#special agent dana scully

[scientific-explanations]

Scully: quick! You're losing a lot of blood, what's your type? Mulder: redhead, blue eyes, likes science, shorty, FBI agent, works in forensics— Scully, blushing inevitably, rolling her eyes: your blood type, Mulder.

[nerds-yearbook]

On December 24, 1998, Special Agent Fox Mulder relunctantly convinced his partner Dana Scully to go with him into a haunted house on Christmas Eve by stealing her car keys. The ghosts (played by Ed Asner and Lily Tomlin) were of a couple who died in a murder suicide pact in 1917. The episode had only four characters making it the smallest cast in the series until the revival. (how the ghosts stole christmas)

[spidey-is-tired]

Is it purely platonic to call me like, every night?

Summary: Mulder has a nightmare and calls Scully in the middle of the night for help.

Wordcount: 770

You can also read here!

A/N: 'sup! this is my first fic in this fandom and therefore it might not be brilliant yet but practice and all that I was rewatching s1 while writing so this may kinda have s1 vibes/be influenced by that yes the title is from a conan grey song but i just saw it on pinterest and the line reminded me of them

Her phone was ringing.

Her phone was ringing and she was going to kill him.

Scully moved her head slightly, fumbling for her phone before bringing it to her ear, “I’m going to kill you.” She hadn’t even found the motivation to open her eyes yet, but she knew she was going to kill him. A small laugh came from him on the other side of the phone, a little crackly but him all the same.

“I mean it Mulder, if this is an x-file, at—” She paused, finally cracking her eyes open to see her clock, red numbers staring her in the face, 2:47 almost burning her eyes in the inky blackness of her bedroom, “at quarter-to-three in the morning, then I’m going to kill you even more.”

“It isn’t an x-file,” He promised, pausing with a small yawn that she almost recognized from cases. It was the little suppressed yawn, where he didn’t want to reveal how tired he truly was, where he only wanted to keep talking to her about anything in particular, rather than falling asleep.

“Mulder, we have work in about five hours. Is there any way this can wait until we’re in the office?” She rubbed her eyes, letting them fall shut again after a moment. She knew he wouldn’t be talking about anything too important or work-related, or that if it was, he’d bring it up again once they were in the office.

There was a pause almost long enough where if it was any other person she’d assume they’d fallen back asleep, however this was Mulder. “Yeah, we can talk tomorrow.” Scully could hear a small smile in his voice, she could hear the odd shift in his voice.

The pause lasted longer this time, neither of them hung up, even though a sense of finality seemed to come with Mulder’s words.

“What’s going on?” Her voice stayed simple and quiet. Every night since she’d gotten home he’d found some reason to call her, some reason to show up at his apartment. She hadn’t brought it  up—neither of them had—she’d assumed it would settle and she found no need for the awkward conversation if there was no point to it.

However now it was almost 3am again, and she was so close to dozing again, lay sideways and letting her phone balance on her ear carefully so that she could remain curled up under her duvet and cozy and she needed to know what was going on with him, so that they could both finally get some rest.

“What d’ya mean?”

She knew he was likely on his couch—she didn’t think he actually even used that bed of his—and that there was a high probability that he hadn’t even changed from his work clothes.

“Mulder,” She said, almost forcing a more stern tone in her voice, hoping that further poking would get him to actually speak to her. “You know what I mean, talk to me or I’m going back to sleep.” She knew that he likely knew that was an empty threat, she didn’t care though. There was the possibility she was going to fall asleep by accident anyway on the phone to him.

Silence rang out again.

“I needed to know you were still here.” The simplicity of the statement hung heavier than anything he could’ve said and it clicked.

“I’m here.” She said, her voice returning to the more gentle tone, “I’m not going anywhere, Mulder.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” She repeated. “But I am hoping to go to sleep, however, if it’s any comfort to you, I can leave the phone on until you fall asleep. So you know I’m still here,” She suggested.

“You don’t have to Scully, I don’t mind leaving you to sleep. It was stupid and I know you’re okay—I know you’re there.” He sounded almost defensive.

“I know, but just so you can sleep.” She argued, despite having absolutely no energy to argue and hoping that he was also tired enough that he’d simply cave. He’d been plagued with nightmares as long as he knew her—probably longer—but since her abduction he seemed to be barely sleeping—if at all. She wasn’t certain this could help, but she got the feeling this would ease his worries at least slightly.

“You sure you’ll be able to sleep too?”

“If I can’t, I will hang up on you.”

“Alright,” He laughed slightly and softly, “Goodnight, Scully.”

“Goodnight, Mulder.”

She focused on his soft breathing on the other end of the line as she peacefully drifted back to sleep.

[ziggyrette]

✨a little about me✨

Name? → Isa / Ziggy

Age? → 17 😅

Pronouns? → she / her

Sexuality? → bi??!???!???!??

Empty blogs = instant blocking

If you're an 18+ acc or a bot (any kind of bot) = instant blocking

Pro-choice

✨where you can find me✨

Wattpad → -ziggyrette

Pinterest → panempins

Instagram → _ziggyrette_

✨music taste✨

David Bowie

Queen

The Beatles

Janet Jackson

Michael Jackson / The Jackson 5

Trying to get into Amy Winehouse 🤪

✨sideblogs✨

@applehead-verse (anything Michael Jackson / Jackson 5 related)

@scientific-explanations (The X-Files)

@lettersfrompanem (The Hunger Games)

@across-the-beatles-verse (The Beatles)

@queen-verse (Queen)

@wheresmyteaneil (The Young Ones)

✨fav books✨

Labyrinth

The Dark Crystal

The Hunger Games trilogy

Abaddon's Gate

✨fav movies✨

Labyrinth

The Dark Crystal

The Hunger Games series

Jesus Christ Superstar

✨fav series✨

The X-Files

Cunk on Earth

The Dark Crystal (Age of Resistance)

✨OTPs✨

Mulder × Scully (MSR)

Bowie × Jagger (Dick Bagger)

Bowie × Tina

Katniss × Peeta (Everlark)

Haymitch × Effie (Hayffie)

Secret dashboard only for blogs you're subscribed to

[samblackblog]

Chapter 1

⎔ MASTERLIST ⎔ REQUESTS ⎔ X FILES ⎔ I WANT TO BELIEVE ⎔

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings:

A/N: Wrote these years ago, hope someone enjoys

▪️Chapter 2 →

—————

Tonight was a late and exhausting night. I was up most of it with Mulder finishing a case, all the evidence needed, we had. We caught the suspect, who then killed themselves with a cyanide capsule. The evidence was incriminating, we had enough to blow this whole thing wide open, to show that this man was working for our Government; which has been hiding and experimenting on Aliens and extraterrestrial life for years. As I said, the truth will be out there by mid-afternoon tomorrow. Mulder and I have a meeting with Assistant Director Skinner tomorrow; it's time for him to believe. Believe in UFO's and extraterrestrial life. Therefore I should get some rest, I've got a big day ahead, and I hope that Mulder gets some sleep. The last time I saw him was in the office, I just hope he doesn't stay up all night, like he usually does. God he stresses me out, but where would I be without him? Probably stuck behind a desk waiting for my big break! I push the thoughts aside and wash what little make up I have on, off. The water splashes in the sink basin. Outside of the bathroom, I hear a floor board creek. I open the door quietly, and walk over to the aide board. I grab my gun, and walk through each room. Nothing. There's nothing, not a thing or a sound. Creek! It came from the kitchen. I hear it again, and the sound is followed by a draft of cold air. I peer into the kitchen; the window is open a little. I must have opened it for fresh air this morning. I close it, and hear the creek again. It came from behind me, I spin around and point my gun. Meow! 

"What are you doing cat?" I look into its big green eyes, and it meows. "you scared me, that's all.' I'm talking to a cat. Great! I suppose it's not as weird as some of Mulder's things. 

"What am I going to do with you?" I ask. 

I carry the cat to the front door, and it starts to rain. I feel bad about throwing it out into this weather. It's not just a shower, it's full on raining. Then a clap of lighting illuminates the street. 

"Just tonight." I say to the cat as I shut the door. I go to the bed room calling the cat, and peel back the duvet. I climb in and the cat follows. Before I turn the light off, I check for a tag. Nope. No tag. 

"I don't know if you even have a name, let alone a home." 

Meow! I stroke by its ear and under its chin. I fall asleep to the sound of the cat's deep purr.

Ring, ring! Ring, ring! Ring, ring! I'm still partially asleep when I hear the doorbell. No. Not the doorbell.

"It's the telephone!" I yell as I lean up in bed. The cat hisses after being startled by me. 

Ring, ring! I pick up the receiver and try to speak. my throats clammy, so I have to cough.

"Hello?" I manage.

"Scully, it's Mulder." I can sense the anger in his tone.

"What's up Mulder?" I ask. My pitch has gone up.

"They've taken it! All of it, down to the smallest piece of insignificant data." He throws something because I hear it hit the wall.

"Mulder calm down! What happened? What have they taken?" I try to calm myself for the inevitable. 

"They took the evidence. Scully it's all gone." he pauses for breath. "Not only did they take the evidence, but they have made us look like fools. Or rather, they will." 

I tell him to calm down, and I'll be right over.

I enter the Federal building at 8:30am. Early but I need to see Mulder. After all this case has cost, all the hours it took. It's worse for him, he's devoted half his life for chasing UFO's and extraterrestrial life, and how much evidence has he got? Zilch. Nada. Naught. Not anything more than a blurry photograph that could be a fake. I make my way down the corridors an show my ID. Then down a few more corridors, and finally to the basement. I knock on the door, no reply. I knock again. I reach for the Handle as someone opens the door. 

"Didn't you hear me Mulder?" I'm curious as to why he didn't answer.

"Yeah, I just thought it was one of those polite knocks you do to announce yourself. After all, this is as much your office as it is mine. So why knock?" He does that thing where he stares into your eyes trying to put things together, that or he hasn't slept yet. 

"I, er... I knocked in case you were on the phone, or chucking anything!" I half laugh. I can see a smile trying to break out on his face. 

"You wouldn't believe this, but they even erased the answer machine." he sounded like a moaning kid. However, he has a point. There was information on that.

"Can we ask for the tape back? I mean jut ask for the contact information of the deceased's family." I suggest. I don't know why I suggested this, because I know he would have already tried. 

"No. I tried that, I don't think..." he trails off. 

The next thing I know, he has me in a hug. I pat his back.

"Scully?" He sounds confused.

"Yeah?" 

"Why do you smell like cat?" He takes a deep breath. 

"Why are you smelling me?" I joke. "It's a long story." I can tell he wants to know. "I'll tell it anyway!" Yay. This is going to be annoying, it's not that interesting.

I finish telling him about the cat that I thought was an intruder, and he just laughs. I suppose it is funny. 

"I can't believe you thought the cat was an intruder. You even talked to it Scully." He started to chuckle. 

"Mulder, I don't think you would have done anything different. I can't help but feel that you're displeased." I sound very harsh, but if he thinks he can be critical of me, when he's spooky Mulder... then he has other thing coming.

"Displeased? Scully, why would you think that? After everything I have seen, you think talking to a cat is..." he's lost for the last word.

"Spooky?" I suggest.

He just nods and carries on chuckling. Sometimes I think he deserves the way he's treated, and should get called all the names. I remember the first time we met, it was a bit... strange.

"Agent Mulder. I'm Dana Scully. I've been assigned to work with you." I sounded confident.

"Oh, isn't it nice to be suddenly so highly regarded. So who did you tick off to get stuck with this detail, Scully?" his voice had a hint of sarcasm and patronisation. Like I was a kid getting lost and stuck in something that I shouldn't be involved with. I got the impression I was not welcome.

"Actually, I'm looking forward to working with you. I've heard a lot about you." I tried to show enthusiasm, but in all honesty I remember thinking he was spooky and possibly crazy to believe in UFO's. 

"Oh, really? I was under the impression that you were sent to spy on me." he looked at me, to see my reaction. Luckily I could control myself. 

He then went into showing me things that he thought were evidence of UFO and Extraterrestrial life. Fake. Was all I thought. I don't believe, I need scientific evidence to be able to believe. If only I knew what the future may hold, I would have believed right there and then.

I come to from the past, when Mulder grabs my shoulders. I can see he asked me a question, so I just say: "yes." even though I've no idea what he said. 

"So you agree that we should go take a naked mud bath together and paint each other with ancient symbols to get the aliens to visit. Good. I'm glad that's settled." he sounds quite real about that.

"Excuse me?" I ask with a slight note of worry. 

"Well I asked if we should do that and you said 'yes'!" he looks at me, wearing my 'I'm not amused' expression "alright, you caught me out! I really asked: are you all right? You looked like you were in a trance. Your face gave it away, you looked confused and disorientated, like you didn't know what happened and were trying to remember where you were." Again he looked at me to see if I was following. "I then guessed that you hadn't heard me, and just said what you thought." he finishes, then sighs. "You should work on controlling your facial expressions. They haven't become any better since the first day I met you, and you tried to hide the fact that you may be spying on me." his face lights up when he sees my new reaction. I'm dumbfounded.

Not sure what to do, so I say: "got any evidence to prove that nice theory Mulder?" I walk out to make coffee.

The machine gurgles as it prepares the coffee. I wait beside it, drumming my fingers on the work surface. A person walks into the room, and makes a tea on the other side of the room. I don't pay much attention to them, and don't see their face. On their way out, they walk into me; knocking me to the ground. I get up a notice a piece of paper on the floor beside me. It reads:

Twelve strikes and it will begin.

Twelve till twelve, deep down in the skin.

Hold your breath, see what you find.

You may prevent death or cause it to bind.

The machine finishes my coffee, but I go back without it. When I enter the office Mulder looks up from his desk.

"Where's the Coffee Scully? I assume that's what you went to get." I see his face turns from mocking to alarm in a manner of seconds. "What's wrong? Did you see Skinner?" He actually is panicking now.

I hold out the piece of paper. He takes the paper from me, and reads it. He looks at me with no understanding.

"Practising your poetry now?" He hands the note back.

"No. It's not mine. Well, I didn't write it." I pause for breath. What do I tell him? That an anonymous FBI agent gave this to me? I assume it was an FBI agent. "Mulder, when I made coffee... There was this person. I didn't see them, not really. Anyway they walked into me and disappeared. They left this note in my possession." I sit down, and try to piece this together. What could it mean? "Mulder, what do you think it means? Is it just a poem, or a warning?"

"I'm not sure, but it's a hell of a poem. Let's put it that way." 

I had the note checked for finger prints. The only ones on there are mine and Mulders. Whoever left it for me, sure knew what they were doing. I decide to go get some coffee, since I didn't have any the last time. This time the machine is quicker so I get Mulder one as well. I enter our office quietly because I hear talking. I find Mulder on his chair, eyes closed mumbling: "Twelve strikes and it will begin. Twelve till twelve, deep down in the skin. Hold your breath, see what you find. You may prevent death or cause it to bind." He pauses. Did he hear me? Then he starts again. "Hold your breath, see what you find... Hold your breath... Hold" He takes a deep breath and holds it in. 

"Mulder, what are you doing?" I say, with a note of amusement. 

He turns to me, eyes shut breath held in. His index finger is up signaling for me to give him a minute. He exhales loudly. 

"See what you find." he says while opening his eyes. "It's you Scully. I see you. That's what I found. You." he chuckles and folds the note up, which is then placed in his suit blazer pocket. I sigh and put the coffees down in front of him. I think he may be looking to much into this, and I tell him that.

"Scully, why would you have received this if it didn't mean anything? I think that this does mean something. I think something will happen, and it will happen very soon. This may help us 'prevent death', like it says." Is what I get back.

"Yes, and it also says 'or cause it to bind'. That could mean that death may take many more lives than one, if we interfere." I explain.

"Well, I'm not waiting around for something to happen." He says while turning in his chair and shutting his eyes. 

I go over to my desk and switch the computer on. I readjust my field report for the last case, but save it as a new file. This way skinner can read both a see what he thinks. We found a lot of evidence to suggest our hypothesis was correct, so maybe just the explanation of it in the report will convince him. It gets to mid-day.

"Mulder we need to go. Skinner is waiting." I quietly say, in case he's in thought.

"Mhmmm" is the answer I get. 

I send the two computer files to the printer on the fifth floor. We then walk up the stairs instead of using the elevator, both of us are trying to delay the meeting. 

When we get to the fifth floor I only find ones of the documents. Funnily enough, it's the edited one, written without mention of the stolen evidence. 

"Mulder I'll be back in a minute." I say as I walk to the elevator. I push the button for the basement, I get to the forth floor and seven people get in. Three want the ground floor, one needs the seventh and two need the eighth and the last one needs the fifth. I'm glad I got in before or I might be waiting a while. We stop at the ground floor, only need to go down a level. The elevator goes up.

"What?" I half breath out. 

That's not right, it should go down. I press the basement button again. We stop at the seventh, fifth then eighth before reaching the basement. Someone wanted to delay me, but why? Our office. They're in our office again. I run the rest of the way. I fling the door open, hoping to catch someone. No one's there, nothing I out of order. I'm paranoid. 

I'll have to print the file again.

"That's funny." 

The computers on. I'm sure I turned it off, probably forgot due to being in a rush. I look for the file. 

"Damnit!" I yell. It's gone, the file's gone. They've deleted it. There's nothing I can do, so I rejoin Mulder.

"The report with the evidence in has gone, even the computer file has gone." I say in a loud voice. People look up from their desks.

"We'll have to use this one." He talks slowly and quietly, like he thinks they're listening. I don't doubt that they are listening, the question is: who is listening? The people Deep Throat used to work for, before he was shot? Perhaps. Maybe this whole thing is bigger than we thought. I know we are in over our heads and there is no going back, we've seen too much. 

"Should we get to Skinner's office?" he asks. I nod. "After you" he teases and points ahead.

"What's next, I get to hold your arm?!" I joke back, as he actually offers his arm. Of course I brush it aside.

The smell of cigarette smoke fills the air, making it hard to breathe without coughing. As a doctor I know the damages it has to your health, so I turn my head away from Cigarette-smoking man. That's not his real name; but we don't know it, so we stick with the nickname. He despises us, we can tell from the numerous times he's worked against us. Or dropped us in trouble. A few months back the X-Files were shut down, when they were reinstated and Mulder and I could finally work together again, he wasn't happy. We later found out that he had done everything he could to keep us shut down. I guess you can't keep the truth hidden for ever. My thoughts are interrupted by Mulder, arguing with Skinner.

"Sir, I think we know what we saw. Can't you just believe us for once?" He stands up in his frustration and starts pacing. "We had the evidence to prove that UFO's exists, and that the Government has been experimenting with Alien viruses and technology." He sits again, hands on the arm rest of his chair. 

"Agent Mulder, where is this so called evidence?" Skinner patronisingly says.

I can tell Mulder is going to say something he will regret, so I step in.

"Sir, is it not good enough that we solved the case?" I interject.

"Agent Scully, it would be if Agent Mulder hadn't said about the missing evidence." He sighs.

Skinner has a point, it's one thing to have evidence stolen, it's another thing to accuse the Government of these actions. Although I too have my suspicions. Cigarette-smoking man comes over from the window and sets his carton of cigarettes on Skinners desk. He lights another after putting one out. 

"I think that's all" Skinner says.

As I get up my eyes are on the overflowing ash tray, and the cartoon of Cigarettes. I wonder how many he has a day? 

"Would you like one Agent Scully?" Cigarette-smoking man asks. A smile crosses his face, and yellowing teeth are revealed. He knows I hate smoking, probably knows I don't like him too. He'd the kind of man that would work for the secret secret Government organisation that stole the evidence and killed Deep Throat. I ignore him and walk out. I hear him chuckle before I make it out of the door. 

"Woah! Wait up Scully." Mulder yells. 

I face him while he catches up, then immediately start off again. He's by my side and follows me out of the building. We walk for a while before I stop in a park. 

"Perfect." I sigh.

People around, green grass, trees and not a federal agent in sight. I didn't come hear to relax. I want to scream and shout about the betrayal I feel from the bureau. I want to tell Mulder to give up chasing UFO's and E.B.E's, and to pursue a normal life that the government can't mess around with. What use is that? He will never give up. Not till he knows the truth. If only there was a way to find his sister. She was the start of this, when she was abducted at the age of eight. I want to help him, I do, but it feels useless even trying. Before I can say anything to Mulder, a gun is fired. The sound of screams and the tolling bell of midday hurts my ears. Where was the shot fired from? Who was the target? I turn to see, an old man fall to his knees. I hear the second shot. This time I see the bullet. I see it emerge from the other side of the old man's head.

[thedepartmentofdiscoveries]

[heatherbelart]

“𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺…”

Dana Scully, my favourite sceptic 🧡

I got so engrossed in this one I totally forgot to take any progress shots. Not sure if it’s my most cohesive colour palette but I’m still pleased with the likeness.

Painted on Procreate in digital oil paints laid on pastel board.

[violetharmonscds]

The truth is out there

[fox-mulderx]

[b1ue-harvest]

First Name Basis

FOX MULDER X GN READER

Author’s Note: OMG it’s been so long since I have written anything on here and I think it’s finally time to get back into it I’ve been obsessed with the X Files recently and had this cute idea late last night Enjoy!

You had known Mulder for about one month now after being assigned to the X files and had grown accustomed to his wild theories, sarcastic comments, and the dingy basement where the two of you had spent hours talking and pouring over case files. In the rare moments of calm, he had begun to open up to you about his past and his childhood. He told you how he believed his sister was abducted by aliens and how he had never forgiven himself for what happened. You knew so many personal things about him, but one day you realized something... you didn’t even know his first name.   

You opened the door to the basement and saw Mulder was sitting at his desk, chewing on the end of his pen and reading. He looked up as the door opened and you walked in. 

“Morning,” he said as you made your way to the chair sitting opposite him. 

As you sat down, you said, “What’s your name?”

He paused and lifted an eyebrow at you. “Well, considering you’ve been here a month already, I thought you would have figured it out by now.”

You smirked. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. What’s your first name? You know mine. It’s only fair I should know yours. Do you not like it or something?”  

“Not really,” he huffed and took a sip from his coffee mug.

“Why not?” 

He shrugged. “Just don’t. That’s all. Why do you care all of a sudden?”

“Because,” you started, “I thought we were friends. Friends tell each other stuff. I know plenty about you already, but I don’t know this.”

He sighed and put his book down. The light from the table lamp hit his eyes at just the right angle, turning them blue, green, and brown all at the same time. You had always thought he had such pretty eyes, the way they changed color depending on the day, how they always sparkled when he talked about things he was passionate about. You could stare into them all the time if you could.

“Fox,” he said softly. “My name is Fox.” 

You nodded. “Fox Mulder. Well, it certainly isn’t boring.”

He chuckled. “Believe me, I wish I had a boring name. It’s better than ‘Spooky’ though, so I’ll take it.” 

You wandered around to his side of the desk and put a hand on his shoulder. “I think it’s a lovely name. Thank you for telling me.” 

Fox gazed up at you with those sultry eyes. Your heart skipped a beat and your cheeks threatened to turn pink. For a moment you thought you were going to do something you’d regret, something that would ruin your relationship, and you thought you saw the same thought flash across his face too, just for an instant. But, just like that it was gone. He went back to his book and you began organizing paperwork, but a glimmer of hope beamed through your mind. Perhaps, one day you could do something about it. 

[scientific-explanations]

these two are just 😍😍

[nerds-yearbook]

FBI Special Agent Dana Scully was born on February 23, 1964 ("Lazerus", X-Files, TV, Event)

[spidey-is-tired]

i didnt rlly have a plan for this but I drew Scully <3

[rockingrobin69]

Winner

Beyond the farmhouse the fields lasted forever, stretching goldeny-crisp in the morning air. The sound of cows in the distance, the gentle gurgle of the stream, but—

“No chicken,” the man in the red cowboy hat said. “Noticed? Not roosters, no clacking, no nothing. Usually at this time there’d be a racket.”

Some clacking: just Malfoy’s boots, with the sharp, pointy edges that Harry couldn’t help but stare at indefinitely. Coming out of the barn, and the gleam of his hair in the morning light made something clench in Harry’s belly, too tight.

“All there,” Malfoy said and came closer. The crease between his eyebrows was familiar: the look of a puzzle. Harry lived for the mystery: Malfoy lived for this. The answers. He was sort of perfect, as a partner, at least.

“See? Just as I said. Chickens all there, roosters all in their place, but nothing. Like someone’s come and zipped their little beaks shut.”

Malfoy jotted something down in his notepad. “You say it began three days ago?”

“At sunrise. Everything suddenly went quiet. Thought, something this weird, I gotta tell my Marge, and then she called you folks.”

“Has anything like this ever happened before?” Harry asked. “We got reports from the neighbouring farms about something they call ‘the alligator’. Ever heard of it?”

Cowboy-hat went still. “Alligator, you say,” with an exaggerated tilt to his frown he definitely didn’t have before, “no, don’t think I have.”

“Hmm,” Malfoy tapped the notepad with his pen. “Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Griffin. If you remember anything else, please let us know.”

He nodded, chewed his bottom lip, opened his mouth, then closed it. Walked away to his truck, to the sound of a tractor in the next field and, still, no chickens.

“He knows something,” Harry said.

“Obviously.” Malfoy was already collecting his things in that little bag he always insisted on carrying. He looked so strange in those boots, in that shirt, so oddly different and blaringly himself and annoyingly, overwhelmingly handsome. It was too early in the morning, and Harry was losing his mind. Malfoy being a condescending arse shouldn’t make him feel like that.

“Obvious? What’s so obvious about this?”

The tip of Malfoy’s mouth tugged upwards. “You mean you didn’t notice the secret hatch in the barn?”

Oh, he forgot how absolutely brilliant Malfoy could be. Fighting his own grin: “Of course I noticed it.”

“And you noticed, I presume, the carving in the chicken coop that is probably the password to unlock it.”

“Naturally.”

“A bit tacky, if you asked me, but then of course I don’t farm chicken, so. ‘Winner winner, chicken dinner’ it is.”

Harry shrugged. “Got a charm to it. So, do we try it right now, or…”

“Potter,” Malfoy laughed, a hand out to stop Harry, already on his way back to the barn, “I was joking. There is no carving. Although I do think there should be a way to crack the hatch open, in the right time. Sunrise or sunset, I reckon. Sorry, I just—you’re too easy.”

The problem was that Harry really was. Too easy for him, too charmed and too out of it in the heat of Texan summer, too early in the morning. “You’re an arse.”

“Astute observation, Special Agent Potter. Now, we have some hours to kill before out next chance at the spells. How about we take a drive to the river, see if we can dig up anything more about that ‘alligator’ from the fishermen?”

“Sure thing, Dr. Malfoy. If you wear the hat again.”

He frowned. “It really doesn’t match the shape of my face.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your face,” Harry growled, somehow not for the first time since joining the Hex-files. “Come on, let’s go. The river’s not a bad idea, but you still owe me breakfast.”

“Anything for you, Potter.” With that tiny almost-smile that drove Harry mad.

*

“I’m just saying,” Harry started, arms waving—

“Say it, then, don’t spray it!” Malfoy dabbed his face with a napkin. The movement so gentle, so prim, it dragged a reluctant smile out of Harry; made for something inside him go warm. Distracting. “Honestly, Potter. Don’t pout. One must insist on at least some table manners.”

Harry flipped him off with a chip. “All I’m saying is, it’s connected. The fish disappearing, the alligator, the chicken going silent—there’s something that connects them all.”

“The chicken curse,” Malfoy said with a delicately-arched eyebrow.

“Something of the sort.”

“You don’t truly believe it, do you?” without the mocking Harry still half-expected. “The chicken conspiracy those farmers were talking about.”

Harry took his time with the plastic cup of soda. Let the last couple of days untangle in his head, collected the bits and pieces of information. “I think I might,” he said carefully. Malfoy nodded, and laid down a couple of napkins on the table.

“All right. Show me.”

He’d do that sometimes: when Harry built theories upon theories in his head, make him stop and lay it out. Then say something that would shake Harry’s world to the core, like you’re a bloody genius, Potter or it’s amazing how you can do that, all delivered in a neutral, level tone.

So Harry pulled out his wand and threw a covert Notice-Me-Not. Drew it all out: from the fish in the river to the wheat in the fields to the ever elusive ‘alligator’ whom, he suspected, wasn’t so much a wild animal at all. Malfoy took it in with his calculating look, and tipped his head slightly in the way that meant he was interested.

“All right,” when Harry was finished, “if alligator is code, what do you think it stands for?”

“I’m not sure yet,” he confessed, heart hammering in his chest. This was the moment when his old partner would laugh at him, or his boss start shouting, or his friends would roll their eyes.

Malfoy said: “Okay. Where do you want to start?”

And Harry thought, I love you. Swallowed it, distilled into something he could use, the way he’s been doing for weeks now, for months.

“I think we should go back to Mr. Griffin. Got this feeling we’ll find what we need there.”

“Your feelings are usually right,” Malfoy shrugged, and got up. “Shall we? Sunset’s in about twenty minutes. Give it another try.”

I love you, Harry thought again, nonsensically.

*

It turned out the hatch opened to a wardrobe, and in it were—

“Alligator costumes,” Malfoy, with his eyebrow, with his eyes only slightly round in surprise. “Part Animagi, I assume?”

Mr. Griffin shrugged. “How did you know it was me?”

“Special Agent Potter figured out your schedule had to do with the fish disappearing.”

“I didn’t mean to scare the chickens,” Mr. Griffin said sadly. “Do you think they’ll ever forgive me?”

“Probably,” Malfoy again, more gently than Harry thought he was capable. “Let’s go inside and think of a way to reverse this. Suppose no one was actually hurt. No harm, no fowl.”

Harry grabbed his wrist to stop him. “Malfoy,” a little choked with it, “want to have food tonight? With me. I mean, a meal. I mean, a date. I mean—”

“Yes,” Malfoy’s lip did that thing, this almost-smile that was the dearest thing in Harry’s heart. “Yes, Potter, I’ll go on a date with you.” After a moment: “But I’m not wearing the hat.”

“I think you look very charming in it.”

The tiniest of blushes. “Wherever you take me, they’d better not serve chicken.”

I love you, Harry thought. Grinned with his whole face, and raced Malfoy back to the ranch, where Mr. Griffin was going to undo the curse.

Another mystery solved. And something bigger, too, he thought: something much brighter.

For my dear @short666bread​ who gave me the coolest prompt from this list. Hey, you could do it too! 

[captaincleverusernamehere]

Never been more in love than watching Scully no fear straight face eat a bug just to impress/confuse a magician, followed ONLY by her, 30 seconds later and out of his sight, revealing that it was a sleight of hand trick

[thedepartmentofdiscoveries]

April 27, 2002.

The X-Files "Series Finale Wrap Party"

Gillian Anderson during "The X-Files" Series Finale Wrap Party at The House Of Blues in West Hollywood, California, United States. (Photo by Albert L. Ortega/WireImage)