Drunk on the Atmosphere

by ML

Title: Drunk on the Atmosphere
Author: ML
Email: msnsc21@aol.com
Distribution: Ephemeral, Gossamer, Enigmatic Dr., or if you've archived me before, yes; if you haven't, please just let me know and leave headers, email addy, etc. attached. Thanks! Spoilers: A few S5 mentions
Rating: NC-17
Classification: MSR, humor, a tiny sprinkling of angst Summary: In which your author combines many fanfic ingredients and whips them into a froth for Christmas.

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, they belong to Chris Carter, TenThirteen, and Fox Broadcasting. I mean no infringement, and I'm making no money.

Author's Notes: I'd set this around Season 5, but it veers off into AU territory before Scully goes to San Diego for Christmas. In this story, she doesn't go to San Diego.

Drunk on the Atmosphere
by ML

Dana Scully was alone on Christmas Eve and feeling sorry for herself.

She sat in her decorated apartment, next to her gaily lit tree. Soft holiday songs played on the stereo. She sipped at her wine and stared into the flames of her fire and wished for company.

It was her own fault; she'd been invited to San Diego to spend Christmas with Bill and Tara and her mother, but at the last minute, she'd invented some pressing business and begged off. Her mother had not been pleased, and she expected to get a blasting phone call from Bill any time, but she didn't care. She loved her family, but family wasn't what she needed right now.

She needed some time alone, to re-assess her life. So much had changed over the past few months. It took some time to get over the notion that she was dying, that she actually had a future to plan again. She knew she didn't want to go back to things the way they were before. She wanted more. During her recovery, she'd made some discoveries about herself, and what she really wanted and needed.

One thing she'd discovered: she needed and wanted Mulder. Not just as a partner or as a friend, but in some fundamental way. The thing was, he didn't seem to need her as much. He'd been strangely distant since her recovery, and she couldn't figure out why.

He'd been very sweet when he thought she was dying; very generous with kisses and touches, and almost profligate with his smiles. He smiled more at her in the space of those last days she was in the hospital than she'd seen in the previous four years. But once he'd known she was safe again, he'd closed in on himself, clammed right up. One feeble innuendo in the forest in Florida, and he was probably feverish at the time.

She'd tried to subtly show him that her feelings for him were not what they once were, hoping that he'd pick up on them in his intuitive way. But somehow those signals weren't getting through to him. That wavelength was blocked. It was frustrating. Mulder, the master of innuendo and cognitive leaps, couldn't see what was right in front of his face. And she wasn't going to draw him a picture.

But she could write him a letter. Scully poured herself another glass of wine. Direct confrontation was, well, too direct. She couldn't face him if he truly didn't feel the same way toward her. It would be embarrassing for both of them. If she wrote him a letter, she could just slip it under his door. If he never said anything, that would be that. They could go about their business, and pretend it never happened.

She took another sip of wine. She couldn't see a downside to it at all. She'd write it, and then decide whether or not she would give it to him. Just writing it would be a release. Yes, that's what she'd do.

Dana stood up and stretched, wobbling a little. Her head was buzzing now, buzzing with what she wanted to say. She should write it right now, while the ideas were fresh. Later, she'd start to feel all stilted and weird about it. She sat down at her desk and booted up her computer.

But wouldn't a nice, long soak in the bath and another little glass of wine be nice, too? She didn't need to write him no stinkin' letter. Let him stew. If he couldn't figure out how she felt, to hell with him. Fuck him.

Not likely, given the current state of affairs between them.

Momentarily distracted by images in her head involving Mulder, Scully poured herself another glass of wine and went in to run her bath. The tub was halfway filled when she had her brilliant idea: she could take a bath, and write Mulder a letter at the same time!

Scully tottered back into the living room and picked up her laptop. Its battery was well-charged, so she didn't have to worry about electrocution. She'd prop it up on the wire basket that fit across the tub and normally held her sponges and bath gels. She'd be very, very careful.

It never once occurred to her that paper and pen would be much easier. Nope, give Special Agent Doctor Dana Scully a problem, and she gets it solved. One way or another.

She sunk happily into the tub full of fragrant bubbles and leaned over the edge of the tub to pick up the laptop and balance it on the wire basket thing.

Bliss. She shut her eyes and composed herself. This had to be just right. As much as Mulder liked to throw innuendo around, he wasn't very swift sometimes at picking up her signals. Maybe she should get this notarized when she was done with it. Mulder didn't usually require much proof, but he seemed to want it from her about her feelings. Not that he was terribly forthcoming with his feelings, either. She made no move toward the laptop, but allowed herself to float a while in the steamy heat, dreaming of extreme possibilities.


Meanwhile, Fox Mulder was buying himself a Christmas present.

Well, not a Christmas present, exactly, but it would help him get through the long, lonely week, he hoped.

He hated the years that Scully went to San Diego. When she stayed in town, he could count on seeing her or talking to her most days. Even on Christmas Day she often called from her mom's house just to see what he was doing, and to urge him to come over. He never did, but he liked being asked.

This year, he thought that he was lucky that Scully was even speaking to him.

He didn't know how to behave around her any more. He was more grateful that he could ever express that she had been spared from the ravages of cancer, but once the furor died down and she was back at work, he seemed unable to do anything about it. If anything, he'd distanced himself even more from her. It was for her own good, he told himself.

When she first recovered, she seemed interested in being a little more personal with him. She made tentative overtures that at first he didn't understand, and then alarmed him. He wasn't sure if she was just reacting to her reprieve, or if she was signaling in her very subtle way that what she felt for him was more than friendship. That maybe, just maybe, she'd like to be more than his work partner.

For his own part, ever since he'd almost lost her, he'd had the most un-partnerly feelings toward her. So much so, that he thought he might be imagining that the most innocent of gestures on her part meant something more. It thrilled him to no end when she met and matched his innuendo, but he wouldn't follow up on it. It wouldn't be fair. What if he was wrong? He had a notion that if he made a move, Scully would do her best to let him down gently. He didn't want to make her do that. He'd been living with these feelings for a long time. He couldn't say with any certainty how long, but he finally admitted them to himself when she was dying.

Then, not long ago, she seemed to change. Mulder noticed this with a mixture of relief and regret. She stopped responding to his verbal come-ons, and began to close herself off again. She stopped smiling as much, and barely seemed interested in anything outside of the work. He'd asked about her Christmas plans, and she'd been uncharacteristically vague, except to say her mother was going to San Diego, and she supposed she'd go, too.

Then something happened that really puzzled him. On their last day in the office before Christmas, Scully had left early. When Mulder got back from lunch, he'd found a wrapped package on his desk. No card, no note. He was sure it was from her. Even though every year they agreed not to give each other presents, they always did. He had one for her in his car.

Mulder took the package home to unwrap it, and he was grateful that he hadn't opened it in the office. Inside the package was a pair of thong bikinis. They were obviously meant for him, judging by the size. And they were covered with a design of little green aliens.

That was definitely a mixed signal. It was a very unScully -like gift. It seemed to say, "Come and get me, Mulder." On the other hand, Scully's recent behavior seemed to say, "leave me alone."

Mulder wasn't sure which signal was the correct one. And now he had a week or so to stew over it, unless he decided to jump a plane to San Diego and confront Scully. Wouldn't that make a good impression on her family!

Instead, Mulder took the path of least resistance, and did what he usually did over the holidays: watched videos, drank some beer, and intermittently felt sorry for himself.

He found the video he was looking for: "Naughty Christmas Tails," starring Lotta Lickstein and Dominick Dickler. Adult Entertainment Weekly had given it a four-star rating. The splashy cover declared that it was Lotta's best work to date. He had quite the soft spot for Ms. Lickstein's work. What a shame she'd decided to go legit. He'd heard on E! that she was going to be in the next Kevin Bacon flick.

He hoped she was changing her name.

He couldn't help but notice the display of Christmaspatterned thongs and thought briefly of getting one to give Scully. Just in case. But he really didn't want to buy her a present that came from an adult bookstore.

Big Al himself was at the counter this Christmas Eve. Big Al looked and sounded like Danny De Vito, and he cultivated that image, strutting around his store with the stub of an unlit cigar clamped in his teeth. "Hey, Marty," he greeted Mulder around the cigar. "Do you want cherry red, or ever-ready green?"

"Excuse me?" Mulder asked.

Big Al indicated the boxes next to the register. "All $19.95 videos come with one of these. Gift with purchase. Merry Christmas."

The illustration on the boxes showed the "Quiet Giant" battery-operated vibrating massager. From the size of the box, it looked to be almost a foot long.

"What do you expect me to do with that?" Mulder asked.

Big Al shrugged. "I dunno. That's your business. Use it as a Christmas present. I can sell ya an instruction video if you like."

Mulder shook his head. "Thanks anyway." He took his bag from Big Al and wished him a Merry Christmas.

He stopped at a Trader Joe's on the way home, tossing whatever sounded good into his basket. He lingered over the gift packages of soaps and lotions for a moment. He had a gift for Scully but it seemed impersonal in comparison to what she'd given him.

After he put the groceries in his car, he wandered around the shopping center. The cold air felt good on his face, and he was reluctant to go back home just yet. The walkways and storefronts were decorated with lights. Crowds of people hurried along, most laden with packages. Scully actually liked doing this sort of thing, he mused. Why?

The window of a lingerie shop caught his eye. It was more tasteful than the usual mall displays. No busty mannequins here, just nicely arranged silks and satins tied up with ribbon. Nestled among the marabou mules and satin teddies, he saw a small boxed set of panties in Christmas colors. He looked at them for a long moment.

"Oh, what the hell," he muttered, and entered the shop.

When he got home, he noticed that Big Al had put one of the vibrators in his bag anyway. He shrugged and tossed it on his coffee table, next to the pretty gift bag from the lingerie shop.

An hour or so and several beers later, Mulder realized that the considerable charms of Lotta Lickstein weren't doing anything for him. The only person in whose charms he had any interest at all was his partner. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to think of Scully for a few minutes.

He recalled her smile, how the healthy glow had come back to her cheeks these last few weeks. How wonderful it had been, the night they spent together in the forest in Florida. Sure, he was wounded and slightly delirious, but she'd held him close and gently teased him. Not to mention her singing. Dana Scully had let down her reserve and sang to him, just because he'd asked her to.

And in return, he'd gone off on another tangent, leaving her holding the bag. Or in this case, the tray of wine and cheese.

If she were here right now, he'd go to her and tell her in person just what she meant to him.

But Scully was in San Diego. She hadn't even called to say goodbye.

Mulder shifted on the couch. He almost picked up the phone to inquire about flights to San Diego, and then thought better of it. Scully should be back by New Year's; maybe he could patch things up with her then.

In the meantime, he was missing her. He wanted to be somewhere that reminded him of her. If he couldn't be near Scully, at least he could be near her things.

He loaded up a grocery sack with food and drink, wisely leaving the video behind.

Mindful of the fact that he'd had enough beers to put him over the legal limit, Mulder called a cab. He hustled down the four flights of stairs and stood impatiently at the curb, bouncing on the balls of his feet. It might not make him feel better, going to Scully's, but it couldn't possibly make him feel worse.

As he unlocked and opened the door to Scully's apartment, it surprised him to see lights on in the living room. Even the tree in the corner was lit. It was unlike Scully to go off and leave things like this, and he felt a stir of unease. Maybe she hadn't gone to San Diego after all.

Maybe she'd been taken from her apartment and was even now being held captive somewhere. He felt the familiar helpless panic rise in him that he felt whenever Scully was in danger.

He could see lights down the hall, in the bedroom and the bathroom. It looked more and more like Scully had left in a hurry. He stood listening in the hallway. No sound from anywhere. He got out his gun and crept slowly down the hallway toward the bathroom. The door was ajar.

He wasn't prepared for the sight that greeted him on the other side of the door.

Scully lay in the tub, her head resting against a sort of plastic pillow. Her eyes were shut, and she had a little half-smile on her face. The steam from the water turned her normally tailored hair into curly tendrils around her face. She was flushed a glowing pink from the water. Judging from her complexion and the steam, the water looked hot enough to parboil turnips. Not that Scully resembled a turnip in any way, shape, or form, but how could she stand the water so hot?

She sighed and stirred a little, one hand trailing outside the tub. The suds slid down her chest just enough so that Mulder could see the top slope of her breasts, and oh my, was that a nipple peeking out like a cherry under whipped cream?

He didn't want to, but he felt compelled to make some sort of warning sound before Scully revealed more.

He cleared his throat very softly and croaked, "Scully?"

Scully's eyes flew open and she made a funny sound, halfway between a shriek and a squeak, he judged. Her first impulse was to sit up, which of course made the suds slide lower, giving Mulder more of a view than he'd ever dreamed of getting. He backed to the door and jarred against it as Scully scrambled for something to cover herself with.


Although Scully's brain had been busily constructing a lovely fantasy involving Mulder, the last thing she expected was to hear Mulder's voice.

"Mulder, what the hell are you doing here?" Her voice came out sounding high and squeaky, which just annoyed her more. She quickly covered her breasts with a washcloth. Not that Mulder seemed to be looking. At the moment, his eyes were fixed on the wall above her head.

"You asked me to water your plants, Scully. Don't you remember? In fact, what are you doing here? Why aren't you in San Diego?"

"I didn't feel like going." Great, now she sounded sulky. Just what her mom accused her of being.

"Okay then, well, uh, sorry to bother you," Mulder blurted out, and bolted.

"Damn it, Mulder!" Scully stood up, the suds sliding off in cascades and feeling for all the world like soft fingertips against her skin. She shook her head to rid it of the last vestiges of fantasy. As she grabbed for a towel, her laptop teetered and then fell into the tub.

By the time she'd rescued her laptop and thrown her robe on, Mulder was long gone.


Mulder didn't wait for the elevator. He hit the stairs running and didn't stop until he was a block away. He stood hunched over, hands on bent knees while he caught his breath.

Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. Why had he run? What was Scully thinking of him now? Probably that he was a coward, or a voyeur, or worse, if anything could be worse. He stood straight and pulled out his cell phone to call a cab. Crap, the battery was dead. And it was beginning to snow. He trudged toward the business district, watching for a cab.


Scully nearly tripped over the grocery bag just inside her door. It looked like Mulder had quite a feast planned. Salt and vinegar chips, a packet of baklava, cheese and deli meats, a loaf of bread, apples and grapes. At the bottom, a six pack of winter ale. Had he planned on surprising her? She didn't think so -- he'd looked like the one surprised.

She tried to call his cell phone and got the "not available" message. A call to his apartment got her the answering machine.

Think, Scully. He might be there, and sulking. Maybe, though, he just hadn't gotten home yet.

Maybe she could beat him there, and deliver her own surprise. She added a few things to the groceries and called a cab.


Another cab was pulling away just as Mulder paid his off. Still berating himself, he entered his lobby to find Scully standing near the elevator.

"There you are," she said. She didn't look mad. Mulder began to relax a little.

"Hey Scully," he said with as much nonchalance as he could muster. "What are you doing here?"

"You left some stuff at my place and I thought you might need it," she said. She gestured at the bag with her chin.

Mulder tried to take it from her hands but she held on to it. "I've got it," she said. "Can I come up?"

"Sure," he said, frantically reviewing the state of his apartment when he left it. It couldn't be any worse than plenty of other times she'd seen it.

They rode up in silence. Once inside Mulder's apartment, Scully allowed him to take the bag from her, as if it had been her passport inside. She wandered into the living room as he took the bag into the kitchen to put the stuff away.

There was more in the bag than when he'd taken it to her place. He pulled out a carton of peppermint swirl ice cream and a box of chocolates. There was also a small gift-wrapped package in there.

"Scully," he called. "Is this your stuff?"

She poked her head through the kitchen door. "I'm willing to share," she said. "Though the wrapped package is all yours."

"I thought you already gave me a Christmas present," he said. "Didn't you leave one at work for me?"

She was already back in the living room. "Is this one for me?" her voice floated back to him.

This could be a massive miscalculation on his part. He rushed out to the living room to find Scully holding the "Quiet Giant."

"You couldn't even take the time to wrap it?" she said, shaking the vibrator at him, which was a little unnerving. But her eyes were sparkling with merriment, so he went along with the joke.

"I figured you'd guess what it was anyway," he said. "You don't already have one, do you?"

Scully just smiled. He liked that smile a lot. He decided to go for broke and pointed to the silver bag on the coffee table.

"I got you a little something else," he said.

Her eyes gleamed even as she made her token protest. "Mulder, you shouldn't have."

"I hope you'll like it. They match mine," he said with a grin. He couldn't wait to see the expression on her face.

The expression he got wasn't was he was hoping for. It was shock, unmistakable shock. Her face was as pink as it had been in the tub.

She held the tiny thong bikinis up by one finger. "You have some of these, Mulder? I'd put that under the heading of Too Much Information."

He felt his grin fade. "But, but they're just like the pair you gave me."

"Mulder, I did no such thing. I have your present with me. Why did you think I'd give you something like that?"

"You left it on my desk, just before you left for the day!"

Scully shook her head. "Mulder, that wasn't me. The package was left there before lunch. You must have a secret admirer. I bet it was someone in the clerical pool. A couple of them were giggling about something in the bathroom, but they stopped when I came in."

Now it was Mulder's turn to feel embarrassed. His mouth opened and shut while he tried to think what to say.

Scully put down the package and stood before him. "Shut up, Mulder," she said fondly, and reached her hands up to pull his head down toward hers.

Suddenly she was everywhere at once: her hands, her mouth, the press of her body against him. He was aware of both individual and overall sensations.

The silky softness of her tongue rubbing delicately over his lips.

Her small fingers playing at the back of his neck.

The sound and feel of her breath in his ear.

The push of her breasts against his chest.

The scent of her, surrounding him, coccooning him in all that was Scully. And over all of it, the singing of his blood coursing throughout his body.

It didn't take long for his own explorations to add to the sensory feast. He felt the ridges of her ribs and spine as his hands quested over her body, reaching up under her sweater to smooth over her bare skin. Then down to the waistband of her jeans, over soft roundness of her ass as he gripped her closer, accompanied by the sensation of blossoming heat between them and the growing hardness of his cock nudging her soft belly.

Scully ground against him, curling one leg around his calf as she molded her body to his. He couldn't help it; he moaned into her mouth. He pulled her into his arms and she gripped him around the waist with her legs, hands clinging to his shoulders as her mouth worked him over.

Mulder staggered backward, hoping the sofa was near enough to break their fall. He dropped with an "umph!" and felt the resultant surge of arousal as gravity pressed Scully harder into his groin.

They both took shaky breaths at the same time. "Wow, Mulder," Scully said. Her eyes were half-closed with desire, her lips half-open. He gave into the urge to nip her luscious lips and initiated another prolonged session of mouth-to-mouth before they both had to come up for air again.


The alcohol had worn off long before, but Scully was now drunk on sensation. Mulder's lips and hands had sent her into a haze of pleasure and the longing for more of the same. She felt warm and liquid against him. His scent and taste, a heady mixture of soap, sweat, salt and all the unnamable essences that made him Mulder were more potent than any mere drink could be.

"Think I could talk you into taking this someplace more comfortable?" Mulder suggested between nipping at her earlobe and down the column of her throat to her collarbone.

"I'm pretty comfortable here," she said, wriggling in his lap.

"I do have a bed," he murmured. "Pretty nice one, too. Hardly been used."

She pulled back slightly. "How come?"

"Been saving it for a special occasion," he said in a sultry voice.

"Well, it is Christmas," she said, nuzzling his cheek. He felt so good. Even the slight roughness of his stubble felt good on her skin.

"That's not why this is special," he said. "Though I like the idea of unwrapping you," and he punctuated each word with a kiss, "very -- very -- much."

She climbed off of his lap and let him lead her on shaky legs to his bedroom.


She'd always known that Mulder liked nice things -- one had only to look at the way he dressed to know that -- but the bed was a sensual delight. The softest sheets she'd ever felt. A feather-light duvet, and downy pillows.

All surrounded by boxes of who-knew-what, which was also very Mulder. She suppressed a smile against his shoulder as he bent to undo her bra from under her sweater. He knelt before her as she sat on the edge of the bed, lit only by a dim bedside lamp.

"Who's your decorator?" she asked at random. Now he was unbuttoning her jeans and running his palms along the outsides of her thighs. She barely knew what she was saying.

Mulder barely knew, either. "Huh?" he rasped as he reached her ankles and unzipped her boots, pulling each off and massaging her insteps. She bit back a gasp and arched her back.

"Oooh, I like that reflex," Mulder said, raising his head. "Do that again." He stroked her instep and she arched her back, not entirely reflexively. He reached up under her pants legs and peeled down her socks.

"Come here," she said in a voice she barely recognized as her own. He sat back on his heels so she could pull his sweater and tee shirt off. She ran her hands over his bare chest, enjoying the crisp feel of his chest hair, contrasted with the smooth skin of his arms and the surprise of his rigid nipples, very responsive to her touch.

He reciprocated, pulling her sweater and bra off in one go and cupping her breasts in his large, warm hands. His thumbs brushed over her nipples once, then again. Scully arched into his hands, dropping her head down to nuzzle the top of his head as he leaned down to suckle first one breast, then the other.

She lay back on the bed and watched Mulder pull her jeans off, then get up to strip off the rest of his clothes. In the half-light he looked like a bronze model, beautifully defined and amazingly wellproportioned. She could willingly gaze at him all

He was staring at her. She almost squirmed at his rapt attention.

"You're wearing a thong," he said in a voice of wonder.

"Yeah," she agreed huskily.

Without another word he crawled onto the bed next to her. He gathered her into his arms and kissed her, then released her to begin a journey with hands and lips down her body.

His hands stroked her sides and back, down to her thighs. One warm hand cupped the juncture of her thighs, pressing his palm against her rhythmically, but going no further.

His mouth trailed past her lips and under her chin, down her throat to her collarbones and shoulders, then down to her breasts where he spent a long time getting more acquainted.

She was trembling all over. She had no control over it. Mulder couldn't help but notice. He stopped and asked, "Are you cold?"

She shook her head, biting her bottom lip.


Another emphatic shake of her head. He was petrified, but he didn't want her to be.

"What, then?"

She stared up at him with longing. "Want you," she said. "Just want you so much."

"You, too," he said, and helped to remove her underwear, then he hitched her leg over his flank. She reached for him and helped guide him into her at last.

He watched her eyes grow even wider and darker as he began the slow slide into her depths. It was like nothing he'd ever felt or even imagined feeling before. She was perfect, a warm, rippling, welcoming home not just for his body, but for his soul. He felt them twining together, even as Scully twined her legs around his hips and he began to slide completely into her body, inextricably bound to her in all ways now.

It was almost impossible to withdraw from her, yet he had to. She kept him tethered to her as he began to move up and back, up and back, relishing the exquisite friction of his skin against hers.

She'd stopped trembling as soon as he'd entered her, and began a new movement, an undulation of her hips and inner body that both sought him and freed him.

He could feel her climax around him and increased his pace, listening to her breath catch and feeling the grip of her hands on his biceps. She was still coming as he felt his own convulsive ascent. He buried his face in her neck as his hips jerked and jerked against her, finally coming to rest as relaxed as a rag doll.

They were breathing in unison, her chest rising and falling against his. He realized he was likely crushing her and reluctantly rolled away. He was gratified that her hands reached for him and held him as he rolled to his side, taking Scully with him.

He thought of all the Christmasses he'd spent alone, as child and man, all the things he'd yearned for and never received. None of that mattered now. He held the best gift he'd ever get in his arms right now.

Scully looked up at Mulder and his expression filled her with love and sadness. He looked so content, and she was glad she'd helped give him that. She was sorry that she'd never seen that look before, and vowed that she would see it in the future, as often as she could.

Mulder, half-dozing, reached for her as she reluctantly got out of bed.

"Where're you goin'?" he asked in a sleep-slurred voice.

"Nature calls," she whispered, dropping a kiss on his nose.

She was back in a minute, huddling under the covers. She had something in her hand that rustled softly. "You didn't open your present," she said.

Mulder opened one eye. "Got my gift already," he said, stroking her skin and setting new ripples of desire rolling through her.

"I think you should open it anyway," she said, handing it over.

He sat up, propping the pillows so he could put his arm around her while he unwrapped the package. It made the unwrapping difficult, but he was all about challenges.

It was a pair of boxers, red and green plaid flannel.

"Sex-ay," he said with a smile.

"Well, I think so," Scully said. "If I have any say in what you wear under your clothes, I vote for these. Though I do owe the women of the clerical pool a thank you note, I think."

"I was thinking of thanking them myself," Mulder said.

"No way, G-Man. I want them to know that I'm the one who gets to see them on if anyone does."

"I do like the way you think, G-Woman." He kissed her deeply. "If you asked me to walk naked through the lobby of the Hoover Building, I'd consider it."

"That's just because you're an exhibitionist," she said.

"If you've got it, flaunt it," he said.

"Is that a dare, Agent Mulder?" she purred, eyebrow arched.

"Maybe that'll be your birthday present," he said with a smile.


I started this as a challenge fic two years ago, but it was ridiculously late when I realized I wasn't going to finish it. I've resurrected it here, with some "bonus material" for a holiday smut biscuit.

I hope you enjoyed this bit of holiday fluff! Whatever you celebrate, enjoy yourself, and best wishes from me to you!

ML/ msnsc21@aol.com

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