#after she came rutting against my chest yesterday she started getting soft until i quietly said i wanted her inside me

[lavenderedhoney]

Idk if there's anything as hot as seeing and feeling her get hard bc I told her I want her to fuck me

[catxtopia]

Lips Of a Stranger} Chp. 10

Author: catxtopia

Ship: Billdip ((fluffy))

Characters: Dipper Pines, Mabel Pines, Bill Cipher, Gideon Gleeful

Summary: The Night Vale AU no one asked for.

Author notes: I am back on my bullshit, lets finish this.

chap.1 | chap.2 | chap.3 | chap. 4 |  chap. 5&6 | chap. 7 |  chap. 8 | chap. 9

Read: ao3

((HOHO Betcha thought you saw the last of me.

Four years late but hey I fricken finished this shit! I sat down literally yesterday after a kind person commented that they still wait for updates on this story (srsly so sorry and you're so sweet holly heck, never say comments don't totally motivate a writer) and finished this. I already had this chapter written many years ago but I didn't wanna post it until I finished the rest (so sorry for my dumb past self). So this one sounds pretty much the same as the rest of the story, however cannot confirm for the rest of the work.

I haven't written in ages, I don't particularly like writing anymore if I am being honest. I am not great at it but I have a lot of ideas lmao. So I just wanna preface that the ending... probably not great lol. I will have a full report on the last chapter, however, on my old ideas for this story and what I thought it could be. There is probably a lot of plot holes and unanswered things but I tried^^;;;

Anyways, I'll upload either every day or every other day depending. But this shall finally be finished lads! (also no beta, we're animals here)))

“You found it!?”

Lying still, yet menacingly, on the kitchen table was a maroon journal with a black number 1 inked firmly in the center. It was larger than an average book and much worse for wear, the red leather was ripped and mystery blotches were smudged in several different locations on the cover. Mabel and Dipper stood around the object that had been of desire for so long. Neither made a move to touch it, treating it like an old relic—which it very well could have been as far as Dipper knew.

“Yeah, it was in this wired compartment in a tree outside.” Dipper scratched lightly at his chin, eyes roaming over the book. His fingers itched with curiosity for he had yet to open and examine the contents inside. He wasn’t sure if he should, waiting for Cipher seemed like the logical option but that required calling the man, followed by seeing him again, and the thought of meeting gold eyes sent his stomach through all kinds of loops. Thus, his phone stayed promptly in his pocket where it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

“Compartment in a tree, huh?” Mabel repeated, a confused look crossing her face. She, too, moved her hand to rub lightly at her chin in thought. “How’d you come across that?”

Dipper stiffened ever so slightly, and then casted a glance at his intrigued sister. He cleared his throat and shifted to stuff his hands in his pockets roughly. “I just, ya know, fell against it.” He shrugged, trying his best to remain cool—which was, to say, impossible when it came to Dipper Pines.

“Fell against it, hm?” Mabel’s eyebrow slowly started rising.

“Yes, I fell against it!” Dipper sputtered, looking away towards the book again. “The details of how I found the book aren’t important. What is important is that I found it !”

Mabel stifled her giggles as much as her lips would allow. “Whatever you say, Bro bro.” She mused and leaned over the dusty object, intentionally ignoring the tomato that was now her brother beside her. He’d been through enough teasing this morning, she’d let him off the hook this once. “What do you thinks inside?”

Dipper leaned back against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “No idea.” He quietly thought back to the times he and Cipher were looking for said book. A distant memory of going to the junkyard and the words black magic and demons , danced in the back of his mind but he elected to ignore those warnings. If the book really was dangerous, there was no way Cipher would be looking for it. At least that’s what Dipper told himself.

“Are you going to open it?” Mabel quirked a brow, eyes not leaving the book.

Dipper shifted against the counter. “I don’t know, Mabes. Maybe we should wait for Cipher to open it first.”

Mabel pursed her lips and squinted at the book.

There was a long pause, the only sound being whispers from the TV playing in the other room. Then Mabel, with a big intake of breath, announced loudly: “I am gonna open it.” And quickly flipped the front cover open.

“Mabel!” Dipper yelped, but his words fell on deaf ears as the young girl turned another page, and then another. “Mabes, seriously, be careful with it! We don’t know what it is, it could be super old and crumble at human touch! Who knows what—”

As Dipper rambled on and on, Mabel’s quick movements tentatively began to slow. She flipped only one more page before stopping and taking in a soft gasp, voice riddled with distraught. “Oh my gosh.” She whispered breathlessly. Dipper paused in his ranting, staring at the back of his sister's head since he couldn’t see the book around her. “I can’t believe this.”

“What?” He inquired, a drop of unease plopping into the pits of his stomach. Mabel’s shoulders were tense; body rigged with what Dipper could only assume was fear. She looked as though she was witnessing a demon rise out from the pits of hell, or at the very least like her sweaters were being set aflame. And throughout it all, all Dipper could hear were McGucket’s warnings ringing loud and clear inside his jumbled head. “That books bad news I tell ya! Black magic, raising devils, kinda bad news! Nothin good ever came out of that thing.” Dipper cringed at the voice. “What is it?”

“It’s terrible…” Mabel whispered, leaning further over the book. Her hair draped over the yellowing pages, eyes hidden behind thick bangs. “Cipher, he’s…”

“What? What about Cipher?” Dipper stepped closer. He could feel his heart thump a little faster with each step he took towards his sister.

“He’s a…” The girl moved back, turning swiftly to face her brother. Her face was red and cheeks puffed out, eyes leaking frustrated tears and— “ He’s a giant nerd just like you!” She exclaimed dramatically, throwing one hand towards the opened journal and another over her stomach as she doubled over laughing.

Dipper stared, dumbfounded as his sister flopped onto the tabled to keep from falling onto the floor. She was wheezing and stomped a foot every so often, trying to regain her breathing. He couldn’t believe this. “Mabel.” Dipper squinted hard at the girl. The only answer he got was more laughing and a few arm flails. “Mabel, you jerk.” Dipper sighed, but a small smile was tugging at his lips.  

“Oh! Oh!” Mabel giggled, laughter beginning to die out into soft gasps. “Oh my gosh, yo- your face!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dipper rolled his eyes. “You got me.” Behind his ribs, his heart was still pounding with adrenaline. He willed his limbs to stop their jittery shakes and calm the hell down. There was nothing to worry about, Mabel was just being her usual dork self. He looked towards the open book finally, now being able to get a good view of it. “So what’s in this thing, anyways?”

Having calmed down a bit, Mabel slipped across the kitchen in her fluffy pink socks, clamped onto the fridge handle and yanked it open to retrieve a can of Pit Cola. She juggled it in her hands, closing the door again with her hip. As she snapped the can open she explained lightly, “Looks like a dictionary for supernatural stuff to me. Really wired, it’s all hand written and stuff.” She paused and took a big gulp of her drink.

Dipper nodded and examined the scribbles and notes about different creatures. His eyes widened the further he flipped from page to page, completely entranced with the object sitting before him. It was no wonder Cipher wanted this thing, the stories he could produce with the book would be endless!

“This is amazing.” Dipper breathed. Gnomes, Zombies, Ghosts, this book was like a paranormal junkies Holy Grail.  

Mabel hummed and jumped up onto the counter. “It makes sense why Cipher would want this. I am sure he will be happy you found it.” She mused, swinging her legs back and forth to the rhythm of a song stuck in her head. “Now you guys don’t have to go searching anymore! That’ll probably be a big nuisance off his shoulders.”

Dipper hummed absentmindedly as he drew his finger along the edge of the book, a thin layer of dust bunched up and latched onto his finger. He pulled his hand back, pinching the ball of dirt between his thumb and index finger till the grains rolled off his skin. He wondered briefly how long the book had been in that tree for, and for what reason.

“No more long hours trekking through stores and the occasional dumpster. I wonder if this old thing will help him with his work, or if that’s even what he wanted it for.” Mabel muttered against the rim of her soda can.

Dipper’s fingers instantly stilled, entire body freezing like someone had pushed a pause button on the boy’s life. No more long hours trekking through stores and the occasional dumpster . The words bounced around in his head several times and every repeat left a horrible taste in his mouth. He gulped and dropped his hand, brushing it harshly against his faded jeans. “Yeah, don’t know.” He bit out.

A minute ago he’d been excited to see Cipher’s reaction to his discovery, because damn it he was proud! And maybe boasting a little in the ego department. Now dread was filling up his core. No more time with Cipher…

Mabel slurped at her drink loudly, oblivious to the way her brother scooped up the book with a hesitant hand. “So, when are you gonna tell him?” She looked up past her wavy bangs, confused to find Dipper retreating towards the stairs at a quick pace. “Dipper?”

.:.:.

Dipper paced along the length of his bedroom, feet scuffing against the hardwood floor. He could practically feel the wood splintering away with each step he took. It was only a matter of time before he’d run a rut in the floor. He could hardly bring himself to care; however, as he gnawed at his thumbnail in a simple attempt to help distract his brain.

This was stupid, Dipper was stupid. He could hardly believe he was even thinking about the train of thought that he was. Not telling Cipher about the book? What kind of nonsense was that? He had to; it was his moral duty to give up the journal to the radio host. Otherwise, everything they’d done together thus far would be for nothing. The whole reason Dipper was being kept around was for the sole purpose of finding the book.

And once you give the book up, you won’t have a reason to be around Cipher anymore , Dipper thought sullenly. He turned once he paced as far as he could towards the door, changing direction to continue shuffling back the route he came towards the triangle window above his bed. It was a vicious cycle, this back and forth, back and forth. All the while he kept his eyes glued on the ground. He paused when his irises caught sight of a neatly folded pile of clothes at the end of his bed. Black jacket, pants, yellow scarf… A flash of blonde hair and the feel of rough bark against his back blurred past his eyes.

There would probably be no more of that once he gave up the book. Dipper lightly drew a finger against his chapped lips. If he thought hard enough he could still feel the pressure Cipher’s smooth lips had left against his own.

“Oh man.” Dipper mumbled aloud. Here he was worrying over some scraps of paper sewn together, while he should be questioning the fluttering in his chest from earlier interactions.

Cipher had kissed him and he’d be lying if he didn’t say he thoroughly enjoyed it. Both Mabel and Pacifica will be delighted to rub it in his face once they find out.  

Dipper dropped onto his bed with a frustrated groan. Everything was happening all so suddenly, so fast he couldn’t make left or right of the images flashing before his eyes. And it was all because of that darn radio host with his perfect golden hair and otherworldly eyes. Not to mention his lean body that fit so right against Dipper’s the night before, warm like a blanket and oh so comfortable… Dipper shook his head quickly, expelling any further thoughts of Cipher’s body.

Really, Cipher was too handsome for his own good. It was practically supernatural.

Dipper snorted at the thought and fell back against the bed. He stared up at the ceiling, a soft sigh fluttering past his lips. What to do, what to do. He slid his hands up to rest on his chest and began tapping his fingers against his worn shirt.

“So you tell him.” Dipper muttered to himself. “You tell him about the book. It’ll make him happy, probably further his show somehow and bring in more listeners, which will make his work life better.” His fingers paused in their tapping, then slowly started picking up a rhythm again as he let another thought enter his mind. “Or you don’t tell him, you continue looking for the book as if you haven’t already found it and grow closer. Eventually he’ll forget about the book and move on, which will make his personal life better.”

“You don’t tell him and possibly ruin his career .” A voice that sounded eerily similar to Mabel’s rumbled in the back on his head. Ah, the voice of reason. It was bound to come poking its ugly face in here eventually.

“I don’t necessarily know if it’s for his show.” Dipper grumbled, sinking a little further against his bed. Great now he was talking to himself.

“What else would he need it so badly for?”

“I don’t know, curiosity? For a collection, maybe? His life revolves around the supernatural; it’s not that farfetched to want a journal filled on the subject.”

“So you’d rather keep the object of his desire away from him, in the hopes you become that object for him instead. That’s quite selfish.”

“Well no one asked you.” Dipper huffed and rolled onto his side. He stared aimlessly out the triangular window nearby. The sun had already begun to drip close to the tree line, casting an array of colors throughout his room. It was beautiful, really, all oranges and reds, and the occasional pink glow scattering across the shack's rustic interior. His eyes followed the colorful trail of light right back to the pile of clothes at the end of his bed. He stared at the yellow scarf for a long while before he worked up the strength to reach for it.

The fabric was so soft, softer than anything he’d felt before. It was probably really expensive. Dipper tugged the material fully into his palms and laid back down. He held onto the scarf like a blanket, running the pads of his fingers over the kind stitching. “Maybe he won’t leave once he has the book.” Dipper thought aloud once again. He was starting to make a habit out of talking to himself apparently.

It wasn’t like he wanted to keep information from Cipher, especially news that’d make him happy. The paranoia engraved deep in his soul that the man would eventually forget about him if they had no reason to be around each other was just too overpowering. Even though there was a good chance Cipher liked hanging around Dipper for Dipper and not just for his searching skills. It was a big chance, honestly. You don’t just kiss someone you plan on ditching. Cipher seemed like a better person than that, anyways.

But doubt was always louder than hope.

With a quick glance at the clock—which already read 5:10PM—Dipper decided he’d allow himself to sleep on it. It was already late so there was no use calling up Cipher now; he wouldn’t be able to come by until tomorrow anyways.

Settling on that, Dipper rolled over and closed his eyes. Super wouldn’t be ready for another hour or so and a nap sounded like a pleasant idea in the meantime.

.:.:.

Three days.

It’d been three days since Dipper found the old journal hidden in a tree. The journal, which a certain radio host had yet to know, was within Dipper’s possession. It had been shamefully tucked away in the brunet’s desk under a pile of scrap papers. It wasn’t the greatest hiding spot by any means, but Dipper didn’t feel comfortable leaving the relic under his bed or somewhere in his closet. At least in his desk, the book didn’t face any chances of getting ruined.

He stuck the poor book in the bottom drawer with the intention of returning to it in a week – because a night to sleep on deciding to give the book to Cipher just wasn’t enough. He simply wanted a little more time with the radio host to assure he wouldn’t ditch him. That was reason enough, right? In one week time, the book would be given to the blonde man. Until then, Dipper proclaimed he’d live with the guilt and enjoy some downtime with the host.

And what a glorious three days it had been so far. Cipher had been spending a large majority of the days hanging around Dipper’s work again. They’d continued their little routine, but the silence was filled with a lot more bashful glances and sly smiles. The kiss hadn’t been officially mentioned, but the implication that both of them equally enjoyed it and wouldn’t mind doing it again was pretty clearly expressed.

When Dipper wasn’t shackled to his job at the bookstore – and Cipher by extension – they usually ended up spending time around town or the radio station. Very rarely were they away from each other’s side. Not that either was complaining. However, every so often when Dipper would glance Cipher’s way, he’d feel a ball of guilt nibbling away at the core of his stomach. He couldn’t help thinking about the things he was hiding from the man. It didn’t feel right, but at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it.

“Do you like your job?”

Cipher blinked open his eyes and tilted his head a little towards the brunet lying somberly beside him. They’d been lying outside on a patch of drying grass a short ways from the radio station, simply enjoying the last few drops of autumn. The sun was high above them, basking them in a nice enough warmth that they only needed light jackets. Cipher was currently wearing the sweatshirt he had borrowed from Dipper a few days prior, having yet to give it up. Not that Dipper really cared, he felt slightly prideful seeing the radio host wearing something of his.

Cipher shifted his arms, which lay beneath his head. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” He looked back towards the calm blue sky. “It’s fun, I like being able to talk about whatever the hell I want for a living. I am not the biggest fan of having to hide behind a curtain all the time, but it comes with the job.”

Dipper hummed, mulling over that information. He flicked his fingers against the zipper on his jacket. “Why do you have to be so secretive? I doubt anyone would like… attack you or something if they knew who you were.”

Cipher chuckled and turned on his side, arm bent and hand holding up his head. Dipper moved in a similar fashion so that they both faced each other. “There are a few reasons. Gideon thinks having me be unnamed makes me more mysterious, that not only the show holds secrets but even the host does.” He shrugged. “Plus, I like being able to live my life without interruptions. I would get annoyed pretty quickly if people were stopping me on the streets or spewing nonsense about me in teen magazines.”

Dipper twirled his fingers around a few blades of grass, tugging them lazily as he listened. “And here I thought you liked attention.”

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I do! I would love people bending at my every need, but I have standards. I wouldn’t be able to sit here with you like this if I was open about my identity, and that’s not something I am quite willing to give up.”

“I guess that… makes sense.” Dipper pondered. “So you’re a man full of secrets then?”

“I am a man with many angles and lots of knowledge of various topics, who happens to also like having a private life, so if that makes me secretive then I guess I am. However, since I like you I’ll tell you my secrets,” Cipher leaned forward, lips curving into a seductive smirk. “for a price~”

Dipper’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, “Oh really? And what’s your price, Cipher?” He mused, putting up his best confident front.

“Hmmm,” Cipher’s eyes flickered from Dipper’s eyes to his lips then quickly back again. “I don’t know, it’d probably have to be something really pricey since I’ve got a lot of secrets.”

Dipper snorted and rolled his eyes, “What like my soul?” He joked and playfully wiggled his eyebrows.

If one were to have blinked in that moment they probably would have missed the way Cipher’s eyes widened and sparked with wonder for a fraction of a second. He continued to smirk at his companion before rolling onto his back to stare up at the sky once again. “Something like that.” He hummed pleasantly. “I am sure your soul would be a beauty.”

Dipper scoffed and flopped over onto his stomach, arms crossing beneath his chin. He closed his eyes and snuggled a little deeper in his jacket. “Don’t all souls look the same? Like a smoking white ball.”

“I think you’ve been playing too many video games.” Cipher flicked at the edge of Dipper’s ear, earning a small yelp and glare from the boy. “Souls come in all colors and shapes, kid. The more corrupted the soul, the worse it looks. What the world considers ‘sinners’ usually look black, less smoky, more goopy. Like a ball of hot, bubbling tar. While good people are bright, wispy, and usually emit a color.”

“You seem to know a lot about this.” Dipper mumbled into the curve of his arm.

Cipher chuckled under his breath. “Call it a passion of mine.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence after that, lying happily beside each other with only the whispers of wind and occasional tweet of a bird filling the silence. They lay close enough that their arms brushed and with a little maneuvering their hands slipped into each other without question.

It was nice, being able to be together like this without any distractions. To simply enjoy each other’s company. Dipper really didn’t want to let this go, and yet as he peeked past his bangs at the still figure beside him, he knew that he would.

“Hey, Cipher.” Dipper said just barely above a whisper. He watched the blonde’s eyebrow twitch but his eyes remained closed.

“Hm?”

“I gotta tell you something, it’s kind of important, it’s about the b—”

Just as the words were about to flutter out of his mouth, a shrill ring of a phone smacked Dipper’s train of thought straight from his head. His lips latched shut and eyes looked down at Cipher’s glowing pocket, which the man was quickly moving to reach.

He flicked the device on and squinted at the screen as if it had personally offended him. Whether that was because it had interrupted Dipper or not, the boy wasn’t sure.

“Sorry, just an email.” Cipher’s expression lightened considerably as he turned the screen to face Dipper. “Look at this cat jumping in and out of boxes! Giffy sent it. Cats are so silly!”

True to his word, there was a cat hopping into different sized boxes with a small message from Giffany at the bottom of the screen. Dipper smiled softly at the ridiculous video. Of course Cipher would find cat videos funny, what doesn’t he find funny? Dipper thought for a moment and came to the conclusion that, nope, Cipher could get a kick out of anything.

As he watched the video play through, Dipper couldn’t help his eyes wandering to the corner of the screen where a list of information sat. At the top of the list was a name, one that had Dipper’s heart stalling. “Uh.” The boy muttered very intelligently.

Cipher tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brows at Dipper’s odd expression. “What? Don’t tell me you don’t find cat videos funny. Cause I don’t think this relationship can work if—”

“Bill?”

[frangipanidownunder]

Would you write a sequel to your last One Son fic, maybe before The Unnatural where Mulder tries to apologize? Your fic hurt me in the best kind of way.

Healing: fic

A/N You can read the original fic Superficial Burns but you don’t have to read it to understand this sequel, but it might help.

Thanks for the prompt, anon. This is set post One Son through to The Unnatural. 

They play house too soon. He presses to share the master bedroom,“to add authenticity”, but she pushes him out. She’s being petty, she knows, pointingout toothpaste tube and toilet seat misdemeanours. Still, he’s genuinely playful,attentive for a while, but she flips her gloves at him, bats away thecamcorder, turns her cheek as he goes to kiss her. Ironically, their discordonly gives them more authenticity as a couple.

She shut him out and sheshouldn’t have been surprised when he drops her home and doesn’t ask to carryher bag up. Her apartment is as empty as she feels. She goes to bed and punishesherself with the desperate noise he made when he came inside her, the way hislips pressed against the juncture of her jaw and ear lobe, the slow opening ofhis eyes, pupils dilated, surprise followed by awe followed by guilt.

She should have quit. She shouldhave walked away. He did.

Arthur Dales tells Mulder she saved his life, that she issavvy and Mulder has the good grace to look contrite. He’s mysterious about therobbery in the bank, about how he knew the female accomplice. He rambles onabout déjà vu and Scully can’t help but review the past through the lens of thepresent. Like the memory of their frantic coupling in her kitchen is trapped inthe wrong spot in her brain. Like if it only happened yesterday, she would saysomething to him, he would say something to her.

And then he admits to an onlinefriendship with Karin Berquist, a woman enamoured of him yet he acts like hecan’t see it. She wonders just how ignorant he can really be.

He fucked her in her apartmentand hasn’t talked about it since.

She saves a boy in a phonebooth.Saves a child. What she can’t do is save herself. Padgett’s words burn throughher. Agent Scully is already in love.She hates it. She fucking hates that it’s someone else telling her the secretsof her own heart. And that it is so fucking obvious.

She should have quit.

              After, Mulderbooks a motel room. He won’t leave her alone. Part of her wants to yell at himthat he’s as bad as Padgett, always there, hovering. He keeps looking at herchest like there’s a gaping hole there. It’s not that her heart is missing,that’s the thing. It’s that it’s still there. Beating. Full of a secret, hersecret. And she’s sure he can see it.

              “Scully,there’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you for a while,” he says buthe’s lying across the bed with his long legs stretched out and his tee clingingto his frame and that soft expression he wears when he’s off the clock.

              “I’mtired.” She sounds like Laura Petrie.

              His lipspush out and his eyes flick to the television screen briefly. When he turnsback to look at her he sits up and rests his elbows on his knees, rubbing atthe back of his hair. He’s tired too. “I thought I’d lost you,” he says and he’salready taking a huge gulp of air in. He slaps the bed linen and she sees thathe is trembling. “I thought you were dead. In my apartment. On my floor. Yourheart gone.”

              “I’mfine, Mulder.” She’ll always be fine. Heart or not.

              Hecovers his face with his hands. Beautiful long fingers. His strangled moan is ashock. For a split second she thinks he’s weeping, but when his hands fallaway, his eyes are dry and angry. “You’re fine,” he says. “Well, that makes itall right.” The low rumbling is not, she finds out, on the television. It iscoming from him.

              Sheslips under the covers of her bed and turns out the lamp. He doesn’t move. Justgrowls like a wounded, angry Alpha.

The case in Las Vegas is nothing but a fever dream. Mulderpries her for more information but she can’t tell him anything. He accepts it,offers to buy her a bagel.

              “Realcream cheese,” he says and she laughs. It feels like her heart is beating to adifferent rhythm. A lighter one.

              Thediner is too shiny but she lets him yammer on as she tries to hide her eyesfrom the brightness. The bagel is good. Mulder is relaxed, smiling. These arethe times she knows she’ll never quit. He sips his second coffee so slowly shebegins to wonder if he’s building up to something.

              “You okay,Mulder?”

              He looksout to the street where an old couple wander past, arm in arm. “They seem happytogether,” he says. “How do you suppose that feels?”

              “Are youreally asking my expert opinion on the longevity of relationships, Mulder?”

              Hisfingers thrum on the table top, scattering grains of sugar. He chuckles. “We’reshit at this, aren’t we Scully?”

              “This?”

              “Talking.”

              “Ah,yes. That.”

              He doesthat slow blink again and she sees them in her apartment, rutting. Baseemotion. Need. The burn on her fingers.

              “Ishould have told you earlier, after…you know…that night. I was out of line.What I said to you about making it personal. Diana…she believes in me and I…”

              “Ibelieve in you, Mulder.” She stands up. He says nothing more. No scramblingbackwards, no apology, nothing. He fucked her in her apartment and then walkedaway. She holds his gaze just enough to make his lips press together. “I alwayshave.”

              He letsher leave. She should have quit.

              He callsher later. Wants to come round. She tells him she’s busy. He whispers a sorryas she cuts him off. He arrives 30 minutes later. He walks past her, goes tothe kitchen. To the same spot.

              “Why areyou here, Mulder?”

              Hestands where he stood, where he put his hands on her. Where she unzipped hispants and he bunched up her skirt. “You said that before,” he says, “And thenwe…”

              Shefolds her arms around her ribs. Covers her heart. “Fucked.”

              Heflinches.

              “It’swhat we did, Mulder. You could hardly ascribe a more romantic name to it. Didyou tell Diana?”

              “What?No!”

              His too-quickoutburst makes her feel unexpectedly superior. He fucked her and walked away.And maybe he has pushed it deep inside ever since, too.

              Hescratches his chin. “I stood outside your building for ten minutes that night, arguingwith myself about whether to turn round and go back to you.”

              “You’repretty hard to argue against,” she says. “You have this way of twistingeverything into the neat theory you’ve already designed.”

              “Scully.”It’s more resignation than warning. He leans back against the counter, one kneebent towards her. “I came here to say what I should have said then. That I’msorry I said that to you, about Diana. That I should never have reduced yourinput into our partnership to something purely emotional. I…” His hand slamshis bent thigh. “I am sorry, Scully. Truly. I never meant it to happen…”

              “Youneed to leave.”

              “Thatway,” he adds but he’s already nearly at the door. He looks back, framed in thedoorway. “I never meant it to happen that way, Scully. You mean more to me thanthat, much more.”

              He shutsthe door and she leans against it listening to him leave again. Footstepsfading. He won’t wait outside tonight.

              Shetries to sleep but her skin is crawling, burning. Her heart is red hot andheavy in her chest. She imagines strips of it peeling away, shavings of herlove falling deep into an empty cavity. But this time, she doesn’t think sheshould have quit. She knows she can never.

At 2am she drives across town.She knocks quietly. On his couch, he is backlit by the soft ocean colours ofhis fish tank. His stubble cuts a line across his jaw that is as sharp as thestabbing in her chest. Her fingers slide in and out of each other, knucklesrubbing together.

“You mean more to me too, Mulder,”she says. “And I’m sorry for asking you to leave. I…” she licks the dry patch onher lip and the couch creaks as he stands up. “I just wanted to say I’m sorrytoo. I am not good at this.” There is a tear building at the corner of one eye.It’s a weakness she dislikes. A demonstration of her vulnerability that she’sspent years trying to overcome. But he presses his thumb to it, collects hersoftness and lets it run down his wrist.

“Can we start again?”

“Ignore six years of partnership?”

His hand is a familiar comfort onher lower back as he urges her to sit. “No, use six years of partnership to ouradvantage instead of using it as wedge between us.”

One of his mollies floats to theside of the tank and she watches its graceful fins and tail fluttering in thewater. “How do we do that?”

“Doing more of that thing we’reshit at?” He laughs and she cuffs away the tears streaking her cheeks.

“And Diana? Where does she fit inall this?”

He looks ahead, at the posters onhis wall that catch the passing headlights from the street below. “Where shealways did, Scully. In the past.”

They flirt over clichés in the basement office. When hegrapples her tofutti rice dreamsicle from her hands, their skin sparks togetherin way that tingles but doesn’t burn. He kisses her lips and tells her he’sgoing to see Arthur Dales.

              “InFlorida?”

              “No, he’shere in Washington.”

She watches him for a while. The ease with which he swingsthe bat. The movement of his shoulders. He’s in his element.

              “So,uh… I get this message marked urgent on my answering service from one FoxMantle telling me to come down to the park for a very special very early orvery late birthday present. And, Mulder… I don’t see any nicely wrappedpresents lying around so, what gives?”

              It’s notuntil he tells her to “get over here, Scully,” she fully understands what thisis. Sure, it’s baseball. Sure, they flirt. Sure, it’s a date, Mulder-style. Butit’s more than the sum of its parts.

              It’shealing.