"Enamorado Con Mi Socio", by C. Chaffin (1/1), Epilogue to "One-Upmanship"TITLE: "Enamorado Con Mi Socio" AUTHOR: Char Chaffin RATING: R CATEGORY: MSR, Epilogue to "One-Upmanship" DISCLAIMER: Almost done with them... but I'd bet it'll take CC weeks of standard eps to wipe the smiles off their faces... SUMMARY: Translation is (roughly) "In Love With My Partner" - a fitting conclusion, I would say, to what T Bishop and I put them through in "One-Upmanship"! AUTHORS' NOTES (Concerning the entire story): Found at the end of this epilogue "Enamorado Con Mi Socio" "Morning, Sunshine..." I watch her stir as the watery sunlight filters in through the slatted blinds of our hotel room. Watch as my softly-murmured words register in her sleepy ears, and she stretches under the thick bedspread. I can feel her toes curling against my shins, the smallness of her feet swallowed up in the space I created for them, just inside of my calves. Sometime in the night, she wound her fingers through mine, and we must have slept holding hands. My fingers are cramped up a little, but I would rather have cut them off than disturb her, so I just let myself fall asleep that way. I actually slept so much better knowing we were linked in just that fashion - perhaps I should remember that, next time I suffer from insomnia. Ah, eyes flickering; here comes the blue of them, slitting open a fraction at a time, pupils still dilated from her slumber. Lashes a little sticky, whether from the Sandman or tears, it's hard to tell. Certainly we both did some crying last night... Now a yawn, accompanied by a tinge of Scullymorningbreath - doesn't bother me, never did. Scully's worst breath is still the sweetest odor to me, mostly because I love her but also because it means she lives - she is alive and well, and in my arms, and for that wondrous gift I could withstand rhino breath - I really could. I hold her hand and watch her eyes gain awareness, and see the smile breaking behind the sheer blue of them - and think to myself that there's nothing quite so pretty in my world, as watching Dana Scully awaken in the morning. I must be staring at her very hard, because I get one quirked eyebrow and the beginnings of a smile, before she grimaces and clutches at her head with her free hand. "Mulder, déjà vu... not more tequila! Please tell me we didn't drain the tequila again - ooh, my head!" She tries to rub at her brow, and I gently push her hand aside and massage her temples with my fingers, while she rests against the pillows and sighs with relief. I can feel her playing with the hair on my chest as I ease her headache, and although her touch is affecting me like mad, I won't act upon it - not until I rid her of the throb in her head. Then, she can repay me by ridding me of a certain head-throb... "Not tequila, baby - don't you remember? This time it was Mescale - I nabbed it from the cupboard above your sink..." Her look of absolute horror is not lost on me, and I fight to keep the chuckle inside, for I know just what her next question's gonna be. She doesn't disappoint me. "The sink... oh no. Green label? Shit - that bottle Charlie sent me... please, Mulder, tell me we didn't drink it! God, it had a worm in it - an honest-to-goodness worm! Mulder, please..." She's in my arms now, begging me... this is too sweet, but I have to tell her the truth. Well, I don't have to... but I want to. I know, I'm rotten to the core. May God strike me dead - but after I tell her, please. "No worm, Scully - not anymore." Her eyes cannot possibly get any bigger than they seem right now, as she digests the meaning behind the words I speak. I am fighting a losing battle to keep a straight face; and as her mouth opens and closes several times, giving her the appearance of an adorable red-haired fish, I lose it and guffaw loudly into the pillows. In between gasps for air, I let her have it. "Actually, we went halfsies on it, Scully - and I'm not sure which end you got, the head or the tail. It's a little fuzzy to me, in retrospect, because we were both so fully blitzed - but I distinctly remember you begging me to let you have the worm, because you needed to get the taste of 'that inhuman slime' out of your mouth, as you so delicately phrased it - and I refused to let you eat the whole thing by yourself..." At the mention of our latest adversary, Scully pales and begins to tremble, pinning me with those wide eyes as she whispers, more to herself than to me. "Oh Jesus, him... for one brief moment I thought I'd dreamt the whole ordeal... but I didn't, did I? Guess I thought I was waking up on a normal, happy morning." Her little face crumples and she buries it in my shoulder, her emotions still running on overdrive. A by-product of yesterday; I know this - I went through it hours ago, and at the time, messed-over as I found myself - I was amazed by her utter calmness, her inner strength. Should have known there would be aftershocks for her. There always are - delayed reaction and all that. Which is why she hit the sauce (and the poor worm) so hard last night. I hold her very close, and let her get it all worked out. She's bathing me in tears; honestly I think the two of us have cried enough in the past few months, over one thing or another, to last a frigging lifetime. I stroke her damp hair back from her flushed cheeks, and kiss each one tenderly, before I curve a hand right over her heart and breathe all my reassurances into her ear. "This IS a normal, happy morning for us, baby - think about it. He's gone, out of our lives, permanently, thanks to your courage and quick thinking. Soon we'll be in a new apartment, one shared equally by both of us; new bed too, I promise you... and we have Skinner's blessing, AND his support concerning the X-files. Your mother is even happy about it - remember you called her last night and told her, before you got really snockered and ate the head off that worm..." Her gagging, mixed in with teary, reluctant giggles, is by far one of the sweetest sounds I have heard yet this morning - that and the hiss of indrawn breath she shivers over my ear as I cup a soft breast and toy gently with the nipple. She presses her body into my hand, encouraging me - not that I need any encouragement, where loving Scully is concerned. That has sure never been a problem - but making her forget everything that happened yesterday has become my mission for today... and it's a mission to which I plan on dedicating myself, with a vengeance. I continue to rub at her nipple, as I whisper to her how amazing she is, how lucky I am to have her by my side - and she curls herself close and soaks it all in like a sponge. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX I swear, this man says the sweetest things to me - knows just how to make me feel better. With his arms around me and his low, rough-silk voice in my ear I could endure anything. Our relationship has come a long way from the early days when innuendo flew between us like a flag in the hurricane - when my stoic acceptance of his teasing always put a damper on the fun. Mulder has loosened me up so much. God, what an uptight little priss I must have been! I asked him, one short month ago when we first became intimate - why he was able to put up with my shit for so long, so many years. In his bed, satiated with lovemaking; snuggled down into the pillows and pleasantly sore, I was brave enough to ask. He looked at me as if I had lost my marbles, thinking perhaps I was pulling his leg. When it became apparent that I was serious, he caught me close, and twined his long limbs all around me, creating a wonderful MulderCoccoon, and his impassioned words in my ear just about did me in. "Are you kidding, Scully? Just what horrible things do you believe I had to endure, having you by my side, hmmm? Having to listen to your voice - oh, that was agony, to be sure - that soft, determined tone of yours, reasonable, logical and so damn sexy it makes me ache? Yeah, I hated that about you." He grinned at me and pulled me tighter. "How about the face? Stuck with looking at it, day in and day out. Stripped of makeup, with freckles and that little mole of yours peeking out at me - those cheekbones... that mouth. Your eyes... yuck, Scully! You got some nerve. How could you dare to inflict upon me something so breathtakingly perfect as that? You are indeed evil..." I rolled my eyes at him, beginning to flush bright red; he licked the heat from my face and his mouth lingered at the corner of mine, as he continued to dissect me. "Let's see... the body. Having this body in the way for seven years... true torture, better believe it. Seeing it everyday, clothed in those tight little G-woman suits and little shirts... able to only dare to hope that I may be permitted to touch more than that enticing spot on your lower back. Those curvy legs of yours, swaying in front of me, wearing those five-inch 'fuck-me' heels - The Spanish Inquisition's got nothing on you, baby. Seven years of your body, Scully - enough to drive a sane man to drink tequila, lots of tequila." He leered at me and slipped large, warm palms over my shoulders, down each arm and over my tense abdomen heading straight for my silky boxer shorts, which he twitched aside and replaced with one tender finger. I jumped and moaned against him, as he stroked me lovingly with his finger and his next words. "Yeah, it's been hellish, Agent Scully - hellish to the max. Some days I barely survived it... but you know what? I wouldn't trade a day, not one day - of having to find a way to be your partner and friend when all I wanted to do was climb up into your body, so far inside that I could actually see out of your eyes, and look into my own heart for all the reasons why I stayed with you. All the reasons why I had myself convinced there could never be anything between us - scared I'd lose you if we got involved, but needing you so badly I would take you in any format I could get you." By now I was crying huge hot tears, at the beautiful words he poured on me; I had asked him why - and the answer I got far exceeded any I could have discovered for myself. It's odd - for so long, the logical question for anyone to ask had always been, "Agent Scully, how on earth do you put up with old 'Spooky' Mulder?" Nobody ever thought to ask how the man put up with me, though. And now I knew... I knew. I kissed his gorgeous face and swallowed his mouth and his groans, forced out when my arms and legs wrapped around him and tightened like a vise. We fell back on the fat pillows of his bed, and as he slid my boxers off and then slid his heat into me, I let myself deserve him, let my heart have Mulder without guilt, shame and with much humility. It was a pivotal moment in our relationship... Now I press my ear to his beating heart, so happy to know it beats for only me. It could have lost its beat yesterday - if my timing had been the least off... if Mulder and Skinner had arrived at that animal's apartment even ten minutes sooner. I have held Mulder's life in my hands a few times in seven years, and have found it the singular most frightening moment of my life. To feel that strong beat lessen and dim; pumping erratically slower and slower, until it fades away into nothing... God, I would be dead myself, for my heart would stop right alongside his. I press my ear hard, there against his chest, and feel him winding his fingers through my hair to keep my head in place. Strong, steady, if a little rapid - I smile, knowing I am the cause of the quickened beat, and loving the rush of power I feel at the knowledge of what I do to this amazing man. I slip a hand down over his skin, and cup him gently, hearing him groan into my hair and adjust himself so that he can press closer to me. Closer... inside me, inside my skin and aimed straight for my own wildly beating heart. Last night I got drunk on a bottle of yellow liquid that contained a pale gray worm floating belly-up; drained the bottle and ate the head off the little sucker and re-affirmed several times the absolute love and endless trust I have in Fox Mulder. I took him into my body and saturated myself with everything that is good and pure about my partner; the affirmation and blessing of two very important people in our lives, hanging in my still-unbelieving ears - remembering our boss's reaction with particular amazement... "Don't think I was surprised, Agent Scully. At least not about the two of you being involved." He knew. Well, he's a very astute man - he doesn't miss much. Of course he'd know... "You knew?" I just had to quantify it. He stared at me as if I had suddenly become the stupid one. "Jesus! Do you think I'm stupid? I knew, almost a month ago, right after you made, um, such creative use of my office desk..." It was a very good thing that Mulder was holding me up, or should I say a good thing we were holding up each other - for that gruff statement was just about our undoing. We gaped worse than twin trout, at our smirking boss. His snort of laughter didn't help matters. Behind me I could feel Mulder's lanky frame as it wrapped me in a loose embrace, his warmth a comfort against me. Skinner took it all in; proof undeniable that we were a real couple; his lips curved up into a small half-smile, and I swear I could see a hint of softening in his eyes, hidden by those steel frames. He held up one large hand, when I opened my mouth and prepared to elaborate. Odd, but suddenly I felt the need to spill my guts... and though I finally sensed our boss was approving of our relationship, it didn't stop him from scaring the shit out of us. "... I hate the thought of splitting you two up..." I panicked, right there in Mulder's arms; I teared up and panicked and begged him not to break us up. Looking back, I see how pathetic and desperate I sounded. And normally I despise that sort of weakness in myself. But for Mulder... well, for him I would subjugate myself in the most base manner, if it meant I could remain his partner in all things. But yesterday my emotions were so very fragile - rather like now. And I find myself flaming in the cheek area, six shades of red; as I remember standing in that hideous room surrounded by my erotic image, frantically trying to get myself under control while Mulder rocked me and crooned to me that everything was going to be fine. God, how mortifying! XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX She's remembering - I can feel the heat in her face as it presses close to mine on the pillow. Poor baby; it was not the most comfortable moment in Scully's life, to be surrounded by graphic porn-shots of herself, while her boss and her boyfriend tried desperately to focus their attention anywhere but at those Scullyskin-plastered walls. My face was flaming; Skinner's was as well; he cleared his throat several times before finally attempting to speak. And after he spent several moments putting the fear of death into us, he lightened up considerably (well, for Walter Skinner, it was considerable) and wished us well - "...I'm happy for you. Quite frankly, I was beginning to worry that you two would never get it together. It's nice to see that you finally woke up to the obvious. I don't have a problem with the relationship, Agents. Just behave yourselves... Is that clear?..." Well, of course we promised to behave. What else could we say, with all six-feet-and-then-some of AD Skinner bearing down on us, in a room full of FBI-agent erotica? We nodded mutely, and promised to be good. And we'll keep that promise... at least when we're in the Hoover building, or out on a case somewhere in the field. We'll be good - we'll be professional. We'll be so goddamn professional you'd think we could be the poster boy and girl for Feds Anonymous. But after work, or the case du jour; whether we are in our apartment or in a motel somewhere... well, that's a different story. That's when we'll shut the door, and triple-lock it (or in a motel, prop a chair up under the doorknob); when I'll run a hot bath, and gently strip the G-woman suit from Agent Scully's day-weary body, instantly changing her from their agent, into my baby... when I'll pick her up and carry her into the heated bath, all steamy with silky water and whatever bath salts I can find; tenderly wash every beautiful inch of her, and then just as tenderly dry her off - with my tongue. If I've been a good boy (and I'm ALWAYS a good boy), she'll let me brush her hair, one hundred strokes through the satin of it. If I've been an extremely good boy (and that one's in the bag as well)... she'll let me stroke her other hair a hundred times as well - with (you guessed it) my tongue. There's more, but it's very private, and best whispered into a small pink ear - such as I'm doing right now. Whispering it into Scully's little ear, while I wait for her to stop burying her face in the pillow next to me; whispering of my love, and my pride - in all that she is to me and all that she has done and will continue to do for me. For me - just because she loves me. All the more precious, because I almost lost her yesterday; my very reason for existing, so close to becoming the victim of a psychopathic animal who, I'd wager, is still curled in a fetal position in a locked cell somewhere clutching his aching balls. At least I can smile at that singularly satisfying thought. So I whisper to Dana Scully, and I slip my hands over her warm skin and follow the elegant line of her back with my lips; I hear a low humming purr emanate from deep within her throat as I clue her in on the sequence of morning events which will serve to start our day. I know our game of One-upmanship has about run its course; I think we're going to call it a draw. Obviously we both won; there couldn't have been any losers in a game such as this. Doesn't mean I'll ever stop trying to out-do myself in the category of 'Pleasing my Partner'. I like that game too much to just quit cold-turkey. I don't mind having that sort of addiction known; hell, I'm rather proud of it. So proud, in fact, that I feel the need to indulge; it's still early in the day and Scully has finally raised her head and begun kissing me back. Where she chooses to kiss me is what makes the game such a trip to play... I would highly recommend it. Very highly... God, yes. End Author's Notes: T Bishop - Thanks to my partner in crime, smut-sis, and good friend Char for coming up with the wonderful idea for this story. She is truly brilliant and so much fun to work with. We have established quite a bond through our recent collaborations, and I look forward to our future endeavors together. I am honored to write with her. You can find all my stories archived at The Literary G-Spot http://members.xoom.com/arcticfox42/Tbishop.htm or try The Literary G-Spot Mirror http://tbishop.freeservers.com Char - As always, writing with T Bishop has been an incredible experience. She thinks like me (God help her!) and her sense of humor and theories about the X-Files and X-life in general have kept me straight in more ways than one, when struggling with characterization. She is such a talented writer and does a fabulous Scully - one of the best, I think - and playing Mulder to her Scully is just plain GOOD. Three under our respective belts, T - can't wait to start number four! All of my X-fic can be found at Believe the Truth http://char.chaffin.com ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Char Chaffin