SUMMARY: Scully's very unusual Valentine's Day.
The desk drawer slammed with enough force to send a tremor across the floor, up the metal rungs of his chair and into his ass. He lifted his shoes from the top of his blotter, tipped his chair forward and stared at his partner. There was a crease between her eyes that usually bode danger.
"Something wrong?" he asked cautiously.
"No," she snapped, pushing a stack of files to one side with enough force to cause several to carom to the floor. She ignored them.
He searched his memory for transgressions -- his case reports were up to date, he hadn't left sunflower seeds or shells on her side of the car, and he hadn't insulted her scientific opinions, religious beliefs or adherence to protocol in -- at least a day.
He sat in silence, contemplating her hunched shoulders as she pounded her keyboard relentlessly. It was something all right. As his gaze wandered aimlessly around the office, he spied a small red symbol on the wall calendar. He passed over it, then looked back and stared at it. Shook his head. *Nah -- couldn't be. Not Scully*
Mulder cleared his throat. "Doing anything special tonight?"
"No," she answered quietly. She didn't look at him. She tried to ignore her disappointment. *It's not like it really means anything, for heaven's sake. It's just another excuse for commercial exploitation. So -- she forgot. It doesn't mean she doesn't love me*
A tiny sliver of uncertainty pricked at her consciousness. She had been out of town a lot lately, traipsing back and forth across the country trying to assist in that damn kidnapping case. They hadn't had much time alone -- or much time for much of anything. There had been that quick visit she had made to the hospital between a morning flight in from California and an evening flight out to New York City. She smiled at the memory. She did enjoy grappling on the narrow bed in Marsh's on call room like a teenager in heat. But it was hardly the height of romance.
Maybe they were losing that. They were well past the 'honey moon' period. They didn't live together but they slept together every night -- except when Marsh was on call or Scully was on a case. Such day-to-day intimacy could dull the excitement. Was Marsh getting bored with her?
She sighed, crammed the unfinished paperwork into her briefcase and snapped it shut. She glanced at the clock - it was after six pm already. "I don't think so. Marsh hasn't called. She's probably still in the OR."
Mulder nodded, deciding from the look on her face that it was safer not to comment. "Here," he said quietly, handing her a rectangular white envelope.
She stared at the proffered object for a moment, and then took it tentatively from his outstretched hand. She pulled it open and slid out a single thickness of brightly colored paper. A valentine that reminded her of the kind she sent as a child -- the ones that came ten to a pack. A red heart with frilly fake lace edges, and the words, "To My Best Friend", contained within.
Scully was incredibly touched that he would even think of this after all he had been through recently. She was horrified to find her throat constricting and her eyes beginning to burn. She swallowed, cleared her throat, finally looked at him. His expression fluctuated somewhere between trepidation and self-satisfaction. "Thanks Mulder."
He shrugged, a lop-sided grin forming. "Don't mention it."
"I didn't get you anything," she said, feeling guilty. *I got Marsh a great pair of silk boxers, though - navy blue silk with a single button on the fly. Sexy as hell, especially when she's wearing -- *
"S'okay," he answered. "My mailbox is overflowing with 'em."
Finally she smiled. "Yeah. Right." She gathered her things and headed for the door. "Night, Mulder."
"Hey," he called after her. "Maybe she tried and the flower guy couldn't find the office!"
She shook her head, silently departing, her footsteps echoing down the long dim corridor.
"Agent Scully?" a deep male voice asked politely, as a figure stepped forward on the sidewalk in front of the FBI building.
Scully stopped, instantly alert, but not particularly worried. Medium height, middle thirties, neatly dressed, totally nonthreatening posture. Hands at his sides -- no evidence of a weapon. "Yes?"
"I'm your driver, ma'am," he continued, indicating a white limousine idling at the curb. "If you'll allow me." He reached to open the rear door.
"You've made a mistake," Scully began, shaking her head.
He smiled and handed her an envelope. "No, ma'am." He remained by the open door, patiently waiting.
Scully opened the second mystery envelope of the day and pulled out a folded note. She opened it and read, "Remember the time at your mother's with Bill in the next room? You cried at the end. You were so beautiful"
Scully colored involuntarily at the recollection of trying desperately to be quiet, a pillow firmly clenched in her teeth, as Marsh stroked her. The note could only be from her. Scully looked at the man beside the vehicle, searching for any hint of danger, anything that didn't feel right. She laughed quietly and slid into the luxurious interior. Sometimes a rose is just a rose.
The dark leather smell surrounded her, and on the seat she found a real rose, with a small white card pinned to its stem.
"Have I told you today how much I love you? More than I can ever say"
Scully read the words again, at once warmed and mystified. She had never expected this love -- never sought it nor dreamed it nor longed for it. And now she could not imagine living without it. Without Marsh. The mere thought produced a physical pain. She brushed the fear away, knowing there was nothing she could do to change the future. All she could do was cherish the present.
She held the card tightly, trying to see by the signs passing outside the tinted glass windows the direction her driver was taking them. Downtown -- God, she hoped it wasn't some expensive restaurant. She wasn't dressed for it, and she was beat. The last weeks had been insane, and she was emotionally and physically frayed. Still, she was eager to discover exactly what Marsh had planned for her.
A few moments later, she could see her destination, and her heart plummeted.
*Oh god -- not the Hay-Adams Hotel! I am absolutely not prepared for dinner there!*
Her driver pulled around the curving drive to the entrance and hurried to open her door for her. To her surprise, he accompanied her into the vast foyer with its ornamental ceiling, huge Grecian columns and eclectic European and Asian antiques. To her relief, he steered her away from the Lafayette dining room toward a private elevator tucked away in a corner. A dignified man in an elaborate uniform stood by the open door.
"To the Imperial Suite, Henry," the driver said, then quietly slipped away.
"Madam," Henry said in a deep formal tone, gesturing for Scully to precede him into a beautiful elevator car adorned with brocade wall coverings above dark walnut wainscoting.
Scully smiled at the appellation, and followed him in.
Marsh met her at the door to the suite, obviously freshly showered and wearing a royal blue silk dressing gown that Scully had given her for Christmas. Her legs were bare below the mid-thigh hem, and Scully was quite certain there were only the sash and the smooth cool silk above that point as well.
Marsh had a very self-satisfied smile on her face.
"I don't know what to say," Scully admitted, still standing at the threshold of an enormous suite of rooms. She felt shy, for no reason she could imagine. This was the woman who had held her countless nights, and touched her life more intimately than any other person. Yet seeing her there, so confident and so absolutely stunning, Scully had a moment's insecurity. They had made love hundreds of times, but she had never been so aware of Marsh's sexual presence before.
*Why me?* she thought. *Why does she want me?*
"You don't have to say anything," Marsh said quietly, taking her hand and leading her into the bedroom. A king-sized bed, the ornate coverlet thrown back to reveal pale blue satin sheets and a mountain of pillows, dominated the room. A silver ice bucket stood nearby with a bottle of Dom Perignon chilling in it.
Marsh took Scully's coat and briefcase and laid them on a nearby chair. Then she very slowly and very gently removed each article of Scully's clothing. As each layer was shed, Marsh stroked the newly exposed skin with her fingers and her mouth. Neither of them spoke, but by the time Scully stood nude before her lover, they were both flushed. Marsh wrapped her in a soft white robe and poured two glasses of champagne.
"Come with me," Marsh whispered. She opened the door to the bathroom and drew Scully inside. A huge sunken tub was filled to the top, rose petals floating on the surface. The air was heavy with the scent, suffusing Scully with a languid sense of ripe sensuality.
"I just filled the tub," Marsh murmured, sliding the robe from Scully's shoulders as she guided her to the single stair down into the bath.
Scully slid into the warm, soothing water, groaning as her aching muscles began to relax. She leaned her head back, and surveyed Marsh through half closed lids. "And here I thought you forgot."
Marsh lifted the crystal champagne flute to her lips, admiring the creamy expanse of shoulders and curve of breast exposed above the light layer of suds. A faint sheen of perspiration clung to Dana's face, and Marsh had the deep urge to lick the tiny droplets away. Her voice was very tight as she answered. "How could I forget, when every day I am reminded of what a miracle you are."
Scully blushed, still surprised by Marsh's ardor. She raised one hand, beckoning. "Join me."
"Not yet," Marsh replied, slipping out of her robe and sitting on the wide marble ledge of the sunken bath. She reached for a large soft sponge, scooped up the fragrant suds, and began to lightly massage Scully's arms and shoulders.
Scully groaned again, arching her body upward, her breasts emerging from the water pink from the warmth, nipples puckering in the cooler air. She looked at Marsh's handsome face bending near, and felt the dark intensity of her lover's eyes on her skin. She recognized the desire swirling there. She asked a question she had never asked before, not even sure why she needed to know. "Why do you love me?"
Marsh's eyes grew pensive, tracing one finger down the outer edge of Scully's breast. She brushed her palms over Scully's chest, lingering a mere instant on her breasts, making Scully moan softly.
"The first time I saw you, I knew I had never seen anyone like you before." She returned to Scully's breasts, lifting them softly in her hands, thumb and forefinger kneading the tense nipples. Scully bit her bottom lip and leaned her head back against the curved edge of the tub. Marsh continued, her voice dreamy. "Your eyes were flashing fire, and your face was so fierce. You were strong, and valiant and frighteningly beautiful. My heart ached to look at you."
Marsh slid a hand under the surface and lifted Scully's leg. She began to slowly knead the calf muscles, working her fingers deep into the taut muscles. "The first time I touched you, I knew I had never touched anyone as desirable as you." She reached Scully's foot, her deft surgeon's hands massaging the fine bones and tendons rhythmically. Scully groaned, sinking deeper into the warmth, seduced by the intoxicating pleasure of Marsh's ministrations. "You excite me as no one ever has -- ," Marsh whispered. She stroked the length of each toe, rubbing the pads with her thumb. "You make me weak with wanting you."
Scully slowly opened her eyes only to find her vision blurred by desire. "I want you next to me," she said hoarsely. Her body was humming, beginning the slow burn of need.
"Soon." Marsh edged her legs into the tub, easing her fingers up Scully's legs. She made teasing circles over Scully's inner thighs, gliding on the soap softened skin, reaching higher with each pass. "You are every dream I ever dared dream." Words spoken so softly it was like another caress.
Scully lifted her hips, sending small ripples across the surface of the water. "I need you so much."
Marsh was silent, slipping into the water and moving behind Scully to cradle her in her arms. Scully leaned her head back against Marsh's chest, curling her fingers around Marsh's encircling arms, drawing Marsh's hands down over her belly. She guided Marsh's fingers against her, her breath catching as she felt the first exquisite touch. "Oh that is so good," she breathed. Marsh stirred her as no one ever had -- ever could. *I never would have believed any one could do this to me. You own my soul*
Marsh pressed her lips to Scully's neck, closing her eyes, letting all thought dissolve. Her world became sound and texture and the faint movement of Dana in her arms. She followed wherever Scully led, content to please, grateful to give.
Scully's eyes closed too, all her senses spiraling down to center in the nerve endings deep within her. Blood pounded and pulsed through her belly, muscles quivered, and her heart beat erratically. She was so very close, and so very ready.
Scully pressed Marsh inside, holding Marsh's hand firmly against her. Marsh's palm massaged her stiff clit as Scully slowly rode up and down the tantalizing length of Marsh's fingers. Scully crooned her delight, small sighs and murmurs that blended and grew louder as she neared the point where consciousness shatters and sensation rules.
With one deep tremor she succumbed, shuddering repeatedly within the safe circle of Marsh's embrace. Tears mixed with the warm mist on her cheeks.
They clung to one another with no words to express the wonder they had found together.
Until, "I love you so much."
Two voices, one eternal passion.
DISCLAIMERS: The characters of Scully, Mulder, Skinner and others/events introduced on the X-Files are the sole property of Chris Carter etc, and are used here without permission for entertainment, not for profit.