Title: She Wants You
Archives: Spookies, Gossamer, Ephemeral are okay. Others, please ask.
Spoilers: Not a one.
Rating: PG for subject matter.
Classification: ScullySlash. Scully's POV. Vignette.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. CC, 1013 and Fox have the sole rights to their existence. Dammit!
Summary: There's someone new in the mix.
Thanks to Rochel who continues to stick with me. Hugs.
Note: This is the eighth story in the series and take place after 'Insomnia'. At this point in the series, I think it is necessary for you to have some background information from the other stories set in the Beach Blanket Bingo Universe. All the stories are relatively short, so if you want to read them to get caught up, please, be my guest. Go here: http://scullyfu.populli.net/
"She wants you."
Her voice sounds slightly excited, but I'm not really tuned in. We're following our near nightly ritual of watching Jeopardy and I assume she's providing an answer, although not in the form of a question. We'd both be disqualified if we were on the real show; we usually just blurt out the answers and never bother about making them into questions.
There was a bit of a chill in the air when we got in tonight, and rather than turning up the thermostat, we started a fire. Even though it's just now eight, we're both in our pajamas, content to just relax in the comfort of my apartment for the rest of the evening. It's my first night off since Mulder and I were temporarily re-assigned. Mel is sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of me. I'm above her, perched on the edge of the couch cushion, brushing her freshly washed hair. My legs surround her shoulders and my bare feet rest on her thighs.
"Did you hear me?" she asks while keeping her eyes focused straight ahead, watching Alex shake hands with the winner.
"Yes, but I wasn't really paying attention. Sorry. Did you get the final answer right?" I've been concentrating on silently counting the number of times I've run the brush through her hair. "Ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred! There sweetie, all done." I place a kiss on top of her head to punctuate my statement.
Turning around to face me, she supports her elbows on my knees while her behind is propped against her heels. "She wants you."
"Was that an answer?" I'm quickly becoming confused and also wondering what I'm missing about the importance of a single Jeopardy question.
"No," she says. "That woman."
She rolls her eyes at my obtuseness. "Today."
"Mel, please stop being so damned cryptic. I obviously have no idea what you're talking about, so can we please drop the twenty questions?"
She looks slightly annoyed, but takes a calming breath and begins again. "I'm talking about that Reyes chick who was in the cafeteria today." She pauses before repeating the now familiar mantra. "She wants you."
"Reyes chick?" I try not to laugh out loud, but am only halfway successful. "Where did that come from?"
"Come on." Her eyes twinkle mischievously. "You had to notice the way she was looking at you. Those intense smoldering eyes boring into yours."
I counter with logic. "Eye contact is a good communication technique. You should know that."
"Well, there's eye contact and then there's eye contact." She forces her eyes to open wide. "Know what I mean?"
"For goodness sake, Mel. You're reading way too much into a casual conversation. She stopped at our table only to be polite and acknowledge that she saw me."
"I know what I saw, Dana. She's definitely got the hots for you."
"You're not serious?" I laugh.
She skooches up to her knees and gently pushes me, pinning me against the back of the couch, her hands on either side of me. Our faces are just far enough apart that our eyes don't cross. "Okay," she smirks, "then how do you explain the body language?"
"What body language?" This really is too much. If it weren't so ridiculous, it'd be pitiful.
"The way she stood facing you, the way she reached out and touched your arm, the smiles. Jesus, the smiles; I thought her face was going to crack."
A sobering thought strikes me. "You don't think she knows, do you?"
She groans and drops her head momentarily. "Not again. No. I don't think she knows. No one knows, Dana."
"I don't know, you seem to think she's interested. Maybe she's found out somehow."
"She doesn't know squat. Relax."
"But, she *feels* things."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean? She *feels* things."
"I mean, she has these *feelings* about things and people. Maybe she picked up something between us."
"You mean by gaydar?"
"Gaydar, Dana, gaydar." My stupefied demeanor must have given me away because she goes on to explain. "Gaydar is like radar only it has to do with being able to pick out other gays. Gaydar. Get it?" She looks hopeful.
The light in my head flips on. "Oh," I say, my brain suddenly illuminated with the new information, "gaydar. Okay, I get it now." She looks relieved. "Sorry, I'm new here, remember?"
"Yeah, yeah, but I love you anyway." She gives me a sweet, reassuring kiss.
"Maybe she's seen us together before."
"Dana, I've never seen her before. You had to introduce us, remember?"
"But she could have seen us and never come over before."
"Look. Anything is possible. But I don't think it's probable. We don't even eat together at work except maybe once a week. And I believe you said she works out of New Orleans. Right?" I nod to indicate she's correct in her memories. "So, it's doubtful she would have even had the opportunity to see us. Right?" There's that hopeful look again.
"You're right. I'm just being paranoid."
"You've got to try to relax, honey. You're seeing things that aren't there."
"Me? You're the one who said she has the hots for me."
"She does." It's my turn to roll my eyes. "She never took her eyes off you, Dana."
"Yes she did. When I introduced you."
"Yeah, for as long as it took to give me a cursory smile and a nod. Beyond that, she was all about you, baby."
I decide to go on the offensive. "Don't tell me you're jealous of someone I see at work occasionally?"
She seems taken aback at the suggestion; her face reflects her surprise. "Jeal-ous?" She pronounces it as though it's two words and rocks back on her heels. "I'm just making an observation."
"Uh huh," I tease. "I think you are a bit jealous."
"Why would I be?"
"Well, you're the one--"
"Who brought it up. I know." She rises and sits next to me. "Hey, I just call 'em like I see 'em."
I adjust my position so I am sitting up straight. "Me, too."
Casually, she throws her arm over my shoulder and cocks her head in my direction. Her voice betrays her; she sounds a bit unsure. "Do I have a reason to be jealous?"
I turn my head to meet her gaze. What I see scares me. I've caused her to doubt me, which is the last thing in the world I would ever want to do. "Of course not," I assure her. "Sweetie, I'm so in love with you, I wouldn't know someone was hitting on me if they used a baseball bat."
She releases a nervous chuckle, but never breaks our visual connection. When she speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper. "If I kiss you, will you kiss be back?"
Without hesitation, the tone of my voice matching hers, I answer, "Kiss me and find out." And then, as though the moment has been choreographed, we each move slowly forward. The small sheet of air between us surges electric. Her warm breath washes over mine. With a seductive smile, she nuzzles my nose with Eskimo kisses. "She wants you."
"I'm already taken."
We are so close it's hard to focus. My eyes shut and I feel each millimeter erased; finally, our lips meet. Softly, gently they caress; pull and press, tug and nibble. Like new lovers, they flirt and tease. And like the kindling struck by the match, we ignite.
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On to part 9, Moment of Doubt