chapter 7. Lying on her back, staring at the moonlit ceiling, Scully sighed for the thousandth time and wondered how she was going to handle this. No. Wait... She wasn't going to `handle' anything. That was the point. She sighed yet again. Oh, damn. This was too hard. She pulled the covers up to her chin and then flopped them back down to her chest in exasperation. Leave them too far down and it looked wanton. Too far up to her chin and it looked defensive. She pulled them to cover most of her breasts as a compromise. There. That would have to do. And if he laughed at her puppy-covered night shirt, well, she'd just have to hurt him. Not as if she'd planned on sharing her bed. She sighed. Would have worn slightly different jammies, had she known. Perhaps something in the silk department. Or the skin dep... The bathroom door clicked open and the light shone through into the bedroom. Scully closed her eyes briefly and prayed she could get through this without betraying, or embarrassing herself. A damp, spiky head poked in. "You still awake?" he whispered. Scully momentarily toyed with the idea of playing possum, but she didn't think for a moment she'd be able to carry it off, being as she was as rigid as a board. "Yes. I'm awake," she sighed. "Sorry. Did I wake you?" She shook her head, then realising he probably couldn't see all the way over to the bed in the dark, answered him. "No. You didn't. I was just lying here, studying the ceiling." Coming all the way into the room clutching clothes, she saw his teeth appear in the moonlight. "Yeah. Strange bed. I know what you mean." Still wearing his black tee shirt, he padded over to the window and draped his jeans over the chair back, throwing his socks on the floor. Scully snapped her eyes away. No pants...no pants....no pants her mind chanted. Oh god, she couldn't look. Not at his bare legs. She turned her head and looked. Not much to see in this light, but they looked good enough to her. Strong and hard. She averted her eyes as he turned to face her, pretending to pick at some fluff on the covers. "You sure you're okay with this?" he asked again, standing on the edge of her vision. "Just get in," she sighed. If she stopped to think about it, she'd get up and run from the room. "Okay... as long as you're...' "I'm sure, John, for goodness sake! I trust you, okay?" He grunted and turned back the edge of the covers. "Weird, or what?" he said, sliding into the bed. "You have no idea," she muttered, trying not to hold her breath. The bed dipped crazily to his side. She was going to tip... her eyes widened in panic, then calmed as he settled and the tilting stopped. Mostly. She could still feel herself being pulled to the one side, with his extra weight. Please let me get through this... Please let me get through this... she chanted in her head, feeling the warmth of another body seep into the air beneath the covers. She could smell shower soap. Couldn't smell him, yet. He fidgeted a bit, then lay still, on his back. Then fidgeted some more. Scully rolled her eyes. A thrasher. She just knew it. He was a thrasher. She'd never get a wink of sleep. He wriggled again. Sighing, Scully turned to look at him. "Is something wrong?" He met her eye. "No," he said, not sounding very sure at all. "Liar," she replied. "No... it's fine, everything's fine." he smiled and then went back to staring at the ceiling. Scully closed her eyes and tried to relax. She tried to count sheep in her head. No good. He moved and put her off. She recited the names of the bones in the human body. Nah. She was as rigid as ever. More wriggles. Heaving a heartfelt sigh, Scully turned her head again. "What?!" "Nothing," came the reply, his eyes still staring up. This was nuts... A sudden thought occurred. She frowned. "Are you still in pain?" His head snapped round. "No. Really. I'm fine." he smiled, and nodded. "Fine." "Are you sure? Because I have some meds..." "No, honestly, thank you. I'm okay." He paused, then sighed. "It's just..." "What?" He shook his head. "Nothing." Scully gritted her teeth. "What?" "It's nothing. Go to sleep." "I'm trying to. But someone keeps flapping the covers and thrashing about like a maniac." She tried to keep the snip out of her voice, she really did. But she was sure the tension of the moment coloured her voice. "Sorry." "What's the matter?" She sighed. "Is it me?" "No..." He looked at her, genuinely sincere. He rolled his eyes. She could see the whites flash in the moonlight. "I just don't usually..." "Sleep with your partner?" She grunted. "Tell me about it." That got a gentle laugh out of him. "No. Yes..." He sighed "Oh, you know what I mean. But it's just that I don't normally wear a shirt in bed. It's drivin' me nuts." "Oh..." Multiple visions of a bare chested Doggett danced across her mind's eye, dazzling her and taking her breath. Oh. My. God. Bare... First instinct was to scream, cheer and clap, second was to cough and clear her throat again, but instead, she shrugged and tried to use a normal voice, desperately grateful he couldn't see the colour she'd gone. "So take it off. Then maybe we can get some sleep." God, she was proud of the way that came out. Just the right side of exasperation and impatience. No trace of lust or longing in there at all. Go girl! "Great, thanks." As if he'd been desperate to do something about it, he sat up suddenly and pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it on the floor. Scully's eyes bulged with the sudden rush of blood to her face. She stared as her mind did the quick unveiling in delicious slow-motion. The exposure of the small of his back first... followed by his belly, thin stripes of flesh concertina'ed where he bent in the middle... then up over his chest... twin pecs that bulged and flexed as the strong arms pulled the clothing up... a glimpse of almost hairless armpits... and then it was over, and he was lying back down with a sigh, the covers up to his nipples. "That's better," he smiled. It sure was, Scully thought as the blood from her face rushed south to lie uncomfortably in her crotch. She looked over at him, all mussed hair and crooked grin and had to literally slide her hands underneath her ass to keep from reaching over and pulling the covers down to expose those light brown nipples again. God. You have no pity, she muttered, wondering if she was ever going to be able to close her eyes again. "*Tell* me you're keeping the shorts on?" she begged, before her mind could provide her with any more temptation. He laughed and turned to look at her. "Oh, yeah. They're staying on." "Thank goodness," she muttered, gazing across a pillow to those incredible eyes. He stared right back at her. "Make it a rule never to sleep naked on a first date," he whispered. Scully groaned and brought her hands out to cover her face, making him laugh even more. chapter 8. It was the smell of the sheets that woke her. That and the hair tickling her nose. The scent of someone else's hair. The feel of another's breath on her shoulder. A knee hooked over hers. All these things pulled her from sleep. Yanked her from sleep. Positively shocked her awake. Her eyes shot open like roller-blinds on a Roadrunner cartoon. Shit! What the hell?? Forcing her sleep-drugged eyes to focus, she peered at the hair by her face. Spiky brown hair. The whole thing rushed in and slapped her in the face. She was in bed with John Doggett. Inhaling his scent. Warmed by his breath. His skin on hers. Pulling in a shaky breath, she thanked God she wasn't a man. She'd have the biggest hard-on in the history of the world, the way she was feeling right now. And that'd take some explaining when a certain Special Agent woke up. She allowed herself a smug grin. This was nice. Lying all warm and toasty next to this man. Maybe she'd get through the week, after all. The knee moved, so she tucked the smile away. "Good morning," she said as the spiky head lifted. Out of screwed-up eyes, he regarded her blearily, and then, like a leaky pipe, realisation dripped through to his brain. Oh..." he said, pulling his head up to look properly at her. "Mornin'." The knee that had been resting on her leg slid off carefully. "Sorry," he said, looking sheepishly at her. She bit the inside of her cheek. "S'okay. No problem." He rubbed his face, pausing to glance at her shoulder. "And that's okay, too," she told him. Last thing she wanted was an `atmosphere' over this. "Uh-huh. Sure." He grinned lop-sidedly. "I was just checkin' to see if I drooled on ya." "Eeew!!" Scully grimaced and pulled her nightshirt away from her shoulder. "Gross!" It was dry. She scowled at him, as he laid his head on his own pillow, laughing. Unable to maintain her annoyance, she grinned too. "You wait. My turn, tomorrow." She could feel herself go all warm at that. Shit! Did she just say that? "Fair enough," he nodded, running his hands through his hair. Scully tried not to stare at the chest that appeared out of the blankets as he did that. God, she tried. But it was just too good... He was smooth and lightly tanned. espresso- coloured nipples and one or two... Yes! Little freckles! How cute was that? "I said... What d'you want for breakfast?" Oh, god! He'd spoken to her - and she hadn't heard! Oh Jesus! How embarrassing! Scully did a throat-clear before she could think straight. "Um... I think just..." WHAT!? What the hell did she like to eat for breakfast, besides smooth-chested FBI agents? Shit... "Um... Maybe toast, perhaps." "That a definite `yes?" he asked, smiling slightly. "You're not a morning-person, are you, Agent Scully?" The mention of her rank pulled her mind out of the gutter. "No. Yes, I mean sometimes. I just didn't sleep real well, last night," she lied. She'd actually slept incredibly well. His brow creased. "I'm sorry. Did I keep you awake?" Ah, bless. He was just so sweet. Worried he'd done something wrong. She felt guilty. "No, not really." She tried to reassure him. "Just first night in a strange bed. You know." He nodded. "Yeah. I hear ya." Yawning, he scratched his chin. "Okay. I'll get breakfast going." Flinging the covers back, he swung his long legs over the side of the bed and stood, giving Scully a glorious view of his boxer-clad ass. With his back to her, she felt free to gawk all she liked. Tight, firm and round.... He turned, making her jump, guiltily. "Just toast?" he asked. "Yes, thank you. That'll be great." She forced herself to keep her eyes on his face when he spoke to her. "Okay." Wandering over to his tee shirt, lying on the floor, he shrugged it back on and padded across the bedroom. "Won't be long." Then he was gone. And with a groan and a sigh, Scully threw her arms above her head and wished she'd gone ahead and had that orgasm last night. Because she could damn well do with one now. * The smell of toast and coffee dragged her up and into the lounge. It was either get up and see what she could do to help, or lie in bed and be sorely tempted to play with herself. And the way she was just lately, he'd probably walk in on her without her noticing. "Hi," she said, wandering into the kitchenette. He turned slightly. "Oh, hi. Thought you were going to lie in?" "Restless," she admitted, enjoying the sight of a man at the cooker, standing in just tee and boxers. Hell, it worked for her. "Okay." He pointed with a spatula. "You could set the table for me." "Sure." Wandering through the well-stocked cupboards, she hunted down three of everything and set the table. Doggett hummed to himself as he stirred what smelled like eggs and bacon. Scully smiled. Weren't they just the epitome of domesticity? She sat at the table, chin on her hands, watching him work. "What's the song?" she asked. "Huh?" He turned to glance. "Sorry. what d'you say?" "The song you're humming. What is it?" "Oh.." He laughed. "Just the theme from `Braveheart'." "You like that one?" He grinned over his shoulder. "Oh, yeah! Great film!" Holding the spatula up, he proclaimed loudly: "They'll never take our *freedom!*" Scully winced. "That was a terrible accent." He shrugged and stirred his eggs. "Yeah. I know. Sounds more Pakistani than Scottish." "Deaf Pakistani at that," Scully told him, shaking her head. "Gee, thanks." "No problem." She laughed as he stuck his tongue out at her. Domestic and fun. Wasn't such a bad assignment, after all. A movement caught her eye, and she turned to see Tor hovering in the doorway. "Good morning," she said. "Did you sleep well?" The girl nodded, not coming any closer. Doggett moved to the table to put plates down. "Hi," he said, glancing up. "I cooked you bacon, eggs and toast. I figured you can take what you want." He slid into one of the chairs and picked up the ketchup. Scully selected some toast and began to spread butter. What the hell. Her arteries could fur-up for one week. Eventually, she noticed the empty chair. She looked up. "Tor? Come and eat. It's going cold." Tor just stared at her from the edge of the door, her bottom lip held between her teeth. Scully looked across to Doggett and raised her eyebrows. He shoved a mouthful of food to one side, then swallowed. "Hey. Eat while it's hot. Cold eggs stink." He pointed a the untouched plate. Very slowly, Tor made her way into the kitchen area. She slid into the seat as if greased. Scully tried not to be too obvious in her scrutiny of the teen, but she couldn't help but note the way she picked at her food and kept glancing over at Doggett. He was totally oblivious to the attention, shovelling his eggs and bacon down his throat as if starved. Seemed he always ate at double time. Scully smiled round a bite of toast. "Hungry?" she asked as the final bit of bacon disappeared. He looked up at her, questioningly. "Huh?" "I asked if you were hungry." Pausing as he chewed, Scully watched him think about that for a second. He swallowed and shook his head. "I guess...." He said slowly. "Aren't you?" Scully shrugged. "Clearly not to the same extent." He looked down at his plate, then back up at her, a slightly chagrined look on his face. "Rushin' it, huh?" He sighed and grinned. "Always do. It's a bad habit." "Not good for you," Scully smiled. "Uh-huh. I know." He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through messy hair. "It's my only failing." Snorting, Scully took more toast. "Yeah. Right." He just grinned back at her. This was nice, she thought. This is what it must be like, being a family. She glanced at the silent Tor, and amended that. The girl was still darting glances across the table, perched on her seat like it was too hot. What was going through her mind, Scully wondered? As if suddenly afraid of malnutrition, Doggett's hand swooped across the table towards the toast rack. And with a clatter, Tor leaped back, knocking her chair over. "What the hell!" Doggett's mouth dropped. "Tor!" Scully put her mug down and stared. Tor looked back at the pair of them, one then the other and slowly her face pinked up. She stood, fork dangling from her hand, shuffling from one foot to the other. "Sorry," she muttered and reached behind her to retrieve her chair. "Sorry `bout that." Scully frowned and looked at Doggett. He widened his eyes and gave her a `who the hell knows?' look and took his toast back to his plate. The three of them sat in silence for a while, the chink of cutlery and the crunch of toast the only sound. Eventually, Doggett pushed his chair back and stood. Scully was intrigued to see Tor flinch. "I'm goin' to hit the shower," he said, bending fingers back to pop the knuckles. "Won't be long." He started to clear the table. "Leave it," Scully told him. "You cooked. I'll clean." He grinned. "You sure?" "Go." "You had a shower, last night," Tor said, staring at him, eyes wide. Doggett looked down. "You checkin' up on me?" he teased. Tor blushed. "No. I'm just sayin'. I mean - how dirty can you be, for God's sake?" He shrugged, grinning. "Hey! Don't hate me `cos I like to be clean." Scully watched with half and eye as he wandered back into the bathroom, the other staring at her video of Hot FBI Shower. The unedited version. The one with the loofah and the gel. Blinking rapidly to clear her head, she turned back to the table, noticing that Tor was watching him, too, a frown on her face. chapter 9. Sitting on the front steps, sipping her decadent third cup of coffee that morning, Scully squinted out into the sunshine. The weather had certainly not disappointed, it was warm enough to sit without her sweater. In fact, now she was full of lunch and warmed nicely, she was feeling rather sleepy and content. She smiled. Not such a bad way to earn a living, after all. Out on the front spread of grass, Tor was lying on a rug, reading a selection of TVGuides that she'd found in a cupboard. Some of them went back before she was born, so she was having a great time mocking the clothes. Every now and again, she'd snort some derogatory comment and shake her head. Scully supposed it was better than sulking or whining she was bored. Doggett had won the toss of a coin to go get more food and stuff from the supermarket down the road. Stay and baby-sit, go and shop. Strange that grocery shopping should be the more sought-after task. Sad, too, she thought, watching Tor flicking the pages. The child was such a contradiction. She had stunned the pair of them by holding a conversation in French over lunch. Or rather, she'd held it, they'd just stumbled through with half-remembered phrases from school, astonished that she was so fluent. To her shame, even Doggett had been better at it than she was. He must have paid more attention in school. And then the little madam had spoiled the moment by reciting a string of obscenities in French that made even her toes curl. Of course, she wouldn't have known what they meant, but for the gleeful English translation that followed each one. They ended up having another shouting match over that. Scully sighed. She was a strange one, alright. And still she moved around Doggett like he was some loosely-chained guard-dog. Strange indeed. Gazing into her mug, she didn't notice straight away that Tor had gotten up and was standing in front of her. She forced herself to smile when she caught her eye. "Hi." Typically, there was no reply, she just stood there, frowning. "What's up?" Working her lips like she was deciding on what to say to that, Tor sighed. "Will you tell him to just get it over with?" Scully looked at her. "Get what over with?" Tor's hand flapped. "You know... For what I did." Scully stared. She felt like she was coming late into a conversation and was playing catch-up. "I don't follow," she said. "What did you do?" She raised an eyebrow. "The bad language?" Tor shook her head, impatiently. "No, doofus - you know..." "Don't name-call, it's immature." Tor rolled her eyes. "You just don't give up, do you?" Scully smiled grimly. "No. Call it a character-trait." Tor curled her lip. "It's `cos you're ginger and short, isn't it?" "No. It's because you're rude and ill-mannered." They glared at one another. Scully knew damn well she could out-last any pouty teenager with a staring contest, she'd worked with Mulder. She knew sulking. She knew staring-out. Eventually, Tor sighed and let her eyes slip away, and Scully cheered inside. One-nil to me. But being older and slightly more mature, she restrained herself from pointing out her victory. "So." She put her mug down. "What did you mean by: `tell him to get on with it?" A booted foot scuffed the floor. "You know..." "No. Clearly I don't. You'll have to enlighten me..." She cocked an eyebrow and peered at the pouting face. "After all, I am incredibly old and slow." That got a small smile. "Yeah." "Okay, good. We agree on something. Now tell me - get on with what?" Shoving her hands deep into her pockets, Tor rolled her eyes. "The belting, of course." Scully frowned. "What?" Obviously deciding that Scully was the dumbest creature on the earth, Tor waved her hands between them. "Hello? I'm talkin' about The Good Hiding... The beatin'... The smackin' about. Capiche?" Stunned, Scully just sat and stared. Did she think Doggett was going to hit her? What the hell for? Mind you, that would certainly explain why she was skittering around him. "You think John... I mean, Mike, is going to hit you?" She widened her eyes. "What on earth makes you think that?" Tor squirmed. "You know..." Shaking her head, Scully took a deep breath. "Explain to me why you think he would want to do something like that to you." "Because I wacked him in the nuts." Tor stood, pushing a stone around with her toe. Scully sat in stunned silence, trying not to react. Trying not to be judgemental about the quality of this child's upbringing that she would assume she was going to get beaten for an accident. "Tor..." she began, wondering how to put this without criticizing her natural parents. "No-one's going to hurt you. Least of all John. I mean Mike... Oh, hell, you know who I mean." Tor looked doubtful. She spread out her hands. "Trust me. He's not that kind of man." "I hurt him real bad." "Makes no difference." Still dubious. "Honestly." "Yeah?" Scully nodded. Wandering back over to her rug, Tor glanced back, frowning. "Trust me," Scully repeated. She considered this, then nodded towards the house. "He threw me on the bed." Scully nodded. "He did. But did he hit you back when you were punching him?" She didn't reply, but the answer was in her statement. And so Scully went on with enjoying the sunshine, Tor went back to her magazines and nothing more was said, but once or twice. Scully caught the girl staring into space, a slight frown on her face. * "She thought you were going to hit her, you know." Scully put the last of the shopping away in the fridge and screwed up the carrier-bag. Doggett stared at her. "What?" "Tor." She glanced at the closed bedroom door. "She told me she was expecting you to strap her or something - for landing you one in the crotch." Doggett shook his head and popped the tab on a soda. "Jesus..." He took a long swallow. Sitting herself down, Scully poured her own drink into a mug. They sat in silence. Eventually, Doggett spoke, running his finger round the top of the can, without looking at her. "And you told her... what?" "That you'd probably take your belt to her after supper." His head shot round. "Take her out by the wood shed and beat the skin off her back." She pulled a face at him. "What d'you think I said? Idiot." Flicking his eyebrows up in apology, he shrugged slightly. "Sorry. I'm just..." He shook his head. "God." "I know." "What sort of a family life has she got?" "Who knows." "Think we should say something?" "To Tor?" "No. I dunno... Child Protection or something?" Scully was silent for a while. Unsure about her reply. Any sign of child abuse was supposed to be automatically reported to the authorities, but they had no proof that anyone had ever hit Tor in the past. And sometimes involving the authorities wasn't the best of ideas. "Well... Maybe we could talk to her about it. See if it's happened before." "She might lie." "There is always that." She sighed. "And it's not as if she hasn't got enough to worry about right now." "You got that right." They sat quietly again. And Scully's mind began to wander. Wandered right across the table into Doggett's clothes. Nice pale blue polo shirt, today, tucked down into another pair of jeans. She shook her head. Obsessed. She was downright obsessed. His can banged down on the table, making her jump. "I gotta go do something. All this sitting about is driving me nuts." She looked at him. Typical. Just when she thought she might get a nice afternoon sitting in his company. "What d'you suggest?" He grinned. "Fancy a walk, Mrs Hunt?" Scowling, Scully flicked a drop of soda at him. "Don't call me that." "You'd prefer K..." "Don't you dare!" "You two havin' a fight?" Tor stood in the doorway, arms folded. "No." Scully shook her head. "Just a difference of opinion." Doggett crumpled the can in his hand. "I was just askin' if your `mom' here, fancied goin' for a walk someplace. How `bout you?" Scully snorted, waiting for the stream of obscenities to flow. "Sure. Why not." Astounded, Scully turned to stare. "Anything's better than sittin' around in this fuckin' shit-hole." Standing to dump the can in the trash, Doggett strode quickly over to stand in front of Tor. "Okay. Here's how it's gonna go. Rule number one: You don't wander off. Always stay where we can see you. Rule number two:You're Tor. I'm Mike..." He waved at Scully. "And this is Kerry. Okay?" With a great show of rolling her eyes, Tor sighed. "Rule number three..." Bending slightly to look her directly in the eye, Doggett waited until she was looking at him before he carried on speaking. "Rule number three is: No more swearing." Tor scowled at him and opened her mouth to say something, but Doggett held up a hand. "No exceptions. No arguments. No more." Pouting at him, Tor stomped a foot. "Why not? Who says?" Still staring at her, Doggett pointed his finger in the middle of his chest. "I say. Me." "So? You're not..." He sighed. "Yes. I know I'm not. But I'm here, he's not." Tor rolled her eyes. "That's cause mom can't remember who he was. So lucky me, I get to have an Uncle Ray, Uncle Harvey, Uncle Brett and Uncle Goddammed Pete, instead!" Doggett paused a beat, digesting that information. Then he continued, without succumbing to sympathy or pity. "That's as may be. But whether or not your `uncles' or even your mother allows you to use such language, isn't the point." "Yeah, so what is the goddamned point?" "*I* don't like it." "Oh, and I suppose *you* don't ever swear?" Doggett nodded. "Of course I do. I'm no saint." "Just a hypocrite!" "Maybe. But hypocritical or not, I don't like hearing certain words coming out of the mouth of young people." He shrugged, standing straight. "Particularly young ladies." Scully watched a flash of something dash over Tor's face before she turned away and stomped into the lounge, muttering. Doggett rolled his eyes at her. "Think I won?" "We'll see," Scully laughed. "Come on. Let's go, before she changes our minds."