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oohnotvery · 18 days

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Edges of the Night (Chapter 8)

Read on AO3 (I'm the_eternal_optimist).

Scully’s eyes blink open and all she sees is darkness. She wiggles her arm out from underneath the blankets and tries to check the time on her watch. She and Mulder didn’t get in bed until one in the morning, but it’s still pitch-black outside. So why is she wide awake right now?

Beside her, Mulder sleeps quietly, his gentle breathing the only sound for miles. She doesn’t know why she does it—maybe because she forgot to check on his injury before getting into bed—but she reaches over to touch his forehead. His skin feels cold. As her eyes adjust, she notices with frustration that he’s kicked off most of the blankets. Carefully, she reaches out and grabs the edge of the bedspread, then pulls it up to his chest. It’s far too cold to be sleeping without covers tonight.

Her movements aren’t subtle enough, though, because just as she’s withdrawing her hand, he loops his fingers loosely around her wrist.

“You awake?” he asks groggily, his voice rough and raspy.

She hums, biting her lip when he shifts onto his side to face her. He pushes the blankets back down to his waist and she tsks.

“You shouldn’t be sleeping without blankets tonight,” she chides. “This cabin has no heating.”

He huffs a laugh and pulls until the sheet covers his shoulders again. “That better, Doctor Scully?”

She nods and shifts to face him too. “Much.”

Silence stretches between them.

“What’s got you awake at this hour?” he finally asks.

“I can’t tell what hour it is,” she deflects.

“It’s three,” he supplies easily, as if it were totally obvious.

She frowns. “How do you know that?”

The blanket covering both of them moves as he shrugs. “Three a.m. is the witching hour,” he explains. “Haven’t you ever noticed that when you wake up in the middle of the night, the clock is always at precisely three o’clock?”

She snorts. “Considering the number of times you used to call me at all hours of the late night and early morning, no, I haven’t noticed a pattern like that.”

“Nag, nag,” he grumbles.

She fingers a loose thread on the blanket. “God, I forgot what it felt like to be this tired and wired.”

“Must have been nice, yeah? Having a normal schedule for a while,” he says tentatively.

She can practically hear the guilt and self-hatred in his voice, but still she nods. “It was nice.”

She licks her lips, considering it. For nine months, she got into bed at a reasonable hour and set the alarm to wake her at another reasonable hour. Except for her first few weeks in San Diego—when her thoughts were obsessively fixated on Mulder and before she prescribed herself sleeping pills—she slept a consistent eight hours each night, and never woke up in the middle. There were never any interruptions, even when Alan slept over. He was quiet, unassuming, opposed to watching television, and preferred to be asleep by nine or ten. And he never, not once, dragged her out of bed to chase cryptids in the forest.

Something shifts uncomfortably in her chest. She’s loath to admit—especially to herself—that she used to look forward to Mulder’s midnight interruptions. How sometimes she slept with the phone on her chest, just in case he called. How many nights, she went to bed in her prettiest pair of pajamas, just in case he showed up. How oftentimes, she felt disappointed in the morning when she was well-rested and recharged.

Back then, life was a challenge, a guessing game. A beautiful, complicated mystery that her brilliant mind couldn’t wait to untangle. And Mulder was at the center of it.

His hand brushes hers, which she’s tucked under her pillow. “What’re you thinking about? The fact that you probably won’t get any REM sleep ‘til you’re back on California time?”

She knows he’s joking, but she can’t manage a laugh. “Actually, I was thinking that my life there had become a little too routine,” she admits truthfully.

She hears the wet crack of his smile across the bed. “Is that right? You miss the hustle and bustle of being out in the field, Agent Scully?”

“Don’t call me that,” she says gently. I miss you, she doesn’t say. You let me go.

“Doctor Scully,” he corrects.

She wrinkles her nose. “God, but I’m not really a doctor either,” she confesses, and part of her really doesn’t want to admit this part to him. Part of her is scared that if he knows just how restless she’s become in San Diego, he’ll have won. He’ll get to celebrate the fact that his misguided plot to save her life actually did—for a time—save her life. No more questionable trips to the forest; no more run-ins with monsters; no more horrifying autopsies. Just boring, normal life.

She sighs. “Being in hospital management is mostly administrative work,” she continues. “Budget meetings, fundraisers. I’ve seen very little of actual practice.”

Mulder is quiet for a long time and she wonders what he’s thinking. Is he reveling in the knowledge that her life looks totally different than it did with him? Is he judging her for the path she’s on?

Finally, he speaks, his voice tinged with solemnity. “You don’t sound happy.”

She wets her lips. “I don’t think I have been,” she says softly, mostly to herself. “Not in the way I used to be.”

Her eyes pierce the darkness to glare at him accusingly.

“But the way it used to be, you were always in danger,” he argues.

“That’s what you fail to understand, Mulder,” she sighs. “You can’t make other people’s choices for them. By booting me from my job—even if it was to protect me—you pushed me into a life that I don’t recognize. A life that doesn’t make me happy. A life I never wanted.”

“But you want it now, right?” he asks. Do you want Alan, the ring, the house on the beach, the respectable career?

“Don’t ask me that,” she whispers with a shake of her head. Her hair swishes softly against the pillow.

She’s having trouble reconciling her own feelings. Sure, parts of her loved the stability California offered. It felt unbelievably good and healthy sometimes. But if she’s honest with herself, she knows she’s never been attracted to normal.

“Oh, don’t tell me you like being on the run with me,” he teases, and it’s such an easy deflection from their overly serious conversation that she grins.

“Ah-ha, I finally made you smile,” he murmurs proudly, his fingers reaching out to brush her wrist.

Her smile fades. “You used to make me smile a lot, Mulder.”

He frowns and withdraws his hand. “No, I didn’t.”

She regards him curiously. When she worked with Mulder, there were certainly moments of darkness, anger, frustration, fear. But right now, all she can remember are the times they laughed together about smalltown cops, or got excited about the same piece of evidence, or joked together at Frohike’s expense, or watched a stupid movie together at two a.m. on a shitty motel room bed because neither of them could sleep.

“I think you don’t understand what you were to me, Mulder.” She sucks in a breath. “If you did, you wouldn’t have sent me away.”

Mulder goes very still, all former joking gone. “And what was I? To you?”

She closes her eyes. She set him up for that question, but it’s something she really doesn’t want to answer. My closest friend, my biggest supporter, my fiercest defender, my protector, my partner, my challenger, my ally, my almost lover.

She snorts at that. Almost? That’s a swing and a miss. They were never ‘almost.’

She opens her eyes and sees him watching with a neutral expression. “Mulder,” she says.

“Yes?”

“That’s what you were to me. Just . . . Mulder.”

Across the dark bed, she sees the slightest hint of a smile rise to his lips. “And you were Scully.”

She nods. That feels right too. Not a federal agent, not a medical doctor, not a pathologist, not a trained investigator. That’s never what she really was, not when she was with him.

“Scully,” she agrees.

He falls quiet for so long that she’s sure he’s drifting off to sleep again. But her mind is still churning, so she prods him with her foot.

“Mulder?”

He hums drowsily.

“How long do you think we’ll be here? Running?”

He clears his throat and shifts, coming so close that she can feel his body heat. God, he is warm. Like a furnace. Maybe he really doesn’t need those blankets.

His fingertips trip across the bed to brush against her cheek, and the touch is so intimate and tender, she blushes. He shouldn’t be touching her like this. She shouldn’t allow it. “Not long, I hope. For your sake.”

She tilts her head and his fingers slip down her cheek to rest along her neck. “Not for yours?”

He’s quiet for so long that she wonders if he isn’t going to answer.

“Mulder?” she prompts.

“I can’t answer that,” he finally says, his dark eyes meeting hers.

She frowns. “What does that mean?”

He pulls his hand away and she hears the quiet tap of his fingers drumming out an anxious rhythm on the sheets. “I don’t ever want you to be in danger like we are now,” he begins carefully. “But having you close again, knowing you’re safe. Being able to talk to you, to see you in person, after nine months without . . . .” He shrugs.

“You did that to me,” she points out testily. “You sent me away.”

“I know. I know what I did.” His voice strains with regret. A beat. “Have you forgiven me?”

She blinks. “I don’t even know if that’s the right word, Mulder. I didn’t have any of the information you had back then. On the outside, it looked like you were pushing me away because you—you suddenly decided you hated me. I suspected it was because you were trying to protect me after my battle with cancer.”

“And now that you know the truth?”

She sighs, considering it. “Now that I know . . . Mulder, we’re in hiding. We’re running. All we have right now is each other. What’s important to focus on is that we’re safe.”

He snorts. “I can see that regaining whatever it was we had between us isn’t important to you.”

She groans irritably and twists the sheets in her fists. “Mulder, nine months ago you told me you didn’t trust me anymore. Then you shoved me out the door and said ‘see you never.’ A few days on the run together does not a renewed relationship make.”

He scoffs indignantly, but a slight smile catches on his lips. “Well, we can only hope that my irresistible charm and alluring features will win the day.”

In spite of herself, she laughs. “We can only hope,” she agrees.

In the silence that follows, a question still hangs over her. She fidgets with the blankets a bit before speaking. “Do you really think the ring was tracking me?”

Mulder sighs and stretches, his calves brushing her feet. God, his body takes up so much space. “I don’t know, to be honest. Alan was a pretty special guy,” he admits on a yawn. “Skinner suggested him, although if I’d had it my way, I’d have just moved out to California myself. You know I never wanted you to move away? That was a blow. I thought you’d just . . . go to Quantico. Never thought you’d move across the country. Anyways, they locked me up pretty tight there for a few weeks after you left.” He shoots her a self-deprecating grin and she shudders thinking about him in a psychiatric ward. “And Alan had special training, a medical background, all that jazz. He could slip easily into the background of your life.” He laughs humorously. “But he didn’t quite stay in the background, did he?”

She swallows against the sudden dryness in her mouth.

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

“You may.”

“Nine months. That’s not long,” he observes carefully.

She bites her lip. She knows what he’s getting at, but she won’t feed it to him so easily. “Do you have a question?”

His stark laugh shakes the bed.

“I guess I’m wondering what made you so amenable . . . so quickly.”

“Jesus, Mulder,” she chides, cheeks coloring with embarrassment.

“There had to be something about him,” he prods.

“I don’t know,” she says. “He was nice. Easy. We got along well. Mutual interests, all that.”

“Mutual interest was enough to make you agree to marry him?”

“Mulder,” she warns.

“I’m just trying to decide if it’s strange or not.”

“There’s something strange about a man wanting to marry me?”

“Jesus, Scully, no,” he huffs. “But nine months? That’s pretty quick for a person who doesn’t even commit to a new food group without a months-long investigation into the risks and benefits of said food group.”

She rolls her eyes. “I trusted you quickly,” she points out petulantly.

“You didn’t agree to marryme,” he retorts.

“You didn’t ask,” she deflects easily.

“And if I had?” He scoots closer, leaving only inches between their bodies. His eyes pin her to the bed and she squirms under the scrutiny.

“Come on, Mulder, be serious.” She pushes at his chest. “And besides, I did commit to being in a long-term partnership with you. And I committed to that very quickly.”

“You were sent to spy on me—”

“These relationships aren’t comparable!” she interrupts irritably, pushing at him until he rolls onto his back. She closes her eyes, unwilling to face him. She can practically see the look on his face right now—indignation, irritation, confusion, hurt.

But whatever he’s feeling, he stays stonily silent. It irks her. Why is he picking at this? Why is he insisting she reveal all her vulnerable places?

But if vulnerable is what he wants, fine. He’ll get vulnerable.

“If you really want to know,” she says indignantly, heat rising to her cheeks, “Alan just made sense. You—you ripped my entire life out from under me, Mulder. You have to understand, as my best friend—the closest—my closest—” Her voice breaks unexpectedly, but still, Mulder remains silent.

If he isn’t willing to participate in this conversation anymore, she’s going to make him.Sitting up, she yanks at the string hanging off the bedside lamp until light floods the room.

“Jesus, Scully, warn a man!” Mulder curses, squinting reflexively.

She turns to face him, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. Mulder grumbles and shimmies up on the bed, sporting a petulant frown.

“You—our job—that was everything to me,” she tells him honestly. “You and the X-Files were my entire life. And you took that from me so suddenly, I was left feeling untethered. I—I lost my whole sense of identity when that happened. So of course I clung to the first good thing that appeared in my life. I needed an anchor. When I was offered some semblance of a normal life, when I saw a chance to make something good out of a terrible situation, I jumped. I wanted to trust him. I wanted to love him.”

His frown has faded; his eyes are liquid pain. “And do you? Love him?”

She drops her eyes. Love. That’s a tricky word. What is one love compared to another? What is the moon compared to the sun? And how can you love an Alan when you’ve known—and loved—a Mulder?

Tears of frustration fill her eyes at the unfairness of it all. For reasons she can’t explain, she feels like she has a choice to make. But there’s not a choice, not really. Her only path forward right now is staying hidden until they’re safe. And then she’ll go back to California and figure things out with Alan, right?

Right?

Yes, of course. Because Mulder wouldn’t make sense. Mulder never chose her, not in the way Alan did. Mulder wanted to protect her and keep her safe, sure, but he never loved her. Not romantically, at least.

Her eyes spill over with tears and she doesn’t even know what she’s grieving—Alan or Mulder, Mulder or Alan. The separation from someone who loves her. The absence of a love that she always wanted and never got.

Before she has time to swipe under her eyes, Mulder scoots forward and wraps his arms around her shoulders. Tired of fighting her feelings, she sinks heavily into his chest and sighs as he strokes her hair, his touch both a soothing balm and a maddening flame. Why couldn’t they ever have this?

“I know you miss him,” he murmurs, and she squeezes her eyes shut at his misinterpretation. “I know running is hard. Being away from him is hard.” His fingertips skim her spine and she shifts to bury her face in his neck.

Those things are hard, sure, but definitely not as hard as they should be. She won’t even begin to acknowledge that maybe . . . maybe she even likes this. The running. The being away. The being with Mulder.

He reaches for the lamp and his body folds over hers, bending her slightly backwards to grab the chain. She moves with him, her liquid against his solid. When the lights turn off, he shifts them down into the mattress, arranging them so her head is against his chest. She feels his lips brush her hair as he speaks.

“I’ll get you back to your life,” he promises once again.

Her chest clenches painfully at the thought of facing a life without Mulder again. Of having had him one final time, only to get it taken away once more. She almost can’t bear the thought. It’s like reopening a wound that had been sutured tight, but hadn’t fully healed. How much will she bleed this time?

But apparently, he’s thinking about it—about the after, about what it means for them. And to him, it means separation again.

Wordlessly, she shifts, turning her back to him. He doesn’t seem to fully get her subtle message, but he understands enough, because he slips his arms out from under her. But before he pulls away, his hand falls to her hip and he ducks his head, pressing his lips to her wet cheek.

He lingers for a long moment, too long probably. Much too long.

And then he pulls away, draws the blanket back over her shoulders, and returns to his place across from her.

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

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allsortzofcrap · 2 years

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scully is a perfect character and is marred by only one thing which is the way that she is extremely misogynistic. like admittedly her hatred of any woman who knows a man she works with and/or disagrees with her in any way actually does lend itself pretty well to a repressed attraction to women (especially considering that she tends to be attracted to people who disagree with her or challenge her in some way AND the fact that she has been shown to deal with other things she cares intensely about but is ashamed of/conflicts with her established sense of self with resistance and repression) it does not eliminate the fact that she was intended to be read as a straight woman and therefore her persistent jealousy has to be considered at least to some degree as a male fantasy that imagines women as obsessive and territorial due to what i can only imagine as an inherent primal woman ness that cannot be subsumed by valiant attempts at logic and reason

#x files #mysoginy

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pinehutch · 4 years

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Even more me! (People who meet me in real life tell me I seem chill. This is likely a misunderstanding based on the conflation of soft hair and bod and big eyes with something other than whatever is actually going on in here.)

Tagged by the always on my list of mutuals-I’d-like-to-grab-a-drink-with, @elliebear75. ❤

Top 3 ships: (in no particular order)

This is awful. I don’t have these kinds of loyalties. Is the writing good? Do I like something about it? I’m there!

1. Hringhorni, according to legend.

2. Me/Not Making Decisions

3. Yearning/The Resolution of the Yearning/A Little Ongoing Yearning (as a treat)

Last Movie:

How embarrassing is it that I genuinely can’t remember? Ugh, I’m the worst!

Last Song:

I’m currently listening to “Young and Foolish” from Everybody Digs Bill Evans while drinking my sensibly-priced bottle of red wine on a Friday night, pretending I’m not a caricature or someone who spent an hour trying to figure out how to buy a new washing machine in a pandemic.

Reading:

About to start @elliebear75‘s book of postcard fiction, In the Absence Of.

What food are you craving right now?

Nothing in particular, actually. Maybe a bit of dark chocolate or some cheese and good bread, but I’m not hungry or craving, really.

Thank you for the tag! I would tag some recent peeps in my notes @stonelionhearts, @aeide-thea, @caitlinthinks, and @ineffably-effable and anyone else who would like!

#okay but if held at knifepoint #in a sexy way #varric/hawke #ineffable spouses but especially wives #scully/mulder #i am deep in it with actual canon and narratively important jonmartin right now #i just need people who challenge and respect each other and are friends OKAY #cassandra pentaghast slash my broken heart #shakarian #picard and crusher my god they get accidental telepathied in canon and everything my GOD #i have read some incredible cullrian fics but it is a ship that can also be really disappointing #my girlhood self will never not be disappointed that emily and ilse never got to be properly in love in the way i was trying to read there #oh fine anne and gilbert I GUESS #fem hawke / isabela #pwyll twiceborn/jaelle oh yes i went there #this is why i don't have favourite ships you guys #it's just a mess

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marshmallow-xphile · 3 years

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My thoughts on the sexuality of some of my favorite X-files characters.

I posted this in my X-files amino back in June as part of a LGBTQ pride challenge and for some reason I only just thought to post it here as well.

Fox Mulder: openly bisexual

Mulder is so open sexually that I really don't think gender matters all that much to him. He does seem to prefer females but I wouldn't be even remotely surprised if he had a boyfriend or two in the past. I don't think he's flamboyant about his sexuality but I don't think he'd hide it at all either

My evidence:

In the season one episode "Ghost in the Machine" we meet an Mulder's ex-partner, Jerry, and I absolutely feel like there is an ex-lovers vibe to the both of them. They hug upon first seeing each other, Mulder looks incredibly happy to see him, when Mulder says they worked together Jerry corrects him to say they were partners at which point Mulder looks over at Scully as if to see her reaction. Mulder has this real guilty look to him. When Jerry acts a little self conscious Mulder is real quick to jump in and reassure him. They get in each other's personal space. It just really leaves me with the impression that they care deeply for one another and broke up for other reasons, perhaps the different career goals as Mulder tells Scully.

We also have Mulder with Krycek. From the very beginning of Krycek's involvement with the X-files I feel like the writers went out of their way to make a correlation between the change in partnership and a new partner in a relationship. There is a scene in Sleepless where Mulder and Scully are on the phone and Mulder tells Krycek he'll be right there, the rest of the conversation feels reminiscent of two exes chatting about the change brought about by the new relationship. Scully even brings up that it must be nice having a partner who doesn't question his every theory.

There were many scenes in Sleepless, Duane Barry, and Ascension in which Mulder and Krycek were alone but that we never got to see who knows for example what the two of them got to talking about while they were stuck in traffic during the drive to New York in Sleepless. Or how often they hung out between Sleepless and Duane Barry.

During Mulder and Scully's partnership Mulder only called her 'Dana' on a few emotional occasions. He started casually calling Krycek 'Alex' almost immediately.

Let us not forget the infamous speedo scene. While yes it definitely showed more of a Krycek attraction to Mulder than the opposite. It does make one wonder what led him to wear such a revealing bathing suit. How many straight men do you know who wear speedos? My guess is few. How many straight men wear speedos when they can reasonably assume their male partner will show up looking for them? Not many would be guess.

And then there is their relationship after Krycek is revealed to be a traitor. They both tend to act more like scorned lovers than enemies and notice that it's Mulder, not Krycek, who cannot seem to keep his hands off the other. Seriously it's like every time Krycek shows up, Mulder immediately grabs him.

Now here's a couple quotes from Mulder,

Krycek tells Mulder he most be losing it because Krycek beat him with one hand. Mulder's immediate reaction: "isn't that how you like to beat yourself?"

When the little man in Humbug is lined up pretty much exactly with Mulder's crotch he says that Mulder would be surprised how many women find his size alluring. Mulder's immediate reaction: "you'd be surprised how many men do as well"

How many straight guys do you know comfortable enough with their sexuality to make a gay innuendo? I personally cannot think of any.

Dana Scully: bicurious

I believe that Scully is sometimes attracted to women. It definitely is not as blatant as with Mulder and I really don't think she's had any past girlfriends but I definitely think that there is an attraction.

My evidence:

In the episode "Ice" I really felt like there are a few tender moments between her and Felicity Huffman's character especially while they were examining one another for the worms. That examination had a sort of sexual energy to it I thought.

In the episode "kill switch" theres a moment where the Invisagoth asked if she could have her handcuffs removed or if she should type with her tongue. Mulder mentions that she doesn't want a vote there and the look on Scully's face and the way she licks her lips, I definitely get the impression that she would have been perfectly happy to see what Invisagoth could get up to with that tongue.

Some people point to Scully's relationship with Reyes as evidence of her bisexuality, I personally don't see any attraction there on Scully's side but I don't think its outside the realm of possibility.

Monica Reyes: Closeted lesbian

This one's probably a surprise I know there was something between here and Brad as well as a flirtation with Doggett so you would probably think she was Bisexual but honestly was either one of those even remotely convincing? To me they weren't. I believe that Reyes is a lesbian.

I kind of go back and forth on whether she's open about it. Reyes is very spiritual and open so it seems strange that she would be in the closet but maybe she has a reason, fear of it affecting her career in the FBI perhaps? It just seems strange that she keeps pursuing these heterosexual relationships she has no passion for unless she is trying to hide her true passion.

My evidence:

I admit I really have very little evidence but look at the relationship between Reyes and Brad Follmer. It had all the chemistry of two people who got really drunk once and cannot remember sleeping together. I don't for a second believe she was ever in love with Brad nor he in love with her.

Then you've got the same thing between her and Doggett. Yes the writers were obviously trying for a romantic angle with the two of them but to me it never came across as convincing. It seemed more like she thought of him as a good friend and figured she might as well date him, I saw no evidence of love or attraction.

On the other hand look at her and Scully. While I feel like the attraction there was one sided I definitely feel like Reyes was into Scully or Dana as she would call her. Reyes was willing to risk her life for Scully and yes that is her job after all but Reyes seems to take that above and beyond and it's not just Scully herself but also William. Look at how protective Reyes is of William in The Truth and of the sacrifice Scully made in giving him up. She seems to care even more than Mulder on that.

Cigarette-Smoking-Man: Asexual

CSM has probably had sex at some point, he is of course the father of at least three children but I do not think that he was ever in love with any of these women or even attracted to them. I believe they were all just a means to an end.

I believe that CSM's only love was for his cigarettes

Evidence:

There is a little bit of evidence that he might have actually felt something for Teena Mulder but I don't buy it. He freely admits that he felt nothing for Cassandra Spender but he must've been convincing if he got her to marry him and we have seen him fake emotions more than once. He also seemed to show an attraction to Scully in En Ami but that too was just a means to an end. Perhaps he does feel something towards all the women he has impregnated but I wouldn't call it love. I don't see any real attraction there either. My bet is that CSM needed some "help" in order to produce his offspring.

Alex Krycek: Gay

While Krycek did have an obviously sexual relationship with Marita Covarrubias he definitely didn't have any real feelings for her and I don't buy attraction either. No I'd say they were both just trying to use sex to get what they wanted. His anger at finding the Russian boy gone wasn't because he was heartbroken at her betrayal. Merely mad that she'd managed to get the upper hand.

Whether Krycek is open or in the closet I'm not sure, I'm thinking it probably depends on the mission hes on at the time.

Evidence:

Of everyone on this list I'd say Krycek is the one I'm the most sure of. There is no doubt in my mind that Krycek was attracted to, perhaps even in love with, Fox Mulder. From the very beginning there appeared to be a bit of longing in his eyes.

There was the speedo scene wherein Krycek was definitely checking Mulder out. There were several scenes where Krycek could've killed Mulder but chose to help him instead.

As I've seen pointed out before, Krycek's crazy motivational choices don't make any sense at all unless it's all in an effort to be around Mulder more.

Look at his sense of style and his obvious love for lip gloss. I am not saying that straight men cannot love lip gloss and dress themselves in Krycek's fashion but it is uncommon and it was especially so back in the 90s

The infamous kiss in The Red and the Black could certainly be explained away as some kind of Russian custom but it isn't one that I am aware of and he hasn't really shown any other signs of his Russia heritage.

I would say my best evidence of Krycek's sexuality is in Essence and Existence, just look at the look on Krycek's face when Mulder trusts him to protect Scully. Krycek knows what Scully means to Mulder and then look at how seriously Krycek takes the job! I definitely feel like that moment meant a lot to him and he would have protected Scully with his life for Mulder.

There's also the fact that Krycek's unwillingness to kill Mulder lead to his own death.

Of course asking Skinner to shoot Mulder goes against this theory but I do have a couple thoughts on that, the most sensical being that he knew there was no chance Skinner would shoot Mulder and he probably knew there was no chance he would survive anymore. Maybe he made that request in hopes of sparing Mulder any pain he might have otherwise felt at his death (I know it's a bit of a stretch but my other theories require a long explanation of my thoughts on where the series had planned to go next)

The lone gunmen: no one knows....not even them

Three (I don't count Jimmy for this) single adult men who all live together in very cramped quarters and are, at least in Langley's case, perfectly happy to be around each other without thier clothes on certainly makes it seem like there's something between them all but I really don't get a overtly gay impression with any of them, even Langley who as mentioned doesn't like to wear pants and is the only one who hasn't had a love interest. They just have this sort of Vegas-esque thing. "What happens in the bachelor pad/newspaper room stays in the bachelor pad/newspaper room.

I would love to hear other people's thoughts on these and any other X-files characters you think might be somewhere on the LGBTQ spectrum.

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

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Damsels, by SisterSpooky1013

Chapter Two: Assignment

Read chapter one here / Rated E

Tagging @today-in-fic

Tense. Awkward. Ambiguous. There are many words she might use to describe her relationship with Mulder at the moment, none of them particularly pleasant. As things between them become more intense, it’s getting harder to ignore the fact that their feelings for one another are beyond those of friendship, partnership, or even family. The problem is, neither of them seems willing to risk an overture bigger than a New Years kiss, an offer of wine and cheese, a night of baseball, or even a request for a sperm donor. The little gestures that say they want more pepper their interactions, but the grand gesture is yet to be seen. They’re in a standoff; guns drawn, but no one is willing to fire the first shot. Stalemate. Conundrum. Catch 22. Stuck.

An idle Tuesday afternoon spent completing case reports is both a treasure and a torture. The smell of his cologne when he leans over her desk to point out a typo makes her dizzy with desire. His boyish smile at his own cheesy jokes begs her to kiss his pouty lips. Just the shadow of his presence, his tall frame looming over her like a safe harbor, makes her ache. She wants to be near him, but being near him is a test of every shred of self control she possesses. How she has not yet climbed into his lap on his flimsy office chair is a minor miracle.

For this reason, being called into A.D. Skinner’s office for an impromptu meeting is a welcome reprieve. Mulder is perplexed as to why they only requested her but she shrugs him off, promising to fill him in on the details when she gets back if he finishes the case report he’s been toiling away at for the better part of the day. He gives her a coy smile that makes her belly do flips as she pulls the door closed behind her. Each step she takes away from the basement releases her from the pull of his nearness and she’s able to breathe easier, but knows she’ll start to miss him within the hour.

When she arrives in Skinner’s office, she’s surprised to find that A.D. Kersh is also present. A most unpleasant surprise, given their history.

“Agent Scully, please take a seat,” Skinner directs her, and she sits in the empty chair beside Kersh. This is normally a situation in which Mulder would be by her side, which adds to her discomfort.

“Agent Scully,” Skinner begins, “you’ve been requested to assist in a special investigation being handled by Kersh’s team. It’s an undercover operation.”

Scully’s eyebrows lift in surprise and confusion. “Is Agent Mulder also being requested, sir?” she asks, wondering if this would be a repeat of Arcadia. Though if they went undercover as a married couple now, things may play out a bit differently than last time.

“No,” Skinner continues, “you, and you alone, have been specifically requested. Agent Mulder will not be needed for this investigation.”

“Can I ask why?” she queries, characteristically being respectful of the authority of the men in the room, while also skeptical of Kersh’s motives.

Skinner looks to Kersh, silently signaling him to take up the explanation.

“Agent Scully, this case requires an undercover operation in search of a missing young woman,” Kersh explains in his deadpan, unfriendly demeanor. “Mila Chamberlain went missing from her New York apartment four months ago. Her parents have connections with the bureau by way of a scholarship they fund. They believe that Mila is being held against her will in Philadelphia by a man named Ricky Dean. Our investigation so far has been stalled by the fact that Mr. Dean has a very tight circle and no one is willing to talk. At this point we believe an undercover agent is our best opportunity to locate Mila and extricate her from the situation she’s in.”

Scully listens quietly with her hands folded in her lap. When Kersh finishes, she looks to Skinner to gauge his response, then back to Kersh. She has a feeling there’s something they aren’t telling her.

“What’s the assignment, sir? What is it that I can provide or do that the agents in your division can’t?”

Kersh looks at Skinner and waits.

“Agent Scully, Ricky Dean is the owner and operator of a large and very successful gentlemen’s club in Philly,” Skinner explains, forcing eye contact that clearly makes him uncomfortable.

Scully juts out her chin and looks at him expectantly. It would appear that she has to pull teeth to get the details of this case. “What is the assignment, sir?” she asks again, clear irritation in her voice.

Kersh pipes in. “We need an agent to go undercover as a dancer, Agent Scully, to get close to Ricky and the other girls who work there. To locate Mila and extract her from the club.”

Scully’s mouth falls open slightly. She has to be missing something. “A dancer? Forgive my candor, sir, but am I to understand that you’re asking me to go undercover as a stripper?” She works very hard to keep the edge out of her voice.

“That’s correct, Agent Scully,” Skinner replies. “If you recall, when you signed on as a Special Agent with the FBI you agreed to investigate and solve cases by whatever means necessary.” It seems that Skinner has rehearsed this well. He’s ready for her objections and has prepared rebuttals, though the flush on his neck gives away just how uncomfortable this conversation is for him.

“I do understand that, sir, however I can’t help but wonder why I specifically am being selected for this assignment. I’m assigned to the X Files. This is not an X File. Surely an agent in A.D. Kersh’s division can assist with this.”

Skinner shifts uncomfortably in his seat and avoids her eyes. She looks at Kersh, openly frustrated. “Sir?” she asks.

Skinner speaks, looking at his desk. “We require an agent with a certain…look. Age demographic, physical…features. They have to be able to get a job at the club without the opportunity for a plant. They have to walk in off the street with the certainty that they’ll be hired,” he raises his gaze to look at her. “There is no one on Kersh’s team who fits that description.”

Now it’s Scully who blushes. They’re assigning her to this case because they think that she, of all people, can get a job at a strip club. She swallows hard.

“Sir, with all due respect, I’m very uncomfortable with this assignment.” She looks back and forth between the two A.D.s, directing her plea to whichever she might be able to sway.

“And with all due respect, Agent Scully,” Skinner replies, pulling rank, “we are asking you as a courtesy. Need I remind you that you are not at liberty to pick and choose which assignments you take?”

That’s it. There’s no option to back out or say no. All she has hope for is to try to negotiate some of the parameters. She looks at her hands, which she hadn’t realized she was wringing in her lap. Her skin is now mottled and red.

“I understand, sir. If I may, this sounds like a very…sensitive situation. One in which other agents being aware of the assignment could compromise the case.” This is her very professional way of saying that if the guys in the bullpen get wind that Agent Scully is on assignment as a stripper, they will surely pay a recreational visit to the club. She’s been through a lot and there are many challenges she knows she can overcome, however her coworkers seeing her in such a degrading situation is not something she is capable of surviving.

“Of course, we’ve considered that as well. No one other than myself, A.D. Kersh and the lead investigator on the case, Special Agent Wiley, will be aware of your assignment. We have and will continue to go to great lengths to protect your privacy on this, Agent Scully.” Skinner has softened just a bit now that he got past showing Kersh that he can compel his agents to toe the line as well as any A.D., even unruly ones like Mulder and Scully.

“What about Agent Mulder?” she asks, lifting her gaze. “I don’t mean to be dramatic, sir, but if he finds out about this, he’ll…I’m honestly not sure what he’ll do but I don’t imagine it will be pleasant.” She pictures Mulder storming the strip club, throwing her over his shoulder and hauling her out of there like she’s a wayward teenager. That’s the only scenario even worse than the assignment itself.

Skinner nods solemnly. “Yes, I’ve considered that as well. You’ll tell Agent Mulder that I assigned you to assist with a case at Quantico and that you’ll be away for a few weeks. Tomorrow morning you’ll be transported to your temporary residence in Philly and you will cut all contact with him, and I do mean ALL contact, Agent Scully. I’ll deal with him after you’re gone.”

“Thank you, sir. Is there anything else I need to know right now?” She feels nausea creeping up her spine.

“That’s it for now, Agent Scully. Report to my office at 0400 hours tomorrow. You’re to bring nothing. Not your wallet or your service weapon, and definitely not your cell phone. Everything you need will be supplied to you.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

She stands and leaves his office, a lump forming in her throat as she blinks furiously against the tears that threaten to break loose. Once in the hall, she makes a beeline for the ladies room and spends the better part of 20 minutes calming herself down. This is a living nightmare. She can’t even begin to think about what she’ll be asked to do. What absolute depravity she’ll need to bear witness to, much less participate in. Only two people other than her doctors have seen her in anything less than a bathing suit in the last 7 years; Ed and Mulder. The idea of taking her clothes off in front of anyone, much less men there for the express purpose of ogling her, makes her physically ill. There’s a strong possibility that she’ll deliver a right hook to the first guy who lays a hand on her and get herself fired, which might actually be the best case scenario.

And Mulder. She has to lie to Mulder. Even if she gets through the initial lie, she’ll have to come clean eventually. What will he think of her? This might seal her fate with whatever is going on between them. Knowing that she has done this, that she has degraded herself so completely and defied her own morals in such a profound way, could change how he sees her irreparably. After talking herself down from quitting on the spot several times, she leaves the bathroom and heads to the basement.

Mulder has his feet propped up on his desk, the completed case file stacked neatly in the corner as he flips through a stack of photographs. When she pushes the door open, he smiles broadly and she feels a clench in her chest.

“Hey, you’re back. That was a seriously long meeting. The case file is all done, so what’s up?” he asks, bringing his feet to the floor and propping his elbows on the desk.

“Oh, nothing exciting.” She’s already unsure if she can fool him. “They need some help at Quantico, a big case with a heavy autopsy load, and Skinner is going to reassign me for a few weeks.”

He looks at her quizzically and she feels her pulse quicken. “Really? What case is that? I don’t think I’ve heard anything about it.”

“Uh, I’m honestly not sure, he didn’t give me much information, just said that I needed to report there tomorrow.” She busies herself with organizing the papers on her desk, taking mental note of the fact that she won’t be returning for quite some time.

“Scully, you were gone for like an hour, he didn’t give you any details?”

Her brain scrambles for an excuse. “Oh, yeah, I was only in Skinner’s office for about ten minutes. I ran into Agent Vincent in the hallway and chatted with him for a bit.”

Mulder narrows his eyes while she does absolutely everything other than look at him. “Agent Vincent? I thought you hated that guy. You called him, and I quote, ‘dumber than a bag of hair.’”

Her fight or flight response kicks in and she whirls to face him, irritation bubbling to the surface. “I said I talked to the guy, Mulder, not went on a date with him. He asked for some help with a case he’s working on. Am I not supposed to speak to anyone but you?”

He puts up his hands in defense. “No, I didn’t say that. Sorry. Forget about it.”

“I’m gonna head out early, I don’t feel all that well. Can you make sure these reports get submitted with yours?” she asks, setting her four completed reports on top of the one he’d finished in the same timeframe.

“Uh, yeah, of course. Are you getting sick?” Concern clouds his features; he’s always so worried for her health.

“I’m fine, Mulder, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She collects her briefcase and coat and makes for the door.

“No you won’t,” he says as her fingers grasp the handle.

She freezes, thinking she’s been caught. She turns to look at him, but his expression is neutral.

“You’ll be at Quantico, right?” he offers.

She exhales deeply. “Right. Yes, I’ll be at Quantico.”

“Maybe we can get lunch. Email me when you know what time you can sneak away,” he says, leaning back in his chair and picking up a baseball from the surface of his desk.

“Okay, I will. Goodbye, Mulder.” She takes a long look at him, not sure when she’ll see him again.

“Later, Gator,” he replies nonchalantly, tossing the ball in the air and catching it as she pulls the door closed behind her.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #msr #x files #x files fanfic #case fic

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thespookyintrovert · 3 years

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When beauty calls

1,294 words ● Canonical, post S11 ● Just a short little scene ● Notes at the end ● tagging @today-in-fic

I hope this makes you smile and sigh as you read, just as it made me smile and sigh as I was writing it. I don’t pronounce it to be good, but I’m happy I wrote it.

____

There is an exalted kind of beauty. It’s the beauty of starry nights, whether painted by divine hands or composed of swirling strokes on canvas. It’s the beauty of woodnotes, a natural symphony which exists only for the attentive ear; and the beauty found in a concert hall, made up of haunting notes rolling into a crescendo.

Then there is understated Beauty. It seldom reveals itself, choosing instead to remain enshrouded in banality, brushing only against those who dare call it by name. That diaphanous Beauty belongs only to the commonplace, weaving itself with ease into the everyday movements that make up the course of a lifetime. It is there, if only one knows where to look.

“Mulder, this is ridiculous.”

Ah, if couches were ever rewarded for being the silent witnesses to so many of these domestic disputes. If only the reliability of worn leather was ever a consideration to couples such as this, mindlessly counting on its strength to hold up their bodies and their words. But alas, an ode to furniture was the farthest thing from Dana Scully’s mind this chilly night.

She was focused on one thing with steady intensity, and that was ending a stalemate that had been going on for months. Ever since they had discovered the tiny human currently dancing around her womb was a girl, she hadn’t known a moment’s peace. It should have been simple enough to choose a mutually satisfactory name, but it turned out to be a matter in which they both had strong opinions. Opposing ones. With a sigh, she contemplated how the world kept turning and turning and some things never changed.

“Nag on me all you want, Scully, I’m not backing down.” Mulder’s smile was impish, his tug on her toe fond. She remained, however, unmoved. The bulging stomach between them, currently obscuring her own feet from view, was but one reminder that they had four weeks left to come to an agreement. Aching back, swollen ankles and perpetual indigestion added to the effect of a generally less than sunny disposition. She was no longer in her thirties, and every year of her 54 was felt this pregnancy.

Still, her fingertips traced adoring circles around her belly button, every kick to the ribs met with a grunt and a smile. Yet she kept it to herself, leveling on Mulder the stern gaze he had claimed from her as his own over twenty years ago. She did not want to let him do away with the argument this time.

“Do you know why it was so easy last time?” He gave her a mock skeptical glance before turning back to his Sasquatch documentary, but it didn’t deter her in the slightest. “Because I picked the name, and you couldn’t argue with me about it.”

He actually laughed a little. “Scully, I’ll go out on a limb here and say that given our family histories, the chances of William having a different name were slim to none.”

She held back a longing sigh and proceeded to ignore him. “My point stands.”

A quiet snort, followed by the gentle clasp of his fingers on her swollen foot. “No, it doesn’t.”

She felt less inclined to argue as she savored the feeling of his fingers massaging the aches away, but still refused to surrender the attempt. “Don’t think you’ll distract me from this. Mulder, I’ve already proposed a perfectly reasonable solution: I get the first name, you get the second name; everybody’s happy.”

His look was wry. “Or I get the first name and you get the second name. Admit it, Scully, the second name only exists on paper, no one will even know it’s there.”

Her head fell back against the couch, for a moment fancying herself a long-suffering saint singing her frustration to the heavens. If only age had softened Mulder’s stubborn edge as it had softened the angles on his face; it was unfair, wrestling with the spitting image of his thirty-year-old self when she wasn’t even sure she’d recognize herself from twenty years ago. “Sure. Fine,” she said, head still stretched back, “you can tell your daughter whose fault it is that she doesn’t get a name until her 18th birthday. Assuming we both live to see it.” The last part was a dry murmur, meant only for God.

“Mhmm.” She felt his lips on her stomach, then, curving around its roundness with the stretch of a smile. Her gaze didn’t acknowledge him, but one of her hands landed amidst the softness of his hair, sweeping off any residual harshness with gentle strokes. This was their rhythm — the never-ending cycle of verbal spars that was as comfortable as it was challenging. No matter which one came out on top, in the end they knew their places to be side by side; with every smile and every touch the slate was once again wiped clean, no scorecards kept. Beneath the frustration, her whole being still hummed to this tune that was all their own.

And thus came Beauty, summoned by the unwitting siren call of a heart that chose love.

Finally lowering her eyes, the scene before Scully seemed to stretch until it wrapped around her entire world. She saw Mulder, face on her belly, alternating between nuzzling with his nose and sending whispers to the baby in a hushed baritone; they were not meant for her, but she basked in the vibrations of his voice, watching every crinkle on that beloved face as it shifted and pressed words into her skin. She saw her hand in his hair, noticed how it felt the same between her fingers as it did twenty years before. She saw past and future entwined around her finger in gold, glittering as it ran between strands tinged with grey.

She drank in every detail as if at any moment she might be called upon to paint it from memory. Never before had that corner of the world seen such loving gaze; never before had the night breeze found fingers gentler than its own, or the cackling fire eyes that could match it in warmth. They were all silent witnesses to the most mundane of miracles; they, who had beheld for roughly two thousand years these rippling echoes of another miracle, one even more singular in its lowliness.

She knew they’d be arguing about this again tomorrow. She also knew they’d be lying like this again tomorrow, after all had been said and done, chasing away small everyday annoyances on the leather couch. Mulder raised his head to look at her, hooded eyes smiling, and her own lips melted into a soft curve. At the end of the day, their life together was all the more dear for being made of all these little contradictions, the seams an ever-present reminder that they were two individuals bound together by choice as much as fate.

Perhaps it had taken them over twenty years to find their place in the world, to craft a life dictated by will instead of circumstance. And perhaps many, upon looking in through any window of the little house, would have concluded that the life they chose didn’t amount to much. But as blue met grey over the belly that protected this second chance they never thought they’d get, they both knew it amounted to everything.

Beauty left a little piece of itself in that unremarkable little house, nestling inside two hearts determined to see it in the little things, to call it by name, to touch it with the hands of love. It swept into the creaky floors and through the drafty rooms, kissed each smiling face on the mantle — each of them precious, so many gone. It blessed the little white crib and the old rag doll lying expectantly upon it.

______

Notes:

1. I chose not to address the whole William mess because a. CC doesn’t deserve my efforts and b. this was really not supposed to be complicated.

2. Let me know if you caught the little easter eggs sprinkled in there!

#msr #fanfic #txf fanfic #the xfiles #mulder x scully #mulder and scully #dana scully #fox mulder #msr fluff

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melforbes · 3 years

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seaglass blue annotations

hello! i just posted the last chapter and thought i’d put together some ~fun context~ for that fic. it got way way more attention than i ever expected and for something i feel i didn’t put that much effort into i think i did in the end put a lot of effort into it so i might as well talk about it and answer some potential questions.

my favorite book of all time is the sunlit night by rebecca dinerstein (yes, that one) and something i find really compelling about that book is how sparing the prose is, forcing the reader to fill in certain gaps, and i think having to fill in those gaps makes the book a really acquired taste with which either you love it or hate it and there’s not really an in-between

i also really adore how in that book the natural world backdrop comes to life, something i find really challenging to write. recently i even read into thin air, the book about the 1996 mount everest disaster, and even though the writing was superb, i still had to google what the hillary step was because i couldn’t picture it on my own. i don’t know how people write nature because to me it feels damn near impossible, but this sparing approach really worked, so i thought i might try it out. i tend to be longwinded (gestures vaguely at this post) and wanted to have certain parts of this be a lot smaller and more contained without negating impact. whether or not i made it work is anyone’s guess. definitely not my normal style, so to speak

based on the comments i’ve received i think this might be everyone’s favorite part. in my mind age of consent by new order was playing in the background. in pretty much every fic i have a scene like this one and all of them are based on the poem first base gold by rh*annon mcg*vin from her book branches (censored because she has a tumblr and i don’t want her seeing this haha)

i absolutely can’t do the poem justice by describing what it’s about, but the simplest, most basic interpretation of the poem is that there is no better place to kiss than right here, right now, because of the past. i really like that imagery and tend to use it a lot. she as a writer has been a big inspiration for me and if you’ve read my fic true minds i should add that the nonfiction inspiration for that was directly as a result of one of her youtube videos. i particularly love how the last paragraph (stanza? im not a poet) is one big run-on sentence that’s jovial and tongue-in-cheek and colloquial and straightforward. it feels triumphant in a quiet way to me and i love how it’s done. obviously my attempts at something similar are nowhere near as insightful, but still, the most basic image of this is that there is no better place to kiss, and that’s how i felt about the two of them finding pudding in the supermarket

this part is autobiographical; while writing this last year, i went through six months of intravenous drug treatment, a month and a half of which involved long days of doctor visits on every weekday. when you’re on stuff like that for a long time you end up with a central line for better access (potential plot hole in all of this: scully never had one) but for a month and a half i got poked almost every day and strangely enough it got harder over time. the first couple you never feel, but a week or two later you start flinching, and if the needle goes in the same vein each time, it hurts the more it gets prodded. i reached a point toward the end of the in-office visits in which i would bleed a lot every time i got poked, and i can’t watch anything like that happen to me so i was looking away each time, and when i felt that the nurse was done, i would look back over, and sometimes i would be looking down at a pool of blood that i hadn’t expected to see. it’s weird, you don’t actually feel yourself bleeding, i would’ve expected a hot bloody feeling but instead it felt like nothing. and when i say a pool i mean that it would drip down beneath my elbow, stain the sheet they’d put underneath, and i wouldn’t get all of it off until i showered. i didn’t necessarily find it scary, but it was surreal and kind of pulled me out of normalizing the experience i was having. for a very long time needing iv drugs was my greatest fear and i was surrounded by that then and fine, and then, there was blood all over my arm, and like, haha, this is actually not fine. you’d think something else would’ve been scarier, but it wasn’t. and now looking back at this paragraph i wish i’d edited it differently but hey that’s life

i’d never really understood the purpose of religion as a self-driven part of life until i took anatomy in college. i was raised catholic and though culturally i understand having a religion and being raised with one, i’ve never really reached for religion when i wanted answers, and i haven’t personally understood why that’s someone’s first option. and i know there’s been plenty of commentary on the hypocrisy of dana scully as a catholic who believes in science, yada yada yada, i think everyone has read all of that by now. but what struck me while learning anatomy is that there is a kind of neuron we don’t know the function of. there are four kinds of neurons, and one of them is still a mystery to us. and then, there’s all of these different parts of human bodies that exist in a certain perfect way, but why do they exist like that? to support life, yes, but why is it that we can make comparisons? why were irises not the same color? and we name valves of the heart after religious figures. we are so hell-bent on meaning that something literal will never be enough. and all of that made me think that dana scully has god to fill in what science won’t answer, at least not yet. and there’s definitely a bigger conversation about science as denial of indigenous cultures that i am nowhere near qualified to start. after taking those classes, i think i would be more shocked if she wasn’t religious. you can ignore pretty much all of the paragraph above but it was important to me that at some point in this fic she willingly conceded that she didn’t know what would happen and that she didn’t have answers. with illness, there is no logic, there’s no thinking your way out of it, and i think that would plague her for a long time. to me, she only would accept her death when she could say she had no idea what would happen, she has no answers, there’s nothing filling in her gaps anymore, and she’s comfortable with that. and i put all of that in a paragraph about my thoughts on god because it made sense to me. there are times that just feel like you’re in a movie and there’s no one else you can say caused them. it’s not enough to build belief on but it’s enough to bring a certain kind of wonder. also one time my parents insisted on watching stripes because it was so funny and when watching it none of us found it funny at all and my parents grimaced and were like what were we on that made that good back in the day so that’s in here now haha

and now, the biggest question: does she die at the end? when i came up with the idea for this fic, i knew the beginning and ending but not the middle, and i posted this as a smaller project (ie: chapters below 3,000 words) while illness made my bigger projects harder to work on and essentially flew by the seat of my pants the whole time. i wrote the last line a long long time ago and have always seen the ending as written as the concrete ending. when i started writing this, i never intended for there to be a definitive answer to whether or not she dies. i like premature endings (the ending of girls burn brighter comes to mind) and i think that this works better without saying whether or not she lives. and i also have a hard time with giving a definitive answer because this fic very much is about death and having her die would, of course, be traumatic, but showing her living instead i think ruins any takeaways people could have. i’ve never had cancer but as a chronically ill person i think i can speak to how you never actually win with illness; the best you can do is tie, and sometimes, no matter how much effort you put in, you “lose” anyway, you lose spectacularly, and all of your effort was for nothing. i wholeheartedly believe that humans can’t emotionally or logically process natural disasters or illness, hence why much of the talk about illness in this is from mulder’s perspective as he experiences her terminal illness secondhand; that way, he doesn’t need to (but still likely will) find logic or reason or meaning for death from a terminal illness, so his discoveries and his coping mechanisms aren’t as urgently needed. had i written a chapter that describes how she lives, i think that the discussion of death in this would be voided altogether. and i also don’t believe the ending would be much different whether she lives or dies; there’s still the need for death acceptance and talking about dying, whether or not she lives, and none of the story in this fic would have happened had the characters known she would live. the whole point is not knowing.

for a little while i toyed with writing an unofficial sequel of sorts in which i spelled out what i think happens after the ending, but after realizing that that would end up being longer than the original fic and would also have some massive plot holes, i decided against it. i do have my own version and i don’t want to share that version because i never really intended for my version to be some kind of genuine sequel in which every question gets answered and everything is wrapped up and happy ever after and whatnot. it was just where my brain wandered in the same way it wanders when i watch an open-ended movie. all of that to say, if you think she lives, then she lives. if you think she dies, then she dies. it’s your decision. i’d much rather you choose than me. i never marked this as “major character” death on ao3 because, well, she doesn’t die in this fic. whether or not she dies after the fic ends, that’s for you to decide.

thank you for taking the time to read my writing. i never expected this to blow up (it blew up for me at least, for a while it was my most popular fic ever, with i think thousands more hits than anything else i’d written) and the response has been mind-boggling and wonderful. i don’t respond to comments often because it makes me feel like a pompous jerk (”thank you for enjoying this! i, too, enjoy this thing i have written! oh ho ho!” is how it sounds to me in my head, whereas when other writers respond to comments to me it just looks like thanks man have a good day, feel free to call me a weenie) but i’ve appreciated all of them very much. THANK YOU! i hope your new year is a Whole Lot Less Shit than 2020. i don’t plan on writing more msr because i don’t really have any ideas for them. thank you for making my last time special <3

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dreamingofscully · 4 years

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6x16. “Alpha” - X-Files Rewatch

This episode is all about Scully being the Alpha, who marks her territory (Mulder). What casefile? Through this lens, I really enjoy this episode. You wouldn’t think there would be much to analyze here BUT BOY YOU'D BE WRONG. Also, there’s so many corny jokes, I love it.

Scully arriving from elsewhere in the building with her coat/briefcase seems to indicate she has an office elsewhere in the building. Perhaps she requested somewhere close to the labs? It’s super cute that she comes by to check on Mulder before she leaves. Despite how uncomfortable she was with his silliness in “Arcadia”, I think things are good between them now.

“Aren't you going home?” - Scully “I am home. I'm just feathering the nest.” - Mulder

This is cute, but also kinda sad. The work is his life, how can it be any different?

Mulder subtly trying to get Scully interested in the case.

The desk lamp is POINTED AT THEIR PICTURE. Awww. ❤️

“What happened to the dog?” - Scully “Dog gone…. Dog gone… Doggone.” - Mulder, proud of his joke “Yeah, I got it.” - Scully

Sitting closely, and Mulder being even more of a dork than usual with his corny jokes. Scully loves it though. They’re so happy to have the X-Files back. Life is good for a little while.

THEIR CUTE SMILES AND FLIRTING ❤️

“Don’t mind him, he’ll go on forever.” - Scully

Mulder has definitely missed going on long monologues about weird shit in front of local law enforcement.

Of course Mulder’s heard of the animal. He has had even more time than usual lately to cram his brain with random strange things.

“You get a biscuit, Scully.” - Mulder, with more stupid jokes. But he’s gazing at her here, so we’ll forgive him. I’m not even mad about it anyways.

Their cute banter in front of the worker installing the fence at Karins. SO FLIRTY. (Also, being mistaken for a couple again!)

“You two looking for Karin about boarding?” - Stacy Muir “No, it's actually more of a behavior problem.” - Mulder “Yeah, he doesn't listen and he chews on the furniture.” - Scully, glancing at Mulder

Inside Karin’s house, Mulder’s random touch and Scully’s shiver in reaction. Reminiscent of his two-handed touch in “Arcadia” - is that done deliberately? Scully doesn’t seem uncomfortable, but shivers in reaction, as if she definitely enjoys it. Oof. Things are REALLY good between them.

Scully Being Territorial, Exhibit Number 1:

“How is it that you know so much about her but you don't know what she looks like?” - Scully “I never actually met her.” - Mulder “But you assume that she's going to help us?” - Scully “No, actually, it's not an assumption. She is the one who told me about his case.” - Mulder “Oh, so you two are chummy?” - Scully “Well, I've read her books.” - Mulder “Ah. The Wolf Inside... Dogs Don't Lie... Better Than Human... Better Than Human?” - Scully “She's not a real people person.” - Mulder “Well, she seems to have made a connection to you.” - Scully, looking at the I Want To Believe poster on her wall (highlighting it with a desk lamp, sound familiar?)

Standing close by the bookshelf.

Mulder introducing himself as “Fox”, what? It probably has to do with her obsession with canines. They probably joked about his name, and it’s what she would refer to him as in their emails.

This would make Scully feel even more uncomfortable/jealous

Scully Being Territorial, Exhibit Number 2:

“Mulder... She's a friend of yours?” - Scully “We met on-line.” - Mulder “On-line…” - Scully “Two professionals exchanging information.” - Mulder

Standing close in the alley/crime scene.

Scully Being Territorial, Exhibit Number 3:

Her expression when Karin shows up, and calling her “wolfwoman”. (Recognize this? She made a similar face in “Syzygy”.)

Karin’s “Classic dominant alpha territorial behaviour” when talking about the police officer being killed.

By contrast, Scully doesn’t need to be aggressive or violent to assert her dominance - just needs to exist. ❤️

Scully Being Territorial, Exhibit Number 4:

Mulder touching Karin’s hand on the computer mouse. Scully notices, shoots Mulder a sharp look. She immediately starts questioning Karin’s ideas. Her EXPRESSION. She thinks she’s figured Karin out, that she is attracted to Mulder, and she’s not going to let her get away with anything. It’s not only possessiveness but protectiveness. She only recently got Mulder away from the clutches of Diana, and she knows how vulnerable he is to women that seem vulnerable themselves.

Scully Being Territorial, Exhibit Number 5:

In the car, Mulder knowing something’s wrong with Scully

Scully warning him: “She's enamored of you, Mulder. Don't underestimate a woman. They can be tricksters, too.” (I think this is also a veiled reference to Diana, that Mulder does NOT get, nor is he meant to.)

Mulder is gullible and oblivious when it comes to certain women, and Scully knows it!

Mulder gives her a curious look - thinks she’s jealous, perhaps?

Scully won’t tolerate anyone trying anything with Mulder, she’s fucking had it. After dealing with Diana so recently - no one else is going to try anything. She’s getting ahead of something before it develops. Mulder is empathetic with people who are different/loners (Oubliette/Mind’s Eye). He CAN be manipulated by a woman with a sad story.

Scully Being Territorial, Exhibit Number 6:

Going to see Karin alone, confronting her about her intentions with Mulder. Look at that lean forward.

Scully’s “With Mulder, you found somebody you could communicate with.... someone who challenged you... But that wasn't enough. You needed to lure him out here.”

She knows what having a special connection to him feels like!

Karin’s “I lack your feminine wiles.” (Which is hilarious, because when it comes to Mulder, Scully doesn’t have ANY of that manipulativeness that she implies.)

“I'm watching you.” - Scully “You watch... But you don't see.” - Karin

Perhaps Karin did mean to lure Mulder out here to meet him, and she does lie about the creature. HOWEVER...

Once she sees Mulder and Scully together, she abandons her ideas of deepening her relationship with him. She sees what everyone else does - that M&S are incredibly close, that their body language and glances to each other suggest that the only person in the room that matters to each other is them. Karin’s suggestion here (to the case I’m sure) is also a reference to what Scully can’t see is right in front of her - that there’s no reason for her to be territorial because Mulder only has eyes for her.

I also believe Mulder would have mentioned Scully to Karin. She’s such an integral part of his life. Once Scully shows up, things “click” for her, she understands that she has no chance.

Mulder trusts Scully’s judgement, goes to see Karin for himself and asks about being misled. (This is a pretty big deal.)

Karin - she loves Mulder, in her way. He's a kindred spirit, like Scully says, the only other human she knows that she actually likes. Once she realizes that he belongs to another, that he has someone who is a good person (based on how her dogs react to her) and will look out for him, she realizes what she needs to do to stop the animal - risk and (potentially) sacrifice herself. After lying to Mulder about what she thinks the animal will do next, and he goes to Scully, she LOOKS AT THE “I WANT TO BELIEVE” POSTER. Did she choose to wrap it up and send it then? In essence, disconnecting herself from him, and giving him a gift as her last goodbye?

I love that Mulder calls Scully to the hospital so they can do the surveillance TOGETHER. ❤️ Mulder’s “You should take a load off. We might be here all night.”

Scully’s “So, what is he going to do? Walk in here, skitter across the linoleum and pee in the corners?” is so cute. And Mulder loves it when she jokes. Like I said earlier, they are in a good place again.

Scully Being Territorial, Exhibit Number 7:

“Mulder, the only thing Karin Berquist is interested in is you.” - Scully, to which Mulder seems bashful about it. He’s so oblivious about women being interested in him. It’s adorable.

When Scully takes his magazine she sits a bit further from him than normal. She’s uncomfortable with her jealousy, tries to distance herself from it’s source.

Of course Scully falls asleep. ❤️ I love how she can sleep anywhere. She’s SNORING (quietly) - IT’S SO CUTE I CAN’T EVEN--. 😭 He’s gazing at her while she sleeps, then wakes her gently with the magazine. ❤️

At the ending, Scully’s tenderness about Mulder losing his friend is touching. The whole episode she was antagonistic towards Karin, thinking she had an ulterior motive, but in the end she did something altruistic. She was Mulder’s friend, and proved that in the end she wasn’t a bad person, at least in some ways. Scully knows he’ll blame himself, as well.

They have a really sweet interaction here. Scully making sure he’s okay, Mulder reassuring that he will be, talking about how he “believed her too quickly”. (He is a learning animal. Oh shit I made another corny joke, my b.)

The lamp is still aimed at the picture of them in the office. Like a fucking spotlight saying “THIS PLACE IS OURS.”

Scully Being Territorial, End Notes

I’m partially being silly when talking about this aspect of Scully’s personality, but I have to discuss a few things.

After the shit they’ve been through with Diana, I can’t blame Scully for overreacting and being protective of Mulder, not wanting to see him manipulated again.

That being said, this isn’t the first time she’s been possessive when it comes to him. I think it’s probably one of her flaws - she can get irrationally jealous when Mulder gets attention from another woman. It’s NOT just protectiveness but stems from her longing for something more with him, her fear that someone will swoop in and take the place in his life that she wants. I can empathize with that, I suffer from terrible jealousy sometimes myself (so perhaps this is a bit of self-projection, but hey, this is my analysis, so that’s what I see).

I absolutely love Scully, but I love that she seems like a real character, with flaws and eccentricities that truly make her unique.

#xfiles #x-files #x files rewatch #x-files rewatch #msr #msrheadcanon #mulder and scully #fox mulder #dana scully #season 6

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shewantedtobeasecretgirl · 4 years

Text

10. Bathroom wall (Part Three) a.k.a. a queen bee, Prince in the shower and a backup Casanova

In the previous parts: The bunch spends a free evening in a bar, where local girls are trying to get closer to the band members. Dave suggests Jeff that he should make Judy jealous but she’s too busy with being outraged about a girl named Claudia dancing with Stone. Finally, Claudia backs down; after a fight with Stone, Judy reveals to Karrie, that her made-up stories about Stone had to do something with her reaction. In the meantime, Mike is feeling sick and refuses Karrie’s advice to take his health issues more seriously. She also shows him pictures of Effie but Mike’s evening ends with a surprising twist. Judy tries to calm down with the help a relaxing shower but she gets unexpected company in the common bathroom…

@shadowsonoureyes I think I almost completed your drabble challenge 😉

“I got a lion in my pocket and baby he's ready to roar…”

God, I wish this was only a nightmare and I woke up suddenly realizing nothing of this madness has happened actually, maybe I could even laugh at the whole setting. But now, laughing is the last thing I feel like doing, I’ve been standing here since who knows when, I’m freezing, I wanna finish my shower, I wanna dry myself, I wanna get out of here… this with the lots of “wannas” sounds like some random lyrics of The Ramones… But as things stand at the moment, I’ll grow old and die here because this skinny hippo has been splashing beyond the wall for at least fifteen minutes, performing the longest and most inconsistent mix of Prince songs ever, deliberately altering the lyrics, changing the range of lines or even skipping some of them whereas repeating other ones infinitely like a broken record player.

“You got the horn so why don't you blow it…”

Actually, I’ve even started playing with the idea of turning the water on again, maybe this capybara enjoys listening to his own voice enough not even to hear it. But no, that’d be too risky. But I could definitely get rid of the shower gel bottle to be able to rub along my body against cold, I’ve been squeezing that little plastic flask at full strength since he entered here, as if it could help me become invisible. I slowly stoop to place it on the ground in the corner feeling like a compromised spy who’s ordered to put her weapon down without making any suspicious or ambiguous move; but due to the slippery surface under my soles I lose my balance and as I catch towards the wall to prevent myself from falling I drop it… and it lands with a loud crash in the metal shower tray. Fuuuuck… I freeze immediately and perk up my ears holding my breath trying to figure out if he heard it too… of course he heard it, it was as ear-splitting as a rocket launch but maybe he was too distracted and…

“Is somewhere there? Who’s that?”

He heard it…

“Who’s that? Scully? Is that you? Don’t be so shy, we’ve known each other for ages, I’ll even wash your back if you need help…”

Okay, Judy, you can’t hide any longer, you have to find out something, anything… what if I just ran out with a battle cry and grabbed my towel and… okay, maybe something more discreet would be more adequate.

“Scully? I’m coming over…”

“NO!!!” I scream.” It’s not Scully… it’s me… Judy…” I manage to reveal my identity only for the third attempt since my voice won’t obey and insists on sounding comically high-pitched. “And thanks but I’d skip the offer, I can reach my back.” Jesus, I don’t know why I’m babbling this, it’s like…

“Oh… I didn’t know it was you. Actually, I thought I was alone, you were so silent… I couldn’t even hear the water running at you…”

“Because… because… it wasn’t running since… it’s a part of my shower routine, I begin it with hot water then I turn it off and stand a few minutes until I start feeling I’m freezing, this method works wonders on the blood circulation…” I basically yell the end of my bullshit excuse since I turned the water on in the meantime to finally put an end to this awkward situation. Unfortunately, when I turn it off, I can hear he’s still humming, seriously, how much time does he need to dry his balls?

“Anyway… you were right.” he speaks up out of the blue.

I was right? Meaning what? You’re a pervert? You’re a bitch who would bang everything that moves?

“The acoustics in this room are truly excellent.”

You don’t say…

‘I’m flattered by the fact that once in a blue moon you are willing to agree with me. And, uhm, I’m ready with my shower and as you’ve probably already noticed, my towel is hanging on the wall on the other side so… so I’d feel honored if you left…”

“If I left?”

Yes, I mean get the fuck out you pig, you heard it well.

“Why would I leave? I want to enjoy these fascinating circumstances a little bit longer…“

I should have known this wouldn’t be easy, this must be like a dream come true for him: holding me hostage, taking advantage of my miserable situation…

“But seriously, just listen: I really get a dirty mind whenever you're around… Awesome!”

I roll my eyes so hard that I can see my own frontal lobe… Being forced to listen to Stone’s falsetto serenade while being butt naked, fuck, I didn't know what I was missing in my life until now.

“What do you want? Should I sing a fuckin’ duet with you for my freedom?”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually… what about Together Forever by Rick Astley?” I hear him snapping with his fingers and giggling at his brilliant idea.

“Well, the performance of Under Pressure would sound more honest from my mouth right now…”

“You’re just so negative, nothing can please you today seemingly. But as a sign of my generosity, I’m ready to give you that towel.”

How can a voice be so irritating? This nasal tone with the mannered Northwestern accent makes sound everything what he says extremely annoying, I could punch him even for citing the headlines of a newspaper.

“Ha-ha, very funny, Gossard. But let’s skip your cheap tricks and move your aaa…self out of here.”

“Cheap tricks? I don’t think there’d be anything interesting to see here, plus, you’re forgetting about a very important factor: I’m out here wearing a towel whereas you are in there wearing nothing so it is me who makes the rules. But, again, I’m a genuine guy so I give your towel to you, all you have to do is to ask me.” the pain in the ass goes on with his rant.

“Okay. GIVE ME THAT FUCKIN’ TOWEL!” I scream angrily stomping of helplessness.

“Why do you have to be so rude? You’re hurting my sensitive soul all the time; if you want me to cooperate, you have to be kind and ask me nicely.”

Once I get out of here, I’m going to fuckin’ kill you, I swear, I’m going to kill you ten times, I’m going to kill your reincarnated bodies too even if you will be reborn as a cute kitten or a baby giraffe…

“GIVE ME THAT FUCKIN’ TOWEL! Please?” I yell again and append a fake, cheesy appeal to my words.

“You see? It sounds immediately completely different.” he snickers satisfied.

“Okay, but we have to clear the logistics first. I think the least awkward way would be you standing facing the door, handing the towel backwards to me and I would reach out for it and…”

“Do you really think I wanna peep?” he asks with amused smugness in his voice.

I do? I don’t? Shit, there’s no right answer to this question, I mean, I’m not interested in him at all, I don’t care what he might think about my look, my body, I don’t even know whether he would think anything at all or he’d just act neutrally like I wasn’t a woman or human at all but fuck, I’m a human, I’m a woman, I could be the possible subject of a guy’s interest too and when I mean “a guy” I don’t think necessarily about him although he’s a guy too…

“I don’t give shit about what you want, what I want is to minimize the level of my retinal damage by not seeing your face, so please do me a favor, turn away from me and give me that goddamn towel.”

By the time I’ve finished the sentence, a pale body with something bright blue at waist-level appears on my horizon with funny side-sliding steps. He’s standing with his back to me, as far as I can judge it even without my glasses, my assumption is only based on the dark trail of his hair on his back. Or he’s an aberrant psychopath who covered his face with his hair to deceive me. He pulls my towel off the wall… okay, that means he’s truly facing the opposite wall unless his shoulders are especially flexible… damn, he reaches it backwards to me lifting his arm to the same height… I’m still not sure about his exact posture…

I slowly walk to the edge of the shower tray, hesitating for a few seconds which one of my body parts I should keep covered before reaching out for it. With a deep sigh, I opt for my breasts and try to grab my towel but there’s still almost a one-yard distance between our hands.

“Stone… you’re too far… could you come closer?” I moan in agony.

“Interesting… until now, you wanted me to go away and now you’re asking me the opposite. Or you’re just trying to trick me into touching you and then get me arrested for sexual assault… no, Camden, I don’t buy it. Anyway, walking backwards is dangerous, what if stumble and fall and break my neck? It’d be safer if you came out of your hiding place, you can’t spend the rest of your life there when I’m gone, I don’t care…”

I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this but I obviously have no choice… I approach him with sneaking steps while terrible thoughts are chasing each other in my mind… What if he can rotate his head 180 degrees like owls? What if he’s got extraordinary eyes like chameleons and due to his particularly developed peripheral vision he can see basically everything around him?

As I finally touch the terry cloth fabric, I immediately tear the towel out of his hand and wrap it around myself. His arm swings automatically back to his body as if it was pulled by a spring and while I pull back into my shelter to dry all my body parts, he keeps standing at attention on the same spot.

“Ahem… I’m ready so… you can go…” I make an attempt to get rid of him.

“You’re not a quick learner… and you’re pretty ungrateful… I haven’t heard the magic word yet.”

I can’t believe this. And I can be grateful to him for not humiliating me even more…

“Thanks…” I mumble.

“I didn’t understand it… it’s strange, the acoustics in that corner must be different, it absorbs sound waves…”

“Thank you, Stone Almighty Gossard, nothing could express my eternal gratitude, you’re my savior, I’d be nothing without you, from now on, I’m your slave!!!” I shout paying special attention to my articulation.

“Could you hear the echoes too? Much better.” he clicks with his tongue satisfied and disappears from my sight with the same hilarious moves he made earlier. “Good night, Judith, and if you happen to have erotic dreams this night, please keep them for yourself, I’d feel embarrassed if you told me about it…” he adds and as I open my mouth for some snarky retort, I hear the door slamming.

Finally. This… prick is just unbelievable, after his performance at the bar he thinks he did me a favor by not behaving a like a perv? And erotic dreams? Come on, I’d rather puked myself to death of his sight.

I have to use the awkward choreography I invented earlier to get back to my stuff I left on the chair, although I myself don’t really understand either, why, I’m alone after all... As I lean down for my glasses, my fingers reach out for… nothing. They’re gone! I grope the whole chair along… still nothing! I put down the shower gel bottle and try to crouch down to check the floor under the chair, which is not easy to do at all without exposing my intimate body parts. I keep adjusting the towel with my left hand while I try to scan trough every inch of this goddamn place with the other one and I’m about to drop the freakin’ towel when I hear a weird noise from behind my back. Snorts… silent snorts… like someone was suppressing laughter… oh shit. That moron, that son of a bitch… he’s Satan, I told it.

I straighten up as fast as I can, I can only hope he didn’t see my backside or my nipples or… why can’t I die here and now without more suffering?

As far as I can see him without my spectacles, he’s leaning against the sink and checking me out with folded arms.

“Taking away my glasses? That’s the most creative idea you could find out? Seriously, where are we, in third grade maybe?” I attack him but in the meantime I realize I should calm down, seeing me being upset is probably his favorite entertainment. “Okay, Gossard, go ahead. I don’t know why you crafted this vicious plan with trapping me here, taking away my glasses, stalking me… let’s get over with it, whatever you want…” I shrug resigned.

“Firstly, I didn’t know you were here, I just came in since I have the right to have a shower too. Secondly, I have nothing to say to you, it is you who should talk.”

“Me? Do you think I want to have a chit-chat with you here and now? Are you completely nuts? Just give back my glasses and get out of here!”

“Well, that has a price.” he answers irritatingly slowly, I can hear clearly he’s grinning.

“Is this a blackmail?” I scream outraged.

“Why do you have to use always such tough words? It’s a… mutually beneficial offer. You want your glasses whereas you also owe me an apology and I’m ready to accept it.” he explains with fake generosity.

“I’m not gonna beg you, you idiot.” I hiss between my teeth and grab towards his hands but I’m not fast enough to catch him off guard. He raises his arm high before I could get my property back and smiles down at me with a smug expression.

Does he want me to bounce like a puppy? Well, I won’t. Actually, the only possible weapon that comes to mind is as childish as his stupid little trick but the end justifies the means… But I have to be quick since my one hand is busy with keeping the towel around my body and I don’t want to grope him for too long time either. But he didn’t leave me any other choice, unfortunately.

“Fine, Stoney…” I pretend giving in. “You’re right. So listen to me carefully because you’re not going to hear this from me too often…”

“I’m all ears.” he spreads out his free arm.

Piece of cake.

“Sooo…” I approach him cautiously “Stoney, I just want to say… TICKLE ATTACK!!!” I yell and poke my fingers between his ribs.

The effect is beyond expression. He immediately doubles over letting out a wide range of animal sounds and it only takes a few seconds to tear out my spectacles of his hand maintaining the offensive with my other hand.

“Ha, victory!”I yell chuckling at his convulsion but as I hear a weird noise over his whining, I immediately stiffen. “What was that?”

“What’s… what?” he asks still groaning.

“Didn’t you hear that? I think someone slammed the door…” I stutter as I place my glasses on my nose. “And that means someone had opened it before… and maybe saw us…”

“Bullshit. And even if it happened as you think, all that could be seen was you committing sexual harassment on me so…” he smirks sassily leaning back against the sink.

What an obnoxious asshole. And he’s also wearing flip-flops, which I’ve always hated on men, seriously, I could slap him with them…

“Sexual harassment? I would rather jump on a male tapir than engaging into an erotic intermezzo with you!” I tuck my hair nervously behind my ear.

“You and a tapir? I wish I could see the offsprings…” he keeps grinning and flips his wet hair back… actually, it’s surprising, usually, he’s not a big hair washer. A tiny waterdrop is swinging on the end of one of the dark strands that are wavier than usual, this must be their natural state… then the drop slowly falls on his shoulder and follows the line of his collarbone, changing direction at his neck only to gain momentum and now it’s pulling a trail along his flat stomach and…

“Ahem…” he clears his throat “shall we go? Or do you want to examine my naked body for a while?”

“Let’s go” I start like I was waking up from a dream and I can feel my cheeks are burning for some mysterious reasons. “But you go first, I don’t want to make myself ridiculous in front of more people tonight.”

“Okay, okay…” he walks out with lazy reluctance. “All clear!” he shouts and I put my head out of the door to check he’s not trying to trick me again. How can he walk so leisurely, isn’t he bothered by the fact he’s almost naked? And why did he wrap that towel so tightly around his waist that it shows every curve of his…body parts…?

“Do you want to spend the night in there?” he suddenly turns back and I can only hope I managed to look away fast enough.

“No… no…I’m coming…” I mutter and follow him in duck walk, squeezing my toiletry bag.

He stops at his door and leans with one shoulder against the door jamb, of course he wouldn’t miss out my clumsy performance.

“Wow, gracious. You were born to the catwalk.” he giggles.

“Shut up or I scratch your eyes out!”

“Okay-okay but I hope we can agree that we’re even.” he waves an imaginary white flag.

“We are. And I say now good night before you happened to die under unclear circumstances.”

“Good night, Miss Hundred Pounds of Concentrated aggression.”

His audacious grin mellows into a boyish smile and I don’t know if I am only hallucinating or for a fragment of a second, he scans me from head to toe…

He pushes himself away from the wall and disappears in the dark room, leaving me frozen in the hallway. I stumble back to my room and I plop down on my bed. But what was that stare? He was probably just mocking me as usual, he’s surrounded by beautiful girls and he must find my dwarf body structure ridiculous. But he said we’re even… I stare at the toiletry bag on my lap, although I didn’t turn on the light, its pattern is clearly visible in the street lights filtering through the torn curtain. Musical notes, treble keys… wait. He claimed he didn’t know it was me in the shower. But who else in the bunch would have a bag with these motifs? He knew it was me. He knew it and he still came in. He wanted to humiliate me, it wasn’t just an embarrassing coincidence. Stone Gossard, we’re everything but even.

***

„These piggies are so cute.”

“Yes, they are totally adorable.” Layne agrees observing them with a tender smile. “Look at their mom, how patiently she’s bearing as they’re pestering her… geez, some of these little fuckers are pretty aggressive… look at that one!”

He points at a spotted piglet which is the greediest in the bunch; I don’t know much about domestic animals, I can only guess he’s a tiny boar. He’s tossing away all his siblings to get free access to his mther’s teats and even after he gets one of them, he keeps her poking with his power outlet-shaped nose. Well, moms are the most patient creatures on earth, I’m sure I’ve caused a lot of trouble to mine too…

“I wonder if we can stroke them, their hair seems to be so fluffy…”

“A bit later, now it’s mealtime. Their mother is very protective of them, she would bite your fingers off… I think she’s going to pass out in a few minutes, you can try to grab one of them while they’ll be playing around her.” the farmer-looking guy answers. He can’t be much older than us but he speaks in a slow, prudent manner, which makes him sound like a grandfather. He must be an employee of this place… whatever this place is…

“Effie would love them.” Layne remarks, still fascinated by the nursing process.

Effie? Layne knows Effie? Interesting.

“Is she here too?” I stutter confused.

“Of course, dude, you bought her here, remember?” Layne glances at me and raises one eyebrow.

“Really? And where is she know?” I scratch my chin still not understanding how she got in the picture.

“She stayed in the house. She was interested in the greenhouse and the gardener happened to be there, you couldn’t drag her away from the orchids. Seriously, Mike, are you stoned our what? You should take more care of your girlfriend if you want to take this thing between you seriously.”

Girlfriend? Effie is my girlfriend? Okay, that sounds strange too not that I want to complain…

“And… what’s that house you mentioned?”

“Shit… I’m not gonna help you out with weed ever again, this stuff has obviously terrible side effects on you, you’re like a drunk goldfish. Hey, Jer, tell to this asshole where we are!” he shouts at his approaching bandmate.

“Estamos a la hacienda Cantrell, hombre! This my ranch! And in a few hours, we’ll be eating the best food you’ve ever tried, Consuela is the most badass cook in the entire world! But we have the whole afternoon, I want to show you my new golf course, we could even play, I have tons of golf clubs, I can lend you one of them…”

Wait, something’s wrong here. I know they have their share of success because of this Seattle madness too, not that they don’t deserve it, they are a fuckin’ amazing band but I never knew Jerry had a ranch, I mean, it must have cost a buttload of money and however much I like him, I must admit he’s not that type who prefers savings to poker, dope and strippers.

“How… how long have you owned this… this huge farm?” I wave around clumsily trying not to sound too stupid.

“For like… ages…? Hahaha, man, I know my beautiful maids drive every man crazy, that was my point when casting them and choosing their uniform. But you can’t complain either, I checked the little blondie out, nice catch! That cola bottle-shaped body, damn…” the skirt-chaser underlines his words by drawing the mentioned contour in the air flashing a filthy grin. I don’t like this tone, I don’t like the idea of Jerry talking about Effie or looking at her, fuck, I don’t even like the idea of any member of Alice In Chains staying in the same state as her for more than three seconds.

“But first, we have to choose the dinner. Which one do you want?” the guitarist nods towards the pigpen and knowing his dirty humor, I’m not sure whether he refers to any food-related or he’s called hookers or what?

“How… how do you mean?”

“Mike, this is definitely not your day, just pick one!” Layne giggles glancing amused at his bandmate.

“But… what?” I still don’t get where this whole thing is going.

“Geez man, okay, I”ll do it for you. Come on, little dudes, it won’t hurt, I promise you!” Jerry leans over the fence and grabs two piglets by the skin around their neck.

“No, no, are you trying to say we’re gonna eat them? No, never, this is the cruelest thing I’ve ever heard, you can’t…” I protest shocked but the asshole doesn’t give a shit about me and carries the two victims under his arms to the pickup standing close to us. He ignores the desperate squeals of the poor little things: he throws them in the truck bed and climbs after them.

“Jerry, where are you going? You can’t… stop, don’t do that, man!” I yell almost crying but he just keeps laughing with that typical, pedophile Santa Claus laughter of him.

“What do you think, for what purpose do I breed them? They are cute and all but just think about a crispy, red, roasted pig spinning on a skewer over the fire… yummy… Consuela has a secret recipe, it’s delicious. I takes hours to prepare it, though, but I think I can keep myself busy until then, you know, that blondie is waiting only for me…” he winks and I catch to my stomach. Effie… Jerry… no, that can’t happen, I think I’m going to vomit, Jesus, this is terrible…

He pats the side of the truck bed twice, signaling to the driver that he can start the engine.

“Yes dude, until the pork gets ready, I’m gonna bang Effie… bang Effie… bang Effie… bang Effie…”

His words get mixed with the squealing of the piglets and the roar of the engine and the terrible sounds keep echoing in my head distorted by the Doppler-effect until the car disappears on the horizon.

“Bang Effie… bang Effie… bang Effie…”

…

I wake up with a start. My heart is beating so fast that it almost rips my chest, the blanket is soaking wet of my sweat, even my hair is stuck to my head and neck. This was the worst nightmare I’ve had in the past years… wait… if it was a dream, why can I still hear the snorts?

I slowly turn my head in the direction of the sound and suddenly, everything falls into place. The girl with whom I spent last night is snoring next to me… Her red lipstick and black eyeshadow is smeared all over her face making her look like a slutty panda bear and the little stream of drool in the corner of her mouth makes it even worse. Thus passes worldly glory… not that I have any right to criticize her look, I must look like crap too and honestly, I also feel like that. My head is about to explode, my intestines are burning… but I can only blame myself and that bottle of pure vodka we consumed last night together. At least the sex was satisfactory... yes, satisfactory is the best term, not more, not less. The beginning was creepy, though, with those weird outbursts of her about her nonsense prohibitions… I mean, who the hell wants to do stuff like that? Poor girl, she must have had hard sexual experiences. But that cowboy roleplay could have been even good with the hat and slight bondage elements and all… but her exaggerated behavior kept it in conditional. After all, we both got what we wanted and I don’t have to feel guilty. I didn’t force her, she offered, I just played along… it was basically her who fucked me. I don’t know if it had anything to do with me being the guitarist of Pearl Jam but even if it has, come on, is that really such a terrible crime if the “also ran” member of the band takes advantage of his situation once in a blue moon? The girls are never cueing in front of my hotel door, I deserve to have blast when a rare occasion occurs for some mysterious reason. And I don’t owe anyone any explanation, the guys and Eric are not my chaperones, I’m a single guy with needs and I can’t live in a fantasy world for good, pathetically sobbing after someone I haven’t even met yet, right?

Hydration. That’s the first thing I need right now. The only problem is that she’s sleeping with her limbs spread in four different direction and her left arm happens to rest on my chest. Shit, I wish I had left after we finished it as I always do after one-night stands, it spares both the girl and me awkward morning scenes, these things are not about romance, anyway. But this time the sex was intense and the booze was kick-ass so we both must have passed out after getting on top.

I try to slide out of the bed basically in horizontal position placing the pillow on the same spot where my upper body used to be hoping she’s sleeping deeply enough not to notice the change. I freeze when she lets out a few louder snorts after my maneuver but after a few satisfied smacks, she calms down and keeps snoring. I tiptoe around the bed to collect my clothes and I found all of them except my boxers… fuck, she must be lying on them. After a few seconds of hesitation I get dressed without them, they’re clean since I didn’t have any “accident” yesterday so trying to get them back is not worth risking.

I silently walk out in the kitchen and immediately spot a few bottles of mineral water on the counter… but taking one of them would be stealing, right? But if I turned the water on, she might wake up… I open all of the cupboards until I find a larger glass and turn the water tap cautiously until a thin spout starts running from the pipe. It takes a while until I fill the glass with this method but I gulp the content of it with one breathe in a blink of an eye.

My rumbling stomach directs me to the fridge, even if I don’t want to take anything, I can check its content, right? The cool breeze feels unbelievably good as I lean into it… let me see… further bottles of water, some milk, a piece of moldy cheese which probably isn’t supposed to be moldy, expired yogurt and a bunch of bananas. Shit, banana is my favorite fruit, the best resource of potassium and I’m dying to eat one. But I decided not to steal anything… but come on, it’s only a banana.

As I’m about to leave the crime scene, I notice a notepad and a pencil on the table. Maybe… maybe leaving a note would be a polite way of giving an explanation for what I did, right? Yeah, that’s it! Okay… “Dear…” Fuck, what was her name? Clarissa… Claudette… CLAUDIA! “Dear Claudia,” Shit, this is going to be harder than I thought… should I thank her for the sex? “thanks for the evening. I didn’t want to wake you up so…” so I ran away like a coward “I decided to say bye in this note. I was really hungry so I served myself with a banana.” and last night I served you my banana, Jesus, I’m a gross pig. “Sorry for doing it without asking, as an apology, I drew you another one.” I try to sketch the schematic picture of a banana but it looks like a nonfigurative or even phallic symbol from any possible angle. Shit, I can’t leave it like this. Luckily, the pencil has a quality eraser on the top so I can make the terrible scribble disappear and correct the message. “I drew you the only thing I can draw:” I close my eyes to recall the logo I’ve copied everywhere more times than anything else… “KISS” at least I can still do it… I go over the message again, I think it’ll do the trick. “I wish you the best, Mike”. I stop in the kitchen door on my way out. Even a KISS logo can’t undo a theft. I should offer her some compensation… I walk back and grab the pencil again. “Ps. Next time we come to Charlotte, I’ll invite you for a coffee.” But what if we bump into each other anywhere else? “Of course I also invite you in case we encounter anywhere else.” Okay, ‘Cready, you don’t have to write an epistle, you don’t have to surpass Tatiana, just leave finally before she wakes up. But what if… what if she doesn’t like coffee? Now that I glance around, I can see no coffee machine here… “Ps2. In case you don’t like coffee, my offer applies to tea or soda too, of course.”

Okay, enough, she won’t even notice, who the hell takes inventory about bananas? I shake my head, take a deep breath and sneak out of the apartment.

***

Coffee. The first thing that comes to mind in the morning. I know I drink way too much coffee but caffeine addiction is sort of an inevitable outcome if you’re a rock musician at nights and an espresso guy at daytime. Of course the receptionist or janitor or whoever confirmed my initial aiming: this shitty motel doesn’t sell any food or drinks apart from the broken vending machine in the corner of the lobby. He also said I can take all of its content if I manage to fix it. No, thanks, the late seventies-looking chips bags with their probably fossilized content aren’t particularly tempting.

I’m heading to the bistro on the other side of the street, it’s probably not much better than that place but a coffee without hair in it and a decent breakfast would already satisfy my needs. On entering I must admit, the smells are better than expected and as soon as I take place in a booth, a polite waitress appears at the table handing me a menu and producing a cup out of the blue. She immediately fills it with the hot beverage I was longing for. A cigarette would feel good with it too but there’s no one around I could grub from…

I’ve taken only a few sips of my precious drink when I see a familiar hat appearing at the entrance and in a few seconds, its owner plops down opposite me, munching a banana.

“The prodigal son has returned, huh?” I remark with a wide grin.

“I know you missed me, just admit it.” he answers with a deadpan. “God, I’m starving…” he grabs the menu and begins to study it.

“A coffee, sir?” the waitress emerges again and spills coffee in his cup too without waiting for the answer. “What can I get for you?” she inquires helpfully as she pulls a small notebook with a pen out of the pocket of her apron.

“One Aspirin and a bullet in my head, please.” Mike groans with a dark face.

“Excuse me sir?”

“Give us a few more minutes, please.” I try to send a “don’t ask” signal with my eyes and it seems to work because she leaves with a confused nod.

“The last time I saw you, you felt sick. But somehow you must have resurrected like a phoenix from its ashes since you were out all night… so… go ahead.” I lean back but my bandmate is avoiding my gaze, turning his head around like he was distracted by the interesting furniture of the diner.

“Look, it’s Judy over there!” he shouts pointing at the counter.

“Mike… no… please…” I groan in pain but it’s too late.

“Hey Jude!” he shouts and waves frantically.

Great… I bury my face into my palms.

Unfortunately, Mike comes to the brilliant idea of stretching his leg along the seat he’s sitting on while she’s approaching us; so by the time she gets to our booth, her only option is sitting down next to me. Which she isn’t willing to do, she’s just sending reproving looks at me until I realize the reason of her reluctance is my right arm on the backrest. When I remove it, she slides in the booth as far from me as possible, she’s probably sitting with half butt on the air.

“Hi Judy.” Mike greets her pulling his small metal flask out of the inner pocket of his jacket.

“It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.” she tries to tear it out of his hand without even greeting us.

“Easy Jude, it’s empty, okay? It’s just a bad habit that I keep checking it.”

“Anyway, I doubt he would begin the day with spirits, seeing he was drinking the whole night…”

“What?” she screams outraged.

“Jesus, are you blind? He’s, like, the quintessence of hangover, circles under the eyes, grey face, he looks like a dirty dish cloth…”

“Jesus, guys, do you really have to talk so loud??? Anyway, thanks Stone, you know how to compliment…” Mike moans rubbing his forehead with his hand.

“I’m just telling the truth. Come on, tell us how did you get so fucked up… or… no… I don’t want to know the details.”

“You probably think I got wasted with a few local dudes I don’t even know and I fell asleep in the corner and when I woke up, I realized someone had drawn a dick on my cheek.”

“You left out the pissing-and-puking part but yeah, sort of. Ouch!” I whine when she tosses me with a strict face at full strength in the shoulder. “What’s wrong with you, do you think he’s a saint or what?” I complain.

“Don’t even listen to him, unlike him, I’m interested in the details. So tell me… were there pubic hair on the dick too?” she leans closer confidentially, flashing a cheeky smile and however much annoying I find her, I can’t help snorting.

“Jesus, six of one, half a dozen of the other.” Mike rolls his eyes. “Anywayyy… I wasn’t with some unknown dudes… but I wasn’t alone either…” he shrugs with a mysterious smile.

“Okay, you’re getting a vasectomy. That’s final. I don’t want you to get sued by teen moms from every single town we stop in.” I shake my head.

“Not that I’m the Casanova of the band, are we going to talk about the favors you’ve done to Seattle’s female population too? Do you begrudge me it or what?”

“I’ve had a long string of girlfriends, so what?”

“What?” our band parrot squeaks in again.

“A long string? There’s a herd of them!” Mike goes on.

“Just stop!” she screams and we both fall silent, surprised by her sudden outburst. “I’m new here. Explain.” she adds in a mellower voice.

“Judith, maybe you should improve your “reading between the lines” skills. My colleague is trying to say that he spent the night with a female acquaintance, I guess we can call her like that with some euphemism. And I recommended some fertility restrictions regarding Mike’s wasted adventures are like the cliché bad examples in sexual education videos.”

“As if you…” my bandmate is about to reply but he gets interrupted by the returning lovely waitress, and honestly, I don’t mind, somehow I don’t want him to reveal my dating history before the girl who never misses any occasion to point out my flaws.

“Did you manage to choose in the meantime?” she inquires.

“I’d like to have… scrambled eggs with ham and a sesame seed bun, fresh orange juice, pancakes with maple syrup, a peanut butter sandwich and chocolate chips with vanilla ice.” Mike reads enthusiastically.

“A sunny-side up with bacon and a cherry pie á la RR.” my neighbor lists.

“A vegetarian cheese plate and I’d like to try that deliciously sounding pie too.” I smile at the waitress.

“It’s even better than you think, Sir.” she winks back at me and as I watch her collecting the menus, I can see Camden’s disgusted face from the corner of my eye.

“Sooo… a Twin Peaks fan, huh?” I nudge her. “From now on, I’m gonna call you Nadine, it suits you in every sense.”

“Nice try, Bob… Anyway, Mike, if this is your hangover appetite, what is your normal state like? I got nausea even of listening to you…”

“I burned a lot of calories last night so…” he grins proudly, making me cackle up.

“Here we are, I want details!” I imitate a drum snare with my palms on the table.

“Jesus, guys, are you really going to disc…” Miss Prudery clucks in but luckily, my bandmate ignores her whining.

“It was… wild.” he smirks firmly.

“Wilder than that escort girl in L.A.?” I giggle since this is one of my favorite stories with which I tease Mike from time to time and it’s also a great topic to outrage this first communicant next to me.

“What? Mike? You’ve paid for sex???” Bingo.

“How many times I have to tell that…” Mike pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers with a nervous gasp. “Judy, it wasn’t the way you think… when I was living in L.A. with the Friel brothers, I met a nice waitress at a concert venue… we sort of hooked up, she’d visit me at the record store I’d work at… she was busted all the time so I’d lend her my spare money, I mean what I didn’t spend on booking gigs for us… and Chris Friel tried to warn me gently that every time I’d give her money, we’d sex afterwards… and once we ended up in a strip club after a gig and I found out she was a stripper, she worked there, I mean, she was dropping her clothes right in front of me… and she wasn’t only stripping. So I realized that what I thought to be a friends with benefits situation was actually a prostitute-client relationship, she was just too good-hearted to enlighten me. Stone, are you happy now???”

“Awww, Mike, this is so sad… but it’s also somehow so sweet… I hope you got a discount at least. But what’s with that girl from last night? What’s her name?”

“Someone has suddenly become curious, interesting…” I throw in.

“Errrr… her name was…”

“Jesus, Camden, you know nothing about one-night-stands, don’t you?” I ask to buy Mike some time but to be honest, I don’t know what to think seeing the industrial amount of condoms I found in her toiletry bag last night. Either is she a wild cat and a really god actress at the same time or this tour is like a project for her to get rid of her virginity. Ten times at least. And Jeff Ament has the honor to assist. Jesus.

“Why, I only asked…”

“He doesn’t know shit about her, let alone her name.”

“You banged…” she yells but realizing everyone looks at us, she suddenly takes the volume back “You had sex with her and you didn’t even ask her name?” she whispers between her teeth.

“Why? Names are overrated. Anyway, she introduced herself, I just… can’t remember her name anymore. And she didn’t even care about my name either.”

“Judith, I understand this is new to you, you probably insist on swapping business cards before petting and ask the guy even to show his ID before the penetration but in most cases, these things are going in a simpler way…” I use the occasion to torture her a bit and she starts reddening so much that I almost feel sorry for her. Almost.

“Hey Stoney, don’t mock her! Jude, there’s nothing wrong with being cautious. I mean, the social security number can even be useful in case your partner suffers a sex injury.” he tries to help her out clumsily and glances at me for reassurance.

“Yeah, let alone the blood type in case he needs a transfusion after the experience.” I scoff.

“Could we go back to Mike’s experience?” she squints towards me with popped eyes making a nervous gesture. “I hope you had protection…”

“Jesus, of course, she was prepared…”

“She??? Mike, how can you be so irresponsible, it’s always the guy’s task, I would never ever… go out with a guy who expects me to provide him with condoms, Jesus…”

Ha. The little liar…

“Are we seriously analyzing these details? I mean, how was the chick?” I exclaim, earning one more toss arriving from my right side.

“She was… nice. I mean, she had that crazy vibe… It was weird, everything was okay until we left to her place, we drank, we played pool, she started flirting, I reciprocated it and so on… At one point, she threw herself on me, by the time I realized what’s happening, she was basically already licking my tonsils… not that I minded. So she dragged me to her place.”

“That doesn’t sound that bad…” I grin.

“Something tells me there was a “but” in the story…” the queen of condoms reacts ignoring my remark.

“Well yeah… she disappeared in the kitchen to bring more booze, so I turned on the TV, I thought some decent erotic channel wouldn’t hurt in the process but I stopped at a documentary, it was filmed in Kenya, I think, with beautiful shots and interesting narrations… she came back at the part on mating lions, she asked me if liked it, I found her question odd but I answered “of course” and she got completely hysterical.”

“How… how do you mean?” she asks fidgeting anxiously with her coffee mug.

“She… she freaked out saying she couldn’t believe I’m into that too. It so strange, out of context, I guess it was probably some dark secret with his ex, so I didn’t ask.”

What a coincidence!

“Interesting, the same…” I reply but a nervous little hand beats me in the thigh under the table. What the hell is she doing?

“Go… go on Mike, and what happened after that?” she inquires with a forced smile.

“I managed to calm her down, switched to Playboy channel, and you know… we begin to get into the thing on the couch… but my stomach started rumbling, I was starving since I hadn’t eaten the whole day. So I asked her if I could grab some food before we… you know… and she almost begin to cry, explaining she never mixes food into sex, it was so incoherent, I couldn’t even understand what’s happening…” he recalls causing me a lightbulb moment.

“Jesus Mike, I know why she acted like that…” I exclaim chuckling since it I know this is more than a simple coincidence, his story has too much in common with my conversation with Claudia. Actually, now that it’s not about me, it actually sounds funny. Hilariously funny, I can’t stop shaking of repressed laughter… But those restless fingers pinch me in the thigh this time and when I turn right to challenge her, all I can see are two, huge, warm, brown eyes, begging me concerned… and suddenly I realize what they are trying to say.

“And why?” Mike asks back. Okay, I have to find out something, and I have to do it fast, think…

“Because… because… she chickened out!”

“Yes, that must have been the reason.” she agrees as quickly as possible. Okay, crisis averted.

“She didn’t.” Mike smirks. “She finally allowed me to grab some snacks and then… mature content.” he illustrates with fitting hand moves the events. “Okay, she turned out to be into rodeo roleplay, which was new to me but… after all, it was fun.” he shrugs not too convincingly.

“Was she wearing boots with spurs?”

“Damn, Camden, you always grasp the most important details…”

“She wasn’t… but she had a hat made bondage stuff to me but it was fine.”

Our meals arrive in the meantime but somehow the consumption of my vegan cheese plate seems to be incompatible with the picture of the naked Mike tied to a bed and ridden by Claudia only wearing a cowboy hat.

“A lot of people are into it but of course, there are different levels.” our troublemaker plays the expert with her mouth full.

“It was the enjoyable level bondage. Anyway, she had one more outburst, when we were finished.” he tells stuffing a considerable pile of scrambled egg into his mouth. “After the action, she went out to the bathroom but she threatened to slit my throat if I’d follow her. Like, why would I do that?”

I snort but I manage to fake a cough fast enough not to be noticed by Mike and abused by the travel-size Terminator.

“I don’t know, shower sex?” she shrugs casually munching too. Like she knows.

“Yeah, but that’s a good thing, isn’t it? Whatever. Anyway, guys, how was your night?”

“Terrible.”

“Awful.” we answer at once.

“Why, was it because of the motel or…?”

“I had nightmares… I mean, during that one single hour I slept. I didn’t really dare fall asleep because of the cockroaches… and I kept dreaming about them.” she begins to play with the food pushing it around on the plate.

“Stone, you had nightmares too?”

“Oh, no… although I had every reason to do so. I don’t know, the bed was uncomfortable.”

There’s an awkward silence. Mike devotes all his attention to his food and honestly, probably neither of us minds that he stops asking about last night. Anyway, as for the Claudia thing, she was right. He was proud of his conquest, facing him with the fact he was only a backup target would have totally ruined his confidence. I have to warn Scully too, he’s such a gossip. And Ed would certainly disapprove it but come on, Mike just wants to enjoy being the member of a rock band. He doesn’t fuck girls in every bush we pass by, I don’t think he should be executed for it. Jeff isn’t better either, drooling over you colleague, how immature and irresponsible…

“Hi Jeff!”

Speak of the devil. Anyway, why is she so suddenly so enthusiastic of seeing him?

“Hi guys. Wow, that looks good.” our bassist leans over to check my plate while Mike pulls his leg back to leave him space. Of course he couldn’t do that a few minutes earlier, so typical.

“If you ask me, it tastes better without Mike’s bizarre sex adventures but it’s a matter of taste.”

“Bizarre sex adventures? Something tells me I have to catch up.” he laughs. “How are you, Judy? You disappeared tomorrow so early.”

“Thanks, I’m fine, I was just…tired. Look, Jeff, I was thinking… if you wanna hang out today before the show? I mean, you said you’d show me a few chords and…”

I can’t believe my ears. What made her change her mind? If Dave’s jealousy trick worked out, I have to re-evaluate my knowledge about dating.

“Sure.” Jeff’s face lights up. “Anytime.”

“Aaaanytime, Juuudy…” I mock. ”Just don’t forget to put some money in his G-string.” I add mumbling.

“Jesus, Stone, you’re gross!” Mike drops his fork annoyed.

“I’m the gross? Remember, Mike…” I’m ready to remind him of his various drunk performances but as the debate is about to get heated, Eric shows up in the diner followed by Ed and Beth.

“Guys, we have a problem…”

#pearl jam fanfiction #pearljam #PearlJamfanfic #eddie vedder #stone gossard #MikeMcCready #jeff ament #dave abbruzzese

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kittyspring-creates · 3 years

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since I couldn’t get it out of my head here’s season 8-11 as Scullys fever dream. posted to my ao3 as well, will do a second chapter

She ran, she ran and she ran. Playing catch up with the events unfolding in her path. A trip to origin, investigating abductions. Just like her first ever case with her long standing partner. Coming full circle with the investigations leading them both to the start. To where she first grew to trust and understand the man on the x files paranoia. They ran through the familiar forest in search of aliens or bodies left behind. Only for her to get sick and her partner taken away aboard the very saucer he always sought.

She cried as she was left in the hospital with the news, knowing it was going to be the outcome. What she didn't anticipate was her sickness being brought upon by a growing life form inside her. A miracle she could not share. A joy she was promised would never be hers. Despite the surprise she was unable to be at peace. With her partner lost to the sky she ran. Chasing him with strangers and her superior. Till he was found, dead and lost in the dirt. Her heart dropping and her lungs burning with her despair. She blinked as the tears ran down her cheeks. Only to open them to a funeral where she held a fist full of dirt. She knew who was there, in the ground. Being sent away to the maggots.

As she turned to run from her superior who offered his comfort she turned into a sterile hall way. Being told by these strangers that her partner was alive and in stasis. The drama that fallowed consumed her and her growing stomach. Where she stood barely showing she now had a visible bump. The man she chased pressing his hand to her softly. Smiling at how the fetus reacted to his warmth. She couldn't help her own grin at seeing him. Alive and well. Despite what they had been through, together again with her growing baby.

She still ran, far away with a woman. Where she ended up in a ghost town, surrounded by anomalies she could only describe as super solders. Giving birth to an alien hybrid, unable to stop any of them if they tried anything. But once the pain was over, the deed done and the peachy skinned baby washed. They all left. Leaving behind a very tired woman and her newly arrived partner. The man stayed by her side, caring for them both from the ghost town to the familiar apartment. Professing to her as she settled that the real truth they needed to admit was a desire for one another. Wordlessly she agreed, taking his breath away as they kissed. She chuckled with such emotion, portraying her overwhelming bliss. Staring at his all consuming twinkle in his eye as he held their baby.

The feeling ripped away as she power walked through her apartment. Strangers coming and going as her mother visited often. Her partner no longer around. Her reasoning being it was to dangerous for both him and her son to be in the same place. So she sent him away. Wishing everyday she hadn't. The sorrow making her more aggressive then she could ever remember being. Till she had nearly killed a man to protect what was hers. Strangers stopping her from going to far every time. Except when she let the wrong person near her baby and had to give him up. Her arms no longer safe for him if he was no longer able to protect himself. If he was no longer alien. Her head spun as she was left alone. Opening her teary eyes to a visitation room where the only person who could make it all better stood. Speaking with false clarity.

Once alone he finally held her, kissed her the way she needed, he needed. Then told their superior everything. A trial was held for his execution. She couldn't bare playing catch up as more strangers spoke for him. Guilty was their verdict as she knew it would be from the start. And she ran, she ran with him to Mexico. Meeting their long standing enemy and watching the area burn up with acting conspiracy.

Her lungs burned and her face ached. But she pressed on. Hiding this man she loved and needed like air under her name and purchases. Buying a house somewhere no one would look for her and creating a room just for him. He sat inside for years, driven by the news and conspiracy's he kept seeing. Connecting in his den as she struggled to stay with their beloved bureau. Eventually leaving to peruse medicine. Finally a sense of peace she rejoiced. Feeling whole despite the ache she felt for her lost son. Till a woman called her and tore her world apart.

The institution forgiving her house mate for the fake crimes he was charged with and asking for his help on a case. An old darkness arose in their lives and she felt her lungs burn as she ran in two directions. One away from the FBI life and the other in the direction of Fox Mulder. Her faith and relationship challenged with his stubbornness and acceptance of a darkness she had long been without. She drove away from their shared home, still feeling his goodbye kiss on her lips. Their fight playing out in her head as her decision settled in. She sobbed at the wheel, leaving him behind with the fallowing horrors. Never to return. Never to feel his arms around her or his husky voice teasing her in the middle of the night. Her world felt crushing as she tried to breath. Finding it hard as she drove down the path.

Her car stopping at the front of the bureau. She stepped out in her dark heels. Her now long, fading hair swaying in precision curls. Her plump face showing only length with years of fluctuating weight. She turned her head, unable to stop the smile that plucked at her wrinkled face. Each line showing a moment of suppressed joy behind it. Walking towards her was the most beautiful thing she thought. A plumper scruffy man she knew as her long standing partner. Both in work and in life. After years they returned to their old life. Working the x files. She returned to her usual autopsies and he strutted in the room. Blabbing his wild theories she loved to debunk till their was a sliver of science for her to latch onto and elaborate on. She adored it, but her heart ached. Wanting to let her self love him again. Now that they shared the darkness she so feared their was one thing stopping her. Her own cowards, guilt at what she had done to them. Giving up their son and running away from him.

Their files became obscure to her, the bodies not looking right. The facts not adding up like they use to. Lizard people, Langly ai, Physic multiple personalities, technology hunting them till they rated and tipped them for their job, witches. She was at a loss of the facts. Her reports looking like symbols rather then words. Her sights becoming more mangled as she envision the future. Her head on fire as improbable things played out in her mind. All leading to her lost son and a man long thought dead. The conspiracies' becoming global as her desperation for her two boys grew. Her need for her son, the importance of him in the scenario. Saving her long standing partner from the coming sickness, from his proclaimed father. She ran, hurt and bleeding she ran after them. Wanting to save them both, ignoring what new strangers were telling her. Doctors, FBI officials, Third party intelligence. She ran, her heart beat to loud to absorbed what her superiors tried to tell her about her son. Denying that he could ever be the by product of her and her long standing enemy.

She chased after her beloved, slowly realizing what was actually done. Her dna only matched because of her own anomaly. That despite the birth the boy was not hers. She was only an incubator, carrying something created in a lab. That she now carried an actual miracle, a by product of her and the man she could never live without. As she told him all this he held her. Baffled as she was by the obscurity of it all. He pressed his arms to her back and she felt her self crash against him like waves. Her lungs burning from all her running as her cheeks stung. She wanted to close her eyes and rest. So tired from the journey. But if she did where would she be.

The feeling of his arms slowly faded and she wondered if he was letting her go. "Scully" she heard. But it wasn't from his aged voice. His tired tone from the travel they endured. She took in a deep breath, finding she needed it. Her lungs filled and the burning subsided. She blinked, letting her eyes stay closed longer then needed. Her skin stung and fresh droplets formed from the pain.

She felt a slight tap on her cheek and opened her eyes. She looked out of a car dashboard. Noting a dark street and a white house with one light on in the top window. Confusion filled her as she thought where the dock was that she stood upon moments ago. She batted her lashes, taking in the sight before her. She took in a deep breath as she involuntary stretched her arms down. She straightened her back and turned her head. Feeling the faintest crack in her neck. Her short strawberry blond hair swayed with the motion, covering her ears as it framed her face. Her vision landed on the man in the drivers seat. A tall brunette watched her, smirking in a dorky way rather then malicious. The twinkle in his darkened eyes prominent in the dim light. She stared back at him, confused by his youthful features. No longer displaying years of experience and a long standing tiredness. But boyish excitement and an ambition unmatched. "Hey sleeping beauty, have a nice nap" he teased. Keeping his voice low.

The woman sat back in her position half supported by the back of her seat and the door. "Mulder" she questioned. Hearing her own saucy voice speaking. Carrying only confusion and grogginess. She looked around at the street, trying to remember what they were doing. Slowly it came back to her as the dream faded from her conscious. She blinked at the white house they were hidden from. Remembering that they were staking the place out like their superior asked them to. Skinner. He had a few agents on the case but felt it played to their expertise. She groaned as she stretched again. "Oh I had the weirdest dream" she spoke. A yawn forcing her to cover her mouth till it was gone. "Really, care to elaborate" the man asked her. Unannoyed by her passing out and being left with his own company for who knows how long.

She swallowed as her jaw closed, feeling how tight all her muscles had been from her tense slumber. The woman blinked at the scenery outside. Her tongue feeling heavy in her mouth with her reluctance to speak. The more she was awake the less she could recall of the scenario she had conjured. But one thing stuck out. The back and forth she experienced with her partner. Having what she presumed was his baby and loving him for years. Kissing him and exploring him in every way. She swallowed as her heart beat picked up. Awakening her further with adrenalin and embarrassment. She couldn't look at him as the false memories played in her head. The handsome man holding the one thing she's wanted since before she joined the FBI. Telling her his truth was loving her and capturing his plump lips with hers. Even now she could almost feel the way he quivered under her touch, so desperate for her as she was for him in that moment. "Scully" he called out to her. Waiting for her answer as he tapped the stirring wheel. She took a deep breath, her lungs aching like she had truly been running. She raised her brow a little, almost at a loss for words to explain the fantasy. "Uh I dreamt a lot of things. Aliens, abductions, conspiracy's, super solders, lizards uh" she tried to recall. Her mind chasing after each experience. Resulting in a growing pain in the front of her brain. She could tell the man was trying not to laugh beside her. A blur of brown moving in her peripheral vision. Indicating he had moved his hand over his mouth to stop himself from out wordily laughing. She closed her eyes for a moment as he chuckled. She'd be amused to if her head wasn't swimming.

As she looked out into the darkness, seeing only a small light from the perpetrators house. She was consumed by the false moments she had with her imaginary baby. The pain she felt when giving him up filled her present. Despite him not being real or hers. She still felt the ache to hold him in her arms. The need so strong it convinced her muscles to mimic the feeling of a baby in her arms. She swallowed hard and let out a shaky breath. Her companions smile falling instantly as he observed her changed demeanor. From sleepy to haunted as she stared out the dashboard without seeing the house they hid from. "A baby...I-I was pregnant a-and I had a baby" she clasped her teeth shut. Waiting till her voice steadied before she thought about speaking again. Instantly the mans hand reached for hers. Sliding slowly to where it laid flat on her clothed leg. He covered her knuckles with his palm. She took in a shaky breath at the feeling of his warmth. Cursing herself for being so vulnerable. For being so upset about something she never had.

She breathed in deeply then sat up. She turned to face the dashboard instead of just looking at it, causing his hand to slide away from hers. He sat back, taking it as a sign she didn't want to be comforted. And she didn't, not for something that wasn't real. Something that could never happen. A pain she would never really know outside of this bizarre dream. As she tried to reason with her self a nagging feeling spread from her now formed headache. The overwhelming realness of her experiences prompting her to decide something ridiculous. "I need a blood test" she blurted before thinking. An anxiousness filling her. Mirrored by her partners worry. He sat up straight, causing her to look at the light in the house rather then the bushes at the base. "What for" he wondered, his amusement long gone. She couldn't answer. Couldn't explain how much the dream had freaked her out. Pushing her to look inside herself for any signs it was real. Needing to search for alien DNA and evidence of a pregnancy as a result of the logic displayed in her subconscious. How absurd it was, even more so if she had to say it.

Luckily if not unlucky she noticed shadows roaming in the light. Fast moving silhouettes then the sudden absents of light. She moved to grab her gun in her holster. "There was movement, a woman" she told as she reached for the door handle. He unlocked the car and fallowed her into action. Carrying out their job as they have done time and time again. Hurrying to protect who ever was inside from the owner.

#txf #the x files #dana scully #fox mulder #becuase fuck you chris carter #msr #txf 8 #txf 7 #spoils i guess #might be ooc never wrote her before

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rationalcashew · 4 years

Text

Five Seconds

Mulder accidentally tases Scully (based on a prompt).

It was supposed to be a joke. Really, it was. And, it wasn’t like he’d done it on purpose.

Honest.

Mulder noticed the taser sitting on his desk and picked it up, studying it. Never once did he question where it came from. Mistake number one.

He’d been tased before. Back at the Academy. He’d pissed himself. Like almost everyone did.

Luckily, it wasn’t the same day they maced him.

That was when she walked in the office, accompanied by and talking to one of the instructors from the Academy.

“Agent Walker, this is my partner, Agent Fox Mulder,” Scully introduced, simultaneously noticing the taser in his hand. She smirked and arched an eyebrow. “What, were you gonna tase me as soon as I walked in the door?” She challenged playfully.

He liked playful Scully. That was why he’d playfully lifted the taser, pretending like he was going to do just that. What Mulder didn’t consider was the sensitive trigger.

He’d barely heard Agent Walker screaming at him over the clack, clack, clack of the non-lethal weapon.

Everything else that followed happened in a blur. Scully dropped to the ground, two wires shooting out from her body as it pumped a fifty thousand volt electrical charge at seven watts per charge into her for a split second. Agent Walker dropped beside her while Mulder stood, stunned.

She was going to murder him. And, she’d be right to do it, too.

He should’ve known better. He was a trained law enforcement officer. There were rules; the first things they teach you when operating a service weapon of any kind: never put your finger on the trigger unless you intend to squeeze it and don’t point your weapon at someone unless you intend to use it and, even then, as a last resort.

Partner implied.

He broke two rules that day. Three, if one were to count definitely don’t shoot your partner.

Although, he had to figure, in a momentary and silent self-defense, she did put a bullet through him. He had the scar to prove it.

Five seconds.

It took five seconds for the shock waves to wear off and for Scully to come to.

Five seconds that felt like an eternity.

She was gonna be pissed. And, she had every right to be.

He remembered what being tased felt like. It felt like every atom in your body was tearing itself apart. It hurt beyond anything that could ever hurt a person.

Mulder had hurt Scully. Physically.

He felt like he was going to be sick.

“You…fucking…bastard,” she panted when she came to enough to sit up, shooting daggers at him with her eyes.

Mulder practically shoved Agent Walker out of the, knocking the other man on his ass in the process.

“Scully, I am so—.”

“Fuck you,” she spat, shoving him away as he reached for her.

“It was an accident,” he sputtered. “I-I… Jesus, Scully. I am so sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—.”

“First rule when they gave us the rubber weapons during tactical. First rule, Mulder,” she snarled. “Keep your finger off the trigger.”

She left after that, escorted out of the office by Agent Walker who promised Mulder that Skinner was going to hear about the incident. Mulder watched as the man guided her away, his hand resting gently just above her elbow.

She didn’t talk to him for several days.

In fact, he’d only seen her one time and, when she wasn’t expertly diverting her gaze, she was glaring a death glare his way.

What Scully didn’t know was how Mulder had commiserated each second of the days she avoided him; she didn’t know how he vomited every time he thought about it.

Oh, Skinner ripped into him, too.

Mulder suspected the only reason he wasn’t fired or, at the very least, on administrative suspension without pay was because Scully had a hand in it.

He considered himself a lucky man that she didn’t walk away from him entirely.

He certainly wouldn’t have blamed her.

Finally, one day, he heard the familiar clacking of her heels just outside the office. His heart jumped in excitement and his stomach lurched in guilt. It was an odd sensation, really.

He jumped up from his chair when she entered the office, saying nothing as she hung her coat on the coat rack while he shoved his hands so deep in his pockets that he was surprised he didn’t shove a hole right through him.

Scully eyed him and Mulder swallowed hard.

“What?” She asked. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but not sound came. “Jesus, Mulder. I’m not going to tase you.”

The air left his lungs in a heavy exhale; he hadn’t noticed that he was holding his breath.

He let out a relieved chuckle and she grinned.

“I’m really sorry about that,” he said, truly repentant and contrite. “I didn’t mean to tase you.”

“I know. I could tell by the several flower deliveries to my apartment, the thousands of messages on my answering machine, the hand written notes taped to my apartment door, the e-mails,” she listed, ticking them off on her fingers as she went down the list. “Shall I go on?”

“You got the message. Duly noted.”

There was an awkward moment of silence before Mulder quietly and seriously said, “Thanks for not getting another partner.” He meant it to sound confident, but it sounded meek. “I don’t know if I’d have ever forgiven myself—not that I will any time soon, anyway.”

Scully smirked, “I did shoot you in the shoulder. With my service weapon.”

He smiled a relieved smile and nodded. “At least, I didn’t do that. And, you did patch me up pretty nicely.” He patted his shoulder for emphasis.

“I will say this, though,” she continued, a grave tone in her voice that put the fear of God in him and a tone he never wanted to be on the receiving end of ever again. “If you ever do that again, you won’t walk away from it.”

His jaw dropped to the floor with a proverbial thud. She was dead serious. He could see it in her eyes: she’d actually kill him.

Mulder nodded, terrified and slightly turned on. Oddly enough.

“Good,” she declared and walked past him, to the desk, and picked up the file on it. “Our next case?”

He couldn’t respond. She went zero to sixty and back to zero in a minute and he was feeling the proverbial whiplash.

God help him, he wanted to take her on the desk right then. Although, the knew he was the only one with that particular notion at the moment.

“Mulder,” she demanded. He needed to get back on her good side.

“You can tase me if you want,” he blurted. Her brow furrowed in confusion. “I mean, if it’d make you feel better.”

She nodded. “Rain check.”

He knew that tone. She wasn’t joking.

Mulder was going to be on his best behavior for awhile.

#xfiles #xfiles fanfic #x files #fanfiction #fanfic #mulder and scully #fox mulder #dana scully #mishaps #humor

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scullyfemme · 4 years

Note

Fluff prompt: How about...Mulder sitting on Scully’s lap?

This might not be what you were intending but I had fun with this prompt adnsldks

Request some winter/holiday fluff!

tagging @today-in-fic

---

Eggnog

Whatever the Gunmen put in their eggnog, it was strong. It was sharp to the taste, and Scully had a feeling it was more like rum with essence of eggnog. It was tough to drink even for her.

That didn’t seem to stop I-don’t-drink-much Mulder, though. Especially once Langly challenged everyone to a drinking contest. The holiday gathering — already leaning too much on the masculine side — felt significantly more like a frat party after that. Scully didn't want to be a wet blanket, didn't want to let herself become the matronly chaperone to four grown men, so she relaxed. And despite her better judgment, she joined in the contest. The men were halfway done, so she didn't drink as much as them, but she was met with great applause as she downed her third glass of nog.

The Gunmen started blasting music she didn't recognize and Byers and Langly both started dancing in jarred, drunk movements. She accepted a dance from Frohike -- who was surprisingly light on his feet -- and found herself giggling as he twirled her, and what surprised her more was that she didn’t mind. That is, until she twirled right into Mulder. After an awkward beat, she giggled again despite herself and he smiled down at her as he took her waist, dancing far too slow for such a fast song. It was nice, though, so Scully didn’t protest.

Later on, she sat languidly on one end of the couch while Byers and Langly played a one-off match of some fighting video game she didn't know. She had no idea what Mulder and Frohike were up to and frankly, she didn't care as her head fell back against the couch. The images on the screen and the shouts from the two men next to her started to fade into the background, lulling her to sleep.

And then a heavy weight landed in her lap.

She let out an ungraceful oof at the impact and glared up at Mulder, who just looked down at her quizzically. He had fallen sideways onto her, his long legs dangling over the arm of the couch.

“Oh. Sorry, Scully. Didn't see ya there.” He didn’t try to move, though, instead continuing to look down at her blankly as she started repeatedly pushing him. He didn’t budge.

“Jeez, Mulder.” Byers, who was situated between Scully and Langly, leaned around Mulder’s intruding form to see the TV. “Warn a guy next time.”

“Mul- der- you're- too- heavy-” Scully grunted as she tried to push him off of her.

Frustrated, Byers got up from the couch and sat on the floor closer to the TV, caring more about the video game than the potentially-crushed woman next to him.

“Mul- er-” She finally, successfully, managed to push him off her lap. Just a bit. Enough so that his butt was on the couch instead of her thigh, rendering most of his body weight on the seat next to her. His legs, longer than should be legal, still draped over her while his feet dangled off the couch.

With a sleepy sigh, he laced his arms around her and tucked his head into the crook between her shoulder and neck, settling in quicker and easier than he probably should.

“Mm, you're soft,” he murmured, snuggling closer to her.

“Mulder-” Her face burned a bright red as she looked around self-consciously for witnesses. Byers and Langly paid no attention to them, all their focus on the game. Frohike was nowhere to be found. “Mulder, you can't fall asleep on me.”

He grunted. “Why not?”

“Because-” she stopped, realizing she didn't have a valid reason. Not one that would convince a drunk person, at least. “Because I don't want you to.”

“Mm.” He adjusted his head on her shoulder to get more comfortable, and she tried to ignore the fact that she didn’t actually mind this. “I thought you liked me,” he mumbled.

Her ears burned. He opened his eyes and looked up at her softly, and she realized just how close he was. It would be so easy to lean down, to press her lips against his for even a fleeting moment. If she’d had just a little bit more alcohol in her, she might have thrown caution to the wind. But she was just sober enough to remember the potential consequences, the implications of kissing him like this.

“I wanna kiss you,” he whispered, clearly holding onto fewer of his inhibitions than she was. It was so quiet that she barely heard it, much less Byers or Langly.

She swallowed, thinking again of how easy it would be. How nice. The fact that they were both thinking the same thing should have come as a comfort, but it only made her more nervous. She could write it off, claim to be more drunk than she was. But she couldn't let herself. She wished she'd joined in that drinking contest earlier than she had. Maybe then this would be easier.

Instead, she leaned down to his ear and whispered a quiet “me too,” relying on the odds that he wouldn't remember this in the morning as he fell asleep on her shoulder.

#kai.fic #x files #xf fanfic #msr fic #prompts #Anonymous

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serahsanguine · 4 years

Text

Vacation Series Pt. 2. Halloween Surprises Ch, 4

This is the second book in a two-part series

Book one. - pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6

Book Two. - pt. 1, pt, 2, pt. 3,

All chapters can be found Here on Ao3

This Chapter Rating; NC-17 NSFW

Tagging; @skullsmuldon @baronessblixen @today-in-fic

*********************************

Chapter 4; Day Four - Vanity Fair

Mulder woke up and felt the cold sweat of Scully’s skin as he rolled her over slightly and nuzzled his nose into her strawberry smelling hair. Whispering reassurances over and over again tell her he loved her, that they were safe. She opened her eyes adjusting to the darkness she could tell she had been crying and she clung to Mulder’s body.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, care to tell me about it?”

“I will but not now, I'm going to grab a glass of water.”

“Ok,” he said simply not wanting to push the matter and make it worse.

“I’ll be quick I promise, the fires nearly out and the room is quite chilly” she leaned back over to him her finger gracefully touching his cheek “I’m ok I promise”

He smiled weakly and watched her wander to the bathroom. She switched the light on and grabbed the glass she kept by the sink and ran the water cold before filling it and taking a sip.

It didn’t agree with her and everything she had eaten the day before all came up and into the toilet bowl. Mulder was up in a flash and by her side for support. His hand grabbing her hair to keep it out of her face and his other hand rubbing her back. He helped soothe her as best he good but he felt useless.

5 minutes passed and everything that was coming up was out and now all that was left was her dry heaving into the bowl. She sat on the cool tile floor and Mulder had grabbed a washcloth and ran it under cool water to apply to her head and neck.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asked concerned.

“No, but I think that’s it for now,” she replied solemnly.

“What happened?"

“The bowling alleys hotdog disagreed with me,” she said trying to calm her breathing down and trying no to throw up her stomach acid.

“You did say you didn’t think it tasted right,” he said in confirmation.

She nodded and rung the washcloth out and ran it under the tap before replacing it to her skin. “That'll teach me to listen to your advice and eat junk food.”

“This is not my fault,” he said defensively and looked away at the floor.

She smiled and locked her fingers with his, he looked up into her face and smiled back and realized she was teasing him.

“Nice to see you're making jokes, are you ready to go back to bed?”

“Yes, I think so.”

Scully stood up and went to walk out of the bedroom but Mulder scooped her up under the legs and carried her to bed.

“I can walk you know,” she said laughing.

“I know but I felt chivalrous,” he replied smiling back down at her.

He wrapped the blanket around her skin and she was asleep instantly, it was a little while before he fell back to sleep making sure she had everything from a sick bucket a fresh cup of water. He was worried for her and hoped she was up for tomorrow as he knew she was really looking forward to the vanity fair.

Both Mulder and Scully had been awake for several hours now dealing with some of the preparations for tomorrow's Halloween party.

The Lone Gunman had gone way overboard on the pumpkins, buying 25 of them to be exact, all of them needed to be scooped and cleaned with the inside of the pumpkin put in a bowl to make pies for tomorrow. Mulder and Scully were sat by the kitchen island, Scully’s hair was tied back in a low ponytail keeping the pumpkin from attaching itself to her hair. She was wearing a low cut vest top with a cardigan buttoned up, her jeans covered buy an apron, she was cleaning out her second pumpkin. Mulder was wearing black joggers and a grey tank top also cleaning out his second pumpkin. All of them agreed to do 5 pumpkins each and once cleaned they would get to do a different design on each one.

Mulder watched as Scully was finishing up, he just stared and watched for awhile he knew she was still feeling quite ill from yesterday but was putting on a brave face as they sat trying not to let on. But when you look deeper she was aglow her skin porcelain and freckled but her cheeks were red from the fire and warmth of the house. Loose curled hair framed her beautiful face her eyes downcast at the task at hand. Her nose is small and quaint, her lips pink luscious and kissable but they were covered by the tip of her tongue just darting out from between her lips. He smiled because she didn’t know she did this, and she only did it when she was concentrating he never brought it up in case it made her self conscious and she would stop.

She looked up and caught him staring at her and instantly she blushed it didn’t matter whether they were in a relationship or not whenever he looked at her like that it sent her into little schoolgirl crush mode.

They got through the rest of the pumpkins creating creepy ghosts, ghoulies, monsters and cats, even carving an X into the largest one they had between them.

Mulder placed a tea light in his last pumpkin and held it up next to him, he had carved a face with a large smile into it.

“Scully, You light me up,” he held up the lit pumpkin and then looked at her with a cheeky smile on his face.

She looked at him and smiled and then proceeded to laugh at his awful pun.

“How long have you been holding that one in?”

“Since we started. ”

“You’re incorrigible” she carried on laughing. She managed to calm herself down some minutes later and watched him as he scooped some of the ‘guts’ of the pumpkin into his hand.

“Don’t you dare Mulder.”

She watched as if in slow motion he pulled his hand back and threw the pumpkin insides at her. His evil smirk said everything she needed to know as she picked up some of her insides and threw it back at him.

“Do you really want this to turn this into a food fight, Scully?

“You started it, Mister.”

They threw pumpkin back and forth until the whole kitchen was covered in orange blobs and seeds he had definitely achieved his goal of helping to cheer her up and not think about how awful she felt.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Anytime, but we need to get this place cleaned up before the boys get home.”

She looked around at the room and sighed their little bit of fun had caused so much chaos.

“Ok, I will get the mop and you get the broom.”

Mulder followed Scully to the cleaning closet, she grabbed the mop and he grabbed a Halloween broom.

He looked at Scully, witches broom in hand “Stick with me.”

She rolled her eyes and he watched her laugh as she walked back into the kitchen. He put the decorative item down and grabbed the real thing and proceeded to help her clean up the mess they had created.

That Following Night.

Scully was still under the weather and feeling sick but was miles better then she was feeling the night before. She was just putting the finishing touches on her outfit. She wore a red dress that came up just above her knees, black tights and red pumps. Her hair was down and curly around her face, her face with just a small touch of makeup. Her gold cross sitting firmly in the middle of her neck.

She walked out of her bedroom and down the stairs finding Mulder staring at her from his seat in the living room. His face in awe of her beauty.

“Mulder close your jaw, you’re catching flies.”

“I… ugh… Wow”

She blushed profusely. But quickly turned it around back on him. She raked her eyes down on his form, his Jean's were dark and acid washed and they curved his ass perfectly, she remembered the first time he wore them, his ass looked smackable. At least this time she could actually touch him. His attire above the waste consisted of a grey t-shirt paired with a black leather jacket.

“You don’t look so bad yourself Mulder,” now it was Mulder's turn to blush. Scully slipped on her black trench coat and hooked her arm inside Mulders and they walked into town towards the vanity fair.

10 minutes later they arrived, it was beautifully decorated, there were streamers full of ghosts and cobwebs everywhere complete with freaky looking spiders. Chinese lanterns with amazingly drawn mythical creatures hung from above and they had pumpkins of every variety placed all over. What really surprised them both is they even had characters from Mulder’s new favourite movie ‘A Nightmare Before Christmas’ with people dressed up as Oogie Boogie and Jack Skeleton, even children adorned costumes as Lock, Shock and Barrel.

“Mulder, can we go over there first?”

Mulder followed Scully gaze as she pointed towards the shooting stall. He smiled.

“Only if you think you can beat me, Scully.”

“Is that a challenge Mulder?” she said emphasized his name, he simply nodded in return “You’re on” and off they walked towards the shooting stand.

The stands colours were bright orange and yellow, exactly what you would normally find at a funfair. But instead of shooting a family of plastic ducks you were shooting a family of pumpkins.

“You being a hot shot can go first.”

“Thank you,” he was feeling cocky and she could tell she as she watched him line up with the plastic cork gun in hand he shot them hitting ten out of 13 targets.

“Not bad Mulder.”

“Your turn Scully but that is hard to beat.”

“We shall see,” she thought she walked to the stand picking up the loaded cork gun taking the right stance she aimed the gun and fired hitting every pumpkin and not missing one.

“Wow Miss, that was brilliant” Scully beamed a full toothy grin at the stall, “Which large plush would you like?”

“That one please” she pointed at the rather large grey alien hanging from the ceiling.

“Here you go, Miss.”

“Thank you,” she took the large plush toy from the elderly man, said her goodbyes and they left to find another attraction.

They found the candy floss stall and Mulder ordered them both a cone each.

“I have a sugar crush on you,” he said sweetly.

“Oh brother,” as she rolled her eyes and in search for a small bench to eat and talk away from the crowds.

“Here you go, Mulder, this is for you,” she said handing him the grey plush toy.

“I.. Don’t know what to say, Scully. You didn’t have to give me this you won it fair and square.”

“I may have, but It's not that I had to give it to you it, I wanted too. Just say thank you, Scully, and give me a kiss. ”

“Thank you, Scully.”

He leaned forward brushing his lips against hers and the fireworks of passion ignited there, he pulled away but not before she pulled him back again, her tongue probing inside his mouth tasting cotton candy and mulled wine.

“Mmm, You taste good Mulder.”

He pulled away his cheeks red and a boyish grin upon his face.

“How about the House of Horrors next?”

“Is that the one with all the mirrors?” he opened his mouth to reply but she carried on talking not letting him say a word. “Because if it is the answer is definitely no. We have been there and done that, never again.”

“Ok, so that’s out the picture, how about the haunted house?

“Really?” she raised her eyebrow in scepticism.

“Yeah, come on Scully it will be fun.”

“Fine why not.”

They soon finished their cotton candy and went to the haunted house. Stepping inside to complete darkness, Mulder went first in protection. Scully laughed making a comment that plastic does not kill anyone. They walked the corridors as plastic mannequins decorated with fake blood jumped out of nowhere. Vampires, jumping spiders also popped up, Scully could not help but laugh as every time something made Mulder jump he screamed like a girl and then pretended to be all macho and act as if nothing happened. Finally, they got to the end and it was straight on the ghost train which was full of mostly the same stuff but with added fog, mist and neon lights. Scully took the opportunity to snuggle into Mulder's side while they went around the track. He was warm and smelled like Paco Rabanne and her Paris perfume, it was a gentle mix but one that certainly suits them both.

Their evening at the funfair came to an end and it was time to go home. They took a small stroll along the beach watching the moon reflect on the calm ocean. They arrived home and noticed the Lone Gunman had kept the fire going in the living room for them so the house wasn't as brisk as the outside. They took off their coats and both wandered upstairs, Scully slipping her pumps off along the way and depositing the rest of her clothes in the bedroom, she slipped into her cotton full-length pyjamas before sliding in between the sheets. She watched as Mulder unclothed and found an old t-shirt to lay in bed with making sure to grab the book before getting comfortable. They would both forgo their nightly routine, they were much too tired.

With Mulder propped up with pillows behind his back and Scully laying on the side of his body with her face and head in his chest. He began to read.

“On the brink of what was once known as ‘The River Hill’ at the east of Main Street in Williamston, there formerly stood an old hotel building. Owned and operated by the Edward Yellowy family in the early and middle 1800’s, the hotel was frequented by captain and sailors. From barges and ships while they were docked at the Roanoke River wharf just below ‘The River Hill.’

He looked down to find she was still awake her eyes were drooping but she was listening intently.

“Incidentally, one of Edward Yellowlys' sons, Edward C. Yellowly, practised law in Greenville and was one of the principles in what was said to be among the last duels fought in North Carolina. The duel took place at the Virginia-North Carolina state line along the Dismal Swamp canal in October 1947, and Yellowly’s opponent, C.F. Harries, another Greenville lawyer, was killed in the encounter.

“Returning to the old hotel, it had a handsome mahogany stairway and a large balcony covering the entire front. The front veranda was elevated so that the carriages could drive under it. It’s said that a misunderstanding developed between a honeymooning couple staying at the hotel and the young bride leapt off the balcony to her death it was the reason that the place developed a reputation for being ‘Haunted’.”

He stopped and listened to her calm breathing and soft snore he carried on reading to make sure she was completely asleep before putting the book down, that and he hated leaving a story not finished.

“The hotel was finally abandoned, but an ancient piano was left in it. Some of the neighbourhood children in the old days would go into the abandoned structure and play the piano. There were also rumours that musical sounds could be heard in the building when no one was around. Some thought the music was played without human hands, and an examination would show that there was undisturbed dust on the keys of the piano. When this writer was a child, all children were afraid to go into this old hotel or even pass by the place when alone. It was widely known among the children as ‘The Haunted Hotel’.”

Mulder leaned over to his side of the bed and placed the book down softly, Scully was still asleep on his chest and he fell asleep along with her.

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