The weather radio drones on as Scully
and I sit in an El
Dorado, Kansas motel room, surrounded by case files and remnants of a
hastily purchased fast food dinner. Most residents with a clue have
already gone to community shelters, leaving only law enforcement and
other brave souls patrolling the neighborhoods. We have been idiotic
enough to ignore the tornado watches, anxious to wrap up what
appeared to be an X-File when we got here, but now just looks like an
Farm animals were methodically butchered on the outskirts of
the city, hearts removed with such expertise that local authorities
suspected devil worship. The killings went on for so long, with no
clue as to the identity of the perpetrators, that the police
department felt compelled to call in federal authorities, just to
calm rising panic among local residents.
It is looking more and more like a
hoax and we just want to do
our paperwork and get out of here. I don't know why we aren't taking
the weather seriously. We probably should, but I've never taken
tornado watches seriously at all, and only occasionally heeded
tornado warnings if the weather channel reported twisters close by.
Besides, we're tired as hell and I've
having a much better time
staring at Scully as she works at the motel room desk. She changed
into a light blue jogging outfit as soon as we got back, pulling her
hair back with a clip, and shedding her shoes to reveal carefully
manicured pink toenails. While eating dinner, I tried to conceal my
fascination with the blue of her eyes and the bareness of her toes,
casting surreptitious glances whenever I thought she was lost in her
McDonald's chicken salad and fries.
We had enough sense to turn on the
weather band of our
transistor radio and the weather channel, sound muted, glows from the
older model set across the room. I lean against the headboard,
gazing at Scully with more difficulty now, as the mesmerizing drone
of the computerized announcer lulls me to sleep. I was just starting
to imagine if Scully had on something very brief and sexy under her
modest jogging suit when the computerized voice changes to a human
one, urgency in their tone. My eyes whip open and meet Scully's as
she turns from her laptop with a questioning glance. A twister has
been sighted just ten miles away, prompting a tornado warning to be
I curse our bad judgement, grab Scully
and the radio, and hurry
our butts into the bathroom, slamming the door with a clang. We end
up on opposite sides of the all too short porcelain tub, Scully
fitting cramped quarters easily, but not so myself. I pull my long
legs almost to my chin, trying not to kick her, and doing a piss poor
job of it.
"Ouch, Mulder! First you pull my
arm off, now you want to
whack my knees off!"
"Sorry, Scully. But I think it's
just too crowded in here like
this. Why don't you come sit over here?" With a mischievous grin, I
pat the space between my legs, daring her to come sit in front of me.
To my astonishment, she slides over, then settles her back against my
"Hey Scully, I was just kidding around, you don't have to..."
"Shut up, Mulder. We'll be much
more comfortable till the
coast is clear."
I decide to quit arguing while I'm
ahead, enjoying the
sensation of her warm softness leaning into my torso. We listen to
the weather radio, still broadcasting live. My legs now reach the
end of the tub and I can relax a bit despite the tempest outside.
Scully smells wonderful, something jasminy, like English tea. I
close my eyes, breathe deeply, and somehow manage to keep my hands to
myself, setting them on opposite sides of the tub.
The weather is audibly worse outside; all too apparent to us,
even behind closed doors. In fact, it doesn't sound like a tornado,
just a really bad storm blowing its way through town. I think I hear
large hailstones on the rooftop as the wind shrieks horrendously past
our ticky tacky motel. Scully is getting nervous, very nervous.
I've never seen her so agitated by bad weather before, but then this
is the first time I've ever waited out a tornado warning with her.
She pulls my arms down around her, folding them tightly around her
shoulders. I gently rub my hands up and down her arms, trying to
reassure her that we're not in mortal danger here.
"You know, Scully...if I imagined
myself in a bathtub with you,
it wouldn't be during a tornado warning...," I say, trying to lighten
"Or with so much clothing on,
right?" she quips back, laughing
in earnest and still clutching at my forearms.
"That too, I guess," I muse
wistfully, unable to conceal my
yearning for just that scenario.
Scully sighs heavily, the sound
through my chest behind her. After a few minutes she says, "We'll
have to try that sometime...I've always wanted to have a bubble bath
I am dumbfounded, speechless. What
can I say to that? I
search for a snappy comeback, shocked that my partner, kidding or
not, has made such an uncharacteristic remark. I guess she just
wants to give as good as she gets from her annoying, lecherous
partner. I decide to quit racking my brain for a rejoinder and just
delight in being able to hold her in my arms, clothed or not.
"Aren't you going to make some witty retort back?"
"Don't feel like it."
"Cat got your tongue?"
"No, Scully got me big time."
She giggles openly, twisting around in
my arms and meeting my
eyes, warily. There is something there, something I haven't seen for
months, almost a year. Pools of beautiful blue loom large, as Scully
bites at her lower lip, indecisive, tentative.
"I was hoping I would have
you...all the time..." She brushes
my cheek with the back of her hand, shifting closer, waiting for some
sign that I think this is wise.
I gently push her hair to one side, stroking her cheek with
obvious tenderness. Then I say, "Are you sure, Scully? I can offer
you my undivided attention..."
"I can take whatever you dole out, G-Man..."
That was all I needed to hear. With
trembling hands, I capture
her face, kissing her deeply, passionately. We part only to catch
our breath, then indulge in another round of sweet caresses. She
finally pulls back, scrutinizing my tear-soaked cheeks. She then
whispers softly, "You've got me big time, Mulder, big time."
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