Title: That Marvin Feelin'
Author: Whimsicle-1
Feedback: Whimsicle.dreams@gmail.com
Disclaimer: This is not meant to infringe on copyrights held by Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen, Fox, or anyone else (and besides, I have no money-suing me would be a waste of effort). This story, however, does belong to me, so please don't reproduce it without something approaching permission.
Author's Notes: Yes, I know the title makes no sense. It was originally an impulse thing, and I just left it that way. It was originally published in a zine years and years ago.

That Marvin Feelin'
By Whimsicle-1

Dana Scully sat staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her skin glossed warm and pearlescent, glowing with the fire of the candles burning all around her, while her hair seemed to burn as hot as they did. She fancied she could see the lust burning in her eyes.

"You look beautiful," Fox Mulder’s voice caressed her.

She started to turn, but his voice stopped her. "No, don’t."

He stepped behind her, his reflection joining hers in the full-length mirror. He was wearing a dark suit and loud tie. His hands curved to her bare shoulders, caressing her smooth skin with his thumbs. He slid the narrow straps of her silky nightgown down, then leaned down to taste her skin. He trailed one hand down the length of her torso, sliding across the slick fabric, teasing and caressing her breasts and belly before curving his fingers to the soft vee at the apex of her thighs. "It’s going to last all night..." he promised huskily as he nibbled in her ear, and his fingers began to move very gently, teasing her through the thin nightgown.

She was gasping softly long moments later when he peeled the nightgown off over her head, then began kissing his way down her body. His lips ranged over her breasts, then followed the centerline of her body down, tasting her belly, just brushing across her—

And her alarm clock rang.

Dana groaned softly as she opened her eyes in her darkened bedroom. Damned F.B.I. they didn’t even let her have a romantic life in her dreams. She pushed from bed, trying valiantly to ignore the pounding of her heart and the arousal vibrating through her veins. And Mulder, she’d dreamed about Mulder. Scully sighed. When she started having erotic dreams about Mulder, it was a sure sign she needed some time off...or a date...or... Dana grumbled several choice invectives under her breath and push out of bed. Fat chance of that happening. She’d been celibate so long, she was rapidly heading for the title: Most Likely To Regain Her Virginity.

*****

"Hi, Scully," Mulder said cheerfully as she entered the office they shared.

Dana grunted something in response, then pulled up short as she realized he was wearing the same tie he’d been wearing in her dream.

Mulder noticed her stare and responded with a raised eyebrow and the question, "Something wrong.?"

"No, Mulder," Scully harrumphed. "I’m fine...just peachy, in fact." She tossed her briefcase on her desk and fell into the chair.

The eyebrow climbed another notch on his forehead. "You sound like it," he said wryly.

The glare she flashed his way forestalled any further remarks. Mulder could be dense, but not that dense.

Blessed silence fell between them. Dana let her head fall back against the headrest and closed her eyes...concentrating on...what was she concentrating on? Oh yeah, she was concentrating on not concentrating on sex.

"Uh, Scully?" It was Mulder’s voice that broke into her efforts against thinking.

"What?" she grumbled without opening her eyes.

"Are you okay?" he sounded genuinely worried, and Scully suddenly experienced a flicker of guilt. She opened her eyes to find him sitting on the near edge of her desk. Wearing that damn, godawful, ugly, hideously arousing tie. She closed her eyes again. "I’m fine, Mulder. I just didn’t sleep very well last night." God, why did he have to be so cute, even if his taste in clothes was atrocious.

"Look, we don’t have anything pressing to do today. If you want to go home and get some rest, you—"

"I said, I’m fine, Mulder," Scully cut him off more shortly than intended. She opened her eyes again to find that he was blinking at her, a hurt look on his face. She sat up straight in her desk chair, reaching for the on switch on her computer as she muttered, "Besides, I’ve got a lot of paperwork to get done."

Feeling dismissed and not quite knowing why, Fox Mulder shrugged and returned to his own desk.

*****

Her neck hurt. Dana Scully reached back, unsuccessfully trying to massage away the piercing pain sitting right between her shoulderblades.

Suddenly a large hand brushed hers away, and strong thumbs dug into the sore spot.

"Relax," Mulder whispered when she tensed at his touch. He slid one hand up, sliding his fingers under her hair as he curved his fingers to the back of her neck and urged to her lean her head forward. "You’ve been at this for hours," he chided gently as he began to massage her back and shoulders, working out the kinks and driving the pain away to be replaced by a boneless lassitude that seeped in and moved throughout her upper body.

Dana knew from past experience that Mulder’s massage technique was entirely too effective. What she hadn’t known was that in the right frame of mind, it qualified as foreplay. She wondered what he’d think if he knew what kind of fantasies were running through her mind at that moment.

"What say we cut out early and go get a beer and pizza?" he asked after several minutes.

Scully lifted her head from her desk to stare back up at him more than a little blearily. Not a good idea, a distant part of her brain screamed in warning. She really didn’t want to listen...but..."I, uh, think I should probably just get some rest tonight," she muttered at last.

Mulder looked disappointed, but didn’t argue

*****

Dana started to pull on her favorite pair of pajamas as she climbed out of the bath, then thought better of the idea. She threw the pajamas back over the hook on the back of the bathroom door and padded into her bedroom. When she opened her closet door the nightgown seemed to be laughing at her. She’d purchased it on impulse one day at Victoria’s Secret, and regretted it ever since.

Made from the palest lavender silk, it hugged her body in all the right ways and was exactly the sort of thing a woman used to seduce a man. Like that had been an option in her life of late. There was a certain temptation to blame Mulder and the F.B.I. for her current predicament, but in a flash of honesty, she had to admit, she’d hardly been swimming in men even before she met Mulder. Oh, she’d dated, and there’d been Jack, and before him, a handsome med-student to whom she’d nearly become engaged before finding out that in addition to his admitted attraction to redheads, he’d also had a weakness for blondes, and brunettes, but... Oh, to hell with it, she thought to herself, I might as well enjoy the thing, since no one else is likely to. She pulled it on over her head, enjoying the erotic slide of silk against her skin. Scully sighed disgustedly. At this rate, she was going to be borrowing one of Mulder’s movies soon.

*****

Reduced to tacky romantic novels, Dana thought disgustedly as she nonetheless felt her pulse start to rise as Jake Savage sank to the leafy forest floor with his one-true-love, Felicia Carstairs. She took another sip of Riesling and found herself wondering if there had ever been any couple anywhere, even remotely as perfect as those found in romance novels. Jake and Felicia were just starting to get down to some serious...er...romance, when the doorbell rang. Grumbling softly, Scully flagged the page she was on before tossing the book aside, then tugged on her robe as she hurried to answer the door.

Mulder’s face peered back at through the crack between the door and frame allowed by the safety chain. He held up a pizza and six pack of Dos Equis. "Beware of F.B.I. agents bearing gifts," he cracked with a grin.

Scully took a moment to unlock the chain, then swung the door open and stood staring at him. "Mulder," she croaked. Her skin was slightly flushed, her eyes dilated.  She looked like a woman who’d been...

Fox Mulder swallowed hard, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He’d dropped by on impulse. Scully never had problems sleeping so he’d been worried about her all day. As he caught a glimpse of the sexy nightgown hiding beneath her robe, it suddenly occurred to him that one possible cause of her lack of sleep had never even fluttered through his brain. He blushed bright red and backed up a half step. "I...uh...if you’re busy, I can...go."

Scully blinked, saw what he assumed reflected in his hazel eyes. She really should let him think that. It would make both of their lives so much easier. Let him think whatever he liked and go back to the adventures of Jake and Felicia. "I’m alone, Mulder," she sighed disgustedly.

"It’s okay," Mulder said too quickly. "I really didn’t mean to...interrupt."

She caught the sleeve of his leather jacket, tugging him forward as she murmured. "Really, Mulder, I am alone." she slammed the door behind him.

"Oh," her partner exhaled. He tried to look innocent. "I never thought anything else."

Scully folded her arms across her chest and glared.

"Much..." he partner gulped. He held out the pizza and beer. "Peace?" he offered with a sheepish grin.

Scully grinned despite her best instincts.

*****

The pizza was good.

The beer was better.

The first bottle of Riesling was good.

The second was better.

The third was absolutely fantastic.

"We... are... seriously... thrashed..." Fox Mulder sighed as he folded his arms across his stomach and stared blankly at the ceiling. Sprawled in the middle of Scully’s floor, Mulder was grateful that his partner had thick carpeting, because, at that point, there was no way he could have made it to her couch five feet away.

Lying next to him, Scully shifted until her head was pillowed on Mulder’s hip. She sighed heavily. "Can’t argue with that," she agreed, and was proud that she kept most of the slur out of her voice.

They both fell silent for a long moment until finally Scully murmured, "Mulder, can I ask you a question?"

"Mmm." Mulder mumbled.

Scully thought about it a moment, then decided his answer had been an affirmative. "I...have you..." she stumbled, then took a deep breath and exhaled all at once, "Have you ever thought about sex?"

Mulder’s head arced up and he peered at his partner blearily, as if he couldn’t quite decide he’d heard right. "I...uh...Scully, I’m thirty four...I’ve thought about sex."

Scully’s head came up and she looked over at him, her expression vaguely disgusted. "I don’t mean in the general sense, Mulder, I mean...." she trailed off, sincerely hoping he’d get the hint and she wouldn’t have to come out and actually ask the question running through her alcohol fogged brain.

"What?" her partner demanded, his expression genuinely perplexed.

"With me, Mulder," Scully snapped at last, putting things slowly and carefully. "Have ... you ... ever ... thought  ... of ... having ... sex ... with ... me?"

It was hard to tell who lost all color first.

"I don’t believe I said that," Scully moaned and threw an arm across her face.

"Ah, well, geez, Scully, I dunno."

Scully unfolded her arm from her face and turned her head to stare at her partner. "You don’t know," she repeated icily. Somehow that was worse than a denial. If he'd denied it, she could have at least pretended that he was probably lying. Not knowing indicated he'd never even contemplating contemplating it. God, that was humiliating.

Mulder looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Well, I...it’s just that...have you ever thought about me...that way?" he asked as a random neuron fired somewhere in his brain, making him change gears with amazing speed.

Scully was silent for a long moment, then she hesitantly exhaled. "Yeah..." There was a brief pause then she continued in a more dreamy voice. "You...Skinner...Agent Bonsall...that really cute delivery guy who works at the Chinese place down the block—" It occurred to her that were she sober, she would have suffered the worst kind of torture—beatings, fingernails pulled out, drawing and quarter, Donny and Marie reruns—before admitting that, but the alcohol was doing funny things to the wall she usually kept between her darkest fantasies and her mouth, and it wasn't a good thing.

"D-A-N-A," Mulder stretched her name out as he stuck his head up and stared at her disbelievingly.

"What?" she said too quickly.

"You haven’t actually—" Mulder started to ask, his expression worried.

Scully punched his arm as she exploded. "NO!"

Mulder caught her hand before she could hit him again, and they were suddenly almost nose to nose. "Scully," Mulder exhaled.

"Yeah?" his partner whispered.

"I really don’t feel so good..."

*****

Dana Scully returned to consciousness with the slow rising awareness of nausea. She opened her eyes, then snapped them shut again, wishing fervently that she hadn’t even remotely considered trying anything so completely moronic. As she lay perfectly still, it occurred to her that she hurt. Her head hurt, her eyes hurt, her hair hurt...oh hell, everything hurt. Scully resisted the urge to whimper, but it was only with the utmost self-control. What the hell had happened? The last thing she remembered, she’d been reading a tacky novel...then...

Oh, God

Scully abruptly realized that the pillow beneath her head was rising and subsiding gently. Moving cautiously, she raised her hand, feeling behind her.

Her fingers encountered soft worn denim over warm flesh.

Scully rolled over and pushed up on her hands.

Mulder’s eyes snapped open as consciousness slammed back with a solid whumpf. "Scully," he croaked as his eyes met his partner’s.

They stared at each other with equally shocked expressions, then after a long moment their gazes broke and both agents looked away to peer around the room, taking in the remains of the previous night’s impromptu...party.

"Scully?" Mulder moaned. "What did we do last night?"

"I...uh," Panicked, Scully pushed to a sitting position, hands running over her own body. Her robe and nightgown were in a disarray, but...

Dana let out a soft sigh of relief. "Nothing, Mulder. We got drunk and must have fallen asleep."

Mulder squeezed his head between his hands. "How can you be so certain?" he groaned weakly.

Embarrassment tinged Scully’s already husky, post-binge voice as she answered, "I’m...uh...still wearing my underwear, Mulder."

"There’s only one problem, Scully," Mulder murmured.

Scully turned to look toward her still fully clothed partner. "What?" She questioned, her expression clearly showing her hangover.

"I’m not," Mulder muttered miserably as he gestured toward the couch.

Scully’s eyes followed the line of his arm, and she felt faint as the helmeted visage of Marvin the Martian  stared back at her from the silk boxers tossed onto her couch cushions, inviting her to Take me to your leader. Her head snapped back, eyes meeting her partner’s.

"Ohhhhhh boy."

THE END?