AUTHOR: Nicola Simpson
DATE: July 28, 1995
CATEGORY: Crossover (X-Files) Ensemble
DISCLAIMER: I mean no disrespect to Chris Carter, 10-13 Productions, and 20th Television, whose property our intrepid duo is. Really. I mean it. If they don't believe me, they can sue me. They can take it out of my student loan, save me the trouble...
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Sequel to Palm Springs/Outpatient. This story depicts acts of a sexual nature. Well, at least they give it a shot anyways...
SUMMARY: A romantic mishap and Scully ends up in the emergency room.
"Ah, back in the Windy City once again," Mulder sighed as he flopped back on the firm hotel mattress. He raised an eyebrow. "But what are we doing here?"
A muffled female voice came from the bathroom. "Solving a case, Mulder."
"The case is over, Scully." He rolled over onto his stomach and grunted softly. He toed his shoes off of his proportionally large feet currently dangling off the bed and tilted his head. "And we're still here."
"Hmph." It sounded like her head was shut inside a drawer. Maybe she was inspecting the bathroom cabinets for bugs or something.
He compared the pattern of his purple tie to that of the quilted bedcover and continued casually, "I meant *here* more immediately." His hazel eyes scanned the room and took in the wingchairs and an antique reproduction writing desk. Ooh ooh ooh, and a minibar. "Skinner doesn't usually go for the Four Seasons."
His flame-haired partner stood in the doorway of the large marble-tiled bathroom, brandishing a hairdryer. "No, but I do." His eyebrow shot up yet again as Scully pursed her lips. "Mulder, Skinner knows we're here, at my expense. Not the Bureau's."
"What about the rooms?"
"What about them?"
"We're only using one."
"Yes, but we still have the other one in our name."
"Do you honestly think he'll believe that?"
"Does he have any other proof?"
"You never know. He probably has flunkies trained on us right this second."
"God, you're paranoid."
He puffed up his chest in pride. "I have good reason to be."
She was sober for a moment, leaning against the doorframe. Mulder reached over, still lying on the bed, and grabbed her hand. He pulled her gently over to the bed, she sat down beside him. His eyes trailed up her legs from her stocking clad feet to her straight navy skirt. He idly wondered if she was wearing garters. She felt his gaze on her and blushed. She still marvelled at the turn their relationship had taken, happily surprised that it was working so well. Skinner didn't know yet. At least she hoped he didn't. He hadn't said anything to either of them, but that didn't necessarily mean anything.
She swung her legs up on the bed and lay down beside Mulder. Her legs didn't dangle over the other end like his, they curled up slightly to touch his knees as she lay on her side facing him. His eyes moved downwards, noticing her firm thighs exposed by the movement. She *was* wearing garters. He thanked his lucky stars he was lying on his stomach. *However,* he wryly mused, *he'd rather be lying on her stomach.*
Dana interrupted his train of thought. "Well, after the last fiasco in Chicago-" Mulder flashed back to frequent visits to Cook County General Hospital, "-and our last 'vacation'..." Ah, Palm Springs. Mulder smiled as Scully finished. "I thought maybe
we'd try just taking a few days holiday here." She glanced at him worriedly. "Any objections?"
He turned onto his side and wordlessly hauled her against him. His warm lips brushed hers gently as she kept her eyes wide open, searching his for... for something she wasn't quite sure of. His right hand trailed over her hip and his eyes flew open to meet her penetrating gaze. Objections? He smiled softly as he reached down to slowly unfasten her garters. Her breath caught in her throat as his hands tickled the tops of her thighs.
Her small hands stilled his movement briefly. "Don't you want to go sightseeing?" Her voice was low and husky, and he reluctantly pulled away from her and stood up. He pulled at his tie, and unbuttoned his shirt as he moved across the room. Her mouth went distinctly arid as she saw the finely toned muscles play in his lean back when he shrugged the shirt off his shoulders. He stopped near the window and opened the drapes, exposing an incredible view of Lake Michigan.
He turned back and smiled slowly, his eyes burning into hers. "We. Are. Now. Sightseeing."
She couldn't stand it anymore, she had to have him. She moaned softly just watching him stroll across the room back to the bed. The kingsize hotel bed that she had every intention of using to its last inch. With him.
Lying against the pillows, her head tilted at him as he approached her. Without warning, he pounced, pinning her under him. She could feel the heat radiating off him as she squirmed in his silent embrace, wanting, warning, waiting. He kissed her light ly, his tongue outlining her rosy trembling lips. Just as suddenly as he covered her, he sat back on his heels, between her legs, and reached down.
He unrolled her left stocking, his hot fingers brushing against her sensitive thighs, behind her knees, the fine bones of her ankles and feet. She gasped as he tickled her, aroused beyond her imagination by the simple touch on her legs. He moved to her
right, and instead of fingering the top of the stocking, his hand moved to her core, stripping away her defences as she bit back a scream of delight.
He grinned, and continued his play with one hand while removing her remaining silk stocking with the other. Soon, her face was flushed and her breath was coming more heavily. Her eyes shut and her head twisted back and forth on the pillow like a flicke ring flame.
"Mulder..." she sighed keeningly. He leaned over her, not touching her, almost careful not to breathe on her. He wanted to fan her desire, but slowly. Gently. Irrrevocably. She was too impatient, and flew up to reach him.
There was a sickening crunch as her face connected with his head. She screamed, but not in delight. Mulder went pale as her lips contorted in agony. He sat back and rubbed his forehead, wincing.
Salty tears streamed down her less-flushed cheeks at the same time as blood started to trickle from her nose. Mulder ran to the bathroom to get a towel to staunch the flow, which quickly accelerated from a steady flow to a gushing rapid.
Dana's face went ashen as she saturated one handtowel and walked into the bathroom for another. Mulder was already on the phone calling the house doctor, much to his partner's muffled protests.
"Bulder, I'b a doctor," she mumbled, but he ignored her. "Besibes, it's dot that buch blood." Her cheeks turned grey and she dropped the bloody towel in the now red-streaked tub.
He caught her before her head hit the Italian tile.
"Agent Mulder, this *is* a surprise."
"Hysterical, Jerry." Mulder motioned towards his still-unconscious companion being wheeled in by the paramedics. "Dr. Green around?"
Jerry shook his head apologetically. "How about Dr. Lewis?" Mulder absently nodded, his eyes never leaving Scully. He could still hear the laughter in the man's voice. "Maybe we should offer you guys a frequent visitor plan." He turned back only to scowl at him playfully, then followed Dr. Lewis to Exam Room 4.
Susan Lewis shook his hand briefly, smiling at the memory of their last visit. This time, it was Scully who was hurt, not her lanky partner. Crazy.
Mulder motioned at Dana. "She hit her head, and her nose wouldn't stop bleeding. She fainted, and the hotel doctor called an ambulance."
Lewis turned to Carol Hathaway, who was suppressing a grin at the arrival of the FBI agents. "Pack it. Drain the cavities while starting a whole unit drip to replace the blood loss." She wheeled back on Mulder. "What did she hit her head on?"
A slight blush tinged his cheeks. "Me."
Lewis raised an eyebrow, looking very Scully-like. "What hotel?"
His foot scuffed the linoleum floor. "Four Seasons."
The other eyebrow shot up violently as a corner of the doctor's mouth quirked. "On a case, Agent Mulder?"
He grinned at her. "No."
Susan smiled back at him and turned to Scully. She ordered him gently to leave them.
Twenty minutes later, Scully was awake again and, though still pale, feeling much better. Dr. Lewis easily ruled out an aneurysm, and put the excessive blood down to low clotting factors.
"I want to keep her here overnight, just to make sure that she hasn't ruptured anything in her brain cavity," Lewis informed Mulder. "If you want to stay..." He nodded.
Hathaway interjected, "I'll arrange for a cot, okay?"
"Mulder, you don't have to carry me."
He grunted in response as he tried valiantly to fit the key in the lock. She jumped down, snatched the key and swung the door open herself.
"Scully, would you please just sit down."
"Mulder, I'm fine."
He wrapped his hands on her hips and pushed her towards the bed. She sat down, jostling the mattress. Her turquoise eyes gazed up at him, amused and embarrassed at his concern. Mulder stood over her, watching her carefully for signs of... whatever.
She tried to leer at him, but her head was spinning already. "We can try again, Mulder." She reached up and let the backs of her hands trail down his chest. They flipped over and deftly plucked at his shirtbuttons until he stopped her.
"Are you sure, Scully?"
She sighed, exasperated. "Mulder, I'm *fine*." She wasn't quite sure of that, but she felt so guilty for almost ruining their vacation. "I want-"
His fingers covered her mouth gently, cutting her off. "We'll be careful, okay?" Her only response was a muffled sigh and smile against his index finger. It tickled the delicate skin around the edge of her bottom lip, and her pink tongue poked between
his fingers. He bent down and replaced them with his mouth, drowning her in erotic titillation. She pulled him back on the bed and rolled on top of him, opening the last button on his chambray shirt still rumpled from him sleeping in it the previous night.
She winced at a sudden stabbing pain in her sinuses as she leaned over him. She masked her discomfort quickly as she flicked his nipples with her tongue, and trailed across his abdomen. Goosebumps raised on his skin, cooling in the evaporation of her e xplorations. He groaned as she undid his belt buckle, and shifted uncomfortably as he heard the rasping buzz of the zipper permeate his senses. She smiled in her new-found power and sat up quickly to pull the jeans off his lean muscled legs.
Suddenly, everything went black, and she toppled backwards, falling off the bed. Mulder sat up in fuzzy shock, reaching for her before she hit the floor. She hit the desk first. He couldn't help stifling a giggle at the sight of her half-naked, sprawled on the floor, her head at a strange angle against the mahogany legs. Until he noticed
that she was unconscious.
His heart sunk. *Oh no, not again.*
"What the hell are you doing, Hathaway?" Mulder glared at her as Dana was wheeled once again into a trauma room.
"Looking for the revolving door," she replied cheekily.
"Lucky you, Dr. Green is in today." She pointed down the hall.
In Trauma Room Four, Dr. Green was trying to resuscitate Scully, and an IV had already been started. He turned to Mulder as he came in the swinging doors.
"What happened, Agent Mulder?"
"Where? Off what? Onto what?"
"The Four Seasons. The bed. Against a desk." People in green and pink scrubs whirled around them, doing their jobs.
Mark Green chuckled inwardly. "You know, Mulder, I don't think that was the kind of bedrest Dr. Lewis had in mind when she let Dr. Scully go this morning."
Mulder ignored him. "Will she be okay?"
"Yeah, I think so. Probably a concussion." Mulder sighed, inexpressibly relieved for the second time in 24 hours. Green continued, dashing Mulder's hopes slightly. "We'll have to keep her here again to make sure that's all it is though."
Carol piped in from across the room. "I'll see if I can get your old room, Mr. Mulder."
He smiled in spite of himself. "Maybe we should just check in here next time we're in town, instead of bothering with a hotel."
Dr. Green laughed, then prodded Mulder out the swinging doors and turned his attentions back to the tiny woman lying on the gurney.
Scully was sleeping naturally in a familiar narrow bed. Mulder sat in a chair beside it, his dark tousled head resting on the blanket beside her hip. His arm reached up to hold her hand in his, his thumb traced over the delicate veins in her wrist.
"You know, Scully, next time, let's just hit each other on the head with baseball clubs for our vacation. It would be *so* much easier." Her small dry palm squeezed his knuckles together imperceptibly, and he fell asleep.
[author's note: um, the above "accidents" have both happened to me in bed with my boyfriend in the last year. I wasn't hospitalized, but we were laughing so hard it was hard to perform afterwards...] nic.