All the Potatoes (R)

He leaned in, was he really going to kiss her? Oh god, oh god, he was. Oh, and it was everything sheíd dreamed of. His hand reached up and entangled itself in her hair and he drew back.

"Okay?" He asked, his voice deeper than usual, watching, waiting for her response.

"Oh yes." It was all she could say. What had triggered this? Why was Mulder suddenly interested in her? All these years and now, suddenly. . . he was kissing her again. Her response was immediate and more than heíd hoped for. She felt him grope for the hem of her t-shirt, maybe the wine hadnít been such a good idea, but she wasnít about to argue with this. It had been years since sheíd been this turned on and it was Mulder! How many nights had she gotten to sleep with this very fantasy playing through her mind?

She heard his sharp intake of breath when her breasts were exposed, no bra, she hadnít expected company anyway. Since it was Mulder she hadnít figured heíd notice. Mulder never looked at her as if she were a woman. The innuendoes he threw around were just part of his personality. He didnít have a clue how she filed each one away in her mind to savor when he wasnít around.

Turn about was fair play, she tugged at his t-shirt and it joined hers on the floor. Sheíd admired that chest so many times, but now to have the opportunity to actually play with it. She needed to remember the name of that wine. It had become her new favorite.

She gasped as his lips closed over her nipple, then began trailing kisses down her stomach. God, she was wet. Sheíd known for a long time she wanted him, but this. . .

The door burst open, kicked in. Part of the door jam gave way and fell to the carpet. Mulder? What the fuck? The Mulder with his lips on her navel jerked away from her. No words were spoken as she scrambled from the couch, her arms covering her breasts, putting distance between herself and everyone else in the room.

"What. . . ?" And she lost her voice again. She watched in horror as Mulder, the man sheíd been kissing and fondling morphed into Eddie Van Blundht. Oh god! She grabbed her t-shirt from the floor and raced to her bedroom.

When she returned, semi-composed, Eddie was in handcuffs on her couch.

"Are you okay?" Mulder, the real Mulder, was having trouble looking at her.

"Iím fine, Mulder." He winced at that.

"The police are on their way. They can hold him until morning for us, then we can sort this out."

She nodded. For something to do she reached for the wineglasses to begin clearing the table.

"Leave those Scully. We may need to get the prints off them."

"Oh." Damn, she had to get her act together. Why was she still reeling from his touch? It wasnít even his touch, damn it!

When the police arrived, she retreated to the kitchen, letting Mulder handle it. When she returned to her living room, expecting it to be empty, she was startled to see Mulder still standing there.

"Itís really me. Eddieís gone." She could cut the tension with a knife. They definitely needed to talk about this. But where the hell should they start?

"You want to sit down?" She gestured toward the couch before realizing that probably wasnít a good idea. It was too late. She watched him sink into the same place Eddie had sat. She swallowed, "Where were you?"

"Eddie had me locked in the basement of the hospital. Itís not a well-traveled room, so no one found me until a few hours ago. I grabbed the first plane. Your phoneís not working."

"My phone?" She glanced over at it.

"Itís dead, I tried it. Eddie must have cut the wires before he came in."

"Mulder, I donít know what to say about. . . about what you. . . saw. I know you must be upset, to have someone use your body that way. . . "

"My body?" Oh god, had he said that out loud?

She stiffened and drew away from him. They both rose from the couch. Her anger flared, "That should have tipped me off. I should have known you wouldnít want me."

"Well, if Iíd know it would be that easy, I might have tri. . . "

He didnít even see the blow coming, but staggered under the impact.

"Get out. Get the hell out of my apartment."

He grabbed a tissue to staunch the blood flowing from his lip and retreated toward the door. Damn had he screwed that up big time. "Scully. . . "

"I donít. . . just leave." She was cradling her hand. She was hurt, he should. . . oh god. He turned and let himself out. He barely missed having his head smashed again as she slammed the door behind him. No wonder he hadnít gone into psychology full-time, heíd have to put in a revolving window to aid the jumpers with his techniques.

He leaned against the door. How could he leave with things like this? But could she ever understand what heíd felt when he burst in and saw her like that with another man? Well, he knew it was another man, at least he knew it wasnít him. It wasnít his lips on her breasts and . . . how had this happened?

After slamming the door she leaned against it and slid to the floor as she began to cry. What the hell was going to happen now? How could she work with him if he felt that way? Sheíd thought it was him. How could she have been so stupid? He didnít want her, he never had and now heíd seen her response to him, her bodyís response to his and damn it! It wasnít him!

She hid her face in her hands trying to stifle the sobs, to get her composure back. She could never face him again.

Mulder straightened up, he might as well leave. She certainly wouldnít want to see him ever again, after his jackass remarks. What was. . . she was crying? No way he could leave now.

He tapped softly on the door. "Scully, let me in."

She froze, then scrambled away from the door. Why was he still here? "Go away!"

"Scully, please. We canít leave it like this. Let me in."

"No, I canít. . ." she started, then watched as Mulder let himself in the damaged door. "I donít want to see you."

"I donít blame you. But I canít leave, not now. Please, Scully, talk to me. Forget for just a minute what a bastard I am and tell me why this happened. Talk to me."

"I canít talk to you. Iíve humiliated myself enough today."

"You didnít humiliate yourself, Iím the one that did that. Scully, did you really think it was me?"

She nodded, unable to face him.

"Were you enjoying yourself?"


"Answer the question Scully."

"Yes." Now she knew sheíd never be able to look at him again.

"Do you think you could ever understand why that enraged me so? To have you enjoy yourself like that with another man?"

"I didnít know it was another man."

"I know." Startled she finally did look up at him, into his eyes. "You thought you were with me, letting me be with you that way. Scully, it wasnít me and that fact is about to kill me. Thatís whatís making me fall apart and act like a colossal asshole. It wasnít me and damn it, I wanted it to be."

Her eyes widened in shock. He watched her reaction and felt the defeat consume him. She didnít know, she didnít have a clue how he felt. This self-confessed loser spends a couple of hours with her and is closer to her than he had been able to be in years. He stood abruptly, startling her.

"Iím sorry. I shouldnít have stayed. Iíll see you in the morning." And he was out the door before she could compose herself enough to react.

He had wanted it to be him? Since when? And why hadnít he ever taken the step? Had she ever been more confused?


The summons to Skinnerís office, while expected, was the last thing either of them wanted. Scully was already in his office when Mulder appeared. Skinner looked up as he entered the room and his eyes widened. The guy had gotten in a good one.

Skinner waited until he was seated, then tossed the file down on his desk. "A shape-shifter? Agents, this is not the Enterprise and I have more hair than Captain Picard. Can you explain this?"

"The suspect had the ability to disguise himself, using a layer of subcutaneous muscle. He could make himself look like anyone else. Agent Scully and I were both witness to this phenomenon." Mulder was carefully avoiding looking at Scully.

She was blushing, Skinner realized, and those marks on her neck. . . were those hickeys? Agent Scully? The light that went on in his head nearly blinded him and he struggled with the smile that was threatening to break out on his face. The bruise on Mulderís face, that could have come from a much smaller hand than the man heíd seen in the file.

He had to get them out of here. He was going to lose it and heíd never be able to recover from that. "Excuse me." He rose abruptly from his chair. "I just realized Iím late for another meeting. Weíll have to finish this at a later time. Thank you for coming."

Scullyís eyes had narrowed. She was staring at him and it wasnít friendly. He could feel his face start to twitch. He reached for the phone, not looking at them as they went out the door.

Mulder froze just outside the office with his hand still on the knob, was that Skinner? Heíd never heard that noise from him before. He was. . . he was laughing! The SOB thought this was funny?

Should he go back in there and break his nose or follow Scully who was practically running for the elevator? Elevator, definitely, maybe Skinner would choke to death laughing and heíd get his revenge that way.

He had to squeeze in the doors that were beginning to shut. Shit, they were alone in the elevator, where were the crowds that inhabited the damn thing every time he tried to be alone with her? He started to speak but she turned from him, he should have gone for the broken nose. Was she crying? Oh god, her shoulders were shaking. Heíd kill Skinner if heíd made her. . . he gently put his hand on her shoulder and turned her toward him.

She was. . . she was laughing! Just like Skinner. What the hell did they think was going on? What was so damn funny about the situation?

"Mulder, Mulder, Iím sorry. I just saw Skinnerís expression when he realized what had happened and I couldnít get away fast enough. Canít you see how this would look to him?"

"Sorry, Scully. I guess I lost my sense of humor over this particular incident. Go ahead, laugh." Theyíd reached the basement finally and he turned to leave the elevator. He didnít really want to see her face anymore, and heíd give anything not to be visualizing her breasts bared before the other man, the other Mulder.

She was right on his heels when he entered the office, turning and locking the door behind her when they got inside.

"What are you doing?"

"We need to get this settled. Youíve lost your sense of humor, Iíve lost my equilibrium where youíre concerned and we canít be this way around each other. Damn it, kiss me."


"Kiss me. I need to know if I can tell the difference between the real thing and a fake. Since Iíve only experienced the fake, I need you to kiss me."

Mulderís mouth had gone completely dry, and he realized his hands were shaking a little as well. "Scully, I canít just. . . "

"Why not? Weíve had five years of foreplay, put up or shut up." His confession of the night before was fueling her strength. He had wanted it to be him, now it could be. Come on Mulder, donít chicken out now.

He was beginning to get his breath back, and that look in her eyes, a definite challenge. Okay, maybe he hadnít fathered five children this year, but surely he was able to kiss Scully, the woman that he loved above all else. She saw his backbone straighten and she relaxed a little, a small smile curving her lips.

Oh that was definitely a challenge, he thought.

The gleam in his eye made her wonder how she could ever have thought anyone else was this man. There was only one Fox Mulder and last night he had finally told her how he felt. She felt herself mold into his body as his arms went around her, pressing her, then crushing her against him. His lips, now that they were against hers, held her like a magnet. She could feel it down to her toes. Now his tongue, begging admission. Oh yes, yes please!

She had been deprived too long. How in all hell could she have mistaken what happened last night for this? This man knew what he was doing, what he wanted. Last night, oh fuck, forget last night. It wasnít even a decent prelude to this.

Mulder too was beginning to relax and realize how much he enjoyed this. And damn was she responding. Too bad oxygen was a life necessity, because it interfered with his new life necessity Ė Scullyís lips.

When they finally did break he had to support her, her legs no longer capable. He was almost afraid to breathe, and couldnít even smile. "Did you notice a difference?"

Her finger came up, outlining his lips. Was she going to answer?

"I think maybe, something. Could we. . . could we maybe try it again?" His eyes smiled, his lips were too busy.

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Mulder, Scully, the Lone Gunman and Skinner all belong to Chris, 10-13 and Fox Ė Bless them for it!! No infringement intended.

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