Title:  To Dream of Caramel
Author: ML
Email: msnsc21@aol.com
Feedback: It's like caramel and cinnamon to me.
Distribution: Sure!  Let me know if you can so I can visit.
Spoilers: Nothing overt (you can play Guess the Episode!)
Rating: PG
Classification: V, UST
Keywords: Character study
Summary: Sittin' and thinkin'
Disclaimer:  no names here, so who could I possibly be writing about?  No one 
Chris Carter knows, I'm sure!

To Dream of Caramel by ML

It won't do to dream of caramel, to think of cinnamon and long for you.
-Suzanne Vega

He has been dreaming of what she might taste like if he kissed her.  These 
day dreams happen mostly in the afternoon, after lunch.  Lately she's been 
treating herself to a non-fat iced caramel latte.  It sits on her desk, the 
sides of the cup gently sweating in the stuffy office as she sips at it all 
afternoon.  It's a kind of torture, but a torture he relishes.  He sneaks a 
look at her when she picks up the cup, watches her lips curve around the 
straw and draw the liquid up, up, into her mouth.  Then she puts the cup down 
again, wipes her fingers on a tissue, and her head is bent over her work 
again.  Hoo.

He could ask her out.  She'd probably say yes.  But the possibility that 
she'll say no paralyzes him into inaction.  Once he would not have hesitated. 
 But they have too much shared history, and it would be too much like taking 
advantage of privileged information.

She's particularly vulnerable now.  She cried in his arms recently, and he 
stood stock-still, afraid to touch her more than a soft pat on her shoulder.  
Then she wiped her eyes, gave him a tremulous smile, and went on with the 
day.  Crisis averted once again.

The smell of cinnamon makes him think of her, too.  It is the color of her 
hair.   He knows she colors it, he's observed the changes over the years.  
When she cried in his arms, he touched her hair briefly, and sniffed at it.  
He couldn't help it--her head was right there, under his chin--and he was 
vaguely disappointed that it smelled more of vanilla than cinnamon.  Vanilla 
is too bland a scent for her.  Cinnamon is what he thinks of when he sees her.

They are friends.  They have lunch together nearly every day, but it's never 
progressed beyond that for some reason.  They've worked closely together for 
years.  They've been in dangerous situations together, seen each other in the 
worst conditions.  They've seen each other naked, though in the least erotic 
circumstances possible.  He slept in her bed once, though not with her.  
She's spent the night at his apartment, though not with him.

He's made tentative overtures.  He says things to her, but in such a way that 
she can ignore them or discount them if she chooses.   It cracks his heart a 
little more each time she does, but he doesn't blame her.  He blames himself 
for not having the guts to be a little more direct.  The knowledge of his 
cowardace isn't enough to make him change his approach though.  He calls her 
on the weekends from the office to ask questions which could have waited 
until Monday.  He stops by her apartment because he "happened to be in the 
neighborhood."  He suggests they grab dinner and work together at his place.  
She never says no, she's never busy doing something else.  But he never asks 
her to do anything that isn't work-related.  

Once or twice she has expressed a desire for more in her life.  More than 
what they have?  More than what he can give her?  He isn't sure.  Her 
approach to personal subjects is, if possible, even more oblique than his.  
She at least brings it up once in a while; he prefers to ignore what seems 
not even remotely possible.

His greatest fear is that she will seek out what's missing in her life 
somewhere else.

His fondest hope is that some day she will turn to him and tell him that he 
*is* all she needs in her life.

The former seems more likely than the latter.

end.
===
Author's notes:  I don't know what it is with me and songs lately.  
Everything seems to remind me of M&S, which I guess is great for my muse, but 
I'm not getting anything else done!  I hope you enjoyed it anyway.  Special 
thanks to my writing classmates for listening and liking it (even though they 
didn't know it was fanfic).  Feedback from *you* would be utterly fantastic.  
msnsc21@aol.com