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cecilysass · 28 days

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Shine On (4/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 4: The Art of Profiling

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 20, 2015

The pizza that Fox Mulder ordered isn’t from a pizza place Jackson has ever heard of, like Domino’s or Pizza Hut, but it’s really good anyway. Or at least it tastes good to someone who hasn’t eaten all day. Jackson eats the first piece really quickly, then he grabs for a second without thinking, forgetting his manners. When he realizes what he’s done, he hesitates.

“Go for it,” the older man says, his eyes darting sharply back and forth between the pizza and Jackson’s face. “Eat as much as you want.”

Fox Mulder has been acting much more intense ever since Jackson told him about the red-headed lady.

Jackson’s tired, and he has only barely skimmed the surface of the man’s difficult mind, but he can tell that the guy’s stunned by the news. Fox Mulder’s mind is channeling down a dozen different paths right now: fast, mazelike thoughts, like bobsleds going down tracks. A current of sharp worry running through like a winter chill.

It’s honestly exhausting to try to figure out. Jackson closes off the shine for now, takes another big bite of pizza. This sausage is a little spicy, which is exactly how he likes it.

“I have a lot of questions for you,” Fox Mulder says, his voice low. “I don’t want to overwhelm you. But I … gotta ask some of them.”

Jackson nods reluctantly, his mouth full. He doesn’t feel like answering questions at all. Still, he supposes the more he gets out of the way, the better.

“You said you have visions,” the man says, setting his own piece of pizza down. “Do you have other … abilities?”

Jackson studies him cautiously as he finishes chewing his bite of pizza. He’s not in the habit of discussing what he can do. It’s only really ever been trouble when he has, so he’s almost instinctively secretive about it. But things are different now. And Fox Mulder, well, he seems to know all about this kind of thing.

“Yeah,” Jackson says carefully. “I do.”

The man runs his hand over his mouth. Jackson notices he’s only eaten half of his slice of pizza. Either he’s not hungry, or he’s too distracted.

“You can read thoughts,” Fox Mulder guesses, leaning back, speaking with certainty. He folds his hands in front of him. “You can focus on other people’s thoughts. Not just one person, but several at once.”

Jackson sets his slice of pizza down in shock. “How did you know that?”

“You can move objects, too.”

Jackson blinks at him. “I have been able to do that. Some. I could do it easier when I was little.”

“What else?”

“I can, like, change people’s perceptions. What they see. Not for forever, just for a little while. So, if I, like, need a distraction in class or something, I can make the teacher think someone opened the door and mooned us. Stupid stuff like that.”

Fox Mulder looks undeniably fascinated. “Wow,” he says. “Interesting.” He taps his fingers on the table. Jackson doesn’t have to use his shine to see that the man is thinking this over. “So does that mean you could effectively shapeshift? If you wanted to?”

“Yeah,” admits Jackson. “At least I can make other people think I look like someone else.”

“Huh,” the man says, squinting thoughtfully. He tilts his head, looking at Jackson again. “Are you reading my mind right now?”

“No,” Jackson says honestly.

“Why not?”

“I’m tired,” Jackson says. “It’s work, sometimes. And no offense, but you’re kind of complicated and hard.”

Fox Mulder chuckles. “I don’t know if I should take offense at that or not.”

“I did read your mind earlier,” Jackson confesses. “And the red-haired lady …. she was really easy. I hardly had to try with her at all. It was like her thoughts just flew at me. I was wondering if that was because she was my birth mom. Do you think that could be right?”

The man stares at him blankly, not directly answering. “Her name is Dana Scully.”

“Dana Scully,” repeats Jackson.

“Have you ever heard that name before?”

“No,” Jackson says. “I don’t think so.”

“Did your parents tell you anything about your birth parents? Who they were, where you were from?”

“I don’t think they knew anything about them,” Jackson says. “It was a closed adoption.”

Fox Mulder nods, scratching his chin. “Yeah,” he says. It’s like a cloud of sadness has fallen over him. “Yeah, it would have been.” He fixes Jackson with a curious look. “Do you … have any questions for me? About any of this?”

“Uh. Sure.” Jackson looks around the room, slowly, as if the best question to ask might be scrawled on the walls. The faces peering out of the framed photos draw his attention again, but it’s all so much. He looks away, back at the box of pizza in front of them instead. “Is it… okay if I have another slice, Mr. Mulder?”

The man laughs a little, crossing his arms. “You can just call me Mulder.”

“I think I’m eating more than you, Mulder,” Jackson points out seriously. “It doesn’t seem fair. It’s your pizza.”

“I told you, eat as much as you want.”

Jackson feels like he has been polite enough. He shrugs. “Thanks,” Jackson says, taking another slice.

“Jackson,” Mulder says, watching him eat, his voice suddenly too casual. “Do you have any idea who your birth father is?”

Jackson picks up his piece of pizza and studies it, pulling off a particularly delicious-looking piece of sausage and sampling it. “Well,” he says, through a mouthful, “I’ve got a guess. Based on certain clues. But I don’t know for sure.”

“Clues you’ve read in people’s minds? Or clues you’ve noticed?”

Jackson shrugs again. “Both, I guess.” He gives Mulder a look, raising his eyebrows.

There’s a pause.

“What clues?”

“Well, I’m not stupid,” Jackson says matter-of-factly. “That woman, Dana Scully, was here, fighting with you. Lots of big feelings. Then, the way you’re acting now. Like you think I’m a brand new iPhone and you can’t stop looking at me. And how you seem to know things about me. That’s a bunch of clues.”

Mulder has been sitting with his arms crossed, and he hasn’t moved the entire time Jackson’s been talking. But now Jackson can see a tear sprouting in his eye. It surprises him. Wayne Van De Kamp, his father, would never have cried in front of him. Mulder blots it with his sleeve, and Jackson sees his hands are shaking, too.

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that so carelessly, kind of flippantly. It’s obviously a big deal to Mulder. Really, truthfully, it’s a big deal to Jackson, too—something he’s wondered about his whole life. But right now he just can’t have everything feel like a big deal all at once. Or he’ll explode or something.

He meets the man’s damp eyes.

“Yeah,” Mulder says roughly, trying to smile. “Okay. A lot of clues.” He pauses, uncrosses his arms, places his hands on the table. “I get the sense you can’t handle a lot more emotional drama right now, Jackson, and I get that, I really do. Believe it or not, I’ve been in that place myself.”

Jackson’s speechless. It’s like the man read his mind, but that’s not possible.

“I just want to say, we can talk about it whenever you want to,” Mulder adds. “No pressure.”

Jackson nods his head up and down, licking his lips nervously.

***

After dinner, they go back into the part of the room with the couch, which is surrounded by all the messy piles of books. Jackson sits on the floor and starts picking up volumes curiously. “The Art of Profiling?” he says. “Is that an art book?”

“No,” Mulder says with a smile, trying to kick piles out of the way. “It’s psychological profiling. Like for criminals.”

“Oh,” Jackson says, making a connection. “Like on Criminal Minds.”

“What’s that? A TV show?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says. “My parents love it. It’s about a team of FBI agents who profile dangerous criminals.” An exciting thought occurs to him. “Wait, is that what you did?”

“Yes,” Mulder says. “No. Kind of. I was a profiler, years and years ago. But then I was put on the X-files, where I investigated cases that had unexplainable, supernatural associations.”

“That’s why you have books like this,” Jackson says. He lifts the book Sasquatch: Diverse Perspectives. “Or this?” Extraterrestrial Abductions Beyond the Media.

“Yeah,” Mulder says, a self-deprecating shrug. “That’s right.”

“That’s badass,” Jackson says, a root of an idea occurring to him. He belatedly realizes his mistake. “I mean, that’s cool. Very cool,” he corrects himself.

“It was badass,” Mulder agrees, seemingly unaffected by Jackson’s profanity. “Although… it could be difficult. We went through a lot, working on the X-files. Scully and me.”

Jackson absorbs this information. “So you and Dana Scully worked together on the X-files. In the F.B.I.. That’s how you knew one another?”

“We were partners,” Mulder says with quiet precision, like this sentence is very important.

They’re just three words—we were partners—but Jackson can tell they tell an entire complicated story the length of a book or more. His shine cries out to be used, but Jackson pushes it aside.

“Mulder,” Jackson says slowly. “Is it a coincidence that you and my birth mom worked on these X-files … and that I have these abilities?”

“No, Jackson,” Mulder says, sighing heavily. “It’s probably not a coincidence.” He sits on the couch, looking down at Jackson still sitting on the floor. “There are things that both of us were exposed to that could have … caused the abilities.”

“But you guys don’t have them yourselves, right?”

“No. Not like you.”

It’s a frustrating answer. “Not like me? Or not at all?”

“Some things I want to wait to talk to you about,” Mulder replies. “Until we’ve had a chance to talk to your mother, too.”

Your mother.

Jackson inhales sharply, the words sending an unexpected shock through him.

“I meant Scully, of course,” Mulder says quickly, noticing his reaction. “I’m sorry.”

“Dana Scully isn’t my mother,” Jackson says with emphasis. “I have a mother.”

“I know.” Mulder’s eyes look impossibly sad. “I’m sorry, Jackson. I know.”

“I’m not looking to replace my parents,” Jackson says tightly. “That’s not why I’m here or what this is about. They’ll always be my parents. I love them.”

Mulder appears to sink further into the couch. “Yeah,” he says. “I can tell you do.”

Jackson looks down quickly at the stack of books again, playing silently with the cover of Criminology Through The Ages. He knows he shouldn’t have gotten angry. He knows Mulder didn’t mean anything by it, and he’s having to struggle with his shine now to keep from sensing any bad feelings or thoughts coming off of Mulder.

It’s just Jackson feels almost disloyal, sitting here talking to this man, learning this information about his birth parents’ lives, when his parents just died. When they probably died because of him.

“Jackson.” Mulder’s voice is kind. “What were they like? Your parents. Do you want to … tell me about them? I don’t know anything about them.”

Jackson pauses, still staring at the book in his hand. “Yeah,” he says. He tries to find the right words. He has to be the person who remembers them, who speaks for them to the world now. “They were … they weren’t anything like me. But they were great.”

Mulder waits patiently, his soft eyes on Jackson. Jackson puts the book back carefully on top of a pile.

“My dad was the shop teacher at Rawlins High School. He was good at woodworking, cabinetry. He was always trying to teach me.”

“Were you good at it, too?”

“No,” Jackson says with a tiny smile. “I was really, really bad at it.”

“Oh yeah?” Mulder echoes the tiny smile.

“I couldn’t cut straight. I forgot to measure,” Jackson says, shaking his head. “I was always disappointing him.”

“Not really,” Mulder guesses softly.

“No,” Jackson agrees, just as softly. “Not really.” He’s quiet, thinking more about his goofy, sweater-vested dad. “He was always cheerful. He thought you should look on the positive side of things, you know? Really into baseball. He coached my Little League team for a while.”

“That’s good,” Mulder says encouragingly. “It’s good to play sports.” He’s quiet, too. “And your mom?”

“Her job was running the church preschool,” Jackson says. “She was always singing. She loved holiday decorations, and to cook and bake.” He feels tears threatening. “She is just … she was a really good mom to me. Like, she hugged me all the time. I acted like I didn’t like it, but I did.”

“I’m glad she did that,” Mulder whispers. “I’m so glad.”

“She was really Christian. Really into church. They both were.”

“You were raised religious?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says. “Lutheran.” He glances at Mulder wryly. “But I was really bad at that, too.”

Mulder returns the look. “I’m not very good at that myself,” he says. “Scully’s religious, in her own way. But I’ve never been … that kind of believer. It’s just never made sense to me”

Something warm blooms in Jackson at being understood in this way. It’s never made sense to him, either.

“What are you good at?” Mulder asks. His tone is gentle, but Jackson’s shine is suddenly alert, suddenly aware of what’s underneath the man’s exterior. Mulder is hungry to know more about him, desperate for any detail. His need is so overwhelming, Jackson closes the door on it quickly.

“I don’t know,” Jackson says casually. “I’m good at math, I guess. Math comes easy to me.”

Mulder’s face lights up. “Scully’s amazing at math.” Looking over at Jackson, he seems to regret his words. His scolding to himself shines through. —stop making everything he says about me and Scully. “Sorry. You’re telling me about yourself.”

“I like to run,” Jackson continues. “I’m pretty fast, and I think I’m a good distance runner. I was thinking maybe I’d try out for the track team in high school.” He pauses. “But I guess I’m not going to high school now.”

“Come on,” Mulder says. “Of course you’re going to high school. Your life isn’t over.”

“I’m most likely going to prison,” Jackson mumbles darkly.

“Nah. Not going to happen.”

“I don’t even know where I’m going to live,” Jackson adds. “Where I’m going to stay tonight.”

“You’re obviously going to stay here tonight,” Mulder insists. “After that, we’ll figure it out.”

The lightning-fast image of a school building with a sign— Farrs Corner High School—and then another fast image, the two of them, Mulder and Jackson, running side by side on a country road, a road that looks a lot like the road right outside the farmhouse. Then almost instantly, more scolding in Mulder’s mind: Way ahead of yourself. Stop it. Haven’t even told Scully. Need to confirm.

“How will we confirm?” Jackson asks quickly. “What does that mean?”

Mulder’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

“Sorry,” Jackson says. “That was kind of rude of me, probably.”

“I have to remind myself you’re listening,” Mulder says with a small smile.

“I normally try to hide it more,” Jackson says. He stands up, stepping around the books to sit next to Mulder on the couch. “But I mean … what’s the point if you already know, right?”

“I was just thinking that before we introduce you to Scully, we should run DNA,” Mulder says. “Yours against mine. To confirm it.”

“Why?” Jackson says, frowning. “You don’t believe me?”

“Can’t you tell that I believe you?”

Jackson sighs. “Yeah, I think you do.” He kicks out his long legs and leans his head back against the back of the couch. “But like I said, you’re not the easiest.”

“The people that Scully and I used to be involved with,” Mulder says, “were the kind of people who would go to extremes. Even extremes like convincing a kid his birth mother was someone she wasn’t. Like planting ideas into people’s heads. I don’t think you’re lying, but I think it would be smart to know for sure.”

Jackson swings his head to look at Mulder. “Who were these people?”

Mulder regards him with a troubled expression. “I’ll answer that, Jackson. But I think you need to answer this, too: who drove you here? To Virginia?”

“I told you,” Jackson says, folding his arms defensively, “I can’t tell you that.”

“Why?” Mulder’s eyebrows draw together in concern. “It worries me a little. Did the person who drove you ask you not to tell me?”

“Yeah, they did,” Jackson admits. “But I don’t think they’re one of these bad people you’re talking about. They were just trying to help me.”

“But Jackson,” Mulder says urgently, “you need to understand that—”

“You’re just going to have to trust me,” Jackson insists, and his voice sounds younger than he intends. “Please. Just trust me.”

Mulder rubs his temple with one finger. “Okay,” he says simply. “I can do trust.” He leans forward on his forearms. “But still, Jackson, I think we gotta do the DNA test. If you’re not … the person we think you are—and who Scully thinks you are, it would be too hard for her.”

“She’s been wanting to see me that bad?”

Mulder is surprised. “Of course she has. Of course.”

“But it was a closed adoption. Her choice.”

Mulder opens and closes his mouth, again seeming not to know what to say. “Since the second she let you go,” he says, his voice strained, “she’s been wanting to see you again.”

Jackson’s shine pulls in an image then of a baby in a crib, crying, and then the woman Mulder calls Scully, younger, crying and crying, inconsolable.

It’s all too sad, and Jackson is sad already.

“Okay. DNA test tomorrow then,” Jackson says, shrugging. “No big deal.”

“Great,” Mulder says, standing up. “Now I thought I’d show you where you’ll be sleeping if you want. I’ll have to put sheets on the guest bed first. Maybe you can help me. This place used to be a little more organized when Scully lived here.”

“You have a guest room, huh?” Jackson says. “Fancy.”

“Yeah,” Mulder says in a strange voice. “It’s just an extra bedroom. Small. Not too fancy.”

It was supposed to be your room. In case we got you back somehow. Mulder’s thoughts are suddenly and unexpectedly clear.

“Then I guess I better sleep in it,” Jackson responds flatly, following along behind him.

***

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #x files #xf fanfic #msr #jackson van de kamp

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scullysexual · 2 months

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You're Never Just Anything To Me (11)

@today-in-fic | ao3 | Prev. Chapter

A look into Mulder and Scully’s relationship starting from Millennium going all the way up to Requiem.

XI. Theef.

A baby grows inside of her. She touches her still flat stomach and can feel its life force beneath the skin.

“We should move,” says Scully. Her mind has wandered again, thinking of scenarios where they are successful. Her latest appointment with Dr Parenti had brought her more hope that this IVF route could work.

“We should move in together, get a house.”

She feels Mulder freeze beneath her.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice laced with uncertainty. The sound of it tugs her chest and Scully sits up.

“Of course. Are you okay with that?”

A massive grin breaks out across his face. “Of course I am, Scully. I’d love to move in with you.”

Her own smile breaks through. “Not far, though. Somewhere close to my mother and work so you don’t have to waste unnecessary time commuting in.”

“What about you?” he asks.

His face has fallen slightly and this, Scully had spent the past couple of weeks thinking about.

“I think I’d go back to teaching.”

Mulder nods but his mood has shifted slightly. He seems disappointed. He looks away.

“Hey,” Scully says, her hand on his face, bringing his attention back to her. “I’ll still be there to argue against your ridiculous theories.” It restores the smile on his face. “And you’ll see me at home.” Home. Their home.“And then you won’t get sick of seeing me.”

“I never get sick of seeing you.”

They spend the rest of the night talking about it, all properly for the first time. Talking about it earlier felt taboo, like they were going to jinx something (not that Scully believes in jinxes or anything of the kind) but this was something she didn’t want to tempt. Now, she is so sure she has nothing to worry about. For the first time in a long time there is excitement, there is hope, something to look forward to.

…

It feels like the flooring of the hospital has given out beneath her.

The words take a moment to process fully and when they do, they hit her like a ton of bricks.

I’m sorry, Dana. There was no success this time.

No success.

There is no baby. There is nothing growing inside her. No baby to hold or nurture later on, nothing to tether her and Mulder together. There will be no house.

Scully wails. Folds in on herself on the floor of the hospital and wails so loud she disturbs the other patients. Dr Parenti stands there looking on, detached and emotionless, not even human.

…

Mulder spins the ring between his fingers.

He only got here an hour ago but it felt like he had been waiting a lifetime.

The front door clicks and Mulder jumps, hastily shoving the ring into the pocket of his jeans. Scully emerges and instantly Mulder knows something is off. His heart beats wildly in his chest, his stomach shrouded in anxiety.

“It didn’t take, did it?”

She shakes her head and crumples before him. Mulder can’t tell what hurts him more- the knowledge that it didn’t work or the way she falls apart in ways he’s never witnessed before.

He pulls her into his arms and she goes with no struggle, completely engulfing her in his embrace. He is crying, too. Before now, he never realised just how much he wanted it and how much he wanted to be the one to give it to her. He would give her the entire world, wrap it up in a little bow if she asked, but he can’t even give her something as simple as this.

“There has to be other ways,” he says, immediately searching for a solution. “Adoption or surrogacy, or…something.”

But Scully shakes her head. “There’s nothing. That was my last and only chance.”

He doesn’t want to believe that this is the end.

“But adoption, Scully.” He thinks about all the kids they’ve encountered on their cases, parentless the majority of them there, how they would attach themselves to Scully (and even sometimes himself) longing for a parent to care for them. “So many kids who need love and you can give it to them, they can become as much as ours as any biological—”

She shakes her head, pulling away from him, tear-stained cheeks and red-eyes. She looks exhausted. She looks hopeless.

“They didn’t even let me adopt my own child. They would never let me near somebody else’s.”

“But that was different. It’s the two of us now, you won’t be a single mother—”

“Mulder, stop.” He does stop, he comes to a sudden halt. “I don’t want to hope anymore. All it does is make you hurt.”

She pulls away from him completely then, floating away towards her bedroom. Mulder stands, feeling robbed of everything, watching the door to her bedroom close gently behind her.

…

Her period arrives and it paralyses her.

It’s flow unpredictable every time, this time she bleeds through and stains her sheets. She can do nothing but watch as Mulder changes the sheets at 2am, red-eyed and groggy.

Scully changes in the bathroom, her abdomen cramping painfully. She tries to dissociate from it all, opening the cabinet and pulling out the packet of paracetamol as if it wasn’t her doing it.

There’s a rap against the door.

“The bed is ready, Scully.”

She takes one pill and then the others. She thinks about taking a third, a fourth, a fifth, taking the entire packet until the pain all goes, until she feels something else.

There’s another rap.

“You okay in there, Scully?”

She exits the bathroom only having consumed two pills. She holds a hot water bottle in her arms, filled and warm, and looks at Mulder sitting in her bed.

“You might as well go Mulder,” she says as she climbs in. She keeps her back to him, her distance from him and seeks the hot water bottle out for comfort instead. “Find somebody else who can give you whatever you want. I’m broken.”

His arms fall around her and as much as she wants to pull away her body is a traitor and nestles into him instead.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “You’re what I want.”

She sinks further against him and his lips press kisses along her shoulder and neck. She’s so tired, the energy completely drained from her that she closes her eyes, begins to drift off…

“Marry me.”

She thinks she made it up.

She startles awake.

“What?” Her body turns towards him.

“Marry me.” Even in the darkness she can see his pleading eyes. “Please.”

Her mind is full but she can’t form her thoughts to make sense.

“I…”

She watches as he recedes into himself.

“It was stupid, just ignore it,” Mulder dismisses.

But she can’t, he has said it now.

“One day,” she promises and Mulder nods.

His hands join hers at her stomach, pressing the hot water bottle into her skin, holding it like the baby they can never have.

“Never give up on a miracle,” he whispers into her ear.

Scully closes her eyes, a thief steals their baby.

#the x-files #the x files #txf fic #xfiles fanfiction #soss #season 7 #scullysexualwrites

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gaycrouton · 9 months

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I just read ur fic about mulder and scully watching p*rn and I AM LIVING pls give us chapter 2 🥵 you write these two so well!!!

Thank you so much!! And thank you so much to everyone who sent me an ask about it! I've accidentally missed a ton of messages and I'm so moved by the love and support I've gotten in there. I'm going to be responding to everyone over the course of the next few days, but I'm using this ask to respond with Chapter 2 of Be Kind Rewind! I hope people who liked it are still around and interested in reading it <3 I am so appreciative of you all.

Be Kind Rewind II

Prompt: can you write a fic of mulder and scully somehow ending up watching something from mulder’s “collection” together? (pre-relationship)

Chapter 1 | Ao3

Mulder had died and gone to Heaven. Surely, that was the only explanation for how he was currently holding Dana Scully in his arms as her tongue coaxed its way into his mouth.

His brain struggled to reconcile the sensations of kissing a woman and the knowledge that the woman was Scully. His Scully. Mulder had spent so long sequestering his desire for her to his most private moments, that being able to lean against her and feel her warm body meld against his made him feel delirious. From the way her mouth felt pressed against his to the little puffs of exhalation caressing his cheek, Mulder felt entirely overwhelmed by her.

Without her heels, their height difference proved to be more of a challenge than normal. The back of his neck burned in protest from craning down at such an unnatural angle, but he'd be damned if he let that stop him. Scully, ever his partner, eased herself up on the balls of her feet to meet him halfway. The movement caused her to sway a bit, but when her breast grazed against his sternum, she didn't move away. In fact, she wrapped her arms around his neck and melted into him as her jaw worked greedily against his.

It didn't feel real. He was kissing Scully. She was kissing him back. Suddenly, the games he used to play in the bathtub where he'd see how long he could hold his breath underwater felt like preparation for this very moment. He might've been out of the water, but he was absolutely drowning in Dana Scully's rapt attention.

When he was afraid he might pass out and finally had to acquiesce, he pulled away from the kiss only to feel her body careen forward in an effort to prolong their contact. Mulder's hands darted to her hips to steady her and he almost flinched upon his fingertips making contact with a sliver of warm skin where her shirt had ridden up.

Her eyes had been closed, and when they blinked open, her pupils were blown with desire. Mulder wished he had something smooth or charming to say right now, but all he could do was try to suppress the goofy, toothy grin that seemed to only grow wider the more he looked at her.

She let out a little breathy chuckle before running the pads of her thumbs over his bottom lip as if mesmerized by her own newly conquered territory. For the first time since they kissed, she looked into his eyes and he felt his breath catch in his throat at the intensity of her stare. "Stupid fucking bee," she whispered with an impish grin.

The explicative went straight to his cock, and he knew Scully had to have felt it throb against her stomach. Mulder raised his hand to the back of her neck, toying with the collar of her shirt and the golden chain of her necklace before pressing his hand flat against the nape of her neck, An inch of raised scar tissue rubbed against his palm, and his fingers curved protectively. "I've spent so long wondering…" he admitted before raking the tips of his fingers through the hair at the base of her scalp.

She licked her lips tentatively as she nodded. "I know," she finished, letting her hands slide up from his jaw so that she was cupping his face in her hands, her fingers cradling his skull. Then, as always, she provided him with tangible evidence of her theory. Scully raised herself up on the balls of her feet while pulling him towards her so that she could press her swollen lips to his. And once again, he found himself wholly overwhelmed by the sensation of having her tongue in his mouth, feeling her cling onto him as her hands roamed his body.

Growing bolder, he slid the hand that had been resting on her hip a little lower. Then a little lower after that. Until he was cupping Scully's ass as she let out a muffled groan into his mouth. She slid her knee up his leg towards his hip in an attempt to press her groin against his, but the momentum caused them both to stumble back until Scully's calves pressed up against the couch cushion. Suddenly, Scully was reclined on the couch while he had one knee resting next to her thigh as his hands grabbed the back of the couch for balance, bracketing Scully's head in between his arms.

In normal circumstances, he would've laughed at the clumsy fumble, but in normal circumstances, Scully wasn't staring at him with bedroom eyes and swollen lips.

A loud, guttural groan tore from his chest as the sensation of Scully's lithe hand cupping him through his pants threatened to buckle his knees. He suddenly became incoherent as she traced his length with her palm, curving her fingers against the girth. All he could bring himself to do was bury his face into the crook of her neck and let out incomprehensible strings of encouragement and appreciation.

He felt Scully's face turn towards him before he recognized the sensation of her lips nibbling on the thin skin covering the tendon of his neck. Bolts of arousal were shooting through his nervous system and disseminating into every part of his body. He felt possessed by her, and it was intoxicating.

But he wanted her to feel good too.

Taking one of his hands off the back of the couch, he placed his palm against her hip, running it tentatively up her torso until he was cupping one of her breasts. Despite there being at least two layers of fabric between their skin, she jolted towards him. The action elicited a sound that was somewhere in between a gasp and a whimper, and the proximity of her mouth to the shell of his ear caused his body to break out in a wave of goosebumps as he shuddered.

He began moving his thumbs against the thin fabric, finding the spot where he could feel turgidity blooming under the cotton. Encouraged by the sounds she was making, he began flexing his hand against her, kneading the weight of her breast in his hand.

Scully's head fell back onto the couch cushion, and the column of pale skin being exposed to him was too tantalizing to neglect. He bent forward and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the hollow of her throat, suckling at her skin while he felt her heartbeat flutter under his tongue. "Oh my god," she whispered almost inaudibly.

He wasn't sure how they ended up here, but the next thing he knew, Scully was sprawled across the couch with him leaning over her, careful not to put too much of his weight on her. His hands were under her shirt, resting on her ribs as his thumbs teased the bottom of her bra.

"May I?" he rasped, moving his hands further up her sides and causing her shirt to bunch up over his knuckles. In response, she arched her back, and he used the movement to pull her shirt the rest of the way off, careful not to tug on her hair.

Mulder took a moment to appreciate her simple, black bra before reaching his hands behind her again. In his excitement, he fumbled a couple of times with the clasp, but his embarrassment quickly went away when he saw Scully smirk at him. He managed to free her of the garment, leaving Scully naked from the waist up underneath him.

It might've been imperceivable to someone who didn't know her as well as he did, but as soon as her bra came off, he saw a level of vulnerability settle over her. She began licking her lips while slightly curving her shoulders inward, watching his reaction as if she expected it to be anything other than elation.

"My chest is small… I've been told… during."

All of her exes were morons.

They were perfect. She was perfect. He pressed his face to her chest and nuzzled his cheek against the heft of her breasts. Her nipples prodding against his jawline caused him to turn his head so he could pepper kisses across her skin, adorning her with the affection others had been too brutish to bestow.

Under his attention, the skin of her chest became marbled red as her flush manifested in blotchy patches. When he took one of her nipples into his mouth, she gasped so loud he worried he'd done something wrong until he remembered she said her breasts were sensitive.

In his fantasies, he'd always imagined she'd be responsive. Over the years he'd witnessed how sensitive Scully's skin was, but hearing how labored her breathing became as he switched between sucking and flicking. He split his attention between each breast, making sure whichever one didn't have his mouth was getting plenty of attention from his hand. She fit against his palm perfectly, and he was mesmerized by the impossible softness of her skin.

After a few minutes of this, he kissed his way up her sternum until his mouth was against her neck. "Scully, I love your breasts."

She let out a little breathy laugh before joking, "I think they love you too."

He resumed his attention, but spread it across her whole torso, wanting to commit every bit of her to memory. When his teeth grazed the skin covering her ribs, he felt her muscles tense away from him and he pulled back. "Sorry. That tickles," she grinned.

With as much seriousness as he could muster, he asked, "Where?" Then, putting his hand on her side, he flexed his fingers, grinning as she gasped and lurched away from him. "There?"

"Mulder, don't," she warned with a breathy laugh, wrapping her arms protectively around herself. The movement caused her to push her breasts together and suddenly Mulder forgot what he was just doing.

Scully must've seen his expression change because her hands quickly slid to her waistband with his own hands trailing quickly behind. They made quick work of ridding Scully of her pants. As the fabric slid down her legs, he repositioned them so that he was sitting normally on the couch while Scully sat on his lap – her back to his front as her legs dangled on either side of his own, her feet unable to touch the ground.

Scully seemed shocked at the sudden change in position, but when his hand slid down her abdomen, she simply fell limp against him, reclining her head back so that it was resting against his shoulder.

His fingers slowly crept under the elastic of her underwear, treading through her public hair until he felt slick warmth.

"You're so wet," he murmured in disbelief. "Was this from the video?"

"Not even slightly," she asserted with a sardonic laugh, a sound he felt resonate against his chest. Then, in a softer voice, she added, "It's because of you."

His eyes fluttered shut as the weight of that statement threatened to rock him off-kilter. To say he was aroused was an understatement. An eight-inch long understatement currently straining against the denim of his pants. But part of what was titillating was that he was on the cusp of learning truths he'd only been able to speculate, and speculate he had, with his cock in his hand since he fell in love with her. If he was honest, even before. What would she sound like? What did she like? Was she bossy or submissive or both? With each second that passed at this moment, he was learning something new.

Mulder progressed slowly, feeling her reactions before proceeding further. He watched her face with rapt captivation as he slid his middle finger into her, palm up. Her brows furrowed and Mulder paused a moment, his finger still inside her, as he watched for any sign of pain or discomfort. When he felt her hips wiggle against his hand in silent encouragement, he withdrew his finger slightly, curving it against her upper wall before plunging it back into her tight heat. Despite the fact his second knuckle was just sticking out of her, and that his index and ring fingers were flush against her labia, she still rolled her hips against him as if he could possibly get any deeper.

As she squirmed in his lap, her ass kept grinding against his crotch, causing him to inadvertently buck against her and push her harder against his hand. Based on her reactions, he took the initiative to plunge his ring finger inside of her while pressing the palm of his hand against her swollen clit.

Scully gasped as her head lolled back and forth against his shoulder. Taking advantage of the position, he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her neck, sucking on her erogenous zone with fervor. With his free hand, he slid up her torso until he was groping her breast again, kneading its weight while using his forearm to lock her in place tightly against him.

Restraining her elicited a surge of arousal to coat his digits as the squirming of her hips grew. She was babbling a mixture of his name and pleas, and he had to use all of his willpower to keep from grinding into her ass like his body so desperately craved.

As he massaged her breast, he pinched her nipple and within a second, she was coming in his arms. He had to tighten his hold to prevent her from rocking out of his lap as he helped her ride out her orgasm.

He stopped moving when she crushed his hand in between her thighs, rolling her hips a few more times with his hand trapped until she bonelessly collapsed against him.

"Oh my god," she panted breathlessly.

"You're incredible," he replied, his voice equally as strained as hers.

While she was catching her breath, he gently eased himself out from under her so that she was taking his spot on the couch with him kneeling in front of her. He slowly removed her sodden underwear, but instead of rejoining her on the couch, he stayed where he was and parted her legs.

As he stood on the precipice to the gates of heaven, he had one thought.

Scully's never come this way before.

The thought that she'd come undone on his tongue, that he'd be the first to pleasure her with his mouth successfully, was almost too much to bear. She had just caught her breath from the last orgasm when he pulled her further down the couch as he settled on his knees.

Her blood was flowing to her sex and he could see her labia was pink and engorged. The way her arousal glistened against the lamplight made him think of peaches. He'd bet that Scully would roll her eyes if she knew he was thinking that, but it was all that came to mind as she lay prone and ripe beneath him.

He was aroused to the point he felt dizzy. He was currently kneeling in between Dana Scully's parted thighs with parts of her he'd never seen before grazing his cheeks, inches from his lips.

"W-wait," she stammered, her breasts falling and rising with her staggered breaths.

He paused and her thighs released their grip on him, parting just enough so that he could see her face. "You really don't have to."

In that moment, Mulder wished he could have seen himself from her point of view. He felt like his entire body was trembling with the desire to taste her. He was practically salivating from his position between her thighs. He might even cry if he didn't get his mouth on her soon.

Even so, the echoed whispers of her past treatment still hung miasmic in the air. She'd been made to feel like a burden to the point that even though everything about his posture non-verbally screamed "please let me go down on you or I'll die," she still thought he was indulging her.

"Would it make you uncomfortable?" he rasped, rubbing his thumb playfully against the skin above her pubic mound.

She licked her lips while staring at him blankly. A moment went by before her face went crimson and she let out a breathy, embarrassed chuckle, "I'm sorry, I got distracted. What did you say?"

"Did I just make you flustered?" he asked incredulously, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. He moved his hands so they were cupping the undersides of her thighs with his thumbs pressing gently into the area where groin met thigh.

She squirmed under his touch as she tried to shake her head. "No," she replied, her smile answering differently.

He leaned forward so that his breath was hitting the wet arousal coating her vulva. "I asked if it would make you uncomfortable if I use my mouth."

The tendons in her groin stretched under his hands as she resisted the urge to buck against his face, her movement caused the skin of her inner thigh to graze his cheek and he felt a droplet of precum escape from the head of his cock. Scully squirmed once more against the back of the couch, her brows furrowing in preemptive pleasure. "N-no," she exhaled.

Scully was looking at him from her position reclined on the arm of the couch. There was a flush across her heaving chest and her eyes were dilated to the point of being almost black. His cock twitched at the sight, and he swore his proudest accomplishment to date was knowing he'd caused her to look like that. Beyond that, he felt overwhelmed by knowing she was entrusting him with her body in this way, that she was letting him take his time to explore her. He wanted to rectify all the times her pleasure wasn't prioritized.

I felt like I needed to just make it quick which took me out of it, and then I couldn't…

"Good, because I've been dreaming about this for years," he assured. Then, before continuing his thought, he pressed a kiss to the top of her pubic mound, putting pressure right above her clit.

Her entire body jerked in response and he realized maybe he didn't need to give her this preface, but he wanted to say it anyway. "I just want you to know that I don't want you to feel like you have to come. I've thought about doing this with you for so long, and I want you to know I'm doing this because I want to not because I feel like it's a chore that needs to be done. Nothing arouses me more than making you feel good. I promise every minute I spend here is a minute I am thoroughly enjoying myself. I'm not doing it with the intention to get it over with."

She was squirming as he spoke, her thighs tensing under his hands, and he could see her breathing quicken. It struck him with a bolt of pride that his breath intimately blowing against her while he spoke was turning her on. "Mulder?" she prompted.

Upon meeting his gaze, a wide smile broke out across her face as her eyes shone with adoration. "Please stop talking," she begged.

Contrary to popular belief, Fox Mulder did in fact know when it was time to shut up.

He finally closed the gap and pressed his mouth to her swollen, glistening folds, moaning when he felt her jerk towards him. "Oh my god," she gasped.

She was swollen already from her first orgasm and he could already feel her arousal dripping off his chin as he worked his mouth against her.

Mulder wasn't lying earlier. He loved this. Blame it on an oral fixation, call him obsessive, whatever it was he was addicted to the sensation of a woman getting off under his tongue. The changes in breath, the fluctuation in pitch, the warmth of arousal on his tongue — it made him feel wanted.

His past partners had expressed a dislike for the act. For years he'd thought it was because they didn't want him to, but after gaining some insight from his talk with Scully, maybe their past partners had made them believe he wouldn't want to. Perhaps they turned it down because they wanted to spare themselves the pain of his anticipated disgust, or maybe they didn't like it because over time it became associated with shame. Regardless, even though he loved this, he didn't have all that much experience.

Luckily for him, their years of unspoken communication were paying off. Just this time, instead of looking for a sideways glance, he was paying attention to the subtle movements of her hips against his mouth, the way he could feel her quick inhalations under the palm that was resting on her lower belly. With every signal, he moved his tongue where she guided him, changing the pressure and speed until he could feel her getting wound tighter and tighter. His heart was beating hard and fast in his chest as if it was trying to escape from the confines of his ribcage. He wanted this to be good for her.

Sometime during this, her legs had migrated over his shoulders and Mulder could feel them trembling as her heels tried to drag him impossibly closer. "Mulder, oh my god, ohmygod," she whimpered in a voice he'd never heard from her before. She sounded so completely and utterly lost in ecstasy that he knew she was close and he knew that meant to not change a damn thing he was doing.

The only change he made was to glance upwards to watch her, and upon doing so, he realized she was watching him this whole time. Her pupils were blown and her jaw was slack as the sounds of her labored breathing filled the room. Scully only met his stare for a moment before her eyes rolled to the back of her head and her back arched off the couch, pressing herself against him as her orgasm rolled through her. His name rang out in her breathy, strangled voice as she gripped his wrists.

Mulder didn't let up until he felt one of her hands gently push at his head when she became overly sensitized. He glanced up at the visage of her framed between her thighs, she was looking at him from over her breasts with a toothy grin. "Wow," she giggled, placing one of her hands over her heart.

He'd never been more in love with someone in his entire life.

"You're so beautiful," he told her with a content smile.

She pouted her bottom lip shyly before rocking her body forward so that she was properly sitting on the couch. Her palms cradled his jaw as she used her thumbs to wipe away some of the lingering arousal from his mouth. Scully's attention shifted from his lips to his eyes, and he could see a whirlwind of emotions passing over her features. Gratitude, disbelief, affection, desire, trust — much to his relief, instead of allowing any anxiety about this new stage of their relationship to consume her, she leaned in and kissed him with so much passion and fervor it nearly knocked him over.

Mulder sat up straighter on his knees, making it so they were practically at the same height as he returned her carnal assault on him. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, still finding himself shocked when his hands met the warm, naked skin of her back and she leaned into the touch. Her bare breasts grazed against his chest and he found himself dropping his hands to her sides so he could thumb the gentle curve of the undersides of her breasts.

She exhaled through her nose and shifted a bit, dragging her nails through his hair as she cradled his skull. As she moved, Scully's shin brushed against the front of his pants and he involuntarily broke the kiss to groan into her mouth.

"Why are you still dressed?" she asked so earnestly that he couldn't help but laugh.

"I was distracted," he answered honestly.

They quickly remedied his situation, and as soon as all his clothes were off, she was pushing him against the couch until he was sitting down. Scully put her hands on his knees for balance as she lowered herself to the floor.

However, instead of gravitating immediately towards his groin, she decided to torture him by kissing all over his body, touching him everywhere but the area weeping for her attention. His nipples, his ribs, his Adonis belt. By the time she was near his happy trail, he was squirming and nearly whining with desire. She pressed her parted lips to his neck and lapped at his skin with her tongue while gently sucking and he was almost embarrassed at how loudly he moaned. He hadn't thought that area was an erogenous zone for him. Maybe it was the anticipation of knowing another part of his body would soon receive that treatment or maybe it was just because it was Scully, but whatever it was, he felt like every cell in his body was vibrating with want.

He knew he'd done things to arouse women, that women have derived pleasure from being with him, but Scully made him feel desirable in a way he hadn't experienced before. She looked at him like she wanted to ravish him. It was a confidence boost that shot straight to his groin. He wanted her to possess him: body, mind, and soul.

Suddenly, she leaned back so that she was on her knees in between his legs, and Mulder found himself reciting every World Series winner in an attempt not to come the moment she touched his dick.

Boston Americans, New York Giants, Scully's warm hand, Chicago White Sox, Chicago Cubs, Chi-That feels fucking fantastic, Chicago Cubs, Pittsburg Pirates, how did she know how to do that?

He gave up on his plan as soon as her pink little tongue darted out to lick the head of his cock. "Fuck-" he groaned, resisting the urge to let his head fall back onto the couch. He couldn't bear tearing his gaze away from watching Scully touch him. He couldn't even begin to count how many times he'd imagined his scenario in this very same location, but there was no way in hell he could have accurately envisioned just how overwhelming the sensations of her trained hands touching him exactly where he needed.

When Scully lowered her head, it felt like his brain stopped working. Within an instant, he was in Scully's mouth. Scully was giving him a blowjob. His mind could barely comprehend that this was really her. The same lips he'd spent almost a decade staring at were wrapped around his dick.

She began flattening her tongue against the underside of his length, wiggling it against his sensitive flesh and he had to grab the ends of the couch cushions to avoid thrusting into her mouth. As if to help him, Scully placed her elbows on the tops of his thighs as her hands continued their ministrations against his balls and the bottom of his shaft. In this position, he could feel the sides of her breasts against his inner thighs, and his entire groin felt entirely possessed by Scully.

Mulder watched the way her neck flexed as she bobbed her head in his lap, her face obscured by a curtain of red. As gently as he could, he lifted his hand and raked his fingers through her hair, trailing along the warmth of her scalp as he brushed her hair back so he could watch her cheeks hollow around him. Her eyes flickered up to him as a trail of her saliva slid from her mouth down his length.

He didn't know what he did to deserve her, and he wished he could thank every god and deity under the sun that he could die a happy man now. Mulder wanted her to know how much she drove him crazy, how desirable she is, so he didn't hold back the guttural moans tumbling from his mouth, she even drew out a whine.

She pulled away to take a breath, and one of her incisors gently scraped the side of his cock, but it felt oddly erotic and sent a shiver up his spine.

"Sorry," Scully panted, using the back of her hand to wipe away the mixture of precum and saliva coating the bottom half of her face and dribbling onto her chest

"D-don't be," he rasped, his blatant, delirious desire laden in his voice.

With her right hand, she kept an even tempo as she stroked up and down his shaft. With her left, she tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear before her hand darted lower until it was in between her—

"I think I'll die if you do that," he blurted, quickly gripping the base of his cock with a firm hand to subdue the overwhelming urge to come. The idea of Scully masturbating while going down on him was something that took him over the edge in his fantasies; seeing it in the flesh was wholly overwhelming.

Scully's hand remained still on his cock for a moment, the side of her hand touching his own, as she processed what he said. A familiar, bemused smile spread across her face as she teasingly asked, "You'll die if I touch myself?"

"I might finally get you to believe in spontaneous human combustion after all," he joked, in between labored breaths.

Scully rolled her eyes at him goodnaturedly, but instead of letting go immediately, she leaned forward and placed a chaste, gentle kiss on the spongy head of his cock. The sight caused him to involuntarily twitch in her hand, and he could feel the vibrations of her laugh through her lips pressed against him. Her hand fell away as she pulled back, eliciting equal parts relief and devastation. She stood up in front of him, and from his position he was face to face with her swollen, pink folds and he could see her inner thighs were wet and slick from where her arousal had seeped down her legs. The heady smell of her made his head spin and he knew it was inevitable that he wasn't going to last much longer.

The side of Scully's index finger gently pressing against the skin underneath his chin drew his attention up towards her as she stared down at him with a tender expression on her face. "I don't have a condom, but it doesn't bother me to go without with you. I've used a condom with all my other partners, and I know I'm in the clear but if you'd rather-".

He wasn't dumb, he knew it was very evident they were building up to sex, but hearing her make it explicitly clear she was planning on having sex with him felt surreal. "No," he interrupted a little too quickly, causing them both to smile at his eagerness. "I trust you, and I've always been safe," he added softly

He'd never been inside a woman without a condom before and he felt the coil of arousal in his groin tighten knowing he was about to experience that with her. Mulder slid to the side of the couch, making space as Scully crawled onto the couch. She laid on her back and spread her legs to accommodate him nestling in between them.

"S-Scully, at the risk of revealing how long it's been for me, I just want to warn you that I don't think I'll be able to last very long," he admitted.

She exhaled a laugh and ran her palm over his cheek. "We would have been zero to three earlier for orgasms, but I didn't want to kill you." Mulder's eyebrows shot up at the knowledge that going down on him had gotten her that worked up, and she shrugged playfully in response. "I won't last long either. Don't worry about that."

Reaching in between their bodies, he grabbed his cock in hand, and pressed his swollen head to her clit, tapping it so that the weight of him slapped against the reddened bud. Her entire body lurched at the impact and she met his gaze with a breathy chuckle.

"To answer your question from earlier, that feels amazing," she admitted with a playful grin that matched his own.

"Yeah," he agreed, his throat tight.

Mulder rubbed himself up and down her slit as he watched with rapt fascination. He was mesmerized by the sight of his pink tip separating her folds. She was so wet that every time he passed over her entrance, his cock started slipping in, only for him to pull it out as he trailed back up to her clit. It was undoubtedly the most erotic sight he'd ever witnessed.

"Mulder?" she asked in a husky voice.

He reluctantly tore his gaze away from their joining, trailing up her body to rest on her flushed face. "Hmm?"

"Please," she begged with an exhalation. She arched her hips with a wanton undulation, causing him to slip into her up to where his hand was in the way.

"Fuck," he gasped between clenched teeth. His hand shot to her hip, smearing her arousal onto her skin.

Mulder plunged the rest of his length into her with minimal resistance as they both moaned in pure rapture. Even with her lubrication, she was so tightly gripped around him that he felt like he could barely breathe. Being inside her without any barrier felt so profoundly intimate he couldn't help but lean down and capture her lips with his own. His hips began bucking against her instinctively, and it gave him the chance to swallow her moans as he tried to find what she liked best.

She seemed to be doing the same as she torturously rotated her hips against his, meeting him thrust for thrust while her nails scored the flesh of her back. He wanted her to break skin, mark him with the evidence of her pleasure.

"Scully," he groaned against the crook of her neck. It was mid-sex babble, but the one phrase meant so much.

You feel so good.

I can't believe I'm inside you.

I've been dreaming of this for so long.

Perfect.

Scully seemed to be reaching his level of near-incoherence as she voiced his thoughts. "I can't believe— so good," she gasped, her breasts gyrating with the intensity of their movements.

Scully had never looked so out of control before, and he knew he probably looked no different. They'd waited so long for this moment, and now that it was happening, it was like a divine sensory overload. He brought a hand up to brush her mussed hair back, and she took the opportunity to slide her hands over his ribs, grasping and groping the expanse of his body as he continually pinned her down with his thrusts.

The leather sofa was getting slick from the sweat and heat, and it caused him to lose momentum every time his knees slipped on the surface. He wanted to be cautious not to fall and hurt her, so he placed one hand on the armrest while planting one of his feet on the ground.

Sensing his struggle, Scully began pushing on his chest so she could sit up. "I have an idea," she said, a husky quality to her voice.

"What's that?" he asked, slowing his strokes as he languidly rolled his hips in an upward motion that made her eyes flutter shut.

"Sit on the couch," she demanded.

He had an inkling of what her idea was, so he quickly did what she asked despite his body's protest upon slipping out of her heat.

Scully sat up and eased her leg over his with ease so that she was sitting on his lap again, only this time facing him as his erection bobbed needily in between them. She took mercy on him and grabbed his shaft, giving him a few firm strokes to spread his precum down his length. The crown of his cock kept brushing against her bellybutton and the visualization of how big he was in comparison gave him just another reason to be completely in awe of this woman.

She eased herself up on her knees and his hands shot instinctively to her waist to steady her. Mulder watched with a hooded gaze as she aligned his erection before sheathing herself fully on him, undulating her hips as she accommodated the new position. Scully firmly nestled in his lap, their groins touching in every way possible, and in that moment, Mulder believed in God.

Her name was Dana Katherine Scully and she was blessing him with a miracle with the gentle snap of her hips.

They spared no time resuming their previous pace as they both chased their inevitable release. Mulder slid his hands over her dewy skin until they were firmly gripping her ass so he could help grind her against him. "Fuck, Mulder," she cried out, grasping his shoulders as her brows furrowed.

He squirmed under her so that her clit was rubbing against his pubic mound with each downward stroke and it made her throw her head back as she became more frantic. As she rocked against his lap, her tongue peeked out in between her lips, and Mulder knew he was done.

There wasn't anything inherently sexual about it, but it was something she did whenever she was concentrating really hard. For the past seven years, in motel rooms across the country and across the solid oak desk they shared, he watched her tongue dart out as she focused. It was so quintessentially Scully. A trait he'd become hopelessly endeared by, and that made it all the more real that his partner, the woman he was desperately in love with, was currently wrapped around him in the most intimate way imaginable.

The coil that had been tightening in his abdomen since she walked into his apartment sprung free with a blinding intensity that had him crying out her name as he came. Then, as if it wasn't already the most mindblowing orgasm of his life, he felt her walls spasm around him as Scully ground herself into him as if her life depended on it. "Mulder, Mulder, Mulder," she chanted breathlessly, her breasts pressing against his chest as she trembled in his lap.

They rode out their pleasure for as long as possible, but eventually, Scully sagged completely limp against him. She threw her arms around his neck loosely and rested her cheek against his shoulder.

Despite the fact they'd just had their mouths in some of the most intimate places on each other's bodies and they'd just had mindblowing sex, the realization that he was cuddling Scully brought him an exorbitant rush of excitement. He lethargically circled his arms around her, using one of his arms to stroke her back with languid slow movements.

He could feel her nipple harden against his chest, and he felt himself harden in kind. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, he knew he was too tired for a round two, but the fact his body could still recover that fast was impressive.

But then again, it was Scully.

"Already?" Scully teased. Her voice was softer than he'd ever heard before, gentle and spent.

"What can I say? You have that effect on me," he replied honestly.

In response, he felt her nudge his head to turn towards her, and when he did, kissed him. It wasn't as desperate as their previous kisses, but it held just as much passion. While she lazily teased his tongue with her own, Scully raked her fingernails over his scalp, eliciting goosebumps across his whole body.

Mulder could feel their coupling seeping out of her and back onto his lap, and he knew he should invite her to take a shower or get her a washcloth — but he wanted nothing more than to stay on this couch for the rest of his life. He'd never experienced such tenderness after sex, and he didn't want it to end.

Scully pulled away from the kiss only to pepper a few more to his jaw, stopping only so she could rest her head against his shoulder once more. "I can't believe the final push we needed was an assignment from Skinner and a porno flick from Frohike," she murmured.

Hearing her refer to their coupling as something destined to happen brought a smile to his face as he tightened his arms around her. "I wonder what would have happened if we watched it at the office."

He felt her smile against his skin. "Well, I guess we'll have to watch something from your collection and find out."

#x files #fanfic #x files fanfic #mulder #scully #msr #smut #it's filthy smut #ust #rst

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atths--twice · 6 months

Text

It Will Be Alright

Separated on a case, Scully is involved in an accident. Mulder will not rest until he knows she is alright.

February 2017

“There’s been an accident.”

That was all Skinner had said and Mulder had been ready to run out of the building and continue on until he reached Scully.

But instead he had excused himself, not caring to hear anything further, and left in his car, driving thirty minutes to Scully’s current location.

An accident. Another one that happened while they had been forced to work on separate cases. He shook his head as he gripped the steering wheel and changed lanes.

Of course she had been injured when she was with him, numerous times over the years in fact, but it was never because he had not attempted to keep her safe. When they were separated, it seemed she always ended up in the hospital.

As he drove in silence, the sound of the radio causing his anxiety to rise, he could not help but recall the moment when he believed he was looking at her burned and dead body lying on Ruskin Dam.

He swallowed and then clenched his jaw, as he remembered the feeling of observing through blinds, what he thought would be her dead body, his heart racing and palms sweating.

It’s not her.

It was not then and it would not be now. She was okay.

She had to be.

_________

He had to park blocks away, running the rest of the distance. Flashing his badge, he gained access under the tape and began searching for her.

His phone rang and he took it from his pocket to see that Skinner was calling him.

“Mulder,” he said, walking past police and rescue workers, people crying as they held each other, and groups of children standing with worried adults. That puzzled him, until he turned the corner and saw a school bus on its side and his heart sank.

“Did you find her?” Skinner asked brusquely, but Mulder heard the worry in his voice.

“Not yet. It appears to be a multi-car accident. A bus on its side.”

“Empty?”

“Judging by the amount of children I’ve seen, it’s not likely.”

“Fuck,” Skinner seethed. “Injuries?”

“Can’t say for sure at the moment, but I’d say it’s more than likely.”

“Let me know when you find her,” Skinner said and Mulder nodded.

“I will,” he said and then the line went dead. Putting his phone back into his pocket, he took a second to look around.

Fire trucks and ambulances were pulled as close to the bus as they could get and men and women were tending to children sitting on stretchers. As he watched a police officer bringing teddy bears to the children, he saw Scully crawling out of the back of the bus and carefully sliding down the door.

He was on his way to her before her feet touched the ground.

“There are two more in there with the EMT’s,” she was saying to the officer standing by the door. “Once the other ambulance gets here, they will transport them. They-” She caught sight of Mulder and he watched her shoulders drop. “They should be here in a few minutes.”

Now that he was closer, he saw that she had dark red blood on her forehead and her left cheek was very pink. She was also favoring her left arm and he highly suspected it was either sprained or broken.

“The kids all get out?” he asked and she nodded.

“All except the last two, like I was just saying,” she said and he nodded, staring at the laceration on her forehead and the abrasions that ran down to her neck.

“Have the paramedics looked at you yet?”

“They’ve seen me, if that’s what you mean,” she said, grimacing as she moved her arm.

“It’s not what I mean and you know it.”

“Then no, they haven’t. There were others hurt worse and I-”

“Then let me help,” he said with a nod. “You go see them and I’ll take over here.”

“I’m okay.”

“Bullshit. Have you seen your face? And I’m sure your arm is broken.”

“I can wait, they’re busy.”

“Then let me help you,” he said, stepping to her right side and turning her toward an ambulance. “I can at least clean you up a little. Get that blood off of your face and cover that laceration.”

“Mulder,” she said softly and he shook his head.

“I’m not asking, Scully,” he said, equally as soft, but firmly resolute. “I know you want to keep helping, but you need help too.”

“Okay,” she agreed and he nodded, leading her to the ambulance.

The paramedic inside, who was opening and closing drawers and taking out needed supplies, took one look at Scully and she paused with a deep sigh.

“If you give me the items I would need to help her,” Mulder said. “I can take care of her. I know you’re busy with the others.”

“I’ve been trying to get her looked at since we pulled up,” the paramedic said, looking at Scully. “You have a laceration above your eyebrow and those abrasions from the air bag need treatment before they start to really hurt.”

“I know,” Scully said. “But I-”

“Wanted the children seen to first, I know. And I understand,” the paramedic said. “But you’re injured too. I can leave some things here unless you want me to do it before I-”

“No,” Scully said. “Agent Mulder can do it. He’s had training.”

“I’ll get you what you need.”

Mulder helped Scully into the ambulance after the paramedic had left, the supplies lying on the small padded bench.

“Sit down, Scully,” Mulder said and she lowered herself down slowly, groaning as she did. He took his suit jacket off, laid it beside her, and rolled up his sleeves. “Okay, let’s get the cut taken care of first.”

“I think it might need a stitch,” she said, closing her eyes as he sat down next to her.

“Well, we’ll do what we can here for now.” He began to ready what he would need, glancing at her often, and shaking his head. “What happened?”

“We were following the suspect and he got spooked. He started speeding and we gave chase, calling the police to inform them of the potential danger,” she said, her voice sounding hoarse and tired. “There was traffic piling up and he jumped to the other side of the street. I knew it would be bad, but I didn’t think…” She drew in a sharp breath and he put his hand on her leg, gently squeezing her thigh.

“It’s okay. Let me do this and then you can tell me more, if you want.” He brushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear and she opened her eyes. They were full of tears and he leaned forward, kissing her temple softly.

“The children were screaming,” she whispered. “That’s what I remember most, the sounds of their screaming.”

“It’s alright,” he whispered back, kissing her temple again.

“I don’t even remember getting into the accident,” she said. “We hit someone or they hit us, I don’t know which. But I heard the children screaming and crying. Calling for their mothers and I…” She began to cry and he pulled her to him, mindful of her arm, closing his eyes as he held her. “I kept… kept thinking of William and if he… what would happen if it was him? If we still had him and he… I kept thinking that I just wanted you here with me so badly.”

“It’s alright,” he said again, feeling her shaking as she cried. “I’m here now. I’m here, Scully.”

“Mulder, those poor children,” she cried and he exhaled, holding her close.

“You were here for them, Scully,” he said into her hair. “They may not know how much it means right now, or for a long time, but they will realize it one day, and they will be very grateful for you.” He felt her nod against his shoulder even as she choked back a sob. “And… if it was William… if we had him… I would hope that someone like you was there for him when he needed it most.”

“Mulder, please,” she cried, clinging to him as she let the tears fall, no longer holding them back.

“It’s alright, honey. It’s okay,” he murmured, waiting for her to calm before he pulled back slightly, kissing her temple again.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her right palm resting on his heart. “Thank you for being here. For knowing that I… that I needed you.”

“Always,” he whispered, pulling back further and looking at her face. “Now, let me clean you up and then you need to speak to Agent… shit, I don’t remember his name, but we’ll tell him we’re going to the hospital. You need to get an x-ray of your arm.”

“When I know all the children are okay,” she agreed with a small nod. “Then, I’ll go.”

“Alright,” he said, knowing that she would stick to her word and wait to be sure every child was safe.

He cleaned up her cut, which now that he saw it closely, he knew it was definitely going to need a stitch or two. But for now, three carefully placed butterfly closures would be enough. An antibiotic cream was gently applied to her face, her eyes closed as she winced occasionally and he apologized each time.

“There,” he whispered when he was finished and she opened her eyes with a sigh.

“Thank you. It feels better than it did.”

“Good.” He gathered up the trash, threw it away, and then picked up his jacket. “You’re going to be sore for a while. Stand up slowly, or I could give you a hand.”

“Yes, please,” she said, holding out her right hand and he grasped it, holding it tightly as she stood up. “You’re right, I ache all over.”

“I’m sure you do. Come on, let’s go.”

He helped her out of the ambulance, offering his jacket when he saw her shivering.

“No, I’m okay. But thank you,” she said and he put his jacket on, keeping an eye on her should she need it, or anything else.

When the last child had been accounted for, taken home or to the hospital, and the tow trucks came to pick up all of the broken vehicles, Scully met his eyes and nodded.

As they walked to his car, she called Skinner and updated him on what had happened and where they would be for the foreseeable time frame.

She fell asleep in the car on the way to the hospital, waking in a panic and jarring her arm with a cry of pain.

“I’m almost certain it’s broken, it's throbbing like crazy,” she said, as they walked to the hospital. “Looks like you’ll be stuck with the paperwork.”

“Nah,” he said, opening the door. “You can type with one hand. It’ll be slow going, but that’s okay.”

She gave him a tired smile, continuing to the check in desk as he searched for two chairs together.

When they finally left, after what felt like hours, she had three stitches above her eyebrow, her fractured wrist in a cast, and antibiotic cream reapplied to her abrasions.

They stopped at the pharmacy to pick up the prescriptions the doctor had ordered for her and then he drove Scully to her apartment.

He made sure she was comfortable and had all she needed within reach, adding a large bottle of ice water to her nightstand, before saying goodnight.

“You’re leaving?” she asked, her eyes opening tiredly. “Do you have to go?”

“Well, I don’t have any clothes here or anything else for that matter, so…”

“Your go bag is in the trunk, isn’t it?

“No. I took it out the other day.”

“Oh, well… I have… a couple of your shirts here… if you… Whoa, I think those pain pills are starting to hit me.”

“Then you should sleep,” he said, bending to kiss her head.

“Stay with me,,” she breathed. “Please don’t… don’t leave.”

Hesitating for only a moment, he walked to her closet to search for one of his old shirts, as she exhaled his name in her sleep.

He would not be leaving.

#fictober23 #fictober 2023 #xffictober23 #the x files #msr #angst #hurt and comfort #worry #concern #taking care of each other #car accident #injuries #hugging #comfort

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lajulie24 · 2 months

Note

1, 17, 30 for the fic asks!

1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

This is a tough question, because I really do try to kind of mix things up in my fics these days, so there are a few examples that might work well as a starting point. But I think Cover Me is a good example of the early-relationship Han and Leia I try to write — a good team, friends before they become lovers, struggling a little with whether getting together is a good idea or not, but ultimately fitting together really well. And bonus Springsteen references, since, as we know, he is a popular Corellian singer and Han is a fan.

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even thought you might be the only person to appreciate it?

As far as an AU that basically takes Han and Leia and puts them into roles from another property, I’ve long wanted a Dirty Dancing AU. Maybe not the whole movie, maybe just the part where they finally admit their feelings for each other and then have a dance scene that turns into a love scene. Or maybe just Leia telling Han, “I’m doing all this to save your ass and what I’d really like to do is drop you on it!” Similarly I think a The Cutting Edge AU could be fun solely for Han and Leia being in “the ultimate love/skate relationship”. Also as I was thinking of this question I decided it would be really fun to put Han and Leia in an X-Files AU where they are two detectives in the GFFA solving X-Files mysteries (some of which are probably the work of a Sith Lord or random Force nonsense — I think Han might end up having to be the Scully sometimes in this scenario).

I’m not sure if I would categorize this as fully an AU so much as me just rejecting the post-ROTJ canon, but I have sort of daydreamed a post-ROTJ story where Leia decides fairly early on that being a politician and diplomat is great, but that she’s actually going to be more help to the ideals she and the Rebellion fought for if she takes a very different role. So she and Han (and maybe Luke, too, and Chewie when he’s not hanging out with his family) bum around the galaxy on the Falcon and she works on things like helping slavery liberation movements and supporting refugees and advocating alongside worlds who were especially devastated by the Empire to help them have a voice in the new government and get what they need. It kind of ends up being a Jedi thing except if the Jedi weren’t so chained to the Republic and had more leeway to help folks around the galaxy. They make use of Han’s contacts and skills and Leia studies to be a Jedi and every so often she hangs out with the Alderaanians to help them out too (although the Alderaanians also sort of make this their collective mission, too, once they are able to get a more stable foothold in the galaxy).

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

Several times! Even though I have written quite a bit of smut by now, it took me a long time before I tried it, and it’s always a little out of my comfort zone. As you know, I recently wrote smut that included some acts that…I hadn’t written about before and that made me go “OMG holy shit I cannot believe I actually wrote that” — in something in the way you move (makes me feel like I can’t live without you).

How did it affect my approach to writing thereafter? Well, I think each time I’ve tried something new, particularly in my out-of-my-comfort-zone smut writing, I’ve realized that the only way to do it is to just take yourself through it, step by step. I can’t think of it as “okay now I’m going to write Leia fucking Han” as a whole giant scene because that just makes me come to a complete stop. Depending on whose POV I’m writing, I’ve learned that the smut works better if I focus on what the POV character is noticing, what they’re feeling both physically and emotionally, and imagine each step they take in the scene (and skip over / gloss over steps that aren’t particularly relevant). Then it’s more real than movie-screen sex but not quite so real that we need to know every single detail like you would if you were doing this to someone in real life. And also, I found that when I wrote smut more often, I actually got better at it and liked writing it more.

Thank you kindly for the ask!

Fanfiction writer asks!

#ask lajulie #fanfiction writer asks #recommended entry level fic #highly specific AU #writing out of the comfort zone #cover me #something in the way you move (makes me feel like I can’t live without you)#otterandterrier #thank you for the ask!

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tatooedlaura-blog · 2 years

Text

Luck and Stubborness

** I dusted off my laptop, and with rusty writing skills, managed this **

Being held hostage and the aftermath ...

************* Everything seemed to be moving slow. Her breathing, the gunman’s foot falls, the blood dripping from the gunshot wound inflicted only moments ago on the hapless, helpless bank teller whose hands had been shaking so badly she couldn’t work the key to the cash drawer.

She saw everything with a clarity she’d never known and given the crawling passage of time, she had every opportunity in the world to study the red color of the fresh blood, the gleaming gray marble-patterned granite of the counters, the one ray of sunshine angled across the room, late afternoon prediction of rain delayed until further notice.

She could feel the hairs on her arm move with the subtle breeze created as the gunman paced before them; she could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, thoughtlessly counting down, in steady rhythm, her impending death; she could taste the bitter adrenalin in the back of her throat and swallowed accordingly, only to find a sizable lump sitting there, waiting to create either a gallon of tears or a crescendoing scream.

She’d talked to her mother last night, shared gossip, made plans, told her she loved her before hanging up and then calling back because she’d neglected to tell her ‘good night’ as well. At least her mom would know and have no regrets of angry words or harsh toned judgements should she not make it to the next Sunday dinner.

Mulder had been on his way to pick her up, take her to the dentist, the novacaine she would inevitably get always gave her a headache and she preferred not to drive that way. She’d walked to the bank from work to deposit her check and he was going to meet her out front once his meeting had finished.

She’d seen him through the front doors just as the first shot had sounded to get their full attention.

She’d prayed he wouldn’t storm the doors and fall victim to bullet number two.

The gunman, stopping his walk, told them all to get on their knees. Scully dropped like a rock, her kneecaps cracking on the hard slate-tiled floor. She should have felt pain but she did not; she only felt the fear that one of her fellow prisoners wouldn’t adhere quickly enough and she’d see the second body fall in under nine minutes.

Nine minutes.

How had only nine minutes passed? Unlike Oregon, where nine minutes had gone by in a literal flash, these nine minutes had dragged on for millenia, minimum.

Bullet number three caused body number two, this one beside Scully, covering the side of her face with a splatter pattern of warm sticky blood. She hadn’t caught up to reality yet and wasn’t sure why the man beside her was now dead but she realized she’d better begin to pay better attention.

Moments and decades later, she’d lost track of the clock after they’d been moved to the other side of the bank, she heard the gunman talking on a landline cordless to what had to be the police. Mulder must have called them immediately from the street. He was out there, trying to get in, trying to save her, trying to …

The fourth gunshot echoed off the walls and victim number three, another teller, found the ground.

They were down to six now, two employees and four customers.

And then the strolling legs stopped in front of her, “who do you work for?”

She’d been asked that earlier, when one of the other hostages had been told to pat everyone down and hand in anything of interest. The man had mouthed an apology when he found Scully’s gun and turned it over. The gunman had asked then, in a screaming fit, who she worked for and replying ‘security for the Air and Space Museum,’ he had let it go.

Now, wracking her slugging brain for her answer, she hesitated a moment too long and was pulled out of line for her trouble, yanked by her arm, falling flat on her face, being pulled back upright with a shoulder pop that would ache for weeks–provided she lived long enough to feel it–, then spinning to face him, the whole time being screamed at, “don’t lie to me! I’ll kill you if you lie!!”

“Security. For the history museum.” The moment the answer left her lips, she realized her error and before she could take another breath, his hands were groping her, searching then finding her badge, which the original man had neglected to mention when his hand skimmed over it in her inside pocket.

That man’s head exploded moment’s later, then, as the body lay twitching a few feet from her, Scully realized her gun was now in the madman’s hands, and swallowing hard, she answered his quiet question of, “who do you work for?”

“FBI.”

And that’s when everything shifted from low gear to high, the swearing, the gun waving, the pistol butt connecting with her cheekbone in a spectacular crunch, the searing pain, then one gun pressed into the bone above her left eye and her own gun pressed above the right, “I should see if I can use you to get what I want. Sure as shit, an FBI agent ought to get me a little more; then again, might be fun seeing what’ll be left of your head once I fire both of these.”

She was going to die.

Shutting her eyes, she asked God one final time to please let it not hurt and to take care of her family and Mulder before sighing out a small breath and letting go, accepting the inevitable and removing herself from any connection to it.

Her hair moved as the bullet flew past her and, given the gunmen had, for a split second, been leaning over for a closer look at her, it cracked his skull wide open.

Some sharpshooter had been waiting for a clear shot and had taken whatever he could get, even if it meant singeing off some of the hostage’s hair. Scully wasn’t going to argue.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Mulder was the second person through the doors and the first to slide to a stop on his knees beside her, scramble around to get in front of her, his hands on her cheeks, thumbs by her ears, holding her head steady to look at him, “Scully.”

She wouldn’t open her eyes.

“Scully. It’s me. Can you look at me, please?”

With effort, she shook her head.

“Scully … Dana … Honey, I need you to look at me.”

Shaking it again, she managed to get her hands up to grip his wrists, nails digging in.

He moved his forehead to hers, knowing she’d recognize the gesture if not the voice, “Scully, please, I need you to look at me right now; I need to know you’re back with me; I need to know that you’re alright.”

Her eyelids fluttered, opened once, caught sight of him, closed again, “it’s not my blood.”

Whispers couldn’t cut it right now with all the chaos surrounding them, “what?”

Voice an octave higher, “it’s not my blood.”

One mystery solved, he moved on to another, “you’re already bruising up. Did he hit you?”

Single nod.

“Fist or gun?”

Back to near silent words, “gun.”

“Okay. We’re going to the hospital. Can you walk?” Mulder started to stand, to help her up but when she didn’t budge, still kneeling amidst the insanity, he went back to her level, “can you walk?”

“He had … he had two guns aimed at my head.” Finally opening up her eyes to look at him, blue rings thin around dilated pupils, “are you sure he’s dead?”

Leaning forward, he kissed her quickly, “I promise you, he’s dead. His head’s in two pieces behind me. Humpty Dumpty will not be put back together again.”

Scully reached out, one hand on either of his arms but trying to stand, she cried out, her left leg twisting under her, “fuck.”

This she said loud and clear but everyone ignored it, except for Mulder, “what hurts?”

“Knee. He made us … I dropped down on it.”

“I can carry you.”

Already checking out of the whole situation, she shook her head, “just help me up.” Finally standing, gingerly testing her knee and finding it holding her weight, she didn’t know what to do or where to look, but, on accident, her gaze landed on what remained of her captor, and her stomach turned, “I need to go outside.”

Without question, he put one arm firmly across her back and under her arm and half-carried, half-guided her through the crowd, telling uniforms with questions that they’d have to wait. Outside, however, was no better, cameras, reporters, news vans, and tourists all craning to see who was the first to come out.

She should have stayed on the damned floor.

“Go back in! Go back in!”

He knew the feeling and turning them, he split the difference and sat her on one of the benches in the foyer, out of the roving eye of the media but a double set of doors away from her personal hell.

“Scully-”

“Just … just don’t talk to me for a minute .. just don’t say … just don't say anything.” Her hand was on her forehead, finding it still sticky with someone else’s blood but not knowing anything else to do at the moment, she kept it there, rubbing the two spots the gun had pressed against, with thumb and pointer fingers.

Her other hand was clenching and squeezing the air in a random configuration of digit twisting, nail digging repetition and not able to handle it, Mulder reached out, touching her wrist, “let me see.” Taking the hand, he wrapped his two around it, bringing it up to his mouth and bumping his lips over and against each knuckle and dip in turn.

Skinner didn’t help by suddenly appearing, having been at the bank since Mulder had raised the cavalry some two hours earlier. “How is she?”

Mulder looked up at him, “not real good.”

“Can she answer some questions?”

She had drifted off again, blocking out pain, blocking out fear, blocking out everyone around her. It took Mulder saying her name three times and finally tightening his hold on her wrist to get her to respond, “Skinner wants to know if you can answer some questions. No one else is in any shape to talk.”

One, two, three deep breaths in and out, she mashed every feeling, every ounce of herself down before finally looking at Skinner, who was by now crouched in front of her, “what do you need me to tell you?”

It took another ninety minutes for her to finish her account of things. Mulder was, by then, crawling the walls, itching to get her the hell away from all this … get her someplace quiet, safe, get her off the adrenaline that continued to course through her veins and show itself in her still dilated eyes. About to step in and tell them all to go to hell, Skinner announced she was done and turning to Mulder, “I suggest you get her to a hospital.”

Belaying that order with her own, “Take me home, Mulder,” she stood and walked slowly towards the outside doors, where the crowds had thinned somewhat.

“She needs to see a doctor.”

Mulder could only shrug, “it’d be easier to bring the hospital to her. She’ll go if she needs to and I sure as hell can't make her go before then.” Scrubbing his face with his hands, Mulder gave his boss one final look, “make sure no one bugs her for a few days.”

“Let me know if she needs anything.”

Nodding, he headed after his partner, who, once he caught up with her, never even noticed he was there.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

“Are you sure?”

By now, she was down to nodding, the quiet car and Mulder’s hand on her arm serving to slow her heart and begin to empty her system of the fight or flight drug that she’d been flooded with since the moment she saw the stranger’s gun. Her eyes kept slowly shutting, stuttering back open, unfocused closing yet again.

He had just asked for what would be his third and final time if she’d like to go to the hospital, just to have them check her out.

“Where do you want to go then? Your place or mine or your mom’s?”

“Mom’s at Charlie’s tonight with the kids.”

Executive decision to go to his place, simply because she was going to be asleep way before they got to hers, he navigated around corner and down straightaway, his hand on her wrist the whole time, until he parked once again.

Getting her upstairs was easy, but she stopped just inside the front door, quiet but unmoving. Skirting around her, he locked the door then, hand on her upper arm, “are you awake enough to go get changed, then go to the bathroom so I can clean you up?”

Her eyes were rolling again as she watched the room fade and reappear, drift sideways and back upright, wobble and calm, “what?”

Repeating himself, he added, “I can help with whatever you need.”

“I need clothes.”

She managed to undress and redress herself while he went and found a bag of frozen vegetables for her face. Hearing her footsteps towards the bathroom, that’s where he headed, finding her seated on the closed toilet, staring at the wall. Without a request for permission, he soaked a washcloth and began cleaning the blood from her face, avoiding the blossoming bruise on her possibly broken cheekbone. Pulling crusty bits from her hair, he told himself they weren’t brain fragments but simply clumps of dried blood.

Finally, as clean as he was going to get her, he focused on her bruise, holding the towel-wrapped bag to her cheek, noticing not so much as a wince from her when the cold met her skin. Taking one of her hands and placing it so she could hold the bag herself, he then wiggled up the pant legs of her/his pajamas to check on her knees.

Two large bruises were forming, the left knee looking swollen as well. Catching her eye, “how are they feeling?”

She had to think about it but eventually an answer of ‘I don’t know’ came back.

He didn’t dare touch them in case one of the kneecaps was cracked but that would be a problem a minute, an hour from now. “Let’s get you in bed then. I think you need to lay down.”

“Couch … please.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&

Complying with the couch request, he settled her in the corner, legs propped up on pillows on the coffee table–pulled forward to accommodate shortness–, blanket tucked around her, head resting where the cushions met. “You hungry?” Hand still holding vegetables to face, he could just make out her head shake of ‘no’ so he continued, “Would you mind if I eat?”

“Go ahead.”

Sandwich in hand, he carefully sat on the opposite end of the couch, back to the arm so he could watch her. He stared quietly while he ate until Scully finally shifted her eyes in his direction. He expected her to yell at him for staring but instead, she stared back, eyes blank and flat. Not about to push her yet, he waited, swallowing his last bite, then shifting a little to rest his head on the soft back of the couch, never blinking, never deviating from her gaze.

Ten more minutes they sat like this until Mulder reached his hand out, “time’s up for ice. I don’t want to freeze your face off.”

Surrendering the now malleable bag of barely frozen peas, “I’m going to need a haircut. The sharpshooter bullet singed off some of my hair.”

He’d smelled the burning hair when he got to her in the bank but hadn’t said anything, “I didn’t realize you knew what happened.”

This avenue of thought died then and there for another, “was I really in there almost two hours before … during …” she couldn’t find the end of that sentence but Mulder understood.

“Yeah. Longest two hours of my life.”

He had the kind of eyes that women locked onto, vibrant green to muted hazel depending on light and mood. The first victim has an emerald green pin whose color had mesmerized her, made her think of him, thank God he wasn’t inside, thank God he wouldn’t be hurt. His eyes now, however, were paled to dark sea glass, shadowed by the gathering clouds and graying skin of exhaustion.

“Scully?”

The room was noticeably darker than it had been a moment ago … or was it an hour … would time always work like this for her from now on? “What?”

“You haven’t blinked in five minutes. You okay in there?”

“Time isn’t working.”

He sat up, concern instant, “what?”

“Nine minutes felt like a lifetime in there, then two hours passed, I only started looking at you a moment ago and you say it’s five minutes.” Swallowing hard, she could feel her hands beginning to twitch, “something’s wrong.”

Thinking back to the aftermath of August Bremmer, “the shock’s setting in. Tell me what to do.”

Her hands were beginning to jump and she was getting cold. Forcing her memory to sort through med school detritus, “I need to lay down. Put my feet above my head.”

Mulder did as told, gently sliding her legs around and then her body down the smooth leather. Legs over the opposite end of the couch now, he then covered her with the blanket once again, running to fetch his comforter as well. Once she was buried, “do you need any water?”

A sheen of sweat had broken on her forehead and he could see the blankets move as her hands rattled and shook, her arms joining in, “no. I … just hold my hand.”

Doing more than that, he first found her hand, holding it under the covers and against her belly while his other hand reached up, stroking her forehead back and forth with his thumb, palm resting on the top of her head, “do you need a hospital yet?”

His hand shook with hers.

“No. I’ll tell you if I need to go.”

“Well, I’m reserving, right now, the right to override you if I get too freaked out.”

Quiet for a minute, he noticed that she visibly turned green, then grey, then white. Already moving for the trashcan by his desk, he had it beside her just as she leaned sideways, the words ‘sorry’ passing her lips before the vomit did. Sitting up before the second round shook her soul, she leaned over, back arching, pain in her face exploding, knees protesting, pulled shoulder pinching, blood vessels breaking across her face and chest.

He had to swallow hard to control his own gorge from rising.

But he held her thigh and the can in front of her, waiting until the universal all-clear sign of head nod/lean back/I need to get away from the smell shift in posture. Once she’d made it all the way back to cushions, he stood up, “I’m going to go clean this out. Will you be okay for a minute?”

Suddenly, exhaustion took over, and opened her eyes to find him, feeling empty and drunk and weightless, “can you get me to bed first?”

Really wanting to clean out the nastiness in the can in his hand, he set it on the coffee table, reaching out to help her, “yeah. Hand me the comforter on your way up.”

Shuffling her to the bed, he got her in, thick covers back in place, and thankfully, her hand shakes back down to minor twitches. Resting his hand on her shoulder, he leaned in, “do you still feel sick?”

“No.” Her eyes were already closing, “just come back when you’re done.”

Kiss to temple, he went and cleaned up, trying his best not to puke himself while he scrubbed the can. Finally, all clean, he went back to the bedroom to find her fast asleep. Setting down the can, he retrieved the book he was reading, opting to quietly climb up beside her on the bed, hearing the faint sounds she was already making in the back of her throat, the nightmare already forming in the forefront of her mind.

She’d be awake soon enough.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

It came out of nowhere, the lightning unnoticed but the booming clap of thunder loud enough to shake the room. He jumped at the sudden noise, but Scully bolted up, arms flying out in both directions, catching him on the chest with one while smacking the edge of the nightstand with the other. Shaking, eyes tightly squeezed shut, she began moving her lips in what took Mulder a moment to figure out … she was whispering the ‘Our Father’ as she quaked, caught in a waking nightmare.

“Scully, it’s me.” His voice was barely louder than her offered prayer, and he said it again, “it was just thunder. It’s just me and Mother Nature, I promise.”

No response, so he reached over, tentatively scooting to sit beside her, legs vee-ing around her, hand running lightly up her arm, mouth on her shoulder, “I’m right here. Nothing’s gonna happen to you, I swear.”

If that sank in, he didn’t know but soon, she turned her head to look at him, her cheek swollen, skin bruised and tight, “is it still today?”

“It’s only been about a half-hour since you fell asleep so yeah, it's still today.”

Taking in deep breath after deep breath, she scooted out of bed, away from him, her knees protesting as she tried to stand and ended up leaning on the mattress, shoulder a dull ache. The breaths came faster now, her fist pounding the pile of covers, “God Dammit! It needs to be tomorrow so this can all be over and done with!”

He moved to sit in front of her, pressing her hands against his thighs, “it’s not going to be over for a long time, you know that.”

“I just want today to be over …” switching from anger to heart wrenching sobs, “I just want today to be over. Just … can it be over? Please?”

“The only way to do that is to go to the hospital and get those ‘happy’ pills they like to give people for pain.” Critical look aimed at her, “why don’t you want to go? Just get checked out?”

Defeat was now evident and as the fight left her, however miniscule it had been, she made her way painfully back onto the bed, “because they’ll make me talk to someone. Skinner will need to know and he’ll call in the trauma psychologist and they’ll make me talk to them about what happened and I don’t want that and I don’t need that right now and I just want to sit here with you and,” her voice wavered, “just be here with you.”

Tapping his index finger against her foot, “give me two minutes.”

He reappeared with a granola bar, a spoonful of peanut butter, a bottle of Ibuprofen, and a glass of water. Taking charge, he held drugs and water out to her and after she swallowed without argument, he unwrapped the granola bar, dipping it in the peanut butter, “eat this. It’ll settle things down.”

Not sure she cared which way was up anymore, she did as told, handing him the empty spoon a minute later.

Taking it, he set it on the side table, “why don’t you come back out to the couch and we’ll find something to watch and we can watch for lightning so we’ll know when the thunder’s coming. We can prop your legs up like before and if you’re upright, maybe your face won’t hurt and while we’re out there, I’ll hold you really tight and nothing will be able to get you and you can sleep if you want without worrying.”

Honest to God, she relaxed a little, “that was a lot of ‘and’s.”

“Just come on.”

They first perused the weather channel to find that storms were lined up one after another until well into the wee hours of the morning. Forewarned, Scully gingerly held the refrozen peas to her face, “what would you like to watch?”

“You.”

He said things like this at times, just to mess with her and it worked, half a genuine smile ticking up the unswollen side of her face.

He then grinned himself, “or we could just flip through until we both agree?”

They did and as the next storm knocked on the door, they watched reruns of ‘I love Lucy’ and ‘Three’s Company,’ interspersed with ‘The Flintstones.’ The rain and thunder made it loud at times, the TV no match for the lashing of wind and water against the windows. She searched for and found his hand under their blankets, holding tight until she came back to reality, to the understanding that he was still there, the only one in the room, the one who would never hurt her.

Once another episode of whatever had ended, Scully reached for the remote, clicking the TV off, sending them into relative darkness and quiet, the latest storm having rolled past and the next not here quite yet. By now, she had her head in his lap, lying on her side, pillow between her knees to relieve the pressure on the now noticeably less swollen but still painful joint. Given the pillow under her head, her face was still elevated, the drugs having kicked in to bring all her pain down to manageable, except for one …

Mulder’s hand had been playing absently with her arm, running up and down, starting at shoulder and moving to wrist, in slow, steady rhythm …

And it took a moment for him to realize she was crying.

One sniff gave her away.

Moving his hand from arm to neck, he began stroking his thumb over her ear, behind, along her jawline, not saying a word, waiting on her for all eternity if he must.

It didn’t take quite that long.

“I gave up … at the end. I never tried to fight him or overpower him and … I gave up at the end.”

He hadn’t expected that.

“What do you mean, ‘gave up’?

She didn’t move to blow her nose or swipe at fast falling tears, instead gripping his thigh, kneading muscle, “in those last seconds, with both guns to my head, I asked God that it might not hurt too badly; that he would take care of you and my family; and then I just … floated away.”

“Floated?”

“I said goodbye to my life, then, accepting that I was going to die, I retreated.” Rolling to her back, carefully, painfully, she looked up at him, eyes still streaming, “I watched him pointing the guns at me from outside of … myself.” Going quiet for awhile, thinking, debating, the tears slowed while Mulder watched her, studied her, before she continued, “I saw the body on the floor on the other side of the counter, I saw everything … from … above. I think … I think maybe God was already taking me but then decided to shove me back in my body once the bullet left Harper, it was Harper, right?” Mulder nodded, “Once the bullet left Harper’s gun.” Shutting her eyes, another tear ran out and down through her ear to disappear into her hair, “am I crazy? The FBI trauma guy would have gotten that out of me and I can’t …you’re the only one I could ever tell that to.”

A few moments later.

“Mulder?” She slowly sat up, fear in her eyes, “why are you looking at me like I’m crazy? You’re not supposed to do that.”

“I’m not. I promise.” Standing, he motioned for her to lie down again, pillows back in place, then, kneeling beside her, “you didn’t give up. You accepted your fate. They are two very different things in my opinion.” Toying with the flyaway hairs framing her forehead, “you’re kind of running in familiar territory right now.”

In the decades she’d lived through today, she had forgotten about Bremmer and that field, “What did you think about?”

“At the end or the whole time?”

“Both, I guess.”

Shifting his other arm up beside her so he could rest his head on his hand and continue touching her, “at the beginning of the walk, I thought about your laugh and how it always makes me smile, and as I kept walking, I thought about you in that blue dress you have hanging in your closet, and by the time I was kneeling in the dirt, gun hovering, sweat pouring off of me, all I could think of was that one time I danced with you.” He didn’t look embarrassed at his declarations, statements of fact more than deep confessions, but he turned pink anyways, slight shrug and smirk, “can’t control what goes on in your head.”

They had somehow missed the lightning, and the corresponding thunder made her jump, whimpering when her teeth clenched together and put pressure on her cheekbone. Leaning forward, he ran his lips lightly over her forehead, “I’ll go get another round of Ibuprofen.”

“Thanks.”

&&&&&&&&&&

He’d coaxed her back to bed around midnight and at her request, had slid in beside her. No idea how long he’d been asleep, he woke up to something. Listening carefully, he only heard silence but reaching over he found Scully gone, the sheets still warm but cooling fast. Looking around, he saw the bathroom dark so she had to be in the living room or kitchen. His feet hit the carpet a moment later and shaking his head to wake up, still feeling mostly asleep, he headed out of the bedroom.

Living room was also dark and empty so walking around the corner to the kitchen, he found her stockstill in the middle of the floor, standing amidst the wreckage of what had to be at least two of his cereal/soup bowls.

And she was shaking.

“Scully?” Sliding his feet along the floor, he pushed luckily large ceramic chunks aside, “Scully.”

He watched her chest rise and fall, grasping for any bit of oxygen that floated by. Fists balled and pressing into her temples, she had her eyes shut, caught in her own little world of terror. Not sure if he should touch her or not, he instead said her name again, “Scully, it’s me. You’re safe. It’s just me.”

No reaction on her end so he finally reached out, hands on her wrists, trying to pull her arms away, down, but there was a fight, her muscles locked on one task only and they’d be damned if they’d quit now.

“Fuck.” She began swaying forward as he pulled so giving up that route, he instead put his hands on her neck, thumbs back at her jawbone in a reflection of earlier and leaning in, kissed her, saying her name every time he broke the connection.

After a good fifteen times, she finally responded, her hands moving to hold his head, the veneer cracked, the tears falling, the air moving, the muscles relaxing. Holding him to her this time, she kissed him back, then, whispering into his mouth, “I thought about you. I thought about my family, too, but mostly, it was you.”

“What did you think about me?”

Tears were flowing now, her voice becoming soggy and slurred, “about how I would never get to tell you how much I love you; that you mean the world to me; that I should have kissed you years ago when I first realized I wanted to.”

He kissed her again, this time with a purpose other than distraction. Knowing he had to let her breathe, he pulled back, moving her head so she could see him and understand him without question, “I love you and you mean the world to me and I should have kissed you years ago when I first realized I wanted to.”

With a wet chuckle that made her cheek hurt, she winced but smiled, “those are my lines.”

“No they’re not.” Kissing her again, “I didn’t only think about you in that blue dress.”

Even though her shoulder protested, she wrapped her arms around him, being careful to rest the unbroken side of her face against his chest, “we’re so stupid.”

Maneuvering, he picked her up, “yeah, we are. Come on. I don’t want you walking through here and slicing a toe off.”

He could only make it to the couch given he discovered he had a piece of bowl embedded in his foot after all. Putting her down, he sat on the coffee table, trying to use the streetlamp reflection to dig out the shard. “Do you want me to turn on the light?”

“No.” Holding up a piece so small she couldn’t see it, “I’ve got it.”

“Do you need me to go get you a bandaid?”

He grinned at her, “you’ve slipped into doctor mode. I think you’re gonna be okay.”

Not smiling back but giving him a good look, “you think so?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Twenty minutes later, the kitchen floor was clean, Mulder’s foot was Neosporined and Bandaided, and they were both on the couch, Scully’s knee propped up yet again.

The rising sun was just beginning to turn the sky purple-gray and Mulder, his hand wrapped well around hers, “you made it to tomorrow.”

Tightening her grip for a second, “I honestly never thought it would get here.”

“But it did and it will be infinitely better than yesterday was.”

Another moment or three passed before, “I'm sorry I broke your bowls. I was debating which one to use then one must have slipped and hit the floor and …” shugging, “the next thing I knew you were kissing me.”

Turning on the cushion, he gave her a long look, “there were several minutes in-between.”

She heard his silent request, “give me a little while, okay? If it keeps happening, I’ll go talk to someone.”

“Deal.”

“Also, if you wouldn’t mind, could we maybe go to the hospital later on? I think my knee is worse than I thought.”

A second smile in her direction, he leaned forward, kissing her again, “you are a mess, young lady.”

“But still here … held together with luck and stubbornness but still here.”

“Luck and stubbornness, indeed.”

#msr #MulderNScully #x-files #x-files fanfic #still here #held together #with luck and stubborness

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catharsisxf · 4 months

Text

'Tis the Season

Rating: T

Prompt: Running into an ex at a Christmas party

AO3 link

_______________________

"Remind me again why we're here?"

Scully playfully nudged him as they stood in the center of a large hotel ballroom. People in formal wear mingled about, stopping at various tables situated around the edges to place their bids.

Skinner had informed them they'd won (lost?) the lottery this year to staff the charity silent auction the FBI sponsored annually. Most agents were thrilled at the chance to spend an evening dressed up and mingling with the DC elite...but they weren't most agents.

Although Scully initially balked at the idea of spending a precious Saturday night at a work function she admitted she didn't hate the fact that they weren't off on some case hundreds of miles from home so close to Christmas.

She stole a glance at her partner as he surveyed the crowed warily. She'd second guessed herself when she put on the black floor length gown with an asymmetrical neckline earlier this evening. But any doubts were erased when Mulder stopped by to pick her up and his jaw practically hit the floor. She'd blushed and told him he didn't look so bad himself. Which was the understatement of the century. He looked devastatingly handsome in his tuxedo.

He looked at her then, a smile forming on his lips. "What?"

Their relationship had been teetering toward something the past few months. She could feel it. In the past she would've been embarrassed to be caught staring at him so blatantly but she simply shook her head slightly and smiled back at him.

After a beat, he grazed her shoulder and motioned to the bar at the far end of the ballroom. "I'm going to grab us a couple drinks."

"Mulder, we're working," she gently admonished.

"Hey, 'tis the season," he winked.

She watched as he purposefully made his way through the crowd.

"Dana!"

She turned and her eyes widened as she saw a familiar face approach. "Daniel? But...what are you doing here?"

"I'm on the Board of Directors at GW University Hospital. Moved here a few years ago." His eyes skimmed her from top to bottom and back again before adding, "You look fantastic." She caught the subtle predatory gleam in his eye that made her uneasy. "You know," he continued, "I've been to several of these but it's the first time I've seen you here."

"Well, I don't usually attend these types of functions."

"Ah yes, you're busy saving the world through...what was it I read?...investigations into the paranormal?" He gave her a sarcastic smirk.

She considered the man before her. Was he any different than the one she'd left all those years ago? The self-assuredness that she'd once found appealing just felt patronizing to her now. Nothing like Mulder, she thought. Even when he didn't fully trust her in the beginning there was still respect. He had questioned her motives for staying too but it came from a place of concern and, dare she admit it, love.

Just then her partner appeared at her side carrying two flutes of champagne and she quickly grabbed one. "Oh! Um...Daniel this is Agent Fox Mulder. Mulder, this is Dr. Daniel Waterston. He was my...professor in medical school."

She could see the older man sizing him up as they shook hands. "Pleased to meet you," he said in a way that sounded like he was anything but. "I was just discussing with Dana how her talents are being wasted at the FBI."

She saw a slight tensing of Mulder's jaw that would be imperceptible to anyone who hadn't known him as long as she had. "Actually, I'd say it's a perfect fit. Her medical expertise is critical to the success of our division."

Daniel scoffed at him, "Right, I'm sure chasing aliens and monsters is exactly what she'd hoped to be doing at this point in her career." He turned his attention back to her. "You know, I'd really like the chance to reconnect...both professionally and personally."

On instinct she grasped Mulder's free hand with her own. "I'm sorry, but I don't think that's a good idea." She looked up at her partner as he raised his eyebrows slightly. She sincerely hoped their unspoken communication wouldn't fail her now.

Daniel's eyes narrowed as he waved his hand vaguely between them. "So you two are..."

"Together, yes," Scully interrupted him before he could put a label on it.

"I assumed you were just coworkers."

Mulder, not missing a beat, simply stated, "Well, we're not just coworkers although we certainly started out that way. She means more to me than I can ever truly express."

His voice had dropped to almost a whisper as if the last sentence was meant only for her. He brought their interlaced fingers to his lips to place a gentle kiss to her knuckles. She blushed from head to toe under the intensity of his gaze and she felt the air crackle with energy between them.

After what felt like an eternity Daniel cleared his throat. "Well...good seeing you, Dana." She was only vaguely aware of him retreating back into the crowd.

Mulder absently rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand. "So...old friend of yours?"

"Not really," she smiled affectionately at him.

A waiter passed them and they took the opportunity to place their untouched champagne flutes on the tray.

She decided right then she wouldn't be content to wait and see when the teetering would finally send them over the edge. Their hands still entwined, she pulled him determinedly towards the ballroom exit.

"What are you doing?" he asked, amusement in his voice.

She slowed only long enough to give him a heated look. "Giving fate a push."

#the x mas files #x mas files writing challenge #x mas files #the x files #txf #x files fanfic #mulder x scully #msr #fox mulder #dana scully

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television-overload · 30 days

Text

neither snow nor rain

(a short little X-Files fanfic)

Almost posted a headcanon that came to me this morning, then realized it worked better as a fic. So here it is:

Read on AO3

"What's this?"

"What?" Georgie asks, looking up at her friend.

"In the mail, check it out."

Quinn tosses a stack of glossy paper through the air, nearly knocking the gadget she's building off her worktable. It lands in a heap on top of her carefully organized wiring, and she shoots him an unappreciative look, to which he responds with a shrug.

"I thought that was out of publication," he says, nodding at the item he had so carelessly thrown.

She furrows her brows, adjusting her glasses before lifting it for examination.

As she scans over the words, her eyes widen, and she looks back at Quinn, now understanding his surprise at finding this in their mailbox.

"It's been years!" she says, flipping open the front cover of the magazine eagerly. It looks a little different, but the title on the front is unmistakable.

Quinn circles the table to look at it over her shoulder, obviously intrigued that this defunct publication had resurfaced out of nowhere.

"Wait," he says, reaching over her shoulder to turn back to the front cover. "That's different, right?"

His finger points to the title, and she squints at it, trying to picture the old magazines they'd stopped receiving about four or five years ago.

He's right to be suspicious. They don't give out their mailing address to just anybody, but this magazine had been pivotal in shaping their view of the world.

In fact, it was sort of how they met and became friends, probably more than a decade ago, at this point. It's not like it was a popular publication, like Time or People or National Geographic. When you see someone out and about with the same fringe interests as you, you can't help but gravitate toward them.

"The Lone Gunman," she reads aloud. "Wait, yeah, I think you're right. Wasn't it the Lone Gunmen?"

He nods.

"I wonder what happened. Maybe They got to them."

Georgie rolls her eyes. "Or they could have just parted ways. It has been almost five years, you know. Not everything has to be so dramatic."

"The editors of a conspiracy magazine?" he says, a disbelieving look in his eye.

"You never know," Georgie says. She'd always been the more rational one between the two of them. But, he has a point.

She opens to the front page again, and notes a number of differences between this and the old design from the late 90s.

The table of contents is there, just like it had always been. But instead of having a number of contributors listed (aliases, of course), each article appears to have been written by the same author.

F. M. Luder.

Well, hey, that's a name they recognize.

So, this is legit, after all.

The page is pretty sparse, other than that, but her eyes are drawn to a note at the bottom of the page, small and unassuming.

For the Gunmen. Miss you, guys.

Signed, your friend

"Man," Quinn says, letting out a breath. "See? What did I tell you?"

She's still not sure she's completely convinced, but she nods anyway, leafing through the remaining pages of the magazine.

"I wonder if I could send in that article I've been writing on the military use of extraterrestrial technology," Georgie says thoughtfully. "You think they still have that P.O. box for submissions?"

"Can't hurt to try," he shrugs.

She smiles, enjoying the feel of the freshly printed magazine in her hands.

"Now I just need to think of a good pen-name."

-.-.-

The house is still sparse, all scratched wood floors and peeling wallpaper behind its creaky doors. But it's beginning to feel like home, he thinks. Stacks of magazines line the walls where furniture should probably be, but they'll get around to that eventually.

For now, he's just enjoying not having to pack up and move every few days while constantly looking over his shoulder.

There's a small desk and a computer in the study, but that's about it. It's enough to keep him occupied while Scully is away. The place feels too empty when she's gone, but he knows it's a good thing. She needs to be around people, and now with her new job at the hospital, they've got a reliable source of income to work with, too.

His work is... more of a hobby, but he thinks it could bring in a little extra cash if people even bother with magazines anymore. A lot has changed since he was last an active member of civilization, so he really doesn't know.

The sound of gravel crunching on the driveway breaks the heavy silence that he's grown used to, and he decides to call it a day. The front room seems to light up with warm sunlight when she walks in, balancing a bag of groceries on her hip and a stack of papers in her hand. Her juggling act makes it difficult to pull the keys out of the front door lock, but she manages.

"Hi, Mulder," she says cheerily. She flicks on a lamp as she passes, and he watches her with the characteristic look of awe on his face that he always has when he's around her.

"I missed you," he says truthfully, entering her space to grab the groceries from her. He presses a kiss to her lips while he's at it, never one to pass up the opportunity.

Her free hand lands on his chest, its weight a familiar comfort to him, but he can feel the prickly edges of whatever else she's carrying against his stomach.

"What'cha got there?" he asks, glancing down at the papers. Envelopes, he realizes.

A playful smirk tugs at her lips, and she pulls away from him. Brandishing the envelopes in front of him like an offering, she watches intently for his reaction.

"It seems you have fan mail, Mr. Luder," she says, pride beaming from her face despite the raised eyebrow she levels on him.

His eyes widen, and he looks down again in surprise at the substantial stack of letters she carries.

"Really?" he asks, his voice cracking a little against his wishes.

She nods, and he thinks he detects a hint of tears gathering in her eyes, too.

"I stopped by the old P.O. box on my way home," she says. "I had a hunch."

"You?" he says teasingly, unable to restrain himself.

"I only opened one, but it seems your readers are thrilled to have you back, and they send their best wishes."

He chokes back an unexpected knot of emotion and feels a breathy laugh escape him.

"I can't believe it," he says, overwhelmed by the response to his attempt to keep his friends' memory alive.

She must find his disbelief amusing, because he recognizes her smile as one he's seen more times than he can count. "You're surprised?" she asks.

"Well... yeah." To put it mildly.

Scully shakes her head and sets her bag down on the threadbare couch, and he follows.

"I've read your case reports, Mulder. I think—and Skinner would probably agree with me here—you've found your calling."

He stands in stunned silence, for the first time in a while feeling that spark of passion reignite in his chest.

"Now if only we could get them to send me money," he jokes.

Scully tilts her head, flipping through the stack of letters to find the one she'd opened.

"They have," she says casually, as she withdraws a hundred dollar bill with all the air of a magician performing a trick.

His eyes widen comically again.

"You think there's more?" he asks, grabbing a few envelopes from her hands.

"Some of these are pretty thick, Mulder," she says, a knowing glint in her eye.

The tension in his shoulders evaporates, and he tosses the letters aside to pull her into his embrace. Any worry that he'd have nothing to do, no way to contribute to this life that he's all but trapped her in, goes away in an instant. Relief overtakes him, and Scully holds him tight around the middle, smiling proudly over his shoulder.

"They'd be so happy that you're continuing their work," she says, her voice unable to muster anything more than a whisper.

Words fail him, so he presses a kiss to her forehead instead, his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

"I hope so," he says, glancing heavanward as if he might see the three of them flying around like little cherubs on his water-stained ceiling.

"I hope so."

-.-.-

Mr. Luder,

I'm terribly sorry for your loss. My friend and I are longtime subscribers of The Lone Gunmen, and we feared the worst when they stopped publishing years ago.

Receiving the copy you sent in the mail was a wonderful surprise. I'm sure we will be writing again soon to pick your brain on some of the details in your articles (is there really confirmation of a flukeworm-human hybrid in New Jersey?).

I didn't see a form to renew our subscription, but if you include it in your next edition (I do hope you'll continue!), we will happily send along payment with it, as securely as possible.

I hope this letter reaches you. Thank you for carrying on with this important work. We (your subscribers) truly appreciate it!

Sincerely,

Queen George (and Sir Quincy)

(P.S. I've attached a draft of an article I've been working on. You're welcome to include it in a future publication, if it meets your standards of approval. I'd happily welcome feedback, as well! If I recall, you're the expert on this particular subject.)

-.-.-

Tag list ♡: @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @baronessblixen @captainsolocide @cutemothman @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @slippinmickeys @teenie-xf @whovianderson

#txf #x files #msr #the lone gunmen #tlg #msr fanfic #xf fanfic #pre-iwtb #post series #the unremarkable house #no sorry this is not the msr adoption fic... YET #this was going to be a simple headcanon post but it turned into a fic #classic #my fanfiction

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slippinmickeys · 2 years

Text

I did a quick un-betaed prompt:

Diana at the Door:

Of all her ex-husbands, Fox Mulder was her favorite. He was young when she met him; eager, malleable. Bright and forthright, he was also dogged and insatiable — if she led him to the right path, he would follow it like a hound down a trail. He was intelligent, kind, and prone to pussy hypnosis. Easily distracted. That he was also a generous lover that could last for days was a bonus she wasn’t about to question.

When the Smoker had recalled her back to the States, she had been confident she would be able to manipulate the situation back on track as she always had, but Fox’s partner had proven to be a surprisingly stubborn obstacle, seeing through Diana’s machinations like an X-ray through soft tissue. Diana had thought the woman had been handled several years before — run through the Project’s standard pump-and-dump operation when she became problematic — lending the Project an influx of fresh DNA while at the same time being eliminated had seemed a tidy solution at the time. When the woman had survived, Diana was surprised but unbothered, knowing the cancer fail-safe would soon resolve the matter. And then the Smoker — supine and (she could only imagine) lovesick — had capitulated to Fox’s weak threats and now needed Diana to come in and clean up his mess. She had no idea what the two men saw in the diminutive little priss, but she was confident that she could at least distract Fox long enough to make him temporarily forget. She had it on good authority that Agent Scully was drawn to authoritative father figures, and Fox Mulder – particularly under the spell of Diana Fowley’s time-tested and humbling cunt – was not the young woman’s type. It would be easy, she thought. It might even be fun.

She ascended the concrete steps of his building on Hegel Place with sharp, gritty clicks, the heels she’d chosen for the evening an inch higher than normal. Mulder was a tit man, but Diana had legs to her neck and men were easily distracted. Case in point the neighbor who held open the door for her, his Adam’s apple bobbing when she purred a throaty thank-you. In the elevator, she shifted her overcoat over the sweater she wore, the cashmere as soft as the lips that awaited her three floors up. She applied one last smear of lipstick and pressed the button for 4.

In her hand was a bottle of syrah she intended to use to move things along. Personally, she preferred the smoky bite of Scotch or the cold fizz of champagne, but those two choices sent a social message, and she needed Mulder to think that she was just dropping by. Syrah said it was a long Wednesday at the office. After a glass, it also said and it could be a great Thursday morning if you wanted.

The elevator doors opened and she emerged into the hallway gloom, the leather toes of her shoes scuffing on the chunky hexagonal tile as she walked. She could practically feel his large, rough hands on her skin already, his right hand callused from keeping up his firearm qualifications, a thing they used to do together. Something about the sharp prick of cordite in the air was like an aphrodisiac, and she would pull him into the women’s locker room with the ear muffs still around his neck and take him into her mouth like she was attending to a popsicle on a hot day. Her blood thrummed as she walked, and she was practically panting by the time she pulled up in front of his door, the thick brass 42 reflecting the red stain of her mouth. She knocked.

She had no real concern that he wouldn’t be home – his social calendar wasn’t exactly filled with obligations, but when he didn’t answer right away, she began to wonder if she should have sent a toady ahead to tail him home from work. Then again, he likely was inside, and had just fallen asleep on his couch. She knocked again, with a little more vigor. A moment later she heard approaching footsteps from the other side of the door and tried to curtail the cat-like grin that she could feel rising up the skin of her cheeks. Calm, open face, Diana, she reminded herself. You have a part to play.

The door swung open a moment later and she once again had to police her own features. She’d expected him to answer the door in the same clothes he’d worn to the office, perhaps minus the tie and in a pair of holey socks, but he was barefoot and bare-chested, wearing a pair of quickly thrown-on athletic shorts that still had one pocket hanging limply down, inside-out. His hair was tousled and his eyes were bright.

“Diana,” he said, with more surprise and less pleasure than she was expecting. “What are you doing here?”

She put on a face of harangued amity and held up the bottle of wine.

“It’s been a shit day,” she said, making sure her voice didn’t yet sound too seductive. “I was in the neighborhood and thought maybe I’d find a compassionate ear?” She was about to ask if she could come in, but on impulse, she smiled at him and ducked under his arm and into the apartment. She found the old adage it’s better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission worked well in these kinds of situations. She put on a mask of good humor, expecting him to at least give her a sympathetic half-grin. “I can’t imagine you had a better one out there in Kersh’s bullpen. If you have clean glasses, I can open this thing with my shoe.”

But he didn’t grin. In fact, he threw a worried look over his shoulder and crossed his arms in front of his chest, his face stern in the dim light of his fish tank.

“Fox?” she said, letting a husky lisp slip into her voice. “Is everything all right?”

Other than his attitude, something was off within the atmosphere of the space – his apartment hadn’t changed much at all since she’d left him, but there was a verging energy in the air and it didn’t smell the same. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly how until the woman rounded the corner from the kitchen holding a yellow box of Triscuits and wearing nothing but one of Mulder’s dress shirts that was so billowing and large on her that the crepey material fell practically to her knees and gaped at the neck so that it showed the soft white curve of one shoulder. And it hit Diana why the apartment didn’t smell the way it had when she’d lived there, or the several times she’d broken in in the years since – it absolutely reeked of the tangy musk of sex.

“Mulder, are these even still good?” the woman said without looking up, still walking forward. She was peering inside the box with a dubious look on her face. “These have been opened and I can’t find an expiration date. Oh!”

The last word was said with surprise, but the look on Dana Scully’s face as she paused in the short hallway leading from Mulder’s kitchen quickly went from shock to shrewd calculation as she swept her gaze over Diana from head to toe, and Diana felt the surge of lust she’d been feeling quickly replaced by the hot burn of humiliation.

“Agent Fowley,” Scully said, crossing her own arms over her chest so that the dress shirt pulled tightly over the bare breasts underneath it. She made no attempt to otherwise cover herself and looked not the least bothered by her own state of undress. “Problems with a case?” Her tone screamed that the woman knew it was anything but.

Diana felt her cheeks redden and she squeezed the neck of the wine bottle she still held tightly.

“Just a social call,” she said, pulling herself up to her full height, and lifting up the wine several inches as though to prove herself. “I thought I might visit with an old friend.” She swallowed thickly.

“Now’s not a good time, is it, Mulder?” Scully said, and finally took her eyes off Diana and flicked them to Diana’s favorite ex.

Mulder swiped his hand under his mouth as if wiping something away and huffed a quiet laugh. “No,” he said, “it’s not.” Mulder turned to Diana and gave her a long look, as if seeing her clearly for the first time. “You should go,” he said quietly, something final in the tone of his voice.

Diana felt the light inside of her dim. She took a halting step back, feeling somehow changed and lessened, powerless.

“I-” she started. “Yes.”

She turned toward the door, her neck hot with embarrassment. The door was still open, light leaking in from the hallway on the polished tops of her fuck-me shoes. She took a deep breath and paused when she heard Scully’s voice.

“Feel free to leave the wine,” the younger agent called out.

Diana turned and looked at Mulder, who had moved to his partner’s side, standing half in front of her protectively. His eyes told her everything she didn’t want to hear. Diana set the syrah on the small table by the doorframe and closed the door behind her.

#fanfic #my fic #msr #the x-files #prompt

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unremarkablehouse · 1 year

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Enduring Heroes

PG | WC 2284 | AO3

Tagging: @today-in-fic

Summary: Mulder and Scully practice their hand to hand combat and attract the unwanted attention of some fellow FBI agents.

The smell of feet and stale sweat filled the air of the FBI gym. Scully wondered when the last time the crash mats had actually been cleaned because even after an hour of working out the stench had not dissipated. Mulder gingerly stretched his leg that is officially recovered, but unofficially still causing him issues. Scully’s sparring session had been far more rigorous than his upcoming field evaluation, but they both got carried away enjoying challenging each other. “Mulder, you’ve got to stop putting your weight on your front foot like that, it’s too easy to knock you off balance.. see-“ Scully pushed her tiny hands against his pecs, easily destabilizing Mulder. He wondered whether his stance was truly that weak or if he was just distracted by her physical contact. The fact she seemed to keep her hands resting on his chest while she talked was definitely not missed on him. “I guess I don't feel that stable on the leg yet, Scully.” “Yeah, blame the injury. It's simple physics Mulder, you need to lower your center of gravity and use your opponent's force against them. Here, try to knock me off balance.” Getting into her fighting stance Scully motions for Mulder to use his hands to knock her off balance like she did. Unsure where to touch as Scully had been pushing on his chest, Mulder’s face contorted with embarrassment and confusion, eliciting a genuine hard laugh from Scully. Grabbing his hands and putting them on her shoulders, Scully gets back into her fight stance, giving the nod for Mulder to commence trying to destabilize her. His first few shoves demonstrate Scully’s point, but there’s something about her smug smile that makes him want to take her down. On the third attempt Mulder fakes a move to push on her shoulders and then goes for her hips instead. As if reading his mind, Scully quickly moves back, completely dodging Mulder’s attempts to take her down. Instinctively her leg moves out and sweeps at his legs, tripping him instead. With a thud and a groan Mulder hits the mat face first, pausing before looking up at his diminutive assailant. “Point taken karate kid-“ Scully’s cute victory dance comes to a dramatic halt when she notices a hint of red emanating from his forehead. “Mulder your head is bleeding!” Before Mulder can process that he’s even injured, Scully has her hands all over his head. Her eagle eyes carefully examined her favorite patient. “It’s nothing Scully, I just scratched it on that zipper.” Despite his protests that the injury is minor, Mulder doesn’t move away from Scully’s touch, giving a contented hum as she scratches through his hair looking for further injury. They both know this ritual is completely unnecessary, but Mulder had been the recipient of such little nurturing in his life that Scully can’t help but dote on him whenever he’s hurt. “Sit on the bench Mulder and hold this towel against it. I’ll go grab the first aid kit and get you cleaned up.”

From his seat on the bench Mulder takes in his surroundings for the first time. Wrapped up in his own world with Scully, enjoying watching her excel and goad his competitive side he had failed to notice the others using the gym. He had reveled in her lingering touches that accompanied her instructions, nothing that would be deemed inappropriate, but much more physical contact than they would normally allow themselves. Whether it was the physical contact or just the odd juxtaposition between the two agents sparring, they had managed to catch the eye of more than a few other Agents. Now Mulder suddenly felt a little exposed at the attention and hoped Scully would return soon so they could get out of here. The looming shadow of an oncoming Agent made him cringe as Mulder prepared himself for an unwanted social interaction. It took a moment but recognition crossed Mulder’s face as he identified the overly muscular physique to be Agent Chase. He knew the Agent from the FBI fantasy football league, his appearance always striking Mulder as being better suited for a pro wrestler than an FBI financial analyst. It made Mulder wonder if the government skipped testing for steroids on their drug tests or if this guy was part of some covert super Agent program. “Hey Spooky, nice head wound. I heard you were up for fitness testing, good thing they’re not doing a psych eval or you’d never leave the basement-“ “Good thing-“ Keeping his response curt Mulder hoped it would be enough to dissuade further discussion with Agent Chase, but the smile that broke out on the man’s face when Scully approached made it clear that Mulder was not the intended target of his attention. “Hey Dana! Spooky was just telling me about his fitness assessment.” With wariness Scully cautiously acknowledged Agent Chase, not wanting to engage with him more than necessary her focus fixated on Mulder’s injury. “Mulder, this cut is still bleeding. I thought I told you to apply pressure.” “I did Doc!” “Hmm, it’s not too deep, I think we can get away with just a couple of butterfly stitches.” “Thanks Scully.” While Scully worked on his wound Mulder marveled at the way her presence can reduce the world to just the two of them and calm his anxious mind. Scully’s concerned voice snapped Mulder out of his daydream. “Mulder, do you have any dizziness or pain?” “Just the usual one in my ass.. I’m fine, Scully.” Mulder gives her a smile that is reciprocated immediately. Their moment is abruptly interrupted by the booming voice of Agent Chase, Scully’s eye roll summing up both their feelings at the interruption. “Hey Mulder now the little woman has kissed your boo-boos, why don’t you come over here so I can show you what a real Agent can do?” Scully frowns at Mulder, her silent look of disapproval is an unmissable warning not to take the bait. “I’m done for the day Chase, you’ll have to kick my ass another time.” “Come on Spooky, how are you going to protect that pretty partner of yours if you don’t let me show you some moves?” Whether it’s his condescending tone or the fact that this interloper has imposed himself on her time with Mulder, Scully finds herself biting. “Agent Chase, I can assure you I’m more than capable of defending myself-“ “Sure you are hun, but when it comes down to hand to hand there are just some things men are biologically better at. Spooky is a bad example, he was probably ‘distracted’ when you were sparring. A real man won’t take it so easy on you.” Mulder can’t help but smirk at Chase’s comment, giving Scully a knowing look he mouths ‘Get Him’ with a wink. Mulder’s favorite pastime is watching the carnage that inevitably ensues whenever someone underestimates Dana Katherine Scully. Moving into position on the mat, Scully stretches her arms and readies herself. “Alright Agent Chase, why don’t you show me what you’ve got.” At 6’4” and with over 150 pounds weight difference, the physical disparity between the Agent Chase and Scully is one of David and Goliath proportions. Mulder admires her cool exterior, never doubting his Partner and enjoying the way her unreadable façade is obviously getting to Agent Chase. A small group of Agents start to gather around to watch the show and it suddenly dawns on Chase that this is a no win situation for him. Either he is the jerk who takes down the much smaller female agent, or he’s the emasculated oaf who gets beaten up by her. Neither option seems appealing to him, but he begrudgingly takes a restrained approach hoping for some kind of draw. What he’s not counting on is Scully’s speed and agility as she easily dodges his first punch and gets a quick kick in that has the effect of irritating him rather than hurting him. Like a bear swatting at a butterfly he strikes out with more strength to reach her only to meet an empty space of where Scully was moments ago. It feels like a purposeful provocation to Agent Chase and his restraint and control snaps. Charging at her with an aggressive fury, Scully is able to use his sloppy technique in her favor, applying a quick counter weight throw that dramatically flips him on the mat. The whole gym seems to shake as he lands with heavy thud and it’s clear who has won this fight. With a humble smile Scully steps up and gives Chase a firm handshake and a ‘nice job.’ Her sincerity is met with a gratitude by Agent Chase, appreciating her tact and lessening the sting of his humiliation. Mulder just beams with pride at Scully as she walks back over, obviously a little worn out from her battle. “Nice job G-woman! Here, drink this-“ Mulder hands her his water bottle and she downs it in one go. “Guess you were holding back on me Scully.” “And still you wound up with stitches-“ Mulder gives her a playful shove, laughing at her sassy retort. “Mulder, I think it’s time we get out of here. I’m going to grab my yoga mat off Sharon, I’ll be back in a minute.” As Mulder gathers up their stuff from the bench he moves into earshot as some other male agents approach Agent Chase. Mulder vaguely recognizes their faces from General Assignment. “Chase, it looks like Mrs Spooky got the drop on you!” “I’m sure she just got extra tips when she was fucking Willis.” Mulder’s posture goes completely rigid as he overhears these men discuss Scully, so incensed by their crude jabs at her expense he doesn’t register that she’s returned and is hearing the same lame chitchat. “I thought the Ice Queen was meant to be smart but she’s fucking her way down the ladder! Spooky won the partner jackpot when he got her-“ Mulder is done listening and before Chase can finish his sentence a crazy eyed Mulder is in his face. Including Chase, there are three other Agents, all of them physically stronger than Mulder and are not recovering from an injury, but there is something so unhinged about his demeanor that makes their hairs stand on end. The men go quiet and just stare at Mulder with a wary reverent silence. Scully takes in the scene, concerned that her Partner has gotten in over his head defending her honor, but she doesn’t stop him from putting those idiots in their place. She watches his strong jaw tighten as he gains control over his entire being, her body automatically readies itself to intervene if she needs too. “Her name is Agent Scully, Chase. Don’t mouth off about something you know nothing about.” His words are firm but he does not raise his voice, somehow this control adds to the implied threat level. Trying to diffuse the situation Chase attempts to play the whole thing off. “Okay Spooky, it was just a little locker room talk-“ “This isn’t a locker room, it’s a federal training facility-“ “Woah, just because you’re hot for her suddenly you can’t take a joke? You feel the need to defend her?” Mulder goes silent, his eyes locked with each of the men for an uncomfortable amount of time. “Two hundred and forty eight” Mulder’s quiet tone sounds menacing as he breaks the silence. “What, you’re counting tiles now Rain Man?” The Agent who quips immediately regrets his response as Mulder’s intense stare bores into him with his singular focus. “Agent Scully’s scores at the firing range, 248 out of 250. Mark, you struggled to hit 82% last eval. Agent Scully is a medical doctor, she has more field time than any of you knuckle heads, oh and she just kicked your ass Chase. So no, Scully doesn’t need me to defend her honor, she’s more than capable of doing it herself.” “Then what are you doing over here?” Chase’s voice creaks in response, betraying his desire to get this confrontation over with as quickly as possible. “Warning you to watch how you talk about a fellow Agent or you will find yourself up against OPR. You’re right about one thing though Chase, I did win the Partner jackpot.” With one last glare Mulder turns on his heels, concern suddenly hits his face as he registers Scully’s presence. He wasn’t sure how long Scully had been standing there and just how much she’d overheard but he immediately begins questioning his impulsiveness. With a sheepish smile Mulder puts his arm around Scully's shoulders directing her towards the locker room before she can chew him out. Her expression is stoic and Mulder isn’t able to gauge just how much trouble he’s in. “Come on Scully, I’ll buy you a drink.” “You didn’t have to say those things Mulder, I am used to ignoring their juvenile frat boy bullshit.” With a quick glance down Mulder sees the faintest hint of a smile and knows he’s in the clear. “We both know that one of them would have ended up with a broken nose if you overheard them trashing me-“ “Probably more than one.” Mulder bumps her hip as they head their separate ways into their respective locker rooms to shower and change. The pedestal he’s built for her only seems to increase in size as he marvels at the way Scully always rises to a challenge and never ceases to surprise him. Giving her one last appreciative look as she disappears behind the locker room door Mulder can’t help but smile at the realization that this petite redhead is his most enduring hero.

"i can probably get this fun new fic idea written out as a coherent oneshot in a few days, and then afterwards i can get back to writing my other project(s)" <- this is the devil speaking through you

#txf #xf fanfic #today in fic #msr #Fox Mulder #Dana Scully #Scully kicks butt #Scully appreciation post

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cecilysass · 10 months

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Pause (9/11)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 9: Cracked Egg

The next morning, Scully wakes up feeling like she had too much to drink the night before. Her temples throb; her stomach continues its rebellion.

Obviously not a hangover. Slipping her hands under the hem of her oversized sleep shirt, she slowly runs her palms over the smooth, slightly-concave stretch of skin under her belly button.

She lets her hands rest there, warm and heavy. It’s bizarre that somewhere beneath her fingers is the embryo she saw yesterday on the ultrasound. Busily growing, cells dividing, steadily progressing towards life.

She blinks, lying on Mulder’s bed, staring up at his plaster ceiling.

Almost like last night really had been a drunken bender, she anxiously plays back their conversation in her mind, trying to make sure she remembers it right. He did say those things, didn’t he? There’s no way she could have misconstrued the implications?

She knows he did. She knows there isn’t.

In restless agitation she stretches out her limbs under the sheets. They’re luxuriously soft against her bare skin, and it feels wonderful, this private comfort. She’s reminded that Mulder told her he bought these sheets because she told him to. Because she was sleeping here with him? Because he knew she loved high quality bedding? Was that the kind of considerate lover he was? It seems unfair that she doesn’t know.

Last night he’d essentially shut down after their conversation, seemingly unable to discuss it any more. He’d told her there was dinner in the kitchen, letting her know her mom had dropped by groceries, and then he had stopped talking. They went to bed early, exchanging only clipped superficialities.

Her mom. She probably needs to call her today and let her know she is, in fact, still pregnant. She considers for a moment what her mom must have thought about the baby. Maggie loves Mulder, and a grandchild is a grandchild, but this is still her unmarried daughter having a baby with her work partner. Not her mom’s favorite scenario, probably.

She sniffs, suddenly aware of the smell of coffee. And something else, too. Breakfast? Surely not. She slides out from Mulder’s lovely sheets to slip on shorts and investigate further.

In the kitchen Mulder is concentrating so intently on pouring pancake batter onto a skillet he doesn’t see her at first. Wrapping her arms around her rib cage, she watches him in transfixed silence.

“Should I be worried?” she says, after a beat. “Is this a mental break?”

He looks up at her. “I don’t make pancakes when I have mental breaks, Scully.”

“I wasn’t aware you made pancakes at all.”

He smiles, an actual authentic smile. “Sometimes I do.”

She leans back against his fridge, watching as he flips one out of the skillet and on to a waiting plate, and something occurs to her. “You’ve ... made them for me before, haven’t you?”

He nods silently, turning his back to her. Her mind flashes to all kinds of guesses about the circumstances of those pancakes, but he doesn’t elaborate.

“I figured I need to try to do better, right?” he adds. “Like you said.”

She watches his back, the way his shoulder blades move under his shirt as he maneuvers the skillet.

A series of mental images of his body as it might look during sex run through her mind unbidden. Hardly the first time that’s happened in their partnership, but the first time it’s happened when she knows it’s actually been more than just speculation.

She’s hit with a pulse of desire. She hugs herself more tightly.

He begins to stack pancakes on a plate with his spatula. “There’s syrup in the fridge. It was in the groceries your mom brought,” he says. “And I cut up some oranges in that bowl over there.”

“It looks great, Mulder,” she says sincerely, training her eyes on the food.

“You should sit down and eat it.”

“Aren’t you going to?”

“I have to make the rest of the batter.”

“Sit down and eat with me, Mulder,” she says softly. “Please.”

He looks at her, a flicker of surprise. “Yeah,” he says. “Okay. I can take a break.”

***

She’s hungry, and his pancakes are quite edible. Better than edible, really. Food is also settling her stomach and dissipating her headache. She’s eating fast, leaning over her plate eagerly, when she realizes he’s doing nothing but sitting across the table watching her.

“Hmm,” she says, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “You may be making me self-conscious here, Mulder.”

“You’re supposed to be eating well,” he says, tilting his head thoughtfully. “You know, we should get you those vitamins again. You had vitamins before.”

“Yes,” she says, nodding, meeting his eyes. “I imagine I would have. Folic acid.”

They stare at one another until Scully looks down at her plate again.

“What do you think has happened since then?” she says uncomfortably, pushing a piece of pancake around with her fork. “Do you think I’ve been given any folic acid since my apparent death? And how do you keep a fetus from developing any further in a year?”

“I don’t know,” he says softly. He takes a bite of pancake.

She takes another bite herself and chews, thinking. They could chase these questions back and forth forever, she thinks. Better to focus on action. “I thought I’d call my mom after breakfast,” she tells him. “And then I guess try the medical examiner again, to try again to see if I can learn anything about the other body. Although it’s Memorial Day weekend now, so my hopes are not high.”

“That sounds like a plan,” he says, watching her closely.

“I feel nervous about it,” she admits sheepishly. “Calling my mom. Even though she obviously knew I was pregnant.”

He doesn’t meet her eyes, but he smiles a tiny mischievous smile. “Yeah,” he says. “She definitely knew.” His expression again sends a frisson of something through her core.

“She was excited?”

“Very,” he says, his expression growing more serious. He sets his fork down on his plate and his eyebrows rise. “Hold on. I can… I can show you something.”

He springs to his feet and walks towards the bedroom. Scully stands and decides to follow him, trailing after as he approaches his closet.

He lifts his head to look on the top shelf, and, seeming to realize he can’t see what he’s looking for, he reaches a hand up to feel around on the shelf, obviously searching for something.

At last he drags out a box, one that Scully recognizes as one of the cardboard boxes they used to organize files in the office.

“They’re in here,” he says, a strange, excited play of diverse expressions moving over his face.

He scoots back to sit on the unmade bed, cradling the box in his lap. She cautiously sits next to him, her hip brushing his and sending more sparks through her.

Stop thinking about that, she warns herself. This must be pregnancy hormones.

He carefully undoes the flaps on the box, opening it gingerly.

The first thing she notices is the stack of photos. So many photos of her. Of her and him together. Wearing their F.B.I. jackets and working in the field. A photo of her at Christmas at her mom’s. A photo she’s never seen of them together, dressed up, at a fancy event. She’s wearing some kind of headband and is absolutely beaming at him, looking at him with an emotion so warm and full of light, an emotion so obvious that it warms her cheeks.

There are other items in the box she recognizes,too, and some she doesn’t. The key chain he once gave her for her birthday. Her name plate from the office. He pushes those items aside, most interested in a tiny lemon yellow polka-dotted gift bag, which he hands to her. “Your mom bought this right away,” he says. “The day after we told her.”

She opens it up slowly, pulling out a pair of impossibly small white tennis shoes. Baby sized.

Her breath catches.

“Oh,” she says, holding them out in the palm of her hand in awe. “These are so …”

She trails off, embarrassed to say any of the sentimental words she’s thinking of. Precious. Lovely. Adorable.

He’s watching her, a smile creeping over his face. “I know,” he says, poking at one. “They’re fascinating. Why do babies even need shoes? People carry them everywhere.”

“They’re sweet,” Scully says. She runs a finger down the top of their little fake laces. She tries to picture an actual child’s foot inside this shoe.

“Yeah,” he agrees, still smiling.

“Mulder, you … had to put these shoes away. Up in this box,” she says, her heart aching for him. “You put all this stuff away in the closet.”

His smile fades. “You understand, right? I couldn’t handle … accidentally seeing it.”

She leans over and again examines the contents of the box. She picks up the key chain, her F.B.I. badge. A page of her field notes from their first year working together is rolled up inside. There is a sticky note with a little message in her handwriting (“You owe me dinner, g-man”) accompanied by a single, elusive heart. It, too, makes her blush.

Mulder watches her read the note, watches everything she does.

There is a small hinged box that she picks up curiously. She looks up questioningly at Mulder. He just stares back at her impassively.

When she opens it, she sees her cross necklace and sighs in happy relief. He was the necklace’s guardian again. Of course.

She lifts the necklace up with her fingers, and as she does, she sees that a ring has been looped on the gold chain along with the cross pendant.

Again she shoots Mulder a look, feeling the blood draining slowly from her face. “What is this?”

The ring is a diamond. A seemingly expensive one, in an old-fashioned setting.

“Supposed to be yours,” he says absently.

“Supposed to be?”

“It never was,” he says. “This is the first time you’ve seen it.”

The diamond glints in the light from the bedroom window. It’s absolutely beautiful.

“Oh,” she says.

She touches the ring with her fingertip and wonders, before she can stop herself, if the never-extended offer might still stand. She has a foolish impulse just to tell him yes. Okay. Let’s get married. Please, let’s just go back to whatever you remember being. Just tell me what that was.

But he’s staring at the ring, too. And he doesn’t look like he wants to marry anyone. His eyes are too empty. There is something still too much like loss written all over his face.

The woman he wanted to ask to marry him is gone, she remembers. Didn’t he say something like that himself?

She slides the ring off the chain and gently places it back in the hinged box, closing the lid.

“It’s a beautiful ring, Mulder,” she says in a kind voice. She places her hand over the top of the box and replaces it back among the photos.

“It is,” he agrees darkly, his eyes still on the box.

There’s a pause. She wishes she had some idea what he’s thinking, so she can reassure him and smooth things over, but she can think of no way to ask.

“Thank you for keeping this for me,” she says, holding her necklace up. The golden cross reflects back its own little gleam of light. Not as bright as the diamond, but reassuring. “Again. I’m glad to have it back. I’ve missed it.”

She lifts the chain to her neck and begins clumsily to attempt to fasten the clasp behind her neck.

“Here,” Mulder offers gently, reaching to fasten it for her. His fingers brush against the back of her neck, and she suppresses the immediate shiver that passes through her. It only takes him seconds. “There you go. Back where it belongs.”

She can’t contain her own smile, but she doesn’t trust herself to look at him. Instead, her gaze falls back on the box. “Some of these photos,” she adds, lifting one to examine it, “can come out of the box now, too, don’t you think? Now that I’m back, not everything needs to stay boxed up, right?”

He glances down at the photo she’s holding. It’s of Scully a few years ago, taken when a photographer was going around shooting recruitment photos of young agents for their brochures or websites. “Only the hot young agents,” Mulder had joked at the time. They’d captured her right after an autopsy, still in scrubs, messy tendrils of hair coming out of her cap, and she hadn’t felt particularly hot at all. But Mulder had requested a copy of the photo anyway. It had hung on the bulletin board in the office since, at least in her memory.

“Probably not,” he agrees, running his finger slowly over the edge of the photo.

Then, in a jerky movement, he stands up, shifting the box off his lap onto the bed. When he’s at the door, his back to her, he throws back: “Some things still do, though.”

She doesn’t know what he means or what to say, so she just watches him leave.

***

Mulder’s exactly right about her mother. On the phone, Maggie doesn’t seem at all worried about her daughter’s unwed status. She’s overjoyed that Scully is still pregnant, overjoyed that she and Mulder have finally discussed it. She manages to ask an alarming and anxiety-provoking series of rapid fire questions about maternity clothes and baby showers and nursery decor before Scully can cut her off.

When Scully mentions the little shoes, her mother begins to make little soft sniffing sounds over the phone.

“He had those stashed away in a box?” Maggie whispers. Her voice breaks. “Oh, Dana.”

Scully glances in the kitchen, where Mulder is currently putting away dishes, and she lowers her voice. “This is… strange for me, Mom. I don’t remember anything about what it was like. With him.”

Her mother surprises her. “I don’t see how that could be true.”

Scully frowns, perplexed. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Maggie says, “my impression was that these weren’t exactly feelings that developed overnight. And the relationship you had, Dana, was a relationship you’d been building together all along. Even during the time you do remember.”

Scully considers that. “It just doesn’t seem to be coming back … naturally.”

“But you do want it to?”

She again peeks in to confirm Mulder is still in the kitchen. “I’m not sure,” she says. Then she thinks again. What is she hiding, exactly, and why? She unnecessarily lowers her voice even more. “No, Mom, that’s wrong. I think I do want the relationship.” It feels strange to admit it out loud. “I’m not entirely sure he does, though.”

There’s the sound of her mother purposefully letting out a breath.

“Dana, the first month I visited him in the hospital, we had to be careful about mentioning your name. We had to do things like read one another the newspaper. Talk about current events. Because if we touched on anything that related to you, he would just… fall apart.” Her mother pauses. “If there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s Fox’s feelings for you.”

“But I’m not quite the same person, am I, Mom?”

“Of course you are.”

And maybe it’s easier to fall to pieces in grief, she thinks, than to pull yourself back together. Especially for someone with as many cracks in his shell as Mulder already has.

She thinks, ridiculously, of the nursery rhyme. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Mulder together again.

*** She’s not optimistic about anyone in the D.C. medical examiner’s office being around to answer the phone on the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend, but she calls anyway, thinking she can at least leave a message this time.

It makes her feel vaguely professional to sit at Mulder’s recently tidied desk, so she does, tapping one of his pencils impatiently as she listens to the phone ring and then the drone of the message.

“No one there?” Mulder walks in the room with a fresh cup of coffee, sitting down on the couch.

She nods to him just as the message beeps.

“Hi,” she speaks into their voice mail. “I’m calling to request records of a post mortem examination done on Dana Katherine Scully in June 2000.” Scully clears her throat. “I’m calling on behalf of the deceased’s mother, Margaret Scully. My name is Georgia Hale, and I’m a medical doctor. Please give me a call back at your earliest convenience.”

Mulder raises his eyebrows as Scully rattles off his phone number. “Nicely done, Dr. Hale,” he comments after she hangs up.

She smiles coyly, smoothing back her hair from her face. “Thank you. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to use my skills at subterfuge in a professional setting again.”

“You know, we could call Skinner,” he suggests. “He’d probably help us get you un-dead from the F.B.I.’s point of view.”

“Yes,” she says. She straightens some papers on the desk. “But not today, maybe.”

He takes a sip of coffee. “Why? Did you have other plans?”

“I was thinking we could—”

His phone rings loudly, right underneath her hand, making her jump.

She looks down at it foolishly for a moment, processing what it is, then picks it up and hands it across the room to him.

Scowling in consternation, he places it to his ear. “Mulder,” he says into the receiver. He’s apparently not been getting many calls.

All expression leaves his face. His eyes snap to hers. Covering the receiver with his hand, he whispers, “Scully. It’s for Dr. Hale.”

That seems … soon. She reaches out and takes the phone from him. “This is Georgia Hale,” she says coolly.

“You called a few minutes ago about the post mortem for Dana Scully,” says a voice. Young, male. Nervous. “Right?”

“That’s right,” Scully says. “I need copies of the records.”

“I have a message I’m supposed to give you,” the young man replies. “I was told that there would be someone calling to request records for Dana Scully this week, and when they called, I was supposed to pass along a message.”

“What kind of message?” Scully says sharply. “A message from whom?”

Mulder takes a step closer to her, his eyes roving over her face, trying to gauge the seriousness of the situation.

“I don’t know who it’s from, exactly,” the young man says. “I got some calls about it, some emails, and then I got something from a courier service. Some important people must have been involved, because, uh, my boss spoke to me about this directly. But there’s a package here for you. I think it’s a VHS tape. I’m here in the office today, if you want to drive over and pick it up.”

She stares at Mulder, waves of fear rippling over her again. Her fear is mirrored in his eyes.

“Yes,” Scully says in a quiet voice. “We’ll come over and pick it up right away.”

***

The young man, Jared, is an office manager for the ME’s office and also a graduate student at Howard. He wants to give them the package with as little discussion as possible and get back to his studying.

It’s in a brown padded envelope, but it is a videotape for sure. Scully opens it immediately. It has no cover, just a simple unlabelled VHS. She turns it over, looking for any markings or hints of more.

Mulder doggedly tries to ask more questions. “Was it a man or a woman on the phone? Do you still have the emails?”

“A man, I think,” Jared says. “And yeah, I still have the emails, but I can’t just send them to you. Unless you do an official records request. This is a government office. I’m not getting in trouble.”

“I work for the F.B.I.,” Mulder insists.

“Then get a warrant or whatever,” insists Jared. “Or talk to my supervisor.”

“Mulder,” sighs Scully. “Let’s just take this and go home.” Is there really going to be anything significant in the wording of the phone call to Jared, in the burner email sent to him? They can follow up on this later. She just wants to see whatever message is on this videotape. She doesn’t like standing here with this uneasy feeling that there’s another shoe about to drop.

“I just want—” he begins. He stops, taking in her expression. The tension seems to drop from his shoulders. “Okay,” he says, turning to the young man. “We’ll call back next week, Jared.”

They’re both quiet and on edge on the drive back. The city of D.C., on the other hand, is sunny-bright, joyful, packed with people for the holiday weekend.

They drive past tourist families headed out in uncool shorts, visors, and matching tee-shirts, groups of shrieking children racing each other to playgrounds, groups of laughing young people carrying frisbees and swinging picnic baskets between them. The contrast between all of this everyday happiness and the gnawing fear inside Scully is almost unbearable.

Mulder glances at her. “It’s not long until we’re home,” he says gently, as though he’s reading her mind. It startles her when he picks up her hand, running his thumb across her knuckles.

Meanwhile, the videotape sits in her lap. It feels heavier than it should.

#the x files #xfiles fanfic #x files fanfic #dana scully #fox mulder #x files

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the-spooky-alien · 2 years

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i am back with something i wrote a few weeks ago, when i was watching season three ! i hope you'll like it :)

Clouds swirled just above her head while the whole town laid down in front of her eyes and maybe, if they hadn't been stuck at the top of the ferris wheel, Scully would have admired the view. As it was, the sight of it was only making her heart beat faster, her palms becoming more and more sweaty as minutes passed without the ferris wheel moving.

To top it all, Mulder hadn't stopped watching her with an intensity that was becoming unnerving. She knew what he was thinking in his stupid, brilliant, mind. Guilt was easy to spot in his puppy eyes. To be fair, he had been the one to force her into the wheel, pretexting it would give them an overall sight of the city.

As if the suspect was going to wave a bright neon sign indicating his position.

''Can you stop watching me like I'll crumble ? I'm fine,'' she snapped after a long moment of silence, turning to meet his eyes.

At her words he frowned, tilting his head as his eyes roamed from her face to her hands, giving her a pointed look. Her jaw clenched despite herself, irritation bubbling along her growing panic.

''That you say. You're shaking like a leaf.''

Hiding her trembling hands in her pockets, she turned her eyes to the ground to escape the glimpses of the sky she could see through the windows. ''I'm not.''

''Look, there's nothing shameful about being scared,'' he said softly, stepping closer to her to brush one of his hand against her arm. Her stomach turned at the sound of his voice, compassionate and kind. ''You don't have to be embarrassed''

''I'm fine.''

She wondered how many times she could say it before it lost all its meaning.

His face twisted, frustration breaking through his gentleness. ''Dammit, Scully, stop saying that !'' His hand tightened on her, not enough to hurt but she still jerked her arm away as if he had burned her. Guilt darkened his eyes once again – his self-pity was beginning to annoy her. ''If you don't want to talk about it, then fine, but at least have the decency to stop lying to my face !''

''Alright, I don't want to talk about it.'' Scully spat, rubbing her temples while trying to inhale deeply to chase away the dizziness beginning to settle over her. A glance over to the window made it difficult to breathe. Everything looked so small from up here.

The man had the audacity to look stunned, reaching out for her again with those puppy eyes that could prompt anything out of her usually. ''Scully-''

''Would you just leave me alone for once ?''

She hadn't mean to shout. She really hadn't. She had just wanted some peace, some silence to work through the panic compressing her chest. Tears prickled at her eyes when his face fell, hurt flashing through his eyes. Each step he took away from her was pure agony.

''Yeah, sure,'' he mumbled, eyes casted on the floor. ''I'll leave you to it.''

His name was on the tip of her tongue. He settled on the floor, away from her, grabbing sunflower's seeds from his pockets. She swallowed it back, along with the panic rising in her throat, as acidic as bile, and slid to the floor, screwing her eyes shut. Wanting nothing more than to weave her fingers through his, she chose instead to clasp her hands in her lap.

Pinching her skin and biting her tongue was the only way to distract her, pain flaring high enough to bury the fear deep down, in her rattled bones. It wasn't exactly optimal, and she would sport a few bruises by the end, but it was the only thing keeping her mind away from the fact that they were hanging a hundred or so feet in the air.

She could only pray they would soon be rescued.

[…]

They were, in fact, still not rescued, despite having been here a few hours now. If at first she had managed to soothe herself enough to feel like breathing again, her efforts had been destroyed by the wind speeding up.

By now, their little cabin was being jostled, wind roaring behind the window just like the monsters her mind was afraid of as a child. Closing her eyes wasn't an option, not when she had to tense to prevent rolling towards the other end of the cabin. Through it all, she had abandoned any pretences at staying even, curling on herself to keep the sobs building and ripping in her chest from exploding. Every breath was a struggle, her fingers had long since lost their strength, muscles screaming in protest of their rough treatment.

When a sharp rush of wind jerked them again, a single soft wheeze escaped her despite herself. Mulder's eyes snapped to hers, widening as he took in her wet cheeks and vulnerable frame. She couldn't even muster any shame at having been caught in a position like that, focusing only on keeping the content of her stomach in her stomach.

''Scully ?''

The sound of her name on his lips, dripping concern but still so very warm in the way he said it, should have soothed the tight knot in her chest. Instead, her chest burned and another whine tore its way out of her throat, and all she could think about was the fact they were going to fucking crash on the ground-

His hand landed on her shoulder before she could blink, squeezing and tugging. A part of her, the one still somewhat conscious of her surrounding protested against the contact, wanting nothing more than to shove him away. But he was so warm, and tender, she could only melt into his embrace, scrambling to curl closer to him. ''Hey, hey, hey, Scully, shh, it's okay, it's alright.'' He crooned against her hair, one of his arm falling to her waist, pulling her all the way on his lap. ''We're not gonna fall. I promise, this thing is secured.''

Pressing her forehead into the crook of his neck, fighting for an ounce of air, her lungs aching, she choked his name. It was the only word who could pass the barrier of panic in her mind. As if saying it was more reflexive than conscious. His arms tensed for a brief moment, but he didn't tightened his grip on her, simply shifted so it was more her laying on his chest than him crushing her to his body.

His lips were moving against her head, enjoining her to just breathe, everything is okay, we won't fall, we're safe, I've got you,while pressing his thumb to the back of her neck, rubbing, drawing her attention away from her fear and to him.

It felt like an eternity before she managed to breathe easily, even more time before her tears dried enough for her to push back, wiping her eyes. Spike of terror would still stab her chest whenever the cabin swayed, but here, in Mulder's arms, she found an irrational sense of safety. He couldn't save them from a fall if that were to be the case, but maybe plummeting to her death with her FBI partner wasn't that bad. At least, they would both die like idiots.

''Better ?'' He whispered, his breath warm against her ear. Scully nodded, focusing her eyes on the speck of dust on his right shoulder instead of him. ''Good,'' he added with a lighter tone, his hand at her neck sliding down to the small of her back, where he usually rested it.

''I'm sorry.'' She said when the fear in her belly settled enough for her to talk. Tilting his head to the side, he gave her an interrogative look. ''For snapping at you. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry, Mulder.''

He said nothing for a moment, clearly mulling over his words. ''It's okay,'' he finally said, smiling in the soft way that made her heart clench. ''I should have let you your space to breathe. I'm sorry I crossed your boundaries.'' His hand scratched her back, absently. A tingle ran on her spine, not absently at all. ''And I'm glad you told me to piss off.''

The spark of remorse in her chest prevented her from answering his smile. Her hands, which were clenching his shirt without her knowledge, slid to his shoulders, where she squeezed once. He squeezed her waist back, waggling his eyebrows.

''Still, it wasn't fair, you only wanted to help. It's just...''

''What ?'' he asked, straightening to lean closer, unaware of the way his proximity was making her feel. Or maybe too aware, if the amused glint in his eyes was anything telling. It was hard to focus on her words when he was looking so much like he wanted to kiss her breathless.

''It's not professionnal to act the way I did.''

His face turned serious again as he gently bumped his nose against her cheek. ''Scully, I told you, there's no shame in being afraid.''

''It goes beyond that though.'' Before he could interrupt, she glared at him, effectively keeping him from replying. ''I shouldn't let fear get to me, I'm an FBI agent ! And in the few years we have worked together, I thought I managed to reign it in. I mean, all the things we've seen, what we've done...'' Her eyes drifted away from his, falling on his shoulder, where she had shot him once, in the hope to clear his mind. His hand came to her chin, tilting her head back up, silently assuring her he didn't hold any grudges. ''In the end, heights are still what scares me the most and there's nothing I can do about it.

''It's like I'm a little girl again, sitting on the top of that tree because Bill dared me to, terrified that the branch would crack and I would fall. I hate this feeling of powerlessness.'' Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat, offering him a tight smile.

''I know,'' he said fondly, grinning, ''and I get it. But isolating you is not gonna help. There's strength in number, so they say.''

Something like fluster crossed his face. A splash of color spread on his cheeks, barely noticeable in the sunset. The notion of Fox Mulder blushing was enough to ignite curiosity in her.

''What are you trying to say ?''

He twisted underneath her. She began to move away, but his arms clenched around her, keeping her locked in his embrace. Bewildered, she watched as he readjusted his hold on her, looking anywhere but at her.

''I guess,'' he began, licking his lips nervously, ''what I want you to know is that, when you feel powerless or overwhelmed or scared, I'm here for you. And maybe it's not like being in control, but you can lean on me.'' He inhaled deeply, unaware of the turmoil his words were causing in her mind. His eyes found hers, wide and almost pleading. ''Because, when I'm with you, I know you have my back no matter what. You have to know I have yours too.''

I feel powerful when I'm with you, he didn't say, but the words echoed between them as if he had shouted them.

''Mulder...''

And really, she had no idea what to say to him. But maybe it was alright, because he simply smiled, eyes shining with an adoration that made her dizzy.

''You're the strongest, bravest person I've ever known. There's few people who would be willing to take an hostage or straight up lie to their boss to protect their partner. Being afraid of heights is never going to change my opinion on you, no matter how embarrassing or unprofesionnal you think it is. I hope you know that.'' His face was inches from hers. From up close, his eyes seemed more blue than green. ''I may believe in UFOs, and shape-shifting men and psychic abilities, Scully, but most of all, I believe in you.''

Scully watched him, unable to conjure any words to express the emotions turning her mind upside down. She had always thought her devotion to him was unrequited, or at least, not to this extent. She remembered a time when she had said those exact words to him, knowing she was baring her heart to him.

Now, as he was doing the same for her, she could only allow the overflowing rush of love to invade her body and nestle against her heart.

She loved him. Plain and simple as that.

''Speechless is a good look on you, you should wear it more often.''

''Shut up.'' she laughed, curling her arms around his neck to press her cheek to his, relishing the shake of his chest as he chuckled with her.

''What a way to reply to my wonderfully sappy declaration,'' he said, lost between the space behind her ear, nerves lighting in pleasure at the sensation of his breath against her skin. '' I'm charmed.''

''Oh my God, Mulder, just shut up.''

He opened his mouth, but she leaned forward and shut him up with a kiss. She couldn't think of anything else to do, not when he said things like that and hold her like she was the only thing that mattered in the entire world.

His lips were warm and soft. One of them moaned at the contact. Her hands slid in his hair, enjoying the soft texture of his hair while he cupped her cheeks, pressing closer, mushing his nose against her skin in his haste to kiss her deeper.

It was their first kiss. It was in character for them both to have it while they were stuck in a ferris wheel after he passionately told her he believed in her to soothe one of her panic attack. Despite herself and the gravity of the moment, chuckles escaped her, and soon, they were both giggling like teenagers, drinking in each other's eyes.

His smile was so bright, making him look like a young boy again. ''You kissed me !''

She thought briefly of his shocked face when he woke up after she shot him and grinned.

''You left me no choice.''

Before he could reply, no doubt with one of his smartass remark, the cabin jerked sharply, throwing them both back against a window. A flare of panic burned in the tightening of her belly, but he pressed her against his lap again, gesturing to the outside of the wheel. To her surprise, the sky was moving away from them, its orange tint leaving place to the grey of concrete.

They were moving. Finally.

''Seems like we'll finally touch ground again.'' He turned towards her, smirking. ''Hallelujah.''

She was accutely aware that this was their last moment together before being sucked back into the case at hand. ''Mulder.''

''Hmm ?''

''I...'' What could she possibly say to express all her gratitude to him ? There were no words big enough to encompass all the love pulsing in her chest. So instead, she settled on saying, ''Thank you.''

''The pleasure was mine,'' he replied, brushing his fingers against her cheek. For a moment, they stayed like that, neither feeling the need to say or do anything. But, as the cabin shook one last time, he pushed her away gently with a shit-eating smile. ''Now, hop off or they're gonna believe we did the wild thing up above.''

She swatted his shoulder, unable to repress the laugh bubbling in her throat.

#txf #dana scully #fox mulder #msr #my writing #me being absolutely terrified i didn't write them in character #oh well

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scullysexual · 2 months

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You're Never Just Anything To Me (9)

@today-in-fic | ao3 | Prev. Chapter

A look into Mulder and Scully’s relationship starting from Millennium going all the way up to Requiem.

IX. X-Cops.

Since discovering the truth about Samantha, their relationship had evolved, changing for the better. Mulder no longer felt hunkered down or constantly obsessing over the event which took place almost 30 years ago. Scully no longer felt she was going to lose him. Work was as normal as it had ever been- they were still witnessing horrors and the paranormal on a weekly basis- but at home, they could really discuss their future together without the fear that it never happen. Skinner had also kept true to his word, never uttering anything about their relationship as long as they kept the personal away from the professional which they did, they found a easy balance between the two.

The ring still sat in Mulder’s drawer, he still hadn’t asked. He wanted to wait, when they learned that the IVF has worked, when they are overjoyed and smiling, after they fall into bed and believe the baby was conceived the natural way, that is when he’ll ask.

“When’s the appointment again?” Scully asks, the hairdryer in her hand. She waits until he’s answered before she turns it on.

“At 9:30. I’ll go into work late,” he answers. It was his first meeting with Dr Parenti today and, for some unexplainable reason, he felt nervous.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Scully had asked this when they first made the appointment. It felt unnecessary for her to go, she would only be waiting around.

Now, Mulder gives her the same answer. “I’ll be okay,” he says. “You go to work. We don’t want Skinner thinking we’re both skiving off.”

Scully grins. “No, we don’t.” And their conversation ends with the loud whirling of the hairdryer.

He sees her out the door when it’s time to go.

“Don’t have any fun without me,” he says smiling.

“If I ever could,” she replies back and Mulder knows she means it.

…

He is taken to a private room by one of the nurses and is given an opaque cup.

“Hand it in when you’re finished,” she says all professional.

Mulder nods and enters the room. The door is closed and he locks it. In the room there is a bed, a chair, and even off to the side a small bathroom. He opts for the chair, hoping the familiarity of a seat rather than the bed would make this easier for him. He closes his eyes, thinking back to this morning.

He had woken her up with his mouth on her breast. He couldn’t help it, the way it peaked out above the covers when she had rolled over. Scully let out a little breathy sigh, her hand coming to comb through his hair as he moved over to her other breast. She had stayed like that, dozing in and out of sleep while he made her body come alive.

His fingers dipped into her folds between her legs, feeling her wetness coat his fingers.

“It’s half 6 in the morning, Scully,” he says in surprise, two fingers venturing inside of her.

“Women go through cycles of arousal, too,” she answered sounding a little breathy.

He pulls his hand away from her, eliciting a small whine from Scully that he smiles at. He rolls her onto her back and positions himself between her legs.

There is no resistance, her body welcoming him into her. Her legs wrap around him and he can’t believe it, even after all this time, that this is Scully, his Scully, and that he gets to have her like this, love her like this, be with her like this.

Back in the little hospital room, Mulder furiously pumps up and down, he can feels her around him, the incredible heat of her, the perfect squeeze of her, her lips and her tongue in his mouth, on his neck. His balls clench and he comes, remembering at the last minute to aim into the cup.

His heart rate slows as he stares at the cup in awe. This is a baby, he thinks. Their baby.

…

Scully had had a very boring day. She had heard more rumours about an audit, as she had been hearing all year, but they were starting to get harder to ignore. Finally, she had asked Skinner and while her boss didn’t confirm the rumours, he didn’t deny them either.

It made her anxious and with nothing to do, no Mulder to distract her, Scully found her thoughts wandering. She reclines back on his chair, her bare feet propped up on his desk and stares at the pencils embedded in the ceiling tiles, counting down the minutes until Mulder returns.

There’s activity outside, the door is pushed open and Scully pulls her feet off the desk, slipping them back into her heels, and sits up straight.

Mulder gives her a weird look.

“Do you often make yourself at home when I’m not here?” he asks her, taking off his coat.

“Always,” Scully nods. She returns to feet, bare footed once again, to the top of the desk. “You gonna make me move?”

His eyes are dark. He sits down in the chair opposite. Her feet are near him and he reaches out to scrape the back of his nails down the centre of her sole. It tickles and her foot flexes in response. She coughs.

“How did the appointment go?”

“Pretty well,” he says, turning his attention back to her. “I thought about you.”

Scully feels herself growing hot but she tries to ignore it.

“Really?” she asks though she isn’t surprised.

“Yeah. I thought about this morning.”

“Did you?”

He nods. “And other mornings. And then I went to your apartment.”

This piques her interest.

“I took a shower and I thought about you again.”

She pictures him in her apartment, in her shower, masturbating to the thought of her. Did he squirt some of her body soap into his hand, did he come against the shower wall to the thoughts and smell of her. Scully adjusts herself in her seat, her can feel herself growing wet at the thought.

“I thought about you here,” he says and his voice is lower, his hand is back on her foot and the contact has Scully jumping. “I thought about what I would do to you in here.”

Of all of her rules, office sex was the one she had yet to allow be broken. She looks to the door. Lunchtime on a Tuesday afternoon people would probably be busy. If anyone wanted them (and really, who would) they would call down first.

“Lock the door,” Scully commands. Her throat feels dry and her heart pounds in her chest at what they’re about to do.

Mulder’s eyes widen and then are suddenly filled with triumphant glee as he bounds out of the chair and towards the door, taking out his keys and locking the door. He keeps his key in the door for extra measure.

Scully is about to ask just how he had pictured this. She knows it’s been a fantasy for a very long time- longer than he probably thinks she knows- but this is her rule and she has made the decision to break it, they’re going to do it her way, starting with his stupid desk.

She stands from the chair and moves around to the front of the desk. Mulder watches her, barely breathing, unable to move for fear this might be a mirage and one slight bit of movement would make the whole thing disparate.

Scully pulls off her underwear and sits on the edge of the desk. She spreads her legs slightly and can practically see Mulder salivating.

“What are you waiting for?”

He bounds towards her, his hands going for the belt unbuckle on his pants. She waits until he’s undone it and is about to move to the button of his pants before she stops him with a shake of her head. Disappointment is on the cusp and she points to the floor beneath her.

“Get on your knees,” she tells him and he does as she orders. She opens her legs wider and it takes no more commands for him to understand what she wants. His mouth is on her centre immediately.

Scully cries out at the first touch of his tongue. Doing it in here, on this very desk sends her into overdrive. She doesn’t want to lose the control but she can’t help but move her hips against his face, can’t help being loud when she knows she should probably not be. She wants to mark this desk, wants to come all over it, stain it as proof that she was here, has always been here, she wants Mulder to see it every day and be reminded that she belongs here too.

Her eyes open when he sucks her clit into his mouth. His fingers has joined his tongue, three of them, and they pump in and out of her. His other hand is around his cock, pumping in time to his thrusting fingers. It all sends her over.

She white-knuckles the edge of the desk, coming and coming and coming. There’s a hot rush, she hears Mulder’s “Holy shit!” as he briefly moves his mouth away only to place it against her again, licking every ounce of her up.

There’s a puddle on the desk and on the floor. Mulder is still kneeling between her legs, his dick now flaccid, his mouth covered in her. Scully falls back onto the desk, her legs still open, the tremors still running through her body.

“Holy fucking shit, Scully,” says Mulder. He zips himself up, he stands between her legs and leans down over her. “That was fucking incredible. Can we do it again?”

She doesn’t think she has another orgasm in her. She doesn’t think she’ll ever have one in her again but hell yeah does she want to do that again.

“Later,” she answers. “I need a minute.”

…

“Okay so what are we watching?” Scully asks as Mulder hands her a beer.

He was so happy he had won Rock, Paper, Scissors this week. Scully had been on a running streak for the past three and he was worried she would take this from him as well. As it transpires, his scissors cut her paper and he couldn’t be happier.

“It’s a bit different this week,” he says picking up the TV remote.

Scully looks at him with caution. “It better not be porn,” she warns.

Mulder laughs. “I haven’t watched porn in months. I’ve got you.” He smiles, a full teeth showing smile, at her.

“I’m flattered,” she answers dryly. “So what we are watching?”

He switches on the TV and normal TV starts playing. He begins flicking through, trying to find the right channel. He’s timed it just right as the Cops theme tune starts playing.

“No!” Scully says instantly. “No, we’re not watching this.” She goes for the remote but Mulder holds it out of reach.

“It’s only fair. I won this week, I get to decide what we watch.”

She is half on him, trying to reach the remote. “Mulder, I am breaking up with you right now.”

“Scully, you look great on TV,” says Mulder and Scully turns to find herself on the TV.

“Mulder!” she yells.

“Those cameraman loved you, Scully. They couldn’t get enough of you.”

She’s given up on her attempts to reach the remote and sits, grumpily, in the corner of the couch, far away from him.

“Because I was antagonistic,” she says with a pout and eyeing the TV as if it was the worst thing she’s ever seen. Then she softens. “I forgot the part where we almost got arrested. That was your fault.”

“I didn’t know they were there,” Mulder says defensively.

Scully smiles. “It was fun, though.”

“Yeah,” Mulder agrees. Then, “Definitely showing the kid this.”

“You wouldn’t?!”

“I would! Look child, Mommy and Daddy are famous.”

Mulder pauses then as the show goes to an ad break. He realises what he just said. A smile crosses his face, a similar one crosses Scully’s.

“I like that,” Scully says quietly.

He looks at her, for the first time seeing the mother of his child.

“Yeah, I like it to.”

He arranges another appointment with Dr Parenti the next day.

#the x-files #the x files #txf fic #xfiles fanfiction #season 7 #soss #scullysexualwrites

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