Breakfast Title: Breakfast
Author: Langleigh
Category: drabble-ish thingie
Keywords: DSR, Scully pov , pwp
Rating: R
Archive: Ummm... Ephemeral, SHODDS, anywhere Azar wants to put it and NO WHERE ELSE unless you ask me.
Disclaimers: What's not mine: Scully, Doggett, the X-Files
What's mine: the breakfast
Summary: Scully makes breakfast
Author's Notes: Feedback sent to Langleigh75@cs.com. Flames... well, you shouldn't send those. They aren't nice. Besides, you have to ask yourself, if you didn't like what it said in the rest of the Headers, why read this? Some sick and twisted torture? Or is it that you really, secretly like DSR and don't have the guts to admit it?

"Breakfast"

This may surprise some people, but I love to bake. It's the simplest, most domestic thing in the world, and for me, it conjures up memories of when I was young and the X-Files meant nothing to me, instead of being the thing that had so drastically changed my life. Baking brings back my sister, if only for a moment, and I can't help but remember making Christmas cookies while singing Christmas songs or putting the last minute touches on Sunday dinner. Over the years, it's become a refuge for me--the one thing I could do that I didn't have to share with anyone. Especially not Mulder.

Don't get me wrong, Mulder's been a great friend, but his life doesn't have room for homey, domestic activities... and those are the few things that have kept me sane for all these years.

But I digress. The fact is that I love to bake, and this morning, seeing the sleeping form of my lover next to me makes me want to bake for him. So I roll over and slip out of bed, thrilling as my leg accidentally touched his bare skin. I pull on a robe and pad out to the kitchen, grateful for the fact that little William was spending the night with his father.

I open the refrigerator door, and my eyes fall on the fresh quart of blueberries Mom brought over yesterday. Their rich blue reminds me of John's eyes--dark and intense. I smile, thinking about last night and how his eyes had looked into my soul while we were making love. I feel myself flush with excitement at the mere thought of it...

... and then an idea comes to me. I'll surprise John with breakfast in bed. Blueberry waffles and me... it's a combination he won't be able to resist, I think to myself as I mix the waffle batter and sprinkle it generously with the berries.

When the waffles are finished and butter is melting in each tiny square and swimming in syrup, I head back to the bedroom, taking with me the plate, one fork, and a small bowl of extra berries.

John is still lying in my bed, all stretched out as he sleeps. I set the plate on the nightstand and crawl back into bed beside him. Leaning in close to him, I kiss his lips repeatedly until he wakes and his gorgeous blue eyes flutter open. "Good morning, Agent Doggett..." I say in my best "sexy voice." We don't call each other Agent-anything anymore... not since we both gave in to our feelings for one another. But for some reason, it seemed like the appropriate thing to say.

"G'mornin,'" he says with a sleep slurred voice which his accent makes even sexier than I imagined it would. "what smells so good?" he asks.

I smile. "A surprise," I say. "Close your eyes." He complies and I straddle his abdomen while reaching for the plate. Taking the fork, I cut off one piece of the waffle and bring it to his mouth. As the sweet, berry laden food touches his lips, they part and allow the fork inside them.

His eyes open as he chews and swallows the bite of waffle. "Blueberry," he whispers, then takes the next bite I offer him. "You didn't have to make me breakfast, Dana. Today's supposed to be your day," he says, implying that today was a day off--not only from work but from my baby, as well.

"It *is* my day," I tell him. "And I wanted to make breakfast for you." I set the plate down and lean in to kiss him. His lips taste of syrup, blueberries and something else--desire.

Without warning his arms tighten around my waist, and before I know it, John flips us both, reversing our position. Now I am on the bed and he is straddling me.

"May I feed you?" he asks, his voice husky. I nod. With one hand, my lover and soul mate reaches for the fork and with the other he reaches for the belt that holds my simple terry robe in place. He unties the belt and pushes open the robe. I wonder what he's up to, but also trust him.

Waiting as time seems to slow, I close my eyes and just enjoy the feel of his skin against mine. Then something cold and sticky touches the skin on my chest and realizes what John Doggett is up to. He's about to lick the sweet condiment from my bosom. The thought rather thrills me.

I open my eyes just in time to see him lowering his head to my breasts...

(the end)