Title - Three forms of nonverbal communication
Author - Cyra (ccontryman@ups.edu)
Rating - NC-17
Classification - SRA
Spoilers - Millenium
Keywords - Mulder/Scully romance.
Summary - Mulder and Scully spend New Year's Eve together and work on 
their nonverbal communication skills.
Disclaimer - Yeah, I don't own them.  Whatever.
Archive - Wherever, just let me know.
Feedback - Do you have to ask?

Author's note:  I went to the Fox website before "Millenium" aired and 
saw the quote that kicks off this fanfic.  I figured it might be a 
pre-kiss dialogue and my imagination went wild.  As you see, I got the 
context and stuff totally wrong.  I hope you don't mind.

The three forms on nonverbal communication mentioned in the title are 
eye contact, sex and letter-writing.  That pretty much sums up this 
story.

For the record, I don't believe the things that Scully thinks about 
herself and Mulder thinks about himself in this story.  But we as 
humans often come up with really random self-images. 
 
I don't know anything about surveilance equipment, so I basically made 
up that stuff about the bugs.  Don't be mad at me.

***

She had somehow expected something different.

"Five, four, three, two, one..."

They were sitting on her couch, drinking wine and watching the ball 
fall in Times Square.  She was cross-legged, in a t-shirt and a pair 
of flannel pajama pants.  He was in the suit he had worn that day.

As the TV exploded with cheers from the people in New York, Scully 
looked around her still-lit, not-burning-to-the-ground apartment.  
"The world didn't end."

"No, it didn't," Mulder said.

"Happy New Year, Mulder."

"Happy New Year, Scully."

Mulder, smiling, set down his glass, and leaned over to kiss her.  
Somehow, she had expected something different.

A fight during which they suddenly found themselves ripping each 
other's clothes off.  A near-death experience which left one terrified 
for the other's life and suddenly overrun with passion.  An all-night 
angst session followed by...by...

But it was just Mulder on her couch on New Year's Eve, giving her 
their first kiss with such simplicity, such guilelessness and honesty 
that she suddenly wanted him more than she ever had before.

She felt his lips smiling against hers as he registered her response.  
She hadn't moved, except for a slight widening of her lips against 
his, but he knew.  He knew that she was instantly burning and aching 
with that jerky, painful longing that she'd felt ever since she'd 
first been alone in a hotel room with him, when she'd practically 
stripped before him in her panic.

He knew because she'd told him.  Not in so many words, but over the 
years they had perfected their own special brand of telepathy.  It was 
a rare day when she didn't know what was going through Mulder's thick 
little head...and vice versa.

Which was why he had kissed her in the first place.  He knew that this 
was why she'd called him earlier.  She was ready.

He had been biding his time, waiting for the day to come when she 
would let him in. They had known, ever since Donnie Pfaster, that they 
loved each other.  They had known, ever since Eddie Van Blundht, that 
they wanted each other. And they had known ever since Phillip Padgett 
that it was going to happen for them.  Odd that it was always other men
that were the catharsis.

He had not shown even a hint of impatience, but she knew it was there.  
He wanted this; to kiss her and hold her close.  She wasn't sure, 
precisely, whether he wanted her physically.  She was an okay-looking 
woman, she supposed, but nothing out of the ordinary.  He would enjoy 
making love to her, because she would make sure of it.  But 
irresistible?  Beautiful?  No, she was just Dana Scully, and he loved 
her.  That was what made her special.  And that was why he ached like 
she did, for this closeness - not for her beauty or her body.

She thought so, anyway.  Sometimes she saw something in his eyes...a 
glitter of something.  It was easy to communicate raw and burning love 
through telepathy, but it was hard to sense sexual desire the same 
way.  Especially when they were so hard-pressed to keep it a secret 
from the outside world.

That afternoon, she had carefully checked her apartment for bugs, 
calling over Byers and Langley - she was *not* going to involve 
Frohike in this - to make sure that the place was clean.  Before he 
came over, she had carefully drawn all her drapes and placed pieces of 
furniture in front of all the vents and cracks in her walls.  When 
Mulder came over, she saw his eyes sweep the place before he turned to 
her, his eyes commending her for her thoroughness.

But even if there weren't any cameras in the vicinity, there were ways 
to catch their voices on tape that couldn't be blocked.  There - 
across the street in that other building - a high-powered sensor could 
be recording them right now.  If this was going to happen, it was 
going to be silent.

That was no problem, considering their special affinity for telepathy.

But Mulder was still kissing her, and he sensed her thoughts 
wandering.  He took the glass she had been holding from her hand and 
set it down, then moved in on her with a new look on his face.

This time, it was different.

Scully had to consciously muffle her vocal cords to keep from making 
some highly suspicious sounds.  God, if the sensors picked up 
something like *that,* they'd find any way they could to spy on them, 
and it would all be over.

Those scenarios that had gone through her head earlier weren't really 
serious, after all.  Mulder loved her mind.  He didn't desire her with 
the driving, tangled passion that she felt for him sometimes.  But 
right now, she could almost believe that he *did* want her madly, and 
that he really couldn't help himself as he kneaded her arms roughly, 
keeping a cautious distance but slowly melting her with his mouth.

She was okay with this, really she was.  As long as he loved her, he 
didn't have to lust after her.  Her lust could be enough for them 
both, because contrary to her Ice Queen reputation, Dana Scully knew a 
few things about pleasuring a man.

Which reminded her...it was time to start taking an active role in 
this situation.  Fluidly, with one mind, they shifted so that she was 
flat on her back, not on the couch but on the floor, on the soft rug 
that she had bought weeks before with this very night in mind.  Mulder 
rose above her, one knee between hers, hiked up on his elbows as he 
took a connoisseur's pleasure in her mouth.

Scully spread her legs wider so that he fell between them, his hips 
fitting against hers neatly.  And she forgot her train of thought when 
she felt exactly what was there between them.

Mulder had a hard-on that was so hot, so hard and...large, that she 
felt faint for a moment.  Eyes wide, she pulled his lips away from 
hers and gazed wonderingly into his eyes.

His eyes, which were smoky and communicated such lust, stared down 
into hers for a moment.  *Did you think I didn't want you, Scully?*  
She almost heard him say, even though his voice was silent.  *Did you 
think that you were the only one who lay awake at night, dreaming of 
this moment?*

Wordlessly, she nodded.

*Oh, Scully...feel how much I want you.*

He thrust against her, once, and she tilted her head back against the 
rug.  She tried valiantly to keep her eyes open but lost the battle 
when she felt his lips, hot and wet, against her throat.

Mulder wanted her.  He didn't just love her and respect her, he 
*wanted* her.  This wasn't just the next natural step in their 
relationship. It was not a formality or a side note.  Mulder wanted 
*this* as an end unto itself.

He wanted something else, too.  When he was satisfied with the job 
he'd done on her neck, he raised her head with both his hands and 
shook her a little, willing her to open her eyes.  Because their 
connection was broken when they weren't looking at each other.

Drowsily, Scully fought to raise her eyelids and found him staring 
intently at her, as if there was something inside her that he was 
looking for and he was going to die if he couldn't have it.

*Mulder, help me undress...*

He understood her perfectly.  They shed her clothing together, 
starting with her flannels.  Mulder was tossing them aside when he got 
distracted with her legs.

She had okay legs, she supposed - short, true, but she'd never had any 
complaints.  Mulder seemed fascinated with them.  He ran his hands 
from her ankles to her hips, kissing the inside of her thighs and 
moving down to massage her feet with his hands and tongue.  She was 
glad that she'd bathed before he came over.

She gasped once, and Mulder's hand shot up over her mouth.  She 
pressed her hips up to him, beseeching him to get on with it.  She was 
burning, this must be what hell feels like...and heaven too...

Mulder swiftly moved up and locked her mouth with his.  "Shhh," he 
breathed, and she realized that she'd been moaning again.  She took 
his hands in hers and squeezed them in apology.

He didn't let go of her hands, but raised them up over her head and 
held them there with one large hand while he used the other to gently 
undo her blouse and bra, which thankfully snapped in front.

Scully closed her eyes.  This was the hard part.  The part where she 
had to bare herself to him, where he would judge her for her body.  
Not that he hadn't seen her so before, but this was different.

*Please, love me,* she begged him silently.  *Don't be disappointed.*

She couldn't prevent him from breaking their kiss so that he could 
lean back and look at her, but damn if she didn't try.  She kept her 
eyes closed as she felt his fingers move over her ribs and brush the 
undersides of her breasts.  Immediate sensation - her nipples 
tightened and she arched her back convulsively.

He let go of her hands and again took her face between his, willing 
her, commanding her to open her eyes.  She stared at him in humiliated 
misery.

His eyes were bright like fire.  *Scully, Scully, Scully...you are so 
beautiful to me.*

*Don't be disappointed,* she begged again, and he smiled and moved his 
hands down her neck to palm both of her breasts.  

Slowly, they moved so that she was sitting up on his thighs.  With the 
least possible noise, Mulder removed her shirt and bra from her body, 
staring into her eyes all the while with that strange, sweet smile.  
And then he looked down.

*I am awed.*

Tears gathered in her eyes, and she took in a great gulp of air to 
stave off the sob that worked its way up her throat.  *Thank you, God, 
thank you...*

There was a reason that she wore conservative clothes in the office 
and the field.  Professionalism, obviously, but there was something 
else, too.  She knew that if she dressed to downplay her body, then no 
one would notice it.  And no one would find fault with it.

Not so with Mulder.  She had never been able to find an ensemble that 
completely hid herself from his gaze.  He always looked at her with 
those eyes that made her feel that she didn't have anything on at all.  
It had made her uncomfortable. They both knew that she was his; they 
both knew that someday, he would look at her without clothes to hide 
behind.  She'd always thought that he looked at her that way so that 
he could catalogue her faults and resign himself to them in 
preparation for this moment.

Oh, she was so wrong...

Mulder pulled her sharply up against him so that they touched from hip 
to chin.  His eyes bored into her, and she knew what he was trying to 
communicate to her.

*You have a beautiful body, Dana. There is nothing about you that 
isn't beautiful, nothing that doesn't make me think of...this.*

He kissed her fiercely, running his hands down her back and grasping 
her ass to pull her even tighter against him.

Tears were running down her cheeks in earnest.  She knew that he 
wasn't lying, he wasn't placating her...oh, how had she missed this 
all these years?

*We all have our demons, Scully...yours is fear.*

She ached to hear his voice.  She ached to tell him that she 
understood, that everything up to this point was just the prologue to 
their relationship and that she would love him for the rest of her 
life.  But it was unnecessary.

She had her body to tell him these things, and her eyes.  She couldn't 
look at him right now, because he was clumsily removing his clothes 
and the rest of hers.  And when they were both naked, he pulled her 
again onto his lap.  He thought that it was time to leave off the 
telepathy for another, more direct type of communication.  But she 
pressed her forehead to his, her hands in his hair, and forced him to 
look her in the eyes as she slowly, so slowly, pressed herself onto 
him.

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment.  She saw the effort it required 
for him to reopen them and was gratified.  She had something to tell 
him.

If her demon was fear, Mulder had a million demons...loneliness, 
frustration, impotence - in the purely metaphorical sense, she thought 
as she impaled herself even deeper on him.  And when it came to 
Scully, Mulder's demon was disbelief.

He knew that she loved him.  He knew that she lusted after him.  More 
than once, he'd caught her in the midst of a disturbing fantasy and 
had to carefully regulate his smirk lest he hurt her feelings.  Once, 
when they were on a case, he'd woken her because she'd forgotten to 
set her alarm, only to find her drenched with sweat and pressing 
herself against a pillow.  That day had been a particularly...eloquent 
day for nonverbal communication.

But he didn't believe that she needed him.

In Mulder's opinion, he was the luckiest son of a bitch alive because 
some glitch in the cosmos, probably heavily bemoaned by the powers 
that be, had caused Scully to set her sights on *him.*  She wasn't 
entirely sure by what leap of logic she was considered the superior 
human being in this equation, but she knew that he felt unworthy of 
her.  And that he was planning on using pleasure to bind her to him.

Mulder *did* know a thing or two about pleasuring a woman, despite his 
years of more or less fidelity to her.  He knew from past experience 
that women loved going to bed with him.  And so he reasoned that it 
was this that would keep Scully with him - years down the road, when 
she was disillusioned with his quest and his dreams and his theories, 
he could use his body to placate her.

*Oh, Mulder...*

She moved slowly on him, now in control of the situation. She wouldn't 
let him look away from her as she used everything she had to 
communicate to him the love that she had for him.

*I need you...I crave you...when I go to sleep at night, I wish you 
were with me...I want to be held by you, I want to laugh with you, 
sometimes I even want to go chasing aliens with you.  Because you and 
I are one, Mulder...we're joined...this isn't lust, this isn't 
infatuation...this is real.*

He gazed at her with wavering concentration, trying hard not to let 
his eyelids slip shut.  He was hanging onto her "words" by his 
fingernails, she could see it.  He was almost there.  But her eyes 
held him captive, because he wanted so badly to believe what they told 
him.

It was like being caught in some kind of a cold fire.  She was 
dripping with perspiration, shivering, gasping for air, but she didn't 
dare let go until she was sure he believed her.  She staved off the 
waves by sheer willpower, her eyes locked on his.

*Scully, come for me...*

*Mulder, tell me you believe me.*

*Scully...I won't leave you like this.*

*Do you believe that I will never love anyone the way I love you?*

*Scully...let me give you this...*

Oh, God, he was pressing his fingers into the apex of her thighs, 
trying desperately to make her come.  He didn't believe.

*I don't need your body, Mulder. I need you...just you...*

*I want to believe that, Scully...*

*Believe it...believe it...Mulder...*  

Scully was forced to give up eye contact when she saw that Mulder was 
about to cry out.  She covered his mouth with hers, swallowing the 
sounds that bubbled up out of his throat, throwing her arms around his 
back to gain purchase as their undulations became disjointed, sloppy, 
desperate.  She feared that they were making too much noise, that 
someone would suspect...oh, God...

Scully felt herself seize up, her body gone rigid with the pleasure 
that hit upon her suddenly, like a wall of bricks falling upon her.  
She worked desperately to keep her mouth latched to his, swallowing 
his cries and her own as he, too, found his pleasure...

They fell into a contorted heap on her living room floor, gasping for 
breath, tangled around each other.  Mulder slowly, painfully gathered 
her up and carried her to her bed.  When they were both stretched out 
under her sheets, still breathing heavily, Mulder leaned very close to 
her ear and breathed in a voice so low she had to strain to hear it.

"I love you."

She closed her eyes and nodded, spooning up against him.  "Me, too," 
she returned.  "Sleep now."

***

When Scully woke up on the morning of January first, Mulder was gone.  
With a sense of heavy disappointment, she got out of bed and shuffled 
into her living room...to find a note sitting on her coffee table.

     Scully,

     I had to go, not knowing how safe we would be sleeping together 
     all night.  I hope you will forgive me for not waking you.

     I understood what you were trying to tell me last night, as I 
     hope you know what I was trying to tell you.  Someday soon, when 
     we have a chance, we will sit together and talk about it.  For 
     now, just know that you have never been more beautiful than you 
     are right now, sleeping as I write this and watch you.  And I 
     will go home and try to sleep as well, dreaming of a time when I 
     can be a better man for you.  

     I know you will protest to this, but I do want to be worthy of 
     you, Scully.  You make me a better person, so hopefully some day 
     I can stand next to you and feel as if I have that right.  

     You should burn this letter now, but I will write you many more 
     love letters.  Maybe some day, it will be safe for you to keep 
     them.  I love you.

     Mulder

Finis