get me out of the car. Oooh God! I feel awful. I don't want to move. I really don't want to move. "Scully, come on. Time to get out." "No, Mulder...I don't think so. I need to rest a minute." "You okay? You don't look like you're feeling too good, Agent Scully." Oh God! Not good. No, no, no. I'm not going to get sick. I just need some air. Yeah. Some air will help. Oh God, I feel bad. Really bad. I think...oh...please no...God! "Mulder! I'm gonna be sick!" "Come on, Scully. Get out of my car first." "Oh..." ....I hate this. I just puked on the street in front of my apartment with Mulder watching me. Damn it. God, my stomach hurts. "It's all right, Scully. Let's get you inside." "Oh...Mulder, I don't want to move." Please stop. No more. I'm too dizzy for this. "I know." "God, it hurts!" I hate Jack Daniel’s. Never touch the stuff again. And no more cheese fries. Oh, shhhh...don't think about that. Don't think about food. No food, Dana. "I know that too." "I haven't been this sick from drinking since I was in college. God, I'm an idiot. What was I thinking? Oh...I can't talk anymore, Mulder. I'm too sick." "Don't talk then, Scully. Here we go. Home sweet home. Come on. Bedroom's this way. Let's get you out of those clothes." He's got to be kidding. "Mulder..." "Shh. Don't talk. Jacket off. That a girl. Where do you keep your jammies, Scully?" I can't believe I'm letting him do this. What difference does it make? I'm going to die soon anyway. If I'm lucky, that is. "Second drawer from the top." Great. Now my partner's rooting around in my lingerie drawer. "How about this one?" What's fair is fair. If he gets to see me with my shirt off, then I get to see the same of him. "I got a better idea. How 'bout you let me wear your shirt?" Yeah, I'm a cheap drunk. At least he's smiling. "Scully, you know what I like," he says as he slips off his tie. Then he tugs his shirttails out of his slacks and carefully unbuttons his shirt. Oh yeah... ...oh no. Bathroom! Hurry! Oh... XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Oh merciful God in heaven, what have I done to myself? My head is killing me and I haven't even opened my eyes yet. My mouth feels like I've been eating chalk. Ooooh. Is it possible to think too loud, I wonder? It's dark, that is the first thing I notice after I finally persuade myself to hazard a peak at my surroundings. Second thing I notice, and greatly appreciate, is the fact that I recognize my bedroom. So, somehow I made it home. What time is it, I wonder? Dare I risk motion yet? Very slowly I turn to look at my alarm clock on the night stand. Two thirty! Good grief. Uh oh. Was that a foot I just felt? Oh shit! I'm not alone. I don't remember, and I'm too afraid to look. I have never, EVER, done anything like this in my life! I move my leg away from the unknown foot. "Shit," I murmur, as I slide myself up slowly to rest against the headboard. My companion is burrowed under the covers, only a mop of dark hair peaking out. I look down and notice myself. At first, I am relieved to at least be wearing *something*, until I realize what it is I'm wearing. Obviously, my mystery man's dress shirt. Smells incredible. Emporio Armani...Oh. My. God. Mulder! Carefully as I can, I pull back the covers from his face. Hoo boy! How in the hell did this happen? I can't remember a blessed thing from last night. Nothing. Zippo. Figures. I've wanted him for ever; and when we finally do it, I can't remember what it was like! Oh God! I slept with Mulder! My partner! I got drunk and did the wild thing with Mulder. Drunk, Dana, drunk! Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. "Jesus Christ." I bury my face in my hands. I deserve this splitting headache. "Scully?" He wakes and props himself up onto one elbow, blinking slowly at me. "You feeling okay?" "Uh huh," I squeak, peeking out at him between my fingers. He smiles at me. God! I don't know what to say. But it's plain he's expecting me to say something. Okay. Hands down. Smile at him. "Ah...Mulder, you were ... incredible." I'm nodding like an idiot. I am so sorry I don't remember, Mulder. I'm sure it was incredible though. How could it have been anything else? This is the man that makes me melt inside just by saying my name. Of course it was incredible. And I will never know. His smile gets even bigger. "I was?" I'm still nodding. "Incredible, huh?" He's nodding too now. "Really," I lie. Although, I'm sure it's not a lie. "So that whole domination thing, and the bit with the whip, wasn't too far over the edge for you? I'm surprised Scully, because most women are a little scared of that sort of thing. I had no idea you were into S and M." My mouth is hanging wide open. Oh God! I can't believe I would forget something like that. I can't believe I would *do* something like that. Mulder leans over close to my shoulder and gives me his best leer. "Scully?" he whispers seductively, his dark eyes staring into mine. I shiver. He leans in closer. His lips brushing against my ear. When he speaks again, his hot breath tickles my skin. "Nothing happened." He pulls back grinning like the Cheshire cat. I'm glad for the darkness of my room as I can feel the blush rising in my cheeks. He is SO dead! Without another thought, I shove him back flat on the bed and pounce on top of him, determined to get revenge. "You son of a bitch, Mulder!" He is laughing now, which makes me even angrier. I give him a good hard smack on the arm. "Oww!" he complains through his chuckles. "You happen to be assaulting a Federal Agent, Miss Scully! You can get in a lot of trouble for that, you know." "Not half as much trouble as you're in, Mr. Mulder." I get a good shot in to his other arm. "Okay, okay! Sorry, Scully." He grabs both my wrists so I can't inflict any more pain. And suddenly, even though my head is splitting, I become aware of several things at once and I am paralyzed. First, Mulder is only wearing boxers. Two, I'm not wearing any underwear. And C, my partner is very prominently aroused. And finally, fourth, four, or D, I'm sitting right on top of his most damning evidence. I feel a rush of heat to my core, and I know if I don't move away quickly he's going to have evidence to gather against me as well. But I can't seem to move. Our eyes are locked. His grip tightens on my wrists. His expression is intensely serious. I can feel him twitch under me. Oh God! "Seven years, Scully," he says in a voice that betrays his need more than the erection pressing into me. "I've been a very patient man." What can I do? I have no place to hide... ~END~ Life is too short to drink bad wine.