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Unlovely

by fran58

Subject: [glass_onion] New: (XF) Unlovely 1/1 Date: Tuesday, June 11, 2002 3:30 PM

Title: Unlovely (1/1)
Author: fran58
Email: fran58@fran58.net
http://www.fran58.net/authorspgs/fran58/fran58.htm or http://www.fran58.net/
Category: V
Rating: PG-13
Distribution: Wherever - just let me know. Spoilers: Slight for William, The Truth

Disclaimer: Characters owned by Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and 20th Century Fox. I own a black dog, 4 toads, 5 newts, fish, two rats and a lots of dust bunnies.

Summary: Mulder may not be in all his glory, but we all know that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Author's Note: Many thanks to addicted2fanfic and FabulousMonster for beta help.


Unlovely

Mulder is unlovely in the morning. There is no getting around it. Dark, scratchy stubble covers his face. His hair, which sticks out in more directions than a porcupine's quills, usually needs washing. A really good washing. Don't even get me started on his breath. His face is generally splotchy and the other day, he was loudly snoring with his mouth hanging open and I half expected those proverbial flies to discover his gaping orifice.

He looks damn good cleaned up in a suit, but the crack of dawn is not his time of day.

Yesterday I awoke to the sound of snuffling in my ear and tingling in my leg. Mulder, of course. He had buried his face in my neck and his lower body was draped across my right leg, cutting off blood circulation and making things generally uncomfortable. I poked him in the ribs a few times, trying to make him move. He made mumbling noises that sounded compliant, but he still wouldn't shift. It took me several minutes to extricate myself from his dead weight and sleepy embrace. I may have said some uncomplimentary things as I disengaged myself from him.

Still, he can be sweet in those early morning hours, in his Mulder sort of way. He nuzzles my neck and murmurs how the morning light makes my skin look translucent, like that of a fairy tale; I wish it were true and that I could return the compliment. He strokes my belly and whispers that maybe we will have another child, someday, when things are better. He presses himself to my back and trails his hand down my arm and tickles my ribs. His hand caresses my hip and hovers there momentarily. `I love this curve', he says.

Sometimes, I pretend to be asleep and lie still while he maps my body with his fingers, relishing the slip and slide of his skin against mine. Other times I turn to him - with his horrible hair and morning crumpled face and kiss him softly, bad breath be damned. Sometimes, this wins me a sleepy smile and the suggestion that we get breakfast. Other times his eyes grow dark and he brushes his stubbled face on my shoulder while sliding down my torso. He places a kiss on the slight mound of my stomach, or maybe each hip. He may not get that far, stopping at breast level instead. The hitch in my breathing is all the encouragement he needs. Soon, he covers my body with his in all his unlovely grandeur, eyes wide, body tense, ready.

I tangle my fingers in his spiky hair and rest my cheek against his crumpled face, arching my body towards him. He presses back and together we begin the ancient rhythm. I can feel him tremble and shake, and when he whispers he loves me, I know that he is beautiful.

end


thanks for reading :)


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