Confession, by Sculder

Disclaimer: So I'm not doing this for money and Chris Carter and 1013 and Fox own all. I'm just playing with them for a while, and I'll put them back exactly the way they were, I promise.

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"Oh God, what a case," I moaned as I slumped into the ratty, overstuffed armchair in my motel room. Tomorrow we were leaving at six in the morning for Washington D.C. The case hadn't been an X-file, as I had suspected. It was simply a farmer trying to get insurance for his entire property because of "them flyin' saucers", as he had put it. He had actually been the one to set the whole farm on fire. On top of that, he had been extremely resistant to arrest. He had turned his hunting rifle on one of the local PD, resulting in an injured leg. The chase had ended rather ridiculously; apparently, he had watched too many bad action movies. He took one of his own pigs as a hostage. Well, the police department would eat well for a while, at least.

Mulder flopped onto the couch opposite. We had congregated in my room for paperwork time. Oh joy.

As usual, I typed industriously on my laptop while Mulder stared off into space, twirling a pencil around and around. When I had finally finished my report, he scanned it disinterestedly and made a few notes, before signing the document next to my signature. Done at last.

I stretched, and attempted to get rid of the cricks in my neck while Mulder ordered a pizza. We returned to our former positions on the chair and the couch.

I sighed. What I need is a hot bath, and a trip to my priest, I thought.

From the look on Mulder's face, I realized I had said it out loud.

"You need to go to confession, Scully?" Mulder asked, a twinkle in his eye.

I frowned at him. "What's wrong with that?"

He shrugged. "Oh, nothing. But I'm just curious about the fact that you actually wantto go. Why do you like going to confession?"

"Well," I began, speaking slowly, "it makes me feel like I'm starting fresh. Like... weight has been lifted off my shoulders." Mulder nodded, still staring at me. I wiggled uncomfortably. "What are you getting at, Mulder?"

He leaned against the back of the couch, and folded his hands under his head. He just stared at me for a period. Why was he staring at me so much? I was about to reiterate my question when he finally spoke. "Confess to me."

"W-what?" I spluttered.

His grin grew even wider. Evidently, he was enjoying this. "Confess to me, Scully. I can play a pretty good priest."

"Mulder, you're— you're— you're not a priest!"

"I know. But who knows? Maybe you'll get the same emotional rush."

There were some definite reasons why I could not confess my sins to Mulder. For one, some of my sins had to do directly with Mulder. How exactly was I supposed to confess to him that I had fantasized about him AGAIN last night? Or that I had spent about half of the time on this last case looking for opportunities to stare at his ass? Plus, there was the obvious reason that it was actually kind of blasphemous in it's own way, ridiculing a priest. No, there was absolutely no way in hell I would confess my sins to Mulder—

"Hey, Scully. If you do this for me, I'll do paperwork for three months."

—except maybe if he offered to do the paperwork. "For three months?"

He grinned again. "Three months, Scully. No more, no less."

I sighed dramatically. "Okay, fine. You win. Paperwork for three months though."

"And you have to tell the truth," he said sternly.

I nodded curtly. Truth was in the eye of the beholder, as they say.

Mulder carefully assumed a sombre, apparently 'priest-like' expression. I immediately fell into giggles.

"Mulder, I think that I can't look at you," I managed to get out through fits of laughter.

"Just like a confession booth," he said approvingly.

I turned my back to him. A tingle spread up my spine as I felt his eyes on me. I started into the recitations. "Bless me father, for I have sinned. It's been a month since my last confession. I've taken the name of the Lord in vain twelve times, I've lied to my mother—"

"—what is the nature of this lie, my child?" intoned Mulder.

He was better at playing the part than I expected. I wondered if he had ever been to confession? I carefully considered what I should tell him. "I told her that I had a date on Saturday night to get her off my back, when in fact I worked late with my partner." There. It wasn't like Mulder didn't know about my lack of a social life.

After a pause, Mulder said "continue."

"Um, I've doubted the Lord several times, doubted that He had a hand in my medical abilities..." I went on through a list of my sins. Surprisingly, I was getting the 'emotional rush', as Mulder put it, that I usually got with my priest. Getting out in the open the things that were needling me was, in fact, helping me relax.

"... I've had sinful thoughts about—" OH SHIT STOP RIGHT THERE, DANA SCULLY!

Mulder immediately jumped in when he sensed my hesitation. "You've had sinful thoughts about..."

Make up something, quick! Sinful thoughts about... about... I searched frantically through my brain for something plausible. But my mind had gone blank. All that was left was a burning, deep-seated desire to tell the man sitting behind me the complete range of feelings that I felt for him. I've had sinful thoughts about... my partner. All of the reasons that I had so carefully thought out were melting away, collapsing as easily as a house of cards.

I turned around to face him slowly, gazing into his eyes. His green, brown, golden, ever-changing eyes. My heart rate increased and my head spun. Dear God, what am I doing?

"Father, I have had sinful thoughts about my partner," I said softly. And suddenly, all the reasons to not tell Mulder how I felt about him came rushing back. He wouldn't love me back and we wouldn't be friends anymore and I'd be moved off the X-files and I'd never get to see him again and all because of this idiotic mistake—

Mulder nodded calmly. Apparently, he had suspected as much. Relief washed over me. Maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay. "Do you love your partner?" he whispered, and that whisper sent a shiver down my spine. As he said it, he reached out and took my hand, playing with the palm.

I nodded. He brought the back of my hand to his lips, and kissed it softly.

"How long have you loved your partner?" he continued, and kissed my palm.

"About five years." He kissed each of my fingers.

"And why have you not told him?"

"I was afraid." He kissed my wrist. "I was afraid that my partner would feel that I was interfering with his work—" he kissed the inside of my elbow. "I was afraid that my feelings might not be returned by him." Scooting forward, he kissed my shoulder.

He cradled my face in his hands, tilting it upwards. "You should have told him sooner." His voice cracked on the last word. Then, he kissed my lips.

A feeling of excitement exploded in the pit of my stomach. It was finally happening! I twined my arms around his neck and scooted myself closer, as one of his hands tangled itself through my hair, and the other went around my waist.

That first kiss seemed to last both an eternity and a second. Mulder pulled away finally, as we both took in much needed gulps of air. He stroked my cheek with the back of his knuckles. "He should have told you sooner," he whispered directly into my ear, and kissed my earlobe.

Tears rose unbidden and began to slide silently down my cheeks. Mulder's tender smile only made me cry more. I did not deserve such a man. He gently wiped away the tears from my eyes, and kissed me again.

This kiss was much more passionate than the last one. Through a haze of desire, I dimly noted some facts, that I had wrapped my legs around his waist, or that he was carrying me the few short steps to the motel bed. I just wanted to feel as much of him against me as possible.

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My upper half was sprawled across Mulder's chest and my legs were tangled within his. I gazed at his face, sweaty from our lovemaking. He was sleeping peacefully. I looked at the old-fashioned digital clock next to the bed. Six in the morning: we'd have to get up soon for the plane. But I'd let him sleep a little longer. We'd talked a lot yesterday, talked about how we were going to handle this new facet to our relationship in the office, tried to explain how much we loved each other. We couldn't. Words couldn't describe it. I gently ran my hand through his thick, dark brown hair. He stirred beneath me and and I withdrew my hand quickly, not wanting to awaken him.

It was too late, it seemed, as Mulder opened his eyes slowly. His eyes slowly grew focused, and then his face spread into a goofy grin. I found myself falling in love with him all over again. He sighed contentedly and raised a hand to rest on my back.

"So, there's one important thing we haven't discussed yet," he said seriously.

I frowned. "What haven't we discussed?"

He smirked. "Do I make a good priest?" he asked playfully, as he traced circles up and down my spine.

"Mulder, if my priest did any of the things you did to me..." I muttered, letting my voice trail off.

He burst out laughing and kissed the top of my head. After a while, he spoke, his tone serious again. "Scully, next time you have 'sins', confess them to your priest. But confess them to me, too."

I raised myself up slightly, and looked directly into his eyes. "On one condition." He raised his eyebrows. "You have to confess to me, too."

A smile flickered across his lips. He kissed me sweetly, and then rested his chin on top of my head. "Definitely."