#love that even mulder knows that joke was bad

[bisexualfbiagents]

THE X FILES | Fox Mulder's Standup Comedy Demo Reel (part 2/?)

#the x files #txf #txfedit #xfilesnet #dailytxf #fox mulder #alex krycek #comedianmulder #mine #5x14 #the red and the black #kallypsos #usersilene #love that even mulder knows that joke was bad #sorry this looks like butthole the scene was literally pitch black lmao

[pagannatural]

2.07 The Usual Suspects

-Sam being interrogated about Dean is so so good because we get to see Sam being told that his brother is a scumbag criminal and the way he reacts by rolling his eyes like he’s heard this before. It’s almost like seeing a teenage version of Sam. The detective keeps telling him to throw Dean under the bus and the whole time he’s just giving attitude and plotting how to help Dean and work the case. He keeps looking out the window. Some of his reactions are raw and some are fake and some are both and his mind is running through his options assessing what to do and how to get out of this.

When confronted with the cliff notes on his and Dean’s life, Sam runs the gamut of emotion from sad and grief-stricken about Jessica to defending Dean and acting all scandalized to being a smartass, to whatever the hell this is when she says “it’s not your fault he’s your brother, we can’t pick our family”

The double meaning here. The not meeting her eyes, the tension on his face, the disdain. It’s giving Bitch don’t I fucking know it, yet I would choose him a thousand times and every time I would be a little bit miserable. “It’s not your fault he’s your brother, we can’t pick our [soul mates]” is probably what God tells him in his most comforting dreams.

-So the detective’s theory is what? That after a shared sordid serial killer childhood Sam escaped the life and then Dean murdered Sam’s girlfriend in a house fire to lure him back in and make him his crime wife?

Because I mean yeah I would read that AU. That fits their vibe pretty nicely.

-She says “Dean’s a bad guy….his life is over, yours doesn’t have to be” and Sam looks at her like that’s the dumbest thing he has ever heard.

She doesn’t know that they become sickly and depressed when they’re apart like a pair of bonded sewer kittens.

When she tells him he can get on with his life and Dean’s as good as gone you can almost see him tuning her out and calculating how to lie about this.

-Sam starts on his cover story, using his trademark Sweet-Innocent face. He relies on his charms and on appearing helpless to manipulate people into doing what he wants. He would’ve learned to do this when he was a child as a survival skill, and I can just imagine how well this complemented Dean’s tough but earnest seduction thing. Acting sweet and helpless when you’re actually savvy and resourceful is a trope commonly used in female characters. These traits (innocence, sweetness, feigned helplessness) are associated with women gaining/utilizing agency in the ways available to them.

Because narratively, Sam is the girl. It’s stuff like this, plus the way he’s depicted as Dean’s tempting damsel in distress in other episodes. It increases the sexual tension between Sam and Dean when they rely on these archetypes because we know what it means when two leads are masculine and feminine, when they need each other and the plot hinges on their conflict. It means they’re the love interests.

-Dean makes a joke about Sam being Scully, and Sam’s like I’m not Scully you’re Scully, and Dean says “No I’m Mulder. You’re a red headed woman.” Really spelling it out.

Dean is smirking and making prolonged eye contact and just— he’s flirting. There’s a Bruce Springsteen song titled “Red Headed Woman” about how “it takes a red headed woman to get a dirty job done.” I have no idea if this is what Dean’s referencing or if it’s just a Scully reference but it’s a very specific thing to say and Sam is brunette. The song is very suggestive.

-Dean HATES waiting around while Sam works. Within seconds he becomes insufferable and has to leave to go do something, flirting with Sam again on his way out.

-“Sam’s story matches Dean’s to the last detail” they didn’t even SEE each other before talking to police! They’re just so connected that they tell the same exact story. Then they both work on the case in their separate interrogation rooms using different methods and arrive at the same conclusion at the same time. They also make the same joke about their public defender.

-I keep seeing this post about who knew Dean better, Sam or Castiel, and I just want to point out that these two are so in sync they can essentially read each others minds.

-We have an outsider perspective on their lives and relationship a few times this episode, and the detectives comment more than once on how weirdly connected the brothers are. Like, Dean communicates to Sam via movie reference to escape and Sam is already all over that, he’s been assessing how to climb out the window since his first scene.

-Dean tells the detective to go to Sam so that Sam can save her life, giving her their info on “how we find each other when we’re separated.” That’s very practical. It’s also true that when they aren’t together they are obsessed with finding each other and making sure they know exactly where the other is at all times. They must have felt so untethered when Sam was at Stanford. I’m imagining Sam going on a little trip over spring break and feeling like he’s forgetting something really important and starting to panic only to realize it’s just that Dean won’t know where he is.

#samdean #supernatural #spn meta #sam and dean #wincest #spn 2x07

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 10/34 - new years rockin' eve

[Read on AO3]

After the pleasant, downright normal Christmas they'd had, Mulder wasn't surprised that their New Years Eve was spent being chased by zombies like something out of one of his bad horror flicks.

He did, however, get to spend it with Scully, which was all he really could have asked of the day.

Their first few days back at work had been pretty run-of-the-mill. The traffic in the hallways was a little lighter, with some agents taking additional days off until after the new year. They used their slow days to complete the adoption paperwork and send it in, which allowed them to put it out of their minds so they could finally focus on work.

Aside from Skinner briefly asking in passing if they'd actually done it (trying his hardest to appear only mildly interested), it was easy to forget the monumental step they'd taken over the holidays. Their rings remained safely tucked under their clothes while on the job, but when he was at home, Mulder liked to wear it in its intended place, finding it helped him focus his thoughts when he twisted it idly on his finger.

A mangled arm was a small price to pay for ringing in the new year with his partner by his side, all things considered. A happy ending for all, most especially for Frank Black and his daughter.

Scully watches as the older man wraps the girl in his arms, burying his face in her hair. It's a sweet sight, but something about it makes her grow pensive, her expression darkening.

“What kind of world would we be bringing a child into, Mulder?” she asks quietly, unable to tear her eyes away from the little family as they leave the room hand in hand.

Her words surprise him in their negativity, drawing a halfhearted chuckle from his throat. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Scully, but adoption usually means we’re getting a kid that’s already in the world, doesn’t it?

Her shoulders deflate a little and she casts an unamused glance in his direction, looking far more vulnerable than she typically allows herself to be.

“You know what I mean.”

He does. Of course he does.

“Well, it’s the same world people have been bringing children into for millennia,” he reasons. “And now we’re about to be in a whole new one.”

He nods back at the TV screen, tuned in to Dick Clark's coverage of Times Square. All those people, completely oblivious to the dangers lurking in this world that defy logic and reason. Zombies are the last thing on any of their minds as they count down to the new year. 

“But I believe mankind, in its essence, stays the same,” he finishes.

He'd faced this question months and months ago when Scully had asked him about IVF. Was this a life he could bring a child into? Was he a person worthy of being a father, even if only by genetics? The conclusions he'd come to had not been arrived at lightly.

“We can do this, Scully,” he says, softer. Sure. “We might have to make some changes, but… when it comes down to it, you and I are no different than anyone else wanting to raise a child.”

She gives him a disbelieving look, her eyebrow quirking into the air. He knows what she’s thinking; The reanimated corpses they'd just encountered would like a word.

“No, think about it,” he continues. “What's the one thing all parents—well, the good ones—have in common?” His question is semi-rhetorical, and she doesn't seem inclined to respond, so he answers for her. “They want what's best for their children, and they do all that they can to provide it to them because they love them. Now, I don't know about you, but I'm pretty willing to do just that. And I think you are too, if these are the things you're worried about.”

Scully sighs, looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes. “Mulder…”

“I promise to protect you and any children we may acquire from zombies and all other supernatural forces of evil, okay? Is that what you want to hear?” he adds, his joke finally drawing a smile out of her.

“Don't call it 'acquiring,’ Mulder,” she says with a breathy laugh. “That's weird.”

With the mood successfully lightened, he turns his attention back to the TV, where Dick Clark is beginning to count down.

“The world’s a-changing, Scully,” he says as he moves closer, tilting his head up to watch the broadcast. She mirrors him, standing close by his side.

“Thirty seconds, now. Thirty,” Dick Clark announces as the camera hones in on the Times Square ball, lit up in bright colors as it begins its descent. “Hug your friends and loved ones tight. What the heck, whoever that person is next to you. No time like the present!”

Now there's an idea…

“Here we go!” the announcers chant.

Ten!

Mulder looks down to his left. Well, she is standing next to him, after all. Why not?

Nine.

She's smiling. She has a beautiful smile, too. He's always thought so.

Eight… Seven… Six…

New Year's Eve is plausible deniability, right? If this doesn't work? Maybe there's a written rule somewhere he can check…

Five, four.

Well, it’s not like they haven’t done it before…

Three. Two.

Is this a stupid idea?

One.

Without further ado, Dick Clark's voice cheers, “Happy New Year 2000!” and Mulder makes his decision, leaning toward her with purpose. No turning back now.

She catches him at the last second, and by then it's too late to play it off. The only option is to follow through.

And follow through he does.

His eyes flutter closed as his lips make contact with hers, their touch light and tentative as it had been in the courtroom just a week before, only this time, he waits a moment longer to pull back. Her hand reaches up to cup his cheek, and it immediately sends his heart pounding into his throat, and he finds he can't speak. Auld Lang Syne is playing, but the sound fades from his ears.

The only thing his senses can hear, feel, taste, smell, is her.

When he opens his eyes again, she is staring at him, an unreadable expression on her face. Her hand hasn't moved, and neither does he.

“I—”

“Mulder, I—

Whatever words he was trying to conjure to explain himself die on his lips in an instant, and he can do nothing but gape at her. The air feels charged, and all at once he wishes he'd never done it and that he'd done it years ago.

His eyes flick down to her lips and then back to her eyes, desperate to know what words will come out of them next.

“I– got a call from the adoption agency,” she finishes, and his thoughts come crashing back to the present, his heartbeat pounding at an alarming rate. However he'd thought she might finish that sentence, that wasn't it. 

She's looking at him though, worry flickering in her eyes.

“Th– the adoption agency?” he asks, his good hand slackening its hold on her lower back.

She nods.

“What did they say?”

Suddenly he feels nauseous, like maybe the mixture of zombies, drugs, and potentially life changing news was a little too much for his stomach all in one night.

“They… said that our application looks good, and they want to schedule a preliminary interview.”

At this, even his fingers on his injured arm have to reach out to her, brushing against the fabric of her shirt at her waist and stretching his sling to its limit.

“What?”

She nods again in confirmation, looking equal parts scared and excited.

“Scully that's– that's great news! It's good news, right?”

He doesn't know what he'll do if she gets cold feet now. A crushing blow like that isn't exactly how he'd like to start out this century, much less the millennium. 

Her hand drops to his shoulder and she smiles, holding tight to him.

“It's good,” she confirms, though a trace of doubt still remains in her voice.

He pulls her into a hug, resigning his poor limp arm to be stuck uncomfortably between them, but otherwise holding her tight.

“Mulder, we're actually going through with this?” she asks into his shoulder.

He nods emphatically, a wide grin stretching his face. “Heck yeah, Scully!”

“They could still tell us no.”

His little pessimist. Good thing he's got enough belief for the both of them.

“Not until they've seen us and we've pled our case,” he says, pulling back to look at her. “Call ‘em back and make an appointment!”

Tears begin to pool in her eyes and she nods shakily again. “Okay,” she says, and releases his shoulder to wipe the wetness beneath her eyes. “Okay, I’ll– um… I’ll call them tomorrow.”

He wants to kiss her again. He wants to so bad, but he doesn't. Emotions are understandably high, and this entire situation is so confusing and complicated already, that he's not sure anymore where they stand.

One day, he thinks. One day he'll find the courage.

“Hey, Scully,” he says instead, placing his hand on the back of her neck to capture her attention. 

She looks up at him tearfully. He shrugs and smiles goofily, relief and hope shining in his eyes.

“The world didn't end.”

~~~

Should I? Oh, why not. One more chapter. It's the weekend.

Chapter 11/34 - confessions

The interview with the adoption agency is scheduled for Friday of that week, which Skinner happily approves time off for. That leaves less than six days to prepare, and Scully busies herself with making sure they have everything they could possibly need to maximize their chances.

The night before the big day, Mulder is ordered to come over for a last minute study session (not that he would have been unwilling if she’d asked nicely, but with the stress she’s under, it comes out as more of a command). It feels like Arcadia again, going under cover, making sure they both have their stories straight.

Only this time, their cover is more or less their real life, give or take a few necessary oversimplifications.

“So, we’ve covered employment, medical history, familial relationships…” Scully lists, kneeling beside an array of papers spread out on her coffee table. “Am I leaving anything out?”

She bites the tip of her pen, glancing over her notes with her brows furrowed in thought. Reviewing this stuff could mean the difference between a happily ever after and rejection, that’s the scariest thing. She just wants to be thorough, and Mulder—bless him—has humored her thus far, answering questions, finding solutions to explain their… less than ordinary pasts. 

It takes her a moment to notice when he doesn’t immediately answer, the silence dragging on just a little too long. Her first assumption is that he’s fallen asleep—which she wouldn’t blame him for if he did—but that assumption is quashed the moment she looks up at him on the couch, the serious expression on his face instantly shifting the mood.

“Mulder?” she asks, a worried crease appearing on her forehead.

"You know, we never talked about it," he says quietly, carefully, glancing across the coffee table at her. “Not really.”

"About what?" She’s starting to get anxious.

"The IVF."

And there they are, the three letters that still fill her stomach with dread and immense sadness anytime she hears them.

I. V. F. 

"Mulder..." she starts, but he only leans forward, reaching out across the coffee table for her hand.

"I want to. I really do, Scully. I need to talk about it. It could come up tomorrow."

"I don't really like... thinking about it,” she says softly, wanting desperately to look away from the pleading expression that she knows she can’t say no to.

"I know. But don't you think we should?” he argues. “I mean, we can't brush it away like it never happened, Scully, I won't do that. It was important to me."

She doesn’t want to hear this. Her heart twists painfully, and she slams her eyes shut to lock down the tears beginning to form, shaking her head. Sure, she knows he’d wanted it back then, had hoped it would succeed. But it’s too late. It’s in the past, and she’d like to leave it there, if at all possible. To hear him say, in as many words, exactly how much he’d invested emotionally in those tiny embryos…

She doesn’t think her heart can take it.

"Since when do you like talking about things like this?" she asks, trying once to pull her hand away. “Things that… cause you pain?”

He clings on tighter, rubbing soothing circles on the back of her hand with both of his. "I can tell you the exact moment, Scully, and it’s when you knocked on my door in a dingy motel room and asked me what those bumps on your back were."

His earnest words stun her into silence.

Rain on the windows. A story of tragedy and determination. Honest words coming from the lips of a man she’d met only days before.

That trust had been there from the start.

He stands from his place on the couch and circles the coffee table, carefully pushing aside the papers in front of her to make a space for himself to sit. "The past hurts, but somehow—” he continues, “somehow you make it easier to face. To me, at least."

She sighs, turning her head so that she can muster enough strength to answer his heartfelt plea. Articulating something like this is not her strong suit, but for him, she’ll try.

"I– I've never wanted anything more in my life,” she breathes, the admission one she has never spoken aloud. 

It’s the truth, though, and he knows better than anyone how difficult that is for her. Scully is not one for dreaming big, expecting rich blessings from the earth or her life. She, like him, has grown used to being disappointed, to having the things she wants taken away from her. He could make an itemized list, if he wanted to, of all the ways they’d been let down. Even the expectation of a clean, comfortable motel room has been slowly drained from her, and yet she had still allowed herself to hope in this.

“You know, for a minute, I really did think it had worked, that I was—" She pauses, leaving the word pregnant to hang in the air. Instead, she takes a shaky breath and continues. "Do you remember that day I got sick in the car on the way to a crime scene?"

She doesn’t have to specify which one, because it had only ever happened once, that was what was so odd about it.

"I thought that was it,” she says, “I thought that maybe—"

"I thought the same thing," Mulder cuts in.

Of course he had. She’d guessed as much that day, too, between bouts of heaving into a plastic bag in the front seat of their rental car. 

The way he treated her extra carefully, taking turns slower, making a point to turn on the blinker with every lane change on the highway, stopping at a gas station for some ginger ale… She had allowed it all, too—the special treatment—because what if she was? She couldn’t risk it until she knew for sure. If that was her only chance…

Her lower lip trembles and she ducks her head. "I tried to keep my expectations low, but..."

His finger lands on her chin, tipping her gaze back up to face his.

"It would have been pretty cool, huh?” he says, offering her a small smile for comfort. “Can you imagine telling Skinner out of nowhere that we combined our DNA in a petri dish? I think the vein in his head might have actually burst.” He laughs, and is graced with the smallest of smirks for his efforts.

"I'd have these dreams,” she continues. “What our baby might look like, what personality they'd have. Whether they'd… be more like me or like you."

His lips. Her hair. His passion. Her scientific mind.

"Well, hopefully you,” Mulder speaks, smiling at the thought. “I think you've got your hands full already with one of me. There are many who would say you were crazy even to ask me in the first place."

She looks up at him with her head tilted, her eyes softening.

"I knew what I was doing."

She can tell by the way he brushes off the compliment that he doesn’t believe her, so she doubles down.

"I'm serious, Mulder. You're brilliant, imaginative, bold, caring... I wouldn't have chosen you if I didn't want my child to share those same qualities."

She loves Mulder. She loves every infuriating little thing about him. She'd have been lucky to have a son or daughter with his kind, gentle personality, his determination to keep fighting when everything in his life is telling him he can't win. Teena Mulder didn't know what she had, with Fox Mulder as a son. He should have been loved, cared for, nurtured, supported all his life. Instead, Scully has the sense that the first and only person he has trusted to give him all that is her, and that is not a responsibility she takes lightly.

"I pictured this little boy,” he says, his lips curled in a sad smile as he speaks. “Dark sandy blond hair with just a hint of your red. Blue eyes just like yours. Jeans absolutely filthy with dirt and grass stains on the knees."

She closes her eyes, allowing the picture to form in her mind. She smiles, but it's pained. Such a beautiful thought, never to be.

"How can I miss someone so much that I don't even know?” she asks, the hurt audible in her voice. “Someone that never existed?"

Mulder presses his lips tightly together in thought, his eyes trailing over the room. 

"They say that grief is the love we have that has nowhere to go, because that person has left us,” he starts, his voice reverent and pensive. “They never talk about how to love a person we never had in the first place, or a dream that’s just out of reach. But still, I think that love feels just as real as any other kind.”

He has a way with words, her Mulder. It has been the bane of their assistant director’s existence on numerous occasions, when such existential ponderings found their way into his reports.

But now… Well, it's just another thing she loves about him. She wonders if he's allowed himself to grieve for Samantha, or if his belief that she's still out there somewhere makes him fall into that second category.

"I just wish I hadn't put us both through that,” she says. “That I dragged you into it..."

"I'm glad you did,” he’s quick to assure. “Scully, that day you asked me was one of the happiest days of my life. The future is such a messy, terrifying thing, sometimes. You showed me that it doesn't have to be that way. That there can be hope. I'd forgotten what that felt like."

She's silent, unsure of what to say in response to that. He has all the right words, and suddenly, she has none of them.

"I don't regret it for one moment, Scully. We gave it a try."

She purses her lips, forcing back tears that are threatening to spill. "I don't think I could have done it without you," she says, shaking her head. 

"Well, obviously,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a cheeky smile.

She gives him a look. "Mulder…"

"I know, I know,” he says, turning serious again. “I'm honored that you let me be a part of it." 

That she would have let him be a part of so much more. A family. Everything, if he had wanted it.

"Well, listen,” he continues, “we ace this interview tomorrow, and we're back on track. Plenty of kids out there that need a home, right? Someone's bound to pick us."

His optimism emboldens her. "I hope so."

"We got this, Scully. They're gonna take one look at you and know for certain that you're meant to be a mother."

She distracts herself from his sweet-sounding words by focusing her attention on his loosened necktie, smoothing it down with one hand. "I'm picking out your tie,” she declares. “No alien decals or wild shapes and colors."

"I think it shows personality," he says in mock defense.

She can’t help the fond smile she flashes at him, glancing up into his eyes. "Not tomorrow, it doesn't."

-.-.-

The agency they ended up going with is out in Annapolis, so on the day of their interview, they drive out together, mostly in silence. Scully fidgets with the folder full of information and other documents they might need, picking at the corner of it while she goes over the important points in her head.

Mulder holds the door open for her when they arrive at the building, and she double checks that her ring is in place on her finger before approaching the front desk to check in. They’re instructed to take a seat in the small waiting area, and Mulder follows and sits down beside her. On the coffee table in front of them are a stack of brochures, the same one she found on Mulder’s desk what feels like forever ago. That had been the catalyst for this entire affair, and now look where they are.

She never could have imagined it.

A few minutes later, a plump older woman appears from behind a door, smiling at them warmly. 

“Alright, Mr. and Mrs. Mulder?” she says, checking her clipboard.

Scully stands, followed by Mulder. “I, uh– I go by my maiden name. Scully,” she corrects.

“My apologies, Ms. Scully,” the woman says, leading them into her office and taking a seat behind a wooden desk. 

They sit down in a pair of chairs opposite her, taking in their surroundings. There are dozens of thank you cards lined up on the windowsill behind the woman’s desk, presumably from families who have benefitted from the services offered here. It fills her with a cautious hope, though does nothing to quell the restless feeling that has plagued her since she woke up this morning. Mulder has kept his cool, so far, and she wonders how he does it.

“My name's Brenda Koske,” the woman continues, introducing herself. “I’ll be your case manager throughout this process. Should we just get right into it, then?”

They nod, unable to do any more than that at the moment.

“Okay, then,” Brenda says with a beaming smile, opening up a file folder on her desk. “So, tell me about yourselves, what made you look into adoption?”

"Well," Scully says, looking at Mulder for approval. "I– We found out a few years ago that I am unable to have children. We tried in vitro fertilization last year, but... it wasn't successful."

The woman at the desk nods and jots some information down in a notebook. Scully suspects their story, so far, is a familiar one. 

"And how long have you been together?"

Scully's mouth drops open, but she isn't sure what she'll say. Before she has a chance to stammer something out, Mulder answers, "A little over seven years, now." He’s confident. Sure of his answer, despite it being a lie, or at least an egregious stretching of the truth. 

The case manager writes down some more.

"And I see here that Ms. Scully has petitioned for the adoption of a child before. Emily Sim?" she states, checking her notes.

Scully tenses, and Mulder puts a calming hand on her knee.

"It's a long story," he says, answering for her, "but Emily unfortunately passed away from her chronic illness before the adoption proceedings could get very far."

Brenda nods. "I understand that this is a difficult subject, Mr. Mulder, I'm just trying to get all the information I need. From what I see here, this child was the biological child of Ms. Scully. I'm afraid I need more of an explanation."

She knows Ms. Koske doesn’t mean any harm by asking these questions—after all, they’d prepared for them last night. But it’s still hard to hear them come up.

Thankfully, Mulder was paying attention and is more than willing to take the lead.

"My wife was treated for her infertility by a doctor we couldn't trust,” he explains. She still finds it odd to hear him refer to her in that way, but it makes sense that he does it now. He can’t very well call her ‘Scully’ in front of the woman they’re trying to convince to give them a child. 

Now comes the next part of their explanation. 

“Her ova were stolen and used without her knowledge or consent, and Emily was a result of that. It was complete happenstance that we even discovered what happened."

"I'm very sorry you went through that, Ms. Scully," the woman says, looking genuinely sorry for her. "Quite a world we live in."

You have no idea , Scully thinks, and nods in recognition of Ms. Koske’s expression of sorrow.

"And you're married?" she asks next, her pen hovering over a checkbox on the form in their file.

"Yes, just recently,” Scully answers. The box gets checked.

"Congratulations! Why the long wait, if I may ask?" Brenda says.

“I ask myself that every time I look at her,” Mulder says while leveling her with his adoring gaze. He’s dialing up the married man act, which he is definitely within his rights to do, but it still catches her off guard. She hopes he doesn’t overdo it, risking tipping off their case manager.

"It, um– It never really seemed like something necessary for us to do," Scully answers, ignoring his sickly sweet comment and hiding her blush.

Mulder turns back to Brenda and adds, "But we figured, if adoption works out..."

"We'd like to make it as simple and straightforward as possible," Scully finishes.

"It certainly will help," the agent says, nodding as she jots down another note. "Where would the child be living?"

"I– We have an apartment in Georgetown.” Scully’s heart flutters anxiously at the close call, thankful she was able to correct herself before misspeaking.

"An apartment," the woman says as she adds that to her notes. It's impossible to tell if she means it in a good or bad way, and Scully can’t make out her handwriting enough to tell.

"I have money set aside from my father's estate," Mulder cuts in, causing Scully to look at him in confusion. "We'd eventually like to buy a house, if this works out." This wasn’t something they’d talked about in any of their previous discussions, nor has he ever mentioned it before, so she doesn’t know where it’s coming from. When she catches his eye, he gives her a subtle shrug.

They’ll have to talk about this later.

"I'll put down the Georgetown address for now," Brenda says, smiling encouragingly at them. "Just a couple more questions for now, you guys are doing great." Scully exhales in relief, her shoulders relaxing just a little. "I have to ask about your work. Your medical history tells me that your jobs put you in some pretty dangerous situations. What are your plans should a child be placed into your care?"

Mulder nods and squeezes Scully's hand, encouraging her. They'd planned for this, too.

"I plan to take a step back,” she answers, “I've spoken with our boss, and he's assured me that I could return to a teaching position at Quantico while serving part time in my current department as a consultant."

"Mr. Mulder?" Brenda says, turning to him next.

"I will be doing the same."

Scully looks at him incredulously, which the woman thankfully misses. 

"It's time for us to settle down,” he continues, avoiding her questioning stare. “I think we've accomplished most of what we set out to do with our work, and we can't keep doing it forever, especially if we want to start a family. I've talked to our director about seeking out replacements for the both of us. Someone else will take over the department, while we lend our expertise as needed to the new agents."

This is the first she’s hearing about this too, but she wisely keeps her mouth shut, letting him say whatever he needs to say. Starting an argument about this now would not tip things in their favor. 

But he can’t be serious about giving up the X-Files, can he? It hadn’t even crossed her mind to ask. Arguably the main reason he started the unit was to look into the disappearance of his sister, and that case remains unsolved. Would he just walk away? Would he resent her for it eventually, if he did? 

"I'm glad to hear you're making strides in that direction,” Brenda comments, a pleased smile gracing her lips. “I was afraid we wouldn't be able to consider your application on account of your chosen field of work, but it sounds like you’re serious about starting a family.”

She writes some more and it falls silent. Mulder wraps his other hand around Scully's, bringing comfort and reassurance to them both.

"Last thing—and I'm sorry to keep bringing up difficult topics—” Brenda starts again. “Ms. Scully, you were diagnosed with cancer three years ago. Is there any chance it could return? You understand why I have to ask, don't you?"

"Yes– I understand,” Scully nods, swallowing nervously. “Um, no, I've been told there's little reason to think it will ever come back. I've been in remission over two years now."

Brenda nods and makes a final note, her pen leaving the paper with a flourish. "That's great, I'm so happy to hear that." She closes her notebook and file and smiles. "Well, you two, it sure sounds like you're overdue for a happy ending. Hopefully we can do something about that." 

She shakes each of their hands in turn, standing up from the desk to escort them out. 

"It was a pleasure to meet you, we'll be in touch as soon as your application is approved, and then we'll start looking for potential matches."

"Thank you very much, Ms. Koske," Mulder says, the perfect picture of a responsible adult worthy of becoming a parent.

Scully mumbles her own "Thank you," too overwhelmed to manage more words than that.

Mulder places a hand on her back and leads her out of the office and into the hall, standing closer to her than he usually does when they walk this way. His neck bends so he can see her face, and he whispers, "You hear that, Scully? She said when our application gets approved!"

Scully shakes her head, not wanting to get ahead of herself quite yet. 

"She said 'as soon as', not when,” she corrects.

"Same thing,” he argues. “Come on, that went well, don't you think?"

"I hope so," she says.

His stride is confident and energetic. "It did, trust me. We had all the right answers."

"I was so nervous. I knew she would ask about my cancer," she states, shaking her head in disappointment.

"She was just being thorough,” Mulder assures her. “Cheer up, Scully, the part we had to worry about is over! I'm taking you to lunch."

"Mulder, we really should just get back to work—” Scully tries. She’s supposed to be the responsible one, after all. Reining him in. Wasn’t that why she complemented him so well?

"We're celebrating. One step closer to being parents, right Scully?"

It’s time she admits it to herself: she failed at reining him in years ago.

Now, she just goes with the flow. The best surprises are around the corner when she does so. 

She hopes that this time is no different.

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @gillian-anderson-in-the-tardis @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption

[carefulfears]

literally thinking about how mulder is the softest man. and he loves beautifully. he's so focused on his quest because of how much he loves samantha, and his parents. he tries to hope, desperately, that samantha is alive & he'll find her even though he knows how unlikely it is. and without scully, it would have taken him much longer to face it. no one ever looked into the darkness with him or loved samantha with him or believed in him so much they always followed him & stayed present with him in those really difficult moments he couldn't get away from the grief. and everything scully does for him, he returns. he responds to how she cares, and her boundaries. and they talk but they don't really talk, so he toes the line. he's always checking in with her.

the x-files is about love because everything mulder does is through love does everybody get it!! god, it’s just so major to me, that he’s this iconic sci-fi hero who’s just 100% grounded in kindness and generosity. there’s nothing hiding around the corner. he’s not the bad boy in the basement, he’s not the maverick with a secret heart of gold, he’s just fucking nice. he cares about people. he sees people. he wants to help. he loves his sister. loves his shitty parents. loves his evil ex-partners and ex-wife. loves his friend. there’s always something deeper in mulder, but it’s always just pain. he’s not hiding anything away. he refuses to let go of anything, but never wants anyone to fall into the same trap, his or their own. he tells traumatized women who’ve been abused and imprisoned that he needs their help, that they’re capable of contributing, that he wants to know what they think. while every other cop tries to lock them up. he feels every loss, carries every ghost, never stops trying.

i just watched irresistible again, and god. the way that he pulls scully aside and tells her, it’s okay to be affected. it’s normal. “i’ve seen agents with 20 years fall apart on cases like this.” he doesn’t say that it’s because she’s a woman (like the cop in 2shy does) or because she’s young or because she’s traumatized. he never brings up her recent abduction. he just tells her that it’s okay to need space, that she can talk to him.

and scully is trying so fucking hard to be that perfect navy captain’s daughter. that girl who straightened before looking up at her father to say goodnight. that girl who, as her mother says, has “always been the strong one.”

and she tries to be the strong one. she takes a step back. she goes to therapy. she tells her therapist that she trusts her partner more than anyone, but she does not want him to know that she’s struggling. when she decides to come back, and calls him, she plays it off with a joke. (like he does). “besides, you could use my help.” when he responds, “always.” it’s so earnest and direct, without breaking her cover or stepping out of the box she created. yes, of course, agent scully. come help.

in the end, she can barely choke out that “i’m fine,” her signature move. he doesn’t say a word. he tips her chin so slightly, so that she looks at him. it’s one of the most special moments of the series, to me, the way she just breaks when she sees him. grabs him and sobs. and how you can just barely hear him whisper: “it’s alright.”

the police are still cleaning up the scene around them. i don’t think we ever see her do that again, in front of other people. but we do see her do it with him, when they’re alone, because she knows she can. that strong captain’s daughter. it’s like someone talked about on one of your posts before: scully has to be put together. she has to be the strong one. she’s trying to maintain a fragile place in “the boy’s club” (she talks about this herself). she’s trying to present respectability and a certain image.

and maybe she does have to be that person, for her parents, for her brother, for the FBI, the doctors. but mulder thinks that it’s okay to be affected. he just wants her to be able to talk about it. he wants to see her vulnerability, and shield it. in that house in minneapolis, his face breaks, but he just holds her and whispers. and she rarely falls into it, but she knows that she can, since the motel room in bellefleur. and that means something.

it’s just impossible not to soften around him. and that’s something really special, for scully, for the victims and witnesses he works with. he values their help, he already views them as strong, he wants them to express everything that they’re feeling. he believes it helps.

(mulder has said that line too, “you’re the strong one.” - to lucy householder when she was crying in the dirt)

this show was always realistic. you do have to present a certain image. most people are gonna think you’re young and weak and traumatized and stupid. but it also centered this whole thing around this one person that didn’t require any of that, and that’s why it works. why it’s so special.

#wholly and completely in love with agent mulder tonight etc etc #that CC quote. the show not being dark because mulder and scully are the light in dark places. #i literally am not even sorry for being such a weepy apologist all the time because he just deserves it like. i could’ve gone on #for 70 more pages. i cut myself off. i reined it in. #asks #irresistible

[baronessblixen]

Family Principles

Day 3 for the Eight Nights of Mulder: celebration and my prompt for the 24 Days of X-Mas Files Challenge: family Christmas with separate beds

Summary: They're spending Christmas at Mrs. Scully's house and Mulder is in for a surprise. (AU, fluffy fluff, William is there; wc: 715)

Tagging @today-in-fic @eightnightsofmulder

She should pinch herself, just to make sure she isn't dreaming. In many ways, this Christmas feels like a fantasy. One she had many, many years ago. But it's real, all of it.

Over there, surrounded by a few of her mother's neighbors, stands Mulder. He's grinning from ear to ear, quickly becoming the star of the party. At least as long as their son is napping.

William is without a doubt the not-so-secret superstar of this holiday get-together. With his dimples and his charming smile, he wraps everyone around his little finger. Including her grinchy brother, who tried his damnest not to be swayed. He lasted all of five seconds before he, too, oohed and awwed at his nephew.

"I saw you staring at me." Mulder's voice is a soft murmur as he puts his arms around her, holding her close. She must have been so lost in thought that she didn't even notice him walk over to her. "Do I have something on my face?" He nuzzles her neck, making her giggle.

"You do," she says, swatting at his hand. They may have been a couple for a while, but here, in front of everyone and her family, their public display of affection is new and she doesn't yet know how she feels about it. "You're grinning."

"I'm happy," he says simply. "Your mother throws great parties."

"She invited you every year," Scully reminds him. The first few times she asked him she wondered whether it was because of Christmas. But he never celebrated Hanukkah either. A fact they're planning to change next year so that William can learn about the festival, too.

"I'm a late bloomer." His lips graze the shell of her ear and she shivers. "Do you think anyone would notice if we snuck away?"

"They might." Though she's not sure she cares. "William will wake up soon, though."

"I can be patient," he promises, kissing her cheek. "We have all night."

"If you're prepared to sneak around." Mulder's confused pout makes her smile. She hasn't had time to speak to him about the sleeping arrangements yet. And he's not going to like what she has to say.

"My mom decided to put us in separate bedrooms." Mulder stares at her as if expecting her to admit she's making a joke. "She said, and I quote, she can't let us share a bedroom in good consciousness." Her mother loves Mulder, and she dotes on her youngest grandchild, but she's a woman with principles. One of which is no shared rooms and beds when unmarried.

"Is it because of what I said earlier?" When her mother and Father McCue talked about baptizing William, Scully intervened, saying they weren't sure yet what to do, with Mulder being half Jewish. And his skepticism towards organized religion, but she kept that tidbit to herself. Both her mother and Father McCue had looked surprised and then Mulder decided to call William a religious remix, which caused a few more shocked gasps from both of them.

"Surprisingly not," Scully says. "It's because we're not married."

"Well, I'm sure we can find someone here to change that. We have a priest, a rabbi, and a pastor. This could also be the beginning of a bad joke. This is a joke, right?" Scully shakes her head, and Mulder pouts fully.

"She knows we live together," Mulder says and she nods. "We have a child together." She nods again. "She knows that we- you know."

"Not in her house." He sighs loudly.

"What if I promise her to marry you as soon as possible? I'm gonna ask. You know what? I'm gonna use Willam to argue. He's my secret weapon." He kisses her mouth, his grin returning. He runs off like she's used to, but for once, she doesn't mind one bit.

She just watches as members of her family pat Mulder's back, or engage him in short conversations. Everyone loves him. And he basks in the attention. She knows one Christmas won't erase the years he suffered, where he was alone - sometimes by choice. But it's a beginning.

She knows that her mother won't change her mind about the sleeping arrangements, but she also knows that no matter what, they will find a way to be together tonight.

#ficmas2023 #this one was so much fun to write #they will spend more time with the scully family #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

[oohnotvery]

Wherever Is Your Heart (Chapter 3)

A breakfast of toast and coffee helps soothe her stomach some, and an aspirin does the trick for her headache, but nothing can stop the anxious pounding of her heart.

She debates calling Mulder. Her brain tries to come up with a million reasons why it’s not as bad as it seems. Maybe he was drunk too and doesn’t remember much of it. Maybe she didn’t say or do all of the things she thinks she said and did. Maybe it was all just a horrendous nightmare, and she cabbed home by herself and then had a very vivid dream about trying to seduce Mulder.

Mulder.

Oh . . . god. Her one and only friend, her partner, her family. All of that, ruined in one terrible, mortifying stretch of evening.

Simply put, he told her no. Whether that was because she was drunk or because he simply didn’t want her, she fears she’ll never truly know.

For the millionth time since Melissa’s death, Scully wishes she could talk to her sister. To ask her what to do about this heartbreak, this humiliation, this rejection, this mortification.

How can she and Mulder possibly continue on after this? Every time he looks at her from now on, she’ll see his pity, his rejection, his secondhand embarrassment for her. Things will never be the same.

All morning, she debates calling him and apologizing. Really, that needs to be her first step. She acted out of line and if she wants any chance at salvaging the relationship, a properly worded phone call will do the trick.

But she can’t bring herself to dial his number. She raises the receiver three times and slams it down three more times, unsure how to do this. How does one even begin to apologize for sexually harassing one’s coworker?

She’s standing by the phone debating her next move when it rings. She has the receiver to her ear before she can psych herself out of not answering.

“Scully,” she answers, digging her nails into her palm nervously.

But it’s not him. It’s her mother, triple-checking that they’re still on for Christmas Day. The tears that spring across her eyelashes at her mother’s voice surprise her.

“Dana?” her mother asks after a period of silence. “Is everything alright?”

Scully sniffs discreetly and wipes at her tears. “Everything is fine,” she promises as cheerfully as she can manage. She clears her throat. “I have a bit of a cold.”

She cringes at the lie, sinking deeper into the unenviable realm of self-hatred. It’s unclear whether Maggie Scully buys the fib or not, and they spend another few minutes on the phone hashing out the details of who’s supplying which pie.

Towards the end of their call, there’s another long pause that makes Scully grow fidgety.

“You know Dana,” her mother begins gently, “you can always talk to me if something’s bothering you. I know after Melissa died, you not only lost a sister, but a confidante.” Both women fall silent, and Scully imagines her mom wiping away tears of her own. Her mother’s voice is raspier when she speaks again. “But you can always talk to me.”

“Thanks, mom,” she manages to reply, her voice pitching higher with emotion.

After that, Scully takes a break from waiting by the phone. She tidies up her apartment, fixes herself a second coffee, and flips through a few magazines. But her mind keeps wandering.

Maybe Mulder will call to ask how she’s doing. Maybe he’ll call and broach the subject first, telling her it’s all forgotten, all okay. We never have to mention it again, he’ll say cheerfully after a few below-the-belt jokes.

In the end, the phone doesn’t ring again. She starts to wonder when exactly he left. Was it right after she threw up? Or did he wait til morning? And when did it get too much for him that he needed to physically remove himself from her space?

Her heart cracks open at the thought of their partnership floundering under this new embarrassment. She does not think she can carry on, not like this. It’s one thing to drunkenly ask someone for a romp in the hay. It’s another thing altogether to say I love you. That’s the part that hurts the most, the baring of her naked soul.

She tries to put herself in Mulder’s shoes. What would she do if he had gotten drunk, tried to seduce her, and told her he loved her? Well, it would be a very welcome change of pace, that’s for certain. If Mulder put his feelings out in the world so blatantly, she wouldn’t have left his apartment in the middle of the night. No, she would have stayed there so that in the morning, she could reassure him of her love.

But he hasn’t even called or checked in. He hasn’t even bothered trying to tell her that all is well. The cold, hard facts to which she so faithfully clings are a painful pill to swallow: he’s trying to distance himself from her.

Sunday passes in a blur of headaches, stomachaches, and reeling thoughts. She stays up half the night nervously wondering how Monday will be. She practices her speech. She will apologize, because that must come first. She will then ask him to please forget it ever happened.

But every time she gets to that part of her speech, a part of her starts to fantasize that he stops her in her tracks. “It was embarrassing, yeah,” he will admit with a slightly goofy smile, “but I actually feel the same way.” A very secret, very private part of her starts to hope that this will all turn out for the best in the end. And maybe this was just the first horrifying, awkward step in their realizing their feelings for each other.

It is on that wing and a prayer that she enters the office on Monday. Mulder is already at his desk spinning a pen between his fingers. With hope and bravery twin companions in her heart, she walks up to him and clears her throat. He swivels expectantly and she watches his face closely for a sign. But he just looks at her the way he always does—kind interest, open expression.

“Hey, Scully,” he greets her, and it’s so normal she almost falters.

She swipes at her upper lip as her cheeks turn pink under his gaze. “Can we talk?”

He sucks in his cheeks for a minute and then stands, nodding. She turns and shuts the door quietly behind her. The room is suddenly too constricting.

He leans hipshot against his desk and she twists her fingers uncomfortably. “I wanted to apologize,” she starts, the beginning of the rehearsed speech. “For what I did Saturday night. As I hope you know, after almost five years of working together, it was extremely out of character for me. Although there’s no excuse, I was intoxicated and I’d really like to just forget it—”

He nods a little and before she can continue, holds up a hand. “It’s okay, yeah? No harm, no foul.”

He’s playing it really cool, which she partially expected. She holds her breath for a moment, waiting for him to say something else. It wasn’t that your advances were unwanted; I just didn’t want to take advantage of you, he might say.  

“Thank you,” she finally says when it’s clear he’s done speaking.

“Alright,” he says with an eager look, “back to it?”

She is dumbfounded, stunned into silence. That’s it? That’s all they’re going to say about the absolute disaster that was Saturday night? She was half-expecting him to at least make a bad joke. And at the very most, she was hoping he would admit that her feelings were mutual. In stupefaction, she just nods.

They get called out to Washington State later that day and Mulder is booking them next-day flights before she can even wrap her head around the trip. She doesn’t know how to manage close quarters with him after the humiliation of their weekend, and starts to wonder if she should back out of it altogether.

She’s in the breakroom pouring coffee when she sees it. A woman—someone she’s never seen before—pulling Mulder into a private conference room. He sits down in a chair and the woman leans onto the conference table beside him, her hips touching his shoulders. They look comfortable together. Easy. Familiar.

The woman laughs at something he says with a pretty smile and Mulder grins. Her blonde hair swishes across a designer blazer and Scully watches in horror as Mulder taps the woman on the knee. Her bare knee. It’s so intimate that Scully overpours her coffee and curses as scalding liquid burns her hand.

It hits her all at once. Whatever hope she was carrying that maybe things weren’t so bad is now gone. Mulder wasn’t just rejecting her out of gentlemanly concern for her state of mind; he was rejecting her because he has no interest in her like that. She humiliated herself for him. She tried to seduce him and failed. And he rejected her.

Their professional partnership, she slowly realizes as she makes her way over to her desk, isn’t the only thing that matters to her. It’s him. It’s the personal connection with him. And that is being ground to dust before her eyes.

Scully lingers in the break room for a long time, wishing she could hear what they were discussing, wondering who this pretty blonde agent is. When ten minutes have passed, she gives up and heads back down to the basement, feeling defeated and on edge. 

At five p.m., she makes her decision. She will not go on the trip. She sends Mulder a short email, embedding in it a lie that he will or won’t believe—I’m too sick. Go without me. She hasn’t called out sick in years. Not even during her cancer.

The rest of the week passes without Mulder. They barely talk. There’s no reason to communicate across the distance. It feels healthy, almost, without him here. He doesn’t want her in the way she wants him, and the pain of that realization is easier to bear when she’s not face-to-face with his handsome jawline and disarming humor.

When he returns to the office on Friday, as chipper and unbothered as he had seemed on Monday, Scully makes a decision. She will not pine for him; she will not waste time on love unrequited. It’s time to move on.

#x files #msr #msr fanfic #mulder x scully #dana scully #txf #fox mulder my beloved #the x files #x files fanfic

[figureofdismay]

I say this every time I guess, but TXF 4.02 Home annoys me so much. It's got a lot of unhinged Mulder and Scully Dynamic scenes that are good, yes, it's got that mid-august to mid-september northwest coast bright blue sky that stretches for eternity and the end of summer dust all over everything. It's even a decent send-up of the Andy Griffith Show, or at least a better one than Arcadia is of the Dick Van Dyke Show (not hard, all they used was the names).

But. They failed so hard at doing Gothic Horror Incest. I'm guessing those men never even read Flowers In The Attic, huh? or even One Hundred Years Of Solitude. Like, maybe the goal was to upend the genre, it's hard to say. But they jumped straight from the desolate isolation of the setting to the violent, pathetic, thoughtless grotesques of the Peacocks, without any of the other standards of the genre like the lulling sense of beauty, delicacy and old world slow life in grandeur that makes it easy to slip into and under just a bit too far. The veneer of proud and fading gentility over a simmering dreadfulness of cruelty, manipulation, desperation and semi or fully cognizant intent. Like, the disdain, not just fear, of outsiders, and the fear of loss of image and status is a big part of self-loving, self-victimizing self-profiting twisted dynastic Gothic Families, because the genre isn't just a horror show of wrong types of love and power expression, but a comment on the parasitic wealth and eugenics loving upper class.

So maybe The X Files wasn't really the place for that and didn't have the space within one episode to do Gothic Horror Incest for real. It's just that what they ended up with in Home, between the setup and the tone, is essentially an extremely gory and violent Redneck Joke. Which is punching down in a way the show didn't usually do.

It's uncomfortable! For me it's not the gore or the incest that really gets to me it's that the Peacocks were essentially a 'those poor dumb hick farmers out there don't know not to screw each other ha ha' thing that got filtered through the zeitgeist as Shocking Gothic Horror.... which isn't really on the show itself, to be fair. They weren't to blame for the whole 'banned from syndication' hype. But still, it's an ugly tonal choice and then it got launched to infamy :/

(yeah the 'foreign and indigenous cultural monsters and powers' episodes were always Definitely Racist and examples of Exoticism. However, you could tell they were trying So Hard not to imply these other cultures were lesser, even though they were ~weird, powerful, mystical and maybe barbaric to our narrow american minds... yeah. Bad! But a lot of 80s and 90s 'tokenizing-mysticizing to combat racism' racism was like that. Less Punching Down, more falling flat on it's face.)

#txf #the x files #dismay rewatches #incest cw #txf s4 #4.02 home #to be honest txf could have and probably even /should/ have had a gothic horror (threat of) incest arc around The Mulders and The Spenders #instead. Scifi Succession Style #which i have also said before. also usually sotto voce because i don't want people to come for my head lol #i mean it would've required a living Samantha and fleshing out Bill Teena and Jeffrey. and Cassandra. and maybe putting in some more player #but the Overtones would have helped to draw the contrast btwn Mulder's background and Scully's and btwn the Syndicate's reality and ours #the show was right to keep the aliens mostly off screen and Other and Unknown bc it's not Trek/Stargate style Spaceship Scifi #it's scifi horror #but it wasn't really right to keep the keep the human conspirators so much in the dark. they were largely rich powerful white american men #who employed war criminals and experimented on humans #yet they were portrayed like cartoon character villains with silly code phrase nicknames instead of person names #giving them regular names and letting us see them talking directly about their plans. letting us glimpse their outside lives #all would have increased the horror/tension bc it shows how indifferent they are to their evil acts and yet how they're still human & banal #and also dysfunctional in the case of the tangle of the Spenders and the Mulders and their upper class power grabbing and manipulation #this is getting away from me #tagging this #succession files #for the tags

[deathsbestgirl]

quagmire part two

@waiting-for-the-day here be nonsense

she agrees with him and she's funny.

scully is crazy. she thinks there's some non-human creature out their eating people and she just takes her little dog for a walk. she's fine, she's got her gun.

and queequeg is even worse!! these two and their no fear. this tiny little pup who should be afraid of the world goes running into the woods for a second time and this time gets EATEN. poor scully lol

but now we're getting to the best scenes, my favorites.

like when scully comes back, no queequeg in tow, mulder is still fixated as she's sitting in shock.

this man says "i'm sorry about queequeg" then rambles on about the pictures as if scully didn't just watch her dog eaten lmao and she's trying to listen to him, they still have a case & a pile of dead bodies they don't want growing but she comprehended nothing.

"i kind of faded out"

"can you drive a boat?"

(he really hated queequeg lmao)

AND HERE WE GO. the boat.

okay i love this scene soooo much. the part on the boat is so underrated.

that little line about expectation & hope, seek and ye shall find. i think mikaela already said it best:

(read the whole post: https://www.tumblr.com/waiting-for-the-day/722583454298079232/in-quagmire-after-the-boat-crashes-when-theyre)

earlier, scully played along with him talking about other sea monsters. here she's showing off some sailing skills *and* telling him a nice little anecdote about "here be monsters" — right up his ally as he's pouring over the map trying to tell her where to go.

(literally these little moments of sharing her childhood & nerdery, being his (best) friend, giving him those moments he didn't get to have as a kid, using it to bond with him, to show how she listens & cares and she's just like him really)

the jokes they make are so nerdy and it's a core part of their relationship. they both just store information in their brains in the hope they'll be able to whip it out to impress the other, or make them laugh.

~too bad we're not fishing~ ~we are fishing~

~here be monsters~ ~i have a map of nyc just like that~

and one of my favorite things about scully: when she doesn't know something, mulder must have the answers! ~what is that? what is that mulder?~ ~here be monsters, scully~ (and he does know this time, he just doesn't know what kind of monster they're actually going to find)

making jokes when their boat is about to sink with them on it. i love them. so unserious.

scully yelling mayday and mulder stopping her like honey we have to get out of here now please put on your life jacket — NO FEAR which is extra funny because she's about to give a speech about ~respect nature because it has no respect for you~

(oh the quips. "there goes our $500 deposit" and ~i say we swim~ ~swim? ...in which direction?!~)

cotr really has so much. it becomes a little breaking point for scully. at the beginning she was annoyed with mulder and she didn't understand why he was even interested in the case, and then when she sees the big blue sign she's exasperated. it also isn't a typical case he goes for. so yes, he's interested in big blue, not entirely out of the realm of possibility. but she can't figure out why, because what does this really have to do with his sister? what everything usually goes back to for him. she's been mulling this over since the episode started.

and now!! they're stuck on a rock in the middle of the lake and they have no idea if anyone heard their call & is coming. and he's still all ~that's big blue!~

scully: mulder, sometimes i just can't figure them out.

like she really really wants to understand him. she's always trying to understand him. big blue has her stumped.

and then they're interrupted by the DUCK and the humor is back

she's like ~how dare you joke about cannabalism it's real to me~

and ugh my favorite thing. mulder was too focused earlier to give space for scully losing queequeg. but he gets another opening here,. he has no idea what to do (and he really hated that dog). however there's one thing he can do and it's let her talk.

he asks why the name queequeg and she talks about moby dick and her dad and starbuck and it's so sweet & relatable (i have one cat named newspaper because my dad was always reading the paper — we had piles of them & i still have one he kept when obama became president — and another cat named saturn because he had a saturn & he loved that car & ya know, because space lol) and it's another way they open up to each other & bond & they're just best friends. this is a best friends conversation for sure. (and maybe dipping into how deep their relationship goes)

and then !!! scully has a revelation.

[scully finishes the line with him and they are both trying to impress each other here idc what anyone says. scully has that book memorized and mulder probably read it once, maybe twice and has been *waiting* to share this little tidbit with her for years!!!]

anyway. this whole conversation has been simmering. scully has been confused & frustrated, but she believes in mulder & she cares about him & she's going to follow him until they find the truth he's seeking. she's there for the journey, with all its circle & endless lines & aberrations. they've been making jokes & quips, giving each other small moments of levity to ease the tension surrounding them. all of it so they can get to the crux of it and that's what's happening on this rock.

she compares him to ahab "everything takes on a warped significance to fit your megalomaniacal cosmology" and "scully are you coming onto me?" (the way she ignores his ~flirting 90% of the time kills me, she's ~so funny) and "trying to do so will only leave you dead along with everyone else you bring with you" and god he's so serious & unserious, he can't have this conversation (which i think is something he really fears after scully's abduction, before it was just him, only he could be hurt or killed. that's not how it is now) without humor, so he talks about wanting a peg leg. "i'm not being flippant" and "and that's not flippant?"

(and nobody believes he wouldn't be hobbling around on a peg leg still doing exactly what he's doing now. the delusion that he could be content just living.)

and then farraday comes to save (ruin) the day "hope i'm not interrupting anything" how much did this man hear 🤣

they tell him about the boat sinking and when he asks, scully claims "it was my fault" instead of trying to explain to this non-believer that it was possibly big blue. god i love her.

and then the sheriff finds them, tells them about search. mulder tells him they need to search striker's cove but he doesn't listen til scully in her very judicious way says "Sheriff, Agent Mulder and I would appreciate it if you could spare two or three of your men to assist us here." and he agrees. scully's face:

and then farraday is attacked and he didn't see it (surprise surprise) and mulder is the first person to see what's attacking people and he's so sad it's an alligator which he kills (like he's soooo cute. he wants it to be big blue so bad but if it was he would have had to kill it and then he would have cried!!!)

and another underrated scene:

scully can see he's disappointed. he didn't find the big white whale he wanted, but he solved the case and saved more people from dying/attacks. she thinks he should be proud of the work he did.

scully finally gets it now. mulder wants something tangible too. he wants to keep hoping, he wants to believe. and he found hope in big blue's existence and he just wanted to experience something being real, with evidence & proof. (go read mikaela's post!! she says it perfectly)

and scully will always do everything to keep his hope & belief alive, to protect it. because it's precious. it's one of the most beautiful & special things about him. and it's this wonderful, quiet moment between two best friends who don't always get each other but they always try. they always listen. they stay by each other's side. for better or worse. the new ahab & starbuck.

(the way mulder has a natural skepticism he fights with thome & the desire to believe. i think he's afraid not to. the way scully has an innate ability to believe but it frightens her and so she fights it with skepticism)

#quagmire #the x files #mulder and scully #txf txt

[hotpocketcasserole]

Thoughts on X Files so far...

There really aren't many shows that I get super invested in anymore these days. I think because of work and the lethargy that comes with getting older and unhealthier, my brain has sort of rewired itself to only be able to tolerate youtube videos. Mostly commentary and narration channels.

Like, I rarely sit down and watch movies anymore because I could easily watch a twenty minute Cinema Snob or Ryan Hollinger essay on the movie. On the one hand, those sorts of reviews give a deeper analysis of movies and shows and give me different perspectives that I hadn't considered before. On the other, it's my lazy way of consuming media without putting 90 minutes into it. And when I do, I find myself playing a game on my phone or scrolling tumblr.

I have sort of found myself doing that with the X Files but I'm trying to make more of an effort to pay attention. Some episodes can be a bit slow but I know I ought to be making more of an effort.

That said, it feels so natural to get into this show. Not just because I've already watched the first three seasons about a dozen times but because it really is just a good show. There have been other shows that I really struggled to get into or keep up with and I wondered why that was.

I've tried watching similar shows like Hannibal or Mindhunter. I enjoyed them a bit but found myself getting burnt out after a season or even a few episodes. They were beautifully shot, well written, very well acted. And yet I quickly fell out of love with Hannibal and I lost interest in Mindhunter after about five or so episodes.

I think it might be because these shows took themselves too seriously. To me, they lacked the range of emotion. They were too dour, too despondent. The visuals in Hannibal were extremely artistic and lush but ultimately too depressing. No one seemed to have much humor about anything and everything was focused around murder and cannibalism. It was very similar with Mindhunter. It was a fascinating story to follow along but I came away from each episode in a deep funk.

The X Files can be a dark show, both in content and in visuals. I think I watched a special feature on a DVD where one of the show's creators joked about how the show seemed to mostly take place in the dark. They'd come to the set and all the lights would be off and they'd think it was closed but actually they were just getting ready to start filming!

But I think what separates X Files from these other shows is the fact that there is a balance of light and dark. Mulder and Scully have a good professional rapport with one another. As they grow as characters, they're starting to care more each other, about how they're feeling. Mulder expresses concern for Scully a few times on particular cases he knows affect Scully on a personal level. They go out of their ways sometimes to help one another. They even joke and smile with one another!

I'm still only three seasons in but I'm already hooked because I can see the broad range of humanity in these characters. Not just Mulder and Scully but the supporting characters as well. There are funny moments, tender moments, heartbreaking moments. And having those only makes the intense moments even more suspenseful. Even though I know the show goes on for several more seasons, I still cling to the edge of the sofa when they're in danger.

That's what sets this show apart from most other shows for me. Even with some bad acting, even with it's cheesy TV special effects, it's still an effective and dynamic show. It's story telling and the relationship between Mulder and Scully.

Feel free to disagree or tell me if I'm wrong, these are just some random things I was thinking about lately while watching the show.

Also, Scully is always a mood:

#personal #the x files #spooky season #mulder and scully

[spookyagentfmulder]

he's been trying to put a word to it that isn't that one. any excuse that makes sense, for the ways that when mulder reaches for him, constantine reaches back: they're long past sarcastic replies that dismiss care as incidental, or obligatory, long past hands that shove away the ones reaching out with gentle loving offers of support. for a while, he thought he could survive off of leaning in, alone: not reciprocating but accepting, not-running openly enough to confirm that he was appreciative of the hand through his hair, the arm over his shoulders, the lacing of their fingers.

he couldn't. he has always wanted more than he could understand. he has always wanted this certain, steady love.

he reaches out, inch by inch, with muscles that do not know how to flex without trembling. it's coffee on mulder's desk in the morning with a haphazard doodle in permanent marker of something from the movie they watched the night before; coffee in the afternoon with a snapple cap joke scribbled underneath the heat protector. it's failing to make breakfast but presenting his attempts just so they can be made fun of, and so that on the drive to get a better alternative he can put the radio on and sing loud enough and bad enough that mulder laughs at him again. it's holding mulder's hands tight between his own, talking low and soothing in the dark about something that's made them shake; hands smoothing up and down his thighs, reassuring motion, comfortable pressure; the weight of a palm at the small of his back, to the side of his face. catching him at the door with a kiss, for no reason other than to share it. and lately, quiet to mulder's shoulder in the middle of the night: "i've got you, fox. i've got you."

it means the other thing. they know it means the other thing.

Make My Character Feel Loved!

Despite the word being unspoken, he feels it. Despite the rituals and their intricacies, he knows their meaning. He's beginning to appreciate more and more of John, far beyond the mask he wears. Far beyond the near impenetrable wall he's built around himself. To the very heart of him. He sees the word. He knows the word.

Love. Love.

They love each other. Even if they can't say it yet. Even if they read it on each other's lips. Love. True, unconditional, unstoppable, unwavering.

Fox Mulder feels love.

#talentforlying #;case file -memes and prompts #hey look at us #who would have thought #not me #get loved idiot

[mysticalsoot]

I think mulder is very bad at small talk/social contracts, he often annoys/angers people, doesn't really follow social norms. Scully is a lot better with small talk but I think she has more trouble making immediate connections, while mulder tends to immediately empathize with people. Sort of, mulder is worse at masking with high empathy, while scully is better at masking with lower emotional reciprocity. For mulder he is incredibly obsessed with the paranormal, often starts infodumping. Scully makes a comment about it in Alpha when he starts listing cryptids. He also has an extensive knowledge of sports statistics and a lot of pop culture knowledge, especially science fiction. In Hollywood AD we see him watching a movie and knowing it line for line, and he says he's seen it 42 times. Mulder often forgets to eat, in Chinga we see he only has expired orange juice in his fridge. In the same ep we also see him sorting pencils and throwing them into the ceiling. He often sits with all the lights off to think. I also think him eating the sunflower seeds is an oral stim. Anyway uhhhhhh. It's really funny listening to Fox Mulder Is A Maniac (podcast) because they'll always go "hes so crazy and insane for this" and its always just an autism symptom. Usually they'll talk a lot about how he's bad at social relationships. Anyways Fox Mulder autism real.

anon I absolutely adore you for this-

YOU ARE SO RIGHT!! ITS WHAT IVE BEEN SAYING!!

also the inflection in their voices, both tend to have difficulty (I've noticed) in giving their voices more distinct tone and emotion. they speak more monotone, and even with people they know!!

mulder has intense interests and hyperfixations and in the earlier episodes misses different cues/jokes

all in all; I AGREE I AGREE I AGREE

i tried telling my dad and my sibling but both say no and that there's no way either of them could be autistic and I'm just like... what world do you live in (both my dad and sibling are autistic but they're both amab and have similar views in autism being linear in how they experience it, mostly my dad)

also I love long asks like these omg I loved getting to read ur thoughts anon!!

#connorshitposts #anon <3 #connor talks xfiles

[atths--twice]

Chapter Twenty One

Plans continue to be made, the future becoming more secure.

Late March 

“I have something I want to run past you,” Fox said as Dana sat down to join him on her lunch break. 

“Uh oh,” she said with a smile, arranging their plates and picking up a spoon to eat her soup. “Do those words ever come before bad news of some sort?” 

“I would say usually you’re right,” he said with a chuckle. “But in this case, I hope it’s not.” 

“Okay. Lemme hear it,” she said, exhaling deeply and smiling. 

“It’s about finding a house. I’ve been looking at listings this morning and I have found a few, but…” He shrugged as he picked up a french fry and ate it. 

“But what?” she asked, pausing mid bite. “None are good?” 

“No, they are. But, I wanted to ask you something before I contacted anyone to look at them.” 

“Okay.” 

“What would you think about instead of looking here, we found a place closer to your family?” He stared at her as she set her spoon in her soup and then clasped her hands together. 

“I… I don’t know. I hadn’t thought… I mean, I had, but I wasn’t sure if you or even if I… Would you want that?” She looked at him and he schooled his emotions, not wanting to sway her opinion. 

“I’m asking you,” he said quietly. “You moved here, making a personal decision to do so. I wouldn’t want to diminish that decision by suggesting you move back if you didn’t want to.” 

“Fox,” she said, shaking her head and sighing. “I… I haven’t told you my whole reason for moving here.” 

“You said you needed a change.” 

“Yeah, I did. I also… God… I was feeling very confident in myself as a “do it all” type of mom,” she said, laughing and shaking her head. “I thought moving someplace on my own, with Ivy of course, would be… romantic. Not in a romance type way, but more grandiose, like a heroine striking out on her own.” She looked at him and he smiled. “Once I was here, I realized how hard it was without a family or friend unit around to lean on. I was very naive.” 

“Naive? No. You were young-”

“Hardly,” she scoffed, shaking her head. “It was a year and a half ago. I can hardly use “young” as an excuse as I was nearly twenty eight years old.” 

“That’s not young?” he asked with a smile. 

“No. Not… not enough to have those romantic types of ideas.” 

“Oh, Dana. Don’t ever say that,” he said softly, reaching for her hand. “Romantic ideas are always good to have. If you hadn’t moved… if I hadn’t moved…” He smiled as she placed her hand in his and he squeezed. “Maybe it wasn’t for this type of romance, but we found it nonetheless.” 

“We did,” she admitted, squeezing his hand. “And it has been hard to be on my own with Ivy at times, but I think I did a good job.” 

“Good?” He shook his head and smiled. “You’ve done a fantastic job. You’re an amazing mother and Ivy is lucky to have you as the one who has nurtured and loved her.” 

“Stop,” she said softly, blinking quickly and looking around, her eyes wet. 

“Sorry, hon,” he replied, squeezing her hand again before letting go. 

“Do you want to move out of the city?” she asked, picking up a napkin and dabbing at her eyes. 

“Can I be perfectly honest with you? And not have it sway your own decision?” 

“Of course,” she said and he nodded as he let out a breath. 

“I would like to move away, yes,” he said, watching her as he spoke. She inhaled deeply, remaining silent as he swallowed. “I’ve enjoyed spending time with your family the times we’ve gone to visit. Very much so, in fact. Your brother seems like a great guy, always quick with a wonderfully awful dad joke. Tara… I swear that woman could run the world if someone only asked.” 

“She could,” Dana agreed, laughing out a quiet sob. 

“Melissa and Artie, they’re amazing. I appreciate the protectiveness he feels, especially after knowing how much he hated Jordan. Your sister… She's like a slightly older version of Samantha and I felt an immediate connection to her when we met. The day when she and Sam meet, I know it’s gonna be wild.” 

Dana laughed again, blowing her nose on a napkin and reaching for another to wipe her eyes. 

“But your parents, Dana…” he said, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “They… Your dad… the way he finds a way to be by your mom, always winking or smiling at her. The way she rolls her eyes, but I see her smile. Hearing your mom laugh and your dad answering with his own chuckle, it’s so reminiscent of my parents. The love I always saw between my dad and mom, it seemed embarrassing when I was younger, but as I grew older, it was different. I saw it in a new light. And then it was gone.” He drew in a deep steadying breath and she grasped his hand, taking a shuddering breath of her own. “I didn’t know how much I missed seeing that, being around it, until we were at your parents house. It was like… like I had mine back for a moment.” 

“Fox,” she breathed, squeezing his hand tightly. 

“I moved here thinking I needed a change. To shake off the stagnancy of where I’d been. To move forward.” He laughed softly and looked at her. “But, what I want now is to go back. To be around family. I have Samantha, yes, but she has her own family unit in Greg and his family. I’m beyond thankful that she has that and for the time I have spent with them over the years. But now… I want that for myself. The spontaneous dinners, weekends planned together, school functions to attend, cousins coming over, birthdays and holidays together. I want all of that. I want that for me, for you, and especially for Ivy. I want her to grow up with her cousins as her first best friends, the secret keepers, the ones who hold her unbreakable trust.” 

“And my decision is not supposed to be swayed when you say something so beautiful?” she asked, letting go of his hand and reaching for the napkin holder, taking out at least ten napkins. He laughed and shook his head. 

“I was content on my own, living vicariously through my own stories and those of others, until I met you. And Ivy. And your family. Experiencing the happiness you all share, the stories, the memories… I want to be a part of it. I’ve missed it so much.” 

She let out a very long breath and blew her nose. Wiping her eyes again, she looked at him and smiled. 

“I want that too. Especially for Ivy.” She sniffled and let out a breath. “I’ve liked being here, I really have. I feel like it forced me to grow up and appreciate things differently. I also felt like I had to because going back was like admitting defeat. But going back now?  Because it’s what we all want? Well, that doesn’t make me feel like I’ve failed.” 

“Not one bit have you failed,” he said quietly. 

“No. I haven’t. I’ve thrived. I’ve grown and… going home now, with you and Ivy, will be different than when I left.” 

“You came to the city to find yourself and instead you found your soulmate,” he teased and then his eyes widened. “Oh... I should write that down. That’s a great idea for a book.” She laughed, blowing her nose once again, and shaking her head. 

“It sounds incredibly cheesy, but it’s the truth. I never expected you, Fox Mulder.” 

“I feel the same, Dana Scully,” he said, smiling at her and she smiled back. “So… we’ll get out of this city?” 

“If you’re sure it’s what you want.” 

“Count of three. Eyes closed, no peeking. Thumbs up or down. Ready?” he asked and she grinned despite her tears. 

“Ready?” 

They closed their eyes. He counted to three, sticking his thumb up the entire time. Opening his eyes, he saw her thumb up as tears were shining in her eyes again. Bumping his knuckles to hers, their thumbs kissed and he smiled. 

“So, should we look at some houses now? Or wait until later?” 

“Now,” she said, sniffling and reaching for a napkin as she rose from her seat and squished beside him as he reached for the laptop. 

“A tub,” she said, as he began to type. “I want a bathroom with a big tub.” 

“I already have that as a prerequisite on my mental list,” he said with a smile and a nod. “I know how much you enjoy the one at my apartment, so if I don’t see it in pictures, that’s a hard pass.” 

“Seriously?” she asked with a laugh and he nodded. 

“Remodeling or renovations is not what I want to be dealing with when it comes to finding a place. We’re looking for a place that’s ready to move into, with no issues. And if it doesn’t have your tub, it’s not worth our time.” 

She leaned close and kissed him, a hand gently pressed to his cheek. 

“I love you,” she said, kissing him again. 

“I love you too. Any other specific requests?” He asked as he pulled back and began typing. 

“A yard. A decent sized one. For Ivy and… a dog?” 

“A dog?” he asked, looking at her, his fingers pausing on the keyboard. 

“Would that be okay? You’re not allergic are you?” she asked. 

“I’m not,” he said with a smile. 

“So we could get one?” 

“I don’t see why not.” 

She smiled and then laid her head on his shoulder with a sigh.

“A yard, please. For a dog,” she whispered and he smiled, kissing the top of her head as he began the search to find their new home, when something else occurred to him. 

“A fireplace. We need a fireplace for Santa to come down,” he said as she wrapped her arm around his and squeezed gently. 

“Yes,” she said, kissing his shoulder. “We definitely need a fireplace.” 

________________

“We’re all so glad you’re coming back, Dane,” Bill said on Saturday, picking her up in a bear hug that made her laugh. “The kids were so happy to hear it last night, they kept asking when Ivy would be coming over.” 

“I know,” she said, when he set her down. “Saffy and Delilah were dancing around her when we got here last night, all of them then running off to play, completely forgetting about us.” 

“Sounds about right,” Bill said with a laugh. Smiling at Fox, he shook his hand and clasped it with the other. “Good to see you, Fox.” 

“And you, Bill.” 

“Come on, let’s get going.” 

Bill drove them to the nearby coffee shop where they met Carson, one of Bill’s old friends who was a real estate agent. After getting a coffee, they piled into Bill’s truck. Fox took Dana’s hand and squeezed as they listened to Carson describe the homes they would be seeing. 

“Most of them are brand new and waiting for the perfect buyer. Bill actually built a lot of them. Or his company did as he’s passed the buck onto his crew and I can’t say I blame him. That’s a younger man’s game,” Carson said and they all laughed. 

“My dad was at a few of the builds helping on the weekends,” Bill informed him and Carson shook his head.  

“Your dad is a force unknown to others, that’s why.” 

“True,” Bill and Dana said together, as they laughed again.

They toured three of the new houses, and while they were all beautiful and ready to move in, they did not exactly meet their personal criteria. Fox could tell Dana was feeling discouraged and he hoped the next house would be better. 

“This one,” Carson said as Bill drove. “Was recently renovated. It has four bedrooms, four bathrooms-”

“Oh, the stained glass house,” Bill interrupted with a nod. “Hmm… oh… yeah. Yeah, I think you’ll like this one.” 

When they drove up to it, Dana gasped.

“Oh…” she said as they walked up to the front door and reached for Fox’s hand. “Look at that, it’s beautiful.” 

At the top of the white front door, there was a rectangular stained glass window with ivy in the corners, that joined together to meet pale pink flowers in the middle. 

“Ivy on the door,” Dana had whispered, squeezing his hand. “I think that’s a sign.” 

“I think it just might be,” he responded, knowing for certain when the door opened and Dana gasped again, holding his hand tightly. 

“Oh,” she said, stepping into the entryway and seeing the built-in bench and space for coats. “I know it’s just the entryway, but Bill, I think you’re right. I do like it.” He smiled at her as they continued inside. 

The floor plan was open and airy, walls recently removed to make it so. A small room off the living room would be perfect for his office. The main bedroom, kitchen, laundry room, full guest bathroom, and large living room were on the first floor. The remaining three bedrooms, plus a bonus living area, were upstairs. Two of the bedrooms shared a bathroom- Jack and Jill style. The other room had its own full bathroom attached to it. 

“I need to see the yard,” Dana said, letting out a deep breath. “It can’t be this perfect. There has to be a catch.” 

“Well,” Bill said, laughing as she started to run down the stairs and they followed after her. 

“Oh…” Dana said as she opened the door and stepped onto the deck. “It’s… it’s so…” 

“Perfect,” Fox said, looking at the string lights hanging overhead and imagining sitting under them on his outdoor furniture, perhaps with a small fire pit as well. 

“Ivy will love it,” Dana said, stepping down the stairs and walking around the high fenced yard. 

“Look at this tree. It’s like it was meant for a little treehouse. Something we can…” She turned around and looked at Fox. “I want this house. Tub, yard, and a fireplace.” She ticked off the small list of wants and smiled. “Stained glass ivy on the door.” 

He smiled back and looked at Carson, who smiled back with a nod. 

Mountains of paperwork were signed, negotiations made, inspections arranged and passed. When the green light came in quickly, as a large upfront payment was always appreciated, they purchased their new house with only two weeks to go before their wedding. 

When they took the train up to sign the last of the paperwork, pick up the keys, and walk through the empty house one more time before beginning their move, Ivy ran around upstairs, shouting with happiness. 

She had picked out her room the first time she came to see it and asked if the walls could be pink instead of white. A call to Bill, had led to a call to Maggie, who said it would be taken care of before they moved in, whatever shade of pink Ivy wanted. 

“Grandma will paint my room!” she called out and Fox and Dana laughed as they watched her from downstairs. 

Dana took his hand and squeezed, looking at him, but saying nothing. He smiled and squeezed back, sighing contentedly. 

“Will it be done before we move our stuff here?” Ivy asked, breathing hard as she stopped running and looked down at them, holding onto the white railing spindles. “Will it be pink before we move up here?” 

“It will,” Dana said, smiling up at her. “Grandma will see to it. We just need to tell her the exact color you want. We’ll pick it out tomorrow and tell her.” 

“Yay!” Ivy shouted, running back and forth again. 

“Ahh, to have the energy of a six year old,” Fox said and Dana laughed, squeezing his hand again and then letting go. 

“You ready?” she asked and he nodded. 

They would be moving in next week, but for the moment, to mark the occasion and show it was truly theirs, they had each brought one thing to leave behind.

“Ivy, honey?” Dana called up and Ivy came to the railing again, breathing hard. 

“Yes, Mommy?” 

“We’re going to join everyone for dinner soon. We need to put out the things we brought to christen the house as ours before we do, so let’s do it now.” 

“Okay!” 

She ran to the stairs and then sat on her bottom, sliding down the slightly curved carpeted staircase. Fox laughed and Dana shook her head with a smile when Ivy stood up and grinned at them. 

“That was fun!” 

“I’m sure it was,” he said. “Come on, wild girl.” 

He took her hand and they walked to the entryway where he took his item from a shopping bag.

“My dad always had his winter coat hanging in our entryway,” he said, hanging his black coat on a hook. “Sometimes he’d put candy in the pockets. Or money. But we had to remember to check. Samantha and I would race to see who got to it first, but there was always something for both of us. I’d like to do the same with my coat hanging here.” He looked at Dana and then Ivy. “Like a… pocket mailbox.” 

“Fox,” Dana said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I love that idea.” 

“Me too,” Ivy said, looking at his coat. “Is there anything in there now?” 

He shrugged with a smile and she grinned as she leapt forward to search the pockets. 

“Ahh!” she shouted, pulling a lollipop from one pocket and a pink heart shaped piece of paper from the other. She stared at them and then looked at Dana. “Can I have the lollipop?” 

“Of course you can,” Dana said with a quiet laugh. 

“You can have Fox’s heart,” Ivy said, handing her the pink paper heart. Opening the lollipop, she put it into her mouth. 

“Yes, you can,” Fox said to Dana, winking at her as she slipped the piece of paper into her pocket. 

“Better than a lollipop any day,” she said, stepping closer to him to give him a kiss. 

“Hmm,” he hummed, kissing her again. “Your turn.” 

They all walked to the large built-in bookcase by the living room and Dana took her collection of Ella’s books from her bag. Standing them lovingly and carefully, she smiled at Fox. 

“The trip to the bookshop and you sharing these books… that was the turning point. The slow moving turning point, because I definitely fought it,” she said and he smiled. “But being in there, sharing our love for books even further…” She shook her head and gently stroked the spines of the books. “These are something I will always treasure and I wanted them to be the first thing of mine in our home.” 

“I love it,” Fox said and Ivy nodded, though he wondered how much she truly understood. “Well, that leaves you, Miss Ivy. What did you bring?” 

She grinned and pulled her lollipop from her mouth. Handing it to him, she turned around and ran upstairs.

“Oh, I guess I’m holding this,” he said in surprise, looking down at the lollipop as Dana chuckled. 

“Just be glad it wasn’t gum,” she said and he chuckled as he nodded. 

Ivy came out of her room, ran to the stairs and slid down them again, her small unicorn backpack in her hands. 

“Is that how you’re planning to always come down the stairs?” Dana asked and Ivy nodded. 

“Yup! It’s very fun. And fast,” Ivy said, grinning at them. 

“Can’t say I blame you,” Fox laughed, offering her lollipop to her, but she shook her head. 

“I have the thing I want to leave here in my backpack, but you have to close your eyes and wait here,” Ivy said, looking from one to the other. “Close your eyes.” 

“Okay,” Dana said and Fox nodded as he closed his eyes, covering them with his unoccupied hand. 

“Don’t peek!” Ivy shouted, and he heard her running quickly from the room. 

“Hmm,” Fox said, taking his hand off his eyes, but keeping them closed as he reached out blindly for Dana’s hand. Finding her doing the same, their hands met halfway. “What do you suppose she’s doing?” 

“No idea,” she said, chuckling as she interlocked their fingers. “But she left her lollipop behind. It’s pretty serious.” 

He chuckled and squeezed her fingers as he held the lollipop in his other hand. 

“Okay!” Ivy called. “I’m ready, but you have to keep your eyes closed. I’ll bring you to it.” 

She took Dana’s hand and they all laughed as they went where Ivy led them, shuffling along slowly. 

“Stop! But don’t open your eyes yet,” Ivy said and they stopped, Dana squeezing his hand as they waited patiently. 

“Okay,” Ivy said softly. “You can look now.” 

Opening their eyes, it took a second to focus on what they were supposed to be seeing. But then, Dana let go of his hand and walked toward the dishwasher with a slight sob as she looked at the picture that had been placed there. 

“It’s us, Mommy. See? You and me and Fox. It’s us at the new house, standing in front of the ivy door. It’s all of us as a family. We’re going to be a family here now.” 

“Ivy,” Dana said, reaching for her as she cried and he stepped forward to look at the picture she had drawn of the three of them, laying the lollipop on the counter.

Ivy was standing in the middle, holding both of their hands, all of them beaming. The ivy door could be seen behind them, the pink flowers a perfect match to the real stained glass. 

“You brought magnets with you,” Fox said, kneeling down to look closer at the picture, amazed at her foresight to bring them.  

“I couldn’t find the tape,” Ivy explained and he laughed quietly as he shook his head. “Grandma’s dishwasher has magnets on them, so I thought it might work here too. Do you like it?” 

“Oh, Ivy… I love it,” he said, looking at her and smiling. “It’s a beautiful picture.” 

“It’s what I wished for on my birthday. I can tell you my wish now because it came true.” 

“You… wished for a house?” Dana asked through her tears. 

“No. I wished for us to be a family together. To live together as a family. I wished for it two times on my birthday. At home and then when we were at grandma’s house.” 

“Ivy,” Fox said, completely shocked as he reached for her and pulled her close, crying quietly as he held her. Dana’s arms went around both of them as she also cried, thanking Ivy for her wish and the beautiful picture she had drawn of them to show how her wish had come true. 

_________________

June 7th

11:30 a.m.

Fox stared at his reflection in the hotel room mirror and he shook his head as he exhaled deeply.  

“Why is this so hard? It’s like I’ve never worn a tie before,” he muttered as he untied his tie for the third time and hung his head as he closed his eyes. 

A knock sounded at the door and he let out a sigh of relief thinking it was Samantha, having forgotten her key. Hurrying to the door, he flung it open, prepared to ask for her help. 

But it was not Samantha, it was Dana’s mother. 

“Maggie,” he said in surprise. 

“Fox. May I come in?” she asked with a smile, holding a small plastic container that held his boutonnière. 

“Of course,” he said, opening the door wider and letting her enter. 

“Samantha is helping Ivy with her dress, so I offered to bring you your boutonnière.” 

“Oh, thank you,” he said. “If you leave it on the table, I can-”

“Would you mind if I put it on for you?” she asked softly, smiling kindly at him. “And maybe I could help with your tie?” 

“You don’t have to do that. Samantha is…” He stopped speaking and took a deep breath as he realized what exactly it was that Maggie was offering him. Swallowing hard, he nodded slowly. “I… I’d like that.” She smiled as she set the boutonnière on the table and walked over to him. 

“My father always wore a tie to work,” she said as she reached for his tie and he felt a lump lodge itself in his throat. “He showed me how to do it one day and then insisted I do it every morning, always patient when I would get it wrong. He said I would need to know how to do it in order to help my own husband one day. Well…” She chuckled and he forced a smile, his emotions near the surface. “Imagine his surprise when I married a man who has worn a tie only a handful of times in his entire life. A man who prefers to wear flannel shirts and jeans everyday. He has no need for ties, but I’m glad to have learned how to do it anyway.” She chuckled and he exhaled with a soft smile as she tapped the knot she had made. “There. How’s that?” 

He stepped past her and looked in the mirror, nodding with extreme relief. 

“It’s perfect. Thank you so much, Maggie.” 

“Of course, dear. Now, we just need to pin your boutonnière onto your jacket. Slip it on and we’ll get that taken care of.” 

He hurried to do her bidding, taking his black jacket from the chair and sliding it on. 

“Hmm,” she hummed as she smoothed the back down and then adjusted the lapels. “It’s a very handsome suit and you wear it very well.” 

“Thank you,” he whispered, swallowing hard once again. 

“I know you know about… Jordan,” she said as she took from his jacket pocket, the folded white pocket square that matched Dana’s dress. “I hated what he did to my girl. To both of them.” She arranged the pocket square and then placed it back into his pocket, fussing with it a bit more until it was just right. “I wasn’t sure she would ever find someone deserving of her. Someone who loved and appreciated Ivy. But…” She smiled at him and patted his chest, turning to pick up the container holding the boutonnière. 

He stood still, trying not to cry, thinking of his own mother doing this for him. What she would have said to him in this private moment. How much she would have loved Dana and Ivy, doting on them both and spoiling Ivy with gifts and treats every time she saw her. He let out a shaky breath, tears filling his eyes despite his best efforts to stop them. 

“Here, dear,” Maggie said softly and she handed him a few tissues. 

Taking them from her with a nod, he wiped his eyes, blew his nose, and then wiped his eyes again. 

“Would you rather do it yourself?” Maggie asked just as softly, holding the boutonnière in her hand. “Or wait for your sister?” 

“No,” he said in a raspy voice. Clearing his throat, he took a deep breath and shook his head. “I’d like you to do it, please.” She smiled and nodded, stepping closer to him. 

She did not speak as she pinned the boutonnière to his lapel and for that he was thankful. Sniffling and wiping at his eyes, he drew in another deep breath. 

“There,” she whispered when she was finished, stepping back slightly and patting his chest again. “It looks great.” 

“Thank you, Maggie,” he whispered, sniffing again. 

“Thank you, Fox. For loving my girls and bringing them back home,” she said, placing a hand on his cheek. “I’m so happy you’re part of our family.” 

“Me too,” he whispered and she smiled, patting his cheek gently. 

The door beeped and then opened, both of them turning to see Samantha standing there. She smiled and Maggie dropped her hand from his face. Squeezing his arm, she smiled at him again. 

“That’s my cue to go see how things are going. See you out there soon, Fox.” 

“Maggie,” he said, bending to kiss her cheek. “Thank you again.” 

“Of course, dear.” She patted his arm and walked past him, squeezed Samantha’s arm, and left the room. 

Exhaling a long breath, he looked at Samantha and knew at that moment that she had sent Maggie to him. There was nothing that needed to be done with Ivy’s dress. She had sent Maggie to him because she knew he needed her there. 

“Sammy,” he breathed and she came to him, taking his hands and squeezing. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, brother,” she whispered, their foreheads touching as they each drew in a breath. Squeezing his hands again, she pulled back and smiled at him. “You ready?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“Then let’s get this show on the road,” she let go of his hands and began running through the checklist of items they needed. He nodded to each one and she grinned. “Let’s go get you married.” 

He laughed and nodded, exhaling once again. 

______

Walking out from a side door with Samantha, his best woman, he let out a deep breath as he stood beside the wedding officiant. Everyone seated looked at them, smiling happily. Trying to smile back, he suddenly felt incredibly nervous and anxious. 

“It’s okay,” Samantha whispered, the backs of her fingers brushing his, her pinky locking with his for a quick second. “Breathe, Fox. We can’t have you fainting on us.” 

And that was enough to ease his anxiety. Picturing himself falling face first to the ground, everyone gathering around and worrying over him, made him want to laugh. Glancing at Sam quickly, she smiled and nodded, all of his nervousness gone.  

Music began to play and his attention was drawn to the back of the room, his heart beginning to beat faster. 

Melissa, Dana’s matron of honor, entered the room from his left and paused at the end of the aisle before continuing down. She winked at him as she then stood to his right, holding a small bouquet of long stemmed gerbera daisies. 

Ivy, in a dress with a pink bodice and a light pastel rainbow full skirt, her hair pulled halfway back in an intrinsic braid, the rest of it in loose curls, came down the aisle next. Holding tight to her golden flower basket, with rainbow ribbons woven through it, a special small seat created by Maggie on which Pandy was secured so as not to miss out on the activities, Ivy grinned and fairly skipped as she dropped silk flower petals onto the ground. 

She smiled with excitement when she reached the front, standing beside Melissa and glancing often at Fox who winked at her with a grin. 

When Dana entered the room and stood with her father at the end of the aisle, everyone rose to their feet, and Fox drew in a breath. 

In a simple, yet elegant white dress, her hair done in an elaborate side knot near her neck with stray pieces curling loosely around it, she beamed as they seemed to float down the aisle. Her eyes on him and him alone, made his heart race and his mouth go dry. 

She handed Melissa her bouquet of flowers and then took his hands in hers, her eyes shining as she smiled. The officiant began to speak, but Fox did not hear a word, his thoughts and attention on Dana only. 

“Fox,” Samantha hissed behind him and he blinked. Dana bit her lip as she smiled and he knew he had missed something. 

“Sorry,” he whispered and Dana squeezed his hands as he heard laughter from the guests. 

“I asked if you came here today of your own free will and without reservation,” the officiant said with a smile. 

“No. No reservations,” he said, smiling at Dana. 

“Me either,” she said, glancing at the officiant and then looking back at Fox. “No reservations.” He grinned at her and she smiled back. 

Again, he heard nothing until Dana’s eyes widened and she cut her eyes to the officiant. 

“I’m sorry,” he said and another chuckle was heard. 

“Did you have something you wanted to share?” the officiant asked.

“Yes,” Fox said, nodding at Dana and licking his lips. “Dana, I told you before that I never expected this to be my journey. Never thought I’d be here. But then… I walked into a diner and saw your crooked apron bow and heard you laugh, and I was gone.” He smiled as she drew in a deep breath, tears filling her eyes. “It was meant to be. A part of the journey I didn’t even know about yet- to spend the rest of my life loving you.” 

“Dana?” the officiant said, smiling as he looked from Fox to her. 

She let go of Fox’s hands and accepted a tissue from Melissa to wipe her eyes before she drew in a deep breath, took his hands again, and began to speak. 

“Fox,” she said, shaking her head. “My life plan did not include you. Did not include so much. But… plans don’t stay the way we feel they should. Sometimes it’s bad, but sometimes it’s good. So very good.” She smiled and shook her head again. “I’m beyond happy you came into the diner. Into my life, to join me on my path. On our path.” She glanced at Ivy, who was touching the ribbons on her basket, and she smiled. “Our lives will be much better with you by our side.” 

He grinned at her and then Samantha was handing him Dana’s ring and he was placing it onto her finger, his hands shaking as he promised to love and honor her all the days of his life. 

She smiled, tears shining in her eyes, as she then placed his ring onto his finger and repeated the same promise. 

“By the giving and exchanging of rings, the promise to one another in their vows, and the power vested in me-”

“Here it comes!” Ivy said in an excited squeaky voice, interrupting the officiant. 

Fox and Dana both looked at her with a smile as everyone laughed. Her basket was hanging on her arm and she held Pandy in her hands, close to her face, her smile and excitement infectious. 

“Well,” the officiant said with a chuckle. “Not wanting to keep anyone waiting… by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” 

Fox leaned in, pressing his lips to Dana’s and kissing her softly. As everyone clapped and shouted, it was Ivy’s shout of happiness that was the loudest in the room and heard above all others. 

_____________

Fox took Dana and Ivy by the hand, leading them to the table where the marriage license was to be signed. Melissa, Samantha, and the officiant had just signed it and now it was time for him and Dana to add their signatures. 

But there was something he needed to do first. 

“Ivy?” he asked, stopping at the table. “Do you remember what we talked about a few days ago? How your mommy and I have to sign a licensed document in order to be married?” 

“Yes, I remember.” 

“And you remember what else we’ve talked about a few times, about me adopting you?” 

“That when you adopt me, you’ll be my really daddy,” she said with a smile. 

“That’s right,” he said, grinning at her. “Well, in order for me to adopt you, Mommy and I have to be married.” 

“And now you are married!” she said with a smile. 

“Right again,” he said, smiling back at her. “So, I wanted you to be here when Mommy and I add our signatures to the marriage license because then-”

“What’s a signature?” 

“It’s like this,” he said, reaching for the marriage license and squatting down to hand it to her, showing her where the other signatures were already written. “This is your auntie’s, my sister’s, and the officiant’s. Writing it this way is called a signature and putting it on a document is important and serious. It means that the people who signed it today agree that Mommy and I should be married.”  

She touched the names, tracing the inked signatures and she nodded. 

“It’s like a promise,” she said softly and he grinned. 

“That’s exactly what it is,” he agreed and she smiled. 

“You promise to be married and to love Mommy.” 

He looked up at Dana, her eyes wet and a hand covering her mouth, and he nodded. 

“I do promise that, Ivy. I promise it to Mommy and to you,” he said, looking back at Ivy. “I promise to always love your mommy and to love you. I love you both so very much.” 

She put the license back on the table and wrapped her arms around his neck. He smiled as he pulled her close to him and closed his eyes as he let out a deep breath. 

“I love you too, Fox. I promise to love you forever, with all of my heart.” 

“Oh, Ivy,” he said shakily, squeezing her even tighter. “I promise with all of my heart too.” He heard Dana choke back a sob and he looked up at her, his own eyes wet with tears. 

When Ivy pulled back, she smiled and he laughed softly. Kissing her forehead, he stood up and clapped his hands once. 

“Okay, let’s sign this license!” he said. 

Dana signed first, Ivy standing on a chair and watching as she did. Fox was next and when he was done, he looked at Ivy, who grinned at him. 

“Now, there are two more things to sign,” he said, taking an envelope from his inside jacket pocket. “One is the official adoption document and the other is one that I made for us to all sign, even you Ivy.” 

“I don’t know how to do the signature like you and Mommy did.” 

“That’s okay. I can show you. It’s pretty simple.” 

He laid the one he had made onto the table and unfolded it. 

“Can you read this one to me?” he asked her. 

“I know some of the words,” she said. “But not all of them. Can you read it instead?” 

“I can,” he said, taking her hand and then Dana’s as he began to read the paragraph. “Today, we become a family. We did not start out on this journey together, but we met along the way and have decided to continue on it together. We promise to love each other, talk about our feelings, be kind, adventurous, silly, and loving. We will always be a family and by signing our names below, we make it official.” He looked at Ivy and smiled. “It’s a promise to always be a family and be together. Will you sign it, Miss Ivy?” 

“Yes, but you have to help me.” 

And he did, showing her how, and then guiding her hand until it read Ivy Scully on the paper. He added his own name and then Dana added hers along with the date. 

“Two Scullys and a Mulder,” he said, grinning at them. “That would be a good band name.” Dana laughed and Ivy smiled. 

“Okay, now it’s time to sign this one, the one we send away to the state and then it becomes official and true that we are a family. Once I sign this paper, I will be stating that I want to be your daddy.” 

“My really daddy,” she corrected him softly. 

“Your really daddy, yes,” he said, kissing her head. “I love you, Ivy.” 

“I love you too, Fox.” 

“Ready?” She nodded and reached for his hand. He grasped it as he picked up the pen and took a deep breath before letting it out. 

He located the places he needed to sign his name and add any initials. Adding the date, he signed once more. Setting the pen down, he smiled and looked at Ivy expecting to see a matching smile, but instead he saw silent tears running down her face. 

“Ivy…” he said, letting go of her hand and wrapping his arms around her. She cried as she clung to him and he said nothing, simply let her cry. 

When she calmed, she pulled back and looked at him. Touching his cheeks, he waited for her to speak, not wanting to push her. 

“You’re my daddy now,” she whispered. “I love you, Daddy.” 

“Oh, Ivy,” he said, tears filling his eyes. “I love you too.” 

He pulled her close again and reached for Dana, who was also crying. The three of them held each other, crying and then laughing at their tears. 

“We’re a family now,” Ivy said. “A really family.” 

“That we are, my love,” Dana said, smiling at Fox, who was unable to speak past the large lump that resided in his throat. “That we are.” 

_______________

Six months later

Fox laughed as he typed, shaking his head at the direction the story had taken. 

“And the secret was finally revealed, Ollie the Octopus was actually Queen Ophelia from the Aquamarine Kingdom,” he said softly as he typed. 

A mug slid into his line of vision and he turned to see Dana standing beside him with a smile. 

“Hey,” he said as she set the mug down onto his desk. “Thank you.” 

“You’ve been busy in here,” she said, leaning against the side of the desk and looking at the screen. “What? Ollie is actually the queen? Oh, I didn’t see that coming.” 

“Me either!” he said happily. “Isn’t it great? Ivy said it last night and my mouth dropped open. I think she’s had this planned from the beginning, but kept it very tightly under wraps.” 

“Sounds like she’s been spending time with a writer,” Dana chuckled. 

“Hmm,” he hummed with a smile, looking at her as he leaned back in his chair. “Where are you off to looking so beautiful?” 

“Beautiful?” she scoffed, looking down at her clothes. “I’m wearing jeans and a sweater.” 

“Mmhmm,” he said, reaching for her and pulling her onto his lap. “Like I said, beautiful.” 

“Hmm,” she hummed, kissing him, her arms wrapping around his neck. “Thank you, first of all.” He chuckled as they kissed again. “Second, I’m going to lunch with mom and then we’re meeting up with Missy to do some birthday and Christmas shopping.” 

“That’s right.” He smiled at her, rubbing his thumb along the bit of revealed skin where her sweater lifted in the back. 

“You’re still good to get Ivy from school?” she asked, her fingernails scratching gently at his neck. 

“Mmm, yeah,” he said, closing his eyes and exhaling, pulling her closer. 

“Fox,” she said warningly and he opened his eyes. 

“What?”

“You know exactly what,” she said, kissing him quickly and rising from his lap with a smile. 

“To be continued then,” he said and she laughed softly. 

“Yeah. To be continued…” she said, kissing him again, a hand on his cheek. “And you wonder where Ivy gets her storytelling skills.” She looked at the computer and nodded. 

“Nah… she’s always had a great imagination. I’ve just added to it with my own ideas.” 

“This is true. You two have compiled quite a story. I love that you write it down every day so you can look at it each night, keeping the storyline straight.” 

“Not like that series we watched last week?” he teased and she put her hands up as she shook her head. 

“Don’t even get me started on all the plot holes in that series.” 

“But you still want to finish it?” he asked with a laugh.  

“We have two episodes left. Do you seriously expect me to not watch it? To not finish that hot mess so I can laugh at it later?” 

“No, I don’t,” he laughed again, knowing her well. 

“If you and Ivy had been in charge of that show, it would have been much better,” she said with a smile. “Okay. I gotta get going. You have fun adding to the story. I’ll pick up dinner and see you both later.” 

“Sounds good, hon. Have fun. Say hi to your mom and Missy for me.” 

“I will, love. Bye.” She kissed him one last time and started to walk out of the room. 

“See ya, beautiful,” he said, turning in his chair to watch her walk away. She looked over her shoulder with a wink and then she was gone. 

He smiled as he turned around again and looked at the computer screen. Clicking the home button, he went to the very beginning of the story that he and Ivy had started months ago and began to read it for at least the twentieth time. 

“Nope, no plot holes here,” he chuckled as he read about kingdoms of animals who worked together, sometimes plotted against one another, and then made peace when things went awry. 

“Huh,” he said, leaning in and reading more intently, thinking of the sketchbook somewhere in Ivy’s room that held the drawings that they had made of the characters. 

“Huh,” he said again as he got up and went up to her room to find it. 

Hazel, the three year old golden and white springer spaniel they had adopted from a shelter two months ago, was asleep on the foot of Ivy’s bed and he smiled at the sight of her. 

She was a sweet little dog who had caught their eye, her whole body wiggling with excitement when Ivy had approached her kennel. 

“Oh… there’s a cat in there too!” Ivy had exclaimed when she looked closer. “Why is there a cat too?”

“They were surrendered together,” a volunteer had informed them. “The woman who owned them had a stroke and was unable to care for them any longer. Her children didn’t want the responsibility of an animal, much less two, so they brought them here. We’ve tried to put them in separate areas, but Hazel stops eating and Willow, the cat there, cries and cries unless she’s with Hazel. So, we let them be together and everyone is happy.” 

“So they need to be adopted together?” Fox had asked, his heart aching as he had looked at the animals. 

Hazel had been licking Ivy’s fingers through the chain link fence, whining as she tried to get closer. Willow, the small black and white cat, had gotten up and stretched, coming over to also receive pets, pressing her head against the fence. 

“Yeah, they do,” the volunteer had said with a sigh. “I can’t imagine how they would get on if they were separated. Both of them are incredibly sweet, as you can see, but not everyone wants the responsibility of two animals.” 

“We’ll take them,” Dana had said, taking Fox’s hand and squeezing it. “We’ll take them today if we can.” 

“Let’s see what we can do,” the volunteer had said, smiling happily as she walked away and Ivy had laughed when Hazel had barked and wiggled excitedly. 

“They can’t be separated,” Fox had whispered, looking at the animals, but thinking of himself and Samantha. 

“And they won’t be,” Dana had said, squeezing his hand again. “We leave with both today, or we keep coming back until we do.” 

He had pulled her to him and whispered his thanks and love, kissing her head as he had released a deep breath. 

Two hours later, after spending time with Hazel and Willow, speaking to the supervisor, filling out paperwork and paying the adoption fees, they had left with both animals. 

Stopping at the pet store, Dana had stayed in the car with Willow while Fox and Ivy had taken Hazel into the shop to pick out whatever toys she wanted, and pick up supplies for both animals. 

Once home, they had all adjusted quite well. Hazel loved the yard, running around and around as she had chased after Ivy, whom she adored. Willow had been content with finding places to nap throughout the day, coming around for attention when she wanted it, her purr loud as she cuddled close.

When Ivy was in school, Hazel could often be found laying on her bed, watching out the window and awaiting her return. 

“Hazy Hazel,” he said softly, giving her a pet and rubbing her silky ears. “Just waiting for our girl?” Hazel licked his fingers, but did not stir further. “Yeah, I know. She’ll be home soon, I promise. Now I need to find that book.” A final pat and he turned around looking for the sketchbook. 

Finding it under a book about dragons and unicorns, he thumbed through it as he hurriedly walked back to his office. 

Reading the story again as he looked at the corresponding drawings, an idea began to form and he grinned. 

He would have to ask Ivy and Dana first, see what they had to say, but as the idea grew and took on a life of his own, he opened up his email and began a new message to his agent. 

Susan, 

Had an idea for a story, something different than what I usually write. Not sure just yet how it will go, but I had to tell someone. Not even sure if it will work, but really hoping it can. 

Fox

Pressing send, he leaned back and ran a hand across his mouth. Laughing, he shook his head and spun the chair around in a circle. 

Willow ran into the room, the bell on her purple collar jingling quietly. Fox smiled as she jumped onto the desk and blinked her bright green eyes, purring loudly. 

“Willowy Willow. Been sleeping the day away and now it’s time for some love?” he asked, scratching under her chin as she closed her eyes and leaned into his hand. “Yeah… you know how to do things right. You-”

A ding sounded and he looked at his email, finding a response from Susan. 

“Well, that was fast,” he said as he stopped petting Willow and clicked on it. 

Fox,

I have come to expect nothing but the unexpected from you. When you have it figured out, send me some pages. 

Susan 

“Yes!” he said with an excited laugh. Glancing at the clock, he saw he had two and half hours before he would need to pick up Ivy. 

“Okay,” he said with a nod. “Okay, Willow, let’s see what we can do.” 

Willow lay on the long desk, twitching her tail and then eventually falling asleep as he edited, copied and pasted, scanned images and added them into the documents, until it was a rough assembly of an illustrated book. He saved the document one last time and made sure his tablet was fully charged. 

Giving Willow a quick pet and a kiss, he called for Hazel who came hurrying down the stairs, wiggling happily. Grabbing her leash, his coat and backpack, they ran out the door. 

Hazel secured in the backseat, they started toward Ivy’s school. 

He hoped that once he showed Ivy how amazing the story looked, she would love the idea of creating a real book that others could also enjoy. 

Grinning, he turned the music up in the car and sang along as he drove to pick up his little girl with the big imagination. 

#the x files #xf fanfic #msr #alternate universe #modern setting #christmas #fluff #happiness #plans for the future #love and happiness #kissing #hugging #family

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 14/34 - styrofoam gravestones

[Read on AO3]

Skinner gleefully calls their joint adventure to Los Angeles a “honeymoon,” though Scully is sure no one else would consider the movie they'd just been subjected to a worthy use of their time if it had been.

‘Worse than anticipated’ might come close to describing it, actually. 

The trip itself is fine. The insinuation that this is their honeymoon (from their boss, no less) causes them to blush. Skinner knows he's making it weird, which is probably why he keeps teasing them about it every time he sees them. Thankfully, despite the awkward hazing, their boss sets them up with separate rooms.

And apparently has given them free reign of the Bureau credit card for the evening. 

The piece of plastic is burning a hole in her pocket as Scully goes out in search of her partner following the premiere. The studio lot looks much the same as it had when they'd visited before, over a year ago. Even some of the sets are still up, probably from last minute reshoots, and it's here that she finds Mulder, seated amongst the styrofoam gravestones and fake grass.

He'd taken the movie harder than she had, she thinks. After all, it's his life's work they're making a mockery of, not really hers. She's much more bothered by the bizarre love triangle the filmmakers somehow worked in, wondering how on earth they'd come to that conclusion in their short time together.

Mulder had disappeared after a particularly ridiculous scene taking place in a coffin, abandoning her to a sheepish-looking Skinner, who handed over the credit card without a word as soon as the credits rolled.

But now she sees him, and he's not moping like she'd expected after seeing him walk out of the theater in a huff.

Instead, he's staring straight ahead, frozen like one of the statues in the middle of the fake cemetery, seemingly lost in thought.

“Been looking all over for you,” she says, taking a seat beside him on the artificial hill.

“Yeah. Sorry I left. I couldn't take it anymore,” he answers, his blank stare never wavering. 

“That's saying a lot, coming from you,” she jokes, nudging against him with her shoulder. “I'm pretty sure your tolerance for bad sci-fi movies is higher than most.”

He doesn't respond, and it's then that she notices his open cell phone laying in his hand.

“You okay?” she asks. 

He looks down at his own hand as if seeing it for the first time, and snaps the device shut.

“I, uh—” he starts, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. “While I was out here, I got a call.”

A knot of anxiety twists in her stomach. That call could be from any number of people, and she can’t tell from his expression what it might have been about. He's shaken, that much is clear.

She suddenly wishes she hadn't eaten a full bowl of popcorn in the theater.

“They tried calling you first,” he continues. “But your phone was on silent during the movie.”

Her eyebrows furrow and she hurries to dig her cell phone out of her purse, checking the display.

2 missed calls.

“Mulder, who—”

“The adoption agency,” he says, cutting her off, and it feels like the floor drops out from beneath her.

She's breathing, but it doesn't feel like she's getting any air. It's impossible to tell if it's good news or bad news yet, but her voice has suddenly stopped working and she can't bring herself to ask.

His hand finds hers, grasping on tightly.

“They approved our application, pending a home visit,” he says, a disbelieving smile beginning to form on his lips.

“They did?” she asks breathlessly, and he nods.

“And there's more.”

What more could there possibly be? She feels like crying, but she doesn't know if she can. The whirlwind of emotions is overwhelming.

“They found someone,” he says. “A possible match.”

That does it. A watery smile pulls at her cheeks, and she can hardly believe it, except she trusts this man with her entire being and he would never lie to her.

“That quick?” she asks.

He nods again. “They said they know it's fast, but the plans for the last placement fell through and they need someone who can be ready in the next four months or so.”

“Four months?”

“A young woman, already five months pregnant.”

She can't help it, she leans forward and wraps him in a crushing hug, throwing her arms over his shoulders and holding on. He holds her just as tight, and she feels his beaming smile in the crook of her neck, matching her own.

“Why didn't you come get me?” she gasps into his ear, absolutely certain she's never been this happy in her entire life.

“I wanted to,” he says, amusement lacing his voice. “My legs stopped working as soon as I heard the words ‘application’ and ‘approved’ and I had to sit down.”

This draws a laugh from deep in her chest, and she pulls him even tighter, cupping her hand over the back of his head and running her fingers through his hair.

When she finally pulls back, she sees his eyes filled with tears of joy, and she knows her own look the same.

“Really?” she asks, needing to clarify. Wanting to hear him say it again. And then maybe again later.

“Yeah, Scully,” he says, gripping her hands in his own. “Really.”

Suddenly, the movie doesn't seem so bad anymore. Who cares, it'll tank anyway. They have better things to worry about.

They're going out to celebrate, and Skinner can pick up the tab. It may not be their honeymoon, but it's a celebration of their relationship nonetheless, a culmination of their time as partners and the beginning of their journey toward becoming parents.

She stands determinedly, pulling Mulder to his feet and interlocking her arm with his, grinning up at him giddily.

“Let's go,” she says, flashing the credit card proudly.

He gladly takes it from her, laughing freely as they begin to stumble out of the graveyard arm in arm.

“Scully,” he says, tossing his cheap plastic Lazarus Bowl behind him as they walk. “Promise me you're not in love with Associate Producer Walter Skinner?”

-.-.-

It's just a week later when a knock on Scully's apartment door signals the arrival of the representative from the adoption agency for the home visit. They'd spent the week frantically getting things in order in their limited time after work, finally integrating the items brought over from Mulder's apartment with her own. Mulder had even gotten one of the pictures from their courthouse wedding framed, and it held a place of honor on top of the fireplace mantle in the living room.

Every time she passes it, she feels her heart skip a beat. There are precious few pictures of the two of them together, and that one is the most special of them all. It makes her feel like she has that “normal” life she'd asked him about, once—though of course there is nothing normal about this arrangement they have. 

“Mulder, she's here. Is everything ready?” she says, feeling slightly queasy.

“Ready, Scully,” he answers, and she shoots him a look.

They'd talked about this at length already, so he should know better. “You can’t call me that, remember?”

He tilts his head downward challengingly, the exaggerated eye contact sending a shiver up her spine, and she knows what's coming before the word leaves his mouth.

“Dana,” he breathes in a low rasp, smirking at her visible reaction to how odd it still feels to hear her given name spoken aloud outside of the most dire circumstances.

Oh boy.

“What exactly will you be calling me? Fox?” he asks next, moving to adjust one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

“I seriously don’t think I can,” she answers. “I’ll think of something, but if I have to, I suppose I will.”

“You know, you’re the only person who’s ever listened to me and not called me Fox, I think,” he comments, his eyes tracking her as she approaches the door. “Other than maybe the Gunmen.”

“And now it just sounds completely wrong coming out of my mouth, so I won’t be doing it anytime soon if I can help it,” she says in a clipped tone, knowing the caseworker is waiting right on the other side of the wall.

“I appreciate that.”

She rolls her eyes, which only makes his smile brighten. “Shut up and get over here,” she says, jerking her head toward the doorway. 

He readily obeys, sliding into place beside her with his arm over her shoulders before she opens the door to the woman on the other side.

“Ms. Koske, hi! Come on in,” Scully says, far more cheerily than her usual affect. 

Mulder catches her eyes, and they flash in warning. Cool it down, they say. Be yourself. She'll do her best to take his advice, but it's hard. This is a key moment in their already fraught path to parenthood. She doesn't want to mess it all up with one small mistake. Not after they've come this far.

“Good to see you, Ms. Scully,” Ms. Koske greets her with a smile and a nod as she enters. “Mr. Mulder.”

“Would you like anything to drink? Coffee? Tea? Water?” She needs something to do with her hands, so she shoves them in her pockets, hoping the answer will be yes so she can distract herself from her nerves.

“I’m alright, but thank you,” Brenda says politely. “Maybe after you’ve shown me around a little?”

Thankfully, Mulder takes the reins after that, probably sensing her unease. 

“Of course, right this way, Ms. Koske,” he says, separating himself from her side—a loss which she feels acutely. He leads the woman further into the apartment, winking at Scully behind her back as he goes.

Scully takes a deep breath, collecting herself. She's not sure why she's so nervous. She and Mulder have read every piece of adoption planning literature they could get their hands on, and quadruple checked that they had everything right before today. Still, she'll always be the one to worry that they missed something.

Thankfully, Mulder keeps cool under pressure. At least in situations like this.

“Any pets?” Brenda is asking him by the time Scully catches up to them in the hallway. She can see that the woman already has a half a page full of notes on her clipboard, not that she can make out any of it.

“Just my fish,” Mulder answers easily. “Although, Sc– Dana had a dog a few years ago.”

Scully clears her throat, deciding now is the time to jump in and be an active participant in this visit.

“Maybe we could get another one after we move to a bigger house, hmm?” she asks. Mulder’s unamused expression is exactly what she was hoping for, but he quickly schools it before Ms. Koske can see. 

She's partially teasing about getting a dog—payback for him blindsiding her with the ‘new house’ idea at their previous interview. But it might be nice, someday. 

Besides, he can’t exactly say no right now, can he?

She grins.

“Whatever you want, my love,” he responds, his overly saccharine smile telling her, ‘two can play that game.’

“How long have you been keeping fish, Mr. Mulder?” Brenda asks, oblivious to the subtle unspoken conversation happening right over her head. She stoops to look at the mollies with interest, tilting her head in response to the U.F.O. themed decor.

“Oh, uh, probably over a decade now,” Mulder answers, turning his attention back to their guest and his gleaming fish tank, in its prized new location.

Brenda raises her eyebrows, scratching something on her clipboard. 

“Impressive. They’re more work to take care of than most people think,” she speaks, and Scully hopes that translates to ‘If you can keep a fish alive, you can definitely handle a human child,’ even if the logic there isn't exactly sound.

Off the hallway, next Mulder shows her to the bathroom, which had been meticulously cleaned the day before. Scully doesn't know how someone could make such a mess with toothpaste, but Mulder’s tooth brushing quirks like squeezing the toothpaste tube wrong have been a constant pain in her neck since he started sleeping over. At least that's the worst of her worries. Otherwise, he's been a very agreeable living partner, even putting his shoes away instead of leaving them out after the time she almost tripped on them with an armful of groceries.

Brenda peeks inside cabinets and checks the bathtub, annotating as she goes on her clipboard.

“Are your medicines kept secure and in a child-safe place?” she asks, looking to Scully.

“Yes, I was a doctor before I left to join the FBI,” she answers readily. “I can assure you that I know all the dangers and keep them stored safely.”

Brenda nods, seemingly impressed. 

“A doctor,” she says. “Do you have any experience with children’s medicine?”

Scully shakes her head. “Just a rotation in med school,” she answers honestly. She knows realistically that this won't impact her chances of adopting, but still she wishes she had a better answer. “I, uh… went in a different direction.”

The woman smiles. “Not a problem, I was just curious. It’s good to hear that you have a background in medicine, that will certainly help.” Scully lets out a sigh of relief as Brenda scrawls something down, then turns her attention to her partner. “Mr. Mulder, what did you do before the FBI?”

The question catches Mulder off guard, and he rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Oh, I– I got recruited not long after I completed my degree in psychology.”

“Did you ever practice?” Brenda asks.

“No, I didn’t.”

“But, I’m sure you have a general understanding of children’s psychology from your studies, yes?”

Scully looks to Mulder, curious about his answer herself.

“I do, yeah,” he says. “But, actually, most of my knowledge in that… area… comes from personal experience.”

The caseworker nods in understanding. “I hope you don’t mind my asking… I know this is a little less formal than our last interview, but I’d still like to be thorough.” The implication that he should expound on his answer is clear.

“No, I understand,” he says, nodding. “Uh, when I was twelve, my little sister disappeared. She was never found, and it… tore my family apart. I spent most of my adolescence bouncing between therapists until I went off to college in England.”

Brenda gives a sad shake of her head and makes a note.

“You two have quite a history,” she says, unmistakable traces of pity in her voice. “I can see why you were drawn to each other, and why you’re looking to start a family.”

Scully catches Mulder’s eye, and they share a look. This woman doesn't know the half of it, but she's right. Their bond is rooted deeper than most, deeper even than the average married couple.

All they want now is to move forward with their lives. To have a spot of sunshine after years of darkness and suffering. Somehow, that desire turned into the dream of starting a family, and it's hard to believe how far they've come in a few short months.

“I think I’ve seen enough in here,” Ms. Koske says, breaking the sullen silence that had fallen. “Would you mind showing me your room?”

“Of course,” Scully says, smiling a forced smile as she leads the way. “Our room.”

Because it is their room, as far as Brenda needs to be concerned. She doesn’t need to know that Mulder actually sleeps on the bed that’s in the spare bedroom, now that it’s been moved from his apartment. All it took was moving a few more of his personal belongings into Scully’s room and making his room look like a guest room, and their little white lie was perfected.

“Looks like you’ve got a good variety of reading material, here,” Brenda says, eyes trailing over the bookshelf. “Medical journals, Moby Dick … The Truth About Extraterrestrial Life Forms. That one’s… unique.”

“My husband is a big fan of science fiction,” Scully says, the explanation coming easily to her. She even managed to use the word “husband” without stuttering over it, for once. Easier than saying “Fox,” in all honesty.

When she looks up at said husband, though, he's suppressing an amused smile, and she shakes her head, her cheeks undoubtedly flushing pink.

Brenda nods at her answer, smiling warmly as she stands back up to her full height. “Yes, I can see that. You’ll have to make some space for children’s literature. They’re classics, but I love to recommend Dr. Seuss.”

Scully’s heart twists, and Mulder’s eyebrows raise almost imperceptibly, a meaningful look passing between them in the span of a second.

She doesn't want to get her hopes up yet, but…

“I’ll buy a whole other bookshelf, if I have to,” Mulder says eagerly, chuckling softly, and Scully feels herself fall even deeper in love with him.

Brenda pats him on the arm, an approving smile stretching her cheeks. 

“Now, that’s what I like to hear.”

-.-.-

The rest of the tour goes smoothly, and Brenda takes Scully up on her offer for tea prior to her departure.

The conversation topics are decidedly lighter as they sip on the warm drinks. Mulder regales her with tales of growing up on Martha's Vineyard, keeping things in the safer territory of beach days and riding bikes, rather than touching on his home life. 

Before long, their cups are empty and they get to their feet, moving slowly toward the apartment door.

“Well, everything looks good here,” Brenda says, tucking her clipboard into her bag. “Clean, not too small, good neighborhood, healthy food. Shouldn’t be too difficult to childproof, for however long you plan to stay here. And, your experience in medicine and psychology should certainly work in your favor.” 

Scully reaches a hand out and finds Mulder's, and he must have been searching for hers too, because he's right there, clasping her palm in his. 

“I have no qualms recommending you to our birth mother,” Brenda declares with a beaming smile. “I’m sure we’ll be able to set up a meeting with her soon.”

She grabs Scully’s hand for a cordial handshake, then shakes Mulder's, and all the while Scully can scarcely move or breathe. Had she heard that correctly? They were really going to get a shot at this?

For the first time, she lets herself envision them with a child. Baby toys scattered on the living room carpet. Mushy baby food lining the shelves of her pantry. Mulder as a father, ever the involved parent like he says he wants to be.

That was something she hadn't ever truly allowed herself to imagine. Not even when embryos bearing his DNA had been implanted into her womb, while he waited supportively in the waiting area.

For the first time, it's real, and she can barely hold herself together.

Mulder thanks the woman for them both, smiling broadly as he opens the door for her, but Scully can't hear them over the sound of her heart racing. She manages to mumble a thank you and goodbye before the apartment door closes, unable to muster anything more substantial than that.

And the moment they're alone, tears erupt from her eyes, hot and wet on her cheeks.

Mulder doesn't waste a second pulling her into his arms, holding her tight to his chest. She feels herself being lifted a few inches off the ground, and he buries his face in her shoulder, grasping her securely around the waist. 

She can't speak, can't do anything but cry into his shoulder and picture their life together. Beyond the X-Files, beyond alien abductions and missing sisters. Finally, finally beyond manipulative ex-girlfriends and smoky shadow governments, who now lie in dirt and ashes.

There's a life for them, beyond, and she wants it now more than she ever thought she would.

“One step closer,” Mulder whispers into her neck, his voice choked with emotion.

She can only nod and hold him tighter in response.

~~~

Note: Apparently Hollywood A.D. takes place in January 2000?? I'm going with it.

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @gillian-anderson-in-the-tardis @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @msrafterdark @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption

[carefulfears]

The way Scully puts her fingers to her mouth when Mulder is rambling about his mom’s message and she has to tell him she killed herself are u kidding me !!&!!’@:’!!! It’s DESTROYING her to tell him 😭😭😭😭 I love that she stayed the night and didn’t even change clothes, even when Skinner came her first thought is always to protect Mulder 😢

(x) she literally just has to sit there and listen to him and know that she’s going to have to stay steady and tear his whole world down. break his heart. take away his only sense of hope and method of coping in a lifetime of loss and neglect and abuse. you can watch it break her, on her face, in her voice.

this is the dirty work of “you were my friend and you told me the truth.” scully loves so bravely.

and she doesn’t know if he’ll be okay. she doesn’t know what this will do to him. she doesn't know what this will do to their life, to her life. but she gives him truth anyway, because that’s how they love. because that’s what he needs, it’s what he’s been denied for so long.

it’s easy to forget sometimes as an audience, how precarious and unsteady mulder is. the show reminds us. it shows us a weepy prayer in the church of a god he does not believe in, in conduit. it shows us shaking hands clawing through dirt and tattered fabric, in paper hearts. it shows us a finger on a trigger, in demons. but scully doesn't forget. scully knows, through every bad joke and wacky theory, what they're really doing, what's at the root of it all.

after seven years, she walks into his dark apartment. she does not try to turn on a light, as she had earlier in the episode. she sits down. she listens. she calmly relays clear facts, all of the information that she has. she gets down on the floor and cries. there's something so primal about it, a complete desperation and lack of pretense. he's spent his whole life both left completely alone in loss, and trying desperately to avoid it, and everything that he has held onto is breaking down around him in this moment. she's falling down into the wreckage next to him, mourning with him, holding onto him tight.

this is what allows for his growth in closure, this is what made it the end of the road.

to me, there are few moments that encapsulate scully's character more than this morning after scene, possibly my favorite sequence of the series.

she's so exhausted, when skinner knocks on the door. she's still wearing her work clothes from the day before. when he asks, "how's he doing?" and she answers, "it's been a hard night for him," her voice is so defeated. she was up all night.

(how different things would be, if there had been just one person, 27 years ago)

when skinner starts to talk about work, scully tries to tell him "no," that it's not a good time, before mulder comes up behind her. as skinner tells mulder that he needs him to go back with him on the case, and he's booked them two flights, scully doesn't move from her spot in front of him. she's blocking him in. you're not getting past her, and she's not moving. (and you're not taking him anywhere without her, as she looks at skinner and tells him he "better book three.")

to bring it back to throat, eye and knucklebone (as i referenced in my previous post):

"She’s been itching to get him locked up in a moving vehicle for days. Rocketing down a highway with her at the helm, where she gets to steer and decide what touches them. For long hours on his couch that night, autopsy hands on his head, in his hair, she’d thought about what it would mean to hide him away. Thought about what it would mean to steal and stash him like fairy treasure, to draw protective rings."

i always think of this passage when it comes to scully's character, there's so much conflict in her desire to protect and guide. in the doorway with skinner, they're standing on the precipice in-between the real world and the safety of his living room floor, where she could cover him.

but ultimately, they have to cross the threshold. she can go with him, but she can't keep him inside (as she will eventually learn through trial and failure).

there's so much grief, in being starbuck. there's so much grief, in the end, in loving someone that you can only follow, you can't steer.

#asks #sein und zeit

[ismelinor]

A Dustland Fairytale (4/12)

Read on AO3 | tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 4: Mr Loverman

Scully didn’t like the White Princess – or Princess Angela, as she so condescendingly allowed Mulder to call her. She was vapid, rude to the servants, and barely more cordial to Samantha, who, Scully supposed, she saw as some sort of threat to Mulder’s affections. The real threat should have been Mulder’s total lack of interest in her. Even from Scully’s spot across the banquet hall, she could see him leaning away from the princess, as she shifted closer and closer to him, talking through a mouth full of food.

To his credit, Mulder had been unfailingly polite, even when the White Princess interrupted training with the knights to insist he show her how to wield a sword. The king had warned him (and, for some reason, Scully as well) that if he did anything to jeopardise the treaty he was signing with the White King, Mulder would be married off to someone far worse than a slightly ditsy princess.

The whole situation had Mulder, and by extension Scully, on edge. He’d barely made any bad jokes since the delegation arrived, and their monster-hunting adventures had ceased altogether. She was very put out.

Just as she was starting to plot some creative ways of getting rid of the princess, Missy passed her by, and she grabbed her by the hand. The movement caught Mulder’s eye and Scully hid her face in her sister’s shoulder, trying not to laugh: Mulder was sending her his panic face, with Princess Angela now practically in his lap.

“She’s dreadful, isn’t she?” whispered Missy in her ear.

Scully giggled. “Incorrigible. You’d think she could take a hint.”

Just then, the king put his cutlery down and Mulder leapt to his feet. Almost before the king had finished his toast, Mulder was pulling Scully out of the hall, his face a picture of comical relief.

Once they were out of earshot of the banquet, Mulder slumped against a wall with a groan.

Scully generously gave him a moment before saying, “Well, I think she’ll make you a wonderful wife.”

Mulder glared at her. She joined him against the wall. “No, really, she’s so…talkative.”

“It’s not funny, Scully. They might actually make me marry her.”

“And you’d do it?”

“It’s not as if I’d have much choice.”

Scully scoffed.

“What?” asked Mulder, sounding offended.

“I think you’re mad. I think you’re all mad. You should marry for love.”

Mulder stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head. “And, what, run away to become a farmer when I get disinherited?”

Scully smiled. “Yes, I can see you chasing after chickens and falling on your ass.”

“Oh no, I’ll let you take care of the chickens.”

“Oh, I’m coming along, am I?”

“Well, I can’t very well lace my own tunic, can I?”

They fell into companionable silence, unwilling to leave their peaceful little bubble.

After a few minutes, Mulder poked her in the side. “You looked awfully cosy with Melissa back there, Scully,” he said teasingly.

“I thought we talked about you being territorial, Mulder.”

“I’m not! I swear! Are you, er, courting her, though?”

Scully didn’t know whether to laugh or grimace, so she did a bit of both. “Missy is my sister. I think everyone else in Camelot knows that by now.”

“Oh! Good, good.”

“Why is that good? Are you interested in her?”

“Gods, no!” he laughed.

Scully narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean? What’s wrong with my sister?”

Mulder sputtered. “No! Nothing! She’s very lovely, she’s just-”

“Watch it, Mulder. You’d be lucky if Missy liked you. She’s lovely and beautiful and clever. And Samantha said you liked brunettes. So what is it?”

Mulder groaned. “I don’t like your newfound friendship with Sam. You’re conspiring against me, aren’t you?”

Scully laughed, enjoying his discomfort. Served him right if he’d hurt Missy. “We don’t just sit around gossiping about you, Mulder. I’m teaching her magic. Now, don’t think you’re getting out of this one. Why don’t you like my sister?”

“It’s nothing to do with her, I promise. It’s just – Samantha…look, she’s not said anything to me, but I’m good at reading people, okay…” he rubbed the back of his neck, looking very awkward. Scully just stared him down until he carried on. “I just get the sense that I might be…stepping on Sam’s toes if I were to show interest in Melissa.”

“Oh. Oh!”

Of course. That…made a lot of sense, actually.

“For what it’s worth, I think Missy might like Samantha too. The very first thing she told me about her was that she was-” she pitched her voice higher and gave a dramatic sigh in her best Melissa Scully impression, “-very pretty.”

Mulder grinned, and gave her what she assumed to be an ‘Our siblings, eh?’ shoulder nudge.

“Don’t worry, though, she tried to convince me you were cute, too.”

Mulder rested his head on his hands and fluttered his eyelashes at her. “And do you think I’m cute, Scully?”

Scully rolled her eyes. “You have a sort of…boyish charm, which some people might find appealing.”

Mulder whooped in triumph.

“Well, there’s no accounting for poor taste, I suppose.” She walked on, leaving Mulder behind sputtering in protest.

~~~

In the morning, Scully nudged Mulder’s door open, and was surprised to see he wasn’t at his desk. It took her a moment to notice him curled up in bed – she’d been bringing his breakfast every day for several months now, and she’d never caught him before he got himself up and dressed.

She put the tray down and walked over to his bedside. Mulder looked absolutely serene. She said his name a few times, but there was no response, so she shook his shoulder. He blinked his eyes open and smiled beatifically up at her, but his eyes were glassy and unfocused.

“Where’s the princess?” he asked dreamily.

“What?”

“Princess Angela.” His eyes flashed red as the name passed his lips.

Oh, this was bad. She felt his forehead: a slight fever. His eyes were back to their usual hazel, but they were unfixed, jumping around the room as if searching for something.

“Mulder, I think you’ve been enchanted.”

He smiled. “Yes, she is enchanting, isn’t she?”

“Lift your head up for me, Mulder,” she instructed, and – yes, as she expected, there was a hex bag under his pillow. “Look, Mulder. You’ve been cursed. A love curse, it looks like.”

He just blinked at her.

“Magic, Mulder. Magic.”

He smiled again. “It is magical, isn’t it?”

Well, it was good to know he was still just as annoying while cursed.

~~~

With considerable effort and more than a little magic, Scully got Mulder down to the apothecary.

She summarised the problem with a rather dramatic, “Mulder’s in love.”

Skinner looked up from his book, unimpressed. “And you caused that how?”

“It wasn’t my fault! Look, I found a hex bag under his pillow.”

Skinner examined the hex bag and hummed. “Love curses can be complicated things, and most of our records on dark magic were destroyed when King Spender came to power.” He seemed to be holding something back, so Scully stared him down. When that didn’t work, she gestured emphatically to Mulder, who was now singing to himself about the brightness of Princess Angela’s eyes. Skinner coughed. “Yes, well, as you know, magic requires balance. That is even more true for dark magic – a life for a life, and so on…”

Scully raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean here? A love for a love?”

“Essentially, yes. Most love curses can be lifted by…” he cringed, “…true love’s kiss.”

Scully stared at him. “You have got to be kidding me. There’s no such thing. And even if there were, how am I supposed to find Mulder’s ‘true love’? She could be on the other side of Albion for all I know!”

Skinner shrugged uncomfortably. “I’ll try to find another solution in the books. You try to keep Mulder out of trouble. If he compromises the princess, her father will challenge him, no doubt, and he’s in no state to fight. That might be the true aim of the curse.”

Scully eyed Mulder apprehensively. He was talking to the leeches in the tank about creamy skin and cerulean eyes.

Keep Mulder out of trouble. Right. That shouldn’t be hard at all.

~~~

In the end, it didn’t actually prove too difficult to keep Mulder away from the princess: first, she told him that he couldn’t court a lady without flowers, so they wasted a few hours collecting a bouquet so large Scully couldn’t wrap her hands around it. Then, she convinced him that fine ladies loved poetry; she had thought penning some verse would take rather longer, but Mulder was surprisingly eloquent in writing. Finally, when he really couldn’t be contained any longer, she knocked him out. The peace was wonderful; he had been singing and talking all day long.

What proved more difficult was keeping the princess away from Mulder. Princess Angela made no secret of her dislike for Scully, and threatened, shoved, insulted, and – in one rather alarming incident – flirted with her, all in an attempt to get into Mulder’s chambers, even after Scully had described his stomach upset in graphic and inventive detail. Still, Scully didn’t budge. Skinner was wrong, it seemed – she supposed that the princess wanted to compromise herself and thereby force Mulder into marriage. Over Scully’s dead body, maybe.

When Skinner came to Mulder’s chambers in the evening, however, her determination began to flag. He’d found nothing useful in the books: some love curses faded with time, others could be broken with counter-spells – but if they tried the wrong one, they could endanger Mulder’s life. Their only hope was to convince the princess to confess which exact curse she had used, and what was the likelihood of that?

It was a dire situation, and when she turned to leave the ante-chamber where she’d been having her conference with Skinner, she saw that it had gotten significantly worse.

Mulder was gone.

Scully cursed loudly. How had he woken up? He should have been out until dawn at least, and it was just past dusk. The love curse must have desensitised him to other magic. Why didn’t she think of that?

On the floor by the door was a note, which she snatched up.

My love,

They are trying to keep up apart. Meet me by the lake and we can be together forever.

A.W.

Scully cursed again, and sprinted off after her idiot prince, yelling back at Skinner that she had it under control. Which was almost true. She would have it under control soon. And if she didn’t, she’d at least have murdered Princess Angela in revenge, and that would be something.

She caught up with Mulder before he reached the edge of the forest. His movements were slow and jerky – most likely, he was still being delayed by her sleeping enchantment. He didn’t speak, even when Scully grabbed his arm, and his eyes were now fully red. She could only hope that nobody had seen him leave the castle.

Despite her urging, Mulder carried on his slow march to the lake. It was the strangest thing – when she touched him, she could feel the magnetic pull toward the water. Her heart was racing, and she was starting to worry about what the princess had planned. If she wanted Mulder to be forced to marry her, she would have met him in the castle, where there would be witnesses. What could she possibly want with him so far away from Camelot?

Well, she was about to find out. Princess Angela’s silhouette cast an imposing figure in the moonlight; she seemed inhumanly tall and thin.

“Princess, please, let him go,” Scully began to beg. The princess didn’t seem surprised to see her.

“You are a child of magic. You should understand.” Gone was the simpering princess: she spoke imperiously, and her voice seemed to echo impossibly in the open forest.

“Who are you? What do you want with him?” Scully demanded.

“We are the slaugh sídhe. We have seen what is foretold. We have seen your destiny, and what it means for creatures of magic. You must be tested.”

It would be nice if creatures of magic could talk sense from time to time. Scully had never liked riddles, and she still didn’t believe in destiny.

“Tested? How does you marrying the prince test me?”

The princess waved a hand dismissively, and her eyes flashed that same evil red as Mulder’s. “The princess is merely a vessel. You will be tested. You will pass, and together you will restore magic to Albion, or you will fail and perish. It is in the hands of the magics.”

Scully stared incredulously, and then the princess – the sidhe – whatever it was, dived into the lake. All at once, she heard Mulder cry out, then fling himself in the water.

The forest was absolutely silent.

Dumbstruck, it took a moment for Scully to collect herself and scramble over to the lakeside. She looked across the surface of the water desperately but there was nothing. The water was totally calm, like it had swallowed Mulder and the sidhe and was now satisfied.

Was this her test? What the hell was she supposed to do?

Well, there was nothing else for it. She took a deep breath and plunged into the water. It was ice cold and the shock almost paralysed her. Opening her eyes against the water was no help: it was pitch black. Gods damn it. She felt like her mind was freezing over. She couldn’t think of an illuminating spell; she couldn’t even summon her magic. Trying to calm herself, she broke the surface, took a deep breath, and plunged deeper. She tried to circle the lake as she descended, opening her arms as wide as possible in the hope of reaching Mulder, but she was blinded and scared. And so, so cold.

She pushed herself deeper still, until her head hurt from the pressure. She was out of air, but she couldn’t surface without him. The sidhe was right: they were together, in life or in death. That thought seemed almost comforting as her movements slowed and her head rolled back.

And then her hand found something.

A strength she shouldn’t still have spread to her fingers and she clasped them around – an arm, it felt like. She had him.

She gripped as tight as she could and kicked, though she didn’t know which way was up. She kicked and kicked – and her head broke the surface. She choked on her first breath in and really thought it would kill her – but no, she got another chance. She filled her lungs, once, twice, then looked over at Mulder. He wasn’t breathing. His head was lolling forward, mouth still in the water.

It wasn’t going to end like this. They were together, in life or in death. If she was surviving, by the gods, she’d drag him back with her.

She hauled him, limp and water-logged, onto the grass. Kneeling by his head, she called his name desperately - slapped his cheek - but there was nothing. His lips were blue, his skin pallid.

No, no, no, no. She couldn’t lose him. She wouldn’t.

Fighting down the panic crawling up her throat, Scully closed her eyes and summoned her magic – told it she needed him to live. Her hand moved to float above Mulder’s ribs – yes, she could feel the water trapped there. He couldn’t breathe. He needed air.

She took a deep breath and sealed her lips to his, forcing air into him and trying to imbue it with magic. Nothing. She did it again – and again – and again. Each time, she watched his chest rise with her air. Still he did not breathe.

Scully collapsed onto the ground. He was really – gone.

And then, a gurgle.

A cough. A splutter.

She was on him in a moment, lifting his head into her lap so he could cough up the lake water without choking on it.

When he opened his eyes, he looked at her for a second with that same dreamy, lovesick expression – but he blinked and it was gone.

“Did anyone miss me?” he rasped and Scully broke, shaking with sobs and laughter.

~~~

Despite their night-time misadventure, Camelot seemed remarkably unchanged in the morning – Mulder didn’t remember anything from his time under the love curse, and the only real consequence was a reprimand from the king for missing training with the knights.

Unfortunately, the princess – now free of possession – couldn’t stand Mulder, and demanded to be taken home.

Fortunately, Scully had managed to save the poetry Mulder had written his beloved, learnt it off by heart, and had taken to quoting it dreamily at him when he was being annoying.

[baronessblixen]

I know you have a lot of prompts to answer but this one was on my mind so I’ll give it : M&S have to leave William with her mom for the first time for a case but Scully (and/or Mulder!) has a hard time leaving him ☺️

Canon divergent: Set after season 8, Mulder didn't leave and William wasn't given up.

Fictober Day 22 | Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2022 | Wc: 1,362

The Birds, The Bees And The Mulders

Mulder pretends to be busy getting dressed, struggling with his tie, when in reality, he’s watching Scully giving herself a once over in the mirror. Her hand is on her skirt, picking at invisible lint. It’s been over a year since she last donned her work clothes. Back then, she was still wearing her maternity clothes, this particular skirt hidden away in her closet because there was no way she fit into it.

“Think they’ll remember us at the FBI?” Mulder asks her, wrapping his arm around her middle and resting his head on her shoulder. He catches her eyes in the reflection of the mirror. He’s known her long enough to recognize the conflict in her expression.

“We were there a month ago,” she says, putting her hands over his. “Remember? We talked to Skinner. We had William with us.”

“I remember,” he says, kissing her cheek. “You know Scully, we don’t have to do this.”

“Do what? Wear clothes? I think it’s a requirement, Mulder.” He chuckles, kissing her cheek. Living with him has rubbed off on her; she, too, makes jokes when there’s something she doesn’t want to talk about. For days he’s been waiting for him to start this conversation, but she hasn’t. He’s been patient with her, waiting. But they can’t ignore it any longer.

“Go back to work. Leave William with your mom. We don’t have to do it,” he says gently.

“We have to go back to work if we want to continue paying rent.”

“There’s still enough money left,” Mulder assures her. “You can stay home.” In the mirror, he sees her bite her bottom lip. She tries to wriggle out of his embrace and he reluctantly lets go of her.

“I don’t even want to stay home,” she admits, turning away from him. “I miss work. I love William, and I wouldn’t trade the last few months for anything, but…”

“You miss the slicing and the dicing.” Mulder smiles at her.

“Does that make me a bad mother?” Another lip bite.

“Come here, Scully.” She walks over to him, having to crane her neck to look at him. There are still moments when Mulder is surprised by their height difference, even after all this time. It just slips his mind until they’re face to face like this. She takes up so much space in his mind that he can’t think of her as being small.

“You’re a wonderful mother,” he tells her, his head close to hers. “You can love our kid and your work. Is that what’s been bothering you the last few days?”

“You noticed that, huh?” She says, sounding dejected.

“I’m a profiler, aren’t I?” He gives her a grin to ease the moment. “Also, I know you and I love you. You’ve been worrying about this ever since you talked to your mom about watching William.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

“I didn’t want to push you.”

“I know my mom will take good care of Will,” Scully says. “I know Will loves her. He probably won’t even miss us.” She says the last bit with tears in her eyes. “I just don’t… what if something happens, Mulder? It’s not like it was before. But I miss work. I miss – you’re gonna think I’m crazy.”

“Hey, I have decades of experience being called crazy. You? You are not crazy, Scully, no matter what you’re gonna say.”

“I miss the autopsies. I miss the dissecting, finding the clues, the reasons. I want to get to the truth of what happened to these people. Still think I’m not crazy?”

“Not even a little bit,” he says, kissing her to prove his point. “You’re brilliant at your job, Scully. I know you love it. You shouldn’t have to choose.” She nods, playing with his tie, straightening it.

“But what if… we’ve been shot, abducted, placed in quarantines. Sometimes we barely made it out of these situations alive. How can we do this to William, Mulder?” She’s sobbing and he pulls her into his arms, holding her tightly against him. She smells like William’s baby shampoo and he closes his eyes against the onslaught of emotions it brings.

“We’ll only take on cases we deem safe,” he whispers into her hair.

“That never works, Mulder. What about all your little nice trips to the forests?”

“Then what’s the solution? We give up our jobs?” They had talked about it shortly after William was born, cocooned in their bed with their sleeping son right next to them. Every breath he took seemed like a miracle. Mulder couldn’t imagine ever leaving their son for longer than a second.

Gradually, things changed with Scully being more open to handing William over to her mother, or to Skinner. But Mulder always stood guard, ready to turn the whole world upside down to keep his son safe and within his reach.

“I’m not sure I’m ready,” Scully says with a sigh. “I can’t- I think one of us should stay with him. At least for another while. I’m going to let Skinner know that he needs to find a new pathologist.” There’s defeat in her voice, a loud sadness.

“Wait a second,” Mulder says. “How about I stay home with William? We both know I’m more likely to jump on a moving train than you.” They smile at each other.

“You love your work,” Scully says, sniffling.

“Not as much as I love you and William. And not as much as you love your job. Honestly? I didn’t even miss it. I quit before Will was born, remember?” She nods. “I’m not saying I want to do this forever. We can give it a shot. You go to work, bring home the money, and I’m gonna stay here with Will. What do you say?”

“My mom is going to be so sad she doesn’t get to watch William,” Scully says after a moment of consideration. “Mulder, I really-,” he silences her with a kiss.

“I want to do this,” he says. “Do you know the southern cassowary, Scully?”

“The large bird from Australia?”

He nods, continuing, “In cassowary families, it’s the dad that builds the nest and raises the offspring. Let me be a southern cassowary, Scully.” She laughs, wiping away a few tears.

“You do know that the female goes off after laying eggs and has more kids with other birds, right?”

“We don’t have to be exactly like the southern cassowary,” he concedes, taking over to wipe away the tears from her eyes and cheeks. It’s a good thing she hasn’t applied her make-up yet. He knows she wants to make a good expression on her first day back.

Today will be her first day back and he won’t be there to witness it. He will change out of his suit, hang up his tie for good, and go pick up William from her mother’s. Excitement spreads in his chest in a way that going back to work never did.

“Good cause they’re very aggressive birds.”

“I will defend you and our son against everything,” Mulder says.

“I know you will.” Scully gets on tiptoes to press a long kiss against his mouth. Yeah, he will miss being able to kiss her all through the day. But he’ll get to kiss her goodbye every morning. That’s something, too.

“Do you think I’m being ridiculous?”

“I could never think that. Not about this, anyway,” he adds. “Let’s give it a trial run. We do this for a month and then we reevaluate the situation. Deal?”

“Deal.” She gives him another kiss. “I love you, Mulder.”

“Hmm, love you, too. Now let’s get ready, I don’t want you to be late on your first day back at work. I’ll drop you off before I pick up Will from your mom’s.”

“What will the two of you be doing all day?” She asks, walking into the bathroom. Mulder follows her, loosening his tie.

“Oh you know,” he says, grinning. “Teaching our son about the birds, the bees, and government conspiracies.” Scully throws him an apprehensive look.

“You think it’s too soon to teach him about the birds and the bees?”

#fictober2022 #if you follow me on twitter #i can tell you that this is the story that was inspired by me writing texts about USB cables #fluff today! #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic