TITLE: Everything But The Girl
AUTHOR: Anne Hedonia
CATEGORY: DSR, Christmas Fluff - *THE* Fluffiest. No nutrition whatsoever.
RATING: Oh, what do *you* think? NC-17
SUMMARY:  Scully and Doggett want the same thing for Christmas.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've always wanted to write a fic based on the following pair
of song lyrics, which is one of my favorites.  Here it is (and there they
are, below.)

Also, my fic tends to live in a world where Mulder obeyed a General Rule of
the Universe, and remained dead.

SPOILERS: Nary a one.
WEBSITE: http://annehedonia.populli.net
FEEDBACK: I gobble it more readily than holiday dinner. ahedonia@yahoo.com.

-------------------

"Every day's like Christmas Day without you
It's cold and there's nothing to do."

- Everything But The Girl, "Come On Home"

-------------------


Dana Scully was not easily bored.

After nearly a decade of a job that would prematurely age James Bond, and
after days on said job where she experienced more in 24 hours than most
people would in several lifetimes (take *that*, U.S. Army), boredom was
generally no longer a problem.  Indeed, to Scully, inactivity had become a
blessing, lack of emergency a miracle, long, slow days a gift from a very
generous God.

But the fact remained that right now...she was bored.

And not just 'bored'. Boooooooored. Almost completely unable to stand her
current surroundings.

She shifted in her large, admittedly-comfortable armchair, and warmed her
left hand on the ceramic coffee mug she held. The living room had already
been compulsively neatened by her mother; the bright melee of this morning's
wrapping paper hardly had a chance to hit the carpet before her mother was
scooping it up into trash bags, and storing the bows and ribbons in large
shirt boxes for next year.  Scully's mouth quirked as she wondered if her
mother had categorized them by color and/or size as well, or if she had them
earmarked for gifts she'd somehow already acquired for next year - she
wouldn't be the least bit surprised, if so.  Her mother always apologized
profusely for being such a fussbudget, for not being able to relax.but it
never stopped her from fussing, all the same.

Scully looked across the wide living room, to people and furnishings as
familiar to her as her own skin.  She watched Bill and Tara playing with
their newest baby in the low, warm lamplight, the sunlight having already
succumbed an hour or so before to early December darkness.  Charlie
roughhoused with his two little boys, with plenty of room to do so.

When she had driven up earlier, she'd reflected on how glad she was her
mother had wound up living in this house. Her parents had moved to this
sprawling place after Ahab retired, and it was a comfortable bit of earned
luxury after years of austere base housing.  It commanded a wide lot, and
was approached via country roads that were snow-covered now, lush and green
otherwise.  A short driveway led straight to the garage, above which sat the
kitchen.  The whole thing was built partially into a hill, leaving one side
buttressed by a rolling expanse while the other was propped by stilts - the
view from the "stilted" side looked out over the nearest neighbors from a
lofty height.

Scully glanced to her left, where a movie played on the VCR, half-watched -
"The Great Race", starring Tony Curtis, Jack Lemmon and Natalie Wood.  It
was The Official Scully Family Movie, her father's perennial great, shining
example of how Hollywood *could* make really good movies "without all the
swearing and the sex and the violence, if they wanted to!"  Her smile was
bittersweet as she reflected that, while she still missed Ahab and Missy,
the love and unity of the family had grown over the spaces they'd left,
making their absence more nostalgic, less painful.

All of this usually made Scully feel safe, made her relish the sameness in a
world that seemed to have few guarantees.

And right now, if one particular set of circumstances presented itself, she
would bolt the scene in a hummingbird's heartbeat.

All because of one moment in a parking lot, day before yesterday. She turned
toward a nearby window, looked at her own reflection and sighed.

-------------------

John Doggett had sworn the food at the diner near his house was as good or
better than home cooking, and he hadn't been wrong.  Scully had had to
concentrate on eating her pot roast without letting her eyes actually roll
back in her head.

She'd watched John gleefully order chicken-fried steak, and rub his hands
together happily when it arrived, as though the cholesterol didn't matter
when it came from a magical place like this.  She'd smiled to herself.

He'd caught it. "What?"

She quickly attended to her meal, barely stifling her grin. "Nothing."

His own signature crooked grin had formed, as he gestured to his steaming
food.  "What, this? Ah, it's okay.  I'll run it off tomorrow."

Scully had nodded silently as her eyes had roamed Doggett's chest and
shoulders.  >I believe him,< she'd thought, >Can't say the man doesn't keep
in shape.<

She closed her eyes.  Was he noticing, these days?  Was she completely
obvious?  And if she was.was it really such a bad thing?

She'd sighed and skewered a warm, perfectly-roasted piece of carrot with her
fork.  She felt shaky all over.  She was doing it.

She was admitting her feelings, and letting whatever happened...happen.

This was the fourth non-case-related dinner they'd had out, not that she was
counting.  For as long as she could remember, Doggett had always thrown
suggestions for outings into their conversation.  "I'll have to show ya, one
of these days..." was a familiar refrain in her auditory memory, always in
his
gravel voice and that weird mutt of an accent he used.  Finally Scully had
decided that "one of these days" was here, and had asked for a time when
they could visit that Cuban place he'd just mentioned.  The pleased surprise
on Doggett's face had not been overt, but had nonetheless confirmed for her
the step she was taking.  Like she hadn't been nervous enough at the time.

But, all work and no Mulder - for a couple of years now - was making Scully
a dull girl.  And a potential old maid.  Time had come to move on.

Despite her nervousness, she'd felt her moving on was in good hands.

She'd looked at John over the table, as he tucked his napkin - *actually
tucked his napkin* into the neck of his gray t-shirt and cut into his
repast.  >John Doggett,< she'd smirked.  >My moving man.<

The various mental tangents that phrase conjured had filled her with fear,
nervousness, and made her want to squirm with guilty excitement against the
seat of the booth.

Jesus, it had all been too long.

She'd sipped her coffee while he'd eaten his piece of pecan pie in four or
five bites.  She remembered how much she liked to watch men eat - certain
men, the ones who ate like little boys, no matter how old they got.

Walking out to the parking lot was not supposed to have been any big event.
She had not seen anything on the horizon.  Her instincts had evidently
withered up and died.

At her car, she'd turned to face him.  "Well," he'd drawled, slowly curling
that smile that had just recently started affecting her knees. "Guess this
is the last I'll see of you for a little while, till after you get home from
your mom's."

She'd nodded absently.  "Yes, I guess so."

In retrospect, the twinkle in his eyes had been a dead giveaway.

"Well then," he'd repeated, all slow moves and grinning blue-eyed thrall.
"Guess I'll have to make this goodbye count."

It had taken so long for her to process his hand stroking her hair that it
felt like almost a year before she realized he was kissing her, actually
*kissing* her - not giving her a businesslike peck or a chaste, friendly
hug, but applying his lips to hers with gentleness and surety.  Her body
seemed to know the potential of this immediately, if the sharp stab of
lightning between her legs was any indication.  >If this was the care with
which he kissed,< she thought somewhere in the depths of her most primitive
brain, >then the rest of his "repertoire" had to be...oh GOD.<

Her hands had grasped his shoulders, partially because she didn't trust
herself to stand.  He'd responded with a soft, happy noise and spanned his
hands around her lower back, pulling her closer, but still at a gentlemanly
distance.

She'd had no idea how long the kiss had lasted, and had been almost startled
to find herself back in the parking lot when it ended.  John's blue eyes
were positively glowing at her - there was no other way to put it.  He
looked about three times as happy as when his chicken fried steak had
arrived, and he'd looked pretty damn happy then.  >I beat out chicken fried
steak.< she'd thought dimly.

His hand caressed her hair again.  She realized he was smiling wider, and
then discerned that it was because her hand was on his cheek as well, aping
his gesture unconsciously.  "Hurry home?" he'd asked softly.

She nodded, her adrenaline racing so fast that she thought she could
probably run the whole trip to her mother's and back without feeling a bit
of strain.

And then she was sitting in her car, and he was walking to his, and smiling
and waving as she drove away, and then she was down the highway before she
thought to speculate how long her fingers might have been pressed
wonderingly to her lips.

Two days ago, a trip to her mother's house for Christmas would have been a
haven.

But it wasn't enough any more.  It didn't scratch the itch she had so
unexpectedly developed.

Now she was antsy, restless, unsatisfied.bored.

Or at least, "bored" was what she was choosing to call it.

-------------------

A couple of hours later, Scully gave into her restlessness and applied it to
playing on the floor with her four-year-old nephew. This placed her right
near the big sliding glass door when it happened:

A faint, abrupt >wap-tap!< against the thick glass.

Scully startled and jerked her head toward the source of the noise, and saw
nothing in the blackness outside.  Her nephew began laughing gleefully at
her sudden change in demeanor, and the fact that it had toppled the small
castle of blocks she'd been building.

She noticed and smiled gently at him, while the other half of her
consciousness dissected the situation with practiced paranoia, brain quickly
deducing its cause.  There was a tree near the window, with bare branches.
One of them must have been blown against the window.  Never mind that there
didn't seem to be much - or any - wind.  This explanation was calming her -
she was going with it.

She turned back to reconstructing her fallen tower of blocks, and fondly
watching the efforts of her nephew's burgeoning sense of logistics and
small, chubby hands. The world resumed making calm - if boring - sense.

Then it happened again: >wap-tap!<

Scully was seized with the sense that this phenomenon wanted her attention.
That everyone else in the living room was exempt from its significance, and
that she alone was expected to plunge into the drama it concealed.  A
not-unfamiliar sensation, but currently it was accompanied by an unusual
sense of fear and jittery excitement.

She felt, for some reason, that this time she was in particularly unplumbed
territory.

She looked at her nephew, and found him engrossed in his work in that
uniquely pre-school way.  She moved subtly toward the window to peer out and
down, just as the >wap-tap!< happened again, this time an inch from her
nose. She had to swallow the shriek of surprise that wanted to escape.

She pressed the side of her hand against the glass and leaned her forehead
against it, shielding her eyes from the indoor glare.

She learned the reason for her unprecedented nervousness.

Standing in the snow one story below, red-cheeked and bundled in a
predictably masculine-looking gray ski jacket, was John Doggett.  He
grimaced in playful embarrassment and held up one gloved hand, a peace
offering for startling her. From his other hand, he dropped the small
handful of pebbles he'd evidently been tossing.

He fairly radiated mischief.

Scully's eyes widened and she felt an amazed smile beginning as she laughed
softly through her nose.  Her heart began pounding out a Bo Diddly beat.

He grinned and beckoned to her with his gloved hand.  She felt the thrill
and fear of a long-absent and much more pleasant kind of espionage.

She gestured "one second", then looked around furtively, wondering how the
hell she'd excuse herself without arousing attention.

Getting more firewood from the stash in the garage, out for cinnamon rolls
for in the morning, thought she heard a raccoon in the trash - ah, that one'
d do.  She quickly explained to her mother and squelched any offers of
assistance as nonchalantly as possible.

She tried not to run through the house, threw on her coat with a maximum of
awkwardness as she simultaneously opened the kitchen-to-garage door and
double-timed it down the stairs.  She stood before the door from the garage
to the outside and tried to arrange for a demure and charmingly aloof
entrance.

She settled for remembering how to breathe and charged out into the snow.

She snuck around to the side of the house as nonchalantly as her excitement
would let her, to the place where Doggett had been...only to find him no
longer there.  She looked around, turning two full rotations. No Doggett.
She could see nothing but her own breath, which was becoming an increasingly
large cloud as her panic caused her to pant harder.

She turned around again, and all but collided with Doggett, scaring the shit
out of her.  "Blaaah!" she exclaimed, as non-collectedly as possible.

"Shhh-h-h-h!" Doggett laughed in a whisper, one finger to his lips while the
other tried to control Scully's flailing hands, which were attempting to
beat him to death.

"What were you doing lurking back there?!" Scully hissed, all outraged
relief.

Doggett tried hard to contain his amusement as he finally captured her other
wrist.  "I didn't want your family to see me, standing out in the open."  He
pulled her back among the stilts that held up the backyard deck. "This is
serious business, here," he grinned. "Can't get caught."

The glow in his face could illuminate the Astrodome.

Scully found her sense of humor, but still had to search for her breath.
"You scared me," she panted.

"Yeah," he smirked softly.  "Sorry 'bout that."  He didn't seem the least
bit repentant.

Scully realized that even Doggett's whispers were gravel-voiced - it seemed
every move he ever made was rough, honest and unconsciously sexy.  She
realized she was marveling at him through their mingled breath, and he at
her.

What happened now?  Did he know?  He smirked and gently pulled her closer,
and she let him.  Were they going to start kissing like this, without saying
anything, with barely a word exchanged?  The idea inflamed her so much she
couldn't stand it.  She realized she was becoming the mental and physical
equivalent of Jello on a rollercoaster.

Her next words were a nervous, whispered blurt.  "How did you know?"

His eyebrow rose in question.  "I've been here before, 'member?  On that one
case, where... "

"No." She shook her head. Oh God, she'd started this, now she had to tell
him.  She sighed in resignation and looked at him, knowing this kind of
honesty was necessary, safe, required for Moving On.  Or hoping so, anyway.

"When I was a teenager..." she began.  "Or...close to one, anyway...and I
used to...get crushes on boys...I would have this...fantasy..."

She blushed even pinker than the chill had already made her, and the
affection in Doggett's face rose an encouraging notch.

"...This fantasy when I was home at night, that the...boy I liked..."
Doggett's smile teased her silently. She continued as bravely as she could.
"...would just...appear, at the window.  And I'd go out and...see him."
There, it was out.  And it hadn't ruined everything. In fact, it seemed just
the opposite.

Doggett's smile had changed subtly, into something warmer, deeper, quietly
satisfied and honored. One of his gloved hands moved to stroke her hair.  He
grinned and quickly yanked the glove off and tried again.  There...much
better.

"So what happens after that?  When you go out and...see them?" he asked.
Was he mocking how she'd said it?  Well, yeah, just a little.  And in a good
way.

She smirked wryly.  "That would vary, per boy."  She laughed a little.  "And
by the age I was when the fantasy happened."

His hand was cupping her cheek, then the back of her head.  "How did you
know?" she asked again, the awe of it creeping into her voice.  "It really
happened. You made it happen."

The warmth in his eyes was making the distance between them impossible to
maintain. "I dunno. Just had to do it..." he murmured, as his face drifted
close. "...just wanted to be near you."

Their cold lips met, and they went about defrosting them.

He was delicious.  She savored the warmth of his mouth, and thought she
caught a faded taste of peppermint.  His tongue swept hers and the ground
tilted, her brain fogging in the most wonderful way.

Was that her humming, making that little happy noise? That was definitely
him chuckling against her lips, pulling away slightly to kiss her cheeks and
forehead, over and over again.

His lips returned to hers, cold skin and stubble raking her cheek as he
deepened the kiss. She fought to get closer, pressing to him and finding
herself rewarded with his large arms around her back, anchoring her to him
in that steely, foreign, man-strength way.

They stopped to breathe, lips and noses drifting within millimeters of each
other.  "You ruined my Christmas," she murmured.  He pulled back in pretend
outrage, and probably a little real worry.  She smiled with the mental trump
card she held.

"Ever since the parking lot," she said.  "You kiss me like that, and *then*
you take off? Kiss and run?" He was smiling again, and she was glad, and
just getting warmed up.  "Then I'm supposed to go sit around with a bunch of
relatives and *not* go crazy?  I was so bored..."

"Bored?" he smirked.

"Yes, *bored*. What about you?"

"Me? No problems, why?"  She punched him, and he grinned all crooked.
"Okay, okay, I was a wreck."

"A wreck?"  She wanted details.

"Completely," he said earnestly. "I was out at my sister's house, and she
had this big dinner, and every person she'd ever met in her entire life was
over.  They were playin' games and some of them were singin', and it all
looked like a damn Hallmark commercial..." His smile showed his affection
for the scene in his head, but when he looked at her the smile faltered,
just a bit. "And it occurred to me, 'I'm a lucky guy, really.  I got
everything I could ask for..." The faint ache in his blue eyes belied his
words. "'...everything but the girl.'"

There was no way on Earth Scully could keep from kissing him at that moment.

They kissed until Scully found her teeth involuntarily chattering, bouncing
her jaw faintly against Doggett's.  He pulled back and laughed.  "You're
freezin'.  We should get you inside." He glanced reluctantly at the glow
from the window above.  "I should probably go."

"Noooo," she whined softly. She was becoming increasingly shameless in his
presence.  He took this with all due appreciation, but looked as though he
was going to argue for her well-being.  She had an idea.  "No, I know what
we can do.  Come on."

A moment later she had led him back into the garage and closed the door.
She leaned against her mother's sputtering old refrigerator and pulled
Doggett into her.  "See, nice warm appliance behind me.  I'm fine."  She
silenced his amused reply with her lips.

Several moments passed before Doggett had a chance to speak again. "Why,
Agent..." he murmured finally, a little breathlessly.  "I've never seen you
like this."

She began nibbling along his jawline. "What's 'like this'?" she asked. She
felt a shudder run through him, and exulted silently.

"This...*eager*," he clarified, and his voice sounded...different.  Scully
opened her eyes to see a dark new hunger in Doggett's neon blue gaze,
despite his gentle grin. "I like it," he growled quietly.

His hand was at her lower back, and it pulled her decisively into him. His
other hand kneaded her upper arm restlessly, as though itching to make the
jump to her breast.  Scully decided Doggett more than "liked" her current
attitude.

She also decided she more than liked his.

"Oh, you haven't seen eager," she said silkily, pressing herself still
closer.  "I'll show you eager." She let her breast brush against his hand on
her arm, and her pelvis press against his with the faintest suggestion of a
grind.  She was busy being pleased that she hadn't forgotten *all* her
moves...when the flame in Doggett's eyes leapt in intensity, and Scully felt
her breath leave her at the sight.

Any thought of gloating disappeared; she'd made him want to devour her.

She was going to let him.

Both his hands pulled her face roughly to his, and after a moment spent
cradling the nape of her neck they began to roam, down her shoulders, her
waist, her hips. Her hands snaked inside his jacket and started the journey
around his wide back. His traveled urgently to one breast.  Scully moaned
into Doggett's mouth and it only seemed to encourage those hands, which
began to work deftly to wrench more sounds from her, brushing at her nipple,
feverishly cupping her ass.  Scully felt her head drop back and Doggett's
mouth at her neck almost immediately, sending white-hot excitement searing
between her legs.  She fought to untuck his t-shirt from his jeans and claim
the overheated skin underneath with her hands.  He followed suit, one of his
hands burrowing under the many layers of jacket and sweater and t-shirt and
torturing her nipple anew through the satin of her bra.

Scully fought to contain this new excitement and did not succeed.  She found
herself gasping out his name, much more loudly than she meant to. The answer
she received was not at all the one she expected.

For one thing, it was in her mother's voice:  "Dana?"

-------

Doggett and Scully startled in tandem, jerking to a sudden, jarring stop.
Several glass somethings on top of the fridge - milk bottles, probably -
clinked together loudly, and Doggett reached up a long arm just in time to
stop them from falling.

Then, in the half-dark, Doggett and Scully shared a mock look of "Aaaah!"

The door at the top of the stairs creaked open a little more, letting in a
ray of upstairs light that just missed their position. "Dana, are you down
there?"

Scully's brain raced.  Didn't seem to be anything to do but answer.
"Uh...yes, Mom."

"Oh, good, I was starting to worry. So was it a raccoon?"

Raccoon?  Raccoon.

"Yes, Mom, it was.  A raccoon.  Out in the trash.  He, uh, left kind of a
mess..."  Doggett seemed to be regaining his composure.  The hand on her
breast began moving again, slowly.  "It took me a few minutes to..." Oh,
God.  Gulp for air. "...clean it up."

Her mother's voice seemed vaguely aware that not everything was adding up.
"Okay...are you coming back in?"

Doggett's rough, mischievous whisper in her ear: "Hey, your mom wants to
know if you're coming..."

She tried to stomp on his toes, and missed. "In a minute, I just..." His
lips back on her neck, oh oh OH God.  "...got distracted..." Stomping her
foot down again, finding her mark, trying not to laugh out loud as he tried
not to yell.  "...distracted by some of the things down here."  Her voice
got a little stronger for the lack of sweet torture. "I was looking around
at some of our old stuff, taking a little trip down memory lane, you know."
There, that sounded pretty good.

For a second.  She could almost hear her mother's confused blinking. "In the
dark?"

Doggett snorted a laugh against her neck.  She could feel his shoulders
bouncing with further concealed laughter.  She smiled too, closed her eyes
and curled her arm around his neck. "Yes," she said, with as much conviction
as if she were on the stand. "In the dark."

Thankfully, her mother evidently decided not to pursue a conversation with
her unseen, momentarily insane daughter. "Well, we're all going to bed.  We'
ll leave the lights on for you. Just turn 'em out when you come up."

"Okay, thanks." Scully felt the adrenaline leaving her, heard the blessed
sound of the door shutting.  Whew.

Doggett's brow furrowed in mock anger. "You tryin' to break my toes?"

"You trying to get us caught?"

"Not us, just you," he teased.  His face was all gentle affection again.  He
leaned his forehead against hers, nuzzling.  "Aaaaand...I'm gonna take that
little interruption as a sign," he sighed.  "I should go."

The look of protest had barely formed on Scully's face before Doggett had a
silencing finger against her lips.  "Maybe not a sign - a reminder." He
gently traced her lips' outline.  "A reminder that I wouldn't want to rush
anything like this with you.  You're..." Scully watched him search for words
to replace those that first came to his mind.  She shivered, feeling she
knew pretty well what they were, and that he thought she might not be up to
them yet.  He was right.  She felt honored, yet felt feverishly grateful
that he'd chosen to wait. Not bad thoughts, just...not yet.

"...you're so special," he finished at last. "And I'd wanna show you how
special, first time we..." He smiled and let the thought fade out, maybe
because Scully was already flushing pink and hot with the idea.

She was also too touched to protest further.  "Damn your logic," she sighed.

Doggett chuckled.  "Trust me, *I* might be damning it later."

She smiled. "Okay.  We'll continue this another time."

"The *very* next opportunity," he vowed.  Scully felt a little smug stab of
pride at the urgency propelling that statement.

They went to the garage door together, reluctantly. Once there, they
brightened to realize that, since he was going, it was only proper for him
to kiss her goodbye.

He did, and it took a little longer than planned.

Okay, a lot longer.

They separated as if they'd previously been glued.  They tried to regain
some decorum: Okay. Okay. I'm going. You're going. He was leaving.

Which meant he got to kiss her goodbye again.

And again.

And again.

And still.

Oh God.

In mere moments it was flaring between them again, raging even.  Dana found
her back thumping against the refrigerator once more, her receptive mouth
crushed against Doggett's devouring one, wondering if the thump and the
glass rattle had been loud enough to wake her assembled relatives and
knowing that even if she was absolutely positive it had, even if it had
alerted them all and got them out of bed and brought them downstairs in
their robes and they had turned on the light and were standing at the top of
the stairs gaping at down her...she still wouldn't stop.

His hands were everywhere this time, as though he was trying to grab back
every second of the years he'd had to work beside her, platonic and
controlled, not giving into what he really wanted.  Scully thrilled to feel
it pouring out of him.  She helped him push her jacket off her shoulders,
pull her sweater over her head. She should have been freezing, in just her
t-shirt and with Doggett's hands greedily pushing that up to plunder her
body underneath, but somehow, "freezing" just wasn't a word that applied to
the situation.

Soon his jacket was gone as well, added to the growing pile of clothing at
their feet.  She pushed up his sweater and t-shirt to kiss the skin
underneath, tease his nipples with her tongue.  God, even with what little
skin she was getting to see, she knew he was beautiful, all over.  Doggett
gasped and growled, then pulled her face back up to his and pushed her body
into the fridge, once more.  This time when the bottles up there clinked and
danced, his hand shot up to steady them in half the time of before.  She
smiled against his mouth and felt him respond in kind.

His hands were working feverishly at the button of her pants.  Well, two
could play at that game.  Except he had a belt on and it just seemed more
complicated, and before she could even attempt the button at his fly his
large rough hand had found its way inside her panties and was moving quickly
but carefully between her lips. Scully's head crashed back against the
fridge with the fierce, abrupt flush of pleasure.  Scully said "Ow." Doggett
steadied the milk bottles. Scully gave up and started laughing, reeling and
squirming all the while from Doggett's talented, undaunted fingers.

"Wh-- ohhh.  What about you?" Scully gasped.  Her hand fluttered at his
waistband, but couldn't find the strength to operate the closures there.  Oh
God, it had been so long, and the thought of a man's fingers, *his* fingers
doing this...it was so good, soooo good...

"What about me?" he murmured, his voice a low, distant earthquake.  When she
was able to open her eyes she could see his chest heaving, and his eyes
glittering and drugged. "We got time for me. I wanna see you."  His fingers
launched a new wave of their assault, and Scully felt a rush of bonelessness
overtake her.

He was kissing her neck now - her Achilles heel, making her weak and
covering her in goosebumps - and working his fingers into her while his
thumb roamed her clit.  He was pressed up against her so hard, and she felt
her left hand land on the rock-hard erection trapped by his already-snug
jeans.  She pressed her whole hand against it, caressing hard with her palm.
Doggett's body jerked with a hoarse cry, his fingers faltering just a
second.

Scully kept rubbing hard and slow and looked up at him, at his eyes half
closed and his mouth agape.  The look on his face registered utter
powerlessness, while his touch was causing heaven to bloom inside her - it
seemed her overwhelming arousal touched every corner of her body.  His
fingers slid against flesh she could never remember being this wet before,
or this utterly engulfed with sensation.  Any second now, any second, one
more touch, one more flick and...

Oh God. Oh GOD she was screaming out and she thought she heard him shushing
her just a little, sounding amused and then she was just convulsing and
washing over with utter joy and pleasure and letting the world, past him and
that feeling, cease to exist.

She was collapsing and breathing against the refrigerator, and she could
sense him brushing her face with his hand, kissing her cheeks.  The hand
still inside her pants fidgeted and grazed against her, causing her to gasp
and twitch.

Then the hand was gone and helping to pull down her slacks, and Doggett was
fighting to unbutton his own, his urgency unabated.  Scully found her own
ratcheting right back up.  She kicked off her shoes and pants just as he was
pulling himself out, and she wanted to gaze at him but only got a glimpse
before he was lifting her and sliding her up against the fridge, settling
her against him and rubbing himself against her wet lips.  Oh God, his face
was so wanton with pleasure she thought her second orgasm might come from
just watching him. She wrapped her bare legs around his waist and savored
the contact herself.

A couple of quick scoots with her hips and thrusts with his, and he slid
home. Oh oh OH it had been so long.  No words for it, although a couple fell
out of her in a gasp: "So good."

Doggett's forehead was against hers, and the hand that wasn't holding her up
caressed her cheek more tenderly than anyone had ever done.

"So...special," he breathed.

Scully opened her eyes and found his in the half-light. *God*, what was in
them. So obvious that, in his heart, this moment was utterly huge.

Huge enough to make her want to take all the steps between them in running
leaps.

She poured it all into the most heartfelt kiss she had.  He responded,
starting to move.

Scully wondered deliriously if the sound of rattling milk bottles would,
from this night forward, become a turn-on. She wondered if the sight and
smell of a musty garage would cause her to blush.  She didn't wonder about
the sound of his breathing - she was sure that from now on any time Doggett
ran or fought or lifted something with a grunt, she'd be shot back to this
moment and her pussy would run hot and wet.  This moment when the same
breath was rasping in her ears, catching and grunting and laced with
fevered, unbidden mutterings, revealing his intense need for her. When her
shirt was scrunching and rolling under her back and her ears were freezing
and the smell of him was filling her nose and his sweet, slick cock was
filling her body.  Oh, over and over again she wanted it - she wanted him to
fill every crevice of her being he could find.

He was starting to shiver and cry out. His thrusts turned increasingly
desperate, pounding on her pubic bone and sending extra little frissons of
sensation through her.  His fingers dug bruises into her hips and thighs,
grasping everywhere, pulling and trying to get closer, harder, more.  She
fought to crawl into him, and he into her, till the storm inside him began
to break with a soft stream of curses and her unexpectedly peaking as well
and some milk bottles falling off the back of the fridge and him finally,
gloriously emptying himself of waiting and raw cries and come.

She hung onto him as the moment stilled and listened to that breathing slow,
along with her own.  God, she was so happy to be here, in this ridiculous
position.  With him. This night was the messiest, silliest, and undoubtedly
the sweetest in recent memory.

She hoped it was the beginning of a trend.

Doggett groaned softly. "Gonna put ya down," he said, and gently did so.
When he finally pulled back, Scully saw him looking sheepish.

"What?" she asked. He grinned, and then looked sheepish squared. She
laughed. "*What?*"

He shrugged a little. "So much for my little makin'-ya-feel-special speech."

"Ooooh, no no no..." She rushed to touch his face, his shoulders. "You still
showed it.  Just in a different way, by not treating me like a...glass angel
or something, by acting like I was so...wantable that you couldn't wait..."
She suddenly felt that explaining was ridiculous. "There's no way you could
think I was unsatisfied with *that*," she said flatly.

Doggett chuckled in acceptance, tightening his arms around her. "I couldn't
resist," he confirmed. His eyes grew soft.  "I couldn't wait."

Scully's heart tugged a little at his characteristic modesty. She knew she'd
made him wait quite a while to get to this point.  She suddenly felt
incredibly grateful that he was still here.

-------------------

Scully was not ready for the espionage to end, so it continued. Besides, it
was now unthinkable that Doggett should drive home after all that had
transpired.

So she snuck him upstairs, into the deserted house, to wash up and lock up
and turn off the lights, to slink around furtively despite the fact that no
one was awake, to stifle laughs at unintended noises, giggling softly and
touching and pulling each other close.

*This* was the Christmas she had wanted.

They finally ended up in Dana's room for the weekend, addressing the
prospect of the double bed. At first Dana considered pajamas, then saw
Doggett strip off his sweater and shirt.  He grinned a little sheepishly at
her scrutiny, but the more he saw how much she wanted to gaze at him, the
more confidence - and desire - came into his face.

She wanted still more of it.

She reached to the hem of her knit shirt and deliberately removed it as
well, standing there in her pants and bra.  He took her dare with a raised
eyebrow and stripped to his boxers.  Oh God, the sight of that.  She took
off everything and stood there.  Doggett was spell-struck, and pulled her
into him, kissing the breath out of her.

They lay down, apparently to sleep, but Scully's hands wouldn't rest with so
much warm, naked Doggett Skin so irresistibly close.  She rolled over in
their spooned position to face him, and while his eyebrow questioned her
hands crept down mischievously to sneak off the boxers.  He was hard and hot
in her hands within seconds, his eyes heavy-lidded and beholden.  She pulled
her palms over the scorching smoothness of him until she could resist no
more, and then disappeared under the covers.

She moved the blankets off her head when it got too smothering, and glanced
up to watch him as her mouth worked.  His head lolled and his mouth refused
to close. His hands flailed for purchase as his lean body shuddered. But
best of all were the words, worship run together in a low breathless whisper
that chanted like mantra and made of her name a prayer.

His orgasm was delicious, in more ways than the obvious.  Scully was
remembering that her sexual self had fairly wide boundaries, which hadn't
been pushed in far too long.

She sat astride him afterwards, lay her chest over his and looked down with
a warm joy. He was so relaxed and love-drunk and sleepy.

"I am gonna pay you back," he vowed with a smile, though he looked far too
boneless to move.

Her own eyelids were starting to feel leaden.  "Tomorrow," she suggested.

He smiled at her mind-reading. "I ain't gonna forget," he drowsed.  She knew
he wouldn't, and shivered at the idea.

Then suddenly, the fact of Tomorrow hit her.

Tomorrow, when Doggett would of course come down to breakfast, and everyone
would stare at her magical trick of producing a man overnight. It wasn't
like she wasn't proud of presenting him, but...jeez. She didn't relish the
idea of questions, and her face did the blushing ahead of time.

Doggett saw it all going on, and smiled. "Tomorrow," he echoed.  One hand
caressed her thigh soothingly, and she knew it'd be okay, because he'd be
there to weather all the sweet, silly messiness with her. She smiled - she'd
wanted a trend, after all! - and found something new and serious in his
eyes.

"After tomorrow, too," he offered, those blue eyes suddenly wide and his
weathered face solemn.  "As long as you'll let me."

She nodded.  Her former sex-fueled adrenaline wasn't in play now, and if she
wasn't so tired, she'd be Jello Woman again at the steps coming so fast,
turning into a run.  She reminded herself that this was the process, the Way
It Was Done - she had to let the steps happen, and keep moving on to the
next ones.

Besides, she thought, feeling his large hands stroking her forearms,
watching his biceps flex with the small movement - he could probably carry
her sometimes.

They re-commenced spooning.

Half-asleep, he joked: "Sorry for ruining your Christmas."

"Yeah, well...you made up for it."

Doggett's reply was honest: "You made mine complete."

Her chest flushed with warmth. "I'm glad you were greedy."

Doggett chuckled. "How'sat?"

"I'm glad you had everything, and still wanted more," Scully explained.

He snuggled her closer, and felt warm and smelled wonderful. "Now I really
have everything," he rumbled.

Everything, she thought, and finished the phrase silently:

Everything and the girl.

-------------------

End.