„I bet the air in my mouth tastes better“ I dare you to write what you said in your tags 😎😉
Thank you! You can find my original tags and the post that inspired this ficlet HERE. Imagine the beginning of “The Unnatural” had gone slightly different… tagging @today-in-fic
(I borrowed heavily from the actual dialogue. Sorry, DD.)
Maybe it’s because of the way Mulder looks ather. Or maybe it’s much simpler than that; maybe it’s just because it’sSaturday. Or… or maybe there is no reason at all. All she knows that her nonfatTofutti rice dreamsicle starts it all.
“I bet the air in my mouth tastes betterthan that,” he says, returning his attention to the large book in front ofhim. Scully takes another bite, cherishes the taste on her tongue. She licksher lip, watching him.
“Well, I don’t know,” she says,“I’d have to try it. For comparison.” She takes another bite to stop her heart from pounding. Mulder turns to her, doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. His face sayseverything.
She shrugs. “You know how much I like proof.I bet that my nonfat Tofutti rise dreamsicle tastes better than the air in yourmouth.” Her eyes flit to his lips briefly before she brings them back upto meet his. There’s a challenge there.
“All right.” He gets up and for amoment she forgets that she’s standing on boxes. Mulder catches her before shefalls, his hands firmly planted on her hips. He leaves them there, doesn’t moveat all. Their bodies are close, much closer than she anticipated and she giveshim a sheepish smile, her cheeks warming from embarrassment.
“So how do we-” She should have knownthat he doesn’t need to think about it. No rules. No hesitation. His mouthlands on hers and in her surprise, she gasps, opening her mouth. That’s all theinvitation Mulder needs. His tongue plunges inside and tangles with hers. Shetries to keep a clear head, to not lose herself in Mulder’s touch, in histaste. That’s what it’s all about. His taste. But she can’t think. His mouth onhers feels perfect; it feels right. She’s never felt so hungry. She wants more.Needs more.
Then, just as quickly as the kiss began, it’sover. She licks her bottom lip, needing to taste the last trace of Mulder. Hewatches her, his eyes full of hunger. His pupils are dilated and Scully iscertain that hers are, too.
“What’s the verdict?” he asks, soundinghoarse. They’re still standing close. He’s still holding her. Scully doesn’t know what happened to thedreamsicle. It might have melted in her hands, or on the floor. She’d beenlooking forward to that treat all morning. Now she’s had a taste of somethingmuch, much better. And she’s still very, very hungry.
“You were right,” she says, keeping hervoice calm and steady. As steady as she can, anyway. “The air in yourmouth does taste better.”
He beams at her, leaning in again but she knowsthey can’t do this. Not here, not now. Saturday or not, this is still theiroffice. When his lips almost touch hers again, she stops him with her words:
“So Mulder, now that we’ve established thatyou were right, care to enlighten me why we’re here in the basement on thisprecious Saturday? What do you hope to find in these New Mexico newspaperobituaries for the years 1940 to 1949?”
He doesn’t step back. His face is close, hislips are closer. “Looking for anomalies, Scully. Do you know how manyso-called "flying disc” reports there were in New Mexico in the1940s?“
"I don’t care, Mulder,” she says andmeans it. She should have just eaten her dreamsicle in peace. “This is aneedle in a haystack. These poor souls have been dead for 50 years. Let themrest in peace. Let sleeping dogs lie.”
“Hm, hurling clichés at me, Scully?”His voice sounds just like his kiss tasted. She shudders, wanting more.“Preparation is the father of inspiration.” The words land smack onher lips and her mind is slow to catch up.
“Necessity is the mother of invention,”she says weakly. Mulder is everywhere. His mouth, histouch, his words.
“The road to excess leads to the palace ofwisdom.”
“Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow wemay die.”
“You’re so right,” he whispers,catching her off guard and capturing her lips. She isn’t sure who’s won the game and for once, she doesn’t care.
