Title: Woman Enough



Author: Andrea



Rating: NC-17



Category: MSR, PWP, Scully POV



Disclaimer: I wish...then there would be no ninth season,

never mind a semi-Mulderless eighth.



Archiving: I'd be honoured, but I'd also like to know.



Notes: Thank you Aly for the great beta! This story has been

languishing on my hard drive for a while, but Aly has convinced

me to post it. 



Summary: Alcohol induced confessions.



Spoilers: The Unnatural



Feedback: Yes Please! ardywyn@hotmail.com



My other stories can be found at;

http://members.rogers.com/faloona4/aloneindex.html



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



When I opened my eyes for the second time that Saturday

afternoon the clock read 3:00, but at least the room had finally

stopped spinning. When I'd been up to stumble to the bathroom

3 hours prior, I hadn't had a headache, but I'd still been woozy.

As I lay my head back down on the pillow, I thought back to how

I'd ended with the first hangover I'd had since I was preparing

to tell Ahab I'd decided to join the Bureau.



It had all started less than 24 hours earlier. I'd been upstairs,

on the third floor of the J. Edgar Hoover building in one of the

many offices that had been partitioned off into cubicles. I'd

simply been returning the file from a case on which I'd been asked

to consult. I'd slipped my notes into the folder and was jotting

down an explanation on a Post-It note when a couple of men in the

next cubicle began to talk. It had quickly become apparent they

had no idea that I was there.



"So are you going to Ken's retirement party?" the first voice

had asked.



"I can't," the second voice had replied. "My wife and I already

had plans for next Saturday. And it's too bad; he's a good guy, I

would've liked to say good-bye."



"I meant the real party," the first speaker had lowered his

voice, but not low enough for me not to hear.



"The real party?" the second speaker had sounded confused.



"Yeah, tomorrow at the Million Dollar."



"The strip club?"



"Yeah. It's where Ken really wanted his send off, but what he

wants doesn't matter these days, does it?" I could hear the

sneer in his voice.



"No, can you imagine?" the second man had chuckled. "The

harassment charges would be flying so fast it'd make our heads

spin." The first man had laughed in agreement. "So most of the

guys are going?" the second had continued.



"Well, the ones we know we can trust. I didn't invite Wayne

from Fraud 'cause there aren't any male strippers at the Million

Dollar."



Both of the men had snickered. I could only roll my eyes. I was

pretty sure 'Wayne from Fraud' was straight -- just shy. And I

was fairly certain there were some 'good old boys' who were sure

to be invited that would have much preferred male strippers. Those

morons didn't have a clue.



"Oh, and we thought it would be best not to invite Spooky."



"Really?" the second moron sounded surprised. "From what I hear,

strippers are right up his alley."



"I know, but ten to one he'd blab to the missus and you

know what she's like."



I'd been ready to head back downstairs; prepared to just ignore

the whole incident, but that comment had made me freeze in my

tracks.



"Yeah, once a snitch, always a snitch. I'm surprised that

partnership lasted. He knew from the get-go that she was a little

traitor."



"Well, she *is* nice to look at and from what I hear..."



Whatever moron number one had been implying had been must have

been with a wink and a nudge, because he hadn't said anything.



"Yeah, I'd put up with a hell of a lot to get me some of that!"



I couldn't believe what I was hearing. They actually thought I

was a snitch! If I'd known that I'd be labeled like that, I

never would have accepted this assignment. Although, at the time,

I hadn't really felt like I'd had a choice. After that incident

with the Cancer Man, I'd felt like Mulder might never trust me

again. But after many long, gut-wrenching hours of explanations,

debates and raised voices, we'd put the issue to bed. But even

all these months later, the insinuation that Mulder might not

completely trust me shook me to my core.



It hadn't been the first time I'd heard people whispering about

what Mulder and I might or might not be doing 'down in the

basement'. But it was the first time I'd heard that particular

inference. Knowing that some people thought Mulder only

*tolerated* me because we were sleeping together only added to

my rage.



By the time I'd stepped out of the cubicle I'd been so mad I'd

been shaking. I'd stomped around to the entrance of the next

cubicle, but it was empty. I must have been seething longer than

I'd realized and I couldn't say for certain who the two men had

been. I'd been fairly sure, but not sure enough to start making

accusations.



I'd still been livid when I got back to the basement. Mulder had

jumped in surprise when I'd slammed the door behind me.



"They didn't like your suggestions?" he'd raised his eyebrows.



"What?" I'd snapped.



"The case you were looking at?" he'd refreshed my memory.



"Oh, that. I just dropped that off," I'd shaken my head in

annoyance as I'd stuffed paperwork roughly back into folders.



"So?" he'd probed.



"So what?" I'd still sounded peevish.



"So who pissed on your nonfat tofutti rice dreamsicle?"



"Men," I'd huffed and sat down in my chair.



"Hold on a second," he'd straightened up in his chair. "Sometimes

my aim may not be the best, but I would've remembered peeing on

imitation ice cream."



"Sorry, Mulder," I'd mumbled apologetically, "present company

excepted."



He'd grinned and leaned back in chair. "So what has the entire

male population, with the exclusion of me, done to make you this

angry?"



"Well," I'd been so furious I'd almost told him about being

called a snitch and him 'putting up with me', but I'd managed to

catch myself. I hadn't wanted Mulder to know that I was upset

about being called a snitch. He would've just brushed it

off and I wouldn't have wanted to explain why it was still such a

touchy subject for me. "You know Ken Hembrey's retirement party?"



"Yeah?" he'd cocked his head. I'd been able to tell right away

that he'd had no idea where I was going. "At the Marriott, next

Saturday? Are you going?"



"No, when I got the e-mail, I couldn't even put a face to the

name," I'd admitted.



"And that has you pissed off? Maybe you should try some ginko

biloba."



"Mulder!" I'd started to grow exasperated. "Will you let me

finish?"



"Sorry," he'd held up his hands in surrender. "I'm trying to

stay in your good books. The fate of my gender may be riding on

this conversation."



"Are you done?"



He'd nodded, trying to look innocent and attentive.



"Well, for your information," I'd continued haughtily, "the

*real* party is tomorrow night at the Million Dollar Club."



"I hadn't heard that," he'd tried unsuccessfully to mask his

surprise.



"Since the Bureau couldn't condone it, it was only being passed

by word of mouth. I guess word hadn't traveled down here yet,"

I'd lied.



"It is sexist, Scully, but I didn't think that kind of thing

bothered you."



While he'd been speaking, he'd been looking into my eyes, trying

to see exactly what I was thinking. He was right. If a bunch of

guys had wanted to go to a strip club to see their buddy off, I

wouldn't have cared less. It was exclusionary, but for some reason

it was one of those things I'd always shrugged off. Maybe if

Skinner had decided to have his retirement party at a strip club,

I might have been angry, but I couldn't see him doing that.



Regardless of how I really felt, I hadn't wanted Mulder to know

the real reason I was so upset. If I had told him about being

called a traitor it probably would have led to the rest of the

conversation I'd overheard. Since Mulder and I had always avoided

any serious discussion that might even hint at something sexual,

I'd decided to lie to my partner of 7 years.



"What people do on their own time is their business, Mulder,"

I'd begun, "And you're right, when it's between consenting

adults, it doesn't concern me in the least. But when you bring

it into the office, it's an entirely different situation.

I resent being patted on the head and told to go and have a nap

while the men have brandy and cigars. I will not be made to feel

like I'm unwelcome in my own workplace."



Mulder's eyes had widened as I'd ranted. "So what are you going

to do?"



"I don't know," I'd sighed.



"Are you going to file charges?"



"No!" I'd answered right away, thinking back to the snitch

comment. "That wouldn't change anything anyway. It hasn't yet."



"True," he'd nodded. "Any other ideas?"



I'd just shaken my head, feeling defeated.



"If you went, they wouldn't be excluding you," Mulder had

suggested quietly.



At first his idea had shocked me, but then I'd slowly realized

it might actually solve my real problem. I hated being thought

of as a snitch. If I went, and didn't cry harassment maybe I'd

be able to quiet the naysayers.



"There's only one problem with that idea," I'd finally responded.



"What's that?"



"I've never been to a strip club before. If I'm going to go

tomorrow night trying to act like it's no big deal, I'd like

a little experience under my belt."



"You and I could go to the nudie bar tonight," Mulder had waggled

his eyebrows at me.



"You're on," I'd agreed immediately and then laughed aloud at the

stunned look on his face.



Shaking my head at the memory of what had led to my hangover made

the room start to spin again. I lay still for a couple of minutes

while I decided what would be the best thing to do first. My

stomach was a bit queasy, but I was sure some dry toast would

make me feel a lot better. The other option was going for a

shower. The bar had been so smoky that my hair still reeked.



Deciding that I'd enjoy my toast more if my hair didn't stink, I

opted for the shower. When I was done I ran a brush through my

hair and then brushed my teeth for what seemed like half an hour.

Once my teeth felt like my teeth again I went to the bedroom,

pulled on some leggings and an over-sized t-shirt, and headed to

the kitchen to make my breakfast -- at 3:45 p.m.



I'd just started on my second piece of toast when I heard

Mulder's knock; after 7 years I could distinguish his knock from

everyone else's.



"Come on in," I waved him in with a smile when I opened the door.



"I wanted to see how you were feeling after last night," he

informed me once I'd closed the door.



"Why'd you let me drink so much?" I asked as he followed me

back to the kitchen.



"I tried to get you to slow down, Scully," he grinned as he took

a seat at the table opposite me.



"You did?" I had no memory of that. "And I wouldn't?"



"Your exact words were 'Fuck off, Mulder, I'm having fun.'," he

was smiling unabashedly at me.



"I did not!"



"You most certainly did, but you weren't nasty or anything.

You're a cute drunk," he winked at me.



"Thanks, I think."



"So if you don't remember that, what do you remember?" he put

his elbows on the table and leaned closer to me.



"Well," I tried to think back. "Of course I remember you picking

me up and then we decided it might be wise to go to a different

strip bar to keep my cover intact."



"You were stone-cold sober then," he graciously pointed out.



"Mulder, I have to do this in order and you're the one who

asked," I rolled my eyes. "I remember going into the club and

feeling completely out of place. Besides the waitresses and the

strippers, I was the only woman there."



"You mentioned that several times last night," he nodded.



"Do you want coffee or anything?" I remembered my manners.



"If you're making it," he shrugged.



With two slices of toast in my belly, it had settled down and I

thought caffeine might perk me up a bit.



"I remember getting a table at the back and ordering some draft,"

I continued as I got up to start the coffee. "I don't know if you

noticed, Mulder, but some of those women didn't seem all that

comfortable on stage. That made it kind of weird for me."



"The first few dancers were new. Didn't you hear the DJ say

that?"



"No," I admitted. I'd felt so much like a fish out of water that

I spent the first hour just taking everything in. I remembered not

being able to make out a word the DJ was saying with the

exception of the names of the performers. "Then I recall one of

the women coming over to our table. Which was weird because most

of the dancers who were circulating avoided us like the plague."



"And do you remember that she introduced herself to you and

almost completely ignored me," Mulder laughed.



"Yeah," I was leaning up against the counter, waiting for the

coffee to finish. "Her name was Andrea, but I don't think she was

your type."



"Why do you say that?"



"Well, she was pretty tiny and her breasts weren't very big," I

reminded him.



"My type doesn't have anything to do with breast size or height,

Scully," Mulder informed me tersely. "And besides, do you remember

how she moved when she was on stage?"



"She was the best dancer there," I nodded. "Anyway, then I

remember asking you about the couches off to side."



"For the VIP dances," Mulder nodded.



"Right. Then I remember having to go the bathroom. I had to use

the same bathroom that the dancers used as their, well, dressing

room, for lack of a better word."



"Was that strange?"



"I thought they might think I was an interloper, but they were

all very friendly."



The final sputtering sounds of the coffee maker was my signal to

get some mugs down from the cupboard.



"Do you remember the shooters?" I heard mirth in Mulder's

question.



"Oh God," I groaned as I reached for the coffee. "They were my

downfall. How many did I have?"



"I stopped counting at ten," I could hear awe in his voice.

"You really impressed the shooter waitress."



His mention of the shooter waitress brought another memory

flooding back. "Oh my God," I gasped. "She offered to come home

with us."



"Yes, she did," Mulder laughed as he accepted his coffee. "What

else do you remember?"



"It's all kind of foggy after that," I confessed. "Do you want

to move to the living room? These chairs seem a bit hard." All of

my muscles were sore, probably because I was dehydrated.



"I'll bet," he chuckled.



"Oh shut up. It was your idea," I reminded him.



"Not to drink that much. I had one beer all night," he was

following me as I carried my cup to the couch.



"You were driving," my tone was self-righteous.



"Do you remember when Andrea danced the second time?" Mulder

ignored my comment.



"Vaguely," I was bringing my mug to my mouth. When it was inches

from my lips, I froze. "I bought a VIP dance from her -- for

both us," I whispered.



"Yes, you did," Mulder grinned as he took a sip of his coffee.

"But I think she liked you better than me."



I didn't know what to say. I could feel my face flaming. "I

was drunk," I stammered.



"They say alcohol doesn't change who you are, Scully. It just

releases your inhibitions."



"I don't care what they say, Mulder. I'm not gay."



"I didn't say that you were," he laughed. "I'm just saying

you're obviously not opposed to the idea of a same-sex

relationship."



"A relationship?" I shook my head. "I don't think so."



"But the idea of sex with another woman doesn't turn you off,"

he kept pressing the issue.



"No, I guess not," I shrugged. "Did we go home after that?" I

wanted to change the subject.



"Nope," he raised his eyebrows, his eyes still smiling.



"I don't remember anything else," I wrinkled my forehead, but no

more memories became clear.



"Do you remember that Andrea closed out the night?"



"She danced three times?" I cocked my head.



"She was clearly the best dancer there."



"No, I don't remember that," I admitted.



"Then I guess you don't remember moving up to the sniffer row for

her last dance..."



"I didn't," I was shocked. I felt myself pale when he nodded.

"What else did I do?"



"Well, Andrea made the next move. When she saw you there she

stepped of the stage onto the counter in front you and took off

her thong. She draped it around the neck of the guy sitting next

to you. Then she bent down and kissed you."



"No!"



"Yup, lots of tongue action," he grinned.



"You're making this up because I can't remember," I accused him.



"Apparently Andrea told you that she's there all the time. Want

to go back and hear her version?"



"No," I slumped my shoulders in defeat.



"That wasn't everything, Scully."



"You've got to be kidding," I put my cup down on the coffee

table. My hands were shaking so badly I was afraid I was going to

spill it on myself."



"Nope. You were trying to give her a tip, but she didn't notice,

so you held the bill against her thigh. And then your hands slid

up a little higher. That's when the bouncer started to come

over."



"Did I get us thrown out?" I was stunned.



"No," Mulder laughed. "Andrea backed off and her show ended. When

I told you about the bouncer you went to the bathroom to

apologize to her."



"Was she mad?"



"Not from what you said when you got back. Apparently she said it

was all her fault -- she knew the rules and took things too far."



"Oh," I muttered quietly. I didn't know what to think. Mulder

seemed to find all of this very amusing, but I couldn't believe

that I'd behaved like that in front of him.



"What I really wanted to see is if you remembered what happened

on the way home," he continued.



I felt my stomach lurch and then fall. "What happened on the way

home?" I cringed, not really wanting to know.



"You were quite a chatterbox," he smiled.



"What did I say?" I sighed in resignation.



"Well, you told me the real reason you wanted to go to party

tonight."



"And what was that?" I was giving nothing away.



"Scully," Mulder began gently, "I don't care what anyone else

says, I know you aren't a snitch. I trust you more than I've

trusted any other soul. I thought you knew that."



"I guess I do," I admitted quietly, "But when I heard that

someone else was thinking it, it re-opened old wounds."



We were both quiet while I picked up my cup again and we drank

some of our coffee. Unlike most silences between Mulder and I,

this one was awkward.



"That wasn't all you said," Mulder spoke finally.



"What else did I say?" My mind was racing trying to think of

all of the possibilities.



"Well," he hesitated.



Suddenly I was terrified to find out what I'd said. What secrets

had I confessed? If Mulder was afraid to tell me, I knew it had

to be bad. If it was so hard, I wondered why he hadn't just let

it drop and pretend it had never happened.



"You said you understood that I wasn't attracted to you. You said

you wished it was different, but you could be happy with us just

being friends if that's all you have," he looked into my eyes as

he spoke.



"Oh God," I felt my stomach tighten and tears began to well up in

my eyes. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I've ruined everything now, haven't

I?"



"No, Scully, you haven't, but I didn't think it was something we

should be discussing when you were completely wasted."



Instantly I realized that Mulder wanted to tell me the cold hard

truth when I was clean and sober. "Okay," I nodded, trying to

steel myself against what he was about to say.



"What makes you think I'm not attracted to you?"



His question took me by surprise and I didn't know what to say.

"Umm," I sputtered, "Well, I think it was obvious during that

VIP dance that you were attracted to Andrea. I think the whole

bar could tell."



"That's not fair, Scully. I don't think there are many men who

wouldn't react to having an ass like hers rubbed against them.

And," he paused, "That wasn't what turned me on the most."



"Well what then?"



"Another typical guy thing," he cheeks flushed a little.



"What do you mean?" I was confused.



"Seeing her dance for you," he admitted quietly.



"Oh," I felt my own cheeks flush.



"I've had many fantasies about you, Scully, but strangely enough,

that wasn't one of them," he chuckled.



"I beg your pardon?" I wasn't sure I'd heard what I'd just heard.



"Don't you get it yet, Scully? What is it going to take? I've

tried hinting. I've even come right out and told you that I loved

you. I've kissed you. What do I have to do to convince you that

I'm not only attracted to you, I'm wildly in love with you?"



"You are?" I was quietly amazed.



"Yes, and I gather that you feel at least somewhat the same."



I could only nod, staring at him in shock.



"And I understand if you aren't head over heels, like I am. I'm

okay with that."



"What?" I couldn't process what he was saying.



"I know that you can never feel the same way I do and that's

okay," he tried to explain, still sitting at the other end of the

couch.



"I have no idea what you're talking about, Mulder, but be assured

that I love you more profoundly than I've loved any man."



"Well, I don't think we need to get into a pissing match,

Scully," he rolled his eyes.



"Mulder," I laughed in protest.



"So what do we do now?"



"You could try kissing me," I suggested with a smile.



"Okay," he shrugged.



"Well don't do anything you don't want to do," I huffed.



"I'd rather take you into the bedroom and make love to you,"

his voice had deepened, "But I'll kiss you first if you like."



I watched as he moved toward me, his eyes darkening as he got

closer. I opened my mouth to kiss him before his lips even

touched mine. When I felt his tongue touch mine, I grabbed his

head and pulled him closer. Our kiss was anything but gentle.

Our lips were crushed together, our teeth clashing and our

tongues thrusting as we finally expressed our passion.



"Wow," Mulder breathed when we had to break the kiss. "You really

must love me. You didn't kiss Andrea like that."



"Shut up, Mulder," I smacked his arm. "You're never going to let

me live that down, are you?"



"Nope," he grinned. "But there will be plenty of time to tease

you about it. Right now I want to make love to you." He stood up,

then stooped to pick me up. If he hadn't, I'm not sure if I would

have been able to make it to the bedroom.



"Mulder?" A thought suddenly occurred to me.



"Mmm hmm," he was concentrating on navigating through my

apartment while carrying me.



"What did you say last night after I made my confession?" I was

curious.



"I told you the truth, but I knew you probably wouldn't

remember," he explained.



"And I left it at that?"



"Hardly," he chuckled as he turned to go through my bedroom door.



"What did I say?" Nothing would surprise me now.



"Well, mostly the same things you said now."



"Mostly?" I asked as he set me down on the bed.



"Yeah, you wanted to make love last night," he smiled as he began

to pull off his shirt.



"And you said no," I smiled up at him.



"You remember that?" he seemed surprised.



"Not at all, but you didn't want to take advantage of me when I

was drunk," I felt my eyes sting with tears again. Was it any

wonder I loved him so much?



"That and I wanted you to remember our first time, Scully, but

you made it difficult for me," he was pushing off his jeans.



"I did?" I started to undress when I realized how far ahead of me

Mulder was.



"When I told you that we should wait until you were sober, you

agreed reluctantly, but then you noticed my erection and couldn't

keep your hands off."



"Sorry," my cheeks were flushing again.



At that point Mulder had completely undressed and I understood

why I'd had so much trouble keeping my hands off him. He looked

beautiful.



"It's the first time in my life that I've ever turned down a

blowjob, Scully," he sat down beside me and helped me with what

was left of my clothes.



"I'll make that up to you," I promised as he slid off my panties.

"Did you leave then?"



"No, you started to throw up after that," he told me distractedly

as he unhooked my bra.



"Oh God," I groaned in embarrassment. "Did I make it to the

bathroom?"



"Yeah," he assured me as he began to kiss my neck, his fingers

were trailing up the inside of my thigh.



"Then what?" I sighed through my question as he nipped at my

collar bone.



"Umm," he paused as his hand cupped my sex, making me moan

softly. "When you were done I helped you brush your teeth.

Then I made you drink a big glass of water and take some

ibuprofen. Then I helped you change into your pajamas. By the

time I left you were sound asleep."



"And you still want to make love to me?" I reached down to caress

his erection. At my touch, he closed his eyes and his head lolled.

"I'll take that as a yes," I chuckled.



"Scully," he'd regained his composure, "I love you. Something

like last night is hardly going to throw me off." Then he bent

his head to my breast, gently sucking my nipple into his mouth.



"It's hardly a sexy memory," I barely managed to form a coherent

sentence as he slipped two fingers into me.



"You're a pretty sexy drunk, Scully," he'd lifted his lips

from my breast momentarily. "Aside from the throwing up,

it'll be a great memory for me."



My hips bucked off the bed when his thumb grazed my clitoris.

He chuckled at his success and then turned his attention to my

breasts again.



"After I've recovered from last night you can get me drunk again

and feel free to take advantage of me." My head was thrown back

into my pillow.



"I hope that now, Scully, you won't have to get drunk to be

yourself around me," he countered when he paused to take a

breath. Then after easing his fingers out of me, he knelt

between my legs. "I liked how flirty you were with me last

night and I hope you don't need to be drunk to be that way,"

he told me before his lips descended to meet mine.



"I don't. I just needed to be sure of your feelings," I assured

him and then sighed when he began to slide into me.



"I hope you're sure now," his hazel eyes were very serious.



"Very sure," I breathed. "And don't worry, I won't need alcohol

to be honest with you. I promise."



"Besides," his voice was stilted from having to concentrate on

speaking, "you know that if you were drunk this wouldn't feel

nearly as good."



"I know," I agreed as he lowered his mouth to mine again.



It felt phenomenal to finally have him inside of me. I didn't

ever want to do anything that might risk diminishing that

feeling. We made love slowly, savoring each stroke, every kiss.

At last we were learning intimate details about each other that

we'd waited far too long to discover. Neither of us wanted to

rush. When Mulder finally collapsed to the bed panting, I

couldn't stop shaking.



"Are you okay?" he was instantly concerned.



"Too many orgasms, too little food," I chuckled breathlessly.



"I'll make you something. What do you want?" he sat up.



"A bagel will be fine. Thanks, Mulder."



When he got back, I ate it greedily, feeling better with each

bite.



"You're getting some color back into your cheeks," Mulder said

with relief. "I didn't think there was such a thing as too many 

orgasms, but you were really pale."



"Sorry. Still recovering," I apologized. "And it was only too many 

orgasms for the amount of food I'd eaten. Next time I'll be sure

to load up on carbs," I added with a wink.



"Are we going to stay in tonight then?" he tucked a strand of

hair behind my ear.



"Are you kidding?" I exclaimed through a mouthful of bagel. "I

didn't go through the training exercise only to scrap the

mission. Even if I only make an appearance, I'm going. You can

stay here if you like."



"No, I'll come," Mulder responded quickly. "Who knows, Andrea 

might be working the Million Dollar Club tonight."



end



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