Title: Love In An Elevator by agent myers Rating: R - a little nookie, a little humor, a little sweetness... Keywords: DRR Summary: Your classic "stuck in an elevator" story. Spoilers: Season 9 Disclaimer: They're not mine. Duh. Feedback: I live for it. tred2@yahoo.com Archive: Just ask me. All individuals and archives that I have previously given permission to are welcome to it. Website: All of my fic can be found at www.agentmyersexperience.com. Author's Notes: All I can say is, IT'S ABOUT *&$%ING TIME!!!!! And, I hope this doesn't suck. See, I've had a severe case of writer's block lately. I've been trying to finish this story for about six months. I want to thank all those that have encouraged me to keep writing, and all the fans of the X-Files that have stayed true to TXF even though it's off the air now. Recommended listening: "Love In An Elevator" by Aerosmith (of course), "Sweet Child Of Mine" performed by Sheryl Crow. ~~~~ Love In An Elevator by agent myers ~~~~ She heard her bedroom door open. She didn't move in her bed to acknowledge the sound, or to see who it was. She heard the easy footsteps on the carpet as he approached her bed, and then only the sound his quiet breathing. Her pulse quickened with anticipation, her body trembled with excitement. Still, she didn't move. She felt the bed tilt slightly to his weight as he crawled onto it with her. For a moment there was no movement. He was looking at her...she could feel his eyes upon her. He was watching her as she lay there, watching her wait for him. It seemed she waited several minutes to feel his hand on her back, running all the way down to her upper thigh, and then up again. His hands were warm tonight. She sighed softly, and felt him move closer to her, until she could feel his breath against her ear. He kissed her neck gently. Finally, she turned onto her back to meet the eyes of her lover, only to find that the darkness hid his face. All she could see was the outline of his naked body. She put her arms around him as he bent to kiss her lips. While they kissed, his hands began their tender exploration of her bare flesh. They traveled down her neck to her shoulder, and stopped for moment against her breast. The tip of his finger rolled over her nipple, making it stand erect. She shivered. And then he began to kiss her neck, and her sensitive earlobes. She felt his fingertips roam gently from her breasts to her belly, and finally between her legs. She parted them slightly to allow his hands to touch her there. She smiled in the darkness as he felt his fingers slide into her wet folds. He had wonderful hands, and every which way he moved them gave her pleasure. She moaned as he probed her further. An ache rose within her, and she was ready to beg for him to be inside her, but she didn't have to. He covered her body with his. The warmth of his skin reached down to her soul, and made her feel so many things...love, comfort, and most of all, desire. He entered her slowly and gently, his mouth never leaving her lips as he buried himself within her. Her mouth opened and a gasp escaped. The sound of his breathing filled her ears. She slid her hands over his back, and down to his buttocks, and felt the muscles contract with each stroke. She arched her back to make it deeper, harder, and then kissed him roughly on his lips. He responded by quickening his pace, pushing against her with such a force that she thought he might bruise the back of her thighs. She didn't care...she liked it that way. Sweat poured between them, and she tasted the saltiness of it when he kissed her. He did not speak to her, nor did he make a sound save for his harsh, irregular breath. She hands still lay on his back, and she was certain that her nails were piercing his flesh. She came hard and fast, arching her back to him as he followed suit seconds later. She felt his entire body tense against her, and then felt the silent explosion inside her. Then there was nothing but the trembling of his body against hers, and the glorious relaxing of her body. And when she opened her eyes again, she saw his face. She smiled lovingly. "John..." His blue eyes were bright, even in the dark. His tiny lips were turned up in a small smile. He opened his mouth to speak to her, but she couldn't hear his voice over the sound of the alarm clock. Monica's eyes flew open. On instinct, she smacked the alarm clock on it's top, and the awful buzzing stopped. She looked around the room, as if she expected someone to be there. It was a dream. A freaking dream. Monica bit her lip and suppressed the urge to laugh. It had been so real...and it had been the most satisfying dream she'd ever had. She moved to turn over, and blushed as she realized that she was very wet. She wanted to go back to sleep, to find him in her dreams again. But that had never worked in the past, and she'd be late for work if she went back to sleep. She stretched out in her bed. John Jay Doggett. She would give anything to know him as she knew him in her dreams. But real life interfered...their jobs, their fears, their insecurities...how could she ever work up the courage to tell him the way she really felt? A close confidant might tell her to 'just go for it', but she knew it was much more complicated than anyone could understand. If John Doggett rejected her, Monica doubted that she could ever have the courage to love another man again. She sighed, and decided to be content with her dreams. Dreams were safe. A dream couldn't reject you, and a dream couldn't hurt you. Dreams allowed you to do all the things you wish you could do when you were awake, and without the consequences. Dreams weren't real, but they had to be enough. Monica threw off the covers and got out of bed. After a good, long stretch, she grabbed her robe and padded into the bathroom for her morning shower. ~~~ "Chinese sound good?" Monica broke out of her daze and looked up at her partner. "Hmm?" "Chinese? For lunch?" John repeated. A beat. "You alright?" He asked her, squinting his eyes the way he always did. Monica stared at him for a moment, trying to persuade her brain to think about lunch instead of the problem of the day - always the same - how to maintain a mature, working relationship with someone she was in love with. It was impossible. "I'm fine. Chinese sounds okay." John cocked his head to the side slightly. "You've been out of it all morning. What's goin' on with you?" Monica shook her head and smiled. She always enjoyed John's concern for her, even though she knew that he was the type of man who was concerned for everyone around him. "I just didn't sleep well. I had...dreams." John nodded and opened his mouth as though he was going to speak, when the phone rang. Monica breathed a sigh of relief, glad that he didn't ask any questions about her dream. Just thinking about it was enough to make her blush...she couldn't imagine actually telling him. When John had finished his phone call, he hung up the phone and picked up his jacket. "So...chinese?" He asked, putting his arm through the coat. "I'm starvin'." She smiled and picked up her own jacket. As John walked past her to the door, she caught his familiar scent of aftershave and soap. She liked that John didn't wear cologne. He didn't need to anyway...his scent was attractive enough as it was. As they headed for the elevator, Monica's stomach growled. Maybe a little chinese food would take her mind off the images she hadn't been able to shake all morning. Yeah. Right. The doors closed in front of them, and John and Monica stared at their reflections in the stainless steel doors. Seconds went by as the elevator began to move, and the pair stood in silence, until it came to a halting stop that nearly threw the agents off balance. A loud screeching noise filled the elevator. "What the hell?" John muttered, and pushed several buttons on the panel. Nothing happened. The lights flickered momentarily, but came back on as soon as the cabin stopped rocking. John slammed his fist against the panel. "Damn it! What the hell's wrong with this thing?" Monica looked at John, who's face showed nothing but pure annoyance. He got that way when he was hungry. ~~~ An hour later, Monica had given up the idea of eating lunch. By the time they got out, it would probably be time for supper. John, on the other hand, paced like a caged animal until his cell phone rang. He spoke briefly to Skinner. John ended his call and looked down to Monica, who was sitting on the floor. "Skinner says they're workin' on it now. Somethin' to do with the hydraulic system up on the top floor or some damn thing." Monica sighed. "Well, how long will that take?" John sighed heavily. "They said it could be hours before they can get the thing movin'." Great, Monica thought. Hungry as hell, and stuck in an elevator for the next few hours. Perfect. She looked up at John, and gave him a defeated look. He closed his eyes for a moment, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He never did that. Then he sank down next to Monica. "Guess we can forget about lunch." He said, looking at her. Monica did not fail to notice that he was sitting awfully close to her. So close, in fact, that she could smell him again. She breathed in his natural, masculine scent and was reminded of her father. He always smelled good, too. Monica pulled a package of cinnamon gum from her coat pocket and handed a piece to John. He accepted it and popped it into his mouth, reducing himself to the idea that gum was the closest thing they were going to get to lunch. "God, I'm glad it's Friday." John said, breaking the silence. "I got a couch and a remote that's calling my name." Monica cracked a smile. "You're not getting lazy in your old age, I hope." John wrinkled his nose for a second. "Naw...just that's it's been a busy week, and I'm lookin' forward to a little down time. I spent all last week workin' on the house, catchin' up on laundry, washin' the truck..." Instantly a picture popped into Monica's mind: John, bare-chested and drenched, washing his truck in the sunshine. Muscles bulging, sweat pouring... Monica blushed. "What's your plan for the weekend?" John asked. Monica thought hard to come up with something interesting, but it was no use. She didn't have any real friends in DC, and New Orleans was just a little too far away. Save for the X-Files, Monica's life was rather dull. And apparently, John's was too. Monica shook her head. "I don't have any. Maybe it's time to go out and get that cat." John chuckled at her reference to their conversation about pets. "Maybe it's time to go out and get a life...both of us." Exactly, Monica wanted to say. We're both lonely...we both need someone. Just connect the dots, John. But she couldn't say that. It was too forward, even for her. She decided to try a different approach. "Maybe we...you and I...could get together for something. A movie, maybe or..." John was nodding his head. "...or maybe some drinks." "Yeah." John said. "I know a great little dive just a few miles from my house. Been there once or twice, but I always thought it would be better to have a friend with me." Monica nodded. "Sounds like fun. I know it sounds so juvenile, but...I'd love to get smashed." John looked her right in the eye and couldn't suppress his grin. "Me too." They regarded each other for a long time, and shared a pleasant moment. Monica decided to take it a step further and hoped that she wouldn't fall flat on her face. "It's kind of a long cab ride for me, though. From your part of town." she said, looking down at the ground. John shrugged. "You could always stay..." he looked up and something caught him. "...over." Monica stared at him. Stay? The night? As in...sleep? John seemed to have realized at the same moment as she, what he was saying (or could be implying). Even so, he didn't take his eyes away from her. "You could stay the night." he said, repeating himself more firmly. Something passed between them for a moment, and Monica felt both excited and scared to be talking about staying the night with John. Their eyes stayed locked on each other's for a long, silent moment. John opened his mouth, as if he were about to say something, but didn't. He broke eye contact with her and began fondling his shoelace. So much for that, Monica thought. "So tell me about your bad dream." John said suddenly. If he was trying to change the subject, then he had picked the wrong one. Monica's gut dropped. Monica smiled in spite of herself. "Oh, it was...it's nothing interesting." she stammered. John shrugged his shoulders. "We've got time. Might as well." Monica sighed heavily and then cleared her throat. "I don't...really want to talk about it." John turned his head to look at her. He thought it was strange that her face had turned a light shade of pink. "Why not? Musta been somethin' really bad..." Monica sighed again, and pulled her knees up in front of her. "It wasn't really a *bad* dream, just something I'd rather not talk about." Monica said, and hoped that her refusal wouldn't be taken as snotty. When John didn't say anything, she looked up at him. To her surprise, he had an interesting smirk on his face. "What?" John's smile widened. "It was one of *those* dreams, huh?" Monica's eyes widened just a bit. Was he psychic or something? When she didn't answer him, he started chuckling. "Knew it. You had a wet dream, didn't ya, Monica?" He joked. Monica pursed her lips. There was no use denying it. She was a terrible liar. And she couldn't keep a smile of embarrassment from spreading across her face. "Yeah, you did." John said, laughing and elbowing her in the ribs. Monica felt a bit warm. He was relentless. "So...tell me about it." Monica wrinkled up her nose and gasped. "No!" "C'mon...we're adults." "Forget it, John." "Aww, Monica...c'mon." "No way." "Why not? Was I in it or something?" A terrible liar, Monica was, but she managed to choke out a response. "No." John sighed. "Skinner?" "No." "Mulder?" "No, John." "Scully?" "No!" Monica barked, laughing. "Just tell me then!" Monica shook her head. With a frustrated sigh, John sat back against the elevator wall again, having reduced himself to the fact that he wasn't going to get it out of her. He crossed his arms and they sat in silence for a moment. Monica did the same, crossing her arms in a protective sort of way. Not that it was any of his business, but Monica sensed that she had hurt John just a little by not confiding in him. When she began to speak, it almost startled John. "I was asleep in bed. He came to me." John didn't say anything, but looked slowly up at Monica. She stared ahead at the other side of the wall, remembering. "I couldn't see his face, but I knew him. I knew by how he felt, how he...smelled. I knew by the way he touched me. I..." Monica paused. "I don't know how I knew it was him, because he's never touched me like that before, in real life. But I knew him then." John wasn't grinning like a fool as he had been a moment before. He listened to Monica. "We made love. He knew just the way I wanted it...knew just how to..." Monica stopped, having been lost in the recollection of her dream; she now felt John's eyes upon her. She looked up at him, her cheeks reddened with awkwardness. His eyes were fixed on her. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?" He asked, his voice almost a whisper. She looked down at her folded hands. "Yeah. Too long, I guess." "You deserve more." He said, and then looked away before she could meet his eyes. For a few moments they sat in stillness; the only sound between them was the hum of electricity coursing through the building around them. When John moved towards Monica, she was almost startled. His arms reached around her waist and pulled her to him. Before her brain could translate what was happening, he was kissing her. Slowly and deeply, passionately. Just the way she liked it. His arms snaked around her body as they kissed, pulling her closer. His hands crept underneath her shirt, and caressed the soft skin of her back. It all began innocently enough, but as the minutes rolled by, clothing was lost and scattered throughout the elevator, and all cares about lunch and being trapped inside a steel box were forgotten with the smell of skin and the sound of quiet moans. When it was over, Monica lay facing John. He smiled at her, and smoothed her hair away from her face. He was thinking that he'd never seen anything as beautiful as Monica Reyes. "It was you." Monica said, closing her eyes momentarily. John cocked his head to the side and wrinkled up his brow. "You were my lover." She said. John smiled lazily. "Your dream?" Monica nodded. With that, John pulled her close to him and kissed her gently on the shoulder. ~~~ After five hours and thirty-six minutes, the number three elevator's doors opened. John and Monica, surprisingly looking no worse for wear, stepped out into the lobby and were greeted by a group of repairmen, and a few building security personnel. The workers gave their most heart-felt apologies, and sent the tired, and still-hungry pair on their way. Needless to say, the workday was over with. "We should head down to the office and make sure everything's locked, doncha think?" John asked Monica. She agreed, and followed him to the basement office. Monica was floating. She couldn't believe what had just happened. She exchanged knowing glances with John as they made their way through the busy halls. When they were finally alone in the basement office, John took Monica by the hand and brought her closer. "I know it probably wasn't what you had in mind. Doin' it in an elevator, I mean." John said, in a subtle voice. Monica smiled and leaned into him. "It was with you. The place doesn't matter to me." Monica's grinned widened. "And the elevator...well...it was kind of exciting." she said. John beamed back at her and kissed her softly. God, this was all to incredible, he thought. John's cell phone rang, and broke the momentary spell that he was under. "Now what?" John sighed, and then answered his call. Monica listened in on John's side of the conversation. "No, Sir. We were just on our way out for the day." A pause. "This isn't something that can wait 'til Monday? Not a case, I hope." Monica sighed heavily at the thought of having to take on a case. She began to feel the weight of the day throbbing in her back muscles... "Alright, Sir. Be there in a minute." John said, and then ended his call. "What's up?" Monica asked. "Skinner wants to see us ASAP." Monica closed her eyes. "Great. Just great." ~~~ Skinner's secretary sprung to her feet when she saw the agents trudging into the reception area. John had just planted himself on the couch, with Monica beside him, when Skinner's assistant called them in the office. They exchanged glances. Usually they had to wait. Monica noticed right away that there were no files or paperwork on Skinner's desk. John and Monica sat in the two chairs provided for them, the way they had many times. Skinner did not look pleased. But then again, he hardly ever looked pleased. Monica found it hard to swallow as she tried to figure out why in the world she and John were sitting here. And then, she had a thought. It amplified through her mind and almost came out of her mouth in a gasp. Could Skinner know about what happened in the elevator? In mere seconds she contemplated this. Surely not. They hadn't made any noises...how would he - or anyone - possibly know? "Do you know why I called you in here, agents?" John and Monica once again exchanged looks. "No, sir." Doggett said, looking at Skinner. "No clue." Skinner furrowed his brow and pursed his lips. Whatever he was about to say, it was taking him a great deal of thought. Monica's stomach began to drop. He couldn't possibly know... The two agents watched Skinner lean back in his chair and take off his glasses. Not good. "Well, what is it, Sir?" John asked. Clearly he was not having the same thoughts as Monica. Skinner hesitated for an insanely long moment before saying: "I've pulled you in here to talk about...bureau policies." A beat. "Codes of conduct between agents." Monica visibly sank in her chair. She couldn't help it, it was a defense mechanism. Skinner knew. Somehow, he knew. Jesus. Shit. John didn't speak. "I know what happened in the elevator." Skinner said, looking directly at John. "Oh, God." Monica groaned, hiding her face in her hand. John's eyes widened to the size of quarters. He stared into the exacting eyes of his superior. John didn't know what to say, but he knew he had to say something. "Sir, I...we..." "Save it Agent Doggett. You and Agent Reyes are fully aware of the policies we have to adhere to while on the job. Your conduct was irresponsible at best, lewd at worst. I have a great deal of respect for you both, and I never, ever would have thought you would be capable of such blatant disregard for the bureau's policy on *personal* conduct." Skinner's voice steadily rose until he was almost yelling. There was nothing that either agent could say in their defense; they could only sit and wait for him to throw them out. The Assistant Director was obviously agitated more than usual. He got out of his chair and paced back and forth behind his chair. The office was quiet for a long time. Finally, Skinner sat back down. John figured he'd decided on their punishment by now. Skinner opened a drawer in his desk and pulled a black object out. He set in on the desk in front of the agents. It was a videotape. "Are you aware, Agents, that the Hoover building's elevators are equipped with video cameras?" Neither agent could answer him. Both of their jaws fell open. "Well they are. Digital cameras, in fact, the kind that can pick up even the slightest details. I'm afraid the VHS version isn't as good, but it's standard procedure to keep these tapes in case some kind of criminal activity becomes apparent later." John could not look at his boss. He couldn't say anything that would make this scene any less horrific. He wanted to run away, screaming. But Skinner wasn't finished. "You're very lucky that this tape didn't fall into the hands of Assistant Director Follmer, or Deputy Director Kersh. Because they'd have you suspended and reassigned so fast it would make your head spin." Skinner pushed the tape towards the agents. Monica looked up at him, and John did too. Skinner's expression softened a bit. He waited a moment before speaking again. "But this matter is in my hands. And...to be fair, I never intervened in Mulder and Scully's relationship because they were damn good agents and they deserved it. And so do you." Monica swallowed. "But I don't *ever* want to hear of any incidents like this again. When you're at work, I expect you to behave as if you are nothing more than two people who work together, am I understood?" "Yes, Sir." the agents answered, nodding their heads in earnest. "Alright....now get out of here." John and Monica sprang from their chairs, red-faced and about ready to piss themselves. They headed towards the office door, post-haste, when Skinner called to them again. "Oh, and, Agents?" He picked up the tape and tossed it into John's arms. "Don't forget your souvenir." Once the agents left the office, they were so stunned that they could hardly talk to each other. John's eyes were still wide as quarters; Monica couldn't stop biting her lip. Once in the parking garage, John and Monica faced each other. They stared into each other's eyes. And then they broke into fits of laughter. It echoed throughout the whole garage. "Can you believe what just happened?" Monica asked. John shook his head. "I'll never be able to look at the man the same way again. He...he saw us!" "I know." Monica said, covering her mouth and giggling at the same time. Then, the pair went silent for a moment, the laughter died away slowly. John got a sly look on his face. He held up the tape. Monica grinned. "My place...or yours?" John asked. "Whichever's closest..." Monica responded, grinning, and got into the passenger side of John's car. ~finish "The search for truth is more precious than it's possession."