Title: NEW: Little White Lie Author: mimic117 Email: mimic1172@gmail.com Rating: NC-17 for adult subject matter. Nothing graphic, though. Category: S, PWP, mild MT Spoilers: nada, zip, bupkis Summary: Sometimes a little white lie will get you in a lot less trouble than the whole truth. Keywords: M/S UST, one-bed fic Archive: By all means, feel free to house it wherever you like. I'll do Gossamer and Ephemeral myself, thanks. Disclaimer: I'm really getting sick of saying this, but these original characters aren't mine. I don't think the creators deserve them anymore, but that's not my call. I promise to put them back where I found them; a bit tired but also happier, too. Author's Notes: Just a weird little idea I got one day when I was supposed to be doing something else. My muse likes to do that. Thanks: To all the readers who have taken the time to let me know how much they've enjoyed my stories. This fic is the direct result of your encouragement. So it's not my fault, y'all. Specific beta thanks: To Jake, for giving it the thumbs-up in record time. And to Dan, because he actually read it without having to cover his eyes. I guess you're a big boy now. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Little White Lie by mimic117 9:45 PM Pennsylvania Turnpike Bedford County, Pennsylvania "Mulder, just take the damned pills." Sparing a quick glance away from the snowstorm that was pelting down on the windshield of their rental car, Scully took in the pinched look on her partner's face. It was obvious that he wasn't going to do as she said, so why was she still trying to change his mind? "No. We've been over this already, Scully." "I don't understand why you're acting like this." "You know painkillers knock me out. We still have a long way to drive." "So just take one instead of the prescribed dosage." "I'll still get drowsy. I'm not going to sit over here drooling in my sleep and leave you without someone to watch your back." Before Scully could open her mouth to reply, the rear of the car fishtailed on the slush-covered road. Clamping her lips into a thin line, she concentrated on spinning the wheel against the slide, seesawing the car back and forth until it straightened again. Mulder made no comment other than to clutch his left arm and grunt in pain as he was flung back and forth in his seat. Scully blew out a relieved breath as they resumed a more cautious progress down the deserted highway. "Then you don't need to worry, because I'm stopping at the next motel I see and getting us rooms for the night. This snow is getting worse, and you're in no shape to be sitting in the car for hours." Scully's fingers tightened on the steering wheel in response to Mulder's put-upon sigh. She chanced a peek at him only to find herself looking at the back of his head as he stared out the window into the flake-specked darkness. When Mulder insisted on going home instead of staying in Pittsburgh, it had seemed like a good idea. The airport was closed because of sudden snow squalls, but the storm was traveling northeast and they were going south, so even driving for six hours didn't appear too bad if it got them home faster. At least until the storm front sped up, shifted south, and started dumping right on them before they'd even made it out of the state. Seeing the fuzzy glow of a large neon sign up ahead through the snow, Scully heaved her own long-suffering sigh and slid into the parking lot of the Ease E Motor Lodge. Stopping in front of the sign that said "office," she put the car in park, leaving it running. "I'll be right back." She waited for Mulder to say something, but the only response she got was a jerk of his head as he continued staring out the window. Scully got out, then slammed the car door with unnecessary force. The news she received in the motel office didn't improve her temper. It seemed everyone else who was traveling that night had wised up before she did, and all available rooms were booked. Except one. Which only had one bed. A double bed -- not a queen. It appeared this was also the only motel in the area that hadn't modernized their rooms since the 1950s. Tense silence reigned in the car as she drove around to the back of the building and found their room number. Scully didn't bother to offer Mulder any help as he struggled to unfasten his seat belt and get out. By the time he'd joined her at the motel room door, Scully was regretting her mental hissy fit. Mulder limped slowly toward her, his face pinched and pale. Sweat beaded his hairline, even though the bitter wind blew snow into his face, and he cradled his left arm with his right, in spite of the sling. Scully turned to unlock the door, biting her lip to keep any solicitous comments to herself. She felt guilty about her petty attitude, but she wasn't ready to admit that she was being childish just yet. She flipped on the light switch as Mulder followed her into the room. It looked better on the inside than she'd expected. The bed was covered in a colorful quilt-patterned spread. A painting of a spring meadow over the headboard reflected the colors in the spread, giving the room a light, cheery atmosphere. Walking to a door in one corner, Scully opened it to find an equally cheery, full- sized bathroom, not a counter-sink in the bedroom with the tub and toilet closed away. This was a real bathroom, with a vanity sink, combination tub and shower, and plenty of space to move around. Scully foresaw a nice long soak in a tub full of steaming water in her immediate future. Coming out of the bathroom, she realized that Mulder had stopped just inside the door. He was surveying the small room as though there was something nasty under the bed. "Is this your room or mine?" he asked. "They only had the one room." He looked pointedly at the double bed. "So which of us is sleeping in the car?" "Neither. We're going to act like grown-ups and share." Scully pulled the bottle of pain pills out of her jacket pocket and plunked them on the dresser with an audible snap. "I'll be right back with the luggage." Scully fumed to herself over the fact that he hadn't offered to help, even as she acknowledged that she wouldn't have let him if he had. Popping the trunk open, she wrestled the two suitcases out of the shallow compartment, thumping them to the ground, then slamming the lid. All the excessive force wasn't really necessary, and now their luggage was going to be wet from sitting on the snowy ground, but it was better than following her initial instinct, which was to thump Mulder a good one. She'd almost managed to talk herself into a better mood by the time she dragged the luggage through the snow into the room. Hearing water running in the bathroom fanned her remaining shreds of irritation into a nice bonfire of perturbation. "You're not taking a shower, are you?" she shouted, banging on the bathroom door. "Those scrapes have to stay dry for at least a couple days." The water stopped running, but there was only silence for several long seconds. When Mulder finally answered, she could hear the controlled sarcasm dripping from every word. "Thank you, DR. Scully. I already got that lecture from your colleague in the emergency room. I'm just going to use a wash cloth to clean off some of the funk and grime, if that's okay with you." Scully snorted in annoyance. "Whatever, Mulder. Just be careful not to get those scrapes wet." His only answer was the renewed thunder of water in the sink. She set about getting the room ready for the night as she waited for her partner to finish his ablutions. Turning up the thermostat on the wall heater, Scully scowled at the ominous rattle coming from the ancient unit. The air being produced seemed lukewarm at best. Past experience with cranky old motel heaters had her checking to see if there were extra blankets available. She was relieved to find a decent supply of polar fleece linens in the dresser's bottom drawer. Mulder finally emerged from the bathroom, clad only in a pair of shorts, angry red scrapes on prominent display. The sling was missing, but he supported his left arm across his chest. It was obvious he was in a world of hurt. His face was no longer pale -- it was gray and drawn. The vertical lines between his brows etched deep furrows of misery into his forehead. He held himself stiffly, moving his entire body as a unit, as though it were a solid block of wood incapable of bending. "How did you get your shirt off?" Scully asked. "Very carefully." The words came out in shreds through gritted teeth. Mulder limped to the dresser and picked up the pill bottle in his right hand. When he was able to flip it off with his thumb, Scully was glad she'd thought to ask for a non-child-proof cap. She retrieved a glass of water from the bathroom and handed it to him. The look on Mulder's face when he took it told her that he wasn't going to apologize for being a shithead, but he was sorry, anyway. "You want to sleep on your right side, Mulder, or on your back with your left side at the edge of the bed so I don't bump you by accident?" Apology accepted. Downing one pill, he handed the glass back. "I'd better take the left," he said. "Sleeping on my back is almost automatic after so many years on the couch." Scully took the glass to the bathroom and returned with the discarded sling. "Let me help you get this back on, then," she said. When Mulder grimaced in distaste, she raised an eyebrow at him. "I know you don't like sleeping trussed up, but it will keep you from flinging your arm around in your sleep. I don't think you'd enjoy waking up in the kind of pain that would cause." The resulting stare-down wasn't much of a contest. Bowing his head in defeat, Mulder pulled his left arm away from his chest with his right hand. It took both of them working together to get the sling on while avoiding the pebbled scabs running from shoulder to elbow. By the time they were done, Mulder's eyes were at half mast from the painkiller. Pulling back the blankets on the bed, Scully helped him to lie down. She tried to cover him as warmly as possible without putting undue pressure on his scrapes. His slight hiss of pain told her that she'd been only marginally successful. Scully watched as Mulder's eyes drooped shut within seconds. Time for that nice hot soak, she decided. Opening her suitcase, she removed her flannel pajamas and toiletries bag. "Scully?" Having assumed he'd fallen asleep, she jumped at the sound of his voice. "What, Mulder?" "Where ya goin'?" Turning to look at him, Scully saw that Mulder's eyes were open again, although no more than half way. He was still fighting the medication, but not for much longer. "I'm going to take a hot bath before I go to sleep. Okay?" Mulder slowly blinked a couple of times before nodding. Scully nodded back and headed for the bathroom. Just as her hand touched the doorknob, Mulder spoke again. " 'm sorry for givin' you a hard time. I know you're just tryin' ta take care o' me." She huffed a loud sigh before turning back to him. "You can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, Mulder." "I know," he replied, smirking. "I'll share my painkillers if ya need some for your ass." Scully couldn't suppress a tiny smirk of her own. "I'll save those for you. You're a lot easier to handle when you're drugged." Her smirk turned into a grin as Mulder snickered and snuggled down into his pillow. "Enjoy yer bath, Scully," he mumbled, eyes drooping shut once more. "Don' stay in too long. Ya turn inna a pink raisin and have ta get a new photo ID and name badge. 'Special Agen' Dana Prune.' It just don' have the proper ring o' authority." Stifling a chuckle that wanted to bubble out of her throat, Scully watched her partner until his mouth dropped open to snore. The sleeping arrangements might be less than ideal, but there was no one she'd rather be snowbound with. Smiling, she retreated to the bathroom and thoroughly enjoyed a very relaxing, steamy bath. She did check to make sure she wasn't too wrinkled when she got out, though. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Scully had been asleep for only a couple of hours before she awoke to the sound of chattering teeth. The room was not only cold and dark, but quiet. It took her a few moments to register several facts. 1. Mulder was not in the bed. 2. The heater was the cause of the silence. 3. It was Mulder's teeth chattering, not hers. She popped her head out of the nest of blankets into the frigid air and squinted at his shadow against the closed curtains. "Why are you up instead of still in a drugged stupor, Mulder?" There was the sound of a hand feebly slapping metal, then a deep sigh. "You were hogging all the covers and the cold woke me up. I think the heater has been called home to Jesus, Scully." Snaking a hand out from under the covers, Scully turned on the bedside lamp. Mulder stood in his shorts next to the silent wall unit, blinking in the sudden glare and visibly shaking. "Mulder, you're covered in goosebumps." "Thanks for not noticing how the cold air has affected other parts of my anatomy." Scully ignored the comment and pointed to the dresser. "There are extra blankets in the bottom drawer. Grab some and get back in bed." She couldn't tell if Mulder waggled his eyebrows at her or if he was just shivering harder. Fishing the requested items out of the dresser drawer with one hand, Mulder tossed them onto the bed. Scully spread them out as fast as she could while Mulder limped back to his side of the bed and crawled under the covers. She saw him wince as the sheet dragged over his scrapes. "Will you be able to go back to sleep?" she asked. "You look like you're still in some pain." "I guess the cold has me sober again. I'll probably be fine once I warm up." Without a word, Scully shimmied out from under the warm blankets and dashed for the pill bottle on the dresser. Sprinting to the bathroom, she returned with half a glass of water. Shoving them both into Mulder's outstretched hand, she squirmed back under the covers. "Take two pills," she said, teeth chattering. "You need to get a good night's sleep." She was all set for an argument, so the empty glass being returned to her was a nice surprise. Setting the glass on the end table, Scully switched off the light and burrowed back under the covers. Reaching across the few inches of space between them, she rubbed Mulder's chilly, shivering arm. Mulder snickered as the pain medication started to take effect again. "You know," he said, "I'll bet that thing about being naked in a sleeping bag with somebody else who's naked works just as well under a mound of blankets." "Uh huh." Scully didn't stop her firm caresses on his arm. In fact, she scooted closer until she was lying against it, then moved her hand to his chest. That didn't seem to be warming up, either. "I don't think blankets qualify, but I'll let you know if it starts to snow sleeping bags. Now close your eyes and concentrate on getting warm." "Oh, I'm warmin' up jus' fine, thank you." Mulder was back to slurring his words. "How come I never get this kind of 'tention 'less 'm injured or sick?" Scully grinned in the dark. "Because I like you best when you can't fight back. Go to sleep now." To her surprise, he did. With her hand still laying on his chest, it didn't take long before she followed after him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ When Scully next awoke, she realized three things. 1. It was almost light. 2. It was still cold. 3. She was lying on Mulder's hand. It was wedged right between her thighs. Her upper thighs. More like right against her crotch. And his fingers were twitching. That was what woke her -- the feeling of something moving against the most sensitive, throbbing, tingling portion of her anatomy. She appeared to have rolled closer to Mulder's body heat during the night and landed on the flexed fingers of his right hand. He was still asleep, making little whistling noises through his nose. She was now awake. Wide awake. And in something of a dilemma. She really needed to get off his hand. But she didn't want to wake him. And his fingers were still twitching in his sleep. And his thumb was rubbing in just the right spot. And it felt amazing. Scully didn't think she could move away if the blankets caught on fire. Shifting just slightly, she began a gentle, downward grinding motion with her hips. Those fingers were tickling in exactly the right spot. Especially the thumb, which was wedged right up against her swollen bundle of nerves. Her nipples were achingly tight and rubbing against the inside of her pajama top with just the right amount of friction. But her own body was conspiring against her, releasing endorphins into her blood stream that weren't the least bit interested in what her mind was saying. So she continued to hump her sleeping partner's hand. She didn't even stop when Mulder snuffled in his sleep and moved. Because when he moved, his hand jerked. And when his hand jerked, his thumb drove straight up. Right where Scully needed it most. Grinding and pulsing and swiveling as much as she could against those long, twitching fingers, Scully lost all sense of right and wrong. There was only now, and the sizzling sparks racing across every nerve ending. Burying her face into the pillow right next to Mulder's ear, she stifled her groans and blocked out all sensations except the ones that centered between her thighs. <... can't do this, can't, can't... shit. I did.> Her orgasm was glorious. Slow, hot, melting the ache in her breasts as it blazed through her body. Her hips continued to pulse for a few moments, drawing out the sweet satisfaction that flushed her damp skin. Picking her face up out of the smashed pillow, Scully opened her eyes, blinking the drooping lids until her gaze settled on the sleeping face of her partner. Realization set in with a thud. Scully gasped and leapt out from under the blankets. Standing in the frigid room, sweat cooling on her over-heated skin, the Catholic guilt kicked in. But guilt only lasts so long, when your carnal side has a say. Climbing gingerly back into the bed, Scully stretched out on her side and laid as stiff as a board, staring at Mulder's sleeping face. The room brightened as morning announced its arrival with sound of dripping eaves and the glow of watery sunshine. The debate inside her head continued undiminished, until she thought she was going to need a referee to settle the argument. Whether or not to tell Mulder became a moot point the minute his eyes opened to see her lying next to him, staring. He gave her a muzzy smile and brought his hand up to rub the sleep from his face. Mulder frowned. Scully watched in fascinated horror as he sniffed his hand, then his arm. Then sniffed again. When he looked at her with a question in his eyes, she could only hope that the words "I fucked your hand while you were sleeping!" weren't written all over her face. "My skin smells funny." "Umm, it's probably just the antiseptic residue from when they cleaned up your arm at the hospital. That's all. Better get up now. We've still got a long drive ahead of us." Brow still indented with puzzlement, Mulder nodded. Scully noticed that sitting up in the bed wasn't quite as big a struggle for him as it had been the previous night. He seemed to be alert, if not awake, and his scrapes still looked raw, but not inflamed. She just hoped he wasn't aware enough to realize that the odd smell was on the wrong arm to be from antiseptic. Scully decided that bustling to pack and leave would be a good distraction. They agreed to find somewhere else to eat once they were on the road. A peek outside the window showed that the sudden snow was disappearing as fast as it had arrived. The morning sun beat down with cheery intensity, and already there were large patches of nothing but soggy earth and gravel. If the roads were clearing as fast, they would be home somewhere between lunch and supper. Scully kept up a steady pace of gathering the few items they'd unpacked. After her lecture of the previous night, she couldn't very well tell Mulder to wash his arm. So she worked to get them out of the room as fast as possible before the pieces snapped together in his brain and identified the smell. They were doing just fine until the time came to put a shirt on him. Scully helped him to ease the T-shirt sleeve over his left arm and was in the process of refastening his sling when Mulder slid his right arm through the other sleeve -- and brought it up to his nose. She froze. "Uh, we'd better... get moving. I'm hungry. Aren't you?" The tell-him/don't-tell-him debate recommenced. Scully knew he'd see right through any falsehood she tried to utter, but she couldn't come down on either side of the fence. And time was running out. She cringed as Mulder sniffed, hard. "Are you sure?" Drawing herself up to her full height, Scully looked her partner dead in the eye. "Mulder, would I lie to you?" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ THE END Author's babbling: Odd little bit of nonsense, isn't it? I think I'm going to blame cratkinson. Her story, "Nocturnal Admissions," was the inspiration for this one. It made me wonder what would happen if Scully were in a similar situation. If you haven't read cratkinson's story, you really need to treat yourself right away. Then tell her how good it is so she'll write some more like that. Feedback on this story, or any of my other stories, or even stories by another author, is fawned over and stroked to tatters at mimic1172@gmail.com. Feel free to visit my other fics at http://mimicsmusings.com/fics