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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

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Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 3

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Winter soldiers on, the cold and occasional snow giving way to the promise of spring. Her birthday comes and goes, celebrated at her mother’s with her family as it had been before there was someone else to lay claim to her time on special days. The vacant spaces in her apartment that had been occupied by Ethan’s books and clothes, his toiletries, and VHS collection, begin to be filled by evidence of her new, single life. Her solitary toothbrush in the cup by the sink starts to look normal, the indent on her finger where his ring lived begins to fade, and the silence she arrives home to at the end of her workday becomes mundane instead of painful. Though this change was initiated and welcomed by her, change is always hard. She goes through the motions of being okay until one day in early April, she realizes that she is. The budding crocuses bring with them the optimism of a new life, another chance. A third chance, as it were, to get it right. Now she only has to figure out what right is.

Though they’ve always been close, she and Missy become even closer, taking up the space in each other’s lives that would otherwise be consumed by boyfriends or lovers. They are each other’s better half, sharing the minutiae of their workdays and staying available for unexpected illness or the need to move heavy furniture. While every human needs other humans to thrive, the Scully sisters fill that need with each other, shunning the idea of casual dating simply for the sake of companionship. There is no companion more perfect than the one who has known you since before you could understand the need for such a partner in life, and who is by your side not out of obligation, but because their soul is stitched so firmly to your own. They have always pledged their dedication to each other through thick and thin, and the new year of 1997 proves that to be a sincere promise on both their parts.

As such, they sit at their favorite local coffee shop on Sunday afternoon when Missy finally dares to ask her sister the question she’s avoided for the past four months. Not because she was afraid of her reaction, but because she knew Dana wasn’t ready to talk about it.

“Have you heard from Mulder at all?” she asks so casually that Dana flicks her eyes up and stares in disbelief, not sure that she heard her right.

“What?” Dana asks, her heart having lept for one single beat at the mention of his name.

“Mulder. Have you had any contact with him, or seen him?” Missy is misleadingly casual, acting as though this is not a question she’s been waiting months to ask.

“No,” Dana says flatly, her eyes dropping down to her coffee cup. “I wouldn’t expect to.”

“Does he know that you and Ethan split?” Missy asks next, her feet folded underneath her in the oversized armchair.

“I don’t see how he would,” Dana posits.

“Have you considered reaching out to him?” Missy tries, watching her sister for signs that she is going to shut the conversation down.

Dana shakes her head glumly. “After what I put him through, I’m sure I’m the last person he wants to hear from. That was nearly nine months ago, he’s probably long since moved on.”

“Have you? Moved on?”

Dana pulls in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I don’t know how to answer that. What does it mean, to move on?”

“Do you still think about him?” No assertions, just gentle questions, leading her sister to the conclusion she knows she needs to come to.

Dana nods softly. “All the time. Every day.”

“Then I think your answer would be no. You should contact him, Dana. It feels like unfinished business.” Missy has a thing about unfinished business. She believes it prevents you from achieving your full potential in life.

“Missy...what would I even say? ‘Sorry I broke your heart, good news is it didn’t even work out so it was all for nothing’? I don’t want to cause him more pain than I already have.” Her tone is resigned and defeated. Another regret she will come to live with, pinned to her lapel with a collection of other mistakes that she can never quite atone for.

Missy shrugs. “You know what I think. The rest is up to you.”

Missy is right. The trouble is, she doesn't trust herself to make these decisions anymore. She’s proven to herself that she doesn’t know how to make the right one.

———

“Excuse me,” a rough, nasally voice calls from behind her. She turns to see a red nosed young man in the doorway of the pathologist’s office, slumped against the doorframe with watery eyes. “I’m here to pick up an autopsy report, for, um...I think it’s Richards or something.”

Scully has worked with this courier before, and compared to his typical demeanor it’s easy to tell that he’s unwell.

“Are you alright?” she asks as she uses her feet to push her rolling chair over to the file cabinet, retrieving the report in question.

“Uh, not really, no. But if I call out sick one more time I’m gonna get canned.” He leans his head against the cool metal of the doorframe. She suspects he’s feverish.

“You don’t look well enough to work. Where is this headed?” she asks, still holding the file in her hand.

The young man blows out a stream of air and she holds her breath for a moment, not wanting to inhale whatever he’s infected with. He pulls a slip of paper from his pocket. “Hoover Building, Behavioral Science Unit. Agent Kissop.” He stuffs the paper back in his pocket and looks around, taking refuge in the extra chair near the end of her desk.

She feels a little flutter in her belly; what are the odds?

“I’ll tell you what,” she begins, “I was just about to head out for the day and I live in Georgetown, so I’m going that way anyway. Can I drop this off for you? You don’t look well enough to drive and I’d hate to see you on the news in the morning if you cause an accident.”

He sighs deeply, the biggest display of excitement he can muster. “Are you sure? I’d really appreciate it,” he says, his eyelids barely maintaining half-mast.

“No problem at all,” she replies, gathering her coat and purse. “You get home and take some Tylenol, okay? And get some rest.”

He nods weakly and she leaves him there, climbing into her car with the file and a pounding heart. She can’t help but feel like this is a sign. She’s been thinking about signs a lot lately, and she’s recently resolved to start paying attention to them.

———

Mulder stands beside the copy machine, doing his Wednesday afternoon ritual of fighting with the toner cartridge and cursing profusely. From around the corner, he can hear AD Kirkbride drumming up his own song of profanity, which is more of a daily ritual than a weekly one.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Kirkbride is shouting. “Now that dipshit is conning goddamn doctors into doing his pathetic job?”

Another much softer voice answers him, but Mulder can’t quite make out the words. He moves closer to the open door, bored enough to bother eavesdropping and seeing which of his colleagues is going to get their ass handed to them today.

“Yeah, I’m sure he is sick, that fucking lowlife. He’s sick every fucking week, it’s always something with him!”

“Sir, I don’t know what the history is between you and the courier,” answers the other voice, and it’s familiar in a way that makes him stop in his tracks, his stomach clutching in a mix of nervousness and excitement. “Can you direct me to Agent Kissop, please? Then I’ll be on my way and you can work it out with the courier service.”

It’s Scully. It’s her, he’s sure. He’s been dreaming of that voice for months, the soft sibilant S’s and the way her plush lips rest against her adorable overbite. Without thinking, he enters Kirkbride’s office and sees her standing in front of his desk with a file in her hand and an exasperated look on her face.

“Scully?” he asks, and she turns to him. Her hair is a bit longer, now just past her shoulders, and she’s wearing black slacks and a white blouse. She’s as beautiful as ever, maybe even more than he remembered. She doesn’t look all that surprised to see him. If anything, she looks relieved. Emotion boils up in his chest immediately and he feels his throat constrict.

“You know her?” Kirkbride asks, gesturing to Scully, and Mulder nods. “Great, then show her where Kissop sits so I can call the fucking courier service and tell them to fire that lazy asshat before I strangle him.”

Scully walks towards him and he turns wordlessly to show her out of Kirkbride’s office and down the hall to where Kissop sits. His heart is beating slowly but firmly, his pulse resounding in his ears. What is she doing here? Did she come here to see him? And if so, why? When they arrive at Kissop’s desk, Scully hands her the file and they exchange words that Mulder doesn’t bother to listen to. Then Scully looks at him hesitantly and slowly turns to walk away, towards the exit. He feels suspended, unsure if he can believe his own eyes that she is really here, and entirely conflicted over what to do about it if she is. He’s spent nine months trying to forget her, but she’s as real and alive as ever, standing before him. His self-protective instinct says to let her go, but his heart says to run after her.

“Quit standing here like a dumbass and go talk to her,” Kissop orders him, clearly picking up on some tension though she doesn’t have the faintest idea what’s causing it.

Shaken from his daze, Mulder follows Scully into the hallway.

“Scully,” he calls out, and she stops walking but doesn’t turn around. When he catches up to her, he touches her shoulder and she turns to face him with wet eyes.

They stand there for a moment, looking at one another, an expectant feeling hanging over them. He wants to touch her, to feel the press of her body against his again, but he doesn’t dare. That would seem like a relapse, of sorts.

“Would you have coffee with me?” she finally speaks, her voice small and unsure. It’s an invitation she is not at all confident he will accept.

“Okay,” he answers, and they walk out of the building side by side, silently.

They seem to understand without saying so that Mulder will lead them to where they ought to go, which is a little cafe called Burial Grounds just a block from the front doors of the Hoover Building. They stand in line stoically, tension crackling between them like static as they order something that will occupy their hands and give them a safe place to avert their eyes while they talk. They sit at a small table near the door and wait, glimpsing at each other’s faces and then away, summoning courage. Because this was at Scully’s invitation, it seems like she should have the floor.

“Ethan and I aren’t together anymore,” she finally blurts out, and his first instinct is to look at her hand, which is indeed bare of any jewelry. Next he looks at her face, considering her expression and whether she takes this to be good news or bad. She looks pained, but not about what she’s just said. She’s had this look on her face since he first spotted her in Kirkbride’s office. He’s unsure if he should be offering congratulations or condolences, and irritated that he’s being put in the position to figure it out, so he says nothing.

“I’m sure that I’m just about the last person you want to see,” she continues, her ocean irises tracing the logo printed on her cup. It wasn’t a question, but if it were he’d tell her that she’s the only person he wants to see, the only one he ever thinks about. The reason he can’t sleep and, when he does, the only thing he dreams about. “If it’s okay, there are some things I’d like to say to you. I understand if you don’t want to hear them.”

She flicks her eyes up to meet his for a moment and he nods softly, keeping his expression neutral. She returns her gaze to the skull and crossbones bearing the name of the coffee shop.

“I have always believed that life is about making the right choices. That we are presented with an ongoing series of options, opportunities and situations, and that we are tasked with determining the right choice that will put us on the path towards the best possible life. But as of late,” she pauses to take a sip of her coffee, stealing a glance at him before she continues, “I’ve come to believe that there is actually only one choice. One path we’re supposed to be on, and there are signs along the way to pay attention to. The choices might not always make sense at the time, but in the grand scheme of things, they are the ones you need to make in order to have the best possible life. Or the right life, the one you’re supposed to have.”

She pauses and slides her hand across the table, covering his with her own. The soft warmth of her skin electrifies him a little, sending a flush to his belly. She brings her eyes up to meet his, her brows knit with emotion as her chin gently puckers. She’s so beautiful it physically hurts.

“I ignored the signs,” she says tightly. “I made the wrong choice, Mulder. I thought I was doing the right thing, the best thing, but I was wrong. I’m so sorry that I hurt you.”

He feels his chest tighten, a telltale precursor to tears, and he looks away from her. Why is she doing this? To make herself feel better? She pulls her hand back and sniffs, then stands and slings her purse over her shoulder.

“Thank you for having coffee with me,” she says, and then he watches her leave. He sits there, staring at the pink lipstick that stains the rim of her cup, wishing she’d given him some more time to absorb it all. Wishing she’d never made the wrong choice.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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dana-sculy · 5 years

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Vive Ut Vivas - Chapter One

Okay, y’all. I’m not exactly writing material, but I gave it a shot and this was decent enough for me to post it (who am I kidding, it’s trash, sorry not sorry). You can find it in ao3 here.

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This is an alternate following to the episode One Breath. After Scully is released from hospital, she takes refugee in Melissa’s appartment and they go through the pain of what happened to her. I always thought Melissa deserved better than dying, so this explores her character and her relationship with Scully. She is also the leading factor to Mulder and Scully finally having a decent talk about their feelings, and whatever comes after that.

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Sometimes people are the last ones to see what’s right in from of them. Either from fear of the truth or from not believing it could quite be true. But these two are a case to be studied. I’d had a lot of men in my life, but God, they were no Fox Mulder.

I saw how he’d acted when Dana was dying, when hope was only a distant memory to him. I felt the darkness that emanated from him, and if my sister was trapped on a place between life and death, I bet this poor man was likely to be the thing holding her there.

So much to be said to each other. I know my sister more than her own shadow, and Dana was never the best at exposing her emotions to others, especially when they were deep.

“I knew there was a reason to live.” – She said, joking. It’s so good to see my sister smile, even if it’s still a week one. After all we’ve been through these last couple of days, it helps the tension in the room to dissipate a little.

He says his goodbye and touches her hand briefly, but it’s when their eyes meet that I have to hold my breath. There’s so much there: care, affection, hope. I suddenly feel like I’m intruding. It’s not exactly something private, some intimate demonstration of love, but their eye contact shares more than what’s there to be seen. It makes me feel like an outsider just to be around, like they were the only ones in the room and I just entered the wrong place at the wrong time. What was said between them is something I’ll probably never know, but I’m sure they do.

A minute passes by. I notice how Mulder looks nothing of what he looked before; his smile is warm, genuine now, and even Dana shares one or two when he’s around. That is certainly a meaningful exchange.

As soon as the door closes, her mother’s eyes meet hers. She’s noticed it too. If it bothers her, she doesn’t show. A mother always knows – Melissa can almost hear her say. They will save this conversation for later, though: right now Dana is alive and back from the dead, and that’s all that matters after all.

…

When I hear the phone ring, I immediately know it’s her. What surprises me is that my sister accepted my invitation to stay with me for the week, after being released from the hospital. You see, she has always had this terrible habit of closing herself after a moment of vulnerability, even if it was just me there, trying to help. I know it started because of our father, when her rebellious side decided she had something to prove to him, to prove her strong. When you grow up in a house of navy men, you learn to be tough. But I guess I dealt with it the light way and she chose the hard one.

Maybe that’s changing too. – I smile to myself. My apartment isn’t exactly as big and cozy as hers, but the two of us have always found comfort in each other’s company. Besides, it will give me just the opportunity I need to have a heart-to-heart conversation with Dana.

…

As I expected, she doesn’t let me pick her up at the hospital. I’ll let it pass this time, since I’m more than happy with her presence.

Half an hour has passed by when the doorbell finally rings and I hear the thud of her bags on the other side of the door. I rise from my spot on the couch and go open it for her.

“Mel, I don’t know if you made plans for today, but I can’t stay long. I have to present myself to the FBI as soon as possible so they can evaluate me and decide when I’ll be able to return to work again.” – As if to make her point clear, Dana does that eyebrow thing of hers that really annoys me.

“I know, I know. I’ll not step on your toes, sis, as long as you let me make plans for tomorrow. I missed you. It’s not gonna hurt if you spend some time away from Fox and everything to have some fun with your sister, right? – When the word “Fox” reaches her ears I’m sure she took the bait.

“You know, it’s not like that. We’re just partners. If there’s a reason for my eagerness to go back to work it’s just that I want at least a resemblance of my previous, normal life, that’s all.” – Yeah, right, sweetie. She truly believes that, poor thing.

“And the fact that he’s extremely attractive and obviously crazy about you does nothing to change that point of yours, Dana?” – Her eyes dart away from me for a second, and she tries her hardest to fight back a smile surging in the corners of her mouth. Even if she was successful at that, I know her way too much not to notice her signs: she likes him. She just probably doesn’t know it yet.

I remember when we still lived with mom, back when I was nineteen and she had just turned seventeen. At the time, she was into this guy named Paul, who was one of her friends. Whenever I mentioned him she would smile like a kid in a Christmas shop. Old Dana may hide her smile better, but it’s all the same.

“He’s not…crazy about me, Melissa. He trusts me, and we’re friends. Considering what happened to me, he’s happy to see me well again, and probably relieved too. He has this bad tendency to think everything is his fault.”

“Dana, I had boyfriends who cared less for me than he does for you. Mom had to drive him out of the hospital and take him to a restaurant to be sure he would even eat.” – she rolls her eyes at my comment, like she usually does when she wants to avoid talking about something.

“Look, I’m not trying to fight here. I just found you two… intriguing.” – I pose the devilish smile I can get. She can’t help but smile after that.

We stop talking about her partner as Dana guides herself through my place, looking around. She takes her time and then comes back to the couch, where I languidly rest while I wait for her little tour to end.

The floor of the apartment was an old-fashioned parquet with a blend of deep homely browns that contrasted with creamy-colored walls, on which lots of photographs were hanged: there were ones of me, Dana, mom and dad, my brothers and the closest of my friends.

On top of the fireplace, a delicate painting catches her attention – it was a landscape: the coastline jagged, covered by inlets where the water laid still. In the orange-kissed sky, the last vestiges of daylight contrasted with the growing black of cliffs, jagged and folded, shrinking into the distance.

Bursting through the large windows made of glass, she saw shafts of light streaming through the gaps in the linen curtains.

It’s the first time Dana comes to visit me here. It’s been a long time since I stayed in a place for more than one or two months, and after a while, she stopped coming to me and I started going to her place instead. It felt easier for us to spend time together.

When Dana’s finished, she sits next to me on the couch and rests her head on my shoulder. We stay this way for some time, in a quiet, yet comfortable silence. Her hair mingles with mine, leaving a delicious orange sent that probably came from her shampoo.

“Hmm.” – I hear her sigh on my side.

“Dana, can I ask you another thing? And please promise you’ll be honest with me.”

“Fine.” – She complies, defeated. I feel her tiny hand resting on mine, and we interlace our fingers.

“What made you come back? I mean, from the coma?” – I say barely above a whisper, choosing the words carefully.

She takes her time to answer, the thin lines of her forehead contorted in concentration. Finally, she speaks.

“I don’t know. At least, not with certitude.” – I release my breath, and when I’m about to disentangle with her, she holds me where I am. – “The truth is, I’m having a hard time figuring out what was part of my imagination and what was real. The things I’ve heard and seen during my state of coma, it’s all messed up, Mel. When I listened to Mulder’s voice calling me back, I…” – she sighs with frustration.

“Dana, please… don’t. Don’t close yourself now. I’m with you, and I believe that, if you decided to come here, at least some part of you wants me to help you heal.” – I take a strand of her beautiful hair and put it behind her ear, making her look at me. – “We’re sisters and I almost lost you. Please just let us be like we used to, we used to tell each other everything.” – When she meets my gaze, her eyes finally give in, and all the emotions she’s sinking down finally subside into quiet tears.

#txf #x files #the x files #msr #txf fanfic #dana scully #fox mulder #scully x mulder #my fanfics #foc #mine #todayinfic

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peacenik0 · 6 years

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How They Met

Rating: NSFW, but mildly so.

Words: 3,055/ MSR/ AU ( but could conceivably fit into cannon)

Prompt: A story/an au. Mulder and scully met at her fbi academy graduation party. They talked and flirted, and has a couple of drinks together. They had sex in the back patio of where the party was taking place. She writes down her number for him. He kisses her under a street lamp with his fingers on her clit. On his way home, he drops the slip of paper with her number. He kicks himself mentally for months. He could hardly remember her name, too. Until she walked through his office door.

May 1991

The party is in DuPont Circle, at some swanky hotel that Mulder doesn’t care to know the name of. He feels uncomfortable in the Tuxedo that Diana insisted that he wear. This is not his scene. He is not good at circulating, at talking to people. Diana drug him here, she wanted to support a friend of hers that was graduating. Things between them had been difficult ever since he found out about her transfer to Europe. He wonders if they can even last through that kind of long distance relationship. Diana is better at the social mechanics of a party. She flutters easily from group to group, dispensing her steely charm. Mulder both admires and resents this about her. He hangs just outside the double doors that lead into the ballroom, watching the scene, but not participating in it.

“Quite the wallflower, aren’t you?” a young female voice says.

“No, honestly, these kinds of parties aren’t really my thing,” he turns to face her. She smiles wide, and well, Mulder feels almost blinded. Truly awestruck.

“Funny, I used my extra sharp powers of deduction to figure that one out,” she says dryly with a raised eyebrow. There is an intelligent glint in her wide blue eyes. Mulder doesn’t know why, but he is immediately drawn to her. It could be her dry wit, but more likely it’s the the tight lacy black dress she is wearing. She’s slight, almost a full foot shorter than he is. Her hair is a deep shade of auburn, and pulled up in a twist, a few curls frame her face. She’s stunning, of course, but not his usual type.

”Personally, I always preferred a quiet drink to these kind of fancy swareys, anyway,“ she says smiling.

“Well, I suppose we are alike that way.’ Mulder glances over to see that the bar’s mostly empty now.

“Do you want to grab a drink?” He asks her.

“I suppose so,” she says with a smirk. They walk to the bar in lock-step, his tuxedo sleeve brushes against her arm. He doesn’t tell her about Diana.

They are a few drinks in. A tendril of hair slips out of her updo, he tucks it behind her ear, and she leans into his touch. He can’t deny the spark that crackles between them.

“You know that you are supposed to congratulate someone when they graduate, right?” the young woman says teasingly.

“I think I missed that lesson in finishing school,” he smirks towards her.

“Smart ass,” she pushes his arm playfully.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says leaning in towards her. He loses all sense of time and space when he looks into her eyes. His heart swells in a way that it never has for Diana, not even at the beginning of their relationship. Diana. Mulder realizes that she hasn’t even bothered to come looking for him.

“I think that you are also supposed to introduce yourself when you meet someone new,” she says dryly. At this point they have already talked about her stint in medical school, and how she was recruited by the FBI. He told her about his time at Oxford, and his work profiling. Names seemed almost perfunctory.

“Is that right?” he deadpans.

“But I have also deduced that you are hopelessly socially inept, so I suppose I can let it slide, but just this once,” Her eyes are shining, and she is right, he is hopeless.

“Fine,” he smirks. “I’m Mulder, uh, just Mulder,” he says emphasizing his last name.

“Well, Mulder, I’m Dana, it’s nice to meet you,” She reaches her hand out for a customary hand-shake. When he takes her hand, he feels chemistry and biology. He leans in closer to her, smelling a faint hint of her perfume, something clean, citrus. Their faces are close, and she dips her chin a bit, lingering close to his lips. He closes the distance between them, a stolen kiss. The second their lips touch he feels an electricity pulsing between them.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he whispers against her mouth.

After a few more drinks, they are drunk, and desperate for each other. They find a private patio a few floors up, where they can be alone. The door is locked, and he searches his pockets for an implement to open it with. Dana pulls a pin out of her hair, and hands it to him.

“Ah, resourceful, I like that in a woman,” he chuckles. As he drunkenly struggles to jimmy the hairpin in the lock, he hears her laughing.

“You look like you could use some help,” Dana giggles.

“Usually, I’m better at this,” Mulder says cursing his current lack of finesse.

“Well, I would certainly hope so.”

Finally the bolt turns and and the two of them stumble outside. It’s springtime, and D.C. is magical, white cherry blossoms flitter through the night air. They are several stories up, and he can see the Capitol Building all lit up. Dana is luminescent, otherworldly almost. The alcohol streaming through his blood, and the freshness of spring air heighten every touch between them. They kiss again, and again, and finally her tongue slides against his like velvet. Mulder drinks her in, the taste of alcohol on her tongue feeds his own intoxication. Dana breaks first.

“Uh, I’m not usually in the habit of kissing strange men that I just met,” the breeze teases the curls around her face.

“Me either,” he jokes, and kisses her again. As drunk as he is, there is not a thought of Diana, or his life with her. There is only Dana, and the way she feels in his arms. She presses against him tighter. It feels right. His fingers find her nipples through the lace of her dress, and she sighs into his mouth. Soon he has her smashed up against the gray stone in a dark corner of the patio.

She clumsily unbuttons his pants, reaches her hand down to grab his now burgeoning erection. He hisses at the feel of her small hand on his member, stroking up and down.

“Do you have a condom?” she asks.

“Uh, no, actually, I don’t, uh, usually do this kind of thing,” Mulder says a bit sheepishly.

“I suppose that we are alike that way,” Dana says the wind is gently blowing the hair from her face.

“But, there are other things we could do,” he waggles his eyebrows at her suggestively. Dana rolls her eyes at him.

“Well, just sweep me off my feet, why don’t ya?” she slurs. And despite her barb, he finds himself totally smitten.

Mulder sweeps his hand up her thigh, to find that she is wearing thigh-high panty-hose. This is a big turn on for him, and he wishes he could see them better. His fingers pull the elastic of her panties to the side, then they find her swollen sex.

“Like this?” he asks as his fingers swirl around her clit. Her hand is pumping him up and down, he thinks he might explode.

“Yes, like that,” she breathes out. As they kiss and caress each other, their sighs of pleasure dissolve into the night sky above them.

Mulder offers to walk her down to hail a cab, and Dana had hastily accepted. As they walk, he feels himself start to sober up. Mulder notices her struggling to keep up with his much longer strides.

“Short stuff,” he chuckles under his breath, but slows his pace so they can walk side by side.

“Well, being short has its advantages. A lower center of gravity, for instance.” Dana cracks a smile.

“Oh, really, and how is that helpful?” he deadpans.

“Well, I could take you down in a second,” she grins up at him.

“You will have to prove it.” Mulder challenges. He realizes that they have already fallen into an easy repartee. Mulder has always been attracted to intelligent women, but something about Dana is different. Her dry wit and her steely confidence are endlessly appealing to him.

“Well, this is not a good place for a demonstration,” she says looking at the concrete sidewalk. Mulder can see her brain work, calculating the risks. This intrigues him, as he has always leaped and then looked later. ”And I don’t want to irreparably injure you.”

“Well, seeing as we are both in the FBI now,” he stops walking and turns towards her. “Why don’t we meet up at the gym, and you can show me.”

“Perhaps, but I must warn you, I am a lot stronger than I look,” she puts her hands on her hips. Her auburn hair takes on a vermillion glow under the streetlamp.

“I’m sure of it.” He says softly. Then he pulls her closer to him, and she smiles up at him. Her smile is luminous, and cuts through the darkness like a beacon. He thinks he might follow that smile anywhere, even to the ends of the earth. He puts his hand on her cheek, and she leans into him. He feels drunk now, but for a completely different reason. He can’t help but kiss her again. And his heart swells as she kisses him back ardently. Her fervent desire matches his own, and it’s a beautiful thing to behold. Breaking the kiss Mulder looks into her eyes.

“Why don’t you come back to my place?” he asks tentatively. He thinks about making love to her properly. Then he remembers that his bedroom is in total disarray, files and magazines everywhere. When he’s not at Diana’s place he has been sleeping on his couch like a college frat boy. Maybe he should suggest a hotel, but that would imply that this is a one time thing. Mulder is pretty sure he doesn’t want this to be a one time thing. Dana looks down at her shiny black heels, and clears her throat.

“I, uh, have a confession to make…” a guilty expression flits over her face. “I have a boyfriend. “

“You’re not just trying to get out of a second date, are you? “ he chuckles, trying to make her smile.

“This was a first date?” she raises her right eyebrow at him. He shrugs his shoulders, and wonders where he could take a woman like this on a second date. Certainly not your normal dinner and a movie situation. “I do really have a boyfriend, I promise.” When he looks into her eyes, there is an honesty that astounds him. “Actually, we just had a fight before I came over here. He wants to get married, and have kids right away. But, I am just starting with the Bureau, and there is still so much I want to accomplish.” She pauses and picks at her fingernail. ”Maybe I’m just not quite ready to settle down.”

“I know it’s none of my business,” he pauses and takes her hand. “But you’ve worked really hard to get to this place in your career, and he should be more supportive of that.” He says earnestly. Dana’s eyes flash in surprise. “I don’t know, maybe he’s just not the right guy for you.” Maybe I am the right guy for you, he almost says, but doesn’t.

“Yeah, maybe,” she sighs.

“Well, since we’re being honest…” he pauses feeling the regret sinking into his stomach. “I should tell you that I have a girlfriend.” His heart thumps in his chest. Dana’s face is free of judgement, but full of understanding. “I just found out today that she’s going to Europe on assignment.” When he looks into her eyes, they are open, honest. “I don’t think she was even going to tell me. I just happened to find the paperwork on her desk. She requested the transfer,” he finishes, trying to conceal the hurt in his voice. Something about Dana makes him feel comfortable with honesty, with being vulnerable. She twines her fingers with his, and something about this simple act feels so intimate.

“I’m sorry,” she says with absolute sincerity. Mulder is touched.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen tonight,” he says gazing into her eyes, mediterranean blue under the streetlamp.

“I know,” her voice comes in a strained whisper. There is something between them, something different.

“Do you believe in fate?” He asks. Dana thinks for a moment before she answers.

“Logically, I would have to say no. I think that it’s our choices that make us who we are,” she says with certainty. Mulder thinks that he might love her already.

“Well then we believe the same thing,” he says softly. Her smile is one that could bring peace to the middle east, or stop the earth spinning on its axis. He is smitten.

“When can I see you again?” Mulder asks, heart on his sleeve. Dana reaches into her handbag, and produces a slip of paper and a pen.

“Turn around,” she instructs. Mulder complies easily because he has a feeling that he would do anything she asked. As she writes, he feels her strong looping strokes against his back.

“This is my number. Since we are both attached at the moment, I won't be offended if you don't call me,” she reaches up to kiss him again sweetly. “But, I hope you do.” She presses the slip of paper into his palm.

“I will,” he says softly, and he means it. He looks down at the name and number. When he looks up, he sees a taxi pulling up to the curb. Mulder grabs her elbow. “Weren't you going to say goodbye?” His voice is wistful.

“No,” she opens the taxi door. “I guess I have the feeling that we will see each other again.“

With that she slides into the cab, and she is gone. As he watches the taillights disappear around the corner, he feels a strange sense of hope for the future. Then there is the damp smell of rain, mixed with the dirt and grime of the city streets. Mulder looks down to see the first drops splatter on the paper, making the fresh ink run and bleed. Soon the letters and numbers are gone leaving only a blue-black ink-blot. The rain grows harder stinging him, and soaking him through to the skin. What once was hope; washes away to leave a bitter well of regret. And there is Mulder standing in the rain, alone, like always.

Before Diana leaves for Europe, she promises that she will call. She vows that she will visit if she gets the chance. In all honesty, Mulder is not quite happy, but not quite sad to see her go. Diana sends him a few postcards from England and France, then slowly all communication fades between them.

One day he finds the slip of paper from Dana. He wonders what she is up to, if she is still has that boyfriend. Mulder is an investigator, and he knows he could find her if he tried. But he is too invested in his work right now, maybe even obsessed. Besides, he has the feeling that he would only hurt her. That he would drive her away, like he does with everyone else. She is too perfect and too lovely in his memory. He should leave her there untouched. Mulder has the habit of maring everything he touches, she would break like glass in between his fingers.

Months pass. One day he gets a memo; a new agent will be assigned to the X-Files. Some poor sap will be forced to share this tiny basement office with him. He already hates his new partner. He imagines some straightlaced balding doofus, who will certainly annoy him. Mulder crumples up the paper and tosses it in the wastebasket.

One day he sets up a meeting with Skinner to tell him not to bother with this whole partner thing.

“You need someone, Agent Mulder,“ Skinner says with a tight jaw.

“I don’t need a partner,” Mulder says petulantly. “I work best alone.” Skinner takes off his glasses and looks him in the eye.

“There is nothing I can do about this anyway. This order came straight down from the top,” He whispers harshly. “Besides, you should know, that none of us get there alone.” Mulder leaves the office in a huff, slamming the door behind him. His anger masking what can only be hurt on the inside.

He does his research on his new partner. He scoffs when he finds out that his new partner re-wrote Einstein for his senior thesis. This man Dana Scully must be a real cocky son of a bitch. Mulder reads it, and is surprised to find it rather intriguing. But he still doesn’t want him as a partner. Maybe agent Scully will meet him, and immediately request a transfer. Afterall, he’s spooky Mulder, right? He feels bitterness enveloping him, when he hears a knock on the door.

“Sorry, nobody down here but the FBI’s most unwanted,” a joke that masks the truth. Then the door opens, and he sees her. His heart flops into his stomach. Mulder doesn’t know why he never considered the possibility that she would be his new partner. The last he knew she was about to start teaching at Quantico. He is struck. But she is all professionalism and nervous confidence. Pinning him with her intelligent blue eyes, she holds out her hand.

“Agent Mulder, I’m Dana Scully, I’ve been assigned to work with you,”

----

Authors note: It’s my AU, so Mulder is not color-blind. To be honest, I’m pretty sure Mulder was only color-blind in one episode, and it was never mentioned again anyway. Especially if you remember “Bad blood” where he does mention that Scully has red hair. In my story he can see all the colors. This was from the 5 head cannons prompt a while back. I wanted to revise and re-post since I like the way the story turned out. It could be the start of something new.

Tagging friends: @i-gaze-at-scully, @serahsanguine, @fbismostunwanted1158, @spookydarlablack, @msraddicted, @today-in-fic, @baronessblixen, @xfilesobsession, @frangipanidownunder, @txf-fic-chicks, @darwin-xf, @i-dont-wanna-wrestle, @defnotmeyo

#how they met #an au story #msr #msr fanfic #the x-files fanfic #a revision #no beta

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thewnchstrs · 6 years

Text

Exorcist?

*not my gif

Pairing: teen!DeanXteen!reader

Disclaimers: little bit of cursing

Word Count: 1,379

A/N: I made Dean and the reader teenagers- hope that’s okay!

Masterlist

Part Two

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“No this is perfect!” Y/N laughed, holding up a pair of black pants. She’d been begging him to go to prom with her- especially since his dad said they’d be in town for another few weeks for work, something Y/N really hadn’t given a second thought to.

Dean shook his head, a smile tugging on the corner of his lips. “You want me to wear that?”

“Oh, c’mon. It’s not...that bad!” Y/N said, as she admired the pants at a distance. “Now we just need to find you a nice shirt.”

Dean sighed, running a hand down his face. He’d never really planned on actually going through with the whole prom plan, but after he’d seen how happy it made Y/N, he couldn’t say no. “I’m getting another beer, you want one?”

“Yes please,” Y/N smiled up at him from the floor, relishing in the fact that Dean’s dad wouldn’t be home for at least another two hours. She’d never met him, but Dean said he could be kind of a hard ass, and he probably wouldn’t like the fact that they were drinking all of his beer. Or drinking at all, for that matter.

As Dean left the room, Y/N continued to pull things from the closet, inspecting each shirt before shaking her head and hanging it back up where she’d gotten it. When she thought she ran out of material to work with, she’d noticed the pile of, undoubtedly dirty, clothes at the bottom of the closet, too. “Seriously, Dean?” She called to her boyfriend as she picked through it, “Do you know what a hamper is?”

As she began to pick through it, the pile seemed to be much smaller than she’d originally thought, mainly because what kept the form of the pile was actually a large case.

Y/N frowned, unsure of what to make of it. It was heavy and metal, a strange thing to stumble upon in someone's closet. She tried the latches on either side, and sure enough, it was unlocked.

I shouldn’t be doing this. Y/N thought to herself, but pushed the thoughts out of her mind as she pushed the lid open, an arsenal of guns, gun powder, salt, bullets, knives and various other weaponry tucked safely inside.

“Did you find anything I’d look good in-” Dean began before he stepped into the room, two uncapped beers in one hand. His eyes darted between the open case and Y/N who sat shell shocked in front of it. He slowly sat the beers on his bedside table before slowly walking toward her, “Y/N, you shouldn’t have opened that-”

Y/N’s heart began to race, uncertainty creeping in as he began to become nearer and nearer. Who was Dean Winchester? “Dean...why do you have all of this, this stuff?”

Dean sighed, his heart breaking at how frightened she looked. How would he explain this? That he was just exercising his second amendment right to bear arms? It may work for the guns but the salt, handcuffs, and holy water? No way in hell.

He watched Y/N with sad eyes, watching the one part of normality in his life beginning to quickly fade.

“I can explain-”

“Well please do!” Y/N nearly shouted, the case far from her now.

Dean sighed again before sitting on the floor next to her, trying not to show his hurt when she backed away from him slightly. His eyes raked over the weapons, wishing he'd had put a lock on the damn case.

“It’s for my job.” He said simply, knowing that would just bring up more questions. Y/N raised her eyebrows at this.

“Are you an exorcist?” She joked, but her heart still pounded in her chest. Dean thought about it, she wasn’t completely wrong. “Oh God, please tell me you’re not an exorcist.“

Dean bit his lip before moving to hold Y/N’s hands in his. At first she hesitated before quickly falling into the familiar action. He ran his thumb over her knuckles, carefully thinking through what he would tell her. He knew he couldn’t lie to her any more than he already had. She was too smart for that.

“My family, well, my dad really...he- God, you’re going to think I’m insane-”

“Dean,” Y/N said, shaking her head, making Dean look at her now. “Please.”

Dean bit his lip before continuing, “My dad, he- he kills monsters for a living. Like, like ghosts. And vampires, and demons. They’re real. All of it is real. And that’s what we do. We kill the things that most people think are just imaginary.”

Y/N suppressed a laugh, biting the inside of her cheeks. “You mean to tell me,” she began, “that your dad is like a ghostbuster or something? Who is he? Mulder from X-Files?-”

“Y/N, I’m serious.” He said, staring intently into her eyes as they switched from playful to confusion and to disbelief.

“Dean, I love you, but you’re crazy.” She began to stand from her spot on the floor, picking her jacket off of Dean’s bed. “I need to go-”

“No, Y/N, please, let me just show you-” Dean said, desperately trying to get her to stay. He grabbed her wrist before she could get too far.

She whipped around, her ponytail flying into her face and yanking her arm out of Dean’s grip. “Show me? Show me what, a friggin’ video of your dad blasting a demon full of, of, silver bullets?”

“Actually you use those on werewolves-”

Y/N watched him with wide eyes, “Werewolves?” she squealed, turning on her heels. “I’m out of here.”

“Wait wait wait,” He said again, making Y/N close her eyes in frustration as she clenched her jaw, her forehead wrinkling in anger, trying not to blow a gasket. She opened her eyes again to Dean’s, those stupid, green eyes she got lost in the first time she’d met him. “I do have proof that I’m not crazy, alright?”

Y/N seriously considered leaving right then. She didn‘t have time for this, no matter how beautiful Dean Winchester’s eyes were. However, half of her was extremely intrigued.

She threw her jacket back onto the bed, her hands on her hips. “Fine. But if some crazy ghost follows me home, I’m blaming you.”

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Y/N sat, speechless after nearly reading through John’s entire journal. Beginning at the start where John talks about Dean’s mom, all the way to just last week when he was on a hunt for a banshee.

Dean watched her carefully as she slowly sat back against the dining room chair, her eyes had a far off look as she contemplated whether to believe it all or not.

“So, let me get this straight,” she began, clasping her hands on the table in front of her. “It’s all real? Ghosts, demons, werewolves, angels...they’re all real?”

“Well, we haven’t exactly run into an angel yet, but...yeah.” Dean nodded. “It’s all real.”

“And- and you, and your dad, and Sam you...you guys, hunt these things?”

He nodded, still watching her. Y/N’s eyes fluttered closed momentarily before slowly opening them again, stealing a glance at Dean. “That’s some crazy shit, Winchester.”

“I know, trust me. That’s why we move around all the time- the supernatural doesn’t exactly stay in one place.”

Y/N swallowed roughly, having trouble biting down this new information that she’d been oblivious to for so long. “I’m scared, Dean.”

Dean quickly moved in closer to her, holding on to her clasped hands, “Y/N, there’s nothing to be scared of as long as I’m around, okay? I won’t let any of those sons of bitches get to you. Or your family for that matter.”

Y/N shook her head, “I’m not worried about me...I’m worried about you. What you guys do,” Y/N wasn’t sure exactly how to convey what she was feeling. It was scary and mind boggling and slightly unnerving all at the same time. “It’s dangerous. You could die-”

“I’m not going to die,” Dean said, shaking his head, using his hand to lift Y/N’s face towards his. Hating that he’d loaded all of this onto her, “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

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Forever Tag List

Dean Tag List

@winchesterdemon67

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pjstafford · 4 years

Text

Terms of Endearment

For @catherineGlins2 prompt

Part One

(Pre-Arcadia).

“You called me Foxy, Scully.”

Scully is exasperated at Mulder. He is sulking. She knows this mood well. Not talking, slamming doors, nodding or grunting when she says something to him., but this is a new chapter in their relationship-this sexual relationship and staying at each other’s place. She woke this morning at his place thinking the previous night’s activities warranted spooning and lingering in bed, but Mulder was awake, showered and sulked through coffee. He sulked all day in the office. They are back at her place tonight. After hours of teasing and badgering, he finally tells her what is bothering him. In the moment of climax she called out Foxy.

“You called me Dana and you know I was excited.”

“ I didn’t call you Dani or Dan or Danika, I called you by your name, Dana.”

“But it’s a nick name is all. If you don’t like it I don’t have to call you that. “

“I don’t like nicknames. I mean, dear, honey, babe are fine, but those special names people call each other. It’s ridiculous- especially after they get older, you know. I mean are we going to be that kind of couple.”

Scully is exasperated at Mulder. “ I don’t know Mulder. Are we even a couple? Is it absolutely horrible to have some kind of normal couple thing like- you know, nick names.”

Mulder shakes his head. “ I’m afraid I will just disappoint you, Scully because you want the house in suburbia and cute little nicknames and that isn’t me.” He picks up his jacket and slams out of the apartment.

It’s their first fight, Scully thinks. At least the first fight since they became...whatever they are, boyfriend and girlfriend? All because she called him Foxy as he was rocking her evening.

Part 2 Post Arcadia

“Do you really think that I want to play house, Mulder?”

Since returning from the case, the two agents had barely spoke. Now they are in Mulder’s apartment for the first time since she called him Foxy.

“I think you wish I was more traditional.”

“I’m not going to try and change you, Mulder.”

“You have changed me, Scully, in the best possible ways, but now, we are a couple,” Mulder grabs Scully’s hands “ I don’t know what you want. Do you want flowers or to watch chick flicks or silly nicknames. If I don’t how to do those things will you leave me?”

Scully reaches one hand up to run it through his hair. “ I think it’s about compromise. I understand we won’t have a traditional relationship, but a nickname that’s just our name for one another. We should be able to do that.” Scully runs her fingers over his lips.

“Ok,”Mulder sighs. He agrees but wants her to know he is unhappy. They go to his couch to sit. “I am going to call you...” he searches for something she will hate “sugarboobs.”

Scully laughs. “Why?”

“You called me “poopy head”. “.

“I was angry at you. You really want to call me sugar boobs.”

“Well, your boobs are awfully sweet, Scully.”

Scully shrugs. “ Ok, but not where anyone would hear.”

Mulder looks surprise. “Really?”

Scully smiles broadly. “ If you say it with affection and I know it’s your special name for me, I will always look forward to hearing it, but you could say it deeper and in a growl.”

“Sugarboobs” Mulder growls in a baritone before kissing Scully deeply.

After a few minutes of heavy kissing Scully moans “Oh, oh...Bob”

“What?” Mulder stops kissing Scully. “Did you forget who you were kissing?”

Scully smiles that broad smile again. “ No, I want to call you Bob because of your penis.”

“What?”

“Your penis always seems to be dancing, bobbing up and down and side to side. I mean, even when your just hanging, walking to the kitchen to get water or something, it’s like it’s always trying to come half alive. I guess it’s because it’s both long and kind of fat you know. It’s just bobbing...Bob.”

“ All this talk about my penis, Scully, kind of have me self conscious. You really want to yell out Bob at the moment of climax.”

“Yes...or Fox...but not Foxy.”

“Ok, let’s try it.” Mulder makes his voice as a deep a growl as he could manage. “ Sugarboobs.”

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