Title: Working It Out Author: Forbes <email@example.com> Pairing: D/Sc Disclaimer: Not mine. Rating: N17 for bad language and mild action. Author's notes: This is just a stand-alone bit of fluff that popped into my head while I was pounding away on a running machine, bored out of my mind. And before anyone asks, there isn't going to be a sequel. You'll have to use your own imagination for the rest. Thanks to Coolbyrne for the cracking beta - for tidying up a horrendously British piece of work, to get it paddling off Brighton beach to somewhere nearer mid-Atlantic! (By the way, as an experimant, I wrote a slash version of the same story for the Skinner/Doggett mailing group for anyone who's that way inclined. It will be interesting to see which story generates the most feedback!) Striding across the parking lot, Scully glanced at the gym bag gripped tightly in her hand and picked up her pace. The wind blew icy rain in her face, and water was beginning to seep down her collar. "Damn," she muttered as a car surfed past her, creating a wake of water that did nothing to prolong the life of her shoes. She shook the water off, cursing the weather, inconsiderate car drivers and work, in particular, Agent Doggett. She damned the way his face kept creeping into her mind, damned the way his scent lingered in the basement long after he left it, and damned the way her heart had started to beat in arrhythmia whenever he leaned close to her. Moving her gym bag to her other hand, she pulled the door open and sighed gratefully at the blast of warm air. Maybe good hard exercise would clear the image of blue eyes her mind. "Hi!" The plastic team player behind the desk smiled widely as Scully handed her the membership card. "You have a good work-out, Ms Scully." Nodding with a grim smile, she pushed her way past the turnstile and strode over towards the women's change rooms. A good work-out? She didn't know about that, but she was going to try and lose herself with exercise, anyway. She'd left her work piled up on her desk and cut out, unable to stand the ticking of the wall clock an instant longer. Doggett had left half an hour before, with a cheery smile, warning her not to stay too late, and his absence was somehow worse than him being there. In the silence she could practically hear that baritone rumble, smell the scent of aftershave and freshly-laundered shirts and feel the weight of an ice-blue gaze on the back of her neck. And it was driving her absolutely, completely nuts. * Digging through his bag, Doggett frowned and searched again. Where the hell were his shorts? He tipped the contents onto the bench. Towel, muscle shirt, change of clothes and deodorant. But no shorts. But, Godammit! He always put them in his bag as soon as he did the laundry. His mind flicked through his routine... Laundry room, washer, dryer, gym bag. Always the same... He frowned, thinking back. The phone had rung... he had answered it, and... Shit! Stuffing everything back in the bag with very bad grace, he cursed his sister's timing and his own absent-mindedness, the image of his running shorts lying on the top of the laundry basket, taunting him. Sitting down, he glanced at the bag accusingly, going over his options in his mind. He could do his set in his jockstrap... No. He winced. That was not an option. He could go home, forget about his workout and spend the rest of the evening and night trying not to beat off in utter frustration at the fact his partner had taken up residence in the front of his mind, in the pit of his stomach and the contents of his boxers. He lifted his hand and stared at the only other item of clothing his bag had contained. Option three - he could swallow his embarrassment and go and work out in the Lycra cycling shorts he held in front of his nose. Damn. * Running lightly up the stairs, Scully fiddled with her midi-player, untangling her headphones. The way she figured it, she could get a couple of hours working out, then pick up a take-out from that new vegetarian restaurant she'd been promising herself to try, then home for a movie and bed. Perfect. She slipped in to the spacious room, pleased at finding it quiet. This was why she picked this gym. Off the beaten track, she could guarantee she could work out in peace, without danger of bumping into anyone from the Bureau . The fact there was a gym at the Hoover made sure hardly anyone went the expense of joining another private gym, and that suited her down to the ground. Anonymity. It might be expensive, but it was well worth it. And the thought of running into Agent Doggett in the Bureau gym was too much for a body to bear. Hooking the player on her shorts, she made her way through the various machines to her favourite treadmill, the one at the back, facing the emergency exit. She worked out months ago that no-one tried to engage her in conversation if she wore headphones and choose the machine right at the back of the room. Not that she was totally anti-social, but she valued the time she had in here. Time she could lose herself, concentrate on exercise, and push all thoughts of John Doggett out of her mind. She pressed the buttons for her usual run-time and began to jog, shaking her arms to loosen up as she ran. Sighing contentedly, she flicked on her player, smiling as the rich tenor voice washed over her, drowning out the shitty techno-Muzak in the room. God, that was better. A nice long jog with Andrea Bocelli serenading her. His voice was a solid-gold guarantee that Doggett wouldn't intrude on her thoughts. She could happily drift away on a sea of Italian. She raised her arms above her head to loosen her shoulders, fixed her eyes on the fire alarm on the wall opposite and tuned the world, the weather and her partner out of her mind. * Stretching his legs, Doggett rolled his shoulders and punched the settings into his running machine. Time, weight... It might be considered vaguely ridiculous that he was hiding out in a gym to avoid his partner, but that was precisely what he was doing. Hiding. The only up-side to such subterfuge was that he had never been fitter, the frequency with which he was forced to push himself to mindless exhaustion had honed his body to a lean, chiselled condition it hadn't seen since his early Marine days. Level? Finger poised, he ignored his better judgement and stabbed the number 12, grimly clinging to the idea that if he was running hard enough, his thoughts would be concentrated on breathing and not falling over and most definitely not on his partner. He pulled at the bottom of his shirt, wishing it was a couple of inches longer. Those damned shorts didn't have half as much coverage as he had hoped. Or remembered. In fact, he didn't know what the hell he'd been thinking, buying a pair this tight. He ran a palm over his left buttock, feeling very vulnerable. A lot of gay guys frequented this gym, a fact that hadn't escaped his notice when checking out places to join. If it wasn't for the fact it was as better-equipped than some of the trendier gyms, he'd have not bothered. Smiling to himself at the thought of `well-equipped', he self-consciously touched his rear-end again and pressed enter to start the machine. It began to glide, forcing him to start moving. Walking briskly, he pouted out his lower lip and began to run as the pace increased towards his punishing setting. Yeah... This was good. His feet pounded, arms pumped as he settled into a steady rhythm, his breathing deep and open-mouthed. One foot in front of the other... Stare at the minutes ticking by...He would run until his breath came via shards of glass and his muscles screamed in torment. Then he would move on to weight machines, where he would lift and push the heavy bars hard enough to mix sweat with tears. And later, he would punish the one muscle he couldn't deal with in the gym. Punish it under a torrent of cold water until it promised to behave. That was the plan. That was his routine. * Breathing deeply, Scully stretched, easing the muscles that were thrumming gently after her run. Pulling her arms behind her back, she exhaled, eyes closed. She had almost done it. Very nearly done her half-hour run without letting Doggett sidle into her mind. Admittedly, it'd only been a passing thought, but it was enough to put her off her stride and made the last ten minutes seem like twenty. She pushed her leg out behind her and stretched the calf muscle. It had been in that song where Bocelli held that high note, so strong and pure, it made the hairs on her neck shiver. It was then she had wondered if Doggett could be classed as a tenor, what with his speaking voice being so deep. That stray thought introduced her to the possibility that he might possibly be a good singer, and if so, could he make the hairs on her neck stand up? And of course, that led to her thinking about all sorts of other ways he could make her hair stand on end. Bingo. End of concentration and the last ten minutes of her run was spent in frustrated clock-watching. Damn the man. If he had ever shown her the slightest indication that he was interested in her `that' way, then she would be seriously tempted to make a move on him. But until that happened, if at all, she'd just have to make do with punishing exercise or her trusty vibrator. Rolling her neck from side to side, she glared at the racks of weight- lifting machinery arranged at the rear of the room. Yes. In the absence of anything battery-driven, hard exercise would have to do. A long, hard session taking her body to the limits. She smiled. And them maybe she could indulge in a tub of Chunky Monkey and a quick spot of self-abuse without that annoying twinge of guilt. Decision made, she marched over to the abs bench. * Bent over, dragging deep breaths into unco-operative lungs, Doggett tried not to let his sweaty hands slip off his knees. He was sure he'd fall flat on his face if they did. He gasped and heaved while droplets of sweat threw themselves off the end of his nose to splash between his feet. Damn... he was going to give himself a coronary this way. He straightened slowly, easing himself upright, the cotton shirt sticking to his back, irritating him. Pausing on her way to another machine, a pretty blonde woman smiled at him. "Tough run, huh?" Doggett nodded and wiped his face with his hand. He smiled back, still trying to breathe without retching. "Yeah. I figured by next month I'll either be in shape or in the ground," he gasped. Green eyes flickered over his body. "Looks to me like you're pretty much in shape already." Doggett tried not to let his surprise show. "Uh-huh?" He shrugged, adding: "Thanks," as an afterthought. Was she making a move on him? The woman shrugged back, her eyes still unashamedly tracking over his chest. "This your usual place?" she asked, her gaze wandering lower. Battling the urge to tug the hem of his shirt over his spandexed crotch, Doggett shuffled his feet. "Yeah. It's quiet. I like it like that." "Me too." Here eyes flicked up and her mouth twitched provocatively. The message might be a little late, but it was definitely getting through to him. He could easily strike up a conversation with this woman, they would flirt, he would charm and before you knew it, he'd be getting her number. Her eyes were telling him that was the way it would go. All he had to do was talk to her. Doggett swallowed and kept his mouth shut. The green-eyed woman stared a moment longer, then shrugged. "Well... See you around, then." "Yeah." Turning, she started to move towards the other running machine. Doggett watched her, allowing his eyes to check out the shape she made in her tight lycra outfit. The woman flicked a glance over her shoulder at him in that universal `I'm interested' kind of way. She flashed perfect teeth at him, and he smiled back, wondering why the hell he wasn't trotting after her to ask her to join him for a drink after their workout. As she disappeared behind a row of ski-ing machines Doggett ran a hand over the back of his neck, smearing the moisture around, shaking his head at himself. What was the matter with him? He must be absolutely fucking nuts, ignoring the signals that woman was giving him. The phrase `on a plate' rattled in his head. Nuts. He was going nuts. And Dana Scully was the cause. He sighed and rolled his neck, relishing the scrunch of vertebrae, and from the corner of his eye he caught a flash of red hair. Oh, Jesus, he thought, raising his eyes to the ceiling. For Christsake! He couldn't even go to the store without thinking he saw her. Couldn't fill his truck with gas without imagining the attendant was her. It was getting ridiculous. There was probably a medical term for seeing your partner in the playground of a high school, on the downtown bus line and three gardens down in his damn street. Yeah, John, he mused, it's called an obsession. And it's fucking ridiculous, if not downright pathetic. He bent to rest his hands on his knees again, stretching his legs. Pathetic. * Bending in the middle to bring your knees to your elbows wasn't the greatest of ways to spend a Friday night, Scully thought. And definitely not the easiest of things to do. She flopped back, belly trembling and wiped her eyes. Jesus... The things she did for sanity and vanity. Staring at the ceiling, she counted the holes in the tiles, getting her breathing back to normal. She had decided to punish herself by putting an extra 10lbs on the resistance end of the bench, and was regretting it intensely. Served her right for letting Doggett into her head again she told Andrea as he sang about stealing imaginary kisses. Yeah, that's what Doggett was. A thief. Stealing into my head and taking my peace of mind. She screwed her eyes up and began another set of crunches, angry that yet again, he'd managed to creep into her head. Damn! She pulled herself up and started to count. 12... 13... 14... She had to literally force herself to get to the 15th scrunch before collapsing down. On the inside of her eyelids, the face of John Doggett smiled his lop- sided grin at her efforts. Damn him! He just wouldn't go away. She peeled her damp tee-shirt away from the vinyl bench and dragged herself into an upright position. Much more of this and her belly wouldn't speak to her for a week. She rubbed below her ribcage, wincing. "Going for the burn?" She looked up, pulling her earpieces out. "Excuse me?" A man with very buff muscles and a shaved head winked at her. "I see you've got a fair weight going on." He nodded at the amount of resistance she'd piled on. "Oh." She rubbed her stomach. "Yes. I was going to see if I could beat my best." "Cool." Scully took a moment to study the man in front of her. He was in fine shape, tracksuit pants and tight tee-shirt, a nice tan and good teeth. She bit back a smile. She sounded more like a vet than a woman. Teeth, indeed. "You here alone?" "Beg your pardon?" She hadn't been listening. His pecs really were quite outstanding. "You by yourself?" "Er... Yes... I mean no." She wasn't in the mood for this, however nice his teeth were. The man laughed gently. "So which is it? Yes, or no?" Carefully untangling her wires, Scully did a quick assessment in her head. She could start a conversation with this man, get to know him, maybe go for a drink... then who knows? But was that what she wanted? It wasn't as if her social life as crammed right now, and she was about as screamingly single as a girl could get, and yet... Attractive as he was, she wasn't attracted enough. He didn't have blue eyes. And he didn't have nearly enough hair. He looked more like AD Skinner. He wasn't nearly enough... He just wasn't... "I'm sorry. I'm..." She shrugged. "Not interested?" She smiled. "Not available." "Oh." He shrugged too. "Can't blame a man for trying," he said. She smiled widely. "Thank you." "For?" "Trying." "No problem." As he walked away, Scully watched the tight bottom moving in the trousers, appreciating his efforts and his gluteus maximus. There must be something terribly wrong with her to have turned away something like that. She shook her head, plugging her ears back in. Something very wrong indeed. * Bending over the drinking fountain, Doggett indulged himself watching the blonde woman on the ski-ing machine. There was an elegance in the way she swung her hips that was hypnotic and compulsively appealing. He usually went for blondes. Young, slim blondes. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. That was definitely his `type'- or at least it had been until... Christ! He was obsessed. If he could just get that damned woman out of his head for five minutes, he'd feel a whole lot better. Running his hand through his wet hair, he admired the view again. More to the point, maybe he'd stand a chance at getting laid. He should take a holiday. Get away somewhere. Hell, he was owed a hideous amount of holiday time. Skinner had all but begged him to take some time before the next financial year came up. Maybe if he went somewhere hot, he could sort his head out. Get the spectre of red hair and blue eyes out of his head. Yeah... that's be good. Sun, sand and sex. Wiping his damp hand on his shirt, Doggett grinned as he moved towards the drinking fountain. His cousin ran a travel agency. He could call Ray and get a holiday the same day. At a discount, too, no doubt. He bent to drink. The water ran cool and refreshing into his mouth. Just two mouthfuls, he didn't want to get cramps. Rising, he wiped the moisture from his mouth and froze, hand halfway across his face. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. It couldn't be... God wasn't *that* cruel, surely? Narrowing his eyes as his hand slowly dropped to his side, Doggett stared across the gym at the blaze of red that had grabbed his attention. The flare of colour was sitting at one of the hip abductor machines facing the wall. Yes. God *was* that cruel. Dana Scully was in his gym. He groaned, pulling a face. What now? There was no way she could see him. Could she? Had she already seen him? He frowned. Maybe... It was possible. But then she hadn't come up to him to speak, so did that mean she was ignoring him? Christ... this was too hard. Doggett grimaced and wiped a trickle of sweat from the side of his head. Should he go up to her and say hello? It would be the polite thing to do. If she had seen him and was waiting for him to make the first move, then it'd be rude to leave without acknowledging her. But did he really want to invade her privacy? More to the point, did he want her to invade his? He snorted gently. Like that was gonna make a difference! She couldn't have invaded him any more if she'd greased her hand and shoved it up his ass clean up to her elbow. He watched her forcing the padded bars together with her knees, open...shut...open... He looked away. Uh-uh. Was no way he could watch *that*. There was a good reason why the gym staff stuck that machine facing the wall. His eyes snuck back up for another traitorous look. Open... Shut...Open... Groaning, he shoved his hand in front of his eyes. Goddamit! If he was going to speak to her, he'd have to wait until she'd got off that machine. There was no way he could hold a conversation with her legs doing that. With grim determination, he sat down at the chest press. A quick set of reps on this would give Scully time to finish, and him time to get his thoughts back on something like a decent track. Although with her in that tee-shirt and shorts thing, doing that was going to be more than a little difficult. Maybe it'd be best to just sneak out the back and have done with it. What the hell was she doing in *his* gym, anyhow? * Getting up very carefully, Scully stretched her thighs. Oh sweet Jesus! That was a killer. Whoever thought up that particular machine was a total sadist. She walked gingerly towards the drinking fountain, trying not to clutch at herself. God only knows when she'd feel the need crack walnuts with her inner thighs, but any more reps on that thing and she'd be able to do it, no problem. Mind you, the thought of using her inner thighs to... Swallowing a groan, she rubbed her eyes. This `distraction-with- exercise' thing wasn't working one little bit. Even with her body in pain, her mind wandered over to the Doggett-drawer in her sub- conscious and yanked it wide open. The filing-cabinet of filth she had stored away was both mortifying and exhilarating. On one hand it proved she was a normal, healthy female with an active sexual imagination, but on the other, the voracity and depth of said imagination shocked her. When had the cut of Doggett's shirt become of paramount importance to her day? How did the way his trousers pulled over his rear become the highlight of the working week? And how could she *allow* herself to sink to the depths of dropping stuff on the floor, just because she knew his chivalrous nature insisted he'd pick it up? That was happening more and more often, these days. It was definite. She was disgusting. Agent Doggett was working with a pervert. She shook her head. Maybe therapy would help her work through this problem. Get some professional help before he suspected something and made a complaint that his partner was sexually harassing him. She felt the heat rise in her face at the thought of Skinner having to have a word with her about her conduct. She bent to the fountain to sip. Running her hand under the trickle of water, she smoothed it on her hot face. That was better. Looking idly round the room, she tucked her hair back behind her ear. She really ought to get some more hair... Shit! Oh, shitshitshit! No... It couldn't be... Scully's hand froze over her ear. No way! What the hell was *he* doing in here?! Sitting not ten feet away, Doggett pushed the chest-press forward with focussed concentration, his eyes screwed up tight, his mouth in a grim line. He couldn't be here! She shook her head, blinking hard to clear the picture in front of her. Nope, it was still Doggett. While she was stunned, Scully's eyes took the opportunity to roam all over the man in front of her. They feasted on the straining vest, noted the gleam of sweat on his arms and relished the bulging muscles. Blinking to clear her head, she panicked, and stepped back out of sight. He hadn't seen her, had he? She could sneak out and not have to face him in this state. She frowned. If he had spotted her, then it would be horrible to ignore him - the height of bad manners. She peeked around the corner. He was sitting forward, elbows resting on his knees, his back heaving slowly as he got his breath back. And a very nice back it was. Too, her mind whispered. Broad and strong. Good muscle definition... Scully snapped her head back. This was not good. She couldn't do this. Couldn't hold a sensible conversation with him dressed like that... Hell, with *her* dressed like this. She glanced down at her clothes. At least she hadn't gone with the crop-top today. Small mercies. Maybe she should just carry on with her work-out, pretending she hadn't seen him. That might work. Put the ball in his court, let him decide whether or not to talk. Yeah. She slipped around the other side of the pillar and made her way over to the free weights. Screw it. She'd already done a set of these, but it was the only unoccupied area where she could lie down on, out of sight. Wriggling to get comfortable, she pulled a face and tried not to think about the word `equipment'. * Three sets of twenty presses was quite enough. Doggett sat back and blew out a breath. Not bad. He flexed his arm experimentally. He was getting some serious muscle definition thanks to all this hard work. Yeah... Thanks to his repeated hiding-out sessions, more like. He glanced up. Not that hiding was going to be much of an option from now on. Not with *her* here. Stretching, he stood looking left and right, curious as to where Scully had disappeared to. Had she seen him and decided to leave? He frowned. That was an unsettling thought. He'd begun to hope that their working relationship had reached a point where they were comfortable in each other's company. Well, at least that she might be comfortable - he still got a regular woody whenever she brushed against him. A sudden thought sliced cold and sharp into his belly. Had she noticed that? Noticed him looking at her in the office? Had the fact that he couldn't go five minutes without glancing across at her driven her nuts? He'd been careful ... He was sure he had. He was painfully aware that he was walking a knife-edge at work - trying to balance normal behaviour with this burning, aching obsession. Maybe he'd not been as careful as he thought. One too many glances at her legs... A gaze held too long across a meeting room? Or even caught a glimpse of a mortifying tent in his pants? Shit. Turning, he scoured the gym floor for a flash of red. He should go up and speak to her. Act naturally. After all, even if she wasn't spending great chunks of time in his head, he'd surely speak to her if he ran into her someplace. Yeah...Okay, John Jay. Just act natural. He cleared his throat and wandered between the machinery, flexing and stretching his arms, trying to look casual despite the sick churning in his guts, accompanying the now familiar flutter of excitement. * There were seventy four holes in that ceiling tile. Scully admitted it was more than a little sad to have lain there and counted just because she didn't want to stand up and adjust the weight and risk catching Doggett's eye. She sighed. She was acting like some crush-ridden teenager, not a mid- thirties professional woman. Get a damned grip, Dana. Grow up. She closed her eyes to keep from being tempted to check if all the tiles had the same number of holes. "I said: `Hi there'." Scully jumped like a circus flea, arms jerking out, her eyes snapping open. John Doggett stood above her, his upside-down head staring down at her. She stared at him. "Oh..." Words trickled out on to the floor in the face of his sweat-darkened shirt. She slowly pulled the earpieces from her ears. Shit... How long had he been standing there? Had he been watching her laid out, not doing anything? Scratching the back of his suddenly hot neck, Doggett gave a little smile. "I, um... saw you over there...." He pointed vaguely to the left, not wanting to indicate the leg-spreading machine in case he blushed. Scully continued to stare up, her eyes rivetted. The bottom of his shirt rode up a touch when he lifted his hand, exposing a tiny strip of stomach. Hairless, shining stomach. The gym was suddenly very warm. "Yes?" she whispered. "Uh-huh." The hand came back down, hiding the belly away. "So I thought... y'know, I'd say `hi'." He grinned. "But you were in a world of your own." "Yes," Scully said again, part of her wishing he'd point at something else and show her that intriguing flash of skin again. She stared up and Doggett stared down, neither speaking. Scully blinked, breaking the stalemate. Jumping Jesus! What the hell was she doing? She tucked the earphones away in her shorts pocket and tried to sit up, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. She grasped the edge of the vinyl bench and pulled, but the strain of having done two rounds of scrunches earlier had turned her stomach- muscles to two-day-old lettuce. She grunted, flopping back. "Here..." A large hand appeared in front of her nose. "I can manage," she said, not wanting to appear a wuss in front of him. She struggled to get upright again. "Yeah, I can see that." The hand stayed where it was. Begrudgingly, Scully took hold of the proffered hand. She knew the only way she was going to get up off this thing was with help. There was always the roll-off-onto-the-floor manoeuvre, but she didn't think her dignity could stand him seeing her flop in a heap at his feet. "Thank you," she muttered, closing her fingers over his hand. His hot, strong.... She swallowed and allowed him to pull her upright. Doggett was inordinately pleased to see his hand didn't shake as her small one fitted snugly into it. God... She felt so tiny. He pulled, aware that he could probably throw her halfway across the gym if he wanted. Why was it she made him feel such a caveman? He'd be beating his chest and grunting next. "Okay?" he said as she swivelled to sit up. He tried not to shuffle his feet like an awkward kid. "Yes. Thank you." Scully licked her lips, her face flushed. Sitting at mid-chest to him she was acutely aware of his proximity, of their state of dress and the fact that her mind was desperately trying to imagine what he looked like underneath his clothes. She wondered if her what she was thinking was written on her face? She hoped not. "I'm okay now," she lied, still not letting go of his hand. Doggett nodded, hypnotised by the stray strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail and hung by the side of her face. He was only dimly aware that he was still holding her hand. The clank and squeak, grunt and groan of the gym faded into white noise as they stared at one another. Scully was entranced by a tiny doplet of sweat that was meandering down the side of Doggett's neck, trailing carelessly towards the hollow at the base of his throat. She wanted to reach out and touch her finger to it, to gather it up and taste it. She also wondered if she would exceed her daily salt intake if she swept her tongue across the glistening skin of his neck. "You sure?" Doggett asked, his voice scratchy and low. He wanted to clear his throat, but couldn't spare the breath. Scully nodded, eyes locked at the base of his throat. The drop had nestled there, melting into the hollow. Her gaze slid sensuously down his upper chest as easily as oil on silk. Slithered to where the top of his shirt lay darkened with perspiration, the tight material emphasising the curve of his chest, the damp spreading towards a dark area under each arm. Her mouth went dry. Oh shit, she was in trouble. What was wrong, Doggett wondered? He knew perfectly well why he was standing like a stunned wildebeest, but Scully was sitting there as if he'd shot her full of anaesthetic. He stared down at her face, wondering if she was going to be sick, or faint. Or maybe punch him in the balls for holding on to her hand so long. He dipped down to look in her eyes. She wasn't looking at him, or rather, she wasn't looking at his face, she was staring straight ahead at his chest. He frowned and looked down at himself. What? He was sure his shirt was clean. Okay he was all sweaty, but they were in a gym. For God's sake. He was *supposed* to be all sweaty. "You sure you're okay?" he asked again, hoping she wasn't going to puke. Slowly, he watched her lift her eyes to his face. She was flushed, her cheeks full of colour, eyes bright, breathing slightly ragged. The sight look the last of Doggett's unsteady breath. There was an expression in her eyes that he hadn't seen before. He ran through his catalogue of `women's looks', but couldn't find one he recognised in what he saw in Scully's face. "I'm...." Scully was going to say `fine', but with a moment of almost painful clarity, she realised she wasn't, she hadn't been for some time, and wasn't going to be in the near future until she faced up to this, one way or another. "Agent Scully?" Squeezing his hand slightly, Scully smiled. "Dana," she told him. "I think you should call me Dana outside of work, don't you?" Doggett felt his jaw drop slightly. He glanced at their hands. She'd squeezed his hand. She was still holding his hand. And asking him to call her by her first name. Could this get any weirder? He narrowed his eyes, was this way of letting him know he was going to get his shoes covered in vomit? "I'm..." Scully took a deep breath. She could handle this. No... Don't think about `handling' anything just yet. She told herself that she could have a normal conversation with this man. She might want to slam him up against the wall and rip his clothes off, but for the moment, talking to him without stuttering would be good progress. "...I'm pleased you came over to say hello." "You are?" Doggett shook his head at his inane reply. "I mean... Okay, yeah. Thanks." He pulled his eyes off their hands and back to her face as she stood up. That slightly odd look was still there. "And I guess it's `John', to you, too." Scully's smile lit up her face. "John," she nodded. "Okay. Deal." Doggett felt his hand being shaken in a business-like fashion. He laughed, looking down at it. She had nice nails. Clean and short. Call him strange, but he hated long, fussy nails on women. "How long have you been comin' here?" he asked, immediately missing her touch as her hand fell to her side. She shrugged. "About 6 months. On and off. Whenever I get the chance." Doggett smiled. "I know what you mean. I never seem to get my money's worth outta my membership." Watching her still smiling at him, he decided he liked it, but it also made him a little nervous. Like she knew something he didn't. He went to put his hands in his pockets, realised he didn't have any, and clumsily turned the movement into a head-scratch and wave at the bench. "You were gonna use this?" Scully glanced behind. What was she going to say to that? Tell him that she was just using it to hide? She looked up. Uh-uh. No way. "I was. But I'm not sure about technique," she said, mentally crossing her fingers against the lie and opened her mouth to add that she was just about done, anyway, but he spoke up. "Well, I could show you...If you like." Moving around her, he looked down at the bench and then back up at her, an endearingly hopeful expression on his face. "Nothing worse than wantin' to have a go on somethin' but not knowin' what to do..." He was speaking all in a rush, like he was nervous. She decided she liked that, it made her feel a little less as if she was going to make a fool of herself. She smiled and nodded. "Sure. I'd like that." "Okay, then." Nodding, Doggett grinned. He hadn't expected her to take him up on the offer, but was inordinately pleased that she had. The caveman in him silently beat his chest in exaltation. He wasn't so far up the evolutionary ladder as to turn down a chance to show off. "What you need to do first is check the weight..." Ducking down he bent over the bar to look at the black discs on the end. "Make sure you're not gonna bust a gut tryin' to lift too much." Scully swallowed hard. Black lycra. Oh shit.... Oh God... He was wearing black lycra. How could she have missed that? The shorts pulled tight over his ass as he bent down, his vest riding up a touch over the waist. Her eyes tracked eagerly over the two mounds of his rear-end, taking in every nuance of muscle that twitched, the line of the seam and the way the legs clung to his thighs. He started to straighten up. "So... Exactly what weight is that?" she asked innocently, her insides cheering as he ducked down to look again. Holy Mother, but that was a *good* position to see him in... "`Bout 30 pounds, I reckon." He stood up, scratching the back of his neck. That was probably a shade too much for a woman, apart from thinking she was in pretty good shape, he didn't know what she was capable of. "You wanna try that?" He looked at the bench, unable to look her in the eye, the thought of her lying down in front of him tormenting his imagination. All of a sudden, he was regretting offering to do this. How was he going to keep his eyes off her chest? Scully pursed her lips, her mind rushing all over the place in its haste to point out that it would much rather see *him* lying down on that bench. "Can you show me?" She smiled, hoping it'd come out innocently. "I'm not sure where my hands are supposed to go." Stifling a laugh at the look on his face, she tucked her hair behind an ear, biting her lip. "Um... Sure." He cleared his throat. Was she joking? It wasn't difficult. Just grab the bar and hold on. "Yeah?" he asked again. Scully was nodding, tucking that stray hair away. "Well, okay..." He stepped to stand astride the bench, wondering if he was making a fool of himself. Still, it was too late to worry about that now. "Just settle yourself comfortably..." he said, lying down, ducking his head under the bar. His wriggled his feet either side of the bench, getting them at 90 degrees. "Place your hands at shoulder-width..." He wiped his hands on his shirt and grabbed the bar purposefully. "Make sure you got dry hands, or you'll be slipping all over the place." "Oh right, make sure you get a good grip." Doggett looked sideways at her. Was that a grin in her voice, or was he just being over-sensitive? Scully put her hand over her mouth to smother her grin. The look on his face was priceless. She was well aware that she was treading a thin line, with the double-meanings, but she just couldn't help herself. Maybe it was the fact she was out of hours and off work territory; maybe it was because she felt out of control and reckless... Or maybe it was simply because Agent Doggett was lying prone in front of her in tight lycra. Whatever. It was too much to expect her to behave. "Yeah... Dry hands," he repeated, looking at them on the bar, curling and tightening his grip. Nah. She wasn't teasing, he was just being over-sensitive. Seeing your partner in gym shorts and tee shirt would do that to you. He focussed on the ceiling. "You take a deep breath, and let it out, pushing the bar upwards as you go." He demonstrated, lifting the bar, blowing out harder than the weight decreed to show her what to do. This much weight was a walk in the park. Hardly felt it at all. Part of him wished he could have piled on the discs to really show off. Mind you, the way his nerves were jangling, he'd probably drop the thing and crush his throat. He lowered the bar. "Breathe in as it comes down... Then out again as you lift." Scully watched in silence. The weight was obviously ridiculously easy for him, but nevertheless, his muscles jumped and bulged as if to tease her. She watched, barely registering his words as his skin gleamed in the strip-lighting, tiny droplets of moisture caught in the hollow of his throat and the pale hairs on his chest. She rammed her hands behind her back and held her fingers tight, for fear of not being able to resist reaching out and squeezing a bicep... Or one of those bouncing pectorals. She swallowed again. "Y'see?" he said, turning to look as he rested the bar on the stand. There was no reply. He tried again. "You see? It's easy." Scully stood in silence, hands behind her back. Doggett frowned. Why wasn't she paying attention? Jeez... Was he *that* uninteresting, his male pride whined. "Dana?" He watched her jump, her eyes flicking from down by his chest up to his face. "You okay?" "Huh?" Doggett's frown deepened. He'd never heard her use that expression before. And she had that vacant look on her face again. It niggled him that he knew he'd seen it someplace else, but couldn't quite put his finger on where. "You got that?" She nodded, colour flooding into her face as he looked at her. *That* was something he didn't think he'd ever seen on his partner. Scully nodded, acutely aware that her guilt at ogling him had caused a flood of colour to rush to her face and a rush in her underwear. She swallowed, fervently grateful that only one of the two floods was visible. "I think I can handle that," she muttered, feeling herself flush more at her words. `Handle that'... was she nuts?! She let go of the death-grip on her fingers and waved a hand. "Yes... Thanks. I see now." Dragging a smile out onto her face, Scully fixed her eyes on his face, promising herself that she would look nowhere but into those blue depths. Within seconds and without her permission, her traitorous eyes crawled off his face and began a lascivious tour of his body, slithering down his chest, over his flat belly and down to the Lycra. Oh shit... Lycra. With him lying flat on his back and holding the bar, his shirt had ridden up, revealing the Lycra in all its glory. And what was in there. Her eyes widened. Never in a million years would she have thought of Doggett as a Lycra man. She'd have guessed him to be the heavy-cotton, boxing-type shorts, something butch and sturdy. A bit like the man himself. But here it was - a tightly-wrapped, skin-tight, nicely defined package of Doggett. She wanted to look away, she knew she ought to, and she really wanted to. But her eyes absolutely refused to move. Nailed to the front of his groin. Doggett watched the progress of Scully's eyes as they tracked their way from his face. Stared as her gaze wandered slowly down his body to settle in the region of his... Jesus Christ! His own eyes widening in shock, he let go of the bar and sat up quickly. Too quickly. With a dull clank, his forehead connected with the steel bar, sending him back the way he came, landing on the bench with a thump. "Aw.... Shit..." he groaned, reaching up to rub between his eyes. "Goddammit..." Way to go, John. Dignified as ever. Was he ever gonna get a break in front of this woman? He massaged his face with gentle fingers. "John. Are you okay?" Above him, Scully peered in concern. At least her eyes were on his face, he thought. "Yeah, I'm just peachy," he muttered, wondering if he was sporting a pattern from the bar between his eyes. "Let me see..." Sitting up more carefully this time, Doggett ducked under the bar and thought she'd probably seen quite enough of him for one day. He flinched back as she reached for him. "Nah, s'okay." "John..." She used her `I-take-no-shit' voice. "I'm fine," he growled. Two could play at that game. Scully straightened up, her hands on her hips. She glared down at Doggett, who just glared right back up at her. Damn... He was one stubborn man. "You're going to have a bruise there, tomorrow," she told him, keeping her hands to herself through force of will. She wanted to kiss it better more than anything. He pulled a face. "Yeah?" She nodded. "Let me put some ice on it." Grunting, he poked at his forehead. "No." "Yes..." She reached out and took his hand. "Don't do that. You'll make it worse." "Will not." She smiled. He sounded like a petulant little boy. She pulled his hand towards her. "Come on. There's ice in the relaxation suite." With token resistance, he gracelessly allowed her to pull him up. "I'm fine, really," he protested. "I'm sure you are," Scully agreed, weaving them through the machines towards the stairs. "But indulge me." Doggett opened his mouth to make a comment about her indulging herself while he was lying down had caused this, but snapped his mouth shut instead. The last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to his shorts again. He felt himself go warm at the memory of where her eyes had been. With his free hand, he tugged the hem of his shirt while she pulled him down the stairs like a kid. Never again. He was *never* going to put these things on again. "Here we go..." Pushing the door open, Scully herded Doggett in before her. "Go sit over there." She indicated the tiled bench by the sauna and moved to stand by the ice machine. It was spitting out chips into a large steel bowl, intent on burying a sports-drink bottle. Gathering up a large handful she made a snowball. Pity she hadn't got a cloth to wrap it in. Putting ice straight on bare skin was never a good idea. She looked around. Nothing. Glancing down, she briefly contemplated utilising her teeshirt, but there was no way she could stand in front of Doggett in just a sports bra. Mind you... Tramping down a squirm of delight at her boldness, she tilted her chin at him. "Take off your shirt." "What?" "Give it to me." She stood in front of him, holding out a hand, trying not to look too eager. Doggett stared up at her, mouth slightly agape. She couldn't be serious? "What for?" "I need it to wrap the ice." "Why?" "So you don't get freezer-burn." He frowned. Pork chops that were in the freezer too long got that. Not people. "But..." Scully was clicking her fingers at him. "Come on, it isn't exactly comfortable holding this, you know." Water dripped, pooling between their feet. Sighing, he took the hem of his shirt in his hands. Surely he didn't need all this fuss? She was over-reacting. "I really am fine, you know," he said, procrastinating. "Yes... Yes, you are. Now give." Doggett rolled his eyes and pulled up the shirt, giving Scully a sharp pang right in the centre of her groin as his body slowly peeled out from under the grey material. Flat stomach gave way to a nicely shaped chest with just a hint of fine hair. She stared as his biceps flexed, pulling the shirt all the way off. God... his shoulders were wide. And those arms.... She pulled in a sharp breath. Get a grip, Dana. He handed her the shirt, scowling. "Here." "Thank you." Her hand took the proffered clothing on autopilot. Her eyes were still busy taking in his naked torso. Had he always been this toned? She couldn't remember. God... Wordlessly, she wrapped up the handful of ice and wound the shirt into a tight knot, still unable to tear her eyes away from his body. Doggett watched her, the intense gaze beginning to make him uncomfortable. Jesus! What the hell was her problem? He had an absurd urge to cover his body with his hands, like some blushing virgin. Finally, he couldn't take it any longer. "You about done?" he snapped. Scully eventually looked him in the eyes. "Huh?" Again with that unScully-like word and the funny look. Doggett scratched his ear. What the hell *was* that expression on her face? "I asked if you were done staring at me like I'm some kinda blue monkey." Scully shook her head and laughed. "A what?" "Somethin' my mama used to say," he muttered, looking down at his feet. "A blue monkey..." Scully murmured, smiling as she stepped forward to grasp him behind the head, swooping in with the ice-packed shirt. "Hold still now." Holding his breath at the unexpected touch, Doggett did as he was told and held perfectly still. He could feel her fingers sliding through his hair at the base of his head. She was standing incredibly close right between his parted knees. Eyes wide, he could feel his heart starting to bounce around in his chest with excitement. As her fingers slipped through the short hair at Doggett's neck, Scully felt a shiver go through her body. His skin was slick, his hair wet and cold with sweat. Strangely, rather than being gross, it was incredibly erotic. Carefully placing the bundle of ice on his forehead, she heard his hiss of breath, felt his head twitch as a small grunt escaped him. "Okay..." she soothed. "It's okay." She was standing between his open legs, a position so dangerously erotic and suggestive she felt another rush of arousal between her legs. She could feel his knees brushing the sides of hers, hot and damp. They were so close she could smell him, a clean sharp smell of hot skin and salt. It made her nostrils flare. God, he smelled wonderful, but she hoped he couldn't smell her. She was sure she must reek of sex. With the shirt bunched up right between his eyes, Scully was blocked from his sight, which was just as well, because Doggett was struggling to keep himself under control. The heat of her thighs near his was driving him crazy. He had to clench his fists to keep from running his hands up her legs to her ass. He could smell her too, all warm and fresh from working out, a subtle scent underlying the smell of hot skin. He wondered if it was deodorant or perfume. He wondered if he could get away with asking her. He wondered if he was imagining another scent underneath that. The smell of woman. His eyes screwed up tight. Don't think about that, John... he told himself. Uh-uh. Thinking about that'll send you crazy. He concentrated on the dull throb between his eyes, ignoring the deeper throb between his legs. Slowly pulling her hand from behind his head, Scully made the most of this rare opportunity to touch her partner. Relishing the slide over his smooth skin, the scratch of bristle on the side of his neck she brought her hand around to cup his jaw. His evening stubble was delightful on her palm. Screw medical ethics. She was going to make the most of this. His eyes were tight shut, so she took the opportunity to study his face up close. She inspected the laughter-lines framing each of his eyes, the sloping scar on his nose, wondering where he got it, peered at the mole on his chin, lightly running her thumb over it, smiling as he jumped slightly at the contact. Must be ticklish. "Let me see," she said at last, tilting his head up and moving the ice-pack away from his bruise. The mark was red, but not serious. It probably hadn't warranted ice at all, but she couldn't deny that she had enjoyed every second of ministering to him. "Nearly gone," she said, looking at him, this way and that. "I think you'll live." Doggett slowly opened his eyes. Scully had her hand on his chin, moving him gently first one way then the other. His mouth was cotton- dry. She was less than a foot way. Right in front of him. Inside his personal space, leaning down, staring into his face. He swallowed. Act natural, Doggett. "Uh-huh," he said. "Y'think?" "I think so." She smiled, almost tipping the last of his control over the edge. "I am a doctor, after all." "Yeah..." The word breathed out of him, taking every ounce of his strength. He stared into her eyes, wishing he had the courage or bald- faced recklessness to ask for a kiss. "Does it still hurt?" "Some..." The word came out little more than a whisper. He watched her smile at him, jiggling his chin slightly. "Baby," she said softly. Scully stared into the speckled depths of his eyes, gauging his reaction to her touching him like this. She didn't think she had ever been this close, this unbusiness-like. He seemed okay with it, though. If anything, she got the impression he was enjoying the contact. It felt like he was leaning into her hand, huge dilated pupils and his breathing shallow and erratic. Certainly his voice had gone very rough and quiet. If she didn't know any better, she'd guess he was very uneasy with their proximity. Uneasy, she mused, or turned on. The thought slammed into her, shocking her to the core. Taking the outrageous possibility that he might actually quite like this, she gathered up her courage and leaned that few inches further to place her lips very gently on the red mark. For a moment, Doggett imagined he was going to faint, the fact that Scully seemed to be tipping towards him, and then as her lips touched his skin, he was *sure* he was going to pass out. The barest hint of pressure on the bruise, a gossamer brush held in place for seconds that stretched into hours. The world squealed and narrowed to the one point in the universe that mattered to him. Her lips on his skin, the feel of her breath in his hair. In another heartbeat it might be a laughed off as joke, it might be a teasingly ironic gesture, but at that moment it was nothing but the most wonderful thing he had felt in a very long time. His eyes melted shut. All the blood in his body seemed to rush down to his lap warming him, making him swell against the constraints of his shorts, leaving him light-headed. Too soon it was over and she was moving away, taking her touch with her. He opened his eyes, wondering if how she had affected him showed on his face. He knew it was showing in his shorts. And there it was. That expression. This time he recognised it. It slowly dawned on him that he'd seen a similar expression the last time he'd looked in the mirror. Scully allowed herself just bare seconds to savour the feel of his hot skin beneath her lips, inhale the scent of his wet hair, then she retreated to a safe distance. She swallowed hard. "There..." she whispered. "All better..." Doggett was staring up at her with his mouth hanging open, an expression of such desperation on his face that her breath caught in her throat. He looked utterly shattered. She thought about asking if he was alright, but wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer when he was clearly anything but. Chagrined at her behaviour, she snatched her eyes away from his intense gaze and down towards the floor, pausing at the Lcyra out of sheer habit. What she saw there pulled her jaw down. He was filling the shorts in a way he hadn't been before. She stared. His erection was pulling the material out of shape, the curve of his swollen flesh emphasized by the sheen from the fabric. Even the large vein running down the length of him was clearly visible. He seemed to grow larger under her gaze. "Oh my..." she said. Doggett watched her eyes slide down his body and rest on his groin. He knew his arousal must be glaringly apparent, but he made no move to cover himself. Let her see what she did to him. He didn't care any more. He'd been given absolution when he saw the same hunger in her eyes. She would understand. Scully looked at Doggett's groin in amazement. She had done that to him... She had done that to him... The chant ran through her mind, gathering up all the erotic thoughts she'd ever had about this man and threw them at her, screaming in triumph. He wanted her. She swallowed. He wanted her *bad*. The very idea made her legs weak, her belly flip. Slowly, a smile appeared on her face. They both wanted the same thing. Okay, he might not know that she felt the same way, yet, but all she had to do was let him know. Give him a clue that the feelings he had growing in his pants were more than reciprocated. She bit her lip, thinking. How to put this? How to broach the subject of something that was so new and exciting it made her guts do the Hokey-Pokey. She thought some more, then brightened. The solution was simple. Entranced by the myriad of expressions flitting across Scully's face, Doggett could do nothing but sit and stare helplessly, his hands limp at his sides. The blush of arousal sat high in her cheeks making her eyes bright. He thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. A slow smile spread over her face as she looked up from his groin. The sight gave him goose bumps. "Hey..." she said softly. She dropped the ice-filled shirt on the bench and brought her hand up to his chin again. As he opened his mouth to reply to her, she dropped her head and placed her lips to his, her scorching tongue brushing over the edge of his mouth. Shocked but thrilled beyond belief, Doggett opened his mouth wider without the slightest hesitation, allowing her to slip inside . Scully took a tighter hold on Doggett's chin and slid her tongue inside his mouth, secretly thrilled by her own boldness, and his surrender. She touched her tongue to his, feeling a bolt of pleasure stab her crotch as their tongues stroked each other, their spit mingling together. Turning her head to get better access, she mused that he may have given himself to her, but he was by no means a helpless bystander in this kiss. He allowed her to plunder his mouth, but suckled on her tongue in reply, every thrust she gained was countered by an equally sensuous riposte. The restrained passion behind their kiss took her breath away. How long had he wanted this? And if this was their first, then how much more exciting would it be when they had learned each others bodies? She shuddered in anticipation. Doggett felt the tremble run through Scully's body and it shook him out of his haze. He pulled his tongue out of her mouth and leaned back a touch. Draggling in a wobbly breath, he looked her straight in the eyes. "You okay?" he whispered. He couldn't bear it if she was having second thoughts about kissing him. "Huh?" she said, her mouth wet and open. "You okay with this?" he asked again, reaching to brush that stray strand behind her ear. It thrilled him to his core that she allowed him to do it. She shook her head, taking his head between both her small hands. "Again," she said, then covered his mouth again, this time urgently, more deeply than before. Grunting under her assault, he put both hands to her waist, giving in to the overwhelming urge to touch her that he'd fought for so long. He put his hands on her. Scully felt his hands at her waist and another burst of arousal flooded her body. She bit down into the kiss, trying to let him know that she was more than okay with this. Without breaking the contact between their mouths, she moved closer, forcing his thighs wide apart, until she stood with her own thighs touching his crotch. She felt him grunt again as her legs made contact with his erection. Shamelessly, she adjusted her position to touch him again, needing to hear his arousal. Wanting to be the cause of it. God... Doggett couldn't breath. Never mind the fact that woman who had haunted his thoughts 24/7 was kissing him like she wanted to drown in his mouth, she was also touching him intimately. The pressure of her leg on his crotch made his dick swell outrageously, and was making it impossible to draw breath. He pushed himself against her, vaguely embarrassed by his need, but unable to stop himself. He groaned at her answering shift of position. Jesus! If she wriggled herself around like that much more, he was going to disgrace himself and come in his shorts like a teenager. Trying to distract himself from what was going on between his legs, he began to move his hands. Up and down, round to her waist seeking the bottom of her shirt. His hungry fingers found a tiny strip of bare skin and wriggled inside, pushing their way up her bare back. When his hands touched the skin on her back, Scully shuddered again, hardly able to believe what he did to her with the merest touch. She arched herself towards him, revelling in the contact, feeling both his warm hands on her, and his excitement under her. She pulled at his hair, tugging him closer, wanting to crawl inside him. Part of her mind was standing over by the ice machine, watching the pair of them practically crawling over one another, shaking its head and tutting. God knows what they must look like. Scully decided she really didn't care. She'd been holding herself back for too long, and now he'd breached her defences, she was completely helpless. She rubbed herself on him to try and scratch the itch that was building inside. She felt hot, wet and very, very full. All the blood that normally kept her head sane and sensible had gone between her legs and was making her throb and swell. Doggett pulled himself away from Scully insistent lips. Jesus! He was going to come any second if she kept rubbing herself on him like that. "Stop..." he gasped. "Wait..." She waited, holding still, thank God. He drew in a shaky breath. Then another one, spreading his hands over the small of her back. He was pleased to hear the little moan that dribbled out of her. "Just gimme a second, okay?" he said, closing his eyes and resting his head just below her breasts. He willed his orgasm to abate, focussing on his breathing, swallowing. Scully waited, using the moment to reign herself back from the edge. She bent her head to his and inhaled. God, he smelled good. "You okay?" she whispered into his cute, furled-over ear. She grinned as he shuddered at her words. "Not if you do that." "What?" She grinned, knowing exactly what he meant. She blew into his ear. "Hey!" Pulling away, he took his hand from her back and rubbed his ear, turning her smile into a laugh. "You're ticklish!" "So?" "I didn't know." "Well, you do now." Scully nodded. "So I do." She reached up and pulled his hand away. "It's okay. I won't do it again." "Gee, that's a shame." "Oh?" "Yeah. I like it." He winked, grinning. "Turns me on." Scully threw back her head and laughed delightedly. Doggett watched her laughing, a warm feeling settling in his belly. He wished she'd have had cause to do that more the past few years. She looked wonderful. "You think that's funny?" he teased. Wiping her eyes, Scully shook her head. "Not really, but it seems to me like everything turns you on, John Doggett." To make her point, she leaned her leg into his crotch. Groaning, Doggett winced. "Jeez, woman... Have pity!" He put his hand on her inner thigh to push her away. It felt like hot silk. "You don't like it?" Her knee nudged his hand. Shaking his head, he gazed up at her shining face. God, she was beautiful. "Yeah, I like," he said, pulling a face, moving his hand to cover himself. "I like it *too* much." She laughed again. "Take it like a man, John Doggett." He gave her a look. "You think it's funny to tease?" She smirked at him. "Maybe." He smiled. "Well, let's see how you like it," he said. Scully grinned as he pushed her backwards a touch. She felt outrageous, reckless and a little bit out of control. Hell... She was a *lot* out of control, she thought as Doggett ran his hands down her arms and onto her waist. And it felt wonderful. "Yeah?" she said, tipping his chin to up. "Think you can bother me?" He grinned up at her, sending a fizzy feeling into her guts. "You better believe it, woman." He stared for a second longer then dipped his head to rest his forehead below her breasts, bringing both hands up to sneak under her teeshirt. His fingers ran over her skin, tickling slightly. She resisted the urge to shudder, putting both hands up to rest on his bare shoulders. "Nope. Not happening, I'm afraid," she lied, squeezing the skin under her hands. Doggett didn't answer, just pushed her shirt up a little more, until with a rush of desire, she felt his mouth on her belly. Doggett grinned at the way she jumped when he kissed her stomach. Not so tough, after all. He pressed his advantage, kissing a line across the exposed skin. The heat of her body and the smell of her scent was driving him crazy. He was intoxicated with the knowledge that she wanted him, wanted him to do this. Giddy, he traced the skin above the edge of her short-elastic with his tongue, thrilled to feel her shuddering. Her hands kneaded his shoulder, pulling and squeezing his skin, encouraging him. Pushing his hands up her shirt, right to the underside of her breasts, he stroked her with both thumbs. There was a tiny sound from way above his head. He looked up. "Yeah?" he teased. "Uh-uh." Scully shook her head fiercely, the lock of hair falling across her face again. "Not even close," she whispered. Chuckling, he pursed his lips. "Okay... Let's try again." He ducked down and nestled his face in her belly, opening his mouth to suckle on her skin. This time she jumped significantly, but he didn't stop. He bit gently on the rise of a hip bone as his hands slid down to the top of her shorts. He was determined to make her shudder again, to feel her body respond helplessly to him. The scrape of Doggett's teeth on her skin was incredible. Scully held her breath as he bit down on her, not hard enough to hurt, but perversely, firmly enough to make her want him to do it harder. Her eyes closed as she leaned closer. There wasn't have time to consider how the biting sensation of his teeth made her feel about herself, because those strong hands were snaking down to the elastic of her shorts, hooking agile fingers under and tugging slightly. Her eyes popped open. She looked down. Doggett was sliding her shorts dangerously low on her hips as he nipped and sucked on her skin, working his way lower and lower... Oh shit... Her body jerked as he reached the tender flesh above her pubic hair. His hands gripped tighter, holding her still, pressed to his mouth. Scully swallowed, despite her determination not to show him he was affecting her, her body betrayed her, insinuating itself into him, flushing and moistening. "Doggett..." She cleared her throat, unable to take her eyes off the sight of his sweat-spiked head bent so intimately to her body. She clenched her hands on his slippy shoulders. "Okay," she said, relenting. If he kept this up, she was going to come from the teasing, the very suggestion of intimacy alone. Doggett ignored her. He could feel her hands kneading urgently on him, smell her heat and hear how unsteady her voice was. He grinned in truimph, dragging his tongue across her lower belly. Payback was a bitch. He pulled his hands from her waistband and quickly ran them up the back of both thighs, sliding under the hem of her shorts and up to her ass. He heard her groan as he grabbed her and pushed her crotch into his face, bending more to nuzzle her through the material. "Shit!" She grabbed him by the hair and pulled him sharply away. Leaving his hands where they were he grinned up at her, holding her tight in his grip. "Yeah?" he asked as innocently as he could. Scully scowled down at him. She shook his head lightly. "You..." "We `bout even, now?" Narrowing her eyes, but smiling slightly, she stared down, still holding tight to his damp hair. She wasn't holding hard enough to hurt and he knew he could pull away quite easily, but he allowed her to hold him still, enjoying the power-game. "You are a dangerous man, John Doggett," Scully said, tightening her grip on his hair, shaking him back and forth slightly. He just stared up at her, big blue eyes sparkling, a wicked grin on his face. She thought he looked utterly, and completely beautiful. "I am?" "Oh, yes." She bent down and put her lips over his. "But I rather like that," she said, her mouth brushing his. As he leaned up to complete the kiss, she moved back, smiling. The look of pique on his face was well worth the disappointment of missing out on a kiss. She plopped one on an undamaged bit of his forehead instead. "What am I going to do with you?" she mused, sliding her fingers from his hair. She smoothed her palms over his shoulders again. Somehow she doubted she would ever get enough of his golden, well-defined body. Her hands wanted to run all over it, rubbing, scratching, kneading. She wanted to touch every inch of him, wanted to taste every inch. But the relaxation room of the gym wasn't really the place. They were damned lucky not to have been interrupted as it was. "And what exactly would you *like* to do with me?" Doggett asked, his head tilted curiously. Scully grinned. The look on her face was enough to make the blood pooled in Doggett's crotch roar and pound. That expression told him there was a whole host of things she wanted to do with him, and that was just fine by him. He licked his lips. "Because I think we should compare suggestions, don't you?" "Oh? You think you have some input on this matter, do you?" Her hands roamed down the front of his chest. He nodded. "I reckon I have some pretty good proposals." "Been thinking about it for a while, then?" "Some," he grinned. Maybe he'd get round to confessing just how much she'd been occupying his thoughts, one day. "Ah. I see." She was playing with his nipples, teasing and pinching lightly. He arched his back at her, enjoying the sharp sensations. Scully watched his nipples peak and tighten as she played with them. He was satisfyingly responsive. More than she'd hoped for. Even more than she fantasized about. Her insides shivered at the thought of getting this man somewhere private to explore just how responsive he could be. She leaned towards him again, brushing her lips over his. "Your place or mine?" she whispered, moving to pull away again. But this time he whipped his hand out of her shorts and grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her down, capturing her mouth. He opened it up with his lips and slid his tongue inside to kiss her slowly, deeply, and thoroughly, before letting her go. "Mine," he said, wet lips sliding across her cheek towards her ear. "Closer." Scully shuddered at his words and nodded. "Ten minutes?" she whispered, nodding towards the changing rooms. Doggett tangled his fingers through her hair, teasing the elastic band out, letting it fall forward. "Uh-huh." She watched him looking at his fingers as they ran through her hair. He seemed hypnotised. "John..." She smiled. He wasn't listening. Grabbing his chin, she pulled him to look at her face. "Meet me out front. Ten minutes, okay?" He nodded. "Ten minutes." "If you're not there, I'm going home alone." Panic flitted across his face for a second. He shook his head firmly. "I'll be there." "Uh-huh. One more thing..." She waited until she had his complete attention, then gave in to the urge she'd had in the gym and ran her tongue up the side of his face. The salt of his sweat made her mouth water. She narrowed her eyes at him and glared. "Don't you dare shower. You hear?" Throat bobbing as he swallowed, Doggett nodded. "Yes, ma'am." Smiling, Scully let go of his chin and stood back, his hand dropping out of her shorts. She walked backwards towards the ladies changing rooms, holding his gaze the whole time. She wanted to remember every detail of this scene. The endearingly mussed hair. The way he was sitting with his legs spread to accommodate his straining erection. The sheen of sweat on his skin, the fire shining in his eyes. He was the essence of sexual arousal and physical perfection. And he was all hers. The smile turned into a feral grin. She held up a finger as she opened the door. "Ten minutes." By the look on his face, he'd be ready in three.