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So cute!
Fictober Day 27: Keeping A Professional Distance
Prompt: "Let me remind you"
For the anon who asked for: Instead of there is only one bed, there are too many beds. Rating: T, wc: 973
Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober24
For Mulder, Chicago proves to be an unlucky place.
Thanks to a system error, their motel reservation has been canceled. But the receptionist quickly reassures him: “Don’t worry, we still have one room left.”
One room – for the two of them. Mulder glances at Scully; their budding relationship has yet to take flight. They’re still in that early phase, tiptoeing around each other. In short: they haven’t had sex yet.
Neither of them wants it to happen on assignment – even if they closed the case. The last time they shared a room, and a bed, was a year ago in Kroner, Kansas.
They had kept to their respective sides and everything had been civil. That had been before their kiss at New Year’s. Before the second and tenth kiss they’ve shared by now. Kissing is all they’ve done. Work always getting in the way of more.
And now said work is making them share a room.
“We don’t usually use this room,” the receptionist explains, pushing the door open wide. It’s easy to see why. “This is where we store our extra beds. Pick whichever one you like. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
“This is…something,” Mulder mumbles once they’re alone. The whole room looks as if someone’s played Tetris using real beds. There’s a narrow path from the door to the bathroom and that’s it. The rest is beds of various sizes.
“Well, at least we won’t have to worry about where to sleep.” Scully tosses her overnight bag onto one of the beds and squeezes past him to get to the bathroom. Mulder just stares at the plethora of sleeping places and can’t help but feel overwhelmed.
What are the odds of them getting stuck in one room with not one, but an abundance of beds? Somewhere someone is laughing, he’s sure of it. He closes his eyes and throws his bag; wherever it lands, he’ll sleep.
It’s just his luck that it lands on the bed farthest away from Scully’s.
*
Nine beds – yes, he counted – and not a single TV in this dreadful motel room. Mulder knows he should sleep. If for no other reason than it knocking him out until they can leave this place.
For a man who slept on his couch for years, a room full of beds resembles a nightmare. And the fact that Scully is in this room, too, but so far away that he can barely hear her breathe, is making him anxious.
He could have switched beds. Hell, he still could, but he wouldn’t want Scully to think he has any ulterior motives.
“Mulder, I can hear you think from here,” she says, surprising him. He was certain she was asleep already. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“Why aren’t you?”
“I asked you first.” He wishes he could see her. How can they be so close and yet so far away at the same time? He wonders what she’d say if he asked her to move closer.
“This room is creepy.”
“It’s not what I expected,” Scully acknowledges.
“How is your bed?” Mulder asks. “Comfy?”
“It’s nice enough.”
“Are you cold at all?”
“No,” she says and he can’t tell if he wants to hear disappointment in her voice or if it’s actually there.
“You’re not cold, you’re comfortable, so why are you awake?” Mulder hears shuffling from across the room. When Scully speaks next, it sounds closer than before.
“I was thinking about Henry Weems,” she says. “About cause and effect.”
“You’re having profound thoughts and here I am, counting the beds in this room, trying to calculate the distance between mine and yours.”
“Why?”
She may be the one with the degree in physics, but he’s certain her voice is even closer. Or maybe he’s imagining things again.
“Let me remind you that there are nine beds in this room,” Mulder says. “And somehow we ended up on opposite ends of the room. I’m sure the FBI will appreciate us keeping our distance.”
“I’m not.” It’s a whisper, but he hears it loud and clear because she’s right next to him. He blinks a few times, just to make sure she’s real and not a trick of his imagination.
“Hi,” he says with a smile.
“Hi.”
“Got lonely?”
“Yes,” she admits shyly. “I hope you don’t mind. I just wanted to be… closer.”
“Why would I mind?” he asks quietly, the darkness surrounding them making it easier to admit it.
“Like you said, there are nine beds. When they told us there was only one room, I thought… well, you can imagine what I thought.”
“So did I,” he says. “And I wasn’t sure what- what to make of it. We haven’t exactly done that yet.”
“We’re adults, Mulder.”
“Then why is it so difficult to talk about it?” He laughs gently.
“I’m glad there’s more than one bed.” He knows she’s right, but her admission feels like a needle prick to his heart – and his ego. “We’re not forced to share a bed,” she goes on and suddenly, she’s no longer in another bed at all. She’s in his. Snuggling against him like a cat. “We’re doing this because we want to.”
“What’s the FBI gonna say?” he murmurs into her hair, his eyes fluttering shut. He presses a warm kiss against her hairline.
“They’ll never know.” She shifts in his arms and starts kissing his jaw, his cheeks, and then, finally, his mouth. Will he ever not be amazed that they do this now? Will he ever get used to her intoxicating taste? He can’t imagine that he will. He can’t get enough of her.
“There were nine beds,” Mulder mumbles into her mouth, “and we kept a professional distance.”
“Of course we did,” Scully replies, deepening the kiss.
Mulder thinks that maybe his luck is about to change after all.
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Ah! So good!!
Girl your “love is dead” anon got me tweaking! I don’t want to disrupt your fictober flow - but I have a prompt request for later. Can you write some petty fight or argument about Jerse or Diana while they’re already together, preferably set after s7? I’m not in the mood for their usual “we’re gonna be mature and discuss it maturely” - I want some petty and petulant heat of the moment fight. Bonus if there’s smut — SINCE MULDER AND SCULLY ARE HOT AND IN LOVE AND THEEEE SHIP BLUEPRINT with so much sexual tension and chemistry even after 30 years, and even if they weren’t soulmates you can’t look at them and honestly think they don’t have hot sex ANONN!!
It should be a nice afternoon. Mulder's over at her apartment. They're watching baseball. She's on maternity leave. She's relaxing. And yet every single thing in her life is irritating. Her body doesn't feel like her own. She didn't sleep well, because her belly is inconveniently big. Every craving she's had lately seems to exacerbate her heartburn, and she has to pee all the time, and even her walks around the neighborhood make her short of breath. She's tired of stretch marks and she's afraid of hemorrhoids, especially since it's harder to turn to wipe at this point.
Mulder seems blissfully unaware of all this and she's glad about that, but irritated too. It was only weeks ago that he was still icing her out like it was her fault he'd been buried. She knows that's the trauma—God knows she felt some of it herself after her abduction—but it's still frustrating as hell.
She prayed so hard for this pregnancy, but being pregnant comes with its own strange burdens, even during the moments that she's not afraid for her life and her child. She prayed for Mulder to be returned to her, but not for this alternately blithe and bitter version of him who's sometimes acting like nothing's wrong and sometimes seems to blame her for all of it. A quarter of the time, he's so solicitous it's as if he thinks pregnancy has broken her. A quarter of the time, he seems like he's about to bolt. The other half of the time they're together, it's like he ignores the whole situation, except for the occasional quip. But she never gets to forget it.
Whatever happened to him seems to have reset their relationship, and that also pisses her off. Seven years of foreplay, and all for what? For him to act like now that she's pregnant, she's the Virgin Mother? Especially now, when her hormones are at extreme high tide and she just wants to be railed within an inch of her life? He just sits there looking like the man who used to eat her out until her whole body ached from coming too many times, and watches baseball like he doesn't remember the way he thrust against her when he was pretending to teach her how to play.
There's a sharp crack from the tv, the sound of a ball hit hard and fast, and Mulder whoops. Scully jumps in her seat. The fact that she's startled makes her seethe.
"What do you think?" he says, turning to her. He's grinning widely. "Is it finally time for me to get NY tattooed on my ass?"
Anger bubbles over inside her. He said the same thing when he saw her tattoo for the first time. "Fuck off," she suggests, almost cordially, and starts to heave herself up from the couch. She can read in bed or something. Drink pathetic herbal tea at the table. Anything but sit here and want what they used to have.
"Hey, whoa." He catches her arm. "What did I say? Do you not want me to get a tattoo?"
"Far be it from me to suggest you do anything with your body," she says frostily, sort of crouching on the edge of the sofa. "Although I can't imagine you extending me the same courtesy."
"What's this about?" he asks, putting the tv on mute.
"You never miss a chance to needle me about my tattoo," she says. It's a completely unfair statement, the kind of deranged nonsense that only couples say to each other, and she didn't even mean to put "needle" and "tattoo" in the same sentence.
His face clouds. "It wasn't about that."
"No, of course it wasn't," she says, looking away from him. He's still holding her arm. "Because you don't care what I do unless I'm fucking someone else, even if you don't want me."
"I don't want you?" He finally sounds a little bit angry. Good. She wants to stoke those fires. Maybe he'll kiss her, maybe he'll storm out: either way, they'll have reached a tipping point. Something seems to click in his brain. "Are you fucking someone else?"
"Would it be your business if I were?" she challenges him.
"I guess not," he says, but he's got that stubborn set to his jaw.
"If you're not going to make it your fucking business, you should leave," she tells him. "It'll save me the effort of boxing up your stuff the next time some leggy brunette from your past shows up."
"Not pulling any punches, huh," he says, breathing fast. She hates the way his chest looks in that t-shirt. She hates the way his jeans strain over his thighs as he shifts.
"You never hold back when you're kicking me when I'm down," she says, looking at him levelly, and it's not fucking fair and she knows it, but none of this is fucking fair. She has everything she thought she wanted and all of it's just not quite right. She's half an inch from bursting into angry tears.
"What the fuck is happening right now?" he asks. "I thought we were watching baseball." As if he doesn't remember the way he talked to her about Ed Jerse. He remembers. He remembers everything.
"Just go," she says, turning her face away. She puts one hand on her belly, as if she could calm the roil of lust and resentment and disappointment.
"Uh uh," he says. "You don't get to kick me out before I leave you. I know that trick." His chest is heaving now.
"You've left me before," she says in a low voice.
"I'm not fucking doing it now," he tells her, anger crackling in his voice. "Diana's dead, if you remember."
"It wouldn't be the first time you've abandoned me to chase a ghost," she says, and it's a low, low blow.
He flinches like she slapped him. She didn't mean Samantha, of course she didn't. But there were other ghosts along the way, and she knows he knows that.
"What do you mean I don't want you?" he asks, the words rasping out of him.
She shakes her head. "You haven't so much as kissed me on the cheek since you got back."
"Scully, I want you all the fucking time," he says, and the intensity in his eyes and his voice hits so deep she feels it in her bones. It's like he's really looking at her for the first time since the hospital. Her lips part. She watches his eyes drop to her mouth. Fuck, she wants him so much even that makes her wet. "I didn't think you wanted me anymore."
"I want you so badly," she says, almost whimpering it, and she hates herself a little for that, for being so weak in him, but he pulls her forward and crushes her against him and his mouth is against hers at long fucking last and God, that's exactly what she needed. To be held by him, to feel him against her, really and truly here, really and truly hers.
"Please," she says, and he's already tugging her into his lap. She straddles him, the ridge of his cock making itself known under her thighs. She's wearing some t-shirt dress and leggings her mom got for her and she hates it, she absolutely hates it. She misses her sleek suits and her jeans that didn't have an elastic panel in them and being able to wear any of her sweaters without feeling like she's stretching them out in the bust. She misses the body Mulder couldn't stop touching. But he can't seem to stop touching her now, either: his hands cradle her tits, slide down her back, mold themselves over her hips. He even touches her belly, very gently, but like he's maybe a little less afraid of it.
"Can we...?" he asks.
"If we don't, I might die," she tells him, and kisses him. He kisses her back like her mouth is the only thing that can save him. His tongue is in her mouth and God, she missed it. She missed everything about him. Even the smell of his skin is intoxicating. She grabs him around the neck like she'll float away if she doesn't hold on.
They kiss until she's dizzy with need. She breaks away and sits back on her heels, panting a little. "That was a joke. About dying."
"I got that," he says, "but we can't take that chance." His hands skim up her thighs, under the hem of her giant unflattering t-shirt. She lifts her hips and her arms so he can pull it up and over her head. Immediately, his eyes are on her tits, and then his face is buried in them, his lips wandering over her skin. She moans as he thumbs her nipples through her ugly maternity bra. They're so sensitive and he knows exactly how to touch her somehow. He always did.
"Is it weird if I suck on your tits?" he asks, the words muffled by her cleavage. In answer, she lifts her nipple to his mouth and moans again as he tongues her through the fabric. Fuck, it feels good. She grinds on the bulge of his erection. She's come just from this, but not for a long time. She moves faster, torn between wanting to hump him into oblivion and wanting to come with him inside her, his skin against hers. The second possibility wins out. She crawls off his lap.
"Everything okay?" he asks. His eyes are hazy with desire and his hair is mussed. He looks so much like Mulder-Before that her heart squeezes and she almost wants to cry. They're not who they were. But they can be themselves again.
"No," she says, and gets to see his panic face. "You've got way too many clothes on."
"You got me," he says, stripping off his shirt. His scars are fading, much less livid than they were in the hospital. She studies him with an appreciative eye as he undoes his jeans. He's still got it. He wiggles out of his jeans and helps her peel out of her leggings and her maternity underwear.
"How do we do this?" he asks.
"However we want," she says. "Mulder, pregnant people can have sex." She is very, very slightly worried given how many problems she's already had, but not enough to stop. They deserve one fucking break in the midst of all of this, one thing that's still the same.
"Lean back," she tells him, nudging him toward the corner of the sofa. He goes where he's told, his cock bobbing as he moves. The slightly reclined position makes room for her stomach. It might not be the most comfortable, but she wants to look at him. She straddles him again, up on her knees. His hand is between her thighs, sliding between her folds. He swears in a low voice when his fingers find where she's wet. She echoes him when he brushes his slick thumb over her clit. It's like Fourth of July fireworks and twinkling lights on Christmas morning all at once, but inside her body.
"I want you," she tells him, looking down at him.
"You got me," he promises. "I want you so much, Scully."
"Show me," she says, sinking down. He guides his cock into her. God, it's been too long. She's tight, and even though she's so wet for him, it takes a minute to take all of him. She eases herself down and down and down the hot length of him. She moans as she takes him deeper, spreading her knees on the sofa to get another half-inch. Finally she's resting against his thighs and she's so full she thinks she could come just like this, just feeling him all the way inside her. He puts one hand on her face, as tender as if it's their first time. In a way, it is, all over again.
"I missed you," he whispers, and she bursts into tears as she starts to move. But she's laughing and crying at the same time, riding him. She lets herself be loud, lets herself be messy. He should see how he undoes her. But his mouth is open and desperate under hers too. His hands tremble on her skin.
"I missed you so much," she says, the words broken up by kisses and by the way he thrusts up into her. She loves feeling the strength of him under her. She loves his arms around her. His bare skin against hers is what she's been craving the worst her entire pregnancy. She has brief flashes of what it would have been like if he'd been here the whole time: the way he would have caressed the slight swell of her growing belly, the delight in his eyes feeling the baby kick.
"It's not too late," she says, and he groans in agreement. She's close. She sits up so she can ride him hard, grinding her pelvis against him. His fingers find her clit and she gasps, a sharp noise. He grins up at her.
"Hips before hands," she pants.
"I knew you loved baseball," he says roughly.
"Just the nice piece of ash," she says, and he flicks her clit just right and she's coming, shivering around his cock. He throbs inside her, thrusting up like he can't help himself. It's all she can do to grip his thighs with her knees as he pounds into her, but she won't shut her eyes. She needs to see him. She watches his pleasure build. His mouth is open and his cheeks are flushed. There's a light in his eyes she hasn't seen since Before.
"Come on," she urges. "I need this."
He makes an inarticulate noise that's about half her name and comes hard, his thighs like steel under her. She holds him as her muscles flutter in delicious empathy. His eyes are shining as he looks up at her. A tear rolls down his cheek. She catches it on her thumb and brings it to her lips. He laughs, sounding surprised.
She climbs off him. It's a slightly difficult process, but he braces her with his hands and that helps. She retrieves the detested t-shirt dress and wads it under herself to shield the couch from any sticky residues. They both lie back against the cushions, breathing hard.
"What were we fighting about?" she asks.
"Whether I love the Yankees more than I love you, I think," he says, sprawling next to her.
"You do," she says. "But that's okay."
"I don't," he says. "I don't love anything more than I love you, Scully. Not even ghosts."
She meets his eyes. His gaze is steady. "Okay," she whispers.
"Okay." He nods. "As for things I might have said about anyone else you were fucking, it's not an excuse to say that I was insanely jealous, but it does explain it a little. Sorry I was a dick."
"Sometimes we were both dicks," she says. "I think that's how love works."
"You wanna find out together?" He holds out his hand.
"Yeah," she says, taking it. "I do."
On the television, a baseball soars into a cloudless blue sky. It's a grand slam.
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So sweet!!
Fictober Day 26: Let's Give Them Something To Talk About
Prompt: "You were the first"
@living-in-unreality sent in this ask: Mulder or Scully overhears office gossip about two other agents being placed on separate teams after their workplace relationship was discovered. Bonus points if it happens when the MSR pining is at its peak and they are still scared to take that leap. Rating: T, wc: 1,580
Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober24
Over the years, he’s been the topic of office gossip more than once. So when he sees the huddled group and hears the whispering, his mind kicks into overdrive, wondering what he—or they—might have done this time.
But he can’t come up with anything. He and Scully have been model agents of decorum. So what is it about?
He inches closer, trying not to draw any attention to himself. While most agents know him by reputation, few engage in idle chit-chat with him. Then one of the men spots him and crooks a finger at him.
“Spooky, have you heard?” He decides to ignore the dreaded nickname and lets himself be drawn into the circle. He catches a whiff of entitlement and a hint of contempt. But his curiosity is too strong to step away.
“Heard what?”
“The Anderson and Davis affair.” Mulder has no idea who these people are or what they’ve done. His expression must say as much because the agent continues. Not after he rolls his eyes, though.
“They did the nasty. Hooked up. They were found out and have been put on separate teams. I think if Kersh could have, he would have transferred one of them out of state.” Everyone except Mulder laughs. His ears are ringing. He may not know who these two agents are, and he may not be in this exact situation, but it hits far too close to home.
“It’s like I always say,” one of the other agents says. Mulder is certain he’s seen him before, but can’t place him.
“Don’t shit where you eat and don’t fuck where you work.” Another round of laughter makes Mulder feel queasy. He excuses himself, unsure if anyone hears him or even cares. He himself doesn’t care.
The only thing he thinks about is what he’s just witnessed. A team split up because of a personal, romantic relationship. His thoughts jump to Scully. To their journey toward more than friends and partners. What if this happened to them? God knows they’ve tried to separate them before. He can’t let it happen. He can’t risk losing her.
*
Scully’s eyes are burning a hole into his temple. They’re challenging him to turn and give her a sign or anything to assure her he’s okay. But he keeps his head and eyes forward. He’s not paying attention to the meeting at all; that in itself is nothing unusual.
More often than not, Mulder and Scully will doodle, share a crossword puzzle, or even send notes back and forth. Like a couple of teenagers. His reluctance to face her has consequences too. Someone elbows him in the ribs and then there’s a neatly folded piece of paper in front of him.
“Are you okay?” Only Scully would send a note like this. It’s so her that he almost smiles. Instead, and with great difficulty, he screws the note up and puts it in his pocket.
He’s so tempted to turn to her and see her expression, but he doesn’t dare. He’ll crumble. He knows he’s on borrowed time as it is; as soon as this meeting is over, Scully will find him. His queasiness returns and he swallows hard.
Once the meeting is over, Mulder grabs his things and flees the conference room. He’s lucky that he’s tall and broad; agents step aside and let him through.
“Mulder.” Scully’s voice is too demanding to keep walking. He freezes and turns to her.
“Are you okay? What’s the matter?” It’s the worry in her tone and expression that gets him.
“Not feeling well,” he mumbles. At least it’s only half a lie.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” She puts her hand on his forehead and he winces. What if someone sees them? What if they draw the wrong conclusions? He bats her hand away, and the hurt in her eyes is too much for him to bear.
“I’m just gonna- going home. See you.” Her eyes follow him as he stalks off. What the hell is he going to do now?
*
The knock doesn’t surprise him; he expected it. What surprises him is how long Scully stayed away. He opens the door and there she is, holding a plastic bag.
“Hey,” he says.
“How are you feeling?” He shrugs. “I brought you chicken soup.” That’s his Scully. Against his better judgment, he opens the door wider and she steps inside, walking in under his still outstretched arm.
“I didn’t make it,” she says, unloading the bag in his kitchen. “I wouldn’t want you to feel worse.” A smile flits across her face. It only fades when she sees his blank face.
“Did something happen?” she asks point blank, crossing her arms in front of her chest. In that moment she reminds him of Diana. He’s wise enough not to mention it – even if it would drive her away. He doesn’t want to hurt her. None of this is her fault.
In the past, when no one cared what agents did in their private lives, and when he and Diana could have been Anderson and Davis – whoever they are – she’d close herself off to him just like this. She’d wanted space when he wanted closeness. It wasn’t that either of them were bad people; they had just never worked.
“Mulder, please, whatever it is, we-”
“I heard some gossip today.” That doesn’t faze Scully. What must the gossip mill be like in the ladies’ room? The men are bad enough as it is.
“About us? That’s nothing new, is it? Just ignore it.”
“Not about us,” he admits, biting his lip. “Do you know Anderson and Davis?” Her eyes grow wide.
“I know Agent Davis,” she says. “Why? Did something happen to them?”
“In a manner of speaking. They were caught and split up.”
“Caught?” Scully asks and he realizes that she isn’t grasping what he doesn’t want to say out loud.
“They were more than partners.” The penny still hasn’t dropped. “They were in a relationship,” Mulder explains. “A romantic relationship.”
“So?”
“So? I’m not going to- Scully, they were split up because they’re dating.”
“That’s against regulations,” Scully says, sounding sure of herself. Mulder shakes his head.
“I heard it, Scully.”
“Where?” Her voice is laced with suspicion and her arms are still crossed.
“In front of the men’s room.”
“Oh, Mulder. How do you even know they were telling the truth? Do you know what insane rumors are making the rounds in the Hoover building?”
“But… Anderson and Davis have been put on separate teams. I checked.” He didn’t do it to get proof. He wanted to put faces to their names. For a while, he just stared at their ID pictures. There was nothing particularly special about them; Mulder has probably crossed their path several times in the last few years.
“They could have been split up for a number of reasons. There’s no rule against partners dating.”
“How do you know that?” Scully blushes.
“I checked.”
“When?” He needs to know.
“Recently,” she admits, clearing her throat. “That’s not the point, Mulder. You’ve been acting strange all day. What does this rumor have to do with anything?”
“When I heard what happened,” Mulder says, “you were the first… the first thought that crossed my mind.”
“Me?”
“You and… me. I know I’m presuming things here and we’re not- but we could maybe eventually and I panicked.”
“And instead of telling me this, you thought you’d ignore me, pretend to be sick, and run off?”
“Well, when you say it like that,” he says, smiling sheepishly. “I couldn’t – I can’t risk losing you, Scully. That’s all. I couldn’t get it out of my head. What if someone saw us play baseball the other night?”
His most cherished memory, now tainted. Just the thought. He imagines someone keeping tabs on them, waiting for them to cross the line. He had wanted to kiss her so badly. All the stars had aligned – literally. And he’d chickened out. Now he thinks that maybe it was better this way.
“What we do in our private time is our business.”
“Apparently not,” Mulder mumbles.
“Mulder, you don’t know what happened. They might have been frisky while on assignment or at work. And either way, we’re not like them.” It takes him a moment to catch her meaning. They’re not like them. What she’s saying is that they’re not at risk because she isn’t interested in changing their relationship at all. Once again, he’s been misreading all the signs.
“No,” he says dejectedly. “We’re not.”
“No, Mulder, you don’t understand.” She sighs, invading his personal space. “When we- when that happens, we’ll inform HR.”
When – not if.
“What you’re saying is?”
“Please presume things,” she says. She smiles at him before she gets on her tiptoes and presses a kiss to his lips. He blinks as rapidly as his heart beats. “I leafed through the regulations last month,” Scully confesses with pink cheeks. “While romantic relationships are not encouraged, they’re not forbidden. All you have to do is disclose them to HR.”
“We can do that,” he says, his spirits lifting. She nods, unable to hide her smile.
“And I could have just told you that earlier, but you decided to play possum.”
“Gotta add some spice sometimes, Scully.” He grins at her. “So, when do you think we should let HR know?”
“Tomorrow.” She’s in his arms, kissing him, and he’s agreeing with everything she says and does.
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Women will burn it all down. We ride at dawn
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It’s true.
If you want to fall in love with a show that will always have fanfic, memes, and new hot takes about when the two mains fucked 30+ years after the fact…
Ladies, gents, and Figi Mermaids may I present:
THE X-FILES
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You’re my fave!! Your stories are always so sweet and they make my heart glow!
Fictober Day 9: Heard Any Good Rumors Lately?
Prompt: "Don't listen to me, listen to them"
Angst/Hurt/Comfort/Jealousy in season 6 when Diana can't wait to share a rumor with Scully... Rating: T, wc: 1,552
Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober24
When the restroom door opens, she’s just finished washing her hands, observing her face in the mirror in front of her. Scully glances over and is disappointed, but not surprised, to see Diana Fowley there. Her nose itches when she catches a whiff of her perfume.
“Good afternoon, Agent Scully,” she says, standing right beside her at the sink, her face close to the mirror.
“Good afternoon,” she replies, intending to leave, but Diana blocks her way.
“Have you heard?” she asks and Scully is genuinely taken aback.
“Heard what?” It doesn’t take long for her to regret asking. Diana’s expression turns from a small, polite smile into a huge smirk, and Scully knows by now that it’s never a good sign.
“About Fox.” At first, she thinks something must have happened. Her heart gallops in her chest and she wants to ask Diana where he is, how bad it is, and how quickly she can get to him. But if something had happened to Mulder, the other woman wouldn’t be grinning. Even she isn’t that cruel.
“Enlighten me.” She puts her hands on her hips, hoping Diana can’t see them shaking.
“The rumor is-,” Diana steps closer to her, invading her personal space. As if she were a friend or a confidant. “That our dear Fox is in love.”
Once, when she was barely a teen, wearing her first bra that she thought would finally draw boys’ attention to her, Melissa stormed into her room, revealing that she'd just kissed Parker McMann - the boy Dana had had a secret crush on all summer. She stammered a ‘good for you’ before she broke into tears. It had seemed like the end of the world. Melissa held her, dried her tears, and promised her baby sister that she’d never again kiss a boy she liked. A promise she'd kept. Diana’s words now cut just as deep. It can’t be true. Deep in her heart, Scully knows it. This is just a sick joke Diana is playing. She knows how to push her buttons. She thinks of Mulder, of the last few days, the last week. Rationally, it just doesn’t make any sense. She arches an eyebrow in disbelief, nevertheless intrigued.
“You’re wondering who it is, don’t you?” The smirk on her face is by now a permanent fixture. “So did I. Here I was thinking, hmm, isn’t Fox spending all his time with the delectable Agent Scully? Imagine my surprise when I find out that the woman who’s captured his heart isn’t you.”
She’s 13 years old again, but this time there’s no one here to comfort her, to hold her hand and make promises. She puts on her bravest face and digs her fingers into her skin, the pain a welcome distraction. It can’t be, she reminds herself. Cause whatever game Diana is playing, part of what she’s saying is true: She and Mulder have been spending all their time together.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Diana.” Her voice is steadier than she thought possible.
“Don’t listen to me,” the other woman says and puts her arm around Scully. It’s not a friendly gesture; she holds her in place, one hand on her back. In the same place where Mulder’s hand always is. Her skin prickles and everything inside her screams to get away. “Listen to them,” Diana whispers into her ear.
Before Scully can ask her what and who she means, she hears it: women’s voices. They’re loud and giggly, in full gossip mode.
“I could not believe it,” one of the voices says. “Fox Mulder is dating! I thought he and his partner-”
“What, Agent Scully? No, they’re just friends.” Loud laughter rings in Scully’s ear.
“She’s not his type at all, is she?” Another voice asks, and the round of laughter seems to agree with that assessment.
“He’s such a cutie and deserves someone who’s not as…”
“Cold?” asks someone else, voicing what Scully is feeling. Cold. She’s shivering, frozen in Diana’s grasp.
“Well, you tried, didn’t you?” Diana’s voice is too close and too sugary; she feels dizzy and stumbles when Diana’s arms let go of her. With a wink, she disappears into one of the stalls, right as the group of women steps into the restroom, still giggling.
“Agent Scully,” one of them says with a curt nod. Scully, pretending she hasn’t heard a single word, nods back. As soon as she’s out in the hall, the laughter returns. She can’t get away fast enough. By now, she imagines, Diana has joined in.
In her haste to flee, she doesn’t notice Mulder walking toward her and crashes right into him.
“Missed me?” he jokes, but his smile falls away as soon as he sees her face. “Hey Scully, what happened?”
“Nothing,” she says in a small voice, picking up her pace again with Mulder on her heels.
“Something happened, Scully. I can see it on your face.” This is Mulder. Half an hour ago, she wouldn't have thought twice about seeking solace in his friendship. Now? After what she’s just had to witness, and hear, she wants to lick her wounds in peace. But Mulder doesn’t let go of her. As soon as his hand lands on her back where Diana touched her less than ten minutes ago, she crumbles.
“Hey, hey.” Before she knows what’s happening, Mulder has engulfed her in his arms, holding her close to him. His heart is racing against her ear. “Scully, please tell me what happened. Please.” But she stays quiet, allowing herself this moment.
“Let’s go back to the office, hm?” His arm remains around her as he leads her to their basement office. With her eyes kept down, she doesn’t see if anyone’s giving them looks. She can’t see – or hear – any more today.
“Can you please tell me now what happened? You went to get a coffee and now you’re crying. Who do I have to hurt?” He accentuates his attempt at humor with a smile.
“Yourself,” she says without thinking.
“I- what?”
“It doesn’t matter, Mulder. Your private life is your private life. I was just surprised that- you should know that the rumor mill is well oiled.”
“Rumor mill? I think you’ve lost me.”
“People know,” she says simply, leaning against the side of the desk, trying to regain her composure. Mulder doesn’t owe her an explanation, but she thought they were friends. There have been moments when she thought they were more than that.
“Can I be people? Cause I feel like I don’t know anything.”
“About your girlfriend.”
“About my what?” he has the audacity to laugh.
“Your girlfriend. Or partner, whatever term you use.” Lover, she thinks. Mulder’s lover. She blushes, having to remind herself that it’s not her. That it won’t be her.
“You’re my only partner, Scully. I don’t know what you heard, or whoever said what, but I can assure you that I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“But Diana said-”
“Since when do you believe anything Diana says?” he asks with a laugh.
“She was very convincing. So were the other women.”
“The other-,” Mulder trails off and shakes his head. “I don’t even want to know. But I think I know what happened.” Scully raises an eyebrow, her heart doing silly things again. Only this time, she doesn’t mind.
“So the other day Diana propositioned me,” Mulder says and as if knowing what saying something like that might do to her, he steps into her space. “And I politely told her no, thank you, no interest. Diana isn’t someone who likes hearing the word no, though. So I told her a little white lie. It’s not even a lie when you think about it. I said I was interested in someone else. She asked me who, and I said she doesn’t know her. Which is the truth.”
“I see,” Scully says quietly, reading between the lines. There is someone Mulder is interested in and it still isn’t her.
“You know why I said it?” Mulder’s voice is close to her face now, warm and gentle. “Cause she doesn’t know you at all. The real you. ” Her eyes grow wide when she registers what he just said. She regards him, searching for a twitch around his lips, any indication that he’s messing with her. But there isn’t.
“So whatever lies and rumors Diana is spinning,” he says, leaning even closer, “don’t listen to her. I didn’t know she’d corner you. I should have known better. Sometimes she still surprises me – and not in a good way.”
“I feel so silly,” Scully admits.
“Don’t,” Mulder says, his thumb stroking her cheek. “It’s cute.”
“Mulder…”
“No, it is. Makes it easier for me to…,” he doesn’t finish whatever he means to say and instead kisses her right where his thumb has just been. “Been wanting to do that for a while. We’re not giving Diana credit for this, all right?” His smile is warm and tender. How could she have doubted him for even a second?
“We won’t.” And against her better judgment, she leans forward, pressing a promising kiss to his lips. Just as she’s debating whether they should throw caution to the wind altogether, the door opens, and Diana walks in and the smirk slips off her face.
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"While I was trying to photograph the Northern Lights in the wee hours of the morning, my cat decided to photobomb the picture. Since I had the camera’s shutter speed maxed out, it ended up leaving a sort of ghostly image of my cat in the photo."
Photographer: Kristie Kohn
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Why is this so true.
saddest thing that can happen is a cat so delicately and cozy putting their small apple head on your leg like a pillow to sleep while fully unaware that in like five minutes you're going to get up to go eat because they don't know human language or how time works
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“My gf who has somehow never petted a cat before described purring”
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Like me - I’m allergic. Good thing my brain wasn’t built for science anyway. Also - I was born way later than him.
we all got really lucky that alexander fleming wasn’t allergic to penicillin huh
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It’s true - there is A LOT of animosity towards Chris Carter and I have it too. The misogyny comes in because a vast majority of shippers are women. He always wanted the aliens/mythology to be the focus. He just had the “bad” luck of hiring 2 actors who had a ridiculous amount of chemistry. Like, unstoppable chemistry.
i think one of the funniest like fanon lore things in the x files fandom is that chris carter HATESSS mulder and scully being romantic and hates them as characters but like i really don't think he does. i think... he resents his audience being smarter than him? when the audience comes to a logical conclusion before him or better than him he lashes out at that. i think he knows that his original intention with mulder and scully kind of got out of his hands and i think that bothers him, i don't think that they became romantic bothers him. i actually do believe him when he talks about them being in love and there tender things he says about them. they're his characters, he loves them. i think he just loves himself too much to feel like the audience is a peer and not like, someone to combat with? and yes a lot of that stems from misogyny.
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