xffictober24

[xffictober24]

Prompt: "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you"

"The Magician at Nine"

Fictober Special

*-*-*-*-*

They were ridiculous, made up in splotchy dollar store paint and feathers. Every other block Scully slid her ruined fingers through the weepy black patches around his eyes; every other block he halted under her ministrations, grinned, and traded their pirate and buccaneer hats back and forth.

"We should have waited for tomorrow," he teased, batting away a feather leaning, catching, itching, under his nose, "our getup would have been half off."

"Mm. But then it wouldn't be Halloween." This was important to her, inexplicably important. She'd abandoned her report, clicked her heels to Mulder's room, and whisked him away to town-- to a small party store she's seen, driving from the morgue. They'd barely scrambled together a costume, let alone two, when the spooks and ghouls and fairies swarmed down the streets in a rush.

Mulder paused, abandoned a half-formed thought. Instead, he watched her sweep a black smudge on his cheek, eye her thumb, and rub the excess away on her palm. "Scully...."

"What, Mulder?" The pirate hat was swallowing her head, was likely tickling her partner in the face with its obnoxious, uncontrollable feather. If only the paint would rub away--

"I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

She froze, contemplating, as three little pumpkins and their parents floated by with glowing green lanterns. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Mulder's skin awash in that sickly illumination, as pale and sweaty as Death. Then it was gone. "How do you see me?"

He shrugged. "I... think you were born to be black and white."

He was not, she knew, referring to her fatal collapse, to Fellig's burning hand and madness. "Like the silver screen?"

"Yeah." It was a flippant dodge. But Mulder changed his mind, again: reaching up, he danced a finger clockwise in his ruined paint job; and, reaching down, he drew this finger across her cheek in a slash. "Like... that."

Scully knew he was speaking to her, writing a labyrinthine answer in his strange, tender artwork. But how to decipher it.... She watched his eyes shift with his mood, watched as second guesses began to replace his former whimsy.

"I always had a soft spot for Maureen O'Hara." Lifting the pirate hat up and off, she nudged at his arm. Trade you.

"Myrna Loye?" Transaction completed, they walked slowly onward. "Rita Hayworth?"

"That wasn't her natural hair color, Mulder."

He raised his eyebrows, smiling in a truly superior way; and she shoved his shoulder, shaking loose a squeaky laugh. Nearly laughing herself, in turn. "Shut up, Mulder."

He did not, in fact, shut up. But he did surprise her: his soiled fingers disappeared into a coat pocket and returned topside, pinching a tiny white handkerchief between them-- which he handed over, comically, like a peace flag.

"For me?" Of course it was for her. "Where'd that come from?"

"Didn't I tell you, Scully?" They both tried to dust each other off, swipes turning into smudged and faded smears as the night darkened around them. "I was actually a magician."

Hm, she thought, busying herself with her work. You are.

*-*-*-*-*

Thanks for reading¬

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober24.

[xffictober24]

Sharing is Caring rated X // 33k // kinktober MFM threesome

Epilogue: Such Sweet Sorrow (ao3)

Time to say goodbye.

They make her come twice before she kicks them away, giggling and grumbling about needing breakfast before she starves to death mid-orgasm.

tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @xffictober24

IT'S FINISHED!!!!!

Thank you thank you thank you to every one of you who read this. It was so much fun to write and share (sharing is caring!) and I gotta say I'm quite sad to say goodbye to this one. I want to stay in that Vegas hotel room with this trio of beautiful perverts in perpetual debauchery for all my days. Buuuuut I'm pretty sure there's more to this series, so I suspect we'll all be saying hello again soon enough 💙🩷💙

[xffictober24]

Fictober Day 31: No Matter What They Say About Us

Prompt: "It's always been you"

For the anon who asked: Awww I love your latest fic! Can I request an expansion on the universe? Can you write something with HR when the two come back to the XF in the revival? And maybe another round of water cooler gossip about Mr & Mrs Spooky once again prowling with allegations. Rating: T, wc: 1,723

(companion piece to: Let's Give Them Something To Talk About)

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober24

Sitting in the HR reception area, his hands neatly folded in his lap, he’s taken back to 20 years ago when they were doing this for the first time.

Today is the day when they let the FBI know that Mulder and Scully are back together – not just as FBI partners, but as life partners. He hasn’t told Scully, but he’s ordered muffins – vegan, of course – to celebrate later. He’s even willing to share with other agents. If they play nice. He’s just too excited that this is happening. Again.

Scully isn’t here yet and he trusts her, so her getting cold feet doesn’t even cross his mind. Not until she’s ten minutes late, that is. His phone is quiet and he can’t help but worry. The secretary is eyeing him and he can’t blame her.

“Agent Scully will be here shortly,” he says, tapping his phone. The young woman just nods and pretends to return to her work.

He quickly types a “where are you” into his phone and waits for her to answer. This wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t gone their separate ways this morning. Scully assured him that she didn’t need him to come to her house to pick up the last few things.

Moving back into their house was a swift affair; she was leaving most of her furniture behind and it was just personal belongings that she was bringing over. Mulder would have personally carried over anything she wanted to have in the house. All he wants – and needs – is her.

“Do you want to postpone?” The secretary asks him.

“No,” Mulder says quickly. “She’ll be right here. I promise.” He tries to give her another smile, but she’s already looking away.

Even HR isn’t what it used to be anymore. There are new forms to fill out. Back in the day, it was enough to just let HR know they were in a romantic relationship. Now they have to put it in writing. It’s going to be official.

Maybe Scully got cold feet after all.

Just as he’s about to postpone the appointment – if for no other reason than to flee from the secretary’s scary glances – Scully comes through the door, breathing hard.

“I’m sorry,” she says to Mulder and the secretary. “I know I’m late.”

“No problem, Agent Scully.” Mulder doesn’t question why the secretary is suddenly super nice. People can’t be mad at Scully for too long. He knows that feeling all too well. When the other woman disappears, Mulder turns to Scully.

“Did anything happen? I was worried.”

“Just traffic,” she says, but the way she’s avoiding his eyes, he knows there’s more. This is neither the right time nor place to probe. So he just puts his hand on top of hers.

“Ready to make it official?” he asks, hoping to ease the moment.

“Hmm.”

“Scully?”

“I’ll be right back.”

And just like that, she’s gone again.

Of course, the secretary chooses this exact moment to return. Her smile slips from her face when he sees Mulder sitting there all alone.

“You can go in now,” she says, trailing off at the end. “Is Agent Scully not joining you?”

“She is,” he says, walking toward the open door. “She just needed the bathroom.”

He hopes he’s not wrong.

*

They fill out the forms, Mulder glancing over at Scully as though trying to compare their answers. They match. They’re both entering this relationship on their own free will. Nothing about their partnership will change. Scully changes her address back to their house and it makes his stomach somersault.

His smile is goofy when they leave HR behind – their relationship once again FBI official.

“How do you feel?”

“Tired,” Scully says.

“I meant about having made it official.”

“Oh.” She chuckles, squeezing his hand. “Good. I feel good about us, Mulder.”

“Should I be worried about you being tired?” he asks as they make their way down to the basement.

“It’s just been a few long days. I’m fine, Mulder.”

He waits for her to say more, but she doesn’t, and the nagging worry in his stomach remains.

He can’t focus on work. He’s focused on Scully. She, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be worrying about anything. She’s wearing her glasses – a different source of distraction – and immersed in research. Their caseload is light at the moment. He doesn’t want to pester her; definitely not at work. They’re supposed to keep their romantic life out of the office. It’s just more difficult than he imagined.

“I’m going to pick up the muffins,” Mulder says, taking his coat. “Do you want anything else?”

“Muffins?” She looks up at him, her expression hungry. It makes Mulder smile.

“Celebratory muffins. Vegan chocolate.” They’re her favorite. He watches her lick her lips in anticipation.

“I love you, Mulder. In case you didn’t know.”

“I did know, but I’m always happy to hear it again. Give me ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?” She raises an eyebrow.

“For you, I’ll make it five.”

He hears her laugh as he sprints out the door.

*

In the end, he’s gone longer than ten minutes. He stops at the water cooler, sharing some of the muffins out of sheer goodwill and joy.

He should have known better.

The other agents – all so much younger than him and Scully – treat him like a peer, smile, and thank him for the treat. As soon as he’s out of their sight, but not earshot, he realizes that some things never change.

Including gossip.

“Did you hear about Agent Scully?”

“No, what?” someone asks, their mouth full of muffins. Mulder presses himself against the wall. He knows he shouldn’t eavesdrop; nothing good has ever come out of it, but he can’t stop himself.

“I heard that she’s having an affair – with AD Skinner!”

“No way!”

That makes Mulder chuckle. He has to tell Scully that one.

“Yes way! There’s more. Trish will kill me for this but… she was in the bathroom with Agent Scully today and…”

And what? Mulder wants to scream, all the humor suddenly gone.

“Trish was washing her hands, and Agent Scully ran past her and then got sick.” Mulder hears gasps and he’s certain one of them is his own.

“Agent Scully is having a baby with AD Skinner,” one of the young agents says. “I feel almost sorry for Agent Mulder. Didn’t they just get back together?”

“I’m not sorry,” a female voice says. “I’d be happy to dry his tears and more.” A round of laughter follows and Mulder knows he’s heard enough.

*

Back in the office, Scully greets him with a smile, and once again, he’s just staring at her, struggling to return her smile.

“You were gone a while,” she says.

“Thought I’d share some of these babies.” It’s meant to be a joke, but she winces. He doesn’t believe any of the rumors he’s just heard. But he knows Scully ran out of the office earlier. He knows that she was late to their appointment and that she hasn’t wanted to talk about why.

The pieces fit together – even though they shouldn’t.

“Guess what?” he says, peeling off the paper from one of the muffins. Scully is already chewing on one, solidifying his theory. When has he ever been wrong about a hunch?

“What?” she asks with her mouth full, already halfway through her treat.

“I heard another rumor.”

“About us? Aren’t we too old to be interesting to these people?”

“We’re legends, Scully.” He’s grinning at her and it has nothing to do with them being water cooler fodder. “So, you and Skinner, huh?”

“Excuse me?” She looks like a chipmunk with her muffin-filled cheeks.

“Allegedly you and Skinner are having a sordid affair.”

“Mulder you know that’s ridiculous.”

“I know,” he says with a chuckle, “but you might want to dispel the rumor if, um… well.”

“What else did they say?” she asks, sounding decades younger.

“You weren’t alone in the bathroom this morning,” he says softly.

“Shit.”

“Is that- what the other Agent said. You’re not sick, are you?” He knows she isn’t. It’s a gut feeling. A hunch. Her complexion is healthy. It’s rosy. He’s seen her like this before. Once. Back then, he hadn’t put two and two together, and the next time he saw her, she was ready to pop.

As unlikely as it is - and Mulder can’t quite believe it at their age - but everything points to Scully being pregnant.

“I wanted to tell you at home,” she murmurs. “I’m not even sure that- Mulder, logically it can’t be true.”

“Have you taken a test?” She nods and it all makes sense. This is why she was late. He’s by her side in an instant. His knees will hate him later and into next month, but he’s crouching in front of her, his hands on her knees.

“Hey,” he says, making her look at him. “Guess there’s another meeting with HR in our future soon, huh? Disclose the new situation.”

“Aren’t you at all worried?”

“No,” he says honestly.

“Mulder, we’re old. We don’t know- there are so many things that could…”

“I believe in us. Yes, we’re older. This might be a crazy idea and Scully, I will be with you all the way. Whatever decision you make. How are you feeling? Emotionally? Physically?”

“It’s all just so overwhelming. I feel fine – really fine. Today was the first time I experienced morning sickness. I’m tired, but… I’m feeling good.” He smiles at her, relieved. “I made an appointment with my doctor for tomorrow,” she continues, glancing at him. “Will you come with me?”

“Of course.” He picks up her hands and kisses them, knuckle by knuckle.

“Why do people think I’m having an affair with Skinner?”

“No idea.” He grins. “Skinman is a good-looking guy.”

“You have the affair with him then.”

“I’m happy with what I have,” he says. “We’ll be the number one topic at the water cooler again.” He’s grinning, happiness flooding him. A baby. A second chance at all of this.

“You really think they care about us that much?”

“It’s always been you and me, babe,” he says and she laughs. No matter what will happen tomorrow, or the day after, whether there will be another baby or not, they’ll be just fine.

[xffictober24]

Sharing is Caring rated X // 33k // kinktober MFM threesome

Chapter 6: One Last Time (ao3)

A very tired Scully and a grand finale.

Stars float through her head, a galaxy of sensation, their flesh against hers her only tether to reality. She wants to freeze this moment forever, capture it in amber—or maybe a Polaroid—so she can come back to it again and again.

tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @xffictober24

[xffictober24]

Getting Back

Happy Fictober! This time I am doing this a little different. A multi-chapter fic! So in order to understand what's going on, you'll have to read from the beginning. Chapter ratings will be posted with each installment.

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

Chapter 30 of 31 | Rated: PG | tw: none | S11, post-My Struggle V

prompt: I won't let you down | tagging @today-in-fic

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

With their arms wrapped around one another and Scully’s tears soaking the front of Mulder’s jacket for the millionth time since they’ve met, they stay quiet standing on the pier. Though their hearts beat in sync, their minds couldn’t be farther apart.

Scully’s mind races at the thought that Jackson was never truly theirs, more so he wasn’t Mulder’s ever to begin with. Logically, the rational side of her brain is telling her that the timelines do not match up. And she has medical records proving that two weeks post her encounter with the Smoking Man she was not pregnant. Mulder insisted she be tested just so he could sleep better at night. Her blood work came back clear. William—Jackson…had to be theirs, just had to be. It was the one true thing she believed God gave her.

Mulder stood there thinking of the tiny life growing inside of Scully. How was he to protect this little one if he couldn’t protect his own son? A son that he believed was his until Scully tried to tell him otherwise. No! It can’t be true. It ends here. The lies, the manipulation…Mulder vowed to make the world a better, safer place for the being he has yet to meet.

“I won’t let you down, Scully. I won’t let you down.” He vows into the crown of her head.

Scully pulls back from their embrace enough to look at him in the eyes.

“What are you talking about, Mulder?”

“There are so many things that went wrong—so many lies we were told, so many people we trusted that ended up working against us. I’ll be damned if they take another child of mine! It ends here.” Mulder takes her hands with his own. “This is where we get out of the car, Scully. Turn in our badges and live the life we deserve.”

He reaches out to place a hand on her abdomen. “Raise him or her without fear. Watch them grow and learn and be curious.”

Tears quietly stream down Scully’s face, her heart shouting the same desire.

“I just wanna be done.” Mulder moves to cup her face with his hands, brushing away the wet streaks from her face. “Come home.”

At the request, Scully’s face crumbles and sobs into his chest.

“Please come home. I need you, Scully.” She nods against his chest.

“And I need you, Mulder. So much. I want all the things you want. And more. So much more.”

“Let’s get out of here.” They both turn to look back over the water, both sending a silent prayer hoping Jackson didn’t suffer and that the Smoking Man never resurfaces.

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

A head breaks through the water, a gasp for breath cuts through the early morning air. Treading water, Jackson attempts to regulate his breathing until he’s able to swim to the pier. Peering around, he finds that he is by himself.

He screams in his mind, “DANA!”

Snuggled against Mulder’s side, fast asleep Scully sits up in bed as the echoes of her son’s scream for her fades away.

“What is it, Scully?” Mulder murmurs from the bed below her.

“Mulder! Get dressed. It’s Jackson! He’s alive!” She tears out of bed and begins to throw clothes on over her body.

In disbelief, Mulder begins to do the same. “Are you sure, Scully?”

“Yes. I’m sure. He’s at the pier!” She flies down the stairs and is out the door before Mulder is able to slip on his shoes. Outside, the mustang is rumbling to life. Mulder hops in on the passenger side.

“Let me show you what this baby can really do.” Scully peels down the driveway and onto the country road.

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

He’s nowhere to be found. There is no sign of life other than the blood stains left behind from Walter Skinner’s accident and the stains on the pier itself.

“Damn it.” Scully squeezes her hands into fists at her sides.

“Again, are you sure you know what you saw?”

“Yes! He was right here, Mulder,” she walks to the edge of the pier, “He was climbing out of the water and he screamed my name.”

“Jackson!” Mulder calls out. He moves further up the pier, cupping his hands around his mouth to call for him another two times.

“He’s not here, Scully.”

“Noooooo!” She wails. “I know what I saw, what I felt. He’s alive, Mulder, I know he is. Maybe he’s just hiding.”

“Fine, let’s get back in the car. Maybe he decided to walk along the road?”

Mulder takes over driving, slowly maneuvering the vehicle, their eyes peeled for any movement.

“There!” Scully points ahead.

Sure enough there is a figure walking along the road. Mulder barely has the car in park when Scully jumps out of her seat.

“Jackson?!”

An older Asian man turns at the sound. It’s Peter Wong, the pickup artist author, Jackson’s go-to shape-shift. Scully throws her arms around him, holding him tightly.

“You don’t have to hide anymore, Jackson.”

When she pulls back, she looks into the eyes that are shaped like her mother’s. He stands within her embrace as his true self. Mulder walks up with a blanket in his hands and moves to wrap it around Jackson’s tall, skinny frame.

“C’mon, let’s all go home.”

[xffictober24]

Fictober Day 30: When You Know What You Want

Prompt: "I won't let you down"

Mulder and Scully have to babysit baby Matthew Scully. Rating: T, wc: 1,416

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober24

“Mulder, it’s me.” The clock reads 8.57 a.m. when he answers Scully’s phone call – the same time she usually strolls into their basement office.

“Is everything all right?” He’s trying to keep the panic out of his voice. Whatever is going on, Scully doesn’t need him freaking out.

“More or less,” she says with a sigh and he’s half out of his chair already. “I can’t come into the office today.”

“Are you sick?” He squeezes the phone between his ear and shoulder, opening his email, ready to inform Skinner that neither he nor Scully will be available today.

“No, I’m fine – I mean, I’m not sick.” She sighs again. “My sister-in-law Tara called me half an hour ago, frantic because my brother Bill is running late and she has a job interview. My mom is on a trip with her book club and well, I guess that left me.”

“You didn’t mention your brother was in town.”

“I didn’t know,” she says through gritted teeth. “He didn’t want me to know. It was supposed to be some big surprise. That completely backfired. Either way, I’m watching the baby until Tara comes back and it could be hours.”

“Do you want company?” He doesn’t even need to think about it. He’d much rather babysit Bill Jr. baby son than sit around in the office all day, missing Scully.

“You don’t have to do that, Mulder.”

“What if I want to?” She takes her time thinking about it.

“Only if you want to,” she says, but he’s certain he hears relief in her voice. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on his part.

“I’ll contact Skinner and then I’m on my way.”

“Oh Mulder, if you’re coming over, could you pick up a few things on the way for me? Just in case.”

“Sure thing. I won’t let you down.”

*

Scully’s “just-in-case” list is longer than any grocery list he’s ever written for himself. He finds everything easily enough and catches several looks from women – mothers, mostly – who gawk at him.

“Your wife is so lucky,” one says in passing and Mulder stares after her, speechless, convinced he’s in a parallel universe. He forgets about it quickly, hurrying to get to Scully and baby Matthew. He met the boy as an infant; his face had been wrinkly and his eyes closed.

Since then, he hasn’t even seen a picture of the boy. He wonders why. Scully has mentioned him here and there, just like she’s mentioned other members of her family. But he doesn’t know what to expect when he knocks at the door, hoping the baby isn’t asleep.

Scully opens the door with the boy on her hip, smiling at Mulder.

“Hi,” he says, overwhelmed all of a sudden. Scully with a baby in her arms is a sight he doesn’t get to see often. He’s surprised how many emotions it unleashes in him.

“This is my friend, Mulder,” Scully explains to Matthew in a soft voice that makes Mulder stare at her in awe. “Do you want to say hi?”

“No.” It’s more spit than letters and the expression reminds Mulder of the baby’s father. He hopes the dislike isn’t genetic.

“That’s his favorite word,” Scully says, running a hand over Matthew’s soft, reddish hair. The Scully genes must be strong.

As he steps inside, he can’t help but wonder what their child would look like; his and Scully’s. Would their child have red hair, too? Would it have Scully’s nose? God, he hopes so.

“Here’s the- here’s everything you asked for.” He hands her the bag, forgetting that she has the child in her arms. The transfer is awkward but they manage.

“Can you hold him for a second? He doesn’t bite.” Scully hands him the baby and for a moment, the two just stare at each other.

“Hello, Matthew. You probably don’t remember me,” Mulder says as Matthew reaches for his nose. They always go for the nose. “I met you when you were born.”

“Guh!” he exclaims, seemingly agreeing with Mulder.

“I work with your aunt, you know. She’s great, isn’t she? She is. You smell like cookies, Matt. I bet she let you have cookies, huh? Remember how cool she is. You can always come to her when your parents – well, when you need a place to stay.” Matthew listens to him carefully, a finger in his otherwise open mouth. He’s quiet and not fussy, surprising Mulder. He’s heard horror stories of toddlers having crying fits when in a stranger’s arms. Not this little Scully.

“I think you might be my new favorite Scully,” Mulder confesses to him, tickling his stomach and making him gurgle with laughter.

“I’m no longer your favorite?” Scully just stands there in the doorway, her arms crossed, a big smile on her face.

“Matt, I think I’m in trouble.” The boy just laughs again. “You’re still my favorite Scully, Scully,” he assures her. “But this one’s quite cute, too.”

“He is,” she agrees and he thinks he sees a flicker of pain cross her face. “You can hand him back now. Unless you want to feed him.”

“Sorry, pal,” Mulder says, handing the toddler back to Scully, “I’m not qualified for that.”

*

“Toddlers are messy,” Mulder remarks a couple of hours later after Tara has come to pick up Matthew. She apologized to Scully – and Mulder – for springing the boy on them, but both assured her that they didn’t mind.

“They are,” Scully agrees, picking up random toys. She didn’t ask him to stay and help her clean up, but he thought it was the least he could do. Especially after his interactive storytelling in which several plush toys were flying around Scully’s living room.

“But they’re also cute.”

“They are that, too.” Her voice is soft; too much so. He thinks about the moment earlier when he thought he saw something in her expression. There’s something in the air and he isn’t sure if he should grasp for it.

“He has that Scully hair.” Scully chuckles, without looking over at Mulder.

“Bill always hated it when he was younger. I hope it will be easier for Matthew.” She’s holding one of the stuffed animals in her hand; a small giraffe. Mulder just watches her, waits.

“Mulder?”

“Yes?” She’s still not even looking at him, making his heart beat faster, knowing she’s going to say something important.

“Have you ever… I know we once talked about- but have you ever seriously considered having children?” He wishes she were looking at him. He wants to see her face when he says this. But he knows this moment is fragile as it is and he’ll take what he can get.

“For the longest time, I didn’t. It just never crossed my mind and my life – the job… it just wasn’t anything I thought about. Then I met Emily and I saw you with her and…”

“Emily?” Scully turns around and her eyes are full of tears. He nods slowly.

“That’s when I started thinking about it.”

“You could meet someone tomorrow and-”

“I have met her already, Scully. I think you know that.” His admission is not a surprise. Scully glares at him for a second before she looks away, nodding to herself.

“That’s… that makes this easier, actually,” she says, laughing uncomfortably.

“Makes what easier?” Suddenly his heart is pounding, his throat dry.

“I got a second opinion on my ova and um, they say there’s a chance. A chance for me to have a baby.”

“Scully, that is wonderful news.”

“I’ve been thinking about it – debating it, actually. Whether it was something I even wanted to explore. Today showed me that I… that I want to at least try. I have to try.” A few tears fall from her eyes and Mulder nods, overwhelmed by emotions, too. A Scully baby. Red hair, blue eyes, and a sweet smile.

Her child.

“When I thought about it, even before I made a decision, the only person I considered asking…,” she trails off. He has a hunch, but right now is not the time to jump ahead. So he waits. He looks at her, proving that he can be patient. He will be there for her, no matter how long it takes.

“I want you to be the other part of the equation.”

And there it is. His heart takes flight and he doesn’t even need to think about it. He grins at her, hoping she understands.

[xffictober24]

X-Files OctoberFicFest Day 28: Have It Your Way

Thanks for the inspiration @sagan-starstuff and @illaisland

tw: menstruation mention, canon-typical gore, food

Autopsies make Scully hungry. Not the autopsies themselves, obviously. The process doesn't exactly turn her stomach after all this time, but they aren't appetizing either, and having a snack as she gazes into a retracted rib cage isn't exactly sanitary. It's difficult, exacting work that takes a lot of thought, and it's cold in the morgue, so by the time she finishes the last of the autopsies Mulder thought they needed to really solidify their evidence in the case, she's starving. She showers and changes as quickly as she can, emerging from the morgue to find Mulder waiting.

"I didn't hold with your Biblical plagues theory, Mulder, but you weren't entirely wrong," she says, tipping her head from side to side to crack her neck. He winces at the sound. "The last body was full of grasshoppers. Or locusts, as you will."

"The one before that had burns and frostbite," he says, his eyes lit up. It occurs to her that they are well and truly twisted at this point. Professional detachment is one thing, but they're beyond that.

"And, improbably, frogs in this morning's corpse."

He shrugs. "You've seen one body with frogs in it, you've seen 'em all."

She laughs, just a little bit. "I'm starving."

"I'll drive around," he says, taking the keys to the rental car out of his pocket. "You sing out when you see something."

She peers out the window as he navigates. They do this sometimes, this dinner divination, when there are enough choices to feel like fate. This particular metro area is a big town or a small city; fast food abounds. She sees the white and blue sign of a Culver's looming like an angel. Her stomach growls. On top of everything else, she's on her period, and the idea of a burger stokes a need deep inside her. "There," she says.

Mulder parks obediently in the lot and escorts her in, his fingers brushing the small of her back like they're entering a much nicer restaurant.

They look incongruous in the Culver's in their suits and dress shoes. They usually do. Scully ignores the sideways stares from the ultrapolite locals and strides up to the counter. She orders the curd burger, and feels ridiculous doing so, but the lure of fried cheese is too strong to resist. She adds onion rings and fries to her order, because why not, and a chocolate malt. Malt is nutritious, after all. Mulder, looking amused, asks the cashier for a double bacon butter burger with cheese, plus fries and a vanilla shake.

"He doesn't think we can throw down, Scully," he murmurs to her as they fill their water cups at the soda fountain, leaning close to be heard over the clatter of ice.

"I guess he's going to learn," she says.

The food arrives. Mulder carries the tray to their table, carefully selected for its views of the exits, because they can't not keep everything in line of sight. They hang their jackets on the back of their chairs. Mulder rolls up his sleeves, clearly ready to do battle with the pile of food. Scully unwraps her burger with its glorious patty of fried cheese and bites into it. It's possible that she moans a little. Mulder licks his lips.

"That good?"

"Mm," she agrees with her mouth full.

He bites into his own burger and now Scully's the one trying not to look at him, because his expression of bliss is too close to something else. They eat, dipping onion rings into the tubs of ketchup. Scully dunks a fry in her chocolate malt. It's an excellent combination.

"I was so hungry," she says.

"I gathered that," Mulder teases.

"You spend all day in a freezer," she mutters.

"I'm not judging you, Scully," he says, leaning back in his chair and taking her second-to-last onion ring. He leaves her the big one, though, so she doesn't lunge across the table and bite it out of his mouth. "I'm always happy to help you satisfy your appetites."

She eyes him up and down, considering five or six different witty retorts, fairly certain he can hear each one of them even though she says nothing. Most of the time, menstruation is somewhere between routine and annoying, but every now and then, it stirs primal hungers in her. She could sink her teeth into the muscle of Mulder's forearm where his sleeve is rolled up and lick the salt off his skin.

"I'll call you next time I feel the need to take down a rack of ribs."

"Oh, I'll be there," he assures her. He reaches over with a napkin and dabs at her mouth. The napkin comes away red with ketchup. "You're a messy eater, Scully. You need me there to spot you."

She looks away and tugs at the straw of her malt, pulling the thick liquid through. The effort hollows her cheeks. It probably looks like she's sucking something else, although the technique doesn't really carry over. God, she's got to calm down. Maybe she can pour her ice water into her lap. It's not like she could get any soggier down below, between her flow and whatever else.

Mulder balls up the wrappers and rises to slide all the trash into the basket. He stacks the tray with its fellows; it makes that particular plasticky click. He picks up his shake and his jacket and tips his head inquisitively, and Scully follows him, feeling the eyes tracking them out of the restaurant. She ignores them. They always draw attention, regardless of what they're doing. She's just glad no one's hit on Mulder yet. She's not sure she'd tolerate that well today.

"Let's go to the movies," she says on impulse. "I don't want to sit at the hotel."

"If you want to sit in the car instead, we could go to the drive in," he offers. "I saw it on the way into town yesterday."

"What's playing?" she asks.

He grins a little crookedly. "Does it matter?"

"No," she says. "Let's go."

They'll probably talk through the movie, slurping on the remnants of the drinks they'll have to smuggle in, but it will feed some other part of her soul. Mulder, in his way, is even more gratifying than onion rings. He's the after-dinner mint to her day, and she wants to savor that.

"A little mignardise to round off our meal," he says. "Or as I called it, the dessert dessert. Much to the displeasure of my cotillion teacher."

"Exactly," she says. "You get me."

He glances over, still grinning. "I got you."

[xffictober24]

Getting Back

Happy Fictober! This time I am doing this a little different. A multi-chapter fic! So in order to understand what's going on, you'll have to read from the beginning. Chapter ratings will be posted with each installment.

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

Chapter 29 of 31 | Rated: PG | tw: none | S11, post-Nothing Lasts Forever

prompt: How did this happen? | tagging @today-in-fic |

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

Dana Scully was a ball of nerves. She sits on an exam table, damaging her cuticles, waiting for her GP to walk in. Her eyes dart to the clock one too many times. She was hoping that she could escape the office and return without Mulder’s detection, but that idea was soon proving to be fruitless. She was already ten minutes late returning from her lunch break.

Just then, the door bursts open to allow entry for her physician.

“Dana! Long time, no see. What gives?”

“I started back at my old job with the FBI.” she explains.

“Ah, does this mean I’ll be seeing you more often?” Her doctor smiles at her jovially.

“Depending on the severity of the circumstance. You know me, I’m more of a frequent flyer of the emergency room when we’re out of town on cases.” Dana smiles sheepishly.

“I always got a kick reading your ER reports. Most intriguing was reading where you were treated in this fine country of ours. I’m sure you would be an asset to the JCC, giving them inside information where improvements need to be made.”

Dana laughs at this.

“But a fall down a trash shoot? How did this happen?”

“All part of the job. Physical altercation that led me to be pushed through an open door which, in turn, was the trash shoot. I can’t be too sure, but I freefell about ten to fifteen feet until I landed pretty hard on the garbage waiting below.”

“I’m sure you came out of that smelling like a rose.”

“Mulder wouldn’t come near me for at least 48 hours.”

“Men.” They both share a laugh.

“Any immediate injuries?” the doctor inquired.

“Surprisingly, no. I am only now feeling muscle atrophy post-trauma. Mostly on my right side.”

“Well, let’s get you some x-rays to make sure there aren’t any hairline fractures. Not to speak ill of any woman’ age, but we are at that point in life where fractures become more common, even from a cushioned fall.”

Dana nods her head with consent.

“Any chance you may be pregnant?”

“Sheila…”

“I know, Dana, I know. But I have to ask these things.”

Dana is about to decline…but then she recalls her sudden nausea she experienced on the ride home after Norfolk, and again at the farmer’s market with Mulder’s marmalade. While not in the realm of extreme possibility, Scully’s intuition kicks in.

“Mulder and I have been regularly active without precautions the last four months or so. Maybe…maybe run a blood sample just to make sure everything is all clear?”

“Of course. I’ll have my medical assistant in shortly to draw you up.”

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

Now a full hour late from returning to work, Dana sees four missed calls between the office phone number and Mulder’s cell. Just as she is about to call him back to assure there is nothing to worry about, her Dr. Sheila Nashat returns wearing an unreadable expression.

“Everything okay? Can we move on with the x-rays?”

Dr. Nashat sits in her exam chair facing her. Oh, shit.

“Congratulations Dana.”

Dana breaks out into a cold sweat and begins to hyperventilate. Dr. Nashat springs up out of her seat and moves Dana to lay down on the exam table. She moves her feet so that Dana’s knees are pointed to the ceiling. A cold compress is placed on the back of her neck.

Once Dana’s breathing regulates, Dr. Nashat hands her a cup of cool water to sip on.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No need to apologize, Dana. I would probably pass out, too, if I received the same news. So, no x-rays today. Instead, we’re going to do an ultrasound to make sure the fetus is doing well and there isn’t any internal bleeding. Sound like a plan?”

Dana nods again, silent. Again, she is left alone while the medical assistant retrieves the ultrasound machine.

She pulls out her phone and starts generating a text to Mulder.

“I’m fine, Mulder. Running late from an appointment. Let’s grab dinner later?”

Note: idea sprang to mind where there was a poll floating around vetting when Scully would have found out about her pregnancy. I think it was @baronessblixen who mentioned it would have made sense for her to find out after the fall down the garbage shoot. So thanks for the inspiration!

[xffictober24]

Fictober Day 29: Cow-incidences

Prompt: "How did this happen?"

For the anon who asked: If you still have enough days left can you do a fic where somehow you can place in this quote “naming your cow Hamburger is crazy. It’s like if you named your fish Sushi.” Rating: T, wc: 964

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober24

Being attacked by a cow even once is, statistically speaking, highly unlikely. Having it happen twice? Next to impossible. And yet, here’s Mulder in a cow-related accident for the second time in as many years.

Unlike last time, the cow is fine. Mulder, however, is less so. The details are hazy and Mulder can’t verify them yet. From what the police told Scully, Mulder was in his car and a cow appeared in the road, he braked, hit his head and the cow wandered off.

It sounds as fantastical as aliens invading the earth.

But she’s his emergency contact and so here she is at the hospital by his side, waiting for him to wake up. The doctors have assured her that apart from a bad concussion, he’s fine. It could have been worse.

How often has she heard this? It could have been worse. He could have died. Mulder doesn’t just have a patient file here, they have a whole book on him. Not that her own file is much smaller.

What were you thinking? She thinks staring at him. They put a bandage around his forehead where he hit his head on the steering wheel. At least – and the lesion on his chest proves it – he was wearing his seat belt. How many head injuries can he sustain until his brain shuts off? A concussion is nothing to worry about – usually.

With Mulder’s history and the still fairly recent head surgery earlier this year, she can’t help but worry. But that’s nothing new, is it? She always worries about Mulder. It never mattered if she knew him a day, a year, or almost a whole decade. Whether he’s her partner, her friend, or her almost lover, her heart will miss a beat every time he’s hurt.

“How did this happen?” she murmurs, touching the bandage on his head. “Can you wake up, please, and tell me?” She smiles, thinking about Mulder reiterating his story, making it sound like fun and not like a life-or-death situation. He’s good at that.

“Hmm?” His eyes are still closed, but she sees them flutter and her heart does the same.

“Mulder?” she asks, waiting for him to fully wake up.

“Where are we?” he rasps and she pours him a glass of water, waiting for him to be awake enough to help him have a sip. His eyes are small and his pupils dilated. She should have checked what medication they’ve given him.

“Hospital,” she says. “You had an accident.” He nods and winces, the slight movement seemingly too painful.

“Do you remember what happened?” She doesn’t want to pressure him; she just wants to know how much damage the concussion has caused.

“Cow,” he says. “There was a… cow.”

“A cow. Are you sure?”

“Naming your cow Hamburger is crazy. It’s like if you named your fish Sushi. Scully, should I name my fish sushi?”

“What are you talking about?” It’s worse than she thought. He’s confused – very much so.

“That cow.” He looks at her and she can barely see the green of his eyes because his pupils are that big. That leaves only one conclusion: he’s as high as a kite. No wonder he’s talking about cows named Hamburger.

“What about that cow?” she asks softly.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he says, leaning closer to her. “I think- I think her owner wanted that cow to murder me. No. No, wait. He wanted me to kill the cow. Why else would you name your cow Hamburger? That poor creature. Remember the cow in Kroner, Scully? Do you think I’m cursed?”

“You’re not cursed,” she assures him, smoothing his hair. The way he looks up at her breaks her heart. She wishes she knew what was going on in that head of his. All she can do is hope that it won’t last long. That he’ll wake up later today or tomorrow and that his mind is clear.

“I killed two cows, Scully.”

“You didn’t. The cow is fine.”

“Hamburger is fine?” His face lights up. Scully doesn’t know why he thinks Hamburger is the cow’s name, but she nods slowly, smiling at him. Once this is over, and he is back to normal, they will need to discuss what happened. And why he was driving a country road all on his own in the middle of the night. There’s time for that later.

“This could have ended badly.” The words tumble from her mouth, the last few hours catching up with her.

“No hamburger for a while,” Mulder says. She feels tears prick her eyes; she wants her Mulder. She wants him to smile at her, and say it’s all right. He just stares blankly at her as though he weren’t there.

“No hamburger for a while,” she agrees, trying to make the situation lighter. “Why don’t you sleep a bit more, hm? You have a concussion.”

“Headache, yeah.” He closes his eyes, only to pop them open again after a few minutes. It could be wishful thinking, but she thinks they look clearer already; the dark clouds moving away, making way for his brilliant mind to shine through.

“Will you stay?” he asks, his voice deep and gravelly.

“Of course I’ll stay,” she assures him, taking his hand in hers. “I’ll be here when you wake up again.”

“Love you, Scully. If I know one thing, it’s that.” He closes his eyes again and in no time at all, his breath has evened out. She allows a few tears to fall, never letting go of his hand. His declaration is loud in her mind, playing like a favorite record.

“Love you, too,” she whispers, wondering if one day they’ll finally say these words when neither of them is lying in a hospital bed.

[xffictober24]

Getting Back

Happy Fictober! This time I am doing this a little different. A multi-chapter fic! So in order to understand what's going on, you'll have to read from the beginning. Chapter ratings will be posted with each installment.

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

Chapter 25 of 31 | Rated: PG | tw: none | S11, post-Ghouli

prompt: It consumes me | tagging @today-in-fic

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

The drive home was silent. Scully sat in the passenger seat replaying the CCTV footage of her and her son’s interaction at the gas station parking lot in her mind. It was him. He was standing right there in front of her. Not as himself, obviously. But the fact that it was the first conversation they’d ever had…it was overwhelming. Last she saw of him, their conversations were one-sided with his responses being mostly spit bubbles and inarticulate sounds.

Before she knows it, Mulder has turned down the dirt driveway leading to the house. They both walk to the rear of the vehicle to remove their go-bags that they didn’t need. Scully takes two steps toward the house, then stops.

“Coming in, Scully?”

“Would you be disappointed if I declined?” she asks, her eyes not quite meeting his.

“Of course not. Everything okay? Anything I can do?” He takes a step toward her, but her body language warns him to keep his distance.

“I’m fine. I just…I need some time alone is all.”

“Okay. Text me when you get home? Otherwise, I’ll be up all night worrying about you.”

Her eyes finally meet his and gives him a soft smile in agreement.

The ride home is quiet. She takes this hour to reflect on the past, recent events, and how this all will impact their future. Her heart constricts as she realizes her son—this Jackson, a high school drop-out, is traveling the country in what looked the world’s most unreliable car. She doesn’t know how he does it, but she attempts to communicate with him asking him to turn back, to come home. We’ve been waiting so long for you.

Oddly, she suddenly feels nauseous and pulls off to the side of the road. She tries to breathe through it but at the first gag, she is out the door and emptying her stomach into the dry grass next to the car. She leans her bottom against the door with her hands on her knees so she can dip head between them to keep the nausea at bay. She heaves one more time and then, just as suddenly as she felt sick, she feels fine. Wiping her mouth with a napkin found in the glove compartment, she chalks her sickness up to emotional stress. She has no other episodes the remainder of the drive.

Later while lying in bed, Scully tosses and turns unable to sleep. She regrets not staying with Mulder, or at least not asking him to come home with her. She misses his arms wrapped around her, spooning from behind. His warm breath steady against her neck. Every time she closes her eyes, she replays finding Jackson on the floor, blood spatter everywhere. Except this time, he doesn’t wake up, doesn’t disappear from the morgue. There’s no pursuit from the DOJ. Instead, she and Mulder bury him alongside his adoptive parents. The anguish she feels at having truly lost him makes her sit up in bed, her lungs gasping for breath.

She pulls her legs into her chest and sobs into her arms wrapped around her knees.

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

Mulder walks amiably around the farmer’s market. He greets all the vendors who calls him out by name, exchanging pleasantries and playing catch-up. They all mention how they missed seeing him and Dana. After making a full circuit, he drops onto a picnic table enjoying the warm sunshine along with some fresh bread and homemade marmalade.

He’d hoped he would catch her here. It was Saturday after all. And the first free Saturday they've had in some time. But as the day was waning away he was beginning to think that she wasn’t coming.

“Is this seat taken?”

He looks over his shoulder to see Scully standing behind him. He immediately drops his food, wiping his hands on his pants and throws his arms around her.

“I missed you,” he brings his forehead down to touch hers.

“I missed you, too.” She leans up to kiss him softly. Her stomach recoils slightly at the taste of kumquat on his lips. Her need for connection overpowers the slowly rising nausea and she kisses him again.

She then moves out of his arms to sit on the bench next to where he was sitting and reaches over to secure the lid back onto the jar of marmalade, pushing it away to the center of the table.

“How did you sleep?” Mulder straddles the seat next to her, his hand reaching out to rub up and down her back.

“Terrible. Every time I closed my eyes, I dreamt of the worst possible scenarios. You?”

“Same. I was awake thinking about you, what’s been going through your head, about what I can do to help you work through it; and kicking myself for not coming up with any adequate solutions.”

“Sounds like we wouldn’t have gotten any sleep even if we were beside one another.”

“I guess not.” He brushes a lock of hair behind her ear.

“It consumes me. These thoughts and visions. Of the future, of our son—this person named Jackson. And even with all of this going on, we’ve somehow found each other again. I see the light in you, Mulder, and I’m afraid I’m going to burn it out with the burdens I now carry. That’s what scares me the most. Losing you. For good.”

“My place is here. Right by your side, Scully, where you’ve been the last twenty-five years while I searched for the truth. Now it’s time to find yours.”

Scully reaches up to cup his cheek and looks deeply into his eyes. She finds renewed strength in their connection and determination to fight the future. Together.

[xffictober24]

Getting Back

Happy Fictober! This time I am doing this a little different. A multi-chapter fic! So in order to understand what's going on, you'll have to read from the beginning. Chapter ratings will be posted with each installment.

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

Chapter 26 of 31 | Rated: R | tw: none | S11, pre-barcode ep

prompt: You were the first | tagging @today-in-fic

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

It’s extremely rare that the x-files division ever receives mail. Sure, they may get a random hand-written letter about some phenomenon taking place in Bumfuck, Idaho, a video or two capturing grainy footage of Sasquatch or the existences of the fae living in their little mushroom-covered tree stump houses.

But never advertisements for new restaurants.

Scully recalled coming across said advertisement for a AI-run sushi establishment. The ad boasts about its top-of-the-line POS self-serve system, the accuracy and authenticity, what’s better than not having to make small talk with your server?

A sushi fan herself, Scully had placed the ad on top of his laptop saying it would be “kinda like a date.” Of course Mulder’s dirty mind equating Scully with fish was quite the turn-off that afternoon and told him to forget it. Then soon, they were on the road to duel evil psychic twins.

Now back in the office, minds awhirl with the thoughts of William/Jackson, Mulder finds the ad beneath some folders that needed to be filed away in the cabinet.

“Still interested, Scully?” He holds the ad in front of his chest.

“Mmm, I don’t know. Something seems off about that place.” At that same moment, her stomach churns but then settles.

“You were the first to bring it up. Why the change of heart?”

“I don’t trust it. Doesn’t seem real.”

“All the more to go check it out. Besides I am craving some crispy spicy tuna roll right about now.” He moves behind her, placing his hands along her hips. His right hand slides to the center of her lower stomach, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of her slacks.

“I’ll give you a tuna roll,” Scully threatened, softly jabbing her elbow into his stomach.

“Always the tease.” Mulder rubs where she elbowed him. She looks down to see the beginnings of an erection forming.

“Really Mulder?”

“I can’t help it. You’re gorgeous. And you’re mine.” Scully arches her eyebrow.

“Okay, so we’re working on that last bit. C’mon Scully. Come out with me. When was the last time we ever went on a real date?”

Scully could count on one hand how many dates they’d been on. She looks up to see him giving her those patent puppy dog eyes that she’s so weak to resist. So she agrees.

“I have an appointment to get my hair done first. But I can meet you there after?”

“It’s a date.” They both smirk at each other.

Scully saddles up closer to Mulder’s side, a finger begins to play with his belt buckle. He twitches at her teasing contact and tries to step away from her.

“Where are you going?”

“Away from you. You’re dangerous.” He laughs to keep their teasing light and fun.

She chases after him around the back of his desk until she has him pinned in his seat. She gracefully dips to her knees. Mulder gulps audibly and turns to look at the open door of their office.

“Scully.”

Her hands have his belt undone within seconds and her lips graze the tip of his shaft once she has worked him out of his pants.

“Scully, the door.”

“Better be quiet then poopie-head.”

She swallows him whole while Mulder shoves a fist in his mouth to mute his groans.

She will pay for this later.

[xffictober24]

Getting Back

Happy Fictober! This time I am doing this a little different. A multi-chapter fic! So in order to understand what's going on, you'll have to read from the beginning. Chapter ratings will be posted with each installment.

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

Chapter 27 of 31 | Rated: R | tw: none | S11, post-barcode ep

prompt: Let me remind you | tagging @today-in-fic

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

The smart house wasn’t even hers. But here they stand in front of the charred entryway, watching firemen still coming and going, and she could almost swear Mulder has a tear coming out of the corner of his eye.

“Really, Mulder?” Scully has her arms crossed over her chest, a look of disbelief on her face.

“What? It seemed like a really cool house.”

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

Scully had been approached by one of her lab-rat acquaintances who was going out of town on a cruise and asked if she would be so kind to house-sit while he and his partner were away.

“It’s one of those state-of-the-art smart houses. Literally every component in the house can be controlled by your cell phone. My partner, Scott, hates it. It’s one of the main reasons he won’t move in with me.”

“Sorry to hear that. If it can be controlled with your cellphone, can’t you monitor it from the ship?”

“I’m sure I could…but I have a feeling I’d press something wrong and the whole house would catch on fire. Wouldn’t that be something?”

He showed her which app to download and set up her own profile with a security pin code and password. “Feel free to invite that partner of yours over, too. I’m sure he would lose his shit over this place!”

Now, for someone that kept a piece of gaffers tape over the web camera on his laptop, Mulder was completely enamored with the smart house. “Look Scully, I knock on the fridge and it shows me what’s inside without me having to open the door! How convenient is that?!”

“So what, Mulder? It’s not like there’s nothing more than expired orange juice and leftover take out in your refrigerator.”

Mulder wags his finger in her face, subliminally reminding her that a lot off what she likes to eat and drink have made it into his fridge as well. Scully rolls her eyes.

“Whoa! His and hers bed settings?!” Mulder fiddles with the remote, playing with different temperatures and layouts.

“I think you mean “his and his”, Mulder. C’mon, stop! You’re going to mess with their settings and get off of the bed with those dirty shoes!”

As he rolls off to the side, “Can’t he just fix it with that silly app thingy?”

“I don’t know, Mulder, and I don’t need to know. Just leave things be.”

Taking a tour of the bathroom, Mulder sets his eyes on the jet tub. He wiggles his eyebrows at her and she promptly turns her back on him to explore elsewhere.

“Oh yeah. We are so using that.”

“Let me remind you, Mulder, this is strictly business. I’m doing this guy a favor. We’re not here to indulge in your….sexcapades.”

Mulder burst into laughter, “Dear diary. On this day, in this year, Dana Katherine Scully used the words “sexcapades” in my presence.”

She punches him in the arm and turns to head towards the living room. He follows close behind, noticing the large gas fireplace that takes up the majority of the wall. Mulder sneaks up behind her, winding his arms low around her waist.

“Tell me you can’t see it, Scully?” The sexy timber of his voice travels down her spine, straight to her sex. She bites back a groan when she feels herself gush.

As if attuned to her body’s response, his hand dips below the waistband of her pants, his fingers burying beneath her panties. His seductive laugh tickles her ear once he learns her secret. His hips rock into her backside as he pinches her engorged clit between his fingers. She whimpers.

Still close to her ear, his fingers flirting between her clit and her opening he paints a vivid picture of what he plans to do to her.

“Imagine it, Scully. The fire is ablaze. Burning so hot we only keep our underwear on.” His fingers wander, dipping in and out of her molten, wet center. “You lay prone on the shag carpet, your pert little ass high in the air. I come up behind you. My tongue running along your skin from ankle to the top of your thigh.” Scully’s breath hitches, Mulder’s fingers quicken.

“And just when you think I’m going to end your torture…”Mulder moves to pull his hand out, but Scully has it in a vice grip with her own preventing from pulling out of her pants completely. Mulder moves to her other ear, “I start on the other side. You want it so bad, you pull your own panties down. And my god, Scully. Your cunt is soaked.” His fingers slide down once more. “Just like it is now.” He bites her earlobe as two fingers probe her entrance and begin a steady rhythm, his fingers bumping against the spongy tissue along her front wall.

“Who are you soaked for, Scully?”

Scully, trying to stay standing, has her head leaning back against Mulder’s shoulder. Her hips follow the movement of his fingers but once his thumb starts to circle around her clit, her knees almost buckle. “You,” she whispers softly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that.” His free hand comes up to unsnap the opening on her pants and lowers the zipper so his occupied hand has more room to tease her folds. The smell of her arousal prickles his senses. Scully moans into the skin of Mulder’s neck as she rides his fingers.

“Who are you soaked for?” He asks again.

“Oh fuck.” The sounds they’re making are obscene and it only makes Scully gush more. “Oh my—“

“Say it!” Mulder’s fingers rub furiously against her until she explodes.

“Youuuooooohhhhhhhh.” Mulder tightens his hold around her as her legs give out from under. “Holy shit, Mulder.” Scully takes in deep breaths to stabilize her heart rate.

He squeezes his arms around her, placing a soft kiss high on her cheekbone. As soon as he feels she’s found her footing, he lets her go. And she lets him have it.

“I can’t believe you! In the middle of someone else’s house?! I am so embarrassed!” She turns and heads out of the house and back to her car.

“It’ not like I heard you say no.” But it falls on deaf ears. He hears tires squeal off down the street.

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

Yep, really cool house.”

Scully scoffs beside him and walks off.

[xffictober24]

Getting Back

Happy Fictober! This time I am doing this a little different. A multi-chapter fic! So in order to understand what's going on, you'll have to read from the beginning. Chapter ratings will be posted with each installment.

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

Chapter 28 of 31 | Rated: PG-13 | tw: none | S11, Familiar

prompt: Just say what you want | tagging @today-in-fic

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

The door to the motel room swings open and Scully walks inside, ignoring a rampant Mulder behind her.

“Just say what you want to say, Scully.”

Scully turns back to face him, removing her coat and shoes all the while. Mulder places his coat over the back of one of the small chairs that line up under a small rounds table that has all their research spread out on top of it.

“I hate when you get like that, Mulder. Spouting your paranormal ideals and paranoia to me is one thing. Doing it in front of other respected members of the law is another.”

“You think I give a fuck what they think about me, Scully?”

Scully huffs out her annoyance. Of course he doesn’t care. But it’s the fact that he never stops to think about how she may be perceived is another. At least he should allow one of them to earn some respect. She’d almost lost it completely presenting her profile of the potential murder suspect. Now with Mulder mouthing off about magic circles and witchcraft, there was only so much respect they could earn back.

Scully begins to disrobe, grabbing a folded towel from on top of the bureau and heads into the bathroom to start the shower. Mulder still spewing off reasons why he’s right, is right behind her. The other clean towel is wrapped around his bare torso.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Scully looks at him over her shoulder.

“We’re not done here. Get in, I’ll wash your back.”

Surprisingly, this little motel has divine water pressure. Scully moans once the water rains down on them from above, the spray massaging her tense shoulders. Mulder turns her within his arms, tipping her head back to wet it. Reaching for her travel-sized shampoo, he makes a decent lather and begins massaging the shampoo into her hair.

“I don’t care what we were fighting about before. Your hands are magic, Fox Mulder.”

He chuckles at the compliment. “Thank you.”

“Just don’t go around sharing this gift with others. I have sole monopoly over you.”

His fingers card through her silky strands, keeping her head tipped so that the soap runs out. He pulls her up briefly to place a few chaste kisses upon her ready lips.

“Here, bend down. I’ll do you next.”

As he tips his head forward, Mulder replies, “That’s what she said.”

Scully playfully twists his left nipple, then squirts some of her shampoo into her hands to return the favor.

“Her name was Emily, Scully.”

Scully is silent, diligent in her movements. She was hoping they wouldn’t have to discuss this. Though her own Emily would have been a young adult now, probably about to graduate from college, should she had lived. Scully refuses to let the tears surface and instead focuses on the present.

Once he’s rinsed clean, she brings his mouth down to hers and softly kisses him repeatedly.

“Are you trying to get fresh with me, Scully?”

She reaches up to brush his wet hair back away from his face, his eyes shine with love and adoration for her.

“Let’s get out of here.” Scully pulls back the curtain, grabbing her towel to dry off while Mulder turns the shower off and begins doing the same.

Later, after the pizza is ordered and they gravitate toward one another on their lumpy motel-grade bed, Mulder confesses to Scully a question that was asked of him earlier in the day. Did he have children?

“It just came out as if I’d been saying it for years. ‘Yes, but he’s grown now.’”

“Well, you didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

“I know, but I can’t remember ever being asked that before. The pride I felt in my chest when I answered…” Mulder drifts off, his words caught in his throat.

“I thought of her as mine, Scully. Even though it may not have appeared that way, that I wasn’t supportive of you adopting Emily. I wanted her, too. I wanted her so much.” Tears leaked down the side of his face into the pillow.

“Oh, Mulder,” Scully leans on one arm, the other coming up to stroke his cheek. “I know. You were the best father to our babies when we had them. I couldn’t ask for anyone better than you. I hope you know that.” She places sweet kisses along his cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose.

“Think we’ll get another miracle, Scully?”

“I think you believe enough for the both of us.” Scully settles back down within his embrace, her leg coming up and over his hip to keep him close.

“I can’t wait to get out this town, Scully.”

“Me too, Mulder. Me too.”

[xffictober24]

Fictober Day 28: It's Like That

Prompt: "Just say what you want"

When Diana shows up at his door, Mulder has to choose: her or Scully? But in reality, it’s no choice at all. Rating: T, wc: 880.

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober24

At the knock on the door, Mulder opens it and while he knows it can’t be Scully, some stubborn part of him hopes it’s her anyway. Instead, it’s Diana’s face greeting him, her expression unreadable, and all he feels is the weight of disillusionment on his shoulders.

“Diana, hi,” he says, trying to sound surprised rather than disappointed.

“Fox.” She smiles at him and he remembers a time when her happiness meant the world to him.

“Is there anything you need?” Urgency slips into his voice; he’s on his way out and he doesn’t want to be late.

“Are you in a hurry? Relax, Fox. No one is chasing you.” She chuckles, but Mulder doesn’t see the humor in it. “I brought gifts.” She motions to the folder and the bottle of wine in her hand. Mulder cringes.

“I don’t-”

“Won’t you invite me in?” She cuts into his hesitation, trying to squeeze past him. She’s never been good at reading his body language.

“I can’t, Diana. I have somewhere to be.” That stops her. She stares at him, trying to find clues as to what his plans are on his face. Her lips pull into a grimace.

“You’re seeing Agent Scully?” Their dislike for each other is mutual, at least.

“I am.” Why should he lie about that? Diana licks her lip, a clear sign that she’s trying to come up with a plan B. Watching her, reading her like an old book from childhood that once brought him comfort but that he’s grown out of, he sees what Scully must be seeing every time Diana interferes with them.

He doesn’t doubt that Diana’s feelings for him are genuine; they’re old friends. But now he sees that there’s more. That she wants more. From him, and from this situation. He doesn’t want to question the why. He’s not going to risk losing her as a friend.

“A shame what happened.”

“Agent Ritter almost got her killed.” And in turn, Mulder almost lost his mind. He was that close to beating up the younger agent. A voice inside his mind that sounded suspiciously like Scully stopped him. He let the guy walk out of the hospital and went to see Scully.

He stayed as long as they would allow. Despite his begging, the nurses wouldn’t let him stay in Scully’s hospital room overnight.

Today, they’re letting her go home – under the condition that someone picks her up and stays with her for at least one night. Mulder had jumped at the chance.

“He’s young,” Diana says, glancing at her fingernails – neatly trimmed, with French tips. Some things simply never change. “He reminds me of you, you know. You were like that once.”

“I wasn’t. I never would have-” But he has endangered other people. Hell, he’s put Scully in danger time and again. “I just hope he stays away from Scully in the future,” he finishes.

“Be careful, Agent Mulder, or people will draw the wrong conclusions about your relationship to Agent Scully.”

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks, Diana.” She nods; she of all people should know that.

“Agent Scully might.”

“Diana,” he says, exasperated. “Just say what you want. I have plans.”

“When will you be back? I can wait here for you. You probably haven’t changed much in the apartment, have you?”

“I won’t be back anytime soon,” Mulder says, glancing at his watch. If he can’t get rid of Diana any time soon, he’ll be late. He doesn’t want to be late. Scully deserves better than that.

“I don’t mind. 10 p.m.? Midnight?” She’s not giving up.

“I won’t be home at all tonight, Diana.” His voice is soft, but he sees the impact on Diana’s face. “I’m staying with Scully.”

“Oh. It’s like that.” He doesn’t correct her. He doesn’t care what she thinks. He doesn’t want to hurt Diana; whatever Scully might think her motives are, Mulder still trusts her. But all he wants is a friendship and he sees – more clearly than ever now – that Diana is not there yet. She wants more and he can’t give it to her. He is not in that place anymore. Everything inside him wants Scully. Now, and in the future.

“It’s like that,” he confirms. No matter what his and Scully’s official status is, she is it for him. His heart is taken. So is his time. Another glance at his watch and he steps through the door, locking it behind him.

“I’m sorry, Diana. Maybe another time. Do you want me to drop you off somewhere?” She shakes her head.

“I’ll take a cab.” She hands Mulder the wine. “Take that with you.” He stares at the bottle. While Scully loves red wine – way more than he does, too – she’s not allowed to have any for a while. Not with her medication. He’s slipping into caretaker mode; he knows Scully would do the same for him if the roles were reserved. They have been often enough.

“See you, Diana,” he says and waves at her. He leaves her standing there and he knows she watches him leave, but there’s nothing he can do. Or want to do. Scully is expecting him and by her side is the only place he wants to be.

[xffictober24]

Fictober Day 27: Keeping A Professional Distance

Prompt: "Let me remind you"

For the anon who asked for: Instead of there is only one bed, there are too many beds. Rating: T, wc: 973

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober24

For Mulder, Chicago proves to be an unlucky place.

Thanks to a system error, their motel reservation has been canceled. But the receptionist quickly reassures him: “Don’t worry, we still have one room left.”

One room – for the two of them. Mulder glances at Scully; their budding relationship has yet to take flight. They’re still in that early phase, tiptoeing around each other. In short: they haven’t had sex yet.

Neither of them wants it to happen on assignment – even if they closed the case. The last time they shared a room, and a bed, was a year ago in Kroner, Kansas.

They had kept to their respective sides and everything had been civil. That had been before their kiss at New Year’s. Before the second and tenth kiss they’ve shared by now. Kissing is all they’ve done. Work always getting in the way of more.

And now said work is making them share a room.

“We don’t usually use this room,” the receptionist explains, pushing the door open wide. It’s easy to see why. “This is where we store our extra beds. Pick whichever one you like. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“This is…something,” Mulder mumbles once they’re alone. The whole room looks as if someone’s played Tetris using real beds. There’s a narrow path from the door to the bathroom and that’s it. The rest is beds of various sizes.

“Well, at least we won’t have to worry about where to sleep.” Scully tosses her overnight bag onto one of the beds and squeezes past him to get to the bathroom. Mulder just stares at the plethora of sleeping places and can’t help but feel overwhelmed.

What are the odds of them getting stuck in one room with not one, but an abundance of beds? Somewhere someone is laughing, he’s sure of it. He closes his eyes and throws his bag; wherever it lands, he’ll sleep.

It’s just his luck that it lands on the bed farthest away from Scully’s.

*

Nine beds – yes, he counted – and not a single TV in this dreadful motel room. Mulder knows he should sleep. If for no other reason than it knocking him out until they can leave this place.

For a man who slept on his couch for years, a room full of beds resembles a nightmare. And the fact that Scully is in this room, too, but so far away that he can barely hear her breathe, is making him anxious.

He could have switched beds. Hell, he still could, but he wouldn’t want Scully to think he has any ulterior motives.

“Mulder, I can hear you think from here,” she says, surprising him. He was certain she was asleep already. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Why aren’t you?”

“I asked you first.” He wishes he could see her. How can they be so close and yet so far away at the same time? He wonders what she’d say if he asked her to move closer.

“This room is creepy.”

“It’s not what I expected,” Scully acknowledges.

“How is your bed?” Mulder asks. “Comfy?”

“It’s nice enough.”

“Are you cold at all?”

“No,” she says and he can’t tell if he wants to hear disappointment in her voice or if it’s actually there.

“You’re not cold, you’re comfortable, so why are you awake?” Mulder hears shuffling from across the room. When Scully speaks next, it sounds closer than before.

“I was thinking about Henry Weems,” she says. “About cause and effect.”

“You’re having profound thoughts and here I am, counting the beds in this room, trying to calculate the distance between mine and yours.”

“Why?”

She may be the one with the degree in physics, but he’s certain her voice is even closer. Or maybe he’s imagining things again.

“Let me remind you that there are nine beds in this room,” Mulder says. “And somehow we ended up on opposite ends of the room. I’m sure the FBI will appreciate us keeping our distance.”

“I’m not.” It’s a whisper, but he hears it loud and clear because she’s right next to him. He blinks a few times, just to make sure she’s real and not a trick of his imagination.

“Hi,” he says with a smile.

“Hi.”

“Got lonely?”

“Yes,” she admits shyly. “I hope you don’t mind. I just wanted to be… closer.”

“Why would I mind?” he asks quietly, the darkness surrounding them making it easier to admit it.

“Like you said, there are nine beds. When they told us there was only one room, I thought… well, you can imagine what I thought.”

“So did I,” he says. “And I wasn’t sure what- what to make of it. We haven’t exactly done that yet.”

“We’re adults, Mulder.”

“Then why is it so difficult to talk about it?” He laughs gently.

“I’m glad there’s more than one bed.” He knows she’s right, but her admission feels like a needle prick to his heart – and his ego. “We’re not forced to share a bed,” she goes on and suddenly, she’s no longer in another bed at all. She’s in his. Snuggling against him like a cat. “We’re doing this because we want to.”

“What’s the FBI gonna say?” he murmurs into her hair, his eyes fluttering shut. He presses a warm kiss against her hairline.

“They’ll never know.” She shifts in his arms and starts kissing his jaw, his cheeks, and then, finally, his mouth. Will he ever not be amazed that they do this now? Will he ever get used to her intoxicating taste? He can’t imagine that he will. He can’t get enough of her.

“There were nine beds,” Mulder mumbles into her mouth, “and we kept a professional distance.”

“Of course we did,” Scully replies, deepening the kiss.

Mulder thinks that maybe his luck is about to change after all.

[xffictober24]

Fictober Day 26: Let's Give Them Something To Talk About

Prompt: "You were the first"

@living-in-unreality sent in this ask: Mulder or Scully overhears office gossip about two other agents being placed on separate teams after their workplace relationship was discovered. Bonus points if it happens when the MSR pining is at its peak and they are still scared to take that leap. Rating: T, wc: 1,580

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober24

Over the years, he’s been the topic of office gossip more than once. So when he sees the huddled group and hears the whispering, his mind kicks into overdrive, wondering what he—or they—might have done this time.

But he can’t come up with anything. He and Scully have been model agents of decorum. So what is it about?

He inches closer, trying not to draw any attention to himself. While most agents know him by reputation, few engage in idle chit-chat with him. Then one of the men spots him and crooks a finger at him.

“Spooky, have you heard?” He decides to ignore the dreaded nickname and lets himself be drawn into the circle. He catches a whiff of entitlement and a hint of contempt. But his curiosity is too strong to step away.

“Heard what?”

“The Anderson and Davis affair.” Mulder has no idea who these people are or what they’ve done. His expression must say as much because the agent continues. Not after he rolls his eyes, though.

“They did the nasty. Hooked up. They were found out and have been put on separate teams. I think if Kersh could have, he would have transferred one of them out of state.” Everyone except Mulder laughs. His ears are ringing. He may not know who these two agents are, and he may not be in this exact situation, but it hits far too close to home.

“It’s like I always say,” one of the other agents says. Mulder is certain he’s seen him before, but can’t place him.

“Don’t shit where you eat and don’t fuck where you work.” Another round of laughter makes Mulder feel queasy. He excuses himself, unsure if anyone hears him or even cares. He himself doesn’t care.

The only thing he thinks about is what he’s just witnessed. A team split up because of a personal, romantic relationship. His thoughts jump to Scully. To their journey toward more than friends and partners. What if this happened to them? God knows they’ve tried to separate them before. He can’t let it happen. He can’t risk losing her.

*

Scully’s eyes are burning a hole into his temple. They’re challenging him to turn and give her a sign or anything to assure her he’s okay. But he keeps his head and eyes forward. He’s not paying attention to the meeting at all; that in itself is nothing unusual.

More often than not, Mulder and Scully will doodle, share a crossword puzzle, or even send notes back and forth. Like a couple of teenagers. His reluctance to face her has consequences too. Someone elbows him in the ribs and then there’s a neatly folded piece of paper in front of him.

“Are you okay?” Only Scully would send a note like this. It’s so her that he almost smiles. Instead, and with great difficulty, he screws the note up and puts it in his pocket.

He’s so tempted to turn to her and see her expression, but he doesn’t dare. He’ll crumble. He knows he’s on borrowed time as it is; as soon as this meeting is over, Scully will find him. His queasiness returns and he swallows hard.

Once the meeting is over, Mulder grabs his things and flees the conference room. He’s lucky that he’s tall and broad; agents step aside and let him through.

“Mulder.” Scully’s voice is too demanding to keep walking. He freezes and turns to her.

“Are you okay? What’s the matter?” It’s the worry in her tone and expression that gets him.

“Not feeling well,” he mumbles. At least it’s only half a lie.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She puts her hand on his forehead and he winces. What if someone sees them? What if they draw the wrong conclusions? He bats her hand away, and the hurt in her eyes is too much for him to bear.

“I’m just gonna- going home. See you.” Her eyes follow him as he stalks off. What the hell is he going to do now?

*

The knock doesn’t surprise him; he expected it. What surprises him is how long Scully stayed away. He opens the door and there she is, holding a plastic bag.

“Hey,” he says.

“How are you feeling?” He shrugs. “I brought you chicken soup.” That’s his Scully. Against his better judgment, he opens the door wider and she steps inside, walking in under his still outstretched arm.

“I didn’t make it,” she says, unloading the bag in his kitchen. “I wouldn’t want you to feel worse.” A smile flits across her face. It only fades when she sees his blank face.

“Did something happen?” she asks point blank, crossing her arms in front of her chest. In that moment she reminds him of Diana. He’s wise enough not to mention it – even if it would drive her away. He doesn’t want to hurt her. None of this is her fault.

In the past, when no one cared what agents did in their private lives, and when he and Diana could have been Anderson and Davis – whoever they are – she’d close herself off to him just like this. She’d wanted space when he wanted closeness. It wasn’t that either of them were bad people; they had just never worked.

“Mulder, please, whatever it is, we-”

“I heard some gossip today.” That doesn’t faze Scully. What must the gossip mill be like in the ladies’ room? The men are bad enough as it is.

“About us? That’s nothing new, is it? Just ignore it.”

“Not about us,” he admits, biting his lip. “Do you know Anderson and Davis?” Her eyes grow wide.

“I know Agent Davis,” she says. “Why? Did something happen to them?”

“In a manner of speaking. They were caught and split up.”

“Caught?” Scully asks and he realizes that she isn’t grasping what he doesn’t want to say out loud.

“They were more than partners.” The penny still hasn’t dropped. “They were in a relationship,” Mulder explains. “A romantic relationship.”

“So?”

“So? I’m not going to- Scully, they were split up because they’re dating.”

“That’s against regulations,” Scully says, sounding sure of herself. Mulder shakes his head.

“I heard it, Scully.”

“Where?” Her voice is laced with suspicion and her arms are still crossed.

“In front of the men’s room.”

“Oh, Mulder. How do you even know they were telling the truth? Do you know what insane rumors are making the rounds in the Hoover building?”

“But… Anderson and Davis have been put on separate teams. I checked.” He didn’t do it to get proof. He wanted to put faces to their names. For a while, he just stared at their ID pictures. There was nothing particularly special about them; Mulder has probably crossed their path several times in the last few years.

“They could have been split up for a number of reasons. There’s no rule against partners dating.”

“How do you know that?” Scully blushes.

“I checked.”

“When?” He needs to know.

“Recently,” she admits, clearing her throat. “That’s not the point, Mulder. You’ve been acting strange all day. What does this rumor have to do with anything?”

“When I heard what happened,” Mulder says, “you were the first… the first thought that crossed my mind.”

“Me?”

“You and… me. I know I’m presuming things here and we’re not- but we could maybe eventually and I panicked.”

“And instead of telling me this, you thought you’d ignore me, pretend to be sick, and run off?”

“Well, when you say it like that,” he says, smiling sheepishly. “I couldn’t – I can’t risk losing you, Scully. That’s all. I couldn’t get it out of my head. What if someone saw us play baseball the other night?”

His most cherished memory, now tainted. Just the thought. He imagines someone keeping tabs on them, waiting for them to cross the line. He had wanted to kiss her so badly. All the stars had aligned – literally. And he’d chickened out. Now he thinks that maybe it was better this way.

“What we do in our private time is our business.”

“Apparently not,” Mulder mumbles.

“Mulder, you don’t know what happened. They might have been frisky while on assignment or at work. And either way, we’re not like them.” It takes him a moment to catch her meaning. They’re not like them. What she’s saying is that they’re not at risk because she isn’t interested in changing their relationship at all. Once again, he’s been misreading all the signs.

“No,” he says dejectedly. “We’re not.”

“No, Mulder, you don’t understand.” She sighs, invading his personal space. “When we- when that happens, we’ll inform HR.”

When – not if.

“What you’re saying is?”

“Please presume things,” she says. She smiles at him before she gets on her tiptoes and presses a kiss to his lips. He blinks as rapidly as his heart beats. “I leafed through the regulations last month,” Scully confesses with pink cheeks. “While romantic relationships are not encouraged, they’re not forbidden. All you have to do is disclose them to HR.”

“We can do that,” he says, his spirits lifting. She nods, unable to hide her smile.

“And I could have just told you that earlier, but you decided to play possum.”

“Gotta add some spice sometimes, Scully.” He grins at her. “So, when do you think we should let HR know?”

“Tomorrow.” She’s in his arms, kissing him, and he’s agreeing with everything she says and does.

[xffictober24]

X-Files OctoberFicFest Day 24: Decompress

Here you go @calimanc 💞

She's had a long fucking day. She couldn't even begin to detail what's been so exhausting about it. She's too worn out. It was all the things she did and all the people she dealt with and the disappointing sandwich at lunch she only ate a few bites of and the pebble that nearly turned her ankle and the weird smell in her car from some fast food remnant that had gotten lodged under the seat somehow. Just one damn thing after the other from the moment her alarm went off. The coffee filter overflowed and she got a mouthful of grounds. Her favorite pen disappeared. Her coat pocket has a hole in it and there are miscellaneous little objects inside the lining that bump against her as she walks.

Scully just wants to lie down and hope sleep overtakes her before hunger does.

She opens her apartment door and recoils, her hand going to the grip of her pistol. Someone's been here. Someone is here, or at least she hopes so, because there are lit candles on her table. Artfully arranged around them is a tasteful display of takeout boxes. She sniffs: steamed rice, General Tso's chicken, beef with broccoli, and the off-menu garlic eggplant she can't resist. All her favorites. There's a container of egg drop soup, too, and a greasy bag that surely contains egg rolls. The tv is on, the opening scene of The Exorcist frozen on the screen.

Mulder emerges from her bathroom. "I couldn't find napkins," he says, brandishing a couple of washcloths.

She steps into the apartment and takes the washcloths from him. "Napkins are in the kitchen."

"I didn't want to go through all your drawers," he says with a cheeky little wink.

She tosses the washcloths onto the little table with the answering machine and goes to get cloth napkins out of the drawer in which she keeps them, as if she throws a lot of dinner parties. As if she's thrown any since her father passed away. But she still has the napkins. They're aspirational. She hands a couple to Mulder and he puts them on the table, silverware arrayed on top. He puts the cutlery down correctly next to the plates, which doesn't really surprise her; he has those old-money manners.

She's too tired to even ask him why he's here. She looks at him mutely, one eyebrow ghosting higher.

"You skipped lunch, Scully," he says, answering her unspoken question as he helps her out of her jacket and hangs it up.

"I had a sandwich," she says in a doubtful voice.

"You had two bites of a sandwich." He pats the back of a chair. "Sit down."

She sits. He spoons portions of the various dishes onto her plate, adds an egg roll with a flourish. He brings her a glass of water with just the right amount of ice. He sits and serves himself, and they eat. He talks, but he doesn't ask her questions. It's what she thinks of as Mulderchatter, an endless patter of interesting facts and outlandish theories. It washes over her like a warm bath.

When they've eaten, he maneuvers her to the couch and washes the dishes. The leftovers are stored tidily in the fridge. The candles are snuffed. When he's done, he joins her. She's just staring into space. He picks up her remote, presses play, pulls her feet into his lap, and takes off her shoes. He squeezes her feet gently with his big hands. It feels nice. She's too tender to want the pressure of a real massage, either emotional or physical.

They watch the movie. She's seen it a number of times, can mouth some of the dialogue. He flinches at the scary moments, which is satisfying, because she doesn't. She lets herself drift, anchored by the weight of his hands still cupped over her feet. By the time the movie's over, she's half-asleep.

Mulder wiggles out from under her feet and scoops her up, helping her stand. He slips one arm around her and walks her to her bedroom. There's a pair of clean pajamas lying on her comforter, so he did go through some of her drawers. Somehow that's comforting too, even though she's absolutely certain he's now seen her underwear. He's seen it before. She's got nothing to hide from him.

"Don't go yet," she says. "Please."

"You got me," he promises.

He turns his back while she changes. When she's done, he helps her into the bed. She stares up at him until he sits on the edge of her mattress. He toes off his shoes. She scoots over to make room for him and he lies down on top of the covers. He puts his arm over her.

She shouldn't be soothed by this, probably, but she is. She accepts that about herself at this point. She tries to be superhuman, but everyone needs touch. She's not a wire monkey. She needs Mulder: the bulk of his body next to hers, the even rhythm of his breathing, the faint whiff of cologne from his skin.

She knows he'll be gone when she wakes up, but he'll stay until she's at peace. That's what matters. He did this for her: saw her aching inarticulate need and brought her gifts to nourish her, body and soul.

"Mulder," she mumbles.

"I'm here," he assures her, and she thinks she feels his lips brush her forehead, but she's already sliding into sleep. It's all right. He knows.