You're The Inspiration by Leyla Harrison Summary: Scully loves Mulder and Mulder loves Scully...or does he? Classification: VH, MSR (sorta) Spoilers: None Rating: PG Disclaimer: The characters I am writing about cannot possibly be mine. I'm suffering from transient global amnesia and don't even know who I belong to anymore. To the crew who has been keeping my inbox happily full -- Karen, Madeleine, Parrotfish, Miki and MustangSally -- you guys are the greatest. You're also the craziest bunch of women I've ever had the privilege of knowing. And I mean that as a compliment. All apologies to David Foster and Peter Cetera, who wrote *the* relationship song of the 80's that I'm about to shamelessly make fun of in the following story. ****** Mulder looked up and caught Scully's eye. Their gazes held and they stared at each other for a long, long time. "Mulder..." Scully said to him. "Yes?" he asked innocently. "What is it, Scully?" Scully hesitated before answering him. How was she supposed to explain? How was she supposed to tell him how she felt about him? It had taken her four long years to figure out exactly what Fox Mulder meant to her, but now that she knew, it was hard to deny her feelings. They were meant to be. Forever. Or until their contracts ran out. Whichever came first. Mulder looked her over. She sure looked good today. Well, she looked good every day. He wanted her so badly some days that he could hardly stand it. And she was giving him this look -- a look that said, I need you, Mulder. I need you. Hmm. Mulder pondered the idea for a moment. Scully watched him intently. What was he thinking? Could he tell that she wanted him? Scully was suddenly very nervous. "Glass of wine?" she asked, jumping to her feet from the couch. "Actually, Scully, I don't drink," Mulder answered, and Scully stood there in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, unsure as to how to take that. Was he making some kind of smart remark about Eddie? "I am kind of hungry," he murmured, licking his lips ever so slightly. Scully shuddered. Oh boy. There was no misinterpreting *that*. None at all. No way. Mulder got up and turned on the stereo. "What we need, Scully, is some music." He fiddled with the various knobs and buttons for a few moments. "What kind of music do you listen to, Scully?" The CD player whirred to life and the throbbing beat of a song pulsed through the speakers. Mulder looked at her quizzically. Scully covered her eyes with her hands, humiliated. Mulder lifted the jewel case of the CD. "Madonna?" he asked, stupefied. "You can turn that off anytime, Mulder," Scully moaned from behind her hands. Mulder switched CD's. "Oh, my..." Mulder whispered. "OK, Mulder," Scully said, uncovering her face. "I confess. I like Madonna. I like Chicago. I even like Mariah Carey and Celine Dion." "Don't you listen to any alternative music?" Mulder asked hopefully. Scully shook her head. "That Canadian singer? Sarah McLachlan?" Scully shook her head again. "No." "Well..." Mulder said. "Well, well, well." "You don't want me!" Scully burst out suddenly. "Scully, it doesn't matter to me what music you like. All that matters to me is that I need you in my life. No one needs you more than I do." Mulder hesitated, thought for a moment. Now *that* sounded familiar. He shook his head and went on. "All that matters to me is you, Scully. I've loved you since the beginning. Ever since we first met." "Really?" Scully asked, her incredibly brown eyes shining. Oops. Blue eyes. Blue. Azure blue. That's right, Mulder reminded himself. Her eyes aren't brown. Why did he think they were blue? Oh well. Who cared what color her eyes were anyhow? It seemed like she was suddenly taller than she normally was as she walked over to him. Normally she only seemed about his height when she was standing next to him. Once she started walking she tended to look a little shorter. Oh, who cared about her height anyhow? "Mulder, I love you too. I've always loved you." Mulder held her. He buried his face in her hair. It smelled like...what was that scent? What was it that bewitched him about the smell of her hair? "Scully...tell me something..." "Anything," she breathed into his eye. "Oops. Sorry. I was trying to breathe into your ear." Mulder shrugged. "That's OK." "What was it you wanted to know?" she asked him breathlessly. "What kind of shampoo do you use? Some kind of berry scent? It's always made me crazy for you." "That's a great Madonna song," Scully murmured into his ear this time. "Oh, and my shampoo? I only wash my hair about once a week. It's very fragile -- overly dry. I can't wash it any more than that or it would break off." Mulder sniffed her hair again carefully. "The shampoo I use is unscented, Mulder," Scully purred, sounding more like a whiny dog than a contented cat. "But it's *so* arousing to know that you notice..." Mulder nodded into her neck, trying to not breathe the suddenly oily scent he was picking up from Scully's hair. Scully pulled away from him and faced him. "Kiss me, Mulder," she murmured. Mulder hesitated. "Mulder?" she asked, confused. The CD player was still playing. Mulder suddenly had a flash of inspiration, as it were. He looked at Scully as if he were looking at her for the first time, which, technically, was impossible, but he managed to pull it off for the sake of fine fanfic writing. "Scully," he gasped out. "It's not you I've wanted all these years." Scully's face fell. Which also was not technically possible, but it works so well as a clich‚ that it had to be said. "Who is it?" she asked. "Tell me, Mulder. Tell me, who is the inspiration in your life?" Mulder smiled at her. "This is going to come as a shock to you, Scully." "Mulder," she pleaded. "Tell me." "It's me, Scully. It's *me*." Peter Cetera howled on the CD player at that exact moment, as to emphasize Mulder's point. "You're in love with...*yourself*?" Scully asked. Mulder nodded, his face happy like a little kid's on Christmas. Scully didn't know what to say. Neither did Mulder. Not at that moment, anyhow. After a moment, though, he recovered his train of thought. It was so perfect. Mulder was perfect for no one but himself. It made sense to both of them at the same time. Mulder smiled at Scully. "I'll always love you." "Whitney Houston," she murmured, and he nodded his head. They looked at each other, and their eyes held. "You like her too?" Scully asked, happily stunned. Mulder sheepishly nodded his head. "We *do* have something in common, then," Mulder happily decided. "We may not be meant for each other, but at least we'll always have each other -- and Whitney." Scully nodded, a grin spreading across her face. And they decided, after popping a Whitney Houston CD into the stereo, to order Chinese that night for dinner. END Stay tuned for the sequel: Mulder and Scully -- The Greatest Love of All (inspired by the music of Whitney Houston) "I'm drunk in my desire...but I love the way you smile at me, I love the way your hands reach out to hold me near..." --Sarah McLachlan