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silhouetteofacedar · 3 years

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Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 20: Nattduksbord

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

This means something; Mulder can feel it.

This signifies a shift in their relationship; a step forward, from platonic partners to a romantic couple. It’s a shared experience that has the potential to change their dynamic forever. Years of trust, fighting together against a common enemy, seeking the truth… it could all come crashing down today, in a shopping mall in Woodbridge, Virginia.

They’re going to IKEA.

Summer is on the rise, and the humidity is close to stifling as they buckle into his car. Scully’s wearing a little striped t-shirt, capri pants, and sandals, revealing sky blue painted toes. For a disorienting moment Mulder wonders if he’s going to develop a foot fetish. Probably not, but Dana Scully could make even the most vanilla of men want to do crazy things.

“Do you have your shopping list?” Scully asks as he starts the car.

He pulls the folded scrap of paper out of the chest pocket of his white t-shirt. “Right here,” he replies, eyes darting over to her for one more look as he holds out the list.

She takes it, catching his eyes momentarily. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she asks.

I want to suck your toes. “You look nice today, that’s all.”

“Oh. Well, thank you.”

Scully can probably tell he’s desperate for her; she can read him like a dog-eared, yellowed paperback. He’s simultaneously grateful for her sharp instincts and embarrassed by his carnal desires. He hasn’t gotten laid in four years, and he fears he’ll be too eager when the time comes. As it is, he can barely believe she’s let him have even the smallest glimpses of her as a sexual being. She’s intoxicating, and he’s dizzy with the knowledge that this beautiful, brilliant, downright edible woman actually wants him. Him, a mortal man of aliens and bad ties and a porn collection that’s gradually becoming least seventy-five percent redheads. A man without a bed.

Hence their Saturday morning pilgrimage to the shrine where all new couples journey to find furnishings, low prices, and themselves.

“So, we’re looking for one tall bookshelf, a locking filing cabinet, a bed, and two night tables,” Scully reads. She refolds the paper and reaches across him to tuck it back into his shirt pocket. “That’s clearly not all going to fit in this car,” she notes.

“I’ll get the bigger stuff delivered,” he says.

It’s only a twenty minute drive from Mulder’s place, and they have the air-conditioning on. Mulder is starting to relax; it’s been a long time since he’s had a partner, in the domestic sense, and he’d forgotten that it makes the mundane more bearable.

Scully clears her throat almost imperceptibly. “I’m proud of you, by the way.”

“Really? Why?” Mulder asks.

“You managed to get rid of a lot of stuff,” she says, turning up the dial on the car’s air conditioner. “And organization is very clearly not your strong suit, so progress should be acknowledged and celebrated.”

“Yippee,” Mulder deadpans.

“You know, it’s odd; we’ve known each other for all these years and I never asked… why don’t you have a bed, Mulder?”

There it is, the question he knew would come up at some point. He clears his throat, grips the steering wheel a little tighter. “I, uh… I lived with someone, around ‘91. Another agent, actually. We were together for a while, and then one day she took some assignment in Europe and that was that. I got rid of everything that was hers, and that, uh, included the bed.” Technically our bed, he thinks. He winces. He’s never talked to Scully about Diana before, and he wonders if she’ll be upset that he was withholding such a large piece of personal information.

Scully is quiet. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. “That’s… I didn’t know.”

“I’m sorry I never mentioned it,” Mulder says. “It’s not like it’s some big painful secret. I just… don’t really think about her anymore.”

“It’s alright,” Scully says. “I think it’s best for these kinds of things to come up naturally. And… I was dating someone when we met,” Scully confesses. “We broke up as soon as I got back from Bellefleur.”

Mulder looks at her quickly. “Really? Why?”

She furrows her brow. “Multiple reasons, but primarily I realized that this job, my assignment, was bigger than I’d anticipated. And the things you and I went through together, the things I’d seen… when I was honest with myself, I didn’t want to be tied down to him. To have to go home and have this man ask me how my day was, as though he could ever understand even half of what we do.”

“So you chose the job over him,” Mulder muses.

“In essence… I chose you,” Scully points out. “Whether I knew it then or not. I’d never be able to turn my back on you.”

Mulder exhales slowly. He’s strangely moved.

“Take a left at the next light,” Scully prompts softly. “And yes, I do realize the irony in breaking things off with a man because of his normalcy, only to continue trying to date so-called ‘normal’ men.”

Mulder shrugs. “No, it makes sense. Maybe he just wasn’t right for you, but the next normal guy could be, right?”

“Right,” Scully sighs. “Einstein’s definition of insanity. Doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results.”

“I’ve been led to believe that being with me is another type of insanity,” Mulder points out. “And objectively, I can’t disagree.”

“You do make me crazy,” Scully agrees, voice low. “But that’s not always a bad thing.” He feels her small hand squeeze his thigh. “And I fully intend to return the favor.”

Mulder lets out a quiet groan, hands sweaty on the steering wheel. “You planning on giving me some roadside assistance, Agent Scully? Because I’m gonna need it if you keep doing that.”

She removes her hand, tucks her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t do anything,” she says innocently.

“Uh huh.” He pulls into the IKEA parking lot. “Well, we’re here. You ready?”

“As ready as a person can be for a labyrinthian furniture store on a muggy Saturday,” she replies.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Mulder says from his spot on the bedroom floor, surrounded by scattered pieces of a ‘HOLLEBY’ bedside table. “These instructions are useless and-” he flips through the booklet, “-thirty-two pages long, Jesus.”

Scully doesn’t respond; her eyes are glued to her own manual as she assembles a drawer from the second of the two nightstands. “Shh,” she hushes him softly. “I’m concentrating.”

“How have you managed to put any of these pieces together?” he asks, scooting across the floor to her. “There aren’t even words, just vague illustrations.”

She has a screw between her lips as she lines up two of the wood pieces. “I took wood shop in high school,” she says around the metal pin. She removes it and inserts it into a pre-drilled hole. “I guess that was some kind of preparation for assembling flatpack furniture?”

“That’s adorable,” Mulder says, rising to open a window. The room is stuffy with the day’s heat, and his t-shirt is glued to his back. “Do you still have any of the things you made in class?”

“The step stool in my kitchen,” she replies. “And my mom might have some things I’ve forgotten about.”

He casually strips off his sweaty t-shirt and tosses it in the laundry basket. “Remind me to look at that stool the next time we’re at your place,” he says. “Also I’m gonna order a pizza, you interested?”

Scully looks up at him then and is seemingly surprised by the absence of his shirt. “It’s hot in here,” Mulder explains, almost defensive.

“Oh, I’m not complaining,” Scully says, eyes shamelessly traveling his torso. “And I’m always interested.”

“Are we still talking about pizza here, or…”

“Make my half one with everything, please,” she says, attention returning to her project.

“Wait a minute,” he says, dropping to his knees next to her on the carpet. “I’m not done here.” He leans in and presses his mouth to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, tasting the salt on her skin. How she can still smell so good on a sticky June day, he doesn’t know; but he wants to lick her entire body.

“Mulder,” she sighs, putting down her screwdriver, “You’re distracting me.”

“That’s the idea,” he says, lips wandering up her neck and behind her ear. He flicks his tongue against her earlobe. “Forget the furniture, honey,” he says, all hot breath and lust. “We don’t need it for what I have in mind.”

Suddenly she’s facing him, looping her arms around his neck. “I’m doing this for you,” she purrs. “Do you think I like putting together IKEA furniture? No one likes it, Mulder. It’s like a multidimensional jigsaw puzzle.”

He pulls her onto his lap. “Oh, but I think you do,” he says, nibbling her ear. “You like being capable Doctor Scully, in charge of things… showing me what those hands can do.”

She leans in, licking his full lower lip. “Not everything is about you, Mulder,” she says, pressing a scorching kiss to his mouth. “I’m just doing my coworker a favor.”

“Is that what they call this nowadays?” he asks, hands clasping her hips as she grinds down on his lap.

She shuts him up with a kiss, the furniture and pizza forgotten.

#god this took me FOREVER #lol I’m busy freaking out over my second covid shot okay don’t @ me #my fic #fmcr #xfiles #txf fic #fox mulder closet romantic #msr #they go to ikea

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thegreatestofheck · 4 years

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By Dawn ☼ John B ☼

(credit for the gif to rudypankow! thank you for the gif!)

Word Count - 1717 Warnings - underage drinking, swearing, smoking Synopsis - John B meets a mysterious girl at his court ordered group therapy. After spending weeks trying to get to know her, he slowly realizes that she’s a tough nut to crack. But then one day, she leaves him a cryptic message...the night before she goes missing. With the disappearance of his father still so raw in his mind, John B refuses to lose anyone else. And he will stop at nothing until he finds her. A/N - This is a new fic that I thought of the other day. I kind of thought of it based on that one tik tok sound that goes “one last pic and i’ll be gone, make it count put the flash on, never really felt like i’ve belonged, so i’ll be on my way, and i won’t be long. i’ll be dead by dawn.” So, I thought of this. This chapter is a little short just because I’m getting a feel for it and just to see if people are interested. I hope y’all like it! (also me finally not writing a JJ fic? g r o w t h).

“Dude!” JJ laughed, squeezing his eyes together as he leaned back in his chair. “You’re going to therapy?”

“JJ, shut up, will you?” Pope smacked his blond friend on the shoulder while John B plucked his beer off the ground.

“It’s not like I have much of a choice,” John B said with a sigh before taking a long swig of beer. “Peterkin said I have to or she won’t help me with DCS.”

“And you’re going to do it?” Kie was the only one who actually seemed concerned about him. She always had been.

“I don’t really have much of a choice, do I?” John B, looking out over the water. Losing his dad had been hard enough. But with the DCS and the police department breathing down his neck, everything seemed a hundred times harder. He had hoped that, with school done for the year, he would have the summer to enjoy life and drink beer and smoke weed with his friends, but apparently, the grown-ups had different plans.

JJ didn’t stop laughing, putting a blunt between his lips and letting out a large puff of smoke.

“When do you start?” Pope asked. John B picked a rock off the ground.

“Tomorrow,” he said, throwing the rock back into the dirt.

“Well,” Kie said with a smile. She leaned forward and put a hand on John B’s shoulder, which earned him a look from JJ. “I’m sure that it will be really good for you.”

“‘I’m sure that’s going to be so good for you, John B,’” JJ mocked, raising his voice an octave. “’I’d be so good for you, John B-’”

JJ couldn’t finish making fun of her because Kie threw her blanket at his head. That started a dirt-ball fight between the two. John B didn’t pay much attention, even as small pieces of dirt fell on his head.

Pope sat back, head in his hands as JJ ran forward and lifted Kie into the air. John B downed the rest of his beer, not really caring about the fight between JJ and Kie.

“It’s gonna be fine, you know?” Pope said finally. John B looked up. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

***

John B walked into the room, his hoodie on and hands shoved in his pockets.

“John Routledge.” He looked up at the sound of the woman’s voice. She sat in a small plastic chair in a circle of small plastic chairs. There was only one that wasn’t full. “Welcome.”

He didn’t even try to force a smile as he walked over to the one empty chair. On one side of him was a boy in a beanie, a boy he recognized from high school. Denis, or something. But on the other side was a girl. A girl that John B had never seen before.

She sat almost perfectly straight, hands folded in her lap. Her dark hair curled naturally in tight ringlets, framing her face. She glanced over at him, her deep brown eyes full of light. John B didn’t realize he was staring until the woman spoke again.

“I would prefer it if you removed your hoodie, John,” the woman in the suit said. John B turned toward her, flipping his hoodie down. “My name is Allison Preacher. I am in charge of this group. Everyone, this is John Routledge.”

A chorus of ‘hello’s filled the room. John B barely managed a wave, glancing over at the girl again. She mouthed a small ‘hi’.

“Would you like to introduce yourself?” Allison said with a smile.

“You seemed to do it well enough,” he replied, turning to look at her. There were a few chuckles from the others, but Allison’s smile never wavered. She probably got shit from all kinds of kids all the time. She seemed completely unphased.

“I want you to know, before we begin, that we are all here for you. You don’t have to be afraid to be honest with us,” Allison said. John B only nodded.

He sat and listened to her talk, listened to the others talk, but said nothing for two hours. The girl beside him didn’t say anything either. She just watched, tears in her eyes at the stories that the people told.

When Allison Preacher finally said that the meeting was over, John B couldn’t be more relieved. He thought he would be the first to stand and leave, but to his surprise, it was the girl who got up first.

John B watched her leave, eyebrows pinched together as she nearly ran from the small room.

“She’s been coming for months,” Allison said from behind John B, startling him. He turned to face her. “Never says a word. I don’t even know her name. But she comes without fail.”

John B turned back around to watch the exit the girl had just disappeared through.

“Thanks,” John B said before leaving just in the same way he had come.

***

“What was it like?” Kie asked that night, passing John B a blunt. He took it with a sigh.

“Bunch of fucked up kids talking about their fucked up lives,” John B said before taking a long drag.

“That’s prime ground, my man,” JJ said, sunglasses covering his eyes.

“For what, exactly?” Kie turned toward JJ with a scowl on her face and arms crossed. JJ smiled at her, poking his tongue against his cheek.

John B wasn’t sure why, but the girl was plaguing his mind. He couldn’t forget her eyes or the way she ran as soon as the meeting had ended.

“Dude, are you good?” Pope asked, tapping John B’s shoulder with his fist.

“Hmm?”

“Are you good?” Pope asked again. John B nodded his head slowly, letting a deep breath of smoke out of his mouth. JJ snagged the blunt from John B’s hand.

“So, any hot chicks at this therapy group?” JJ asked, the blunt hanging between his lips. John B shrugged.

“One or two.”

“Maybe I should check myself into therapy group,” JJ said, slapping Pope on his back, still grinning. John B imagined what would happen if JJ came and met the girl with the brown eyes. He scowled at the ground when he thought of JJ talking to her, wooing her like he did all the other girls. It never bothered John B before, but for some reason, that thought bothered him now.

“So, do you have to go every Thursday?” Kie turned her glare away from JJ, eyes softening when she looked at John B. He nodded slowly.

“Every Thursday,” John B confirmed with a sigh. “Yippee.”

However bad it seemed to go before, now John B was almost eager to go back so that he could talk to the girl, maybe ask her name.

The week crawled by, every day feeling like a month in itself. The summer was supposed to be fun and exciting, with no expectations and no plans, but all John B could think about was seeing that girl again, even if it meant sitting in a room with other people for two hours.

So, when Thursday night came again, John B got there early. He waited outside, ignoring everybody else who came in. A few of them smiled or waved at him, but he kept his head down, only glancing up when he heard a car door slam shut.

Finally, when he looked up and saw the girl again, a smile spread across his face. He walked right up to her, startling her slightly, but then she smiled.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” she replied. For a few moments, John B just stared at her, soaking in her eyes, her hair, her face, her smile. He shook his head, trying to force himself to act like a regular human being.

“I’m John B,” he said offering his hand.

“John B?” She kept her hands in her pockets. “What’s the B stand for?”

“Booker,” he told her without an ounce of hesitation as he dropped his hand back to his side. The girl’s smile widened.

“Can I call you Booker, then?”

John B nodded his head.

“Sure, yeah.”

After spending a week thinking about nothing but her, John B wasn’t sure why he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. If he was JJ, he would be able to make her laugh and somehow manage to end the night with her in his bed, but John B wasn’t sure if that was what he wanted. He just wanted to know her, to figure her out.

“Well, group’s about to start. We should go inside,” the girl said, smiling wider at John B’s awkwardness.

“Oh, right, yeah.” He watched her walk past him toward the double doors, realizing that she still hadn’t really introduced herself. “Wait! Can I get a name?”

The girl stopped where she was, turning back around slowly. She seemed to think for a moment, a look in her eyes deciding whether or not it was safe to trust him. He prayed that she decided in his favor.

“I’m Gwen,” she told him finally, rolling onto her toes before dropping back down to her heels.

“Gwen.” He said her name, a smile tugging at the edges of his lips. “It’s nice to meet you, Gwen.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Booker. But we really need to go inside if we don’t want to miss the meeting.”

“Right! Yes, the meeting.”

He walked beside her as the two entered the building. Allison had yet to start talking as the two of them took their seats. John B tried to listen to what she said, tried to pretend to pay attention to the others as they spoke, but all he could do was replay her name over and over and over again in his head.

Gwen.

But no last name. Nothing else. She hadn’t even given her name to him until he asked and even then she was hesitant. There was something about her that intrigued John B. Like a puzzle box that he just needed to figure out.

Just like the week before, as soon as the meeting had ended, Gwen was gone from the room. John B didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye. Like smoke in the wind, she was just...gone.

#john b routledge #john b obx #john b fic #outer banks #obx #outer banks fic #jj maybank angst #jj obx #kiara carrera #kie obx #pope heyward #pope obx

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