#honestly though i think mulder always got on with his partners

[carefulfears]

things to say when trusting the last spy who walked up to your desk saved your life

[cock-holliday]

Stars Align

Fandom: TXF

WC: 869

Mulder had half a mind to change the locks to the basement office. Maybe he could pretend to be someone else entirely. Mulder who? Part of him wanted to lean into the accusations, the assumptions. Spooky Mulder, in the flesh. Put on a real show of being exactly what they wanted to see, and give them nothing they would actually want.

A spy, who were they kidding?

Someone to watch his every move and report over his work. 

But things…shifted once he got her name. Her name.

They were sending a woman. Unexpected. Did they think she would get close to him with flirtation or work twice as hard as any man to be taken seriously–-something Mulder’s spooky reputation would hinder?

He was anxious to get a read on her, curious about what sort of adversary she would prove to be. Then, truth be told, he was beginning to like her. The outlines of this woman were beginning to form a person: military father–-make that Catholic military father, medical and science background. No nonsense–-that’s for sure. Moved around a lot, not many solid connections. Always the new kid at school. A bit of an outsider, honestly. Fighting for recognition in male-dominated science. Then male-dominated medical work. Then male-dominated bureau work. She was either a masochist or stubborn as all hell.

No idiot, though. That much was clear from her writing. She had a no-bullshit style in her published work, but her passion for the subject matter demanded attention. Take me seriously, I have something to say.

Mulder could empathize.

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Mulder could see her as the sort he could maybe convince to take him seriously. There’s no doubt this assignment must be the opposite of a promotion for her work. A punishment of some sort–-maybe hazing. Was she made aware it was punishment or figure it out on her own? She seemed too smart to take this as a simple challenge–-she must have something riding on this meeting. He did too.

So for now he’d behave. No locked doors, no boobytrapped entryways. A peace offering. A chance at allyship.

Maybe she was sent here to reel him in, but a sharp eye and a reputation to risk might be just the combination he could actually use in a partner. Maybe they could even be partners–-not adversaries.

Oh no, he thought when she entered the office–changing his life forever in the process, she’s cute.

—-

“Do you remember,” Mulder began, leaning his shoulder into Scully’s on the couch, “Our first meeting?”

Scully smiled at the thought, “You mean when you were trying so hard to be charming?”

Mulder huffed in mock-offense, “I was being charming.”

Scully chuckled, “You were, I admit. I thought it was cute.”

Mulder’s smile widened as he let the memory sink in. The office. The pressure on them both. Absolutely no idea either of them what sort of wild events would transpire. Mulder’s entire life changed in that moment. The X-Files, the bureau, he was changed in that moment. Scully came into his life and for all the good and all the bad, if Mulder could return to that basement office again he’d shake her hand again and hold it a bit longer. A part of him wished he could have acted on things sooner. Held her longer. Told her earlier. But, he supposed, they might not have ended up on this couch together thirty years later.

“I thought you were cute,” Mulder added, stirring a raised brow from Scully.

Oh, her brow. How many quirks and raises and upturns of that brow has he seen in thirty years? How many kisses has he planted to it by now? How many more will he get to? If he could see that expression of incredulous amusement for the rest of his life, he could die happy.

“You’ve had too much wine,” Scully teased, nodding at the empty glass on the coffee table.

Mulder shrugged, “Maybe, but I haven’t gotten enough of you, yet.”

Scully’s face paused, as if deciding on teasing more for his corniness or embracing it. She smiled.

“I haven’t gotten enough of you yet either.”

Mulder smiled before leaning in her direction, meeting her lips softly. They kissed, like they’ve done hundreds of times before. And like each of those times, the sparks of what began between them thirty years ago stirred a flame in his chest. When they parted, Scully was smiling brightly–uninhibited by all that stood between them all that time ago.

“Which,” Scully began, “You have to admit is pretty impressive. We haven’t gotten fully sick of each other yet?”

Mulder was deeply sentimental, but he couldn’t deny their banter was also an aspect he held quite dear.

“It’s okay,” Mulder smirked, “I’ll keep chasing you. It’s destiny.”

“Fate,” Scully snorted in agreement.

“Fate. The stars came together for this one.”

Scully snorted a laugh, “Who am I to deny the stars, then?”

Who indeed? Mulder had felt so prepared to meet this woman. So sure he had gotten her figured out, but in thirty years, she only ever continued to surprise him. And yet, at the same time, meet him hand in hand again and again.

[medicaldoctordana]

Doing Science 1/3

Rated T

W/C: 3.5k+

Seattle, Washington, 2000

“Over there! That’s her!”

The ecstatic voice drifted over the crowds, over the chatter of hundreds of people crowded in the event space. A group of five pushed past the booths lining the pathway to the spotted individual at the registration table. They stopped in a little alcove, watching the tiny redhead and the tall man beside her get their lanyards and move through the crowd to chat up the stand attendant a couple of booths down.

“Are you sure?”  “Where?” “I can’t see!” Three of the five refuted the first’s claim of a sighting.

“At the registration table, I told you she would be here and I swear it’s her! I did my research!”

“Oh yeah, like you did your research on that Fish Guy.” The last of the five quipped. They were the shortest one in the group and their friends knew them as “Vee”.

“How was I supposed to know trimethylaminuria was a thing? It’s not like I’m a medical doctor.”

“Are you certain it’s her?” The voice came out sounding meek, although she was known for being the most reserved of the five individuals who had all met in an online chatroom almost a decade ago. All of them were meeting up for the third time in person and Nora had been the one to suggest the repeat meetup in the first place.

“Yes I’m sure, I have clippings of all her newspaper articles in a binder back in my room. I know it’s her because she’s always pictured by that six-foot-tall partner of hers. And he’s standing right there.”

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go talk to her!” Handsome and stout described the person speaking. He often held up the back of the line, yet was usually the first to rush forward into something.

The somebody who originally spotted her held his arm out to stop the group aiming to proceed.

“Wait, what are we going to say? ‘Hi we’re your biggest fans, will you please relate to us all your stories about the unbelievable scientific inquiries and discoveries over the past seven or more years?’ No! We can’t do that!”

“Oh! We can ask if she’s the mysterious headliner the conference hasn’t revealed yet!” Bert said, always the one to make room for the good ideas by supplying the bad ones.

“If she is, she’s probably under contract not to say anything, doofus.” The voice was ungodly angelic, even with the unearned name-calling.

“You’re right. Let’s ask her if she’s single!” Bert, once again, throwing out a bad idea.

“Are you kidding me? She’s seeing fellow online phenomenon M.F. Luder.”  Jones slapped his friend squarely on the chest, spurred by the outlandish request.

“No, I think she’s secretly dating her partner at the F.B.I. Mulder.” The tall angelic-sounding woman sneered, filled with jealousy, unsure directed at whom, though. Daphne was the bold and flirtatious one in the group. She looked and sounded like an angel but often acted like a devil.

“Really? I heard she was with some guy named George Hale Kaplan. I’ve read his theories online and they’re very astute though a little pretentious if you ask me,” Vee revealed.

“I think they’re the same person.” Nora chimed in, sometimes her wisdom was taken for granted even though it was praised in the online forums.

“You guys, they’re all the same person. I have the receipts to prove it back in my hotel room. Honestly. Marty and Fox Mantle would be proud of the level of investigation I’ve done.” Jones boasted.

“That’s just another one of your conspiracy theories, Jonesy.” Daphne was always at his throat.

“Well, either way, I’m going to go talk to her. I have so many questions about her approach to closing that case with the invisible elephant. I don’t think we ever got an explanation for that one. I’d love to know what it was like doing an autopsy on a pregnant elephant.” Vee’s scientific interest outran their friends by miles, despite that interest being the thing that brought them all together.

“You mean, necropsy,” Nora corrected.

“Right,” Vee blushed, having been wrong about something in their wheelhouse.

“I’m gonna ask about their episode of Cops. Man, that was a good one.” Bert said, redirecting the excitement.

“Don’t– I think it’s a sore subject for them,” Nora warned. “Oh, really? How would you know?” Bert cajoled.

“Because the way she said, and I quote, ‘The F.B.I. has nothing to hide.’ They definitely had something to hide and she did not seem happy about the camera crew following them around.”

They all hummed in agreement. What were they hiding?

“I wanna know about the invisible man! That was her most recent find!” Jones exclaimed in excitement.

“Yeah, I’ve got questions about her experiences with spontaneous human combustion! I can’t believe she was the one to suggest it. She’s a total skeptic!” Back in the game, Daphne zeroed in on her favorite of the two, having followed both her and her partner’s work the most out of all of them.

“Okay, gang, let’s regroup at 5 with a plan,” Jones suggested.

“But she’s here now! What if we miss our chance!” Bert worried.

“I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem, Mulder’s wearing the 3-day V.I.P. all-access pass lanyard. I’m almost certain we’ll have time.” Vee pointed out. “OMG, I’ve got it! Let’s stake out their rooms! It’ll be like our very own X-File! We’ll be like one of them!” Daphne bounced in place, hitting all her friends in excitement.

“Oh, I like the way you think, Daph. Let’s go!” Jones pushed them out of the alcove to stealthily follow the pair around the corner of the event space.

 A few hours earlier

“Mulder, care to tell me why you happened to find a bum case in this city the exact same weekend as the biggest unexplained phenomenon symposium the U.S. has ever seen? I’m getting flashbacks to that time you dragged me to Minneapolis just for that football game.”

“Come on, Scully. Do you really think I’d make you pack a bag and hop on a plane last minute just to induce subterfuge onto you by misleading you into attending a scientific research conference in the great state of Washington? Not to be confused with our Washington?” “Yes, Mulder. That’s exactly what I think you’d do.” “I hear they have great apples here.”

“Mulder,” she was taking that tone with him again. The one that said she disapproved of his methods but secretly enjoyed the results.

“It will be fun, Scully. There’s a presentation on the true turn of the millennium that I think you’ll enjoy. It’s part of their mathematical theory track– you go to that one while I attend the talk on Fibonacci sequences evident in space.” “You’re not leaving me alone in there, Mulder.” “So you’ll go?”

“We’re already here,” she sighed, “I saw the sign when we passed by the space needle. We’re on Seventh and Pike, we might as well stop by before we head back to the airport.”

“Oh come, on, Scully. It’s a beautiful weekend, the sun’s supposed to be out– which is apparently rare as opposed to the usual overcast– and the flight home is six hours. Do you really want to spend all day in a cramped little airplane? Let’s stay and make a quick little vacation out of it.”

“Mulder,” There was that tone again. “You know that’s not my idea of a vacation.”

They drove under the arches of the convention center and into the parking garage.

“Please? I’ll book the hotel on my own personal dime, I’ll even make sure they have a nice soaker tub for you.” Scully eyed her partner from the passenger seat of their rented Ford Taurus. “You already booked the hotel didn’t you?”

They got out of the car and met at the trunk to lock up their F.B.I.-issued weapons and badges.

Mulder rolled his eyes coquettishly, he didn’t want to use his last bit of ammo unless he had to. It seemed like he had to. “I’m– I’m booked as a guest speaker on Sunday.” It was Friday morning. He rubbed the back of his neck and hung his head in shame. Albeit it was a boyish ‘I’m not sorry I manipulated you’ shame.

“Mulder!” Scully took on a defensive posture, hands on her hips and stopping her little feet.

“Scully! They reached out to me! How could I say no?”

“What on earth could you possibly be presenting on?”

“Our work, the X-Files, documented cases of inexplicable phenomenon acted out here in the states.”

“Mulder, our work is classified. You can’t share those documents.” “Not all of it, Scully. Plus I ran it by Skinner and he gave me the go-ahead to share certain details of certain cases.” “Skinner knew about this!? Mulder! I’m going to shoot you! Then him! And maybe you again!”

“Come on, Scully. It will be fun, I promise.” Mulder pulled on the blazer at her elbow, after all they’d been through, he wanted to see her let loose just once. The gunmen had related that time they’d tricked her to Vegas and he was sorely upset he missed out on those shenanigans.

“I swear, Mulder…” Scully left the threat empty as they made it to the entrance of the convention center.

She regretted giving in the second they walked through the door.

“Mulder, is that–?”

“Someone dressed in cosplay as Flukeman? Yeah, it appears so.”

They stood in silence as they watched a fairly accurate rendition of the sewer creature walk by and high-five a young teen dressed as what could only be assumed to be Mothman.

“Mulder.” Scully fumed.

“I know, I know. You’re going to shoot me. Good thing you didn’t pack that extra clip, I have a feeling you’re going to want it.” Mulder placed his hand on her back and pushed her through the main lobby. 

“How do they even know what the Flukeman looks like? Mulder, we never got photos.”

“There was a quite creative artist rendering in that year’s edition of The Informer– that’s probably also why that guy there looks just like–” “Eddie Van Blundht– Mulder,” Scully took that tone once again.

“Can we cool it with the death threats? The conference is three days Scully. Okay? I get it. You’ll kill me, this is unforgivable, I’ll never see the light of day again.”

They walked by a couple’s costume of Nessie; like the front and back halves of a Halloween store’s cow. She was speechless.

It was a good thing he was leading her through the throng of people because all she could do was stare at the crazy people in costumes and ufo-related paraphernalia, itching to backpedal and get out of there as fast as the laws of physics would allow. There were so many tin foil hats.

“Mulder! That bigfoot has breasts! Huge, massive, breasts!!”

“Yeah? So? And there’s the Jersey Devil. They look just like those drawings I showed you back in ‘93.”

“How– How do they know so much about our cases, Mulder?”

“Oh, I think Mr. George Hale Kaplan might have had a thing or two do to about it.”

Scully stopped him short, looking at him for what felt like the first time since they arrived in her own personal hell. “Are you saying you leaked our files online, Mulder?”

“Is it really leaking if you’re making a statement about the absurdity of the government’s control of information that the public needs to be aware of? You remember how Watergate turned out for Nixon. You know how much I support the Freedom of Information Act, Scully. This shouldn’t be news to you.”

“And here I thought your relationship with Karin Berquist was unethical.”

“Oh, that reminds me, they’re doing a tribute to her at the lycanthrope panel at 2 today. I want to stop by if we have time. Let’s get registered and scope out the booths before we get checked into our room upstairs.”

“Mulder, I’m–”

“Going to kill you,” they said in unison.

~

“Okay, I’ve got it all mapped out,” Vee addressed their huddled group just before the final event of the night. “They’re checked into room 402–”

“Both of them?” Jones clarified.

“Yes,” Vee confirmed before being interrupted by Daphne.

“See! I told you they were sleeping together!”

“Yeah, yeah, big deal.”

“Hey, good thing we’re booked for rooms 401 and 403. It’s like it’s fate or something.” Bert said spaced out from the doobie he and Nora had smoked earlier– for their anxiety.

“Totally, Bert. So I bribed the registration attendant and got a copy of their itinerary. We can go to all the same panels they do and gather some info before the big event on Sunday where we can ask our questions. We’ll take the next day to come up with what we want to ask then vet them tomorrow night to pick the best ones.”

“You’re so smart, Vee.” Nora looked at her friend dreamily, she was deliriously happy they all entered that fateful Skeptics and Believers forum chat all those years ago. Truly, the entire forum was dedicated to the work of those two F.B.I. agents. She remembered the turmoil and fear that permeated through the community when their office burned and the unit was shut down. It never made the news, but it was evident from the emotion in Luder’s depressed soliloquies posted on the S&B forum.

“I can’t wait to meet the enigmatic Doctor, Dana Scully,” Daphne gushed, “And Mulder sounds so dreamy from the way he writes his posts.”

“He seems like a big dork to me,” Jones said, “honestly her too. The way he describes her knowledge of certain topics… They both kind of seem a little freaky-deaky to me.” Jones didn’t get the attraction to the people that Daphne, Bert, and Nora seemed to bond over. Like Vee, he was more interested in the science and nature of it all.

“Yeah, but dorks are sexy as hell, Jonesy,” Daphne retorted,  “I mean, that’s why we’re all together, isn’t it?”

“Cool it, you two. We’re not here to fight about that right now. We can all agree, they’re both hot, but it’s their minds that we’re after right now.”

“You’re right, Vee. ‘Nothing happens in contradiction to nature, only in contradiction to what we know if it’” Nora was known to quote those two– how she got some of those quotes, they weren’t sure, but they assumed it had something to do with her Uncle that worked at F.B.I. headquarters with them.

“That– That’s not relevant, Nora.” Vee grabbed their friend’s hand, knowing she was still a little out of it.

“I know, I just think it’s a beautiful sentiment.” Nora smiled at her friend then snuggled up to Daphne’s side.

“I think they’re heading up to their room! Let’s go!” Jones jumped out of his seat and pulled Bert along with him.

The five of them raced up the stairs, hoping to see them depart from the elevator to their floor.

They made it just in time for the doors to open and for Scully to walk out talking to her partner.

“I can’t believe you made me sit through that entire presentation on Lightning Boy. Mulder, I was there.”

“Yeah, but wasn’t it interesting how they connected the effects of electrostatic energy to dark matter and spontaneous human combustion?”

“Mulder, you know very well there are so few documented cases of spontaneous human combustion.” “Yeah, Scully, I do know. You documented one of those cases.”

“Ugh, I wish I didn’t! I’m still doubting whether it was or not! There were plenty of avenues we left unexplored that could have very well explained what happened. And I still believe the case in Mississippi was due to weather. You know, actual, real, natural lighting.”

“Or, it was spontaneous human combustion caused by a drastic increase of electrostatic energy conducted through a person–”

“It’s entirely implausible that a man– a human man had the ability to snap fire from his fingertips, Mulder!”

The overheard conversation cut off as they walked through their room together. His hand was low on her back and the gang desperately wished they had the rooms next to the agents rather than across from them.

Inside the room, however, the conversation dwindled off as Scully pulled her travel silk pajama set from her bag.

“You’re bringing me coffee and continental breakfast in bed tomorrow, Mulder. And don’t wake me before seven.”

“Wanna curl up like little baby cats tonight?” Mulder asked as he stripped down to his boxers.

A pillow was thrown at him and a scowl graced his partner’s usually stoic features. She was so cute when she was angry.

“You’re lucky I’m letting you sleep in the bed at all, Mulder.”

“Come, on Scully. Let me make it up to you?”

“Oh, you have a Titan Krios hidden in your pants?”

“No, but I have something else you can put under your scope.”

Scully laughed, her anger not serious at being dragged unwillingly to what was practically a UFO convention.

“Mulder, I don’t need a microscope to see what’s in your pants.”

“No, thankfully macroscope will do.” Mulder crawled on the bed to his partner. This thing between them was new, the sexual part anyway. Sharing beds had become his best comfort, and sharing her bed had become his best pleasure.

~

“Why did you drag me down here, Mulder? Our first session doesn’t start for another 45 minutes and I was really enjoying the king-sized bed all to myself.” “There’s a meeting group I wanted to bring you to. Come on, it’s just down the hall here.” The sign outside the room said “Skeptics & Believers Online In-Person Meet-up”

Scully mocked the oxymoron in the ad.

“How is it both online and in-person? Why are we here?”

Mulder pushed her through the door encouragingly.

“The online forum is where I post some of our best work– under a pseudonym of course. This is the in-person meetup for those active in the forum, Scully. There’s no need to feign dense. I know how smart you are, and let me tell you. These people will appreciate it too.”

Mulder had scoped out the space before bringing up her breakfast that morning. With an orange juice in hand, he had chatted up QueenAnne1939 whose name was indeed not Anne at all but rather referenced the same British cruiseliner that Mulder was rescued from in 1998.

He had chatted up BigBadGoatSucker, TheGreatMutato42, VampireSherriff, and a few other users he was in contact with and promised he’d bring his partner down to meet a few of them.

To his surprise, everyone in the room had asked about her. He had no idea Dana Scully had such notoriety in a forum she had no idea even existed. Maybe he had gushed a little too much in his recounts of their kookiest cases. It seemed like they were a thousand times more interested in her than him, and it took a big hit to his ego. But no matter how he felt, he wanted Dana Scully to feel special. So he brought her into a room full of other Scully fanatics.

When Scully walked in, everyone began to whisper in hushed tones.

“Mulder?” Scully questioned her partner. “Why are they looking at me like I’m a little grey man?”

“Thank you for referring to the proper color of reptilian skin,” a person with a round face and glasses said as they approached the pair.

“Uh,” Scully stood at a loss for words.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Dr. Scully. I’m Carter Bowman, the creator of the online forum, Skeptics & Believers. I began the forum in 1993 with the goal of uniting scientists and phenomena trackers to discuss the implications of unnatural occurrences and their very plausible explanations. Many of our users rely heavily on the work of you and your partner on The X-Files and we commend your dedication to finding the truth behind the often inexplicable events. Your paper on hallucinogenic mushroom organisms and the powerful effects of psychedelics on the mind is laminated in my office at the NIH.”

“Um, thank you?” Scully hesitantly took the hand outstretched to her to shake. “I’m sorry,” she shook her head, “You work for the NIH?”

Carter nodded their head, “Yes, indeed, many of us here hold highly esteemed positions at prestigious universities and organizations. Kim over there heads the international health research division at the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation,” Carter pointed to a scruffy-looking woman in the corner of the room. “She’s speaking to Morgan, who’s come all the way from Wiltshire and works on the Stonehedge preservation project. There are a few professors in attendance from top universities in the U.S. as well as Canada. Honestly, we have quite the crowd here.”

“I can see that, I- I had no idea. I have no idea what to say. Ah, thank you.”

“It’s a lot to take in,” Mulder finally chimed in, “She’s new to the whole internet stardom thing. I’m sure she’ll return to her chatty self after the presentations today.”

“So we’ll see you at the mixer tonight, then? It’s at 9 in the bar across the street.”

“Oh we’ll be there,” Scully said, perked up at the thought of alcohol. She was going to need lots and lots of alcohol to forget all about this. And she might have a good opportunity to kill Mulder then too.

He escorted his stunned partner out of the room and onto their first presentation of the day.

Intersections of Necromancy and Religion; Examples of Raising the Dead in Connection to Various Sects of Faith – Special Showing of Clips from New Movie: "The Lazurus Bowl" Featuring Interviews with the Director and Cast!

Yeah, lots and lots and lots of alcohol.

tagging @waiting-for-the-day since the idea came from my tags on their anon answer & @today-in-fic

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Catching On

The fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing ... Potential ... The Newbies ... The Dessert ... Dinosaurs and Cannibalism ... Sassy Sprinklepants ... The Secret Vault of Mudlerness ... Taco Night ... Neckhole Wrestling ... The Onesie ... Multiplication

To catch up: First series … Second series ...  Third series

@today-in-fic

just sayin’, there’s some of the sex ...

&&&&&&&&&&

This time, she was the one offering the multiple ‘holy shit’s’ in the living room.

“Holy Shit, Mulder.”

He shook his head at her, still stunned, “yeah, that’s what keeps running through my head as well.” Dropping back into the couch cushions, Will settled quietly on his lap, baby feet tapping a sporadic rhythm on Mulder’s belly, “she was an odd duck but not in a Layla odd way or a Dogget odd way. We talked for several hours and she believes everything I do and then some. I mean,” picking up Will and planting a kiss on his nose, received a giggle and a kiss right back, much stickier given the applesauce he had been eating when Mulder arrived home, “it’s like if you took all my ghosts, goblins, demons, and darkness and smashed them together with your ‘God does weird shit, don’t mess with him’ beliefs.” Wiping off the sticky kiss, “essentially, Monica Reyes is our fully formed love child.”

“That’s disturbing.”

Mulder’s hands went up, then moved to grip his head, fingers tugging at his hair, “I know! If she were to actually get this to work, she’d need somebody more disbelieving, yet easygoing, than Doggett to keep her in check. I mean … God …” he let his smile curve half his face, “it’s finally catching on.”

Scully couldn’t smile back at the moment, “you want to go with her, don’t you?”

He gave her a look that would be comical in any other circumstance, “what? No.” Comical moved to concrete, “I’ve got you and the youngling and two more beans on the way.” He raised a well-learned imitation Scully eyebrow at her, “now, if for some reason, I hadn’t managed to get you to fall in love with me and reproduce, I would think that you would be a pretty good fit to work with her at first. You’d be able to argue her religious leanings even though you believe them.”

“Are you saying that, if I hadn’t finally allowed you the pleasure of seeing me naked and doing the reproducing, you would have shipped me to southern Louisiana without a second thought?”

Standing, he retrieved a bag of M&Ms from the cupboard, handing them to her, red mixed with all the other colors, “do we need to review the contents of this bag and their meaning, young lady?”

By now, she was grinning, Will safely resting against her hip, “maybe later, once the kid is sound asleep.”

Mulder kissed her, first on the forehead, then, because he was totally allowed without getting smacked, on her mouth, “I am not going anywhere. You are not going anywhere. But I can’t guarantee things aren’t going to get a little weird here for awhile if I need to go for a week or so, just to see what she has down there.” Kissing her again, “maybe I’ll even bring you with me. Leave Will in the charge of his Gunmen uncles. Eat beignets naked in the jacuzzi, lick excess powdered sugar off your thighs, wander a little around the city without crutches and stitches and concussions, oh my.”

Shifting Will a little, she leaned up, kissing the dent in his chin, “when do we leave?”

“No comments on the Gunmen uncles?”

“Not right now. I will probably have some later but right now, I’m thinking I’d like to take your pants off.”

“Always my pants with you.”

&&&&&&&&&

Two a.m. and both were awake, room dark, mattress soft, voices low, “if this works, Scully … if she finds a partner and solves some things, and honestly, doesn’t get killed in the process, this will be phenomenal.”

“I know it will but it’s going to take awhile. She’s going to need someone she trusts who can do the medical side of all this, and she’s going to have to find them on her own.”

“You were assigned to me.”

“Yeah, and remember how much fun that was at the beginning. It took a few years for you to trust me.”

“Naw, I trusted you from the beginning.”

Poking him in the side, she moved to run her fingers lightly over his ribs, enjoying the hot skin under her hand, “you tolerated me from the beginning. You thought I was ‘hot’ from the beginning. You wanted me naked from the beginning. You didn’t trust me from the beginning.”

Mulder rolled to his side, his own hand gliding over her ribs and down over her bare ass, “you let me see you naked from the beginning so that one doesn’t count against me.”

“Half-naked.”

“Not in my mind.”

Scooting herself up against him, she closed her eyes, deep breath in signaling sleep not far away, “your version, my version, and, if you don’t mind, I’d like to not be talking about Monica Reyes while legitimately naked this time.”

He wiggled himself down until he could get her nipple into his mouth, hand still firmly on her ass, debating a finger slide in, “have I ever told you what I thought about doing after you barged into my room in that cute little bra?”

“Is it anything like what you’re thinking about doing now?”

“Not quite. Had I been debating fingering your ass like I am now,” finger indeed toying and dipping, “I would have definitely kicked you out of the room and gotten off in like a minute and a half.”

Scully was quite awake again and hips moving unconsciously, “then what were you thinking?”

“That there was a possibility, that if I could just get you to believe me, just once …” finger diving deeper, slipping easier, “then maybe I could get up enough courage to ask you out on a date.”

Her own hand maneuvered to her clit, just as wet as the rest of her, “there would have been a distinct possibility that if you had told me how good you were with your hands, I’d have said ‘yes’ even if I didn’t believe you.”

Mulder rolled her over, finger never wavering, until she was on her back and he had easier access. Shifting to his knees, he crouched over her, watching her, adoring her, “can you come?”

Hips bucking up, “are you kidding?”

With a laugh, he moved as deep as possible, her muscles spasming moments later around him, choking the blood flow to his finger for a few seconds until everything relaxed, the sheen of sweat on her forehead and chest making him grin, “good round one?”

Pretense gone, “go wash your hand.”

He did not argue.

By three, Mulder was pulling out of her, twice for him, three for her, towel underneath them soaked, her hair a damp, fluffy mass, his arm muscles shaking, bite marks to his collar bone stinging, bruises to her hips darkening from his iron grip as he pounded into her with enough force to knock the headboard against the wall.

“How did we not wake up small fry?”

Heart finally slowing, “no idea but don’t question it.” Getting her rolling eyeballs under control, “thank you.”

Collapsing beside her, “are you kidding? We left a dent in the wall. Thank you.”

“Do you think we made the twins seasick?”

Mulder laughed, “at least they won’t remember it.”

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Chapter 9

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

He meets her in the hallway just outside the autopsy bay. She’s changed from scrubs into jeans and a green t-shirt with cap sleeves and his heart leaps when she enters his line of sight. He stands up a bit straighter, buoyed by her presence. He wants to hug her, but he stuffs his hands in his pockets instead. Off limits, he keeps reminding himself. Unavailable.

“Hi,” she says with a nervous little smile.

“Hey,” he responds with a broad grin. “Shall we?” he says as he tilts his head toward the exit.

It’s a wonderfully mild day and they walk the four blocks to Cafe Adamo, the orange Tooms file tucked neatly under his arm. They are mostly quiet as they walk, enjoying the warm breeze and lack of traffic noise. Scully lifts her hand to hoist her purse strap up on her shoulder and his stomach lurches when the sun catches on a large diamond ring on her finger. The ring finger of her left hand. It shouldn’t matter, unavailable is unavailable, but knowing that she’s getting married takes his already dashed dreams and stomps them into dust.

They sit at the same corner table they had on their previous visit and this time she orders an iced coffee, much to his relief; he’s not sure he can sit still through more foam-licking. He orders a drip, and as soon as their waiter leaves the table he has to say something.

“Looks like congratulations are in order,” he says, gesturing towards her hand with his chin.

She looks down at the table and startles a little, as if she herself hadn’t known the ring was there.

“Oh, yeah, um, thank you,” she replies tersely, avoiding his eye.

“When did that happen?” he inquires, morbidly curious.

“Uh, in late June, the twenty-first.”

His eyebrows lift a little. He’s sure she wasn’t wearing a ring the other times he’s seen her.

“That’s, uh, that’s great. Do you have a date set?” Why the fuck is he asking her about this? Right, because that’s what a friend would do.

“Yes, as of recently, it’s October thirteenth, this year.”

He chuffs a laugh, his head dropping close to the table.

“What?” she asks, her eyebrows knit in confusion.

He lifts his head to look at her with an ironic smile. “That’s my birthday,” he says flatly, and pink immediately rises to her cheeks.

“Oh,” she says as though she’s committed an embarrassing faux pas.

“Here, check this out,” he says, changing the subject and sliding the orange file across the table to her. “Eugene Victor Tooms, a seemingly typical, if not a little strange, man who was in fact a liver-eating mutant. He would eat his victim’s liver to sustain his own life, and then build a nest from newspaper and bile where he would hibernate for thirty years before repeating the pattern.”

“Bile? As in stomach acid?” Scully says with a doubtful tone that matches her expression.

“Yes ma’am, I had the unfortunate experience of coming into close contact with it and I can attest to its authenticity.”

“Mulder, humans don’t hibernate, much less for thirty years.”

“Well, Eugene Victor Tooms was hardly human, Scully. At one-hundred-twenty-one years young, he was on a steady diet of three livers per hibernation break.”

Their coffees are dropped off, but the conversation continues despite the interruption.

“The oldest human who’s ever lived is one-hundred-nineteen years old. On top of that, even if someone were to live to be one-hundred-twenty-one they certainly wouldn’t be healthy or fit enough to murder people and eat their livers, then have enough energy left over to build a bile-nest.” She’s animated, her hands punctuating her statements as her face quirks into an ‘I can't even believe I’m even having this conversation’ expression, and he can’t help but smile.

“Okay, if you don’t agree with my conclusions, Scully, then tell me what you think happened,” he says gently.

She pulls in a deep breath and lets it out in a huff, her shoulders deflating. “I don’t know, Mulder. I’d need access to the biological materials, to analyze them in a lab. We’d need to do a full physical work up on Mr. Tooms, genetic testing.”

Mulder bobs his head. “Well, that will prove difficult seeing as Mr. Tooms met his end under the teeth of an escalator,” he replies, and her eyes go big for a moment.

She shakes her head, closing the folder and sliding it back across the table towards him. “Didn’t it bother you, to work all these cases and never have any real answers?” she asks.

Mulder shrugs. “Yes and no. For me, it isn’t as much about the answers themselves as it is the journey towards the one great truth. Doors are opened along the way, avenues cleared, and it all lends itself towards moving me further along on my quest.”

She’s looking at him with soft, affectionate eyes. She’s really listening and it feels so fucking good. It’s not very often that anyone really listens when he talks. Really hears him.

“What do you consider to be your quest?” she asks gently.

“If I were really to narrow it down, to find my sister. Or to understand what happened to her.” His hand is sitting on top of the closed file and he startles a little when she reaches out and rests her palm against his knuckles. She gives him a sympathetic smile and then pulls it back, sitting up a bit straighter in her seat and busying herself stirring her coffee with a straw.

“Priscilla misses you,” he says, changing the subject again, and her delighted smile makes his heart swell.

“How can you possibly know that?” she replies skeptically, even though it’s clear that she wants it to be true.

“You think I can’t communicate with my cat?” he asks in mock offense, “what kind of roommate would I be if I didn’t learn to speak her language?”

Scully shakes her head, the smile still playing on her lips. “So how’d you end up being the one to keep her, anyway?” she asks, “she’s such a sweet cat, I’m surprised your ex was willing to part with her.”

Mulder takes a sip of his coffee before continuing. “At the time that Valerie, that’s my ex, moved out, she was planning to spend some time bumming around Europe so she really couldn't take Priscilla. I think by the time she got back, she felt too guilty about taking her away so she just let me keep her. Prissy always preferred me anyway, so I think she was satisfied with the custody arrangement.”

“So, you’re still in touch with her, then? Your ex?” She’s not making eye contact, trying to act casual, but he can tell she’s curious to know if they’re still involved. He’s curious to know why she cares.

“Oh, yeah, we’re on good terms, always have been. We don’t spend a ton of time together, but I would still consider her a close friend,” he answers honestly.

Scully frowns a little. “Then why did you break up, if you get along so well?”

Mulder sits back in his chair, considering the question for a moment. “I guess there just wasn’t a spark, you know. We looked great on paper, very compatible technically speaking. She was my best friend, a great partner. There was just something missing, for both of us. I loved her, still love her, but not in that way that makes you go ‘shit, I could spend the rest of my life waking up next to this person.’ And we both wanted that, and thought maybe we could have it with someone else, so we broke up.” He leans forward again, elbows on the table top, and takes in her stoic expression.

After a moment of contemplation, she speaks. “How would you know, if you had ‘the spark’ as you call it? What does that even mean?” There’s a mild defensiveness to her tone and it confuses him.

“I think...I think you just know,” he says, meeting her eye. She swallows and then drops her gaze, picking up her cup and sucking noisily at the last drops of coffee that cling to the ice.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

2 In the Hen House

Fox Mulder x Reader

Words: 1663

Part 2 of 3

Part One

Summary: When a serial killer that Mulder helped put away escapes the institution, he decides to pay a visit to his favorite FBI behavioral analyst. You educate yourself on all the disturbing facts of the case. When the killer begins to take an interest in Mulder’s pretty little partner, you become more entangled than you could have imagined. 

Notes: I’m really excited for the darkness of this series, but writing sad Mulder is honestly also really fun. Sorry. Same warnings as the first part. Also, don’t panic if you don’t see X-Files on my masterlist along with a few other imagines. I’m putting together a 80s/90s masterlist and that’s where they are all going. Let me know what you think as always!

-

Mulder got to your apartment before the police did. You were sitting on the ground around the corner, knees pulled up to your chest. 

“Y/N!” He shouted, sprinting up the stairs two at a time. When he found you, your eyes were red and your lip trembled as you spoke. 

“I-It’s on m-my door.” You stammered. He peeked around the corner at the butchered animal. 

“Sange.” He muttered angrily before taking you up in his arms. “He’s just trying to scare you to get to me.” He kept his hand on the back of your head, running his fingers soothingly through your hair. 

“How does he even know where to find me?” You asked, breaking away to look at him, trying to compose yourself. You were trained to deal with this kind of thing. 

“He does his homework.” Mulder sighed. You could hear the sounds of the police storming up the stairs. Mulder locked his fingers through yours and you felt yourself leaning against him, supporting your weight when your legs still wanted to buckle. 

This psychopath knew who you were. He knew where you lived. And he was coming after Mulder. 

“Now what?” You asked, finding your balance again and stepping back to look at your door. Mulder put a hand on your cheek, taking your eyes away from the bloody animal. 

“I think you should step away from the case.” He knew that you would object so he kept going before you could interrupt. “And obviously you can’t stay at your apartment. I don’t think mine would be much safer. Maybe you could stay with Scully.” 

“No, Mulder, I want to be with you.” You tugged on his shirt. “I don’t think you should be alone either. It’s you he’s really after.” He opened his mouth to argue, but you stopped him like he had you. “And don’t say you can handle this, because you can’t. Not alone.” 

The police finally arrived and asked you questions you could barely hear. You just kept staring at the fox. You told him as many details as you could, but this was still an FBI investigation and was therefore out of the officer’s hands. Mulder was talking to Scully who had just finished up doing the autopsies of both guards.

“How is she?” She looked over at your calm expression as you spoke with the police officer, but she could see the fear in your eyes. 

“She’s undeterred.” Mulder sighed. “I told her to take a step back from the case, but we both know that’s not going to happen.” 

“I could say the same thing about you.” Scully pointed out. “He did tie a mutilated fox to her door.” 

“He made it pretty clear that I’m already a target. Now she’s one too.” He looked over to you with worried eyes and Scully put a hand on his arm. 

“This isn’t your fault, Mulder.” Her tone was almost disbelieving. Mulder was always so sure of his actions. It was rare to see him scared. He turned back to her grave gaze and shrugged her hand away. 

“I better get some of her things.” 

-

Neither of you said much on the ride over to his apartment. You could tell how much this was eating at him, but you were afraid your voice would give away your fear. When he parked, his hand still on the gear shift, his eyes shifted nervously to the building. You put your hand on top of his. 

“Mulder…” You took a deep breath. “I may not know exactly what’s going on in that head of yours, but I know that you’re blaming yourself for all of this.” You moved your hand to rest on his cheek. “You have to know that it isn’t. This is just the work of a psychopath who managed to escape. Without you, they wouldn’t have caught him to begin with. You saved god knows how many people from becoming future victims.” 

“But now he’s out and he’s added you to the list.” Mulder argued. His green blue eyes determinedly looked anywhere but you, as if staring out at the street would conjure Sange. You turned his face towards you and kissed him. Fox was hesitant at first, wanting to keep his guard up, but he melted everytime you pressed your lips to his. You pulled back, happy to see that his eyes were focused on you alone. 

“Fox, I-” A loud crash from outside the car put both of you on edge again. You both grabbed your weapons and stepped out of the car, nerves on high alert. 

“Y/N, go up to my apartment and lock the door.” Mulder instructed. “Don’t let anyone in unless it's me.” You nodded and quickly went inside, looking back to see him disappear around a corner into an alleyway. 

Mulder kept his gun out in front of him, cautiously walking down the alley to follow the sound of the crash. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, his heart racing with anticipation as the moving form became more visible. He lowered his weapon as a stray cat emerged from the trash can it had knocked over. He shooed it away, irritated with his own paranoia. He wouldn’t be able to sleep until Sange was behind bars or in the ground. 

Walking up the steps to his apartment, his feet felt heavier. As if his body could sense something his brain couldn’t. He started to unlock his door when he saw the piece of paper taped just above the apartment number. It’s writing was unnervingly perfect, every curve and line as if a machine had written in. 

You didn’t think you were the only fox in the hen house, did you?

He threw the door open and sprinted inside. 

“Y/N!” He shouted his eyes scanning his rooms wildly. “Y/N!” It didn’t matter how many times he called out. You were gone. 

-

Your head throbbed as you opened your eyes, dried blood covering your ear from where Sange had hit you. Sange. You used any strength you could muster to stand, though the room you were in was only big enough for you to crouch. It looked like you were inside of a wall. There was a scraping sound and a brick pulled away, revealing a pair of beady black eyes. For a moment, you could have sworn you saw them turn red. 

“Hello little chickadee.” He drawled. You shuttered as his eyes scanned over you, licking his lips. 

“Stay the hell away from me.” You spat, pressing yourself against the back wall. 

“Frightened little thing.” He ran his finger back and forth across the bricks. You took a deep breath and stood taller. 

“I am not scared of you.” You’d been dealing psychos like him your whole career. You’d seen things you could never explain and you had faced conspiracies that threatened the whole of the human race. He clicked his tongue. 

“I appreciate your spirit. It makes things more interesting.” He walked around the room on the other side of the wall and you could hear a shuffle of metallic clicks. You slowly crept closing to the opening, peaking out into the other room. He was cleaning a collection of rifles, all sitting neatly on a table. “I know you’ve been reading your Mulder’s files on me. What conclusions have you drawn?” 

“The same as everyone. You’re a cannibalistic psychopath. A Gentleman's Hannibal.” 

“Why do you think the papers gave me that name?” 

“I didn’t think to look.” You spat. He was toying with you. He looked up at you with a smirk. 

“It’s because I treat my kills like a fox hunt. You know, when men of high society would gather on horseback, unleash the dogs, and track the animal.” He aimed a rifle at you and you stumbled backwards. He chuckled. “You, my dear, are the fox. And so were all the others. I used to have a large property with acres upon acres of forest. It was beautiful.” His voice trailed off.

“I heard it was turned into a strip mall.” You snarked. He banged his hand against the wall, making you jump.

“Thanks to Agent Mulder, we’ll have to make other plans.” He shoved the brick back into place, leaving you in the dark.

-

Mulder was rifling through file after file hoping- praying- that something would give him a clue as to where Sange had taken you. Properties that he still owned, people he was close to, any abandoned buildings in the area. Nothing. 

“Damn it!” He screamed, knocking every paper off of his desk. Scully hesitated to knock, but figured it was better than just leaving him alone. 

“Mulder?” She knocked on the door and waited for a response. 

“Come in.” His voice was small. Defeated. He was kneeling down, gathering the papers back up. He couldn’t bring himself to look up.  “He took her.” 

“I know.” Scully sighed. She held an envelope in her hands. Maybe this wasn’t a good time. She had made sure no one else had seen it, but she didn’t even know if it was from Sange. It was just left at her apartment. No name. No address. Nothing. 

“What is it?” Mulder asked, finally looking at her. His face was stained with tears. He was really scared of this guy. She showed him the envelope. 

“I went home to clear my head and I found this tucked under my door.” She explained. “I don’t know if it’s from-” Mulder tore it from her hands and ripped it open. Inside, was a small note and something else. 

“Release the hounds, Agent Scully.” He read, the words burning into his brain. He threw the note onto his desk. “The hunt has begun.” 

“What else is in the envelope?” She asked, but she immediately wished she hadn’t. She felt sick as Mulder dumped the contents into his hand. A bloody, matted chunk of Y/N’s hair.

[masterthespianduchovny]

I may have made a post about this before, but I truly struggle with Scully/Other stories, which is why I tend to stay away from them.

I always have to spoil myself because usually it follows the logic that Mulder should be lucky Scully choose him in the end. Which, to be honest, is viewer logic and not Scully logic.

Typically these S/O have Scully "empower" herself and "take back her life." She sees how much she gave up and Mulder needs to earn her or not fuck up and risk losing her.

And it's like...Scully wouldn't view any potential relationship with Mulder that way, IMO, even if she broke up with someone to be with Mulder. Her relationship and feelings for Mulder are so special and sacred to her. Scully knows he messes up and can be an ass at times, but his heart is there.

Although Scully can stand her ground with Mulder, when it comes to her feelings she'd definitely be vulnerable no matter how much she improved her life. Being with Mulder is a big step and I can't imagine her viewing him like that: Don't fuck up, Mulder, or I'll leave you in a second flat.

She'd definitely have her boundaries and express her expectations with Mulder, however, this "you better be lucky I chose you, Mulder" Scully that many writers have Scully believe, totally takes me out of the story.

It also doesn't mean I want to read about Scully dating assholes either. I guess some people in the fandom want to prove that Scully can have it all and the perfect guy, so her being with Mulder is a choice and not her only option. But it gives, "I can do better, but I choose you, Mulder; be lucky I didn't stay with the other guy."

I like my Scully's conflicted not because she has the perfect guy, but because as much as she enjoys this man, there is something about Mulder she can't shake. Something about Mulder that she has to see through. I like her considering staying because she's scared of what her and Mulder can be.

Sure there are other interpretations of Scully and I'm not saying my opinion is the right opinion, I'm just always miffed when I read "Mulder better be lucky" interpretations, especially because that's not the Scully we saw.

This is where Scully taking back control of her life comes in, however, Scully taking back control of her life would also likely be her being forward and honest with Mulder about her feelings. Nervously telling Mulder how she feels and saying, "Well...I believe you feel the same. I want to be with you, Mulder. I think we've waited long enough."

Scully doesn't have to say to Mulder she could be happy with another man because it's unnecessary and Mulder likely already believes that. This is not about what she left behind or hypotheticals with other men, this moment, her revealing her feelings to Mulder, is about what they can have and finally putting their cards on the table.

I know people want Scully to have an option (all while loathing the same for Mulder, which is honestly weird because he's more isolated than her), but I don't mind it because Scully didn't want options, she wanted Mulder. However, I don't think she pined over Mulder, I believe Scully was in a place where she wasn't interested in actively dating and she didn't understand the full scope and complexities of her feelings for Mulder. Their relationship was intense, confusing, and unconventional. It takes time and perspective to understand those types of relationships.

We see Scully put her career and Mulder first when she declines another date with Rob to go listen to a professor talk about paranormal shit on her off time. Scully dated, but she wanted to be challenged by her career, which top priority. At the same time, she was so intrigued by Mulder, she allowed him to seep into the crevices of her personal life and career ambitions. She wanted him to trust and invest in her and exposed herself to him, which in turn made them become entangled and lost in each other.

Scully finding out she had cancer understandably sent in her in a tailspin. Mulder had consumed so much of her life, personal and professional, that he cannot differentiate where his ends and hers begins. This is when Scully becomes annoyed and uncomfortable about the lack of concrete boundaries. How dare he make assumptions on her life? But most importantly, she starts thinking about her legacy and the mark she left not on the world, but in Mulder's life. He says she's important to him, but she doesn't even have a desk. He bosses her around (their power dynamic is more complicated than that because they operate as partners and implicitly hand over the reigns when necessary).

She got too comfortable and let her guard down and needs to rebel to assert her power. Mulder instantly went from the bad boy to an authority/father figure when Scully realized how smart, capable, and sane he was. She placed a title on him that he didn't ask for, which is why he's confused by her rebellion. This isn't to argue that Scully was wrong, it's to say Scully projected things on Mulder than he never saw himself as and largely didn't treat her the way she viewed.

So she rebels with Ed. She likes doing something out of character and not expected. Scully is doing what she wants and not what's expected. What's fascinating to me are the people who believed that Ed deserved a second chance. Scully and Ed had no real shot of ever being more than that one night. For starters, Scully was rebelling and Ed was the right person to act out with. When Scully centered herself again, even if Ed hadn't attacked her, she would've ended things and that's assuming she allowed the encounter to be more than her Philadelphia trip. They were doomed from the beginning because Scully wasn't herself and she needed an outlet. His temperament, pre poison, wasn't compatible with her normal temperament.

After Scully reveals her cancer diagnosis to Mulder, things return back to normal. She's accepted that she has cancer and wants things to go back to normal. That's how she can control her fate even though she isn't long for the world.

Scully's journey after cancer is first accepting her life as is, and then understanding this was where she was meant to be. She was happy, but caught up in "what ifs." She was concerned about why she didn't want the life other women her age wanted and had. Like, yeah, she wanted kids, but she had no desire for a stereotypical life.

I'm not against Scully having (female) friends, however many fanfic writers try to have her have a roaring social life when they go down the "taking back control over my life" narrative. Some people have very full lives with one or two friends and being homebodies. With the life Scully lived, I can imagine her being content being in the house and occasionally socializing with the outside world

As I've said months ago, Scully asking Mulder to get out of the car wasn't abut wanting a normal life, but wanting moments of normalcy with Mulder. She's asking a man obsessed with work to slow down and enjoy life, but really, she's unknowingly asking him to slow down and enjoy life with her. Because why is she in the car on her off day? She could be doing anything else. Mulder didn't make her get in the car.

Just like in HTGSC, why did she show up to a haunted house on Christmas Eve? Admittedly, Mulder did steal her keys, but the point is: she showed up. Then later admitted that she was there because she wanted to be there.

Scully lived a life that it's hard to regularly hang out with people who don't "get it."

Again, I'm all for Scully having friends and I even don't have an issue with reading S/O to MSR, but some people's interpretations just don't gel with how I see Scully and how she navigates the world.

[my-proof-is-you]

Con - Part 3

Summary: You’d been on the run most of your life--running from your memories, a past you didn’t want to remember, and your own loneliness. You did what you had to do to get by. 

You know what they say, though: you can’t con a con man.

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Warnings: flirting, canon-typical violence, swearing, fluff, eventual smut

A/N: I’m bringing it out of hiatus! I hope you all enjoy :)

*I do not own any pics or gifs

Masterlist | Tag Yourself!

You couldn’t believe you’d had phone sex with a complete stranger. 

There was just something about him, though. 

Dean. 

His name gave you goosebumps as you remembered his gravelly voice from the night before. 

You wished for the tenth time that you’d actually been able to spend a night with him in person. Instead, you picked up your phone, eager to keep some kind of connection with the mystery man. 

Y: Thank you for last night. 

D: Anytime, sweetheart. 

Y: So, where do you and your handsome partner find yourselves on this lovely day?

D: In Tucson on another hunt. 

Y: What, you get paid the big bucks for some deer meat there or something? 

D: Actually it’s...never mind. 

Y: What?!

D: Seriously, you’d think I’m crazy

Y: Psh, what’s an embarrassing admission between strangers?

D: Fine. My brother and I hunt...monsters. 

You stared at your screen. The musky motel around you faded as your eyes zeroed in on his words. 

Monsters. 

You didn’t respond, still too shocked to form a coherent thought. 

D: See? I knew you’d think I’m crazy. 

You snapped back into focus, reading his message when your phone vibration brought your attention back. 

Y: You’re just fucking with me, right?

D: If only, sweetheart. 

You sat for a moment again, memories of your nightmare from the night before flooding your mind. 

D: I’ll understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore. But trust me, monsters are real. And they’re out there. 

You couldn’t believe you were about to confide your biggest secret to a stranger. The secret that you thought made you an insane person. The secret you’d never told anyone for fear of being institutionalized. 

Y: No, I don’t think you’re crazy or anything I just…

D: ...yes?

You took a deep breath before sending your next message. You were afraid that if you saw your words staring back at you, you’d actually lose it. You’d know you were insane. 

Y: I think a monster is what killed my family. 

Your phone rang shrilly in your hand and you weren’t sure if you wanted to pick it up. Maybe Dean was just a psycho. Maybe he would just feed into your stress-induced vision of a monster killing your parents and sister. A vision you’d long since come to accept as your own mind playing tricks on you.

You picked up the phone, though. What did you have to lose at this point?

You didn’t utter a greeting, just held your breath until his low voice met your ears. 

“What happened to your family, Y/N?”

“Th-They...they…”

“What?” he asked, almost whispering.

“There was so much blood,” you said, your hands shaking. “I didn’t know what was happening--all I could see was red…”

“Y/N, where are you?” he asked.

“I’m in Albuquerque,” you whispered, your mind still reeling.

“Okay. Just...just stay put, okay? Sam and I can be there in six hours. We can talk about this in person.”

You nodded, even though you knew he couldn’t see you. “Thank you,” you breathed.

“See you soon, sweetheart,” he said, hanging up. 

That afternoon, you sat gripping a rapidly-cooling cup of coffee in a greasy-smelling diner. Your mind had been blank since you hung up with Dean the first time. The only coherent thought you’d had was to tell him where to meet you when he and his brother got closer to Albuquerque. 

Reliving the worst night of your life had sucked the energy out of you. The stale cup of caffeine in front of you did little to your energy levels. You stared into the light brown liquid, not really seeing anything.

Dean’s voice made you jump, and you realized he and his brother had slid into the booth across from you without you even noticing. 

“Hey there, Y/E/C eyes,” he said. God, you loved his voice.

“FBI,” you returned with a half-smile. “And this must be your partner-in-crime, Agent Mulder,” you said, gesturing to his brother. 

Dean looked offended. “That would make me Scully. I’m not a chick! Besides, he’s the one with long hair!”

His brother rolled his eyes, extending his hand. You took it, noticing how truly large it was. “Sam,” he said with a smile. 

“Y/N. I don’t know if he told you, but I robbed Scully here the first night we met. Sorry,” you said with a shrug. 

He smiled. “Not like we came by it honestly anyway.”

You liked Sam already. He was easy to talk to, and he seemed really genuine. 

The touch of calloused fingers against your hand brought your attention back to Dean. He looked at you earnestly, clearly ready to get down to business.

You sighed. “Dean...I don’t even know where to start,” you said. 

“Just tell us what you remember,” he said, stroking his thumb along your knuckle. His green eyes made you melt a little and you nodded.

“I was fifteen,” you began. Your mind’s eye traveled back to that night. You could remember the house you grew up in with vivid detail; every room, every corner, every piece of furniture was burned into your brain. 

The memories were tainted, though. Perfect white doilies your mom had made flecked with blood; your sister’s lifeless eyes, staring at you from the hardwood floor of the room you shared; your dad’s favorite chair where he then sat ripped to shreds.

“I didn’t even know what was happening. It was like I was in some sort of shock. I heard my parents scream from the living room. My older sister told me to hide. We had an extra little space in the back of our closet that was small enough to crawl into. She made me go in and close the door. I kept it cracked, though. She hid in the main part of the closet and it found her.”

The men watched you recount your story, neither saying anything. They listened intently, though, and it gave you the strength to go on knowing that they didn’t think you were insane. 

“I saw it grab her through the crack. I’ll never forget her scream. The thought of it still sends shivers down my spine.” You felt the goosebumps raise on your arms like they always did when you thought about that horrible scream. 

“I watched from that spot, unable to move. I was so scared. Everything in me told me to go and help her, but I couldn’t. I could barely breathe, I was so scared. After about an hour, when I knew it was gone, I finally crawled out of there.”

“They were all dead. They had been ripped apart...their hearts were gone...and I was alone.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Sam said, reaching across the table to lay a comforting hand on your arm. You hadn’t realized that tears were streaming down your face until that moment. You had never told anyone what happened to your family—never even said the words out loud. 

“Y/N, you said you saw it a little through the crack in the door...do you remember anything about what it physically looked like?” Dean asked. 

You wiped your face with the backs of your hands and let your memory conjure up one of the scariest things you’d ever seen. 

“It was a man, but with really scary features. His eyes were yellow, like an animal. He had fangs and long claws.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other silently and nodded. Your eyes danced between them, unsure of what they were thinking.

“What? Do you know what it was?” you asked, genuinely excited for the first time in a long time.

“Yes,” Sam said, his eyes serious. 

“Well?” you asked, becoming impatient. 

“It was a werewolf,” Dean stated. 

You let that sink in for a moment, your mind replaying the word, “werewolf” over and over. 

Then, you burst into an all-consuming laughter.

Forevers:

@malfoysqueen14​ @divadinag​ @lynne1993​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @infj-slytherclaw​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @sammykb1994​ @lilulo-12​ @mellorine-paprika​ @tranquility-or-chaos​ @collette04​ @differentstudentrunaway-e70bf763 @hoboal87​ @bi-danvers0​ @miraclesoflove​ @defenderrosetyler​ @babypink224221​ @fabfan00 @calaofnoldor​ @beatifuldisaster018​ @olyamoriarty @satans-0-spawn​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @supernatural3002​ @lainxcas​ @mylovelydame21​ @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester​

Deanies/Jensen:

@tftumblin​ @deans-baby-momma​ @akshi8278​ @weepingwillowphoenix​ @playingdeep17​ @justanotherwinchester​ @flamencodiva​ @caligraphee​ @emma.penberthy.11 @jxackles​ @kalesrebellion @heavensangel45135​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @miufel​ @squirrelnotsam​

[mldrgrl]

The First New Year

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG Summary: @kateyes224 wanted an early season New Year’s Eve fic.  And you can’t get earlier than post-The Pilot.

If she hadn’t promised she would show up, she would have just stayed home.  Parties in general were never her thing and New Year’s Eve was the worst of them.  Inevitably, revelry would be taken too far and she wasn’t looking forward to a house full of inebriated strangers.  She had promised though, and so she would have to endure or break her word.

Knocking was useless and even the doorbell couldn’t be heard over the music and laughter from inside the house.  Cautiously, Scully opened the unlocked door to Ellen’s foyer and squeezed past a cluster of men sipping alcohol from plastic cups and arguing about upcoming Superbowl playoffs.  She snaked her way down the hall, past flanks of people; men in sweater vests and party hats, women in tight dresses and tiaras announcing HAPPY NEW YEAR and 1993 in glitter and gold.  She adjusted the folds of her trench coat a little tighter, feeling more out of place in her black turtleneck and wool trousers than when she first walked in.

Hoping to find Ellen, the kitchen was the first place she checked.  All she found there was more people, cases of wine and beer, and trays of assorted hors d'oeuvres that could feed an army.  Apparently all of Cathedral Heights was invited to tonight’s party.

Scully located Gene, Ellen’s husband, before she found Ellen.  He was holding court by the fireplace and lifted a glass in her direction when he saw her and waved her over.  Even though Gene was her best friend’s husband, she wasn’t exactly well-acquainted with him.  He was a corporate attorney, dedicated to his career and had little free time.  He made Ellen happy though, and that was all that mattered.

“Dana,” he said, drawing her in and kissing her lightly on the cheek.  “Good to see you.  This is Steve Wentworth and Tripp Lightfoot.  Steve just made partner this year.”

“Congratulations,” she said, forcing a smile.

“But, you haven’t even taken your coat off yet.”

“I just got here.”

“Dana and Ellen go back to Annapolis,” he explained.  “Isn’t that right?  You grew up on the same base?  Their father’s were Navy.”

“That’s right.”  She nodded in agreement and searched the room.  

“My Grandad went to West Point,” Tripp or Steve said.  She wasn’t sure which was which.

“Sorry, I just need to use the ladies room and then...”

“Past the kitchen.”

“Yes.”  She forced another smile and drifted away.  

Finally, she located Ellen at the back of the house in the enclosed porch at the back of the house.  Her friend and another woman were chatting and hanging coats on portable racks that were set up for the occasion.

“Dana!” Ellen cried, rushing over to hug her friend.  “Oh, I’m so glad you came.  I know you hate these things.  Linda, come and meet my oldest friend.”

“Good to meet you,” Linda said.  “El, I’m just going to use the phone in the den and check in with the babysitter.”

“Oh of course, of course.  Go in through the side, we locked the French doors to keep people from wandering in.”  Ellen took both of Dana’s hands and squeezed them.  “It is so good to see you.  It’s been too long.”

“I know.”

“Oh, but let me take your coat.  So how are you?  How’s the teaching going?”

Scully reluctantly shed her trench coat into Ellen’s waiting hands.  “Teaching is good,” she said.  “I’ve had a new assignment though.  Sort of.  On an as needed basis.  Field work.”

“Field work, that’s exciting.”

“It is, actually.”

Ellen hung Scully’s coat up on the rack with the others.  “Where’s Ethan?”

“Oh.”  Scully took a breath and then shook her head.  “Ethan isn’t...we broke up.”

“Oh, Dana.”  Ellen made a noise of dismay and her mouth drooped into a frown.  “What happened?”

“Nothing really happened, we just...didn’t really have time for each other anymore.”

“Well, I’m sure there are plenty of eligible bachelors here tonight, though I don’t even know half of them.  Mostly colleagues of Gene.”

“How’s Trent?” Scully was eager to change the subject from eligible bachelors.

“At Gene’s parents tonight, thankfully.  They got him one of those Gameboy things for Christmas and I honestly don’t know if it’s a godsend or an instrument of evil. It’s kept him out of my hair at times, but just try to take it out of his hands!”

“Mm.”  Scully nodded, but the struggles of parenting were foreign to her.  

“He loved those cars you got him though!  Your mom brought them to midnight mass, I hope she told you.”

“I know, I was sorry I couldn’t get them to you myself, it’s been a little hectic, but I’m glad he liked them.  My...partner suggested them.”

“Partner?  Part of the new assignment?”

“In a way.  I mean, I guess I don’t really know what to call him yet.”

“Him!  Is he attractive?”

Scully opened her mouth slightly and then paused.  Mulder was attractive, but she’d tried not to dwell on it or think too much about it.  But, he dressed well, he was always clean cut and shaven, and he smelled incredible.  He was also roguishly charming, which was a bad sign.  And given her track record with Daniel and Jack, she had made a vow never to find anyone she worked with attractive ever again.

“Yeah,” she finally said.  “I guess he’s...cute.”

“Cute is good.  Tell me more ab-“

“Ellen!” Gene called out to his wife and then he appeared around the door, leaning into the frame from the other side of the wall.  “Honey, sorry to interrupt.  Where’s the case of Coke?  I thought we left it in the fridge in the garage and I can’t find it.”

“Let me check.”  Ellen widened her eyes in feigned panic at Scully and smiled.  “Hostess duties call.  I want to know more about this cute partner of yours though.”

“I mean, there’s nothing really…”  Scully trailed off.  Ellen was distracted and already out the door.

With a sigh, Scully looked around the empty room.  It was just her and a hundred coats.  She opened up the small purse that was strapped across her chest and rested at her hip.  She’d only brought the essentials with her; her ID, her phone, her debit card, and a tube of lipstick in a small case.  She took the lipstick out and checked her face in the small mirror inside the case.  There was a smudge of mascara at the corner of her eye which she fixed with a fingertip and then she closed the case and put it back in her purse.

Steeling herself, Scully headed back to the kitchen and found herself a glass of wine to sip.  She wandered the first floor looking for someone, anyone she might know, but didn’t recognize anybody.  She didn’t know how to insert herself into conversations without being awkward and so she remained a wallflower, quietly observing from a corner.

“It’s Dana, right?”  Tripp or Steve from earlier sauntered up to her.

“Yes.”

“Tripp.  We met earlier.”

“Right.  You work with Gene.”

“I do.  Gene said you were in the FBI.  That’s got to be pretty exciting, even for a secretary.”

“I’m not a secretary.”

“Oh, I don’t mean you are.  I just mean, it’s the FBI.  Covert ops and all that.  Secret intel.  Everyone from the janitor to the head honcho probably has things they have to keep hush hush.”

“I see.”  Scully took a sip of her wine and tried not to look disengaged.

“So what do you do there?”

“I’m a Special Agent.”

Tripp whistled low.  “What does that mean exactly?  You’re a spy?”

“It means I’m licensed to carry a weapon and I’m trained to use it.”  She couldn’t help herself at being a little sarcastic, but it came out a little more flirtatious than she would’ve liked.

“I guess I should be on my best behavior, then.”

“Luckily, I’m off duty tonight.”

“That is lucky.”

Her phone rang in her purse just then and she took it out and looked at the screen.  She didn’t recognize the number, but she answered anyway.  Even if it was a wrong number, it was an opportunity to extricate herself from her current conversation and she wanted to snatch it up.  She raised an apologetic finger at Tripp and then turned away, covering her ear with the side of her wine glass to block out the noise of the room.

“Scully,” she said.

“Oh hey, Scully, I didn’t actually think you’d answer.”

“Mulder?”

“Guilty.”

“Is something wrong?  Is it a case?”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at...a friend’s party.”

“I hate parties.”

She took a glance at Tripp and saw him sipping his beer and pondering the windows like he was pretending not to be interested in her conversation.  “Yes,” she answered.  “You and me both.”

“But, you’re at one?”

“Well…”

“Let me guess, you promised that friend you’d come and you’d rather be miserable than break a promise.”

She closed her eyes and her cheeks burned a little in embarrassment.  “Something like that, yes.”

“Well, I don’t want to bug you, I just wanted to say thank you.”

“For what?”

“I got your Christmas card.”

“My...Mulder, I sent that weeks ago.”

“Sometimes I get a little distracted and forget to open my mail.”

She laughed.  “And you chose 11 o’clock on New Year’s Eve to catch up?”

“I wasn’t doing anything else, so…”

“Well, you’re welcome.”

“Have a happy New Year, Scully.  I’ll let you get back to your party.  It sounds like...a party.”

“You have a happy New Year too, Mulder.”  She hung up the call and then stared at the phone in her hand for a few moments.

“Nothing urgent, I hope,” Tripp said, mildly.  “Our national security isn’t at risk, is it?”

“It could be.  I don’t work in that department.”

“So what department do you work in?”

“Pathology, mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“I’m sorry, could you excuse me?  I just realized I need to make another call.”

“Sure.”

Before she could talk herself out of what she was about to do, Scully hurried back to the sun porch to retrieve her coat.  Along the way, she dropped her half-empty wine glass off on a tray of other used glasses.  She found her trench coat fairly easily and swiped one of the many bottles of champagne off the counter in the kitchen, tucking it under her arm as she tied her jacket closed and slipped unnoticed out the door.

Traffic was light, but it still took almost forty minutes to get to Mulder’s apartment.  She had to stop a few times to consult her map and make sure she was making the right turns.  His block was tree-lined and quiet.  The apartment building was brick and stately.  A couple that were making their way out the front door let her in before she needed to buzz and she took the elevator to the fourth floor to search for number 42.  When she found it, she knocked lightly and then stepped back to wait.

“You’re not the pizza guy,” Mulder said when he opened his door.  He was barefoot, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt.  It was the most casual she’d seen him aside from his running clothes.

“Afraid not.”  She held up the bottle of champagne though and he took it from her by the neck.

“Won’t this be missed at the party?  Won’t you be missed as well?”

“Me and the champagne will go unnoticed.  And I figured, I kept my promise by showing up.  I never agreed to stay until midnight.”

“I like your logic.  Come in?”

For the first time, Scully stepped into Mulder’s apartment and took it all in.  It was dark and mismatched, but it still felt cozy.  It wasn’t quite the bachelor pad she was expecting, but she’d yet to see the kitchen or bathroom so she should probably reserve judgment.

“I was just watching Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve,” he said.

“Anything good?”

“Not really.  Should I pour this champagne now, or should we wait?”

Scully looked at her watch.  It was ten minutes to midnight.  “Pour it now,” she said.

“Sit down.  Make yourself at home.”

She took her coat off and hung it on the rack by the door.  Despite Mulder’s casual attire, she didn’t feel out of place here like she did at the party.  She unzipped her boots and took those off too.  Her socked feet slid precariously across his wood floor.  His couch was made of soft leather and she sank down into it.  A fish tank bubbled quietly next to her and she gazed at the tiny fish darting back and forth inside.

“Sorry I don’t have anything more formal,” Mulder said, coming into the room with two coffee mugs balanced in one hand and the champagne bottle in the other.  “I don’t entertain all that often.”

Scully chuckled as he handed her the mug with Marvin the Martian on the side and sat beside her.  The one he kept in his hand had the New York Knick’s logo on it.  He poured the champagne into her cup first and then his and she waited until he’d put the bottle down to clink their mugs together.

“Cheers,” he said.

“Cheers.”

They both took a sip.  Mulder licked his lips and then nodded.  “It’s good,” he said.

“I should tell you my godson loved the Hot Wheels you told me about.”

“I did?”  Mulder looked at her blankly and tilted his head in question.

“It’s okay, it was an offhand remark.  About hot toys of the season. I remembered it when I was shopping for him and...well, you should get the credit for it.”

“Oh.  How old is your godson?”

“Seven.”

“Yeah, that’s probably the prime target for the Hot Wheels market.”

Scully turned her attention to the TV and The Village People singing YMCA in low volume, interspersed with people screaming and dancing, waving noisemakers and blowing horns.  

“I hope you didn’t leave your party because of me,” Mulder said, suddenly.

“No, I left the party because of me,” she answered, after thinking it over for a few moments.

“Why’d you show up here?”

“I don’t know.  I didn’t really want to be at that party, but I also didn’t really want to be at home either.  And then you called and…”

“I’m a step above being alone.”  His chuckle echoed into his mug before he took another sip of champagne.

“It wasn’t that.  I don’t know what it was, actually, but it wasn’t that.”

They were both quiet again and Dick Clark announced a commercial break before the final countdown.  Scully looked at her watch again.  Four minutes to go.  Time seemed to fly by so quickly.

“Do you ever make resolutions?” she asked.

“Not really.  Do you?”

“Sometimes.  I can’t really think of anything this year, though.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing.  Maybe it means you’re living the life you want to live.”

“Hm.”  She thought about that all through the commercial break.  She barely had enough time for friends or family this year, let alone a relationship.  Her work was both exhilarating and fulfilling, but was that enough?  She considered herself to be content and happy, but would she always feel that way?  Should she be making time for other people now before it was too late?

“Hey,” Mulder said, bumping her shoulder with his.  “Eight, seven, you’re missing it, four, three, two, one.  Happy new year!”

Scully snapped out of her reverie and joined him at number three.  They tapped their mugs together again and took longer sips of champagne as Auld Lang Syne began to play on TV.  The screen was filled with confetti and celebration.

“Scully?” Mulder said.

“Yeah?”

He leaned closer to her, hesitated for a second, and then placed a quick kiss on her cheek.  “Happy new year,” he said.

She stared down at his knees for a few moments and then reached up to touch the spot on her cheek where his lips had been.  “We can never be together,” she said.

“What?”

“I just...I should tell you that I can never date a coworker again, so…”

“Again?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, but…”

“I didn’t mean to give you a false impression, or...or…”

“I didn’t get any impression.”

“So that we’re clear.”

“Maybe it was me that-”

There was a knock on Mulder’s door that startled them both.  He cringed and then set his mug on the coffee table and pushed himself up from the couch.  She downed the rest of her champagne and pressed the back of her hand to her flaming cheeks, one at a time.

“You like sausage and pepperoni?” he asked, returning to the room with a pizza box in hand.

“I should probably…”

“I like working with you, Scully.  I just want to throw that out there because I think we both misread something tonight and...you’re right.  We can never be together because I like working with you too much.”

“Oh.”

“It was just a friendly kiss on the cheek is all.”

“You just want to be friends?”

“I kind of thought we already were.  Sort of.”

“We can be friends.”

“Okay.”  Mulder sat down again and made room on his coffee table for the pizza box.  “Well, would you like to share this pizza with me, as a friend?”

“I think I will take you up on that offer, yes.”

“In that case, I should get some plates.”

“Mulder.”  She touched his arm, keeping him in place next to her.  After a brief pause, she leaned in and kissed his cheek, trying not to think about how warm his skin felt or let her eyes droop as she breathed him in.  She could not be attracted to her partner, not now, not ever.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“Happy new year?”

He smiled, but she noticed that his eyes shifted down to her mouth and then back up again.  “So, friends?” he said.

“And partners.”

“That depends on how good of a spy you are.”

“Mulder, I’m not…”

He raised his brows at her and she lowered her eyes.

“I like working with you too,” she said.  “With you.  Not against you.  Not for any other reason than...the cases are interesting.  The work is interesting.  You’re…”

“Interesting?”

“Yeah.”

“Well…”  Mulder picked up his mug, but noticed she was empty and poured more champagne into hers.  “To 1993,” he said, raising his cup.

“To 1993.”

They tapped their mismatched mugs together and then Mulder got up to get the plates.

The End

[olderthannetfic]

My first proper fandom! I got into it in 1994, just after the Christmas hiatus in first season. I was 13 and deeply earnest.

(Yes, this means I had a bunch of meta fights on alt.tv.x-files. Some things never change!)

I discovered the concept of fic and a lot of very dirty Mulder/Scully stories via usenet. Somewhere in there, I discovered slash, though it was such a non-event that I honestly can’t remember it. Discovering fic, however, was like the heavens opened and a lightning bolt hit me in the head.

(Ironically, this is the exact opposite of how these two experiences are described in most fandom history stuff.)

The X-Files was like Highlander: plenty of geeks liked it right away, but it took the introduction of a slashable side character to make the m/m part of the fandom explode. That character was Ratboy. Now that many years and innovations in spellcheck have passed, I can call him by his actual name, Krycek.

(No, really, we called him “ratboy” on usenet because we couldn’t spell for shit.)

Escapade had X-Files in the program every year from 1995 to 2003 and only once thereafter. This was a huge fandom in its day but its m/m ships lack the staying power of some of the other big slash fandoms of the 90s. If I had to guess why, I’d say that the enduring X-Files fandom is more interested in Scully than in Krycek or the other possible m/m ships for Mulder.

For context, AO3, bastion of oldschool slash, has 8,251 works for Mulder/Scully, but only 1,869 for Mulder/Krycek.

The X-Files holds a unique place in fandom history:

First, it coined the term ‘shipping’.

Second, it started its own big fanfic archive prior to the founding of Fanfiction.net. Gossamer is still up today, giving us a level of access to 90s fics that isn’t found in almost any other fandom. (Though I hear a lot of the slash fic was in more private places?) Many fandoms produce reams of gen casefic at their height, only for it to completely disappear because it hasn’t attracted the same desire to preserve as often-attacked slash fic has. Not so for The X-Files!

I can tell you that babby’s first fanfic (well, that I remember) was:

Mason - Willis, Cordelia & Company

Rated PG | 68K | Category X | Archived 95-06-15 Spoilers: None Keywords: None. Summary: Mulder and Scully are assigned to protect a four year-old who has special powers.

That “K” doesn’t mean it’s 68,000 words. No, in ye olden tiems, this meant it was 68 kilobytes. The story is actually only about 11k words, and you can still read it today.

Let’s hear it for fandom archivists!

The big question for slash fans was always whether to take a turn in the het side of things or to find a guy to pair Mulder up with.

Krycek was the obvious choice, whether written as his canon villainous self or with more of the woobie vibe he had while pretending to be good. As the series progressed, there started to be more Mulder/Skinner shippers. That ship was one of the first places in fandom I remember seeing a lot of enemas and fisting as well as daddy kink and attempts at realistic BDSM.

Escapade panels included:

1995 - no description

1996 - To Slash or Not To Slash (With a juicy M/F partnership on screen, is slash a cop out?)

1997 - Find Mulder a Mate (Fox Mulder. Pouter extraordinaire. Wears red Speedos and trusts -- almost -- no one. LONELY. Where to find him a mate? In his beloved yet female partner? In his acerbic yet balding boss? In his one-armed enemy? In the world of crossovers? YOU decide.)

1998 - The Men (and Woman) in Mulder's Life (Can he ever truly love? Or does he have too much on his mind to even consider dating anyone?)

1999 - Mulder: Character or Caricature? (Sixth season finds The X-Files, itself, mocking Mulder's strange, if endearing habits. So, what does that say about him? Has overexposure sent a true original into the dreaded realms of media caricature, or is there still hope for him? )

2000 - Alex Krycek: Psycho Extraordinaire, or Simply Misunderstood?

2001 - Who Does Chris Carter Think This Krycek Person Is, Anyhow? (This is a time when we look at the show and think, "Wait. Chris Carter doesn't understand the concept of 'canon'," What's up, Chris? Even ignoring the (obvious) slash elements, you're wasting a valuable character here.)

2002 - XF: History Of (Or why Chris Carter should be shot in the head. Sorting out the show's scattered and contradictory history, both of human/alien relations and of characters like Krycek, Skinner, the Mulders, and the Spenders. Starting point: best theories from canon.)

2003 - Is the truth still out there? (Is XF fandom 'really' dead? Has Scully done the autopsy? Or did CC mess up canon so badly that there is nothing left for us to work with (except some great characters, some of whom might be dead)?)

2016 - Reopening the X-Files. We have more canon! Do we care? And what have we seen so far? Discuss the new season and its promises and pitfalls.

X-Files on Fanlore

X-Files on AO3

X-Files on FFN

The Gossamer Archive

[greekowl87]

Fic: It Must Be a Christmas X-File!

A/N: Post-ep ‘How the Ghosts Stole Christmas’ with mentions of ‘Christmas Carol and ‘Emily.’ I don’t think this is a stand out awesome fic or my best work, but I wanted to get something done for Christmas. I hope you all enjoy it. This isn’t how I imagined it turning out but with no real direction and written with less than 24 hours with holiday activities, I’m happy with it. Still, I hope you like it. Fluff. Implied smut but I just didn’t have time to get into it. P.S. No beta so apologies for crappy dialogue and typos :( I hope it doesn’t suck too badly.

Tagging @today-in-fic @suitablyaggrieved @improlificinsarcasm @baronessblixen

.....

Scully parked her car and turned off the ignition as Mulder leaned forward to glance out the windshield. The snow earlier had bee light and fleeting. Now, the snow came down in big flakes like cotton balls sticking to everything. She chuckled lightly and remarked, “So much for a white Christmas. I bet the weathermen were surprised.”

“They were calling for rain, it was thundering last night, it was just a flurry, clear today, and now a full-on blizzard,” he commented dryly. “Remember the blizzard of 95?”

“Don’t remind me and you’re not driving home in this weather either, Mulder.”

“Aw, Scully, I’ve already caused up enough time and ruined probably enough Christmases for you. Bill didn’t seem to happy to see my face this year. Your mother tolerated me at best. Tara was Switzerland. Your nephew was cute though.” He smiled. “But I have already overstayed my welcome.”

“Mulder,” Scully said, “I was glad to have you there with me. I told you this before, I wouldn’t want it any other days. Come on. You can crash on the couch tonight.”

“Scully,” he countered.

“I’m not giving you a choice. Apparently, we shot each other, I don’t want to shoot you again for not listening to my wisdom. Besides, I really don’t mind. It’s Christmas after all, Mulder.”

He glanced at back out the windshield as the snowfall conjured up harsh New England winters he had experienced as a child. “Okay.” Mulder bit his lip and smiled. “Let me go grab my overnight bag. I’ll meet you at your door.”

“I’ll see you upstairs.”

The snow crunched under their shoes as Scully made her way cautiously up the unshoveled walkway to her apartment, warily watching for ice. She unlocked the main door and rode the elevator upwards to her third-floor apartment. She unlocked the apartment door, turned on the foyer light, and dropped her keys onto the table next to the door. In the corner by her desk, a small Christmas tree sat lightly decorated. “At least the timer came on,” she murmured to herself.

Ever since her father’s passing on Christmas a few years earlier, she tended not to decorate as much for Christmas. The tree was enough, maybe a wreath if she felt like putting in extra effort, but for the most part, she had just kept up a tree. Even then the decorations seemed less and less each year. Scully kicked off her boots by the door and instantly lost three inches. She heard Mulder’s familiar footsteps. She opened the door slightly and he pushed it open.

“It’s really coming down out there, Scully. If it keeps up like this, we might have at least six inches by tomorrow morning.”

“See, it is a good thing you’re spending the night.”

He carried his overnight bag over his shoulder and smirked. 

“What?”

“I always forget how…”

“Short?”

“For lack of a better word?”

She was smiling at him and Mulder shivered. She locked the door behind him and nodded to the couch. “Go make yourself comfortable. It’s only seven. There’s still five hours of Christmas left,” she told him. “Maybe there’s something on television.”

“A Christmas Story? A Christmas Carol? The Grinch Who Stole Christmas?” 

“Go find something, G-man. I’m going to the kitchen to get us something special. Are you hungry at all?”

“I’m good.” Mulder dropped his overnight by the couch and spied the Christmas tree in the corner. “Looks like you decorated less this year, Scully.”

“I don’t see a reason too, ever since dad died. But I’ve always loved Christmas. Ahab would take down the tree first thing day after Christmas.” He could hear the sadness in her voice. “I rebelled in my own little way and kept it up until January 10th give or take.”

“It looks nice,” he commented. “I like it.”

“Thank you,” she called. “I got this bottle that a friend from Quantico brought back from Dublin, Ireland.”

“A bottle of what?”

“Genuine Irish whiskey,” she called in a sing-song voice. “Since you’re not driving anywhere and it’s Christmas, come have a drink with me.”

“Agent Scully,” he crooned. 

“Shut up, Mulder.”

He cast a secretive glance as Scully busied herself in the kitchen and made a quick dash to her small tree. He quickly dug out a small wrapped box that he had hidden weeks before so it would be in view when she would sit. He rushed back to her couch before she could carry the whiskey glasses over to them. “Snow is really coming down out there,” he remarked casually.

“You already said that. I could start a fire. It does get a little drafty in here.”

“I’m fine, Scully. You still have that space heater right?”

“I brought it to the basement after Thanksgiving. Remember when the heat broke?”

“Right. Well, I can show off my Indian Guide skills and do the fire for you.”

“Go right ahead, Master of the Flame.”

Mulder watched her kick off her boots and tuck her legs under her. She rested her arm on the back of the couch and sipped the whiskey amused. He could swear she was flirting with him.   He took a drink of liquid courage himself and started to build a little fire that he could feed the bigger logs into. “Thank you again, Scully, for today.”

“What part of it?”

“All of it. Coming to the haunted house, letting me spend Christmas with you and your family… thanks by the way for defending my maiden honor against Bill…” She laughed. “And now. I really, really mean it. It has been so long since I’ve had a...regular...no...nice, easy Christmas that I have actually enjoyed.”

“And you’re here now, safe from the cold. Baby, it’s cold outside,” she teased. “Come back here, Mulder. The fire started. Come enjoy your drink.”

He dusted his hands and jeans off before going back to the couch where Scully watched him with a little carefree smile he hadn’t seen in ages. He picked up his glass and sat across from her on the couch. “No place I’d rather be.”

“I wanted to thank you,” she said after a moment of contemplation.

“Why?”

“Why did you invite me out there last night? To a haunted house of Christmas Eve?”

“To investigate…”

“Mulder, you know better than to lie to me.”

“I wanted you there with me. I didn’t want...after last year...I didn’t want you to have to go through it alone.”

“So you used a guise for a fake x-file to get me out there?”

“I know you would come if I asked for your help,” he answered. “I wasn’t sure otherwise.”

Mulder swished the amber liquid in the glass and took a sip. Scully, touched by his gesture, took his hand and squeezed it. “Thank you.”

He relaxed and nodded. “Hey, I think Santa left you something under the tree. He must’ve visited you last night when you were over at my place.”

She narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him and turned to look at her tree. A small box with red wrapping paper and a gold bow. “What the hell?” She set her drink on the coffee table and got up to inspect it. “Mulder…” she said. “I thought we agreed not to exchange gifts.”

“We did and I now have an awesome book to read thanks to you. What does it say?”

She shook her head, a grin forming ear to ear as she brought it back to the couch to open. “To the world’s best G-woman, who continues to save my ass; Love, Mulder.” She sighed and shook her head. “You really shouldn’t have. I have nothing for you.”

“You do, every day.”

Scully took his hand and held it tightly. The air changed between them and she whispered, “Thank you, Mulder.”

“Now, open your present. I picked it out especially for. You myself.” She smiled and carefully picked at the taped edges to open it. Mulder smiled; she took as much time and precision as she did performing one of her autopsies. “Scully, just rip it open.”

“I don’t want to ruin anything.”

“You won’t, it’s in a box!”

Scully ripped the last bit open and she inspected the small silver box. “Mulder?”

“Just open it.”

She opened the box and gasped. “Mulder. Jesus, you really shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted to.” She inspected the two small earrings he had gotten him. Two pearls were surrounded in a thin layer of gold in the shape of a four-leaf clover. “I know you already own a pair of pearl earrings,” he started, “but I wanted to do something a little special.”

“Mulder, they’re lovely.”

“Really?”

“I mean that sincerely. You honestly didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

She closed the box and set it aside. The air changed between them again. “I’m glad you’re here, Mulder,” she whispered. She took his hand again. “Honestly.”

Mulder, feeling emboldened, leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. “Sorry for the lack of mistletoe.”

“I’m not complaining.” She gave a small smile. “Except…”

“Except what?”

“I don’t know how I should take that kiss.”

“What do you mean?”

Scully tucked her legs back under her again and she sipped the whiskey contemplatively. “Well, we’re friends...partners?”

“Obviously.”

She licked her lips contemplating her next words. The past few months tumulated through her head: Diana, Antarctica, and  when he said, “You’re my one in five billion.” Those ghosts had assumed that they would be perfect for a murder-suicide because they appeared to be the perfect couple. What were they? His actions were confusing; the new pearl earrings had just given her added to her confusion even more.

“So, where does that leave us?”

“What do you mean?”

“Mulder, you drag me out to a haunted house on Christmas eve, you tell me you don’t want me to go through the holiday alone, and the earrings.”

He narrowed his eyes quizzically. “If you are going to continue to speak riddles and play twenty questions with me, Scully, I might need to get some whiskey.”

“I left it on the counter.” Mulder got up to get the bottle and Scully took the moment to examine the earrings he had just given her. Her heart warmed at the thought and the possibility it could mean more. “I really like the earrings,” she called.

“I’m glad,” he smiled.

She eyed the hefty amount of alcohol he had poured into his glass. “So back to my original question, Mulder. Where does that leave us?”

He watched her momentarily and bent forward to kiss her again more slowly this time. She savored the moment tasting the drops of whiskey on his tongue as he deepened the kiss. He broke away and smiled mischievously. “Does that answer your question?”

“It’s a start.”

“I like flirty Scully,” he remarked.

“I’m not flirty.”

Her cheeks glowed in firelight, either from embarrassment or the alcohol. “It’s both,” he said, seemingly reading his mind. “And yes you are. Whiskey.” He filled up her glass again. “A fire.” He nodded to her fireplace. “And snow.”

“And only one bed,” she finished laughing.

“I can take the couch.”

“Mulder,” she sighed lovingly. “What are we though? Really?”

“Anything you want,” he told her.

Scully tucked her arm behind her neck and rested her head on it. “Six years and you don’t want to go straight to that bed of years and make amazing love?”

“In time,” she said, holding up a hand. “You’re not going anywhere soon with this weather. It’s just...I’ve always wondered, Mulder and after so many years…”

“What?”

“It’s nice to be…”

“Desired? Wanted? Loved?”

“For lack of a better word,” she said. She took a long sip from her drink to hide her flushed cheeks. “I just...I’ve wanted the same thing too, Mulder. The hallway?”

His eyebrows rose, almost surprised. “It’s never too late.”

“I know,” she laughed. She watched him quietly and Mulder recognized the gaze. “So, Christmas miracles?”

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” he laughed. “Can I?”

“What?”

He kissed her again. This time, they abandoned both of their glasses in favor of indulging in the kiss. “Lucky number three,” Mulder whispered. He kissed her again. “You’re not helping if you want to relax.”

“Mulder, now you are just beginning to sound ridiculous.”

Mulder laughed, reaching for both of their glasses. “Merry Christmas, Scully.”

She took it and clinked it against his. “To a Christmas miracle.”

“A Christmas miracle.”

The glasses rang throughout Scully’s Georgetown apartment and they both downed it in one gulp. “Well,” he began, setting both glasses aside, “this honestly feels worse than high school.”

“So how do we…” They both laughed at the awkwardness of the situation. The alcohol only added to it. “Well, as a medical doctor, when a man and a woman…”

“Scully, shut up.”

“What?”

“Let’s finish this conversation elsewhere.”

“Did anyone tell you that you are horrible at innuendo?”

“Only you but I still win your heart right?”

“Always, Mulder.”

He discarded their glasses and offered his hand.

“How many near-deaths do we need?”

“Must need Good to smack us in the head. Come on, Scully.”

“It must be a Christmas X-File,” she mumbled to herself. “Let’s stay here, Mulder.”

“Your couch?”

“Seems fitting,” she whispered. She initiated another kiss. She pulled him closer. “Christmas miracle, Mulder.”

“Christmas miracle, Scully.”

He smiled, lounged back, and Scully opened her last present for that Christmas.

-End.

[starbuck09256]

Dialogue Prompt: 10. “Don’t look at me… I’m sick!”

Season One Early MSR referenced

  He’s not sure why he bothered coming into the office today. He is clearly ill. But he has to finish his report to Skinner of the arctic ice core project. The death of Danny and Bear. How they will never know what all was buried up there. He sniffles again, trying to find the issues in his crowded desk, finally seeing a box on the other side of the office in Scully’s area. Bless her for being organized. He takes the entire box with him as he plops back onto his chair, loosening his neck tie even though it’s only 8:15 in the morning he already feels hot and sweaty. The cough syrup he had taken makes him feel a little loopy as he hits each key on the keyboard. Scully will be in any second, and he knows that she will spend a good amount of time reminding him that she is a medical doctor probably make him go to the hospital and finish his report for him ignoring the fact that the worms could be extressitrail and how imperative it is that further investigation is necessary despite the entire area being burned. She’s a challenge but in a good way. She trusted him up there when she could have easily just shot him. He knows the medicine is messing with his brain when he starts thinking about her soft skin under his fingertips as he reached around her neck. How those strong small hands felt running up and over his shoulder muscles. How cute she looked in that ridiculous jacket and how he likes seeing the casual side of her. He is going crazy, she is still probably a spy albeit a bad one. He’s actually been able to convince her of quite a few things and maybe that is part of some grand plan she has. But he is in trouble, when she fell asleep on the flight home against his shoulder, how she snuggled into him. This fierce brillant woman is going to take up a lot of his free time. He’s already hearing her voice in his head when he reads certain stories that sound crazier than him. He smiles dopily shaking his head as she comes through the door with her briefcase and can-do attitude. 

“Morning” she says brightly. 

Does her voice always sound like sweet honey? Have her eyes always look so simmery? He makes a promise to himself to never take that hydro-whatever cough syrup again. He is clearly losing his mind and should probably get a cab home at this point. He tries to smile up at her. Play it cool so she doesn’t see that he has a high fever and also grinning like an idiot. “Mulder.. Are you all right?” She is moving over to him. He can’t help it, he starts to cough. 

“Don’t look at me.. I’m sick.” he says trying to move his hand in front of his face and dissuade her from getting closer. Her eyes narrow at him. 

“Yea, I can see that.. You know I’m a” 

“medical doctor yes yes Scully I’m aware. But I don’t need you lecturing me or anything for a cold. I just have to finish my report turn it into Skinner and then I’ll go home, promise.”

 He clicks a few times as he stands up to make his way to the printer, his stumble forward and is caught by Scully. Who is way faster than she looks. 

“Jesus Mulder,” she says as his cradled in her arms his legs having given out. He looks up from her shoulder sheepishly. 

“Hi Scully,” he mutters. She helps him a little to the side chair. Her cold hands running up and over his face, god her touch feels amazing. 

“Mulder, do you have a fever?” 

He looks up at her chuckling as her shrugs his shoulders at her and then she leans down brushing a soft kiss to his forehead. It feels like a feather but leaves him feeling tingly and cool. 

“Sorry Mulder, my hands are freezing and kissing your forehead is the only way I was going to be able to tell if you were actually really warm.” 

He wants to make a joke, but he finds himself grinning and nodding happily. 

“Its ok, it felt nice.” Oh fuck… he thinks. He is going to throw out that bottle of syrup the second he walks into his door. Her hands stop removing his tie. Her eyes meet his. 

“Mulder, did you umm take anything this morning for your cold?” she asks her voice tentative. 

The Mulder she knows is professional mostlyish. They have a great partnership and while she finds the work challenging and inthralling she has promised herself Mulder will not become the new Jack or Daniel no matter how cute his puppy dog eyes are. 

“Yea yea I took some cough medicine from an old bottle.” 

“How much did you take, you seem so out of it.” She mutters as her fingers finally free him of his tie and he feels the sweet relief of the first 2 buttons being undone. 

“Mulder god you’re all clammy. Have you had any water?” 

Water sounds like a good idea, he shakes his head as it slides  a little to the left. 

“Ok Mulder here is what we are gonna do.” Uh oh bossy Scully. Bossy Scully is not his favorite. Bossy Scully will shut you down. You will get nothing past her and she will make sure you are acutely aware that she is in charge. Bossy Scully is also incredibly sexy and one of his biggest turn ons. Not good not good. 

“Scully I’m just gonna turn this thing in..” he makes a vague gesture to where he thinks the printer is (not at all where he is gesturing)

”and then I’ll go home, sleep this off. Be fine and ready to bother and inundate you with annoying theories tomorrow.” 

He moves to stand ready to focus every single muscle in his body to accomplishing this task. He makes it about one foot before Boss Scully puts her hand on his chest and pushes him back down into the seat. So much force for a tiny person. He sits abruptly looking at her as sternly as possible. Her eyebrow raises and the look she gives him is something he anticipates seeing a lot of in their partnership. 

“Mulder, you can barely walk, I will turn this into Skinner for you. Then I will come right back here and take you home with a few stops to get you all fixed up.” 

“No Scully, that is a lot of effort. I mean it’s just a cold.” 

“Mulder you are burning up, until I can get an accurate reading of your temperature and find out what the hell you took, you are not leaving my sight. Do you understand?” her stern voice leaves no room for argument, and honestly he would rather argue with her over something more fun than being sick anyway. 

“Fine, doc. I’m happy to wait, while you run upstairs.” 

Her tight smile as she grabs the papers off the printer stapling them quickly and walks out. He sighs slumping into his chair playing with the two ends of his unknotted tie, tries not to think about how his head still kind of tingles where she kissed him. How the faint coolness from her fingers brushing over his skin is wearing off and how she will most likely be helping him strip down soon to crawl onto his couch. Before he can think of anything else she is back grabbing her briefcase and bracing her legs to help lift him. 

“Scully don’t look at me like that, I'm fine.” he huffs out as he starts to stand much to quickly and almost falls on top of her again. “

Sure you are partner, sure you are” she mutters his arm is slung over her shoulders as they try to make their way to the far elevator that can take them to the garage instead of the bullpen. She presses the button quickly and leans him against the wall a little. He can’t help but chuckle as they walk to her car. 

Her car is clean with another box of tissues available for his use. He blows again finding a tiny trash can conveniently available in the back. He watches her drive past buildings that blur together as his eyes drift close. The next thing he feels is a small jostle of her hand on his shoulder. 

“Mulder, come on you have to help me get you inside.” 

His eyes narrow as he stares at her building. She has a brown bag of groceries in one arm as she tries to reach for him. He rubs his face, and he struggles to get out of the seatbelt. She huffs a sigh and reaches across him to undo it. Even with his stuffy nose he smells her perfume. She looks at him waiting for him to figure out that now he can get out. 

“Oh, uh sorry.” he says as he moves towards her. 

“I can carry the bag for you Scully,” 

“No you can’t even carry yourself. Come on just lean against me,” 

“Why are we at your place? Seems a little early for a sleepover dontcha think?” She chuckles as they struggle up the stairs to her building. 

 “You have no bed in your apartment, and no food. What I think you took for cough medicine was not in fact cough medicine but a weird liquid muscle relaxer, which is making you loopy and delusional. You are in no shape to walk or do anything but sleep. Plus all my fun doctor toys are inside.”she is smirking, he can see her smirking 

“Oooh a sleepover and exam, you spoil me Scully.” 

“Dream on Mulder.” she says as she fumbles for her keys sliding them into the lock and pushing the door open with the bag of groceries. 

She helps him in, turning slightly to set the groceries down as he heads to the couch. 

“No, Mulder, no.”  he starts to sit as she rushes back from setting the groceries on the table. She is trying to lift him off the couch, but it’s so soft and smells like her and is comfy and he is so tired. 

“Mulder, come on jesus you’re heavy” as she struggles pulling him up. 

“You can’t stay on the couch.” 

“Sorry Scully I can’t take your bed from you. That’s not very partnerly.” she huffs a sigh.

 “Just help me get you into the bedroom ok?” 

“That’s what all the pretty girls are saying these days.” She can’t help but laugh. 

He stands swaying back and forth in her bedroom. It is famine but minimal. Decorated with whites and blues, he looks down at the tiny buttons on his shirt moving his fingers to try and undo them. she moves his hands away. 

“Scully, whoa, look I got it.” the eyebrow is back. 

“Mulder look just pull your shirt up a bit and undo your belt.” 

“whoa, wait,” 

“Mulder seriously you are going to fall over any second and I really need to get you in this bed before that happens and have you at least somewhat comfortable ok? I’ve seen plenty of naked men before alright don’t flatter yourself.” 

“yea but Scully they were dead.” 

“Ha..ha...ha” she says finishing unbuttoning his shirt for him and pulling it off. 

She is the model of efficiency his Scully. Shit, she is not your Scully, she is your very beautiful partner. Not really the right time to think about that considering she is now pulling off your belt buckle and undoing your pants pushing them down. 

“Ok sit down.” all business that voice.

 Bossy turn on Scully is back. He sits in his white shirt and boxers as she takes off his shoes and socks. She moves quick and he is wondering if she is secretly the roadrunner, going beep beep as she avoids the coyote. Her hand is so nice on his shoulder as she helps him under the covers. 

“Your hand feels so nice on my skin Scully,” he hums happily. 

She sighs, lets her fingers cool his burning skin. 

“Mulder just lay here, I’m going to go take your temperature, get you a cold compress and some water. Then you need to sleep for a bit before we can give you anything else. But I’ll make you some soup ok?” 

“Can you cook too Scully? That’s good to know.” 

she shakes her head at him and rubs her face. 

“I’ll be right back, don’t roll off the bed.” 

It's so comfortable her bed. Maybe he should get a bed, be a real adult. Have Scully pick out the sheets because the ones she has are so soft. He should steal one of her pillows too as he closes his eyes against the fabric. 

He smells the most delicious thing, which is surprising since he wasn’t sure his nose could do anything besides leak mucus. He feels a cool cloth on his face lightly dampening his skin. It feels wonderful. Like tiny kisses from a water mist. He hums in contentment. 

“Hey sleepyhead.” he finds her sitting on the bed next to him. She smiles warmly at him. Her fingers dancing across his forehead again as she moves his bangs. 

“How ya feeling?” He still feels stuffy but not as achy which is nice. 

“Better,” he mutters. 

“What’s that smell?” 

“Soup, I’ll bring you some in a minute. First take these and drink this entire glass please.” she hands him a couple pills and a cold glass of water as she stands up and makes her way to the kitchen no longer dressed in the pantsuit she was wearing to work, but a light blue sweater and black pants. 

He sits up, moving one of her perfect pillows behind his head as she carries a tray full of soup and little crackers. He grins widely. 

“Gonna spoon feed me too Doc?” she sets the tray down across his lap grabbing the napkin and tucking it under his chin mockingly.

 “Sorry not part of the service,” her eyes twinkle she likes this. Likes bantering with him. 

He takes the spoon in his hand pours way more crackers than he should into her clearly homemade soup stirring to get a big bite. It reminds him of when him and Sam had played to long in the snow. It warms his whole body, the taste lingers on his tongue. She smiles softly. 

“Well let me know when you are done. Your fever has come down a bit. But I still think you should stay here until tomorrow.” he nods. 

When he’s done she moves the tray fluffs his pillows for him and makes him take something else that will help him apparently. 

In the morning when she is asleep on the couch and he feels a thousand times better he kisses her cheek before waking her. 

Years Later

He looks at the discarded tissues that liter the end table. The bottle of nyquil, and aspirin. The picture of him and Scully obscured by a disarray of snot and mucus as he feels his lungs fill up to cough for the millionth time that day. He can’t help but laugh as Scully comes over to him, with her sad face of pity and a big bowl of her homemade soup and crackers. She sets it down for him, pulling out a thermometer and telling him to lay back. He’s pretty doped up on nyquil and some other stuff as her fingers brush through his hair and around his neck as she helps him settle on their worn couch. She sits against his stomach while his feet pop up on the other end. She smiles at him sadly shaking the old thermometer slipping it under his tongue. He thinks about all the times she’s been there doctoring him. 

“I miss when you use to just kiss my forehead for the temperature” she smiles and blushes. 

“I didn’t have a thermometer at the time..” 

“Oh yea that was why you did it got me to come over stripped me down” he taps her thigh with his long fingers. She grins up at him knowing she never fooled him. 

He can’t help but chuckle which leads to coughing. She shakes her head grabs the crackers and dumps a giant amount into his soup for him. Just like he did years ago. The spoon reaches his lips and he already feels better.

Tagging @today-in-fic @improlificinsarcasm @lappina @scully-eats-sushi @baronessblixen @itotallygazeatscully @marinafrenzy @peacenik0 @suitablyaggrieved

#mulder and scully 

#xf fanfic

#prompt #fluff #s1 #sickfic #thexfiles #I love prompts

#written on my phone with no beta #shrug

[ariesfm-blog]

            hi ! my name is link ! i go by he / they pronouns , am 21+ & live in the cst timezone ! i’m an obnoxious aries & this is my idiot , max , who also happens to be an obnoxious aries because i believe in writing what i know JHGKFDLHLF . i’m really excited to be here , because plotless slice of life rps are my thing & i’m excited to get to know all of you & write with you !!! under the cut you’ll find misc. info & some wanted connections , but here are links to his stats page & his pinterest board , which hopefully will give you some extra insight . feel free to like this if you’d like to plot .but if you wanna plot on d*scord ( which is easier for me ) you can add me @ demogorgon ramsay#0039 !

( johnny seo, cismale, he/him ) who is that ? oh, it’s just MAXWELL “MAX” BAE the TWENTY-FOUR year old has been in beauhart for HIS WHOLE LIFE and is currently a BARTENDER. i’ve heard they can be CONFIDENT and HONEST, but also IMPATIENT and BRASH. maybe that’s why their anthem is SANCTUARY by JOJI and CAFFEINE JITTERS, DIRTY CONVERSE PAIRED WITH ALIEN SOCKS, PHONE NUMBERS WRITTEN ON NAPKINS makes me think of them.

misc. info : ( cw : mentions of death & drug use )

his mother died giving birth to him. though he doesn’t remember her ( obviously ) he still holds a bit of guilt & think it’s his fault that she died. but his dad is always quick to snuff that line of thought & holds absolutely no ill will towards max about it

all he’s ever heard is good things about her so he loves her or the idea of her really. he likes to imagine himself in the stories people tell him about her & it’s a comfort to him. it makes him feel like he kind of grew up with her even though he never got to meet her

his dad is a sweet person. full of laughs & kindness. also bad jokes ( this is where max gets his own humor from ). he’s the kind of dad that people wish for. he’s always been supportive of max no matter what & he listens to him whenever he needs it

when they were little they played catch & watched yu-gi-oh together. max still has all his yu-gi-oh cards stuffed in his closet somewhere. now they’re more likely to sit on his dad’s front porch & drink together while listening to music

his dad has never dated or remarried after his wife died because that was his soulmate & he doesn’t want to settle for anyone else & his dad has always told max to find that one person for him

max was miserable in school. he wasn’t good at it & none of it made any sense to him. so he struggled in graduating high school. & he tried college but he couldn’t stand it so he dropped out thankfully with no negative feedback from his dad

he’s kind of anxious & fidgety so it’s hard for him to pay attention ( anxiety & adhd nation make some noise !!! ) but if he gets focused on a project he’ll ignore his need to eat or anything else to work on it

he picked up making drinks from his dad at a young age ( imagine a twelve year old making cocktails that’s basically how it was ) & is really good at it so naturally he became a bartender. it’s not his dream job per se but he enjoys it a lot & makes good tips from it so he has no complaints about it

basically he’s pretty happy-go-lucky but he’s also an idiot & annoying about it. he can seem friendly enough at first but once you get close to him he’ll turn up that aries personality & get on your nerves ( but he’s also like a leech & will stick to you )

he’s really into aliens. he even has a ufo tattoo ! he will fight with anyone who doesn’t believe in them ( or cryptids or the supernatural in general ). the x-files is his favorite show & he wishes to be fox mulder every day of his life. he’s also a diehard boogara

he’s a big conspiracy theorist. he believes in lizard people, the illuminati & that queen elizabeth is a cannibal & that’s how she’s stayed alive for so long. he’s very paranoid about stuff. he’s one of those people who read the terms & conditions on everything so that he doesn’t agree to some company stealing his dna & selling it on the dark web. he also refuses to pick up the phone because he thinks the government is listening in on them ( he only makes calls when he’s high & out of it )

& he loves true crime. he’s always listening to true crime podcasts & watching true crime docs

he loves energy drinks & coffee. he drinks them so much that he’s shaking about 75% of the day but he never listens when people tell him he’s gonna get a heart attack

he’s messy. his apartment is messy. his hair is messy. his entire energy is just messy. but he thinks his personality makes up for it

he can kinda cook but honestly he’s lazy & just prefers to order in food 95% of the time. also he has a bad habit of forgetting stuff like he’ll turn the oven on then get distracted then wonder what the weird smell in his place is

for the most part he’s nice but he does participate in “friendly” dragging. if you’re friends he will clown you & sometimes he can hurt someone’s feelings even when he doesn’t mean to ( more than likely he will not apologize for it he’ll just ignore it til the other person gets over it hopefully )

always losing his headphones. he settles for those crappy $5 earbuds that you find at dollar stores so he won’t feel bad for losing them anymore. honestly he loses everything. who knows how many sets of keys he’s gone through

he’s super clumsy. always tripping, always running into stuff. he’s broken a million glasses at the bar

he’s pretty flirty, pretty charming. he uses it to his advantage at the bar, draws in customers in order to get tips & phone numbers

he’s a soft thot. he’s easy to sleep with but he’s kind & caring about all his partners

he’s a really good boyfriend & he falls in love easily,  but he’s forgetful & accidentally negligent sometimes. like he’ll go days without responding to texts or checking up on people. he doesn’t mean to he just does

he loves pins, patches & colorful socks. everything he wears is covered in them. most of the things he wears aren’t even related to his interests because people just give them random things & he wears them anyway

he can never open jars his beefy arms are useless

a fan of punny humor. he’s the king of dad jokes

he’s that person who puts his legs up on the dash of the car or hangs them out the window

wishes he knew how to skateboard but doesn’t even know how to ride a bike

takes in random cats & dogs he finds on the street. sometimes he tries to find their owners & sometimes he doesn’t but it’s fine

he’s addicted to those edited audios that are like “( song ) but you’re listening to it in the bathroom at a party & you’re crying because you’re alone” & he’s obsessed with joji so of course those are his favorite 

he’s one of those pansexuals who call themselves gay constantly 

uses uwu in texts to be ironic & annoying. most of his words have w replacing certain letters to sound like a smol

he gets stoned at like three am & tries to call people & ask them stupid high people questions like “if two vegans fight is it still called beef”

he’s also never left beauheart or gone too far away. just a few cities at most. he has a bit of a stoner paranoia about it. like if he leaves the state something bad will happen to him or his dad or loved ones

he’s terrified of horror movies. especially ones with clowns. he refuses to watch them because he’s convinced that he’ll accidentally summon a demon or a ghost through osmosis or something JHGDLFKGHD

wanted connections :

rooommates ( one or two )

exes ( any gender. it can be messy or friendly. i’m willing to have max be the issue though with him it’ll always be baby issues since he’s nice & a tryhard JGHKFDHFKGFD )

hookups / fwbs ( any gender. singular experiences or regular type things )

childhood plots for those who’ve lived in beauheart ( childhood friends, first kisses / crushes, all that good stuff )

high school sweethearts

flirtationships that don’t go anywhere

one-sided crushes ( don’t mind who has the feelings ! )

mutual pining but they’re both idiots & have no idea

party buddies. conspiracy theory buddies. true crime buddies. any of these can be combined

tinder date ( it can go well or not )

frequent customers ( better yet, frequent customers that he flirts with. give me the cliche phone number on napkins plot)

maybe you don’t tip him for whatever reason & he’s had a bad day & he’s like “bro wtf”

teach him how to ride a bike KJFDHSLGJF

maybe you try to get him to leave beauheart & you have to deal with his crybaby ramblings about how something bad will happen

beef with him over the existence of supernatural things

be the person he calls at three am after eating too many edibles & deal with his stoned questions

try to make him watch a horror movie

for someone newer to town: be that person who makes a “your mom” joke & have to deal with that awkward “my mom’s dead” conversation

maybe he “accidentally” stole your cat or dog & you try to get it back but he doesn’t believe that it’s yours even though you clearly have proof

maybe you’re the person who always ends up finding the stuff he loses & you’re stuck in this constant act of returning & you’re tired of it

literally anything you can think of i’m probably down for it

[sisterspooky1013]

Damsels, Chapter Three: Interview

By SisterSpooky1013 / Read Previous Chapters Here

Rated E / Tagging @today-in-fic

The Hoover building is deserted at 4am, which is exactly why she has to be there so early. She arrives at Skinner’s office with nothing but her car keys and the casual clothing on her back. Agent Wiley, a young woman in her twenties, greets Scully warmly. She’s tall and brunette with an hourglass figure, and Scully has the passing thought that she is exactly Mulder’s type. She wonders if they’ve ever met.

“I’ll drive you to your apartment in Philly where you’ll stay for the duration of the undercover assignment, Agent Scully,” Wiley says in an authoritative though very high pitched voice. “We’ll leave your car in the bureau garage for the duration, but you can give A.D. Skinner your keys for safekeeping.”

Scully hands Skinner her keys and he sets them on top of his desk, rubbing his hands over a weary and sleep-rumpled face.

“I’ll fill you in on the case details on the way. Let’s hit the road, we’ve got a two and a half hour drive ahead of us,” she finishes, slinging her purse over her shoulder and making for the door.

Scully follows her mutely. Just as she reaches the door herself, Skinner speaks.

“Agent Scully?” he asks in a hoarse voice. She turns to face him. “I…I…” He keeps restarting his sentence, but never gets further than that.

Scully finally interjects. “It’s okay, sir. I understand. We all have a job to do.”

He nods at her with a grateful expression, and she follows Agent Wiley out to the parking garage.

The sun is just beginning to brighten the inky sky as they drive out of D.C. Agent Wiley is chatty behind the wheel as Scully leafs through the case file; once they get to Philly, she won’t have the opportunity to see it again. The only trace of Dana Scully in her apartment will be a burner cell phone, which she is to keep off and hidden in an air duct in the wall. She will call Agent Wiley at least every other day, or as needed, to share any updates. She is to turn the phone on only when she’s sure no one else is in the apartment with her. She is expected to get as close as possible to the other dancers at the club, one of whom they believe to be Mila Chamberlain. In the file, there’s a photo of Mila, a young Asian woman with a short blonde pixie cut and penetrating dark brown eyes. There is also her parents’ account of her disappearance shortly after meeting Ricky at a party, and their fears that’s she’s a victim of sex trafficking.

“Your cover is Diane Sellers, recently divorced and needing work,” Agent Wiley explains. “To our understanding, they won’t ask you much about your history, but it’s still good to have a backstory ready. It can be helpful to use real details from your life in regards to things like siblings, parents, and past romantic partners, just because it’s easier to keep straight. We don’t recommend addiction being a part of your backstory, in case that affects Ricky’s willingness to trust you. You should immerse yourself as much as possible with the staff, including spending time with them outside work if you can. You can have them over to your apartment, which is why it’s important that there’s nothing there that isn’t part of Diane’s story. It’s fully furnished with everything from tampons to Rice a Roni, but we’ve also set up a bank account and a debit card in case you need to buy anything. Once you identify Mila, call me. You should try to get as close to her as possible, and ultimately the goal is to confirm that she’s being held against her will. Then we’ll raid the club and get you both out of there. What questions do you have?”

Scully stares out the window at the cars rushing by. The pink sunrise illuminating the clouds on the horizon makes the sky look pinstriped.

“Why weren’t you asked to go undercover, if this is your case? You’re young, you’re very pretty. So I guess my question is why not you?” She recognizes the irritation in her voice, but she can’t help herself.

Agent Wiley glances over at her and back to the road a few times. “I can understand why you’d ask that. And I also realize that I haven’t thanked you for taking this assignment. It was a hard one to staff.”

Scully scoffs and turns to face the other woman. “I wasn’t given a choice, Agent Wiley.”

“Right. Sorry. Um, the reason I couldn’t take this assignment is that I have an ostomy bag, as a result of a pretty severe case of Crohn’s. I doubt anyone wants to see a stripper with a bag of poop strapped to her belly dancing around on stage.”

Scully closes her eyes against the shame that wells in her gut. “I’m sorry, Agent Wiley. That was rude of me to ask.”

“Don’t worry about it, Agent Scully. Honestly, I’d take my ostomy bag over this assignment any day. I don’t envy you.”

Scully turns back to the window, spinning up the life story of Diane Sellers as they drive on through the early morning light and towards her uncertain future.

Agent Wiley drops her off around the corner from her apartment with nothing but a set of keys and verbal instructions for where she can locate the burner phone. Her interview is today at 2, and the address of the club and interview information are on a slip of paper on the kitchen counter. They bid one another an awkward goodbye, and Scully goes in search of her home for the next several weeks.

The apartment is small, a studio, and fully furnished. She can tell that Agent Wiley herself took care of decorating it; youthful touches like a sequined throw pillow and a magnet on the fridge with “Diane” printed on a tiny license plate give it a dorm-like feel. Many of the items appeared to have been thrifted, which will be important to keeping up her ruse of being a woman in a tight spot financially. She locates the air duct and the burner phone, turning it on to be sure it works before securing it back in its hiding place. She pokes around the various cabinets and cupboards to find all kinds of dried goods and snacks, and is surprised by the 6 pack of beer in the fridge and the bottle of vodka in the freezer. The closet is full of clothing in her size, some of it basic jeans and tees, some of it tube tops and daisy duke shorts that she would never wear. Well, Scully would never wear them, but she suspects Diane would. The slip of paper on the counter reads:

Damsels in Dominance

1634 W York St, Philly

Ricky Dean, 2pm

She makes a face at the name and her stomach turns at the thought that this might be some kind of S&M club. It's just after 9am, so she has quite a bit of time to kill before her interview. She doesn’t think she’ll be able to sleep, so instead she takes a thorough inventory of all the cabinets and closets to see if anything important is missing. In the bathroom, she opens the medicine cabinet to find a full Oil of Olay skin care line right next to a box of condoms. What the hell does Agent Wiley think she has planned for this assignment? Her confusion deepens when she pulls open the drawer of the bedside table and is greeted by a book light as well as a small bullet vibrator. Either Agent Wiley went to very great lengths to make sure this apartment would pass the sniff test for anyone who decided to snoop, or….she doesn’t even know what the other possibility is. Adding some paperback novels to her mental shopping list, she slams the drawer shut and flops down on the bed. Mulder is at work by now, and she wonders how long Skinner will be able to keep up the ruse. Knowing Mulder, not all that long.

Mulder arrives at work just past 8, noting that Scully’s car is parked in her typical spot in the garage; she must have needed to stop by before heading to Quantico. He’s a little bit disappointed that she’ll be away for the next few weeks; the basement office is exceedingly boring without her. At the same time, he’s grateful for a bit of space to think.

The tension between them had reached a tipping point but now sits suspended, teetering between coworkers and friends or whatever lay on the other side. He’s made some attempts at pushing things towards the “more than friends” end of the spectrum, but nothing seems to come of it. He kissed her, and while she kissed him back and seemed receptive to it, she hasn’t initiated anything further. The night they played baseball together was fun and flirtatious, but again nothing happened. He’s getting the sense that any move will need to be made by him. Maybe Scully just isn’t the forward type in these situations, or maybe she isn’t confident enough that he’ll reciprocate. This time that she’s working away from the office might be the perfect opportunity to take her out on a real date, knowing that if things get weird they won’t have to face each other in the morning.

Entering the office, he doesn’t find her there; they must have just missed each other. He logs into his email and opens a new message.

Hey G-woman,

What time can you get away for lunch today? I was thinking about checking out that new sushi place on 8th. Or we can meet halfway, whatever works.

Would you like to get dinner sometime this week? My treat. Let me know.

Mulder

He hits send, then digs in to some more case reports that he needs to complete. He has a vision of Scully returning to find them completely caught up on paperwork and how pleased she’d be with him, and decides then and there to make it a reality. While he’s not generally an approval-seeking kind of guy, the surprised smile on Scully’s face when he does something uncharacteristically responsible is one of his favorites. The number one spot will always, of course, be held by the smile she gives him when he says or does something that truly strikes her as funny. He finds it hard to keep from smiling just thinking about it.

Two hours later, there’s no response from Scully. That’s a little bit weird, but not exceedingly so; if she’s working on a particularly gnarly autopsy it can take quite a while. When he still hasn’t gotten a response by noon, he first checks his sent email to be sure it went out, then picks up his office phone.

“Autopsy bay, this is Richard.”

“Hey, Rich, this is Agent Mulder up at the Hoover Building.”

“Hi, Agent Mulder, how can I help you?”

“Is Agent Scully around? I was hoping to talk to her.”

“No, I haven’t seen her.”

“Not at all today?”

“No, I haven’t seen her in a few weeks, actually.”

A flush of worry spreads across his chest.

“Hey, Rich, are you guys pretty busy down there? I hear you have a big case you’re working on.”

“Busy? Uh, no, not really. Just business as usual.”

“Okay, thanks. If you see Agent Scully, will you ask her to call me?”

“Sure, will do, Agent Mulder.”

“I appreciate it, bye.”

He sets the phone down and sits back in his chair. Did Scully lie to him? And if so, why? Her car is here, so he knows she came in today. Picking up the phone again he tries her cell, which goes straight to voicemail. The darkest part of his brain worries that she came to the office but never made it to Quantico. He makes one final phone call.

“Skinner.”

“Hi, sir, this is Agent Mulder.”

“How can I help you, Agent Mulder?”

“Have you heard from Agent Scully today? I’m having a hard time getting in touch with her.”

“She’s assigned to work at Quantico for the next few weeks, Agent Mulder, she wasn’t expected to report to the Hoover Building today.”

“I know, sir, but her car was in the garage when I got here and I just called over to Quantico and they haven’t seen her today. I’m a little worried.”

He hears Skinner mutter what sounds like “Jesus H Christ” under his breath before he speaks again. “Agent Scully is fine, Agent Mulder. She’s on assignment. I encourage you to focus on your own assignment.”

Mulder hesitates. “Should I take that to mean that she’s NOT assigned to Quantico?”

Skinner sighs. “All you need to know is that she is fine, but unreachable. You worry about yourself and let me worry about Agent Scully, got it?”

“Um, okay. Thank you, sir.”

He hangs up the phone even more confused than before. Scully’s behavior yesterday after she returned from Skinner’s office makes a little more sense; she was uncomfortable about lying to him. When he leaves the office that night, her car is in the same spot it had been that morning. He doesn’t like this, but he knows Scully was in the same situation when he was on an undercover assignment and he should just trust her, and Skinner, and wait it out. That’s easier said than done, and he spends his entire evening imagining all the dangerous situations she might be immersed in. Drug cartels, amateur mafias, cults, hackers, the list goes on and on. He can only hope that she’s safe.

Damsels in Dominance is an unassuming building nestled between strip malls and fast food restaurants. The parking lot and entrance are at the back of the building, a fabric-draped chain link fence surrounding it for privacy. Scully pays the cab driver, though now that she realizes how close her apartment is to the place she’ll probably just walk back. After much deliberation, she wound up wearing jeans and a blue T shirt, guessing that it would be out of place to dress up for an interview at a strip club. She pulls the front door open and finds herself in a small foyer with a counter along one wall, a hulking man perched behind it on a stool. Even seated she can tell that he’s very tall, with a broad chest and square shoulders. His neck is nearly nonexistent, thick and disappearing into the rolls under his chin like a tree trunk. His head is shaved bald and his deeply tan skin shows evidence of long ago healed acne scars on his ruddy cheeks. A small gold name tag pinned to his T-shirt reads “Denny.”

“Hi, I’m Diane, I’m here for an interview with Ricky,” she says with a smile. She’s decided that Diane will be the kind of person with an easy smile. The kind of person who makes friends quickly. She channels her sister Melissa, who would talk to anyone and somehow have them sharing details of their childhood trauma within fifteen minutes. If she’s going to get these people talking, she needs to be more like Missy and less like herself.

Denny nods with a grunt and stands, proving himself to be at least six inches taller than Mulder; her head barely reaches his waist. He comes around the counter to push open a second door and holds it for her, motioning her to follow. They enter one end of a long hallway, a door directly in front of them labeled “Enter Here to be Dominated.” They walk down the hall, past some restrooms and several other unmarked doors, until they come to one that says “office.” Denny knocks and a small woman answers.

“Diane, 2 o’clock interview,” Denny says in a flat baritone, then turns and walks away.

[atths--twice]

Moving right along...

Chapter Five      5/8

Dinner and Decisions 

Mulder takes Scully on a “date” and they enjoy their time together.

Mulder knocked on Scully’s door, feeling a little nervous. He had asked her to dinner and he was not sure if he made it sound like a “date” or just dinner. He would take either, but he did not want to push her or imply anything untoward. He had considered getting flowers, but then thought that would be too much.

So there he stood, heart pounding, waiting for her to answer. Hoping it might be a date, but not unless she wanted it also.

The door opened and he was hit with a wave of Scully scent. All of everything at once- her hair, her soap, her perfume. It was overpowering and nearly dropped him to his knees.

“Sorry. I’m running a little behind. I was doing laundry earlier and then I took a bath. I sat down for just a minute and woke up still in a towel. My hair was all over the place from sleeping on it when it was wet, so it’s been a bit of a process to get ready on time,” she said in a rush as she quickly opened the door and turned back inside, putting her earrings in as she turned back to look at him.

“Sorry, Scully. I heard the words-bath, towel, and wet. Did you say something else?” he asked as he hung up his jacket, closed the door, and turned to her with a smile, which quickly changed to an open mouthed quiet gasp.

She looked beautiful. She always did, but tonight she was even more so. She was wearing a dark green dress that was casual, but also dressy. It had short sleeves, a few small buttons that went across to her left side so it seemed to wrap around her, and the bottom was fuller than her usual business skirts.

None of this was anything though, compared to all the flesh looking at him, notably the chest flesh. It was more open than any shirt she had ever worn and he was treated to more cleavage than he had ever seen from her. Aside from the dire moments when he had seen her naked, he had never seen so much of her skin. He would need all his willpower to not stare directly at her chest.

This was going to be hard. In all aspects.

“Ha ha,” she said, as she finally got her earrings in, and adjusted her dress. Seeing him looking at her, she smoothed it again. “Is it too much? I bought this dress awhile back, and I’ve never worn it. You said dressed up, so I figured this would be a good chance to wear it. I can change if it’s-“

“No!” He cut across her and she looked at him in surprise. “No, Scully. You look great. It’s a beautiful dress. You make it look beautiful,” he said in a calmer, sincere tone.

She gave him a look before saying thank you. She turned and went into her room and he was left alone with his racing heart. Jesus, he needed to calm the hell down. This was just them having dinner, like they had done thousands of times. Perhaps a bit more dressed up, but still just dinner.

Her feet padded softly across the floor as she came back into the room with a necklace in one hand and her shoes in the other.

“This necklace has a catch on it that is hard to close, and open for that matter, so I don’t wear it often. Could you see if you could do it for me? I think it would look nice with this dress,” she asked, as she set her shoes down and walked over to him.

“Sure,” he said, taking the necklace from her as she turned around.

He fumbled a bit with the clasp, but finally got it open. He placed it over her head and then worked to put it back together. He had to try a couple of times to get it closed, and he could have blamed the clasp, but that was not the only hold up. He was distracted by her scent, her nearness, and the small scar on the back of her neck.

He was not often in this position, with free rein to stare directly at her neck, and be this close to her in this way. He felt such guilt about that scar and what lay beneath it, the cause and reason for it. He wanted to kiss that scar and make it all better, to take back all the bullshit she had gone through as a result of it. He hated himself for her suffering. She did not deserve any of it

Finally the necklace clasp was closed and he was forced to step back. “There you go,” he said quietly, still feeling that guilt.

She touched it, turning toward him, and smiling her thanks. It was a beautiful necklace. A silver chain with small diamonds leading to one slightly bigger one in the middle.

“My father gave this to me, when I graduated from medical school. I love it, but it’s too fancy for everyday. Seemed like a good choice for tonight, though,” she told him with a smile, running her fingers across the diamonds.

He watched her do it, looking at the necklace, but also noticing her chest again. He needed to stop or this would be a very long night. He looked away and imagined those revolting flukeman bites until he had calmed down.

She had put on her shoes and grabbed her jacket by the time he glanced back at her. She gave him an odd look as she put her jacket on and walked over to him.

“Ready?” she asked him with a smile. He nodded, grabbed his jacket, and they headed out the door.

They drove down toward the waterfront in Georgetown and Mulder parked the car. Walking down closer to the boardwalk plaza, Mulder started to lead her toward the restaurants with a hand on the small of her back, but she stopped walking and looked at him.

“Mulder,” she said, looking at the restaurants around them. “These places are so expensive. I... thank you for everything you’ve done the last few days, but we don’t need to go anywhere too expensive. I... honestly, Mulder...” She looked at him beseechingly.

“Scully, no, we aren’t eating in any of these places,” he said with a wave of his hand. “No. They are nice, but they are expensive and I have something better planned.” At her surprised look, he smiled at her. “I invited you out to dinner. You think I don’t have a plan?”

She smiled and laughed softly, as she reached out and linked her arm through his. He continued smiling as he looked down at her before stepping forward and continuing to the restaurant he had chosen.

Just past the big fancy restaurants by the waterfront, there was a smaller Greek restaurant. Close by the water, but not in the prime location. Mulder pushed the door open and ushered Scully inside. He walked up to the podium and told the hostess his name, as he hung his jacket on the coat rack.

“Fox freaking Mulder!” Came a cry from across the room.

A woman came rushing up and crushed Mulder in an embrace, adding a kiss on each cheek. She had dark hair, laughing eyes, and a beautiful smile.

“Hello, Nia. How are you?” he asked as she held his face in her hands, and he saw Scully smiling as she let him go.

“Oh my god! It’s been ages since I’ve seen you! I saw your name on the reservation list, and I about screamed Ma’s ear off. How are you? Last we heard you were working for the FBI? Are you still working there?” She stepped back and grabbed his hands.

Mulder smiled as he looked back at her. He squeezed her hands and then dropped them as he turned toward Scully, gesturing to her and she stepped toward Nia.

“Yes, I have been working at the bureau for awhile now. Nia, this is my partner at the FBI, Dana Scully. Scully, this is Nia Costas. We grew up together in Chilmark. This is her family’s restaurant,” Mulder said by way of introduction.

Scully and Nia shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. Nia then grabbed some menus and led them to the table, laughing and telling stories about Mulder when he was younger, that made him blush and Scully laugh.

The table where they sat down, had a wonderful view of the water. Scully looked at it approvingly as she sat and took the menu from Nia. Nia told them their server would be right out, winked at Mulder, and walked away.

Scully raised an eyebrow at him as she smiled, but he shook his head. There had never been anything more than friendship between them. Although, he'd had a boyish crush on her when he was younger.

“Nia was one of my friends when I was younger. She was a killer baseball player and could run faster than any kid I knew,” he said, smiling as he remembered those days.

“Mr. Fox Mulder! Look at you, so grown up!” A woman, who could only be Nia’s mother, called loudly as she came bustling up to the table and Mulder stood up to greet her.

She was a large woman with pillowy arms and big hair. She grabbed Mulder in a tight embrace and then kissed him as Nia had, leaving two large red lipstick kisses on each cheek, causing Scully to laugh. She held his face in her hands as she looked at him and inquired about his family, work, and his life. He answered as best he could as she fired her rapid questions at him.

She turned her attention to Scully and Mulder introduced them. Mrs. Costas pulled Scully into an embrace as she had stood to greet her as well. Mulder laughed at her help me face as she was all but smothered by the larger woman.

She told them to sit and she looked at Mulder and smiled. She grabbed his chin and told him how proud she was of him. Mulder’s smushed face made Scully giggle and he felt her happiness invade his heart.

Mrs. Costas finally let him go and told them anything they wanted was on the house. Mulder tried to argue with her, but she put her hand up, took their menus, and walked away.

“I guess we’re getting whatever she brings us,” Mulder said, as he rubbed his aching jaw and wiped his lipstick covered face.

Scully laughed again and looked out at the water, Mulder following her gaze as he watched a few of the boats gliding past. Scully took off her jacket and put it on her chair behind her, leaned forward, and looked out the window again. Mulder glanced back once, then twice, trying to keep his eyes off of all the Scully flesh now presented to him.

Just then, the server came up and brought them some food; a Greek salad which they both enjoyed. Then came some meatballs, lamb, and then steak. It was delicious and they ate their fill. Scully not quite as much as Mulder, but if the sounds she made were any indication, she enjoyed the dishes.

After they had finished their food, they asked for a coffee. When Mrs. Costa walked up to check on them, Mulder told Scully about the delicious baklava she used to make. She waved him down and told him to stop, but they could she she was pleased. She squeezed his face again, thanking him for the compliment. She disappeared into the kitchen and personally brought them a huge piece of her homemade baklava to share, along with their coffee. It was as delicious as he remembered and he fought Scully for the last bite.

There was a small band playing in the back of the restaurant and after they had finished their meal, Mulder asked Scully if she would like to head back and listen to them. She said she would rather walk around the plaza, and he nodded, agreeing it would be nice.

They said goodbye to the Costas, Mulder being hugged and kissed within an inch of his life. They hugged Scully goodbye as well and Mrs. Costas gave Mulder pointed looks over her shoulder. He smiled back, putting on his jacket as he said goodbye again, and Scully put her jacket on as well.

The night air was cooler than the restaurant had been and to Mulder it felt wonderful. It had felt overly warm to him in the restaurant. Scully seemed to feel the same as she took deep breaths and fanned her jacket a few times. She grinned at him, as he offered her his arm, and she took it as they headed for the boardwalk and started walking.

“So... how long did you have a crush on Nia?” Scully asked after they had walked in silence for awhile and he chuckled.

“Probably about... a year? When I was around eleven. I don’t think I really knew what it was until I was older, but it was definitely a crush. She was fun and happy and her home was the same way. My home was the opposite. I liked going over to her place after we had all been out running around during the day as there was always a lot of people, food, and that baklava... God. I used to dream of that stuff at night.”

She laughed quietly. “The food was definitely delicious. Although, it technically was free and by dinner invite standards, I think you still owe me a meal." She stopped walking and stepped away from him. She leaned against a railing, looking out at the water, crossing her arms.

“Is that right?” he asked, as he too leaned against the railing, looking at her and smiling.

“I mean, you invited me out, yet you didn’t pay for the meal. Ergo, you still seem to be on the negative side of things,” she said, as she glanced at him, shrugging her shoulders, trying to stifle a smile.

“Hmmm,” he said, reaching up and rolling his bottom lip between his finger and thumb. “If I buy you some ice cream later, will that be good enough to shut you up?”

“It might,” she said with a thoughtful look on her face as she lost the battle and smiled at him.

He nodded, dropping his hands to his sides, then locking his hands in front of him, as he looked out at the moon shining in the water. He looked back at her as she continued to look at him.

He shook his head and then looked away from her. “Scully, I’m so sorry this didn’t work,” he said quietly, as he kept his eyes on the water, unable to look her in the eyes. “I wanted it for you so badly. Something good to come from all this bullshit. A good thing born of the bad. I just-“

“Mulder, no. Let’s… I don’t want talk about it anymore. It won’t change anything and... it just... it creates a hurt where it’s not needed." She rested her head against his shoulder and looked at the water. “We tried. We did what we could.” She shifted and stood up straight, touching his arm and he turned toward her. She looked him in the eyes and reached for his hand.

“I... I don’t expect a miracle. I know that it’s improbable, but... I was able to see a way to get my faith back, at least a little. I have that to lean on and for that I am thankful. For my faith... and you." She squeezed his hand and he turned his hand, causing their fingers to intertwine. “You’ve helped in so many ways and I am truly thankful for that, Mulder. I’m the one who should be taking you to dinner,” she said with a teary eyed smile.

“Hmm. Meet halfway and call it even?” he asked with a squeeze to her hand, as he stroked her cheek with the other.

“Throw in that ice cream you promised and you got a deal,” she said, wiping her eyes.

“As long at it’s not that tofutti rice shit, I’m in,” he said, shaking his head, taking his hand from her face.

She laughed with a nod and he nodded back as he grinned at her. He turned and started walking again, keeping a hold of her hand as they walked around the plaza for awhile, before heading to the ice cream shop.

When they walked in, they found it was quite packed for a Monday evening. They waited in line and ordered, each getting a cup. Scully seemed to regret her choice, and Mulder assured her they could share.

Wanting to avoid the crowded shop, they went back outside and found a bench along the plaza and sat down. They ate in silence, Scully stealing so many little bites of his ice cream, he finally switched with her and she smiled her thanks at him.

When they were finished, they drove back to her place. She invited him up and he accepted. Walking in, he took off his jacket and reached to help her take off her own. She asked him to open a bottle of wine while she used the bathroom. Walking back to him, she asked him to first help take off her necklace.

He reached for the clasp again as she turned her back to him, and he fumbled with it the same as before. This time, when he accidentally grazed her neck, he saw her shiver. He did it again, purposely, and she exhaled a very light moan. The necklace finally popped open and he caught it. Sliding it around her neck to hand to her, he felt her lean back into him, and he had to work hard at not moaning.

She stepped forward and clasped her necklace, her eyes burning into his as she turned around. She was breathing hard, he could see her chest rising and falling. He felt the fire that had started when she opened the door, and had continued to burn all evening, now threatening to reduce him to ashes.

He saw her eyes flick to his mouth and his heart pounded. Danger lights were flashing in his mind and he knew he needed to step back. This was not the time, not now. Not after the last couple of days.

"Red or white?” he asked in a rough voice, stepping back as he cleared his throat and waited for her answer.

“What?” she asked, confused as she tore her eyes from his mouth.  

“The wine, Scully. Do you want red or white?” He knew it was a poor excuse, a way to push back, but he was terrified. Terrified she would regret pushing past anything other than the friendship they shared. If she did... Jesus, it would break him.

“Oh,” she said, with surprise, as if she had forgotten she had asked him to open a bottle. She sighed and looked down, her shoulders seemed to slump a little. “Whichever one, Mulder. I don’t really have a preference.” She turned to leave and he shook his head. God, he was such a fucking coward.

“Would you rather I made some tea?” he asked her.

She turned and looked him right in the eye, shaking her head as she stared at him. “No, Mulder. I think we could both really use a drink,” she said as she held his gaze and then walked into the bathroom.

Shit. His heart had stopped, and then exploded at a pace he had never experienced. He almost tripped as he tried to hurry and get to the kitchen to open the wine before she came back into the room.

He picked a red, quickly pulled the cork, and poured them each a generous glass. He brought them to the coffee table, waiting on the couch for her, as his heart threatened to jump out of his chest.

She came back into the room a few minutes later. She had taken off her shoes and she tucked her feet under her as she sat on the couch. He leaned forward, picked up their glasses, and handed hers to her. She nodded her thanks as she took a big drink. He followed suit and then they sat without speaking for awhile.

He felt his ears ringing, sure she could hear the blood pumping through his veins. He saw her take another drink out of the corner of his eye and he also took another drink, shifting a little closer to her.

He put his arm on the back of the couch, and lightly touched her neck, moving his fingers in small circles. She closed her eyes at his touch and he felt her relax into it. The wine settling in her belly, combined with his touch, seemed to bring her a peaceful feeling.

She leaned into him more and sighed. Her eyes opened slowly and she stared at him differently than she ever had before, and he felt his body respond everywhere. It was too much. He needed to leave before things went too far and they could not go back.

He moved his hand, set down his glass, and got up to leave. She stood too, quickly setting her glass down, and followed him. She caught him at the door and she placed her hand on his arm causing him to turn and look at her.

“Mulder…” she whispered, her hand sliding down off of his arm.

He stared at her, his hands itching to touch her. To hold her face. To kiss her. He swallowed as best he could when his mouth was so dry.

She held his stare as he fought an inner battle. His need to touch her won out and he placed his hand on her cheek, his thumb grazing across it. She closed her eyes at his touch and exhaled. He stared at her, amazed anew at how truly beautiful she was. His heart pounded hard and his breathing increased.

She opened her eyes and they were like a magnet, pulling him in. He leaned forward, but then pulled back. Goddamn. They had been there before, in this uncertain place. In front of the invisible line they never seemed to be able to cross. Unwilling to give in to what they wanted and scared of revealing how they truly felt. He felt the sinking feeling of disappointment that they would never get there because they could never take that risk. Risking the partnership they had scared the shit out of him. He took a step back and dropped his hand from her cheek.

As he did, she stepped forward, staring at him for seconds that felt like a lifetime. Then, she grabbed the front of his shirt in both hands, pulled him to her, and kissed him.

Kissed him hard. Crushing her lips to his, keeping a firm grip on his shirt, giving him no chance to flee.

_______________________________________________

Oh... here we go! These two.. They always have to fight that inner battle of what they should do when it comes to their feelings. Scully just stepped up and showed her hand. Time to get this party started...

Also, I had watched My Big Fat Greek Wedding while I was writing this and I picture that entire family in the restaurant of this story. I love that movie, it is so sweet and crazy and loud. It’s beautiful.

[danadeservesadrink]

The Trouble With Expectations

My entry for the second week of the Fic is Medicine challenge. I’m probably going to write a sequel for this but ill just post the first part for now. Hope this brings some happiness to your day.

Rated G @xfficchallenges

She honestly doesn’t know what she expected.

No, she expected him there. He was supposed to come pick her up, sweep her up off her feet and carry her home, or at least carry her bag. But he wasn’t there. She scanned the waiting area three times at least, looking for his tall stature and goofy smile.

Where was he?

Had she forgotten to call? No, she had made sure to leave him a voicemail. Two, actually. One saying that she had gotten on the airport and one saying she was on the plane and would be home in 2 hours. Why didn’t he answer her?

Why does she even care?

It’s not like he’s her boyfriend. It’s not like he has any obligation to pick her up. It’s just that he’d always done so. Whenever she had late flights like this, he’d just… picked her up. Like there was nothing to it. The first one she hadn’t even had to ask. She had mentioned offhand on the phone that she had a late flight and was coming in around 1 am. When she got off the plane, he was there waiting for her.

You can’t expect me to let you catch a cab at this hour Scully. You could fall asleep and end up in some back ally somewhere. You never know the kind of vagrants that walk the streets at 1 am

And what about you Mulder? How do I know you’re not going to take me into an ally somewhere?

Because Scully, I… am not a vagrant. I know how to treat my women.

She had fallen asleep in the car on the ride home, and he had practically carried her upstairs to her room. He had done it again and again, every time she’d come home, even during the day, he had been there. And now here she was, at 12 am and she seemed to be the only one without someone to pick her up.

Does she miss him?

She couldn’t possibly. She would just catch a cab, lug her own bags and go home. She’d call him the next day. Wonder where he was and then pretend, she wasn’t bothered when he inevitably apologized. He would see her at work the next day with her regular coffee order and they would pretend nothing is wrong.

But was there even anything wrong?

Yes. Something was wrong. He was supposed to be here. He was supposed to be carrying her bags to his car and making stupid jokes to cheer her up and asking her if she knows any good places to eat at 1 in the morning but god dammit, he wasn’t here, why wasn’t he here?

She was mad. Mad at him for abandoning her like this, for making her take a cab home, for everything he’d done to her. He was the one that was supposed to look after her, to care for her, to make sure she was never alone and he promised. He promised he’d keep her safe and he couldn’t even show up to the god damn airport to pick her up. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she’d been misjudging this relationship… this arrangement. What if he thought someone else would just come get her if he didn’t come? What if he didn’t care?

Why was this making her so upset?

She knew why. She knew as she wiped the tears from her eyes before they could fall and grabbed the handle of her bag to prepare to lug that and her even heavier suitcase out the door to the taxi waiting area. She jumped when she felt two hands on her shoulders, spinning around with a fist ready to attack when she stopped.

“Jesus Scully you wouldn’t hit your ride home, would you?”

She breathed a sigh of relief, registering the face of her partner, the one she had just been so upset with seconds ago. She followed through with the fist, aiming for the shoulder instead of his face.

“Where in the hell where you?”

He winced, rubbing his shoulder and backing up slowly.

“I went to the bathroom, I though your flight was getting in in ten minutes.”

He rolled his shoulder and finally looked at her face, registering the tear streaks and her flushed complexion. “Scully what’s wrong?” He stepped closer to her attempting to grab her hand, but she pulled away.

“I thought… you … I thought you didn’t show” she whispered. She didn’t know why but couldn’t stop the tear from falling down her cheek.

“Scully of course I showed. Why did you think I hadn’t?” She didn’t answer. Just let more tears fall. He grabbed for her hand again, and she let him. “Scully I’ll always come get you”

She didn’t answer. Just lunged forward and grabbed his face and kissed him as hard as she could. He was shocked. So shocked he didn’t move for seconds, hands still outstretched and eyes wide open before he registered what had happened. She pulled back, releasing his face and turning to grab her bag and striding off in the direction of the parking exit. He didn’t move for another few seconds until he came out of the shock, grabbed her other bag and ran after her. Neither of them chose to comment on the small smile lingering on her face when he caught up with her.