VI.
Spontaneous Premeditation
It wasn't sound that awakened him; he'd been so jet-lagged
earlier that all he did was strip down to his shorts and
tumble into bed, immediately losing himself to sleep, his
body trying to adjust from London time. Only an earthquake
could have penetrated his slumbering eardrums. It was the
sudden influx of cooler air under the covers, and the dip of
the bed by his side. His eyes jerked open and he reached
for his weapon on the night stand with fumbling fingers.
The motion ceased before he could pinpoint his gun and a
soft voice said, "It's just me."

Blinking rapidly, he faced the voice, seeing a small figure
outlined in the street light from the window, one knee on
the bed already, one hand holding the covers up as if she
were afraid to move a hair.

"Scully?"

Satisfied she'd kept him from reacting violently, she slid
under the covers, huddling on her side next to him. "How'd
you guess?"

The hand still on the night stand fell to his bare chest as
he laid back, the other itching to touch her to make sure
she was real. Forcing his heart to slow down, he used humor
to ease his sudden attack of nerves. "By voice only,
really. Women climb into bed with me all the time, you
know. Wearing nothing but one of my t-shirts."

"Oh, really?" He could picture the rise of her brow in the
darkness.

Turning his head, he grinned, knowing the light shone on his
face, thereby giving her the more discerning view. "Uh...
no. I lied." With his other hand, he traced her cheek with
the backs of his fingers, the rough knuckles soothed by the
downy skin. He felt his eyes burn as his smile faded and he
asked, in all sincerity, "Is this Scully spontaneity?"

Her hand covered his and she pressed the back of his hand
closer, creating a pleasant friction that ignited a slow
burn all the way down into his belly. Speak, Scully, he
wanted to say. Before I throw all thoughts of rational
response out the window and make the decision for us both.

"Spontaneity?" The corner of her mouth lifted, tickling the
fine hair on his fingers. "Let's see... I let you keep this
debate up for what - oh, four years or so, knowing full well
it would eventually lead to this moment. In that time, I've
put you off with logic, with euphemisms and allegories...
just as you have, I might add."

"Let me?" His argument was weak, but his excitement pushed
him to mark the moment with familiar repartee. "You
participated, you know -"

Which she ignored, continuing, "I've even shown you my
'yes' man act in the middle of the Antarctic. Tonight, it's
the old 'come to bed with just his t-shirt on'. Guaranteed
to stir the inevitable question in any man's mind - is she
wearing underwear?"

"Are you?" he interrupted, the images conjured up by her
dissertation of the facts he'd let sail by him over the
years making his head swim - especially that last one.

"Being spontaneous?"

"Wearing underwear."

Under the covers, he felt her legs shift, one bare foot
gliding up his calf. "Are you?"

"Yeah. I didn't expect this, you know."

"Then all this premeditation on my part will have gone to
waste?"

Releasing her hand, he quickly divested himself of his
shorts, never breaking his silent scrutiny of a pre-sex
Scully face. As in all things, she was calm, the only
betraying signs of her arousal the heavy-lidded eyes and the
quickening breath through lips licked to deep, night colors.

The boxers sailed to the other side of his bedroom and he
slowly moved toward her, over her, holding his breath as she
parted her legs to let him in her embrace. He didn't press
fully, keeping a suitable distance by balancing on his
elbows, his eyes holding hers as he felt her knees cradle
his hips. The first touch of her moist curls on his
erection made him jerk forward, and his gasp echoed hers.
"Sorry," he whispered. "I'm kinda nervous."

Beneath his belly, he felt little ripples float across her
stomach, even through the cotton of the t-shirt. Once
again, she licked her lips, her hands gripping his waist.
"It's not like I do this every day either, you know."

"Neither do I," he said, knowing her admitted celibacy
matched his for length and frustration. "But I've thought
about it a lot. Very much so the past couple of years."

"Me, too." Eyes still open and watching his face, she
swallowed. "So?"

"So... what?" Even if they never made it beyond this point,
he could die a happy man. Physical union with this woman
could never transcend the melding of minds they'd reached
years ago.

Though it would come damned close, and he'd be lying if he
said it didn't matter.

"T-shirt on or off?" Their bodies only several inches from
total merging, still she checked off on her mental checklist
to full intimacy. If that wasn't un-spontaneous, he didn't
know what was.

He pretended to think about it for a moment or two, as he
let his body settle upon hers, his hands moving to her hips.
"Hmm... on, I think. I wanna wear it tomorrow, even though
I wore it today." The thought of smelling her on him all
day made him woozy. And he could feel the hard points of
her nipples against his chest; he didn't have to see to
believe she was ready. "Besides, I've seen you naked." A
sight, despite the frigid cold of Antarctica, that was
burned onto his brain.

"Same here," She grinned, one light touch trailing from his
waist to his groin and back. "But I think I want it off."

"Then why did you ask?" One hand already pushed the material
up, exposing skin that shivered beneath his fingers.

Her hands abandoned the chase momentarily, as she lifted her
arms with the request to be stripped naked. He complied,
pulling the t-shirt off to toss it to the floor. Arms still
above her head, she stretched beneath him like a cat, her
eyes wide with coquettish glee. "Because... I wanted you to
make the decision?"

"Bullshit," he growled, letting his body lower to meet hers.
At the humid slide of skin against skin, he almost lost it,
wanting to howl with lust. His voice became gravelly,
untamed as he fought for control. "You've never backed down
from anything in your life."

"True." One hand wrapped around his neck, the fingers
sifting through the short, damp hair. "Guess I'm nervous,
too."

Sobering, he gave in to his body's call to move, slowly
positioning himself as he felt her other hand move down his
torso. "So this is it, huh?"

"Guess so," she whispered, licking her lips. "We've seen
each other naked, we've kissed. We've talked about it.
Quite a lot, actually."

His mouth hovered over hers; he was tired of talking. But
there was one more thing to be said. "To clarify, Scully -
remember when I told you that I loved you?"

"Yeah."

"I meant it."

In answer, her feathery touch became bold, insinuating.
Lifting his hips just a fraction to allow her fingers to
sneak in, he finally squeezed his eyes shut at the feel of
her small fingers wrapping around his dick. A few
experimental strokes later, she silently drew him into her
warmth. He slid in with no problem, his groan mixing with
her sigh.

"I know you did," she whispered against his lips. "Just
another step in our mutual, years-long spontaneity."

At last, he kissed her, drowning in sensation. For long,
long minutes, they moved together, sometimes in perfect
sync, sometimes not.

"Harder, Mulder - ow, too much!"

"Sorry. This better?"

"Yeahhh... have to... tell you something..."

"Go... right ahead."

"I'm not really... a 'yes' man," she stated, one foot coming
up to anchor his hips to hers as he spread his hand on her
opposite thigh, opening her wider. "I'm more of a moaner."

"Oh yeah?" he panted. "Like what?" He felt her clench
around him.

"Like... oh God, Mulder..." Her voice was low and deep,
sending shivers up his spine. "I love you..." She
splintered into a thousand pieces before him, around him,
her neck arching in the unconscious invitation to succumb as
well.

He did, the soft, dampness of her cheek muffling his
answering moan as he came, his lips tasting her spontaneous
passion and premeditated love.

Just as his heart and mind did, so long ago. In the office,
in the car, in the wilderness. It had always been there.


**********


Scully left his side for a moment, shushing his snort of
disapproval. "I'm hot," she said, sitting up to fling off
the sheet. As she curled back into his side, she pinched
his arm. "Don't even think of saying it," she warned,
sensing a Frohike-ism on his lips.

His hand drew figure eights on her bare hip and he chuckled,
"Did I say a word? Hmm?"

"No, but you were thinking it." His silence confirmed it,
and she closed her eyes, smiling in the darkness.

Under the cooling blanket of night air, she tucked her knee
over his, kicking away the remainder of the sheet with her
other foot. Sleep beckoned, but she could feel Mulder's
mind working in overdrive, the lazy, endless loops on her
skin a deceptive mask for a weighty word or two hovering on
his lips.

"Okay, spill it."

Instead of hedging the question, Mulder launched right into
it. "Was that premeditated, too?"

She knew exactly what he worried about. "You mean - do I
always blurt out 'I love you' as the logical conclusion to
sex?"

The pillow shifted as he turned his head from its nuzzle of
her hair, his voice apologetic. "Don't answer that. I'm
being an ass. A jealous, chauvinistic ass."

But it was obviously important to him. A gauge of her
commitment to this new side of their relationship. Drugs or
not, he found the courage to say it to her long ago. And it
was with truthful lips that she gave him what he deserved,
in the height of passion, as well as now.

"Totally spontaneous. I do believe that's the first time
I've ever said that to anyone while enjoying the fruits of
premeditation. It's not easy for me to say, you know." She
reached up, turning his chin to her with one finger.
"Remember that moment, Mulder. You can say you've witnessed
true Scully spontaneity."

His eyes glittered, twin jewels of light and love. "Will I
witness it again?"

Her nod was emphatic. "Definitely. Especially if I get to
enjoy a little Mulder premeditation now and then."

As he plied her mouth with his own, he muttered, "Okay
then... 'Plan Nine from Outer Space'? Or 'Caddyshack'?"

Scully wrapped her arms around him, tasting beer on her
tongue, and fru-fruitti in his kiss. Not a bad combination
after all.
The End