TITLE:  Resting Beside Me (1/1)
AUTHOR: Shoshana
EMAIL ADDRESS: shoshana1013@excite.com
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Gossamer, Spookys site, Xemplary, etc.
SPOILER WARNING: None
RATING: PG
CONTENT STATEMENT:
CLASSIFICATION: VR
KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully UST
SUMMARY:  Mulder watches Scully sleep beside him.
DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to me.
NOTE: This is an authorized sequel to Zephathah's story "Waking in
Fere."  Thanks for letting me play with your Mulder and Scully,
Zephathah.  Thanks to my great beta readers Char, Meggo and Teresa.



Resting Beside Me
By Shoshana


Scully's in my bed.

She fell asleep next to me last night, dozing off during "The Blues
Brothers."  I think she meant to fall asleep here, so I wouldn't worry
about her.  Well, turnabout is fair play.  I crawled into her bed the
other night; she has every right to be here in mine.

She snores.  Not bad snoring.  Sweet little expirations that hardly fit
the true definition of snoring- a rough, hoarse, nasal sound made while
sleeping.  That's not Scully.  It's definitely not how I would define
those gentle wheezes emanating from her.

She'd shoot me if she knew I was thinking about this.  Best to keep it
to myself, a secret nobody else will ever know.  Except, maybe her Mom.
 But I'm not jealous of her.  I'd only be envious if it were some other
guy, because I intend to keep Scully for myself.

Now, I know how that sounds.  Macho, possessive shit from someone who
has barely declared his affection for her.  But I think she knows how I
feel, and that's why she's never surprised at my goofy behavior.  Like
when I had to sleep next to her the other night, just to make sure she
was still drawing every breath she ought to.

I hope the reason she came over here last night has less to do with
making sure I'd get a good night's sleep.  I hope part of it has to do
with the way she feels about me.  I haven't been able to completely read
her feelings yet, but I think she cares more for me than she lets on.  I
think she's trying to maintain our friendship at a certain level, never
crossing over that line between platonic, and well, not platonic.

Fat chance she'll have now.  I can't resist her.  Sooner or later, I'm
going to break down and kiss her.  Not on her lips.  Not yet.  But
somewhere soft and smooth.  Somewhere that leaves no doubt how I feel
about her.  But also leaves it up to her to make the next move.  No
pressure.  Just a casual kiss... casual, yet one she won't easily
forget.

Right now, she's using my left shoulder as a pillow.  I can feel her
breath softly tickling my Adam's apple.  Her arm lies on my stomach,
gently clutching my cotton T-shirt with her delicate fingernails.  My
left arm lies beneath her slumbering weight, numb from inactivity.  I
don't mind at all.  I'd rather walk around all day with a sore limb than
displace her now.

It's dawn and the light continues to build in intensity as it streams
through the slats of the motel miniblinds.  The brighter it gets, the
better Scully looks to me.  Well, she always looks fine to me.  More
than fine, actually.  Absolutely beautiful.  I ought to let her know
sometime.

I try to let her know occasionally, telling her how nice she looks when
I see her at the beginning of our day.  Not very often, though.  I don't
want her to know just how much attention I pay to every detail that is
Scully.  She'd probably slug me if she caught me staring at her.  So
surreptitious glances are all I allow myself anymore.

But times like these, when I know she's definitely out of it, I let
myself gaze at her all I like.  I count her lashes like other people
count sheep.  Except I never get tired of looking at her feathery,
feminine lashes.  Here in bed, without makeup to cover any of her lovely
features, she's most beautiful to me.

Freckles scatter across her pale cheeks; her tiny mole lies exposed to
me, so delicate, so alluring.  She covers all that with foundation every
day, hiding these precious 'imperfections' from the rest of the world.
At least I get to enjoy her this way, sleeping comfortably beside me.

I wish I could shower her with kisses, cover every inch of her unmade-up
face with my love.  But it's too soon for that.  Way too soon.  She'd be
scared off by that.  I have to do something subtle, something she won't
reject, she won't think is too much too soon.

She's changing position!  Oh, God, I hope she's not waking yet...  Whew!
 She's just turning over on her left side, her head still pillowed on my
arm.  She's subconsciously become aware of the sunshine streaming
through those blinds and adjusted herself accordingly.

Slowly, carefully, I turn my body, aligning myself to her new position.
 I miss her warmth, and I try to snuggle as close as I can without
waking her.  My hand curves round her hip; my knees find her shins,
pressing softly against her warm, smooth skin.

She shifts again, bringing her tiny feet toward me, rubbing my legs in
her sleep.  She doesn't seem conscious of what she's doing.  If she
were, she might move away, so I pray to some deity above that she
continues to slumber next to me.

I've got to think of some way to tell her how much she means to me.
Some way that won't frighten her off, make her stop sleeping with me
like this.  The love and trust she showed me when she found me in her
bed the other day carried over to last night.  I won't violate that
confidence in me by making this more than she wants for now.

I have an idea, but I have to wait till she awakens in her own good
time.  Meanwhile, I return to my task at hand, memorizing every inch of
her, cataloguing every line, every curve in my Scully library.  So I can
daydream any time of day, borrowing her beauty, chasing away the boring,
the unbearable of daily life.  It's nice to have an excellent memory at
times like these.  I want to remember every minute we spend like this,
spooned in my bed, warm and comfortable in the morning sunlight.

Oh, she's waking up... Damn...

I move my hand from her hip to her stomach, preventing her from fleeing,
if she even tries to.  I hear a soft laugh and feel one of her hands
join mine, fingers interlacing with my own.

"I'm not going anywhere," she whispers.

I am at a loss of words.  I wasn't prepared for that.  I was ready for
that business-like tone from yesterday morning.  So I decline to speak
and just draw closer to her, letting my senses go into overdrive with
her scent, the sultry sound of her voice, the feel of her warmth next to
mine.

With the caution of a man scaling a precipice, I gently nuzzle the back
of her neck.  Then, with even more care, I lay soft kisses there; not
too many, not too few.  I can feel her body shiver against mine; I know
she can sense the slight tremble in my own limbs.

Without a word, she pulls both of my arms tightly around her, then turns
her head ever so slightly, exposing more of her pale-skinned neck.
Tentatively, I brush my nose against the sensitive skin there.  Then,
emboldened by her sweet sigh, I gently kiss her, trailing all the way to
her small rounded ear.  I kiss that, too and am rewarded with another
soft, subtle sound.

I hardly know what to do now.  I hadn't even planned on this much.  I
don't want to rush into things now.  I just want to hold her close, I
just want to kiss her this way all day.  I know I should be highly
aroused, I should be trying to make love to her.  But it's not right for
us now, I know that.  So, I continue to hold her, continue to nuzzle her
softly.  And she continues to sigh.

fin

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