I wrote this for a friend on LJ. Enjoy!

-Dru

;

"You…um…the tea…Mulder."

She was unable to develop a full sentence without it being chopped apart by her laughter. I love making Scully laugh. I like watching as a grin tugs at the corners of her mouth. I like it when 'Mulder' is coated with a giggle. My name always seems to evoke laughter in her these days. Whether it be those times in the office where she's smiling and shaking her head and making excuses to read over my shoulder or where it's merely in her eyes. When the laughter dances there in her gaze.

I've been watching her and not the pot in my hand. The clay cup nestled in her hands is overflowing and staining the table cloth. She reaches out to clutch my wrist and I set the pot down.

"Would you like some fresh tea?" a fidgety waitress is quick to dot on us. I can tell it's either her first day or she had just had an unfortunate encounter with authority. Scully surprises me. She's still laughing.

"No…thank you," she uses the napkin from her lap to mop up the mess. "We were just getting ready to go." We were? I slip a five dollar bill on the table. The waitress smiles appreciatively and scurries away. Scully stands up.

"Muuulder," she says. Her voice is gentle and breath feels sweet against my cheek as she leans closer to me. Dinner was her idea. Sometimes when she looks at me like that I can feel her lips against mine. She smells like vanilla. She's warm. She's Scully. I am unsure on how to answer her, the images in my head leaving me in a timid, playful state. Oh Scully. I wish I could tell you that when your hair lies damp on your shoulders I feel safe. More than ever I feel like you're letting me in. We step out into the cool, January air. I rub my pinky finger over her knuckles.

"That was nice."

"I thought so too," she lulls gently, our heavy dinner of pasta and an assortment of breads having left her full and happy. I let out a long, held in breath as her small hand curls around mine. Her fingers rub at the bottom of my palm.

"Thank you."

;

I stood at her door at exactly 6:30. Being on time is an occurrence that's few and far between and Scully doesn't fail to bring it to my attention. But I find her huffy and irritated.

"Nothings going right today," she says as I step into her apartment. "Nothing!" She shoves a wad of mail off the sofa so I can sit down. I can stick a smart ass smirk on my face.

"Name one thing that isn't going right," I antagonize gently, bypassing the sofa and following her to the kitchen. She turns to me.

"My hair," she snaps.

"What's wrong with your hair?"

"It doesn't look the way I want it," her whine is tired and uncharacteristic. She runs a hand through her mess of red. I love how it looks. I love all of her. A dress of forest green. A full pout set upon her lips.

"Just wet it," I say. "It looks fine the way it is." I can tell she doesn't like the way she's feeling. Her faucet springs to life as I turn the knob and motion for her. I await full resistance but she follows and sticks her head under the warmed flow of water.

"Don't get my dress wet Mulder," she growls as I thread my fingers through her hair. A dark mahogany when wet. It takes every ounce of self control I have to resist kissing the back of her neck. "And if I die from hypothermia it's all on you."

"Please stop talking," I growl back. Tracing circles along her scalp evokes a small sound of appreciation. She loves this more then she's comfortable admitting and flooding the silence with words is the only way she knows how to cope. I turn off the faucet and squeeze excess water from her hair. It curls when the air hits it. I think of that kiss on New Years. A mere week ago. I remember the gentle way she looked at me.

We're standing on the sidewalk now; her hand is teases mine for a minute until it finally settles. A minute ago I wanted to attack her mouth with mine. Trail kisses up her neck. A sense of warmth washes over me now. She looks up at me with those familiar eyes. The way she looked at me on New Years.

"Do you want to do breakfast Mulder?"

"I can do breakfast Scully," I smile. Her hair is damp against my face as I rest my head against hers. "Can you bring the coffee?" She laughs and the giddiness falls heavy in my chest.

I squeeze Scully tightly. She presses a kiss to my cheek. I nuzzle her temple.

I hold Scully's hand.