#MSR Trainings

[msrtraining]

MSR Trainings offers DevOps online training through worldwide, Learn DevOps Training Institute in Hyderabad from the Experts at MSR Trainings. DevOps Course in Australia, UAE, UK, USA, Qatar, Singapore, Malaysia, Canada, France, India, Kuwait.

[yeah-alright-brill]

I have come to realise I have a definate type when it comes to ships:

Call it 'undiagnosed autistic malewife x bisexual girlboss who both have a dangerous job together that puts them in near-death situations.'

[jtt-033-1613]

every time another character refers to Scully as ‘miss’ and not ‘doctor’ i scream at the tv

[buzziightqueer]

i love War of the Coprophages but CAN MULDER STOP HANGING UP ON SCULLY i just woke up and this is my first concern.. he had her sleeping WITH the phone in bed incase he called so that she could immediately pick up and ask if he was alright 😭 s3 was one of my favorites (maybe my fav) but the miscommunication is SOOOO

[atths--twice]

The Journey Home

After the fear surrounding their failed reunion, Scully realizes that the only place she and William need to be is with Mulder- wherever that may lead.

I wrote this story last year for the MSR Fanzine and today I am able to share it with you all. Hope you enjoy it.

Late January, 2002

9:58 p.m. 

The apartment was lit by only a couple of lights as Scully placed clothes into the large, black duffel bag that sat on her bed. She was precise with her choices; only packing what she needed now and not further into the future. 

Taking her dark blue toiletry bag into the bathroom, she added only the bare minimum of items. Soaps, shampoo, conditioner, toothbrush and toothpaste, tampons, and her makeup bag. Zipping the golden zipper, she switched off the light and left the room. 

Packing it beside her sweaters, she picked out three pairs of shoes. Boots and a pair of sneakers were added to the duffel, the other pair left out to be worn. She closed her eyes, letting out a deep breath. 

“Nearly done. Come on,” she whispered and then opened her eyes. 

Adding a blanket to the duffel, she looked around the room before nodding as she zipped and secured the bag. Carrying it silently out of her room, she set it beside William’s matching bag she had packed earlier that day. 

Every article of his clothing, extra diapers and wipes, blankets, some toys, extra bottles, her breast pump, and his own toiletry bag were packed, ready for their rapidly approaching departure. 

From the kitchen chair, she picked up the backpack she would now be using as William’s diaper bag. 

Running her hand along the back side of it, she drew in a breath, tears stinging her eyes as she thought of the other contents it held. 

Three days ago, she had come to the Gunmen’s at their request, where they presented her with items Mulder had asked them to procure before he’d had to leave.  

Doctored passports, driver’s licenses, social security cards, and birth certificates. A handful of credit cards bearing fake names that had been chosen. A substantial amount of cash, along with information to account numbers for three bank accounts, all of them in different names that matched the drivers licenses. 

“He didn’t tell me,” she had whispered, looking at the picture of herself on a license which bore the name Sally Stenson. 

“He wanted to be sure things were ready, just in case they would be needed,” Byers had said and she laughed out a small sob. 

“Well, they definitely are,” she had said, remembering how she felt just a couple of days ago as she stood on the train platform, watching the train passing her by, knowing Mulder had been on it and she had been unable to reach him. Sighing, she set the license down. 

“Alright,” Frohike had said suddenly and rather gruffly, picking everything up. “I got this.” He had left the room without looking back and she stared after him in confusion. 

Byers had sighed and when she looked at him, she saw sadness in his and Langly’s eyes. 

“It’s not how I want this to be,” she had said and Byers shook his head as he touched her arm and attempted a smile. 

“No. It’s how it needs to be.” 

Late last night, a soft knock sounded at her apartment door and for a second she had stood frozen. She had reached for her gun and walked quietly to check who it was and had seen Frohike standing on the other side, holding a beat up leather backpack in his hands. 

“It’s all in here,” he had said, stepping across the threshold as she closed the door and set the gun down on the table. “This is an old backpack of mine that I used a long time ago. There’s space that I created between the lining where I would put stuff I didn’t want seen by the fuzz. I’ve put everything of yours in there and sewn it up, to keep it hidden. When you get where you’re going… you take it out and keep it somewhere safe.” 

“Frohike,” she had breathed, taking the backpack from him. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, looking down at the ground and then back up at her. “Be careful. Take care of each other.” 

“We will. Thank you.” 

She hugged him, thanking him again, and he left immediately after the embrace had ended. 

He had done the job perfectly. No one would ever suspect what was hidden within the backpack unless they literally tore it apart. 

Placing it beside the duffel bags, she clasped her hands together and looked around the apartment that she had lived in for so long. 

Anything that held sentimental value had been taken to her mother’s house two days ago for safekeeping, including the fish tank and all the fish. Everything else would be taken care of once she and William were gone, Byers had assured her, though she found she was not really worried about it. 

Leaving behind the physical was surprisingly easy, with the exception of her mother. 

Her mother understood why they had to leave, but that did not mean she wanted it to happen. It had been a very tearful goodbye and watching her holding William until the last possible second, had almost caused Scully to change her mind. 

Almost. 

But she had to go. And they both knew it. 

There were too many worries and questions that weighed on her and she needed to be with Mulder to figure them out.  

Glancing at the clock with a sigh, she hurried to the bathroom to take a quick shower, change her clothes, and put on her sneakers. 

Hurrying through her last few tasks, a light knock sounded at the door and she jumped. Another two knocks and she knew it was Langly. 

He walked in silently, picked up the bags, and carried them down to the waiting van as she put on the backpack and then placed a sleeping William into the carrier sling, shushing him softly when he began to fuss. 

Nodding resolutely as she gently patted William’s back, she walked out the door, locking it behind her. 

Frohike took the backpack from her as he helped her inside, sitting down on the floorboard and leaning against the side of the van. It was unsafe and illegal, but she did not care so long as she would not be seen as they drove. 

“We'll take the back streets, stay off the highway,” Byers said from the driver's seat. “Should be there in about twenty minutes.” 

“Okay,” she said, closing her eyes as she held William close when he whimpered in his sleep. 

Twenty minutes felt both like forever and no time at all when they reached the station and Byers parked the van. Langly got out, grabbing the bags, as Frohike stepped out with the backpack and reached a hand in to help Scully. 

He took a paper bag from the backseat and placed it into the backpack along with two bottles of water before he closed it up and helped her put it on. 

“I made you some breakfast burritos,” Frohike said, his voice gruff once again. “They should be good for the journey. Stay in your compartment. Don’t come out until you reach him.” 

“Right,” Scully said with a nod as she adjusted both the backpack and William’s carrier. 

She stared at all of them as Byers walked up to join them, the keys held nervously in his hands. 

“Thank you for everything,” she said softly, tears pricking at her eyes. “Thank you for… being there for both of us. All of us.” She rubbed William’s back and they nodded. “I…” 

“You need to get going, Agent Scully,” Byers said, taking her ticket from his inside jacket pocket and handing it to her. “Be careful.” 

“We will.” 

She grasped his hand and he nodded, smiling softly. Frohike sighed as she looked at him and stepped forward to embrace him. 

“Goodbye,” she whispered and he grunted, patting her back. 

Langly walked beside her to the train platform, carrying her bags. They waited silently until it arrived and he followed her to her compartment. Setting the bags down, he hugged her quickly, hurrying from the train as it began to leave the station. 

Standing by the window, she watched him run to join the others. They all held up a hand and she did the same, staying until she could no longer see them, and then stepping inside of her compartment and locking the door. 

Making up the small bed, she stacked the duffel bags in front of the door. Taking off her shoes, she laid down with William in her arms, exhaustion overtaking her as she fell asleep instantly, the train bouncing along as it carried them west. 

__________

Nearly a full day was spent in the compartment, opening the door only to hand her ticket to the ticket agent, her gun held out of his view, just in case. Thanks to the food and water Frohike had provided, and the bathroom in her small room, she did not have any need to leave. 

She created a safe space for both of them, William wide eyed as he looked out the windows and the world beyond them. 

When the next stop was announced, the town in which she and Mulder had previously arranged to meet, Scully felt her stomach drop. The bags were repacked, William once again in his carrier sling and her backpack on, when she opened the doors to leave. 

It was dark outside, the winter sun already down when she bumped down the hallway with her cumbersome bags. A kind older man offered to help her, but she graciously refused.  

The brakes squealed as the train began to slow and she stood waiting at the door, her bags in her hands and heart racing. William shifted and she looked down at him with a smile. He smiled back and she let out a deep breath when the train stopped completely. 

The doors opened and she swallowed hard as she made her way off the train. The ticket attendant appeared and helped her, placing her bags on the ground beside her with a smile. 

Scully picked up her bags and walked away from the people milling about the platform as quickly as she could, considering the awkward weight of the bags she carried. Her eyes were peeled for the enclosed bus stop, praying Mulder had done as he had planned and taken out the overhead light to keep them in darkness.  

Catching sight of the small building, her pace and heart rate quickened, looking over her shoulder and thankfully finding no one following her. 

As she approached, a figure stepped from the building, but remained standing in the darkened doorway. She paused before she recognized the person’s frame and she whimpered softly, moving faster. 

The bags were abandoned as she reached him, her arms outstretched as he stepped towards her. 

“Scully,” he breathed, pulling her into his arms, William protesting in loud surprise as he did. She laughed, tears in her eyes, as she hugged him back. “God, I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you too. So much,” she said, over the sound of William’s cries. Mulder held her tighter, whispering her name into her hair. 

Pulling back, he held her face in his hands and kissed her softly three times. He shook his head, his thumbs rubbing her cheeks as he smiled. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too,” she said, holding onto his wrists, her tears spilling over. 

“And you,” he said, letting go of her face and opening the sling carrier to look down at William. “How are you, my son? God, he’s gotten so big. Can… can I hold him?” 

“Of course you can.” 

He took him from the carrier and held him, smiling as he stopped crying and stared, looking from Mulder to Scully. He smiled, shoving a fist into his mouth and Mulder chuckled as he shook his head again. 

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, kissing him and then her again. He bent to pick up one of the bags as Scully picked up the other one. He smiled at her and she smiled back as she wiped the tears from her cheeks, William blowing raspberries as they began to walk from the darkness to Mulder’s car. 

_____________

Two years later, in a small town in Tennessee, a taxi drove up a long dirt road, stopping in front of a farmhouse with a large wraparound porch. Rocking chairs, big and small, adorned it. Potted plants were set out by the pillars along the porch, many bright colored flowers sprouting from them. Two different sized swings were hanging at the end of the porch, the grass around the house green and luscious. 

The taxi driver stepped out to take the two large suitcases from the trunk as the screen door squeaked open and then slammed closed. Scully hurried across the porch to greet her mother who had just gotten out of the taxi and was looking at her with a teary smile.

“Mom,” Scully said, tears clogging her throat. 

“Oh, Dana,” Maggie said, holding her tightly, both of them crying happily as the screen door squeaked open again. 

“Mama?” William asked and Maggie laughed as she stepped back to see the little boy she had missed every day for the past two years. 

She walked up the steps to take him from Mulder, who handed him over with a smile, as he helped Scully with the suitcases, the taxi driving away. 

Hours later, the sun setting, Scully stood watching William and her mother sitting together on one of the swings, William pointing and jabbering away to her as the swing moved slowly and she laughed. 

“Hey,” Mulder said softly, his arm going around Scully’s shoulders. She wrapped her arms around his waist, sighing contentedly. “Are you happy?” 

“Yes. Very happy.” 

“Good.” 

“And you?” she asked, looking up at him. 

He looked down at her and smiled, letting that be his answer and she smiled back, her hold on him tightening as he put his other arm around her. 

“Good,” she said, resting her cheek against his chest as he hummed and kissed the top of her head. 

“Yeah,” he said. 

Somewhere nearby a dog barked, prompting William to repeat the sound, causing all of them to laugh. Maggie made the swing go a little higher as William barked again and she pulled him onto her lap. 

“Oh, William,” she said, kissing his head and sighing. “I’ve missed you and I love you so much.” 

“I’m beyond happy,” Scully whispered, her eyes closing as a warm breeze whistled through the grass and trees, Mulder humming again as his hand moved gently up and down her back. 

[carefulfears]

thinking about how expectant of her own death scully always was, but how completely struck by shock she was in mulder’s, despite how clear it had always been that he would one day die for the cause. tragedy in the x-files as something you should have been prepared for, but never could be, in scully standing at a funeral, as her mother had stood at her father’s, and barely being able to speak. she should be able to do this? bred to be a war widow, attached to an endless line. but no matter how many times she saw him put that gun to himself, or run off in front of another, she really did believe that he would always come back. she really did believe that there would never be a day where he didn’t just appear in the doorway again.

[universalsatan]

kinda wanna set up a betting pool for the ao3 ship brackets. i don’t even know who with, i just wanna be right

[ladychandraofthemoone]

“They’ll never give each other proper bouquets :’(“

Separate pictures undercut:

[whumpster-fire]

Lost Custody of My OCs In Internet Court Club meets M-W-F 3AM at AO3. Complimentary cinnamon rolls provided.

#lost a few braincells reading some of these#fandom problems#tags that passed peer review#(look 'lost custody of my ocs in court' is pretty funny)#(i'm glad that's not a thing or some of y'all would have wrangled poppet from me already)

ok though this made me giggle at the mental image of a big sign outside Barrow Central Station saying: "EXPECT SIGNIFICANT DELAYS OF ALL TRAINS TODAY. LOST CUSTODY OF OUR STATION PILOT IN COURT. WE APOLOGIZE FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE."

not submission. I really hate the "My OC, my rules" thing. Cause like, no? Just because they are your oc doesn't mean you can do whatever you want with them. If you want to make your oc suffer and not like them get help, you deserve to lose rights over them. Especially if you only do that stuff to purposely trigger people. Once you do that, your oc no longer belongs to you. they belong to the public who will take better care of them instead

Making a comment to get this to post.

[midnight-star-world]

Josh Turner - This Country Music Thing

#CountryMusic

So today on the MSR (Midnight Star Review), I will like to talk about the latest Country Music Album from Country Music Singer Josh Turner. The new album is titled "This Country Music Thing" and was released on Friday August 16th, 2024, but as always before we dive into new 11 track project. Let's talk about Josh's career highlights for a little bit first.

Some of the biggest hits from Josh are songs like "Your man", "Good ol' boys", & "Why don't we just dance". Other big hits from Josh as well include songs like "Long black train", "Me and God", & "Time is love". But before we dive too far off track, let's jump back to this new CD next.

The title track is "This Country music thing", "Down in Georgia", & "If you ain't with me". Other songs from this album you should also check out include "I just wanna kiss you", "Somewhere with her", & "Whirlwind" The stand out songs in my opinion are "Heatin' things up", "Two steppin' on the moon", "Pretty please", & "Unsung hero". He also mentions Country Music Legends Randy Travis, & John Anderson. Josh had a hand in co-writting 3 out of 11. Rhett Akins also co-wrote as well. Let's see the rest of the track list up next.

Track list.

Down in Georgia.

If you ain't with me.

I just wanna kiss you.

Heatin' things up.

This Country Music thing.

My side.

Two steppin' on the moon.

Somewhere with her.

Whirlwind.

Pretty please.

Unsung hero.

And that's a wrap for the track list. And on the MSR (Midnight Star Review), I would give this new album a 4 out of 5 stars. Pretty good album that just needed a little more in my opinion. There are 3 stand out songs in my opinion. Thanks for taking the time to read this review. See ya all next time.

[msrtraining]

MSR Trainings offers Cypress online training through worldwide, Learn Cypress Training Institute in Hyderabad from the Experts at MSR Trainings. Cypress Course in Australia, UAE, UK, USA, Qatar, Singapore, Malaysia, Canada, France, India, Kuwait.

[howtofightwrite]

Hey! I'm writing a series with a character who is a sniper. She is a private hire and ends up meeting someone who works with shorter ranged guns and weapons.

I'm just wondering how they would differ when killing someone and what are the tells of each weapon. I want to make it clear that the weapons are different but I'm not sure what those differences are

So, something that stuck out to me originally, when reading this is, most snipers are going to have a close range PDW. Whether that's just their sidearm or something more substantial, they'd need to be proficient with something in close quarters if it comes to that.

Now, the hard part about answering this question in the abstract is that, almost everything associated with firearms is extremely date sensitive.

For example, if your CQB/CQC character was originally trained sometime in the late 90s to late 2000s (in a Western country), they'd have likely encountered Center Axis Re-lock. Outside of those 20 years, then that style hadn't seen widespread adoption, or had fallen out of favor.

For some specific film examples, Vincent (Tom Cruise) from Collateral (2004) would have been working as an assassin for at least a decade by the time we see him in the film. We can make this assessment based on the way he handles the USP, and then compare to CQC training. His one-handed disarm and execute he uses in the alley puts his training sometime in the 80s to 90s at the earliest, while his lack of CAR in close quarters tells you he didn't have Western military or law enforcement training after the mid-90s.

Another film example that might surprise you is John Wick (Keanu Reeves). In those films he exhibits CQC training that suggests he still in the military less than 15 years before the events of the first film. Except his CAR stances are actually a little sloppy (which is unusual for Reeves), which suggests that Wick may have observed others using the stance, and then improvised a version of it for his own use. Meaning you can't really estimate when his combat training occurred. (This might also might explain why he's a bit sloppy about when he switches between Weaver and CAR.) By the way, it is quite difficult to pick this out. It took a few experts dinging on the first Wick film before I really started picking up on the issues with Reeves' technique. And I haven't seen anyone else draw the conclusion that Wick is probably self-taught in CAR. (This was corrected for the later films, as Reeves did get proper training in CAR in preparation for the second film.)

In particular, this is a singular example, but there are a lot of things someone can do that will inform you about their background and training. This starts with weapon selection. Things like their preferred sidearm and primary can be very insightful. People tend to go in one of two directions with firearms. Either, they're very willing to adapt and experiment, or they'll find something they're comfortable with and hone in with that specific firearm.

For example, is your sniper carrying around a Remington 700, or something like an MSR or AWM? Both are legitimate answers, but they say very different things about how your character approaches their area of expertise. Similarly, are they carrying a 1911 pattern pistol, or something more modern, like an HK USP or FN P45?

If your sniper is carrying around an AMT Hardballer, and your CQC specialist is carrying around a P45t, your CQC specialist has twice the magazine capacity. They can afford to dump rounds into someone until they stop twitching. Where as a Hardballer is “just” an extremely well made 1911. Their kills are going to look different, but it's a function of the weapon they chose.

Without knowing what they're carrying, it's very hard to answer definitively how their kills will look.

If it was me, kitting out for CQC in a situation where I'd need to hide the weapon under a jacket, I'd seriously consider an AAC Honey Badger hidden under a sport coat. (I know, I trash talked the Honey Badger a few years ago, before getting a good look at one and seeing just how tiny they are. Mea Culpa. I should know better than to shit on a gun I'm unfamiliar with by now. That's a toxic element of gun culture I've been trying to get away from. It still clings a bit sometimes.) Similarly, the Mk18 and Colt 733 are also pretty good options. That's a little bit of an M4a1 bias, but it's a decent platform. There are other valid options, those are just the first that come to mind for me.

If your character was kitting for CQC, and wanted Warsaw pact weapons, the Groza is a bit exotic, but that's what it was designed for. The SR-3M Vikhr is an update of the Val, and a pretty legitimate choice. They're both 9x39mm rifles, so long range accuracy isn't happening, but in close quarters they still hit stupidly hard. Granted, any Krinkov would work in that role. (So, mostly AKS-74Us.) (I think there were some 7.62x39mm Krinkovs, but I can't remember the name.)

So, ultimately, identifying the differences between the weapons, starts with knowing what the weapons are. Having a basic idea of how they handle (even if that's not first hand), and then being able to see how they differ from one another. This is made even harder in the sense that modern firearms have become extremely modular. Given the option to fully kit out the same gun for you CQC specialist, it's a pretty good bet you and I would walk away with distinctly different end results. Even if the base model was the same. (For the record, I'm not saying my configuration would be better. I have biases and preferences that aren't necessarily the best option available.)

The best place to start, is looking at the kinds of weapons your character would use. Your sniper's going to want a long range precision rifle and a sidearm. She might also go for a small machine pistol/SMG. Your CQC specialist would probably prioritize an actual primary. That might be an SMG, a carbine, or even a shotgun (because nothing says hello quite like three or four 12 gauge shells pumped out of a fully automatic Saiga. (And before someone corrects me, yes, I know, there are no production full-auto Saigas, however they can be illegally modified for full-auto.)

Once you know how different the weapons are, you can start digging into how the characters themselves approach combat, and how their respective styles differ.

-Starke

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’re already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

[unremarkablehouse]

you know Scully preemptively got the coastguards out to get him the moment he told her he was in the water…

average day in the life of fox mulder

[aloysiavirgata]

Skinner POV on post-S5 MSR. I trust this to no hands but yours, empress.

It was in Baltimore. Kidnapping victim, some Congressman’s girlfriend dredged from the Harbor and up they all went, silent and shifty in a big Bureau Suburban.

***

He’s been touching Scully obscenely for years, Mulder has, but what’s always shocked Skinner is that Scully lets him. Her femme-fatale looks and her clear willingness to pistol whip the disrespectful have left him a bit at sea with her tolerance for Mulder’s wayward hands and gazes.

Mulder, like a half-trained Weimaraner. Mulder endlessly sprawling and sniffing and hunting and brilliant and exhausting.

Scully, like a tortoiseshell cat. Scully with half-lidded topaz eyes and eternal, quiet patience.

***

They’re dockside at the USS Constellation, Scully squinting with her hand curved along her brow. Mulder’s obnoxious black Burberry trench flapping like some kind of bespoke fruit bat. Mulder’s rich-kid arrogance.

Scully crouches over the weighted net the girl was wrapped in. There’s a clump of hair snarled in the mesh; it has been cut away to release the body. The girl floats upwards like a mermaid in a nightmare, crab-gnawed and a marbled green.

Mulder wrinkles his nose.

Scully’s hair more stylish now, Scully’s suits trimmer and her blouses more fitted. Everything about her is sleeker and shinier and more polished. She is beautiful, astonishingly beautiful, and it startles him sometimes that she should choose such a small life. That she should choose Mulder, frankly.

Mulder kneels beside her like a dark guardian angel. He skims a hand over her head nearly too fast to see. He thumbs her scrimshaw clavicles, her fine jaw.

Skinner knows, in an abstract sense, that Mulder is beautiful too; that Scully is justified. He still, in his deepest heart, does not feel that Mulder is justified.

He’d traded himself for her life that once because he was a Marine, because she is a rare creature, because he and Mulder had made her thus. Because, on more than one lonely night, he’d flashed on her white throat and bee-stung mouth behind his clenched lids.

Shamed, looks away from them, into the west.

***

He’s in love with Scully in a chivalric way. He’d lay his coat over a mud puddle for her ridiculous shoes. He’d challenge someone to a duel for her honor. But he couldn’t do what Mulder does; he couldn’t love her properly while she weeps and bleeds and dies of a thousand tiny cuts.

Couldn’t bury her daughter and keep sane.

Scully sighs, thumbs half a Subway bag from the corpse’s melting face.

***

The ME’s office at Penn and Pratt, because rank beats jurisdiction, because Skinner commandeered the decomp room when Scully asked. Scully’s regal face like the prow of that ship, Scully’s hair like Diogenes’s lantern.

Her hands like pale garden spiders moving lightly over the body, her steady voice speaking as he and Mulder watched and listened.

The girl was pregnant. Of course she was pregnant, of course she -

Mulder’s hand at Scully’s Bettie Page waist, somehow sinuous even in those boxy scrubs. Scully flinches, breathes, proceeds.

Scully dying, hypovolemic, hating him. Scully translucent as the votive candles she surely lights in her dark church, pale and flickering and full of temporary light.

Skinner looks upwards, at the cheap paneled ceiling, at the bad fluorescent light. He looks at the way Mulder’s hand is spread across her back with only support and not an ounce of possessiveness. He realizes, then, that it has never occurred to Mulder that Scully could belong to anyone else.

[leiascully]

Fic: Indulge Me (E, MSR)

1900 words; E for explicit sexual content; Scully likes to tease (a collaboration of sorts with @numinousmysteries @frogsmulder and the rest of the POÄNGpals in the nsfw channel) (AO3)

Sometimes Scully likes to indulge herself.

She makes Mulder lie back on the bed and close his eyes. He’s naked, so she can admire every inch of him, including the luxurious inches of his hard cock. She runs her hands over her breasts and teases her nipples, letting herself gasp so that she can watch his cock twitch. She rubs her palms down her ribs and over her hips, scratching lightly up her thighs just for the sensation. She likes knowing that he knows that she’s touching herself. She likes watching him struggle not to touch her or to open his eyes.

When she’s ready, she braces herself with one hand on his chest and slides the other down her belly and between her thighs. She parts her folds with her fingers and thumbs her clit, spreading her own moisture back and forth until she can hear the slick of it. He has to keep his eyes closed, or she’ll stop and take her toys to the bathroom and let him hear how much fun she’s having all on her own.

She usually leaves the bathroom door unlocked, though. The game’s more fun for her that way.

Today she was wet long before she got home. She knew he’d be waiting in her bed. She’d had to clench her hands on the steering wheel to keep her attention on traffic. She can feel the heavy ache of her cunt between her legs, the heat in her belly. She starts taking off her clothes the moment her front door is locked, leaving a train behind her as she goes. Mulder looks her up and down from among her pillows and swallows hard as he closes his eyes.

This time, she straddles him. She wants him to feel exactly how wet she is. She grinds against his belly, leaving a slick trail. She can feel his cock bumping against her ass. God, she wants him, but it’s more fun this way. They waited so long to experience each other like this. She likes to prolong the moment. It can’t all be quickies in the lab.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

“Yes?”

“You’re so wet.” He almost whimpers. “I want to taste you.”

“Maybe later,” she tells him. “If you behave yourself.”

His hands, flat on the bed, fist in her sheets.

She spreads her folds with two fingers, her other hand splayed over his chest. Her clit is swollen, acutely sensitive as she thumbs it. Pleasure flares through her, hot and sudden. She lets herself moan. Her middle and ring finger dip into the heat of her cunt and she moans again. She wants more. She wants him. But she’s going to wait.

Her fingers move in and out, in and out, rubbing against her most sensitive places. It sends sparks all through her. She knows he can hear the sucking sound of her abbreviated thrusts. He shivers under her, his eyes screwed shut.

“Scully, you’re driving me crazy.”

“What do you want to do about it?” She pulls her fingers out, wipes them on his skin, grinds against the wet spot she’s made. She dips her fingers into his mouth, letting him taste her. He sucks hard at them until she retrieves them. “Mulder. Tell me what you want.”

“I want to suck your clit until you scream my name,” he tells her. “I want you to ride my cock until you can’t walk straight. I want to be so deep in you we both forget we’re separate people.” She loves to hear him talk dirty, especially when his eyes are closed. It’s like a confessional, but much more entertaining: sins of aspiration. Instead of a rosary, she says his name. He groans a little and the sound goes straight to her cunt, a pulse of heat. She rubs her clit in leisurely circles, the pace at odds with what she really craves, but the tease is the point today.

For a few minutes, she fucks herself with her fingers, letting the pleasure build inside her. She picks the angle that’s the noisiest and lets herself be loud too. Mulder is breathing fast under her. She strokes her clit, slowly and then faster. When she can’t stand it anymore, she shifts backwards, straddling his hips instead of his belly, his cock between her thighs. She takes him in one fist, presses him between her folds. It takes some shifting to get his cock wedged deep between her lips. There’s definitely enough of him to go around.

“Open your eyes,” she tells him, and there’s a flash of green as he gazes at her. “Hold on at the base.”

He wraps his fingers obediently around his cock, holding himself steady. She shifts back and forth over him, his hot skin satiny against her own. She loves making him keep his eyes closed, but even more, she loves watching him watch her. His eyes are dark with desire. He licks his lips and she almost comes just imagining the touch of his tongue. She focuses on his cock instead: the firm length of it, the shaft with its veins, the bulbous head that stretches her a little ever time she sinks down on to him. Soon she’ll give herself the gift of that. But not yet.

His cock is sleek with her wetness. She can hear it as she rocks back and forth. God, he feels good under her. She could ride him like this for hours and never be tired of the sensation. For the first few weeks of their relationship, she was sore all the time, but now her hips are used to the way he spreads her wide. She rises high, lets his head press just barely against her, and then slides back down his shaft without letting him enter her. She does it again and then again until she’s panting and so is he. Fuck, she needs to change things up or she’ll just impale herself on his cock and ride him until her eyes roll back in her head.

She rises just a little, enough to break contact. He makes a frustrated noise. She takes his cock in her fist, jacking lightly a few times just to hear him grunt and groan.

“Watch me, Mulder,” she says, and he locks his eyes on her. She rubs his head deliberately over her clit, his fluid and hers mingling. It feels so fucking good, his delicate skin brushing the exquisitely sensitive bud of her clit. She moves him just right against her and startles herself with a high-pitched keening noise. His hands rise to her thighs, squeezing. Technically it’s against the rules of their little game, but she’ll allow it.

“Touch my tits instead,” she pants, leaning forward to give him access. Her knees dig into his ribs as she grips him for balance. He does as he’s told. His gaze is hungry, as if his eyes can lick and suck at her skin, all the things his fingers can’t manage. But fuck, his fingers are good. Her breasts fit in the palms of his big hands. She can feel his callouses from pistol and pencil as he rolls her nipples between his fingers.

“Scully, I’m close,” he tells her, interrupted by his own groans.

“Then you’d better lie back and think of England,” she says, still teasing her clit with the head of his cock. “If you come on my tits, you’re licking it off.”

“Fuck,” he says fervently. “God, Scully.”

“Do you want to fuck me face down on the bed?” she asks conversationally, as if she’s not half an inch from the edge herself. “Stretch me out under you, hold my wrists in one hand? Or do you want to haul me to the edge of the bed so you can fuck me hard while we both play with my tits? Should I ride you so I can take you deep?”

“Maybe I want to tease you for a while,” he says hoarsely. “One knee up on the bed and my hand in your hair. My cock in my hand, ready to take you at any moment.”

Her cunt clutches at the idea. She releases him, hitches her knee over him, assumes the position he described. He looks dazed, but he follows her, standing behind her. She can feel his cock bumping against her again. There’s a change in the tension of it when he takes himself in hand. And then he’s teasing her, rubbing his cock up and down between her folds, and it feels so familiar and totally new.

He handles himself differently than she does: firmer, more sure of his limits. His other hand pushes into her hair, not pulling, but holding her in place. She likes the way her back arches: it tilts her hips toward him and shoves her tits out at the same time. She props herself up with one hand and caresses herself with the other. In no time, they’re both groaning.

“On your back,” he says urgently, and hauls pillows from the top of the bed to bolster her hips as she complies. He rubs his cock between her folds a few more times, waiting, his whole body one eager line. God, she’s going to come as soon as he’s inside her.

“Please,” she says, and almost before the word has left her lips, he’s sinking into her. He pauses as he fills her to the hilt. They moan in unison. His hands clutch her hips and he’s thrusting into her, his body coiled tight as a spring. She can feel the way her cunt stretches to take his length, his girth. She loves the way they fit together, all at once perfect and challenging. And he’s hitting all the right spots inside her and he’s thumbing her clit as she touches her tits and she’s coming, shaking around him, calling his name as her body dissolves into pure sensation.

He holds out for a few more strokes, hauling her up somehow against his chest as she wraps her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck and holds on tight. He thrusts up into her as he cradles her against him and then his eyes flutter and she can feel his release. Their chests heave in rhythm as he sinks to the bed, her on his lap. She can feel her inner muscles flutter in a sort of aftershock. She wants to hold onto him as long as she can.

He nuzzles at her neck. They’re both sweaty and sticky and in need of a shower. Fortunately, they both fit in hers, as they’ve confirmed several times. She might even let him make good on his word to suck her clit until she screams. Mulder doesn’t seem to mind the taste of ejaculate, at least not his own, and he loves the way she tastes, as he’s told her over and over.

“Who won?” she asks.

“I couldn’t begin to tell you,” he says. “But I like playing these games with you.”

“It’s better than fighting in a rental car somehow,” she says, stroking his hair.

He smiles. “Somehow.” He tips his face invitingly and she kisses him. “What say we both win?”

She grins. “What say we rematch?”

“I’ll take you,” he says, shifting his hips, and he’s still just hard enough to make her gasp.

“Take me,” she says. “God, Mulder.”

“As long as you’ll have me,” he vows, his eyes wide and soft.

“Indefinitely,” she says, because it’s too soon to say forever, but he knows. She can see it in his twilight eyes.

[frogsmulder]

34 & 36 msr

The Christmas Ruse

In order to avoid being set up with one of her mum's friends' sons, Scully uses Mulder's help to create a fake relationship. But Mulder doesn't know; about 3.4k words; rated t; tagging @today-in-fic

Read on ao3

Deep in the basement of the J Edgar Hoover building, December 23rd, Scully is about to leave the office. Winter coat pulled off the rack, one arm through and then the other, her heels clip towards the door when she stops in her tracks. Hesitating for a brief moment, she considers if she is really about to do this, but the alternative seems far more agonising. Lip caught between her teeth, she turns around to face Mulder, still at his desk. He looks up from the work he is still buried in despite the late hour: everyone else in the building has gone home, save for the janitor and herself. His hair is ruffled, his tie loose and a frown is perfectly sculpted across his brow. She could do worse as friends go. 

“Mulder…”

“Hmm?”

“Are you free tomorrow? About eight?”

He leans back in his chair, hands behind his head in mock consideration. “That's gonna be a little tough for me: I've got a file on a green, furry cryptid here that the higher-ups want caught before he steals all the joy out of Christmas.”

She can't help but roll her eyes. “I'll take that as a yes.”

“Depends: why d’you ask?” He leans forward again, hands clasped together on the desk in front of him, attentive, his whole gaze trained on her. 

“I–” she licks her lip– “I'll pick you up at seven.”

“Ooh a surprise!” he chuckles. “I like surprises. But if it's not a trip to Whoville, I'll be disappointed.”

She laughs, “happy holidays, Mulder,” as she walks out the door.

...

Her mind is blank, clear of any form of thought as the elevator dings, opening to the fourth floor of Hegal Place, Alexandria. She steps forward, automatic pilot steering her to the end of the corridor. If she starts thinking now, everything will cascade into a torrent of worry, and there will be no coming back. Checking her watch, she sees she is earlier than she had anticipated. She raises her knuckles to the wood. And then her hand drops without a sound. What if she is too early? What if she's interrupting him? Turning on her heel she walks back to wait in the car. But that is ridiculous. She should just knock and wait inside if he isn't ready. Yet upon reaching his door, she feels that magnetic repulsion again. Again she turns away. 

This time it isn't her own doubt that stops her but the sound of the door opening behind her. Mulder's head pops out. 

“Hey, Scully!” He grins. “You gonna pace around outside for the next twenty minutes or are you gonna let me invite you in?”

She opens her mouth to say something when he widens the door and motions for her to get moving. His casual nature bemuses her. He saunters in ahead, bare-chested, hair slightly damp, just a pair of jeans, drawing her eyes down to how well they hang on his hips and fit his ass. 

“You didn't give me a dress code: is this alright?” He picks up a black t-shirt and a navy sweater, spinning around to hold them against his chest like a professional designer. 

She smirks, “yeah, that'll do nicely.”

He grins again as he wriggles into the garments. A moment of confusion passes his features before he looks around and bends over to look under the coffee table. Retrieving a bottle of aftershave, he sprays some on, and then looks satisfied with his appearance. Scully certainly is. A waft of the scent captivates her as he puts the bottle back on the table. 

“Good to go?”

He snaps her from her thoughtless mind “Oh, uh, yeah.”

The drive is pleasant enough. Crisp frosted scenery flies by while seasonal songs float from the car stereo. In the corner of her eye, she notices Mulder quietly humming and tapping along to the music, having no right to be as endearing as he is. She smiles, and focuses on the road ahead. 

“So, I am allowed to ask where we are going now, or is it still a surprise?”

“We are going for a Scully Christmas eve dinner. It's, uh, a sort of tradition we have each year: close family get together to share time before the big day tomorrow–before all the aunts come over and fuss over how Christmas should be done properly in the traditional Irish Catholic way.” She laughs a little, remembering how Aunt Marie had to be kicked out of the kitchen by her mother. “And my mom invited you.”

Mulder whistles. “Wow, that's a high honour indeed. I feel bad now coming empty handed.”

“Don't worry, there's a bottle of red on the backseat from both of us.”

“Both of us? Will your mother have something to be suspicious about?” He grins and waggles his eyebrows. 

“It's nothing like that,” she laughs. “She's just been asking after you a lot lately. I think she's secretly trying to adopt you.”

“Well, I couldn't think of a better person to be adopted by than Mrs Scully.”

Scully bites her lip, considering whether to tell him the truth, but decides it isn't worth it. Her mom has already apologised to Jack: he won't be there, and that's the main thing. She grips the steering wheel a little tighter. 

They pull up to the house and she sees Bill’s family wagon is already in the driveway and she curses quietly under her breath, she had hoped to settle in before he showed up. 

She gets out of the car and picks up the bottle of wine. Mulder is waiting for her on the other side, arm curled in invitation. She links her own arm through and shakes her head at how well he's playing the role he doesn't even know he's got. At the top of the path, she nervously opens the door, preparing herself for the evening ahead. The irony is, she would rather be having dinner with just Mulder, but then again she's never managed to be the traditional sort. 

“Hi Mom, Bill, we're here!”

“We're in the kitchen sweetie!” her mother calls back. 

Mulder groans and bends down to whisper harshly in her ear, “You never said Bill Jr was here.”

“I said close family.”

“I think I left my diplomacy mask in the trunk, let me go get it.”

She chuckles and tugs him along to the kitchen. 

She first presents her mother with the wine and receives a big hug in return before Maggie sees who she has brought with her. 

“Oh Fox! How wonderful to see you.” She cups his face and reaches up to kiss his cheek, before standing back, holding by the arms and admiring him. “Although I can't say I'm surprised; Dana has been talking about you a lot lately.”

“Oh really?” Mulder turns teasingly to Scully with his eyebrows raised. 

Maggie laughs, “Yes, I was starting to think she was making the whole thing–”

“Mom!” Scully interrupts, blushing bright red. 

“Sorry, Dana,” She chuckles and releases Mulder back to her. “Would you like some prosecco, the two of you?”

Scully eyes Bill standing a few steps behind their mother, watching Mulder warily. 

“That sounds wonderful, Mrs Scully.”

“Oh, Maggie, please; you're part of the family, Fox.”

“That's very kind of you, Maggie.”

She walks up to him and opens her arms as a peace offering. “Hey Bill, long time no see. Your boat didn't get stuck in traffic this time then?”

He finally relaxes and accepts her hug

“How's my little sister doing?”

“I'm good,” she sighs. “Where are Tara and the kids?”

“She's just giving them a bath before they go to bed.” He steps back and gives her a smile. “Don't worry, they'll be down in time to say good night to their favourite aunt.” 

She smiles to hide the pain of the hidden dig; the absence of Melissa felt the most this time of year. 

“Mom was telling me you brought a date.” He glances back over to Mulder. “Seriously? Him?”

She sighs, knowing this was an eventuality. “I don't want to do this now, Bill, it's Christmas. Can we just leave it alone?”

He steps forward, insistent. “But after all he's done to you?”

“Bill, I won't say it again. He's been there for me and supported me despite what you think.” She looks over to Mulder too, and how easily he talks to her mom. Her mother is right, he is a part of this family even if it's not in the way she thinks. “I don't want any trouble this evening, Bill, please.”

He nods tersely, the matter still clearly bothering him. She decides to leave it and joins Mulder, wrapping herself around his arm and taking the flute of bubbling alcohol gratefully. Despite trying to mask it, Mulder senses her tension and smoothly twines his fingers with hers, grounding her the way no-one else has ever has. 

...

The rest of the evening flows relatively effortlessly as family gatherings go. Matthew comes bounding down the stairs followed shortly by Tara and a baby already sleepy-eyed resting on her shoulder. Matthew runs up to his grandma and jumps onto her lap in the armchair. 

“Are you all clean and ready for bed now?” Maggie coos. 

He shakes his head. “I not tired. Not need bed.” And then he points a finger across the room. “Funny man?”

From the corner of her eye, Scully can see Mulder chuckle next to her as he slowly gets up to introduce himself. 

“Hi, Dana!” Tara offers a wave with one hand, gently bouncing the baby “Sorry I didn't get to say hi earlier I had my hands full.”

“Sure looks that way,” Scully laughs. She gets up to stroke the fuzzy hair of her newest nephew and give him a kiss on his crown. “He's grown so much already,” She marvels. “Oh, this is Mulder by the way–” she gestures over to where Mulder is ruffling Matthews hair– “Mulder, the only other woman besides mom that's been able to keep my brother in check.”

“I see we are going to get along,” Mulder chuckles. 

“Oh he's not that bad really.” Tara looks fondly over at her husband trying to gently extract their son from Maggie’s arms, much to the grumpy protests of Matthew. “He's really a teddy bear underneath it all.”

“Just don't let my crewmen hear about it.”

“No, Daddy, no! Me not tired!”

Bill gruffs and hoists Matthew up, barely holding on to him as arms and legs flail. 

“Can I?” Mulder asks cautiously and Bill gives him a contemptuous look as Scully raises an incredulous eyebrow. 

“You know what day it is today, Matthew?”

The boy rolls his eyes. “Kissmas eve.”

Mulder nods seriously. “And what happens on Christmas eve?”

“Santa comes.”

“But you know Santa only comes if you are asleep. He is very shy.” He leans on conspiratorially to whisper in the boys ear. “He can't bring your presents if you're awake.”

“But... But… I good boy,” he pouts. 

Mulder smiles. “You have to be good all year round, including Christmas eve. And good boys go to bed when their mommy asks them to.”

Matthew considers this for a moment. “You good boy?”

“Yes,” Mulder laughs. “But the question is, are you?”

Matthew nods and clings to his father. “Bed time then Santa?”

“That's right,” Bill chimes in. “Come on, let's get you to bed.” 

He gets up the stairs with little fuss. Over his shoulder a tired child yawns. “Bye bye, aunty Dana!” he says. “Bye bye, funny man!”

On his way past, Tara mouths thank you to Mulder, who waves it off as if it was no big thing. Scully looks at him, mouth hanging open, both her shock and curiosity showing through. She had watched the whole thing unfold in front of her as if it was the most natural thing in the world to him. How? She wonders, while a quieter voice deeper inside whispers dangerous day-dreams. She fights to keep it tamped down, knowing its impossibility; its only real ability to hurt her in the future. 

Maggie pats Mulder's arm as she moves through to the kitchen, pausing to add, “You'll make a great father one day, Fox.”

A strange sting of jealousy sings with that chorus at her mother's words. Scully shakes it off. “Mulder,” she smiles with awe. “How did you know that would work?”

He shrugs. “I guess those hostage negotiation classes paid off.”

She laughs but doesn't let the matter slide. “No, really?”

“I used to encourage my sister to bed the same way. For some reason she listened to me.” He gets a wistful look in his eye. “But there was that one time we conspired to stay up to catch Santa together. Well, our father wasn't very pleased.”

...

Later, sat around the dinner table, Scully edges closer to Mulder, conscious to keep the appearance of the happy couple up. Part of her is anxious that Mulder will become suspicious of her behaviour, question her and force her to reveal her ruse. The other part wars with herself about how easy and natural it is to act like she loves him. She fidgets with the hem of her blouse under the table, straightening herself out as her mother passes out portions of homemade cottage pie. The smell of it takes her back to her childhood when she and her siblings used to fight over who got the leftovers. She remembers Missy taking putty on her and sneaking her some to not make the others jealous. 

“So,” Tara chirps brightly, bringing Scully out of her reverie. “How do you and Mulder know each other?”

She opens her mouth but no words come out, the inevitable question catching her off guard. “Um… We work together… he's my– we're– he's my partner.” She shields her gaze from Bill’s stern stare and catches Mulder's amused smirk. Her cheeks start to burn and she is sure everyone can see her blush. 

“Ahhh.” Tara gives her a knowing smile. “And how long has that been going on for?”

“It's, uh–

“Relatively new,” Mulder fills in for her. Surprised, Scully whips her head to stare at him. 

“Well, I'm glad for you Dana, you look happier than I've seen you in a while. And who knows maybe you'll even get to start a family of your own: he seems great with kids.”

Her mother jumps in before she can reply, sensing her unease, knowing her desires for motherhood will only ever remain as that. “Come now, there's no need for an interrogation,” she jokes light heartedly. 

Scully finally looks to Mulder with a smile and says quietly, “Yeah, he is.”

The blush on his cheeks warms her heart and she licks her lips. Maybe it could be this easy to love him. 

Her mother raises “A toast to this Christmas, to family.”

“And to Mulder and Dana,” Tara adds. 

“Bill,” Maggie smiles. “Will you do the honours?”

Bill nods and clasps his hands together leading everyone into grace with a bowed head and closed eyes. “Bless this food and the hands that prepared it–”

Under the table Scully feels Mulder shift, his hand reaching out to her, fingers walking along her lap to find her hand. She turns it over, allowing him to lace his fingers through hers. She breaks her prayer to look at him, confused but not unpleasantly surprised. With everyone keeping vigil, he smiles softly, privately, as if they were the only two people to exist in this world. When Bill utters the words “Amen,” Mulder squeezes her hand before quickly letting go, moving his gaze elsewhere as conversation resumes.

...

After dinner, Scully, stays sitting at the table for a while, watching the swirling bubble in her flute rise to the top and burst. Tara helps her mother clear away and Mulder quietly excuses himself for some fresh air. She bites her lip, sensing his discomfort with the intimate family setting. She briefly wonders what Christmas eve at the Mulder household is like, before remembering last year he had invited to go ghostbusting. Maybe he would prefer to be there than here, suffocated in an environment he barely recognises. She was too selfish to consider how out of place he would feel, but she can’t deny that having him by her side the last few hours has been an immense source of strength for her. She is not sure she could give up his company even if she wanted to.

Bill’s chair makes a scraping sound against the hardwood floor as he gets up. She glances from her bubbling glance to see him follow Mulder’s direction to the porch. Discreetly, she follows him. Through the front door she can hear his muffled voice stern and gruff: “.... clear Dana likes you… respect her choice but… hurt her again…”

She’s heard enough to know exactly what Bill is saying and she curses him under her breath. Jaw clenched, she turns the handle of the door. “Bill–” she starts.

Bill throws his hands up defensively. “I was just leaving, Dana.” 

She watches as he innocently side steps her and returns to the dining room. Scully turns around again, fingers to her brow, massaging out the frown carved out there, not knowing where to begin apologising.

“How much of that did you hear?” Mulder winces, scratching the back of his neck.

She sighs dejectedly. “Only the important parts.”

He huffs half a laugh. “Only that much, huh?”

“I’m sorry, Mulder. Bill can be…”

“Overprotective?” he laughs again mirthlessly. “Yeah, well, as the older brother I get it: he just cares a lot about you. I only wish that didn’t mean hating me in the process.”

She places a comforting hand on his bicep, pleading silently that he accept her forgiveness for the sin he doesn't know she has committed. She searches his eyes for an answer but before she can find one, Tara walks up to the doorway, catching them.

“Aw don’t you two look cute under the mistletoe.”

“What?” Scully spins around defensively.

Mulder looks up and chuckles. Amidst the heat of the confrontation, she had forgotten the sprig of mistletoe tied to the porch awning. She slowly lifts her head, hoping it’s not still there, but the berries shine white against the green, inviting them to keep up tradition.

“Do you trust me, Scully?”

She looks at him, wide-eyed and hesitant. “Yes, but–”

Before she can finish the thought, Mulder is leaning in, warm hand pressed against her cheek, the other holding her steady at her hip. His lips meet hers as soft and as light as a feather touch, barely a whisper of the possibilities she now finds herself fantasising. All too soon, he draws back, leaving her bereft of his heat, his touch. His thumb still draws back and forth across her skin as she languidly opens her eyes again, seeing his smile in a new light. All the world goes quiet and numb save for the man standing in front of her, still holding on, still smiling. Conscious thought leaves her brain; her worries and doubts disseminated like dust on the wind. Old fortresses crumble and fall and she reaches up to brush her finger against his lips, testing this new reality she finds herself in. Lead by pure instinct she follows her finger and kisses against hers li him again, craving the feel of his lips brushing against hers like oxygen after seven years of holding her breath. Hesitantly, she deepens the kiss, exploring the taste of his lips, his tongue. When he reciprocates she sighs contentedly, floating towards heaven.

He pulls back and rests his forehead against hers. “Now are you gonna tell me why your whole family thinks we are dating?” he whispers just loud enough for her to hear. “Or do I have to ask them?”

“I–” she stutters over her words half in relief, half realising the ridiculousness of it all. She hides her face buried deep in his chest, laughing through, “I didn’t want mum to set me up with one of her friends' sons again.” 

“And I was the perfect lie?” he teases her with a shit-eating grin.

“As far as boyfriends go, I could do a lot worse.”

“So, it’s official–” he tilts her head back to look at him and brushes her hair from her face– “this is our first date.”

“Shut up, Mulder,” she laughs.

“Hey, Scully–” he gives her another chaste kiss. “Merry Christmas.”

She smiles against his lips. “Merry Christmas.”