Disclaimer: They belong to Chris Carter, 1013, Fox, and the
disgustingly talented actors who portray them, not me.

Thanks: To my beta, Carol - this story wouldn't be what it is
without her.

Author's notes: This is the second of what is to be a series of
vignettes that explore the complicated progress of a physical
relationship between Mulder and Scully. The goal is this: though each
will have a little something to do with the previous, they will be
near-standalones and can be read independently of each other if you so
choose. So is this a WIP? That's your call; I'm making no promises.
<g> But I'm hoping that posting in such a fashion will help motivate
me to get each part written in a timely manner as I'm the slowest
writer on the planet.

There has been much debate regarding the timeline of events we saw in
the 'Per Manum' flashbacks. For the purposes of this series, I'm
placing them approximately one month before those of 'all things'.

More notes upon final completion.

* * *

"Mulder?"

Despite the jetlag, he opened his eyes immediately at the sound of her
voice, drifting in from where he left her on the couch. Her voice
sounded thick with sleep and carried a hint of alarm.

"In here, Scully," he called, turning his body to lie on his side.

She appeared in the doorway, still fully dressed save for her shoes,
and leaned against she door jamb, one hand coming up to smooth over her
hair. The combination of soft moonlight from his bedroom and faint
fluorescent from his fish tank created a gentle aura around her and he
couldn't help but smile.

"I forgot where I was," she said with a chuckle.

He returned her amusement with a small laugh and allowed himself to
watch her for a few moments, the level of his scrutiny hidden in the
shadowed darkness of the room. She'd filled his dreams anymore, the
intensity of her presence in his psyche greater than ever since their
one night together over a month before. She'd asked for time and he
gave it, willingly and without objection, but he hadn't realized how
difficult it was going to be to wait for her now that he knew what it
was like to have her in his bed. His dreams had been filled with the
memory of being pressed naked against her flesh, of being inside her,
finally, making her come. It took everything he had in him, but he
approached it like he did anything else: passionate and determined. It
was his subconscious that reneged on the deal and filled his waking
hours with thoughts of her.

"I guess I should get home," she said, but made effort to move. She was
watching him as well. He studied her face in the dim moonlight, letting
her words hang in the air.

He held out his hand and after a slight hesitation, she moved to the
bed, taking his hand as she sat down next to him. He interlaced their
fingers and brought their hands down to rest atop his thigh. He tried
to ignore how close her hip was to his groin.

"Busy weekend," he offered.

"Busy weekend," she agreed with a nod.

He could feel the nervous energy radiate from her small form. Something
had shifted within her as a result of seeing Daniel Waterston again, of
being in his presence, of being thrown back into a dynamic she'd long
since left behind. She hadn't recounted each and every detail of her
time with him, hadn't told him how close she'd been to accepting the
offer of her ex-lover. But earlier, sitting in the comfort of Mulder's
living room, and now, in the quiet and safety of his bedroom, it was
beyond her comprehension how she could've ever even considered
anything over all she already had.

"Mulder..." she said, his name almost a whisper.

He tightened his grip on her hand for a moment before releasing it and
sliding his hand up beneath the hem of her sleeve and around her wrist,
his touch light as he moved even further up her arm in a caress. His
heart threatened to beat from his chest.

"Stay," he said softly.

She leaned down, using her right hand to brace her body above him,
until her face was inches from his. She could feel his quickening
against her cheek and a tingle of fear filled her. She closed the
distance swiftly, stifling the fear before it grew, and devoured his
mouth in a hungry kiss. He responded eagerly, his tongue hot and
probing as he fought to return her fervor.

She pulled away suddenly, quickly standing, and he began to panic, his
brain already preparing the words he hoped would convince her to stop
her retreat. Relief washed over him and his lips curved into a smile
when he saw what she intended, however, when he watched as she
shed her blazer and laid it on the foot of his bed. She pulled her top off
and unzipped her skirt, allowing it to slide down her hips into a pool at
her feet. As she leaned over to quickly strip off her pantyhose, he
reached under the covers and slid his boxers from his body, kicking
them to the floor behind him as he scooted back to make room for her.
She made quick work of the simple cotton bra and panties and, almost
shyly, slipped into the bed next to him. He couldn't help the
shuddering breath that escaped him when her body finally pressed
against him.

They were a tangle of limbs, lips, and tongues instantly as they fell
into each other's embrace. She grabbed handfuls of his flesh as he
settled above her, his rapidly growing erection nestled against her
belly. The plaintive desperation that had been the foundation of their
last encounter was gone, but the urgency was still pressing, the
novelty still fresh, and it was all he could do not to pound himself
into her again. She cradled him between her thighs and moved her hips
against him, languid, building herself up. He moved a hand to cover her
breast, squeezing it lightly, then went further until he found the heat
between her legs. Her body was ready for him as his fingers entered
her, testing and teasing before withdrawing to take his cock in his
hand. He pressed against her, slipping easily inside, and they groaned
in unison as he buried himself deep. Now propped on his elbows, he
began to thrust. His head felt heavy and he let it fall, burying his
face in the crook of her shoulder. Her legs wrapped around his waist,
her arms around his neck, and she held him against her with all her
strength and he moved above her. He felt dizzy with sensation and felt
the heat radiate from her body and wash over every part of his being.

She arched her back and gasped into his hair as release washed over
her, her arms tightening around his neck in a fierce grip. Her inner
muscles throbbed around him, hastening the advent of his own climax,
his mouth open in a moan against the sweat-slickened curve of her neck.
He fell limp on top of her for a few long moments before rolling to his
side, but her hands quickly moved to hold him in place. His head fell
to rest in the valley of her breasts and he could feel the beat of her
heart against his face, could feel her chest rise and fall as she
regained her breath. She held his head, one hand combing through his
hair while the other settled against his neck, gently stroking the skin
there. Her warmth and scent surrounded him and he couldn't remember
a time he felt more content.

He wanted to talk to her, wanted her to talk to him. He wanted to tell
her how happy he was, wanted to move his head and kiss her gently,
show her how much he cared. But the hour, the jetlag, the exertion, it
all caught up with him and before he knew it, he drifted into deep,
satisfied sleep.

* * *

He'd hoped, but hadn't expected, her to be there when he woke up and
was disappointed to find her gone. If it weren't for the unmistakable
smell of sex still lingering in the air and on his sheets, he may have
thought it was all a dream. He showered and dressed quickly and
efficiently, his eyes lingering on his rumpled bed and the dent in her
pillow as he walked out of his bedroom.

He'd never been so nervous to see her, never been so uncertain about
what to expect. He didn't know if he could handle it if she wanted to
ignore what had happened. He felt his anger at the mere thought. Their
paths had led them to each other time and time again and he could see
in her eyes, feel in her touch, that this was the right one, the only
one. He had to hope that together they'd let that certainty overcome
the fear, even in the harsh light of day.

She'd beaten him to the office. He stood in the doorway, holding two
cups of coffee, silently observing her. Her knees were bent slightly as
she stood in front of the computer, one hand clicking the mouse while
one the other held the telephone to her ear. Her tone and body language
said 'business as usual'. He took a deep breath and stepped
forward.

"Yes, sir," she was saying as she glimpsed up at him. "Yes, he just got
in. We'll be right up."

"Time for coffee?" he asked, setting the cups down on the table as she
hung up the phone.

"No, he wants us up there now," she said, stacking a few stray files
that littered the desk.

She wouldn't meet his eyes. His heart sank.

"Skinner?"

"Kersh."

"Well, we better get going, then."

She nodded and moved from behind the desk towards the door. He
matched her step and out of habit, placed his hand on the small of her
back as he followed her into the hallway. She stiffened slightly at the
contact and he was about to pull away when he felt her stop and lean
into his touch, slowly, deliberately.

She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. Her eyes were
bright and her cheeks held a flush that suited her well. She was
breathtaking.

"Thanks for the coffee," she smiled.

"You're welcome," he said, returning the smile.

"C'mon, Mulder," she said, regaining her posture, pacing ahead of him.
"You know full well patience is a virtue A.D. Kersh doesn't possess."

And with that the moment was broken. His doubts were forgotten and his
heart soared.