|
Juggling four very full grocery bags, and her apartment keys, Scully
bumped into her front door with a dull thud. Carefully balancing the bags
in her left hand, she blindly poked her key at the lock with her right,
accompanied by Mulder's leering statement "I never have that problem,
Scully," echoing in her mind.
Bastard.
Never would have occurred to him to come out here and help me, she
thought as she finally lurched through the door. Scully kicked the door
shut then hauled her load to the kitchen, depositing it on the table with a
light grunt. The hiss from her shower revealed the whereabouts of her
partner.
"Mulder, I'm back," she called from just inside the bathroom door.
"Be out in a few, unless you want to jump in here and give me a hand."
"And that will speed up things how, Mulder?" Scully replied with humor
in her voice.
"Fine, don't scrub my back, but you better be making my dinner,
woman," Mulder stated in his very bad rendition of a redneck.
"Yes, dear," Scully smirked in return as she casually strolled over to the
commode and flushed.
______________________________________________________
Finished with the onions, Scully began to dice the peppers for the
chicken enchiladas she was preparing for dinner. They decided to spend
the weekend in her apartment with no set agenda other than spending
some time together and relaxing, something which they had little chance
to do. Scully enjoyed cooking but rarely had the opportunity to cook for
anyone other than herself, so home-made Mexican food would be a
welcome change from their usual on-the-run, fast food fare.
While Scully was searching for corn tortillas in the refrigerator, she was
startled by a muffled thump, the shattering of glass, and then Mulder's
loud yelp of "SCULLY!" coming from the bathroom. Slamming the door
shut, she rushed to the bathroom to find shattered glass all over the floor
and Mulder in the shower, still under the spray, his hands covering his
genitals, with blood streaming down his legs.
"Oh my God, Mulder, what happened?" a very shocked Scully asked
while grabbing a towel.
"Damn bar of soap slipped out of my hand and hit the door," he
answered, his voice shaking. "At first, I didn't think I had been injured,
but then I felt a bit of burning and I looked down and saw blood
everywhere."
Scully leaned inside and turned the water off. She kneeled down beside
him. "Let me see where you're cut." Mulder swallowed as he slowly
pulled his hands away, looking down at Scully, his face ashen. She
carefully blotted away the blood, afraid that the glass had cut his penis
or scrotum. Wounds to the male genitalia often bled profusely. The
danger of massive blood loss was a very real possibility.
"Please tell me that I'm not going to need to have something sewed back
on, Scully," Mulder moaned while she conducted her examination. As
much as he loved the feel of her hands on this very sensitive part of his
body, this was a rare time that he did not respond to her touch.
"Looks like you're cut on the crease of your thigh, right next to your
scrotum. It's a small cut, not very deep. It bled quite a bit, but it doesn't
appear to be serious. I think simple compression and a band aid should
take care of it," she reassured.
"Thank God," Mulder sighed.
"Here. Keep this pressed into the wound," Scully said as she handed
him the towel.
"I need to get all this broken glass swept up. Be back in a minute," she
told him, then left to get the broom and dustpan.
Mulder watched Scully quickly sweep the broken glass into a pile. He
was leaning up against the back wall of the shower, towel pressed tightly
to his groin, his legs trembling, praying he wouldn't pass out. Finished
sweeping, she reached for his hand.
"Come, sit on the commode and put your head down. You look
shocky."
He sat as instructed, not sure if his wooziness was due to blood loss or
pure fear.
"Stumpy Mulder just doesn't have the same ring to it as Spooky, does it,
Scully?" Mulder laughed.
"No it doesn't , Mulder," Scully replied, placing a wet washcloth on the
back of his neck. "You do have to admit it was rather spooky, how that
bar of soap slipped out of your hand at the correct angle and velocity to
hit the shower door and break it."
"Guess I shouldn't quit my day job, then." Mulder grinned at her.
"No." Scully laughed. "Let's get you patched up."
______________________________________________________
"I think we got it all swept up, Mulder," Scully said as she rose with dust
pan in hand.
"So much for spending the weekend locked in your apartment, naked,"
a dejected Mulder stated, while he nervously bounced the broom about.
"I don't think the weekend will be a complete loss. I am a doctor, you
know," she teased as she dumped the last of the shards in the trash then
relieving him of the broom.
"Well, tonight is a complete bust. Literally," he said with a rather
disappointed tone in his voice.
"The important thing is that you're okay," Scully whispered as she
wound her hands around his waist and placed a lingering kiss on his
neck. Mulder nodded, and returned her embrace, holding her tight
against him. Gazing into each others' eyes, they shared a long, very non-
platonic kiss.
"I see everything is functioning normally," Scully whispered, brushing her
hand across the front of his hips.
"Scully..." Mulder warned, directing her hand away.
"It's okay. We are both intelligent adults; I think we can figure something
out," she assured with a huge smile on her face, grasping him by his
index finger and leading him to her bedroom.
______________________________________________________
Scully is draped across his chest, almost asleep, while Mulder's mind is
refusing to allow him the same repose. His mind has formulated
numerous questions that it wants answers for. Is that the only sex toy
you own? How long have you had it? How often do you use it? Do you
have one that runs on batteries? Do you use it and think about me? Do
you think of someone else? If yes, who is he? Or perhaps it is a she?
Can I watch you play by yourself sometime?
"Scully?" he murmurs into her hair, his hand traveling the length of her
spine.
"Hmm?" she mumbles into his skin.
"What are we going to do about fixing your shower door?" he inquires
while his hand makes a slight detour down to her thigh.
"I'll call the building super in the morning. No Biggie," she snuffles into
his sternum.
"You like pancakes, Scully?"
"Of course I do. Why do you ask?"
"I'm gonna cook them for you. Feed you breakfast in bed."
She rises up to look him in the eye.
"Since when do you know how to make pancakes?"
Mulder formulates his reply while meeting her gaze with a look of mock
offense.
"I can cook. Possession of a Y chromosome plus chronic bachelorhood
do not always equal a lack of culinary skills. And I never miss an
episode of The Naked Chef," he adds with an eyebrow waggle.
Smiling and settling back into her original position, Scully ponders his
offer.
"Mulder, promise me one thing."
"What?"
"That you'll wear your pants while preparing said pancakes."
"Scully, The Naked Chef isn't really naked."
"I know. And I also know you. So let's play it safe, please, just for me?"
"Okay, no tempting of fate in the morning, but I get to be naked when I
feed you."
"Deal."
______________________________________________________
Trust and respect should never be considered mundane.
|
