#MulderNScully

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Luck and Stubborness

** I dusted off my laptop, and with rusty writing skills, managed this **

Being held hostage and the aftermath ...

************* Everything seemed to be moving slow. Her breathing, the gunman’s foot falls, the blood dripping from the gunshot wound inflicted only moments ago on the hapless, helpless bank teller whose hands had been shaking so badly she couldn’t work the key to the cash drawer.

She saw everything with a clarity she’d never known and given the crawling passage of time, she had every opportunity in the world to study the red color of the fresh blood, the gleaming gray marble-patterned granite of the counters, the one ray of sunshine angled across the room, late afternoon prediction of rain delayed until further notice.

She could feel the hairs on her arm move with the subtle breeze created as the gunman paced before them; she could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, thoughtlessly counting down, in steady rhythm, her impending death; she could taste the bitter adrenalin in the back of her throat and swallowed accordingly, only to find a sizable lump sitting there, waiting to create either a gallon of tears or a crescendoing scream.

She’d talked to her mother last night, shared gossip, made plans, told her she loved her before hanging up and then calling back because she’d neglected to tell her ‘good night’ as well. At least her mom would know and have no regrets of angry words or harsh toned judgements should she not make it to the next Sunday dinner.

Mulder had been on his way to pick her up, take her to the dentist, the novacaine she would inevitably get always gave her a headache and she preferred not to drive that way. She’d walked to the bank from work to deposit her check and he was going to meet her out front once his meeting had finished.

She’d seen him through the front doors just as the first shot had sounded to get their full attention.

She’d prayed he wouldn’t storm the doors and fall victim to bullet number two.

The gunman, stopping his walk, told them all to get on their knees. Scully dropped like a rock, her kneecaps cracking on the hard slate-tiled floor. She should have felt pain but she did not; she only felt the fear that one of her fellow prisoners wouldn’t adhere quickly enough and she’d see the second body fall in under nine minutes.

Nine minutes.

How had only nine minutes passed? Unlike Oregon, where nine minutes had gone by in a literal flash, these nine minutes had dragged on for millenia, minimum.

Bullet number three caused body number two, this one beside Scully, covering the side of her face with a splatter pattern of warm sticky blood. She hadn’t caught up to reality yet and wasn’t sure why the man beside her was now dead but she realized she’d better begin to pay better attention.

Moments and decades later, she’d lost track of the clock after they’d been moved to the other side of the bank, she heard the gunman talking on a landline cordless to what had to be the police. Mulder must have called them immediately from the street. He was out there, trying to get in, trying to save her, trying to …

The fourth gunshot echoed off the walls and victim number three, another teller, found the ground.

They were down to six now, two employees and four customers.

And then the strolling legs stopped in front of her, “who do you work for?”

She’d been asked that earlier, when one of the other hostages had been told to pat everyone down and hand in anything of interest. The man had mouthed an apology when he found Scully’s gun and turned it over. The gunman had asked then, in a screaming fit, who she worked for and replying ‘security for the Air and Space Museum,’ he had let it go.

Now, wracking her slugging brain for her answer, she hesitated a moment too long and was pulled out of line for her trouble, yanked by her arm, falling flat on her face, being pulled back upright with a shoulder pop that would ache for weeks–provided she lived long enough to feel it–, then spinning to face him, the whole time being screamed at, “don’t lie to me! I’ll kill you if you lie!!”

“Security. For the history museum.” The moment the answer left her lips, she realized her error and before she could take another breath, his hands were groping her, searching then finding her badge, which the original man had neglected to mention when his hand skimmed over it in her inside pocket.

That man’s head exploded moment’s later, then, as the body lay twitching a few feet from her, Scully realized her gun was now in the madman’s hands, and swallowing hard, she answered his quiet question of, “who do you work for?”

“FBI.”

And that’s when everything shifted from low gear to high, the swearing, the gun waving, the pistol butt connecting with her cheekbone in a spectacular crunch, the searing pain, then one gun pressed into the bone above her left eye and her own gun pressed above the right, “I should see if I can use you to get what I want. Sure as shit, an FBI agent ought to get me a little more; then again, might be fun seeing what’ll be left of your head once I fire both of these.”

She was going to die.

Shutting her eyes, she asked God one final time to please let it not hurt and to take care of her family and Mulder before sighing out a small breath and letting go, accepting the inevitable and removing herself from any connection to it.

Her hair moved as the bullet flew past her and, given the gunmen had, for a split second, been leaning over for a closer look at her, it cracked his skull wide open.

Some sharpshooter had been waiting for a clear shot and had taken whatever he could get, even if it meant singeing off some of the hostage’s hair. Scully wasn’t going to argue.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Mulder was the second person through the doors and the first to slide to a stop on his knees beside her, scramble around to get in front of her, his hands on her cheeks, thumbs by her ears, holding her head steady to look at him, “Scully.”

She wouldn’t open her eyes.

“Scully. It’s me. Can you look at me, please?”

With effort, she shook her head.

“Scully … Dana … Honey, I need you to look at me.”

Shaking it again, she managed to get her hands up to grip his wrists, nails digging in.

He moved his forehead to hers, knowing she’d recognize the gesture if not the voice, “Scully, please, I need you to look at me right now; I need to know you’re back with me; I need to know that you’re alright.”

Her eyelids fluttered, opened once, caught sight of him, closed again, “it’s not my blood.”

Whispers couldn’t cut it right now with all the chaos surrounding them, “what?”

Voice an octave higher, “it’s not my blood.”

One mystery solved, he moved on to another, “you’re already bruising up. Did he hit you?”

Single nod.

“Fist or gun?”

Back to near silent words, “gun.”

“Okay. We’re going to the hospital. Can you walk?” Mulder started to stand, to help her up but when she didn’t budge, still kneeling amidst the insanity, he went back to her level, “can you walk?”

“He had … he had two guns aimed at my head.” Finally opening up her eyes to look at him, blue rings thin around dilated pupils, “are you sure he’s dead?”

Leaning forward, he kissed her quickly, “I promise you, he’s dead. His head’s in two pieces behind me. Humpty Dumpty will not be put back together again.”

Scully reached out, one hand on either of his arms but trying to stand, she cried out, her left leg twisting under her, “fuck.”

This she said loud and clear but everyone ignored it, except for Mulder, “what hurts?”

“Knee. He made us … I dropped down on it.”

“I can carry you.”

Already checking out of the whole situation, she shook her head, “just help me up.” Finally standing, gingerly testing her knee and finding it holding her weight, she didn’t know what to do or where to look, but, on accident, her gaze landed on what remained of her captor, and her stomach turned, “I need to go outside.”

Without question, he put one arm firmly across her back and under her arm and half-carried, half-guided her through the crowd, telling uniforms with questions that they’d have to wait. Outside, however, was no better, cameras, reporters, news vans, and tourists all craning to see who was the first to come out.

She should have stayed on the damned floor.

“Go back in! Go back in!”

He knew the feeling and turning them, he split the difference and sat her on one of the benches in the foyer, out of the roving eye of the media but a double set of doors away from her personal hell.

“Scully-”

“Just … just don’t talk to me for a minute .. just don’t say … just don't say anything.” Her hand was on her forehead, finding it still sticky with someone else’s blood but not knowing anything else to do at the moment, she kept it there, rubbing the two spots the gun had pressed against, with thumb and pointer fingers.

Her other hand was clenching and squeezing the air in a random configuration of digit  twisting, nail digging repetition and not able to handle it, Mulder reached out, touching her wrist, “let me see.” Taking the hand, he wrapped his two around it, bringing it up to his mouth and bumping his lips over and against each knuckle and dip in turn.

Skinner didn’t help by suddenly appearing, having been at the bank since Mulder had raised the cavalry some two hours earlier. “How is she?”

Mulder looked up at him, “not real good.”

“Can she answer some questions?”

She had drifted off again, blocking out pain, blocking out fear, blocking out everyone around her. It took Mulder saying her name three times and finally tightening his hold on her wrist to get her to respond, “Skinner wants to know if you can answer some questions. No one else is in any shape to talk.”

One, two, three deep breaths in and out, she mashed every feeling, every ounce of herself down before finally looking at Skinner, who was by now crouched in front of her, “what do you need me to tell you?”

It took another ninety minutes for her to finish her account of things. Mulder was, by then, crawling the walls, itching to get her the hell away from all this … get her someplace quiet, safe, get her off the adrenaline that continued to course through her veins and show itself in her still dilated eyes. About to step in and tell them all to go to hell, Skinner announced she was done and turning to Mulder, “I suggest you get her to a hospital.”

Belaying that order with her own, “Take me home, Mulder,” she stood and walked slowly towards the outside doors, where the crowds had thinned somewhat.

“She needs to see a doctor.”

Mulder could only shrug, “it’d be easier to bring the hospital to her. She’ll go if she needs to and I sure as hell can't make her go before then.” Scrubbing his face with his hands, Mulder gave his boss one final look, “make sure no one bugs her for a few days.”

“Let me know if she needs anything.”

Nodding, he headed after his partner, who, once he caught up with her, never even noticed he was there.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

“Are you sure?”

By now, she was down to nodding, the quiet car and Mulder’s hand on her arm serving to slow her heart and begin to empty her system of the fight or flight drug that she’d been flooded with since the moment she saw the stranger’s gun. Her eyes kept slowly shutting, stuttering back open, unfocused closing yet again.

He had just asked for what would be his third and final time if she’d like to go to the hospital, just to have them check her out.

“Where do you want to go then? Your place or mine or your mom’s?”

“Mom’s at Charlie’s tonight with the kids.”

Executive decision to go to his place, simply because she was going to be asleep way before they got to hers, he navigated around corner and down straightaway, his hand on her wrist the whole time, until he parked once again.

Getting her upstairs was easy, but she stopped just inside the front door, quiet but unmoving. Skirting around her, he locked the door then, hand on her upper arm, “are you awake enough to go get changed, then go to the bathroom so I can clean you up?”

Her eyes were rolling again as she watched the room fade and reappear, drift sideways and back upright, wobble and calm, “what?”

Repeating himself, he added, “I can help with whatever you need.”

“I need clothes.”

She managed to undress and redress herself while he went and found a bag of frozen vegetables for her face. Hearing her footsteps towards the bathroom, that’s where he headed, finding her seated on the closed toilet, staring at the wall. Without a request for permission, he soaked a washcloth and began cleaning the blood from her face, avoiding the blossoming bruise on her possibly broken cheekbone. Pulling crusty bits from her hair, he told himself they weren’t brain fragments but simply clumps of dried blood.

Finally, as clean as he was going to get her, he focused on her bruise, holding the towel-wrapped bag to her cheek, noticing not so much as a wince from her when the cold met her skin. Taking one of her hands and placing it so she could hold the bag herself, he then wiggled up the pant legs of her/his pajamas to check on her knees.

Two large bruises were forming, the left knee looking swollen as well. Catching her eye, “how are they feeling?”

She had to think about it but eventually an answer of ‘I don’t know’ came back.

He didn’t dare touch them in case one of the kneecaps was cracked but that would be a problem a minute, an hour from now. “Let’s get you in bed then. I think you need to lay down.”

“Couch … please.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&

Complying with the couch request, he settled her in the corner, legs propped up on pillows on the coffee table–pulled forward to accommodate shortness–, blanket tucked around her, head resting where the cushions met. “You hungry?” Hand still holding vegetables to face, he could just make out her head shake of ‘no’ so he continued, “Would you mind if I eat?”

“Go ahead.”

Sandwich in hand, he carefully sat on the opposite end of the couch, back to the arm so he could watch her. He stared quietly while he ate until Scully finally shifted her eyes in his direction. He expected her to yell at him for staring but instead, she stared back, eyes blank and flat. Not about to push her yet, he waited, swallowing his last bite, then shifting a little to rest his head on the soft back of the couch, never blinking, never deviating from her gaze.

Ten more minutes they sat like this until Mulder reached his hand out, “time’s up for ice. I don’t want to freeze your face off.”

Surrendering the now malleable bag of barely frozen peas, “I’m going to need a haircut. The sharpshooter bullet singed off some of my hair.”

He’d smelled the burning hair when he got to her in the bank but hadn’t said anything, “I didn’t realize you knew what happened.”

This avenue of thought died then and there for another, “was I really in there almost two hours before … during …” she couldn’t find the end of that sentence but Mulder understood.

“Yeah. Longest two hours of my life.”

He had the kind of eyes that women locked onto, vibrant green to muted hazel depending on light and mood. The first victim has an emerald green pin whose color had mesmerized her, made her think of him, thank God he wasn’t inside, thank God he wouldn’t be hurt. His eyes now, however, were paled to dark sea glass, shadowed by the gathering clouds and graying skin of exhaustion.

“Scully?”

The room was noticeably darker than it had been a moment ago … or was it an hour … would time always work like this for her from now on? “What?”

“You haven’t blinked in five minutes. You okay in there?”

“Time isn’t working.”

He sat up, concern instant, “what?”

“Nine minutes felt like a lifetime in there, then two hours passed, I only started looking at you a moment ago and you say it’s five minutes.” Swallowing hard, she could feel her hands beginning to twitch, “something’s wrong.”

Thinking back to the aftermath of August Bremmer, “the shock’s setting in. Tell me what to do.”

Her hands were beginning to jump and she was getting cold. Forcing her memory to sort through med school detritus, “I need to lay down. Put my feet above my head.”

Mulder did as told, gently sliding her legs around and then her body down the smooth leather. Legs over the opposite end of the couch now, he then covered her with the blanket once again, running to fetch his comforter as well. Once she was buried, “do you need any water?”

A sheen of sweat had broken on her forehead and he could see the blankets move as her hands rattled and shook, her arms joining in, “no. I … just hold my hand.”

Doing more than that, he first found her hand, holding it under the covers and against her belly while his other hand reached up, stroking her forehead back and forth with his thumb, palm resting on the top of her head, “do you need a hospital yet?”

His hand shook with hers.

“No. I’ll tell you if I need to go.”

“Well, I’m reserving, right now, the right to override you if I get too freaked out.”

Quiet for a minute, he noticed that she visibly turned green, then grey, then white. Already moving for the trashcan by his desk, he had it beside her just as she leaned sideways, the words ‘sorry’ passing her lips before the vomit did. Sitting up before the second round shook her soul, she leaned over, back arching, pain in her face exploding, knees protesting, pulled shoulder pinching, blood vessels breaking across her face and chest.

He had to swallow hard to control his own gorge from rising.

But he held her thigh and the can in front of her, waiting until the universal all-clear sign of head nod/lean back/I need to get away from the smell shift in posture. Once she’d made it all the way back to cushions, he stood up, “I’m going to go clean this out. Will you be okay for a minute?”

Suddenly, exhaustion took over, and opened her eyes to find him, feeling empty and drunk and weightless, “can you get me to bed first?”

Really wanting to clean out the nastiness in the can in his hand, he set it on the coffee table, reaching out to help her, “yeah. Hand me the comforter on your way up.”

Shuffling her to the bed, he got her in, thick covers back in place, and thankfully, her hand shakes back down to minor twitches. Resting his hand on her shoulder, he leaned in, “do you still feel sick?”

“No.” Her eyes were already closing, “just come back when you’re done.”

Kiss to temple, he went and cleaned up, trying his best not to puke himself while he scrubbed the can. Finally, all clean, he went back to the bedroom to find her fast asleep. Setting down the can, he retrieved the book he was reading, opting to quietly climb up beside her on the bed, hearing the faint sounds she was already making in the back of her throat, the nightmare already forming in the forefront of her mind.

She’d be awake soon enough.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

It came out of nowhere, the lightning unnoticed but the booming clap of thunder loud enough to shake the room. He jumped at the sudden noise, but Scully bolted up, arms flying out in both directions, catching him on the chest with one while smacking the edge of the nightstand with the other. Shaking, eyes tightly squeezed shut, she began moving her lips in what took Mulder a moment to figure out … she was whispering the ‘Our Father’ as she quaked, caught in a waking nightmare.

“Scully, it’s me.” His voice was barely louder than her offered prayer, and he said it again, “it was just thunder. It’s just me and Mother Nature, I promise.”

No response, so he reached over, tentatively scooting to sit beside her, legs vee-ing around her, hand running lightly up her arm, mouth on her shoulder, “I’m right here. Nothing’s gonna happen to you, I swear.”

If that sank in, he didn’t know but soon, she turned her head to look at him, her cheek swollen, skin bruised and tight, “is it still today?”

“It’s only been about a half-hour since you fell asleep so yeah, it's still today.”

Taking in deep breath after deep breath, she scooted out of bed, away from him, her knees protesting as she tried to stand and ended up leaning on the mattress, shoulder a dull ache. The breaths came faster now, her fist pounding the pile of covers, “God Dammit! It needs to be tomorrow so this can all be over and done with!”

He moved to sit in front of her, pressing her hands against his thighs, “it’s not going to be over for a long time, you know that.”

“I just want today to be over …” switching from anger to heart wrenching sobs, “I just want today to be over. Just … can it be over? Please?”

“The only way to do that is to go to the hospital and get those ‘happy’ pills they like to give people for pain.” Critical look aimed at her, “why don’t you want to go? Just get checked out?”

Defeat was now evident and as the fight left her, however miniscule it had been, she made her way painfully back onto the bed, “because they’ll make me talk to someone. Skinner will need to know and he’ll call in the trauma psychologist and they’ll make me talk to them about what happened and I don’t want that and I don’t need that right now and I just want to sit here with you and,” her voice wavered, “just be here with you.”

Tapping his index finger against her foot, “give me two minutes.”

He reappeared with a granola bar, a spoonful of peanut butter, a bottle of Ibuprofen, and a glass of water. Taking charge, he held drugs and water out to her and after she swallowed without argument, he unwrapped the granola bar, dipping it in the peanut butter, “eat this. It’ll settle things down.”

Not sure she cared which way was up anymore, she did as told, handing him the empty spoon a minute later.

Taking it, he set it on the side table, “why don’t you come back out to the couch and we’ll find something to watch and we can watch for lightning so we’ll know when the thunder’s coming. We can prop your legs up like before and if you’re upright, maybe your face won’t hurt and while we’re out there, I’ll hold you really tight and nothing will be able to get you and you can sleep if you want without worrying.”

Honest to God, she relaxed a little, “that was a lot of ‘and’s.”

“Just come on.”

They first perused the weather channel to find that storms were lined up one after another until well into the wee hours of the morning. Forewarned, Scully gingerly held the refrozen peas to her face, “what would you like to watch?”

“You.”

He said things like this at times, just to mess with her and it worked, half a genuine smile ticking up the unswollen side of her face.

He then grinned himself, “or we could just flip through until we both agree?”

They did and as the next storm knocked on the door, they watched reruns of ‘I love Lucy’ and ‘Three’s Company,’ interspersed with ‘The Flintstones.’ The rain and thunder made it loud at times, the TV no match for the lashing of wind and water against the windows. She searched for and found his hand under their blankets, holding tight until she came back to reality, to the understanding that he was still there, the only one in the room, the one who would never hurt her.

Once another episode of whatever had ended, Scully reached for the remote, clicking the TV off, sending them into relative darkness and quiet, the latest storm having rolled past and the next not here quite yet. By now, she had her head in his lap, lying on her side, pillow between her knees to relieve the pressure on the now noticeably less swollen but still painful joint. Given the pillow under her head, her face was still elevated, the drugs having kicked in to bring all her pain down to manageable, except for one …

Mulder’s hand had been playing absently with her arm, running up and down, starting at shoulder and moving to wrist, in slow, steady rhythm …

And it took a moment for him to realize she was crying.

One sniff gave her away.

Moving his hand from arm to neck, he began stroking his thumb over her ear, behind, along her jawline, not saying a word, waiting on her for all eternity if he must.

It didn’t take quite that long.

“I gave up … at the end. I never tried to fight him or overpower him and … I gave up at the end.”

He hadn’t expected that.

“What do you mean, ‘gave up’?

She didn’t move to blow her nose or swipe at fast falling tears, instead gripping his thigh, kneading muscle, “in those last seconds, with both guns to my head, I asked God that it might not hurt too badly; that he would take care of you and my family; and then I just … floated away.”

“Floated?”

“I said goodbye to my life, then, accepting that I was going to die, I retreated.” Rolling to her back, carefully, painfully, she looked up at him, eyes still streaming, “I watched him pointing the guns at me from outside of … myself.” Going quiet for awhile, thinking, debating, the tears slowed while Mulder watched her, studied her, before she continued, “I saw the body on the floor on the other side of the counter, I saw everything … from … above. I think … I think maybe God was already taking me but then decided to shove me back in my body once the bullet left Harper, it was Harper, right?” Mulder nodded, “Once the bullet left Harper’s gun.” Shutting her eyes, another tear ran out and down through her ear to disappear into her hair, “am I crazy? The FBI trauma guy would have gotten that out of me and I can’t …you’re the only one I could ever tell that to.”

A few moments later.

“Mulder?” She slowly sat up, fear in her eyes, “why are you looking at me like I’m crazy? You’re not supposed to do that.”

“I’m not. I promise.” Standing, he motioned for her to lie down again, pillows back in place, then, kneeling beside her, “you didn’t give up. You accepted your fate. They are two very different things in my opinion.” Toying with the flyaway hairs framing her forehead, “you’re kind of running in familiar territory right now.”

In the decades she’d lived through today, she had forgotten about Bremmer and that field, “What did you think about?”

“At the end or the whole time?”

“Both, I guess.”

Shifting his other arm up beside her so he could rest his head on his hand and continue touching her, “at the beginning of the walk, I thought about your laugh and how it always makes me smile, and as I kept walking, I thought about you in that blue dress you have hanging in your closet, and by the time I was kneeling in the dirt, gun hovering, sweat pouring off of me, all I could think of was that one time I danced with you.” He didn’t look embarrassed at his declarations, statements of fact more than deep confessions, but he turned pink anyways, slight shrug and smirk, “can’t control what goes on in your head.”

They had somehow missed the lightning, and the corresponding thunder made her jump, whimpering when her teeth clenched together and put pressure on her cheekbone. Leaning forward, he ran his lips lightly over her forehead, “I’ll go get another round of Ibuprofen.”

“Thanks.”

&&&&&&&&&&

He’d coaxed her back to bed around midnight and at her request, had slid in beside her. No idea how long he’d been asleep, he woke up to something. Listening carefully, he only heard silence but reaching over he found Scully gone, the sheets still warm but cooling fast. Looking around, he saw the bathroom dark so she had to be in the living room or kitchen. His feet hit the carpet a moment later and shaking his head to wake up, still feeling mostly asleep, he headed out of the bedroom.

Living room was also dark and empty so walking around the corner to the kitchen, he found her stockstill in the middle of the floor, standing amidst the wreckage of what had to be at least two of his cereal/soup bowls.

And she was shaking.

“Scully?” Sliding his feet along the floor, he pushed luckily large ceramic chunks aside, “Scully.”

He watched her chest rise and fall, grasping for any bit of oxygen that floated by. Fists balled and pressing into her temples, she had her eyes shut, caught in her own little world of terror. Not sure if he should touch her or not, he instead said her name again, “Scully, it’s me. You’re safe. It’s just me.”

No reaction on her end so he finally reached out, hands on her wrists, trying to pull her arms away, down, but there was a fight, her muscles locked on one task only and they’d be damned if they’d quit now.

“Fuck.” She began swaying forward as he pulled so giving up that route, he instead put his hands on her neck, thumbs back at her jawbone in a reflection of earlier and leaning in, kissed her, saying her name every time he broke the connection.

After a good fifteen times, she finally responded, her hands moving to hold his head, the veneer cracked, the tears falling, the air moving, the muscles relaxing. Holding him to her this time, she kissed him back, then, whispering into his mouth, “I thought about you. I thought about my family, too, but mostly, it was you.”

“What did you think about me?”

Tears were flowing now, her voice becoming soggy and slurred, “about how I would never get to tell you how much I love you; that you mean the world to me; that I should have kissed you years ago when I first realized I wanted to.”

He kissed her again, this time with a purpose other than distraction. Knowing he had to let her breathe, he pulled back, moving her head so she could see him and understand him without question, “I love you  and you mean the world to me and I should have kissed you years ago when I first realized I wanted to.”

With a wet chuckle that made her cheek hurt, she winced but smiled, “those are my lines.”

“No they’re not.” Kissing her again, “I didn’t only think about you in that blue dress.”

Even though her shoulder protested, she wrapped her arms around him, being careful to rest the unbroken side of her face against his chest, “we’re so stupid.”

Maneuvering, he picked her up, “yeah, we are. Come on. I don’t want you walking through here and slicing a toe off.”

He could only make it to the couch given he discovered he had a piece of bowl embedded in his foot after all. Putting her down, he sat on the coffee table, trying to use the streetlamp reflection to dig out the shard. “Do you want me to turn on the light?”

“No.” Holding up a piece so small she couldn’t see it, “I’ve got it.”

“Do you need me to go get you a bandaid?”

He grinned at her, “you’ve slipped into doctor mode. I think you’re gonna be okay.”

Not smiling back but giving him a good look, “you think so?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Twenty minutes later, the kitchen floor was clean, Mulder’s foot was Neosporined and Bandaided, and they were both on the couch, Scully’s knee propped up yet again.

The rising sun was just beginning to turn the sky purple-gray and Mulder, his hand wrapped well around hers, “you made it to tomorrow.”

Tightening her grip for a second, “I honestly never thought it would get here.”

“But it did and it will be infinitely better than yesterday was.”

Another moment or three passed before, “I'm sorry I broke your bowls. I was debating which one to use then one must have slipped and hit the floor and …” shugging, “the next thing I knew you were kissing me.”

Turning on the cushion, he gave her a long look, “there were several minutes in-between.”

She heard his silent request, “give me a little while, okay? If it keeps happening, I’ll go talk to someone.”

“Deal.”

“Also, if you wouldn’t mind, could we maybe go to the hospital later on? I think my knee is worse than I thought.”

A second smile in her direction, he leaned forward, kissing her again, “you are a mess, young lady.”

“But still here … held together with luck and stubbornness but still here.”

“Luck and stubbornness, indeed.”

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Tuesday nights

sequel to: Forgetting

haven’t been around for awhile but this one demanded to be written at 6am this morning ... I didn’t fight it ... :)

just sayin’ -- NSFW ...

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

She had several hundred looks, happy, despondent, elated, confused, curious, contemplative ... 

But the look he caught in her eye when she suddenly pushed back from the conference table, stood and left mid-sentence of the chief in the middle of their debrief, was one he didn’t recognize. Sweat stiff, stringy hair pulled back in an efficient ponytail; grease, gunpowder, and blood still dried on her forehead and cheek; shoulders hunched in a defiant ‘fuck it’. He didn’t try to stop her, though, and neither did anyone else. He had only been half listening and had missed what might have sent her packing, but, with the slightest shrug to the chief and an angry look in return, he remained seated, paying better attention than before.

It took another hour in the room, plus 45 minutes more to finish up the paperwork, before he could finally head out to the main part of the building to find her. He killed another 10 minutes looking in every conceivable corner before finally asking the desk sergeant, “have you seen Agent Scully?”

He nodded, “yeah. She left, oh,” glancing at the wall clock, “about two hours ago.”

Automatically feeling for the keys of the one car they had between them, he found the familiar, jingling lump right where it should be, front right pocket, “do you know if she called a cab or anything?”

“No idea. She just went past like the devil was at her heels.” Knowing they were finished with the case, he knew he better ask now, “do you know if she’s seeing anyone or with …”

Too tired and distracted for that kind of crap at the moment, he nodded, “yeah, for the last two years.”

Good-natured grin settling on his face, “worth a try.”

Mulder was already halfway to her place in his head, and he gave the man a nod, “have a good night.”

“You, too, Agent Mulder.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Finding his coat, he also found hers, plus their pile of paperwork, her extra clip, and her pocket knife. She really had just up and left.

He gathered it all, dumped everything in the trunk, then drove the 25 minutes to her place, looking intently for a five foot tall red-head, sans jacket but with a decidedly angry gate. Not seeing one, he got to her apartment and breathed a sigh of relief at seeing a light on in her living room. Cab it was.

Bringing up what he needed to, he knocked lightly but when the door didn’t open, he found his key and let himself in. He knew she was there by her dirty boots under the side table but not seeing her, he came the rest of the way in, dumping his armload on the floor beside her shoes. His own shoes off, coat hung, he double locked the door, then moved into the room.

She wasn’t in the kitchen but there was a bottle of Long Island and a bottle of vodka on the kitchen table. Neither looked open and as he wondered if he should turn around and go home again, let her sleep, he heard her voice, “I’m back here.”

Turning off the light in the kitchen, he wandered down the hall, stocking feet sinking into the carpet. He didn’t have any expectations of what he would find but honestly, he hadn’t expected to see her sitting, fully clothed, on the edge of her bed. Stopping against the doorframe, “you okay?”

Defeated shrug of her shoulders, “no, but really, is that anything new?”

His smile didn’t convey anything but weariness, “you seem to have left the liquor on the kitchen table.” When that hung between them for a period of time longer than expected, he tilted his head at her, leaning it against wood, “or I can just head home? We both need at least a week’s worth of sleep.”

Her knees already up, feet hooked on the bed frame, she dropped her head of her hand, elbow against her thigh, a sigh emerging from the depths of her toes, but she still didn’t speak, leaving him to sift and interpret as the seconds ticked by.

Not sure if he was barking up the entirely wrong tree, “Third option is asking you if maybe, you would like to forget we work together but without the alcoholic buffer.”

“I tried to drink it. Tried to get my ass good and drunk by the time you got here. I even opened the Tea but then, I just … I cleaned up a little, then ended up in here, sober and waiting for you.” Scully’s eyes shut, one long blink before finally meeting his gaze, “I don’t want to drink our way out of feeling like this. I don’t want to have the only way to deal with our lives is with a blood alcohol level that would have us arrested on the spot.” Shaking her head, she spoke to the ceiling, “God-dammit. I just … I just want to … be normal … do normal things … have a normal life.”

Trying to keep his voice steady, quiet, “with me?”

She flopped back on the bed, “just go get the Long Island, would you? I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“I think you are saying that on some random Tuesday, we should go out to dinner, maybe have some ice cream, then I drop you off at the front door, and, possibly, I give you a goodnight kiss?”

Scrubbing her face with her hands, she groaned, “we don’t have random Tuesdays.”

With a quick smile and glance at his watch, “you realize it’s Tuesday right now.”

“It’s Wednesday.”

“No, Miss Scully, it’s Tuesday.” Finally moving from the doorway, he walked over and stood against her knees, “hungry?”

Looking down at him, standing there all mussed up and adorable, “not really.” Before his eyes could drop to that sad angle she hated to see, “but I could go for a movie and some popcorn.”

“M&Ms?”

“Peanut ones.”

“Are there any other kinds?”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

It was just after 9:30 when Mulder pulled back up in front of Scully’s. Before he had a chance to offer to walk her to her door, “want to come up for some hot chocolate?”

He really should go home, shower, dig the popcorn kernels out of his teeth, but instead, he turned the car off, “sure. I could go for some more sugar.”

Settled on the couch, they drank, they talked about nothing, they watched each other relax, smile, exchange oddly shy looks over the edges of chipped ceramic mugs. Once Mulder had licked the last of his chocolate mustache off his upper lip, he gave her a final grin, “as much fun as this has been, I really need to go home and shower. I’ve been smelling myself since 20 minutes into the movie.”

“I think I smell worse.”

“Doubt that.”

“Do we really want to have this contest?” Standing up quickly, before she could change her mind, she held her hand out, “come on.”

“Are you making me leave?”

Instead of toward the door, she led him down the hall, “no … take a shower.”

&&&&&&&&&&

All plans fall prey to overthinking at some point and Scully’s plan took until she was actually in the bathroom with him to crack. The door was shut, both standing awkwardly in the dimly lit bathroom, overhead light off but nightlight casting pale blue over the room. He’d had some unformed notion that maybe she meant to join him but now that they were actually here, in the room, he had no idea how to proceed. Watching her from his spot in the corner, she took a deep breath, swallowed hard once, then gathered up several towels, washcloths, turned on the faucet in the tub. Never turning back around, she then stripped and hand on shower curtain, stepped in.

Shivers ran continually up her spine and through her bones, pelvis quaking, clit tightening, nipples harder than she’d thought possible but making sure to focus on nothing but soap, water, wash, she carefully undid buttons, clasps, pulled t-shirt over head and pushed jeans and underwear down over her hips. Knowing if she looked at him, she’d lose whatever ground she’d just gained, she instead stepped under the warm spray.

Warm water was one thing; hot, vibrating, naked Mulder stepping in a few seconds later to share shower water and soaped up palms was quite another.

He had his own racing misgivings about the universe in general until he saw bare back, pale, curving hips, and rounded ass. Dropping his clothes, he took his own quick inhale, then stepped in behind her.

She was still facing away from him and, noticing the gooseflesh on her arms, her back, he leaned forward, hand over her shoulder, trying to keep it business-like, “can you hand me the soap, please?”

Her voice was all over the map as she handed him the bar, “washcloth?”

“Yes, please.”

Handing him a fresh one from the shelf just outside the shower where she had put extra moments earlier, “here you go.”

Just as she reached for her own, to begin washing her face, she felt Mulder’s settle on her neck, moving slowly back and forth, sliding smoothly down spine and across back. She hadn’t meant to make the sound but escape it did, a pleasured ‘mmmhhmm’ that automatically drove his other hand around her side to cup her breast, soap trail bubbling behind. It was his voice in her ear, however, that sent her own hand out to steady herself against the wall, “can I wash the rest of you?”

Why, of course he could, as long as her knees held her up long enough to accomplish such a hygienic task.

She doubted they would.

Words weren’t working well at the moment so he got another ‘mmhmm’ and a nod.

That was enough for him.

Washcloth continued its trek over her back, sides, ribs, dipping low over and around her ass, hand leaving breast as he squatted behind her, legs, knees, ankles, feet done. Coming back up, he then reached around, making slow work of her chest, breasts, stomach, and, with a gentle finger, he slid the cloth over and in her parts, not dwelling but definitely feeling her body sway as he ran across her clit several times. Smiling into her wet back, he completed his task by bringing the washcloth back around, slipping in and out of the ass.

Rinsing the cloth, he dropped it on the hanging rack in the corner of the tub, “hair next?”

Obediently, she stepped under the water, hair soaked in seconds, quick dollop of shampoo, lathered and rinsed in less than a minute. Washing her face just as quickly, she drew in a deep breath and turned around, taking him in for the first time.

How she was going to suffer when he put his clothes back on.

Washcloth in hand, her voice managed a “you next” while reaching for the soap he still held.

It may have been possible to get harder but he didn’t think it likely. Nodding, his own voice finally cracked under the pressure, “front or back first?”

“Back. Same as me.”

He was light-headed. ‘Same as’ meant hands in places.

The place.

Turning, he braced himself on the wall, much like Scully had, in preemptive prevention of hitting the porcelain once she actually began touchi…

Cloth on back, soap on cloth, someone else, someone Scully, his someone Scully washing his shoulder blades …

He could very well be dead by the time she hit the important parts.

Vast expanse of muscled back, dimpled dips above his ass and delicious dents on the sides of it … legs long, knees bony, ankles strong, thighs hard, sides planked, arms defined, chest rippled, abdomen sloped, scrotum soft …

He couldn’t help the ‘oh, God’ that rose in his throat when the rough washcloth touched him, then fell away again, returning to clean his backside.

Before he could recover from one sensation, then the other, her hand was back in front, cloth gone, fingers small and hot, using the soap still clinging to him to slowly stroke from one end to the other. His second hand went against the wall, the first not enough to keep him from slithering to the ground.

Another ‘oh, God’ broke the silence and, as Scully pressed her body against him, full length and slick as an eel, his head dropped forward, finally taking in the image of her hand on him, moving, squeezing, pressing, pulling. He desperately wanted to touch some part of her, any part of her but with modern brain capacity shrunk to primitive focus, “please, stop or else I’m not …” he lost words for a moment but rallied, “I’m going to …”

That’s as far as he got because her other hand came around, gripped his balls, rolling them lightly against her palm as she whispered, “come?”

And he did: water dancing across his back, Scully milking him dry, his feet sliding to the sides of the tub, his only hope of staying upright as her movements slowed and stopped. One final drag down his length and she let go, “I’m going to rinse off.”

Mulder understood but could only nod, looking over his shoulder to see her wash a few parts a little more thoroughly, then rinse in record time, smiling at him when she finished, “your turn.”

Waiting until she had climbed out and left him alone, he did the same, stepping out three minutes later, hair shampooed as well. She was already gone, and toweling off like he was attempting an Olympic record, he grabbed a dry towel and headed to her bedroom.

She was standing at the dresser, contemplating a drawer of t-shirts but having absolutely none of that, he grabbed her around the waist, tossing her to the bed, “there will be no clothes for the foreseeable future, young lady.”

It had been a hot button debate ravaging her mind for the better part of that three minutes so she was glad he decided for her.

What she hadn’t been expecting was landing on her back, butt on the edge of the mattress and Mulder dropping to his knees in front of her, “turnabout is fair play.”

She felt her legs being pushed apart, thighs dropping open, the cold rush of air shriveling skin until it was replaced by hot tongue and equally scorching breath.

What the hell?

Oh … oh … hell, he was …

Her back arched involuntarily, pushing his nose up, chin bumping her ass. With a grin, he put his hand on her hip, pushing her back down, “I didn’t realize you were a bucking broncho, woman. Give a man some warning next time.”

She was drunk on the world and her partner, her tongue loosened substantially more than it had ever been with their Long Island getaways. Her words carried to him across the humid air, dripping with anticipation, “let me ride you and I’ll show you what a bucking bronco really looks like.”

Holy fucking hell.

His hips began moving in rhythm with his tongue on her, his hands holding her still as best he could, until that is, he used them to spread her wide, slide his tongue as far into her as he possibly could, his cheeks pushed back against her thighs.

She bucked again and he nearly came himself, her thighs clamping down on him, holding him hostage. Moving out of her, he flicked his tongue up against her clit a few more times until she made a grumbling, throaty, moaning squeak and her hand gripped his hair, a fractured ‘don’t … move …’ keeping him still.

Letting go of him a good ten seconds later, her legs fell slack, and she began to giggle.

Giggle?

He couldn’t help the smile splitting his face.

She giggled.

She was giggling.

He had licked her clit and made her giggle.

He was quite possibly king of the world in that moment.

Crawling up the bed, he kissed her forehead before settling in beside her, “are you laughing at me?”

Turning her head, “at me. I’ve never done that before.” Rolling to her side, “no one has ever been able to do that for me before.” Hand on his face, tracing his upturned mouth, “good Lord, Mulder, can we do it again?”

Rolling toward her as well, he let his tongue lag out, “too tired and out of practice but,” running his hand down her thigh, fingers already finding the sweet spot, “everything else is working just fine.”

Throaty growl, she twisted her hips, lifting one leg for his benefit, “how are you out of practice with the copious amounts of sunflower seeds you eat?”

“Seeds are one thing, girl parts are quite another.”

Her hips were moving lightly against his hand, pubis to palm, “well, then, I may just stay here and enjoy this instead.”

“This is my firing hand. I can go all night.”

Stretching, her muscles shivered, “hang on.” Taking two minutes to arrange a few things, she spread out the towel in the center of the bed, then lay down, beckoning him to lay behind her, “save your wrist a little.”

He did not need to be invited twice.

Molded to her back, hard cock wedged nicely between her thighs, he rested his arm over her hip before resuming his task. Much better position, much better reach, he propped himself up on his free arm, kissing her neck while keeping his rhythm, “can we pretend we’re drunk enough to say things in the heat of the moment that we don’t really mean?”

Intrigued, “like what?”

Groaning into her shoulder, “I really want to grab that beautifully rounded ass of yours while you ride me.”

She felt his hips moving, sliding himself back and forth between her thighs, and went him one better, “how does a reverse cowgirl sound?”

He had to stop moving or else he’d be done, but he didn’t respond.

His stillness was answer enough however, and Scully smiled, admonishing him for his lack of movement in amusement, “who said you could stop moving?”

“Sorry.” Grinning into her skin, “I am so close to the mark again right here … and I recall something about wanting to fuck me but not while drunk.”

Every nerve in her body lit up again, “how close do you think you are?”

“About three seconds and a quarter of an inch.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

He marveled at how smooth and easy it was, sliding into her, hot, wet, perfection. “I love you but I’m not going to last long.”

Her fingers already helping his on her clit, “is that another one of those ‘heat of the …’ back arching, driving him deeper, ‘heat of the moment’ things?”

Forgoing gentle glides and slow movements, he took her by surprise, eliciting an intake of breath and an exhaled ‘oh, God’ from her, with several hard, thwapping thrusts. He then pulled her back, flush against him, as he came, whispering ‘I love you I love youIloveyou’ on a continuous loop into her spine.”

Knowing this definitely wasn’t a ‘heat of the moment’ thing after all, she fought his embrace, shifting off him in order to roll him to his back, climb on top, get him as deep inside as humanly or inhumanly as possible.

Slack in both mind and muscle, he moved where she wanted him to and through his dazing haze, felt her solid weight sink down on him, rhythmic lifts and drops forcing him to focus enough to take in bouncing breasts and sweat shiny skin.

He stayed hard for her as she leaned back, still riding hard, to rub her clit, a mere foot and a half from his face …

18 inches.

He took hold of her hips and met her in the middle, rising to meet her falling pelvis, the results deep enough to make her second  ‘oh, God’ of the night echo off the walls.

When he finally got his wits back about him, she was sprawled across him, her hair sticking to his lips, her warm breath steaming up his chest, “you doing okay?”

“Can this be every Tuesday night?”

Laughing at the slurred whisper of her request, he moved his head to get a clear look at her left eye, colored the softest blue he’d ever seen, “this can be every night.”

“I don’t think my body can do this every night.”

“I’m talking about more than sex.”

Scully lifted her hips slowly, kissing him as she shifted off to lay beside him, “don’t dangle things like that in front of me right now, please.”

“Why?”

“I’m weak and might agree.” Throwing her arm and leg over him, she settled in for a long night’s sleep, “I love you, too, by the way.”

&&&&&&&&&

The next morning, Scully found him with half a frozen waffle hanging from his mouth and a glass of apple juice in hand, staring intently into the fridge. He was wearing sweatpants, thick socks and a t-shirt with a hole in the collar, hair standing on end. Shutting the door, he turned to see her and nearly dropped the waffle when he smiled, “‘sup, Agent Scully?”

Wrapping her old cardigan tighter around her tank top covered upper half, she shuffled an inch closer, ratty slippers sliding smooth across the polished wood floor, “you were staring pretty hard into that refrigerator.”

Aiming his now waffle holding hand behind him, “we need to go shopping. I only found waffles, apple juice, and a questionable stack of vegetarian TV dinners. We can’t survive on that.”

Instead of smiling back, she simply studied him, calculating, recalling, wondering until, “every night?”

He adored watching her accept something as truth and he nodded, “every night.”

“Then, yeah, we should probably take today off and go shopping.”

Without taking his eyes from her, he pulled the magnetic shopping list pad off the fridge and sat down at the table, swallowing the rest of his waffle before uncapping the pen that was attached to the paper, “what do we need?”

Beside him in an instant, she tilted his head back and kissed him, “everything.”

[tatooedlaura-blog]

The Onesie

The fourth series reads as follows:

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

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

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

It was a quiet Thursday, a peaceful Thursday during which Scully decided to have her fun. She’d gotten her two-lined, pink, positive ‘so you’re having a baby, now what?’ plastic perfection results an hour earlier and the plan was set.

Hell, it wasn’t so much a plan as a onesie she needed to go find and had six hours with which to purchase and, oh yes, the baby store did not disappoint. One onesie purchased, she grocery shopped, then headed home, getting Will all spiffy in his new outfit so she could spring her surprise when Mulder got home.

He rolled in about 5:30pm, happy in the idea that, while there was no Thursday card party, he’d get to have his own tiny party of three, complete with spitting up baby, slightly tired Scully, possibly garlic breadsticks and ranch-drenched salad (she’d converted him to the point where he did not internally gag at the thought of salad so score one for Scully).

“What in the world is wrong with you today?”

Scully, who kept losing the fight with her face, grinning unexpectedly every few minutes, shook her head at him, “nothing a little chocolate cake couldn’t cure.”

She was weird.

He told her so.

She smiled again.

He gave up and grinned back as he asked, “what would you like for dinner? I was having fairly good fantasies about breadsticks and salad on my way home.”

Honestly not caring, “works for me.”

“Wysinski’s Pizza Palace or John’s Slices and Sticks?”

She’d purposely gotten Will’s lunch on his shirt and handing him to Mulder, “John’s sounds good. Why don’t you go change his shirt and I’ll order.”

“Ranch, please.”

Fiddling with the phone, she snuck up, standing silent in the doorway to watch Mulder with his large hands, flip and flop their 14-pound son around like he weighed approximately four ounces. Then all movement stopped.

She watched the back of Mulder’s head tilt one way, then the other, then back to first position. Holding Will up at eye-level, he brought the boy closer, then moved him about a foot away. Scully could almost see the squint on Mulder’s face and, biting her tongue to keep from laughing, she instead watched Will giggle when he caught her eye, flailing tiny fists around in ‘I see my mama!’ glee.

Without turning around, Mulder asked Will, “is your mother behind us?”

Will responded with a raspberry.

“I see.” Mulder continued to regard his son, “and it’s pretty safe to assume you did not drive to the store yourself today to buy this particular piece of clothing, yes?”

Wet fist to Mulder’s cheek.

“Okay. Well, then, I guess I should just ask, given I believe you will tell me the truth, if you are indeed going to be a big brother or if this is some randomly cruel joke you have decided to play on your father without your mother’s consent?”

Will wiggled ecstatically, throwing another gummy grin in Scully’s direction before coming in fast to gnaw on the end of Mulder’s nose.

“I will take that as a ‘no, this is not a cruel joke.’”

Will squeezed Mulder’s face with pudgy hands.

Mulder’s voice rose a notch, “I know you’re back there so you might as well just come in and explain yourself, young lady.”

Pushing gently off the doorway she’d been leaning on, “I didn’t think there was much to explain.”

Turning, Mulder held up Will in her direction, so she could clearly see the onesie stating ‘big brother’ on it, “you will explain how you waited a whole half-day to tell me this little tidbit.” His smile lit up the room, “and it better have only been half a day because if you kept this to yourself any longer than that, we’d be having words.”

“8:15 this morning, after you left. I had my suspicions, of course,” moving to stand in front of him, taking the tiny, wriggling, bearer of beautiful news, in her arms, “but I didn’t want to tell you anything until I knew for sure.”

Long kiss to her forehead, then her mouth, “you are forgiven for 9 hours of indiscriminate lying, and what? Two weeks of secrets? One week? Three weeks?” He looked at her, eyebrows up, “how long before suspicion turns into peeing on a stick?”

“About two weeks.”

Forgetting pizza, clean shirts, and current squirming baby, he squished her in a hug, “it was that Mexican night on the couch, wasn’t it?”

Chuckling as she pulled back a little to give her son some breathing space, “I think it was. Then or the next morning, when you decided the lean me over the kitchen table.”

For the love of Pete, he looked proud, “nice.”

“Oh, my, God, you are such a Mulder.”

His own chuckle escaped, “so are you now, in theory, and don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy either encounter.”

She could only shrug, half-smile hidden by Will’s head, “new plan. You order, I feed little monster here and then, maybe, after he falls asleep, we can re-enact a few things.”

“Do I get to lick ranch off of you?”

“I was thinking more about the chocolate pudding I made yesterday, but, I mean, to each their own.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The clock has just turned over to 10 when Mulder sat back, pudding spread from cheek to cheek, licking his lips, “that is possibly the most erotically odd flavor combination in the world. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat pudding again in the company of anyone but you.”

Splayed in front of him, towel under her ass to catch pudding run-off, she gave him a slack-jawed smile, “you should come up here and let me taste it.”

Another few minutes later, Scully pulled back a little, “I have a suggestion.”

Licking her collarbone because it was what he could reach at the moment, “yes?”

“Let me go pee and shower quick, then I come back and give you a taste of your own medicine.”

He bobbed back up to attention in seconds, “can I come shower with you?”

“You can, but you’re just going to need another one by the time I’m done.”

Leaving a pudding ring around her nipple, “three showers in one day never killed a guy.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Third shower done by 11, Mulder snuggled up behind Scully, sleepy and dry, pudding-free and warm, “two kids, Scully. We’re going to have two kids. Two kids in diapers, two kids demanding food, two college tuitions, two sets of new shoes every six months … two rugrat Mulder-Scully’s to argue with over clean socks and dirty underwear.”

“Who said we’re stopping at two?”

He hugged her tightly to his chest, a happy squiggle vibrating up his spine, “are we going to go for a full baseball team?”

“Might as well. We seem to be pretty good at it.”

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Multiplication

The fourth series reads as follows:

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

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

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

“Holy … shit …”

Scully was simply silent.

“Holy … shit …”

Scully drew a deep breath.

“Holy … shit …”

“Would you stop saying that?”

Mulder looked from the monitor to Scully and back to the monitor, fingers nervously touching the screen, then pulling back quickly, wondering if touching the image would make it disappear, “but … there’s two.”

Having regained her faculties, she bumped shoulders with him, losing the connection to her belly but not minding, given she had already captured the picture, “maybe that’s why I’m more vomit-y than with Will.”

He didn’t even call her on the use of the word vomit-y, “How did you not see the first time we did this?”

“All I can think of is one was hiding behind the other and besides, they aren’t that big. Lima Bean 2 may have looked like an air bubble.”

Squinting at her in wonder, “what will you give me to get me to promise never to tell one of our children that for the first two months of their life, you thought they were a fart bubble?”

Wiping the goo off her belly, sliding her shirt back down, “it’ll give them character. I’m fine with it.”

“You’re getting a shirt.”

As she stood up, “I’ll wear it with pride but first,” already moving down the hall, “I’m going to throw up.”

&&&&&&&&&

True to his word, he had a shirt for her which read, “I thought my baby was a fart bubble,” by the time he came home from work the next day but Scully chose not to wear it trick-or-treating, “I don’t want to go declaring things until I’m further along.”

“I know but I think it will go under your sweater just fine.”

Seeing the shine in his eyes and his ‘you’re gonna cave’ grin, she shook her head and pulled sweater off, leaving exposed slightly not so flat belly, “I am going to be huge by the end of May.” She stopped suddenly, “what if they have the same birthday as Will?”

“I know a guy who knows a guy who could do a spell or at least cast a charm that would totally make that happen.”

Oh my God, she honestly thought she might know the guy he was talking about, and with a serious notionative thought that would have scared the bejeesus out of her a few years early, she actually debated on whether to have Mulder get him on the phone.

Sometimes she stopped and wondered what in the world had happened to her straight and narrow life.

He saw first the debate and reached for his pocket, phone within inches, number already floating through the slag to the surface of his consistently cluttered mind, but then he noticed the two seconds of sheer doubt in the entire world and he stopped, reaching into his other pocket instead, to produce a red M&M. Picking off lint, he held it out to her, “this is for you so you remember why you like me.”

Scully ate it from his fingertips, “momentary lapse of reason. It’s gone now.”

Trick-or-treating went well. Scully, Mulder, Dave, and Skinner traveled with the pack while the other parents stayed to pass out candy at Maggie’s. Will pulled in a good haul simply because the alien costume Mulder had made was incredibly adorable, with its green fuzzy material and it hood with giant eyes. Mulder had demanded gray but Scully won, telling him no one would know what he was if the costume was gray.

As a reward for winning, she agreed to share a quarter of her son’s take with his father, “a quarter? What the hell?”

Whispering to him, “three mouths to feed. I get three-quarters.”

He contemplated, then conceded, following with a cocked head, “we’ll have to do things to burn off the sugar high, won’t we?”

“Indeed we will.”

Skinner simply shook his head at the whispering and the giggling of his agents trailing behind, “keep up with the rest of the class, kids. I don’t want you getting lost back there.”

Taking Scully’s hand, pushing the stroller with the other, “come on. Dad doesn’t want us to get lost.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Mulder walked off the elevator the following morning, immediately bombarded by the smell of patchouli and cigarette smoke. Neither smell was to his liking and he entered the office asking, in an irritated voice, “what the hell is that smell?”

A dark-haired woman turned around, answering him in a no-nonsense clip that he would have appreciated had he not already decided she was a pain in his ass given that the smell of smoke that clung to her was even worse once he was in the room, “my name is Monica Reyes.”

Neither Doggett nor Harrison were anywhere to be seen and Mulder narrowed his gaze at her, “how can I help you, Monica Reyes, because there are only roughly nine people who know we exist down here and you are not one of them.”

Non-plussed by the closed and suspicious tone of one Fox Mulder, she held out her hand, never blinking, never looking away, “you must be Agent Mulder. John’s told me a lot about you.”

Ignoring her hand and knowing he was being rude, he continued, “what brand of cigarettes do you smoke?”

Monica tilted her head at him, finally become irritated, “none. The smell on me is from two days of staying with my stepmother. She smokes Marlboro, not that it’s any of your business, while I have never so much as thought about smoking anything, given she has lung cancer and is on track to die a slow, suffocating death. Her name is Patricia. You could call and ask her yourself but that may be hard, given she breathes, and smokes, through a tube in her neck.”

Mulder felt sufficiently horrible by now and shutting his eyes, he regrouped, this time meeting her hand that continued to hover between them, “I’m sorry. I have innate suspicions.”

“Of smokers? Strangers? Women named Patricia?”

All in, “yes.”

“Are you done being an asshole?”

“Probably not but I’ll do my best to keep it to a minimum.” It felt weird to be called out by someone who wasn’t his wife or his boss, “what can I do for you, Miss Reyes?”

“It’s actually Agent Reyes. I’m up here from New Orleans to talk to both you and to my friend, John.”

He was having a fine morning, “can we maybe start over? Let me come back in here and be … less … total dipshit?”

Monica laughed, “you’re fine. John informed me of your incredibly low tolerance for anyone who wasn’t Agent Scully. I actually expected this exchange to be worse.”

Shaking his head, “for what it’s worth, I’m sorry again and,” looking around, “moving on, where is Doggett? He would have had to let you in here.”

“He’s up stealing us the good Danish. It seems the third floor has the best in the building.”

Mulder’s stomach growled loudly, “I hope he steals enough for everyone.” It finally sank in where she was from, “New Orleans, you said, right? Did you come up here to escape Halloween in the city?”

“I love Halloween in the city. It’s almost as much fun as Mardi Gras but without so many boobs and beads but the best is actually tonight, which is ‘Day of the Dead.’ I’m missing one of the best parties of the year to be here.”

Offering her a seat and heading to his behind the desk, “should I be honored?”

“More like informative.” Sitting, back straight, arms loosely crossed, “I’d like to start an X-Files division down south.”

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Catching On

The fourth series reads as follows:

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

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

@today-in-fic

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

&&&&&&&&&&

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

“Holy Shit, Mulder.”

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

“That’s disturbing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No comments on the Gunmen uncles?”

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

“Always my pants with you.”

&&&&&&&&&

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

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

“You were assigned to me.”

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

“Naw, I trusted you from the beginning.”

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

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

“Half-naked.”

“Not in my mind.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hips bucking up, “are you kidding?”

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

Pretense gone, “go wash your hand.”

He did not argue.

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

“How did we not wake up small fry?”

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

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

“Do you think we made the twins seasick?”

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

[tatooedlaura-blog]

The Dessert

the fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing ... Potential ... The Newbies

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

@today-in-fic

you know what? I had sudden doubts about posting an entire chapter about a dessert and I honestly sat and thought about if I should, then I remembered ... this is Life and the Dessert is Life at our house ... It should be at yours, too ...

&&&&&&&&&&

Scully had to laugh. Mulder came home and talked her ear off the first day Harrison worked with him, “my God, Scully, I want to ask where she’s plugged in so I can disconnect her from her power source every so often. You were never this … this …” hands flapping helplessly, “exuberant.”

“Regretting it yet?”

By now, his shoes were off, and she was pressed against him in a full-body hug, his chin vibrating her skull, “I’ll give her time, but really, she’s the damn Energizer bunny gone wild.”

“Have you switched over to decaf yet?”

“Five seconds after she left the interview, I stole a case from the kitchen upstairs. Skinner saw me and asked, but when I told him Agent Harrison had been by, he held the door to the elevator for me and wished me luck.”

Smiling into his chest, “well, it’s Thursday, and you know what Thursday means, don’t you?”

“Cerulean blue punch and failed attempts at sobriety?”

“And one baby.”

“Rock, paper, scissors you for who’s staying straight and who’s drinking the Kool-Aid?”

Mulder lost.

“This could get dangerous, Mulder. I haven’t had a drop of punch in something like 11 months.”

“Dangerous … or the most entertaining thing anyone has seen in a very long time.”

Finally pulling away, grin widening with every moment, “I pumped enough to last Will through tomorrow, but I only get one glass, understand?”

“This should be a blast.”

&&&&&&&&

Not seriously concerned but wondering just the same, “Mulder, does my looking forward to blue-tongued liquor make me an alcoholic?”

“Personally, I think you just look forward to the hangover breakfast. It’s really the only time you don’t have to explain to anyone why you are making a Pedro’s Taco Hut run at 7:15am.”

“Think we should buy some now so I can just reheat them? Save me a step in the process?”

Detouring to their taco haven, “why not.”

Arriving with baby, bag of tacos, and Mulder, Scully entered the house and stopped dead in the doorway, “oh … my … God … she made cheese-stuffed Italian sausage meatballs and garlic bread and …” taking a deep sniff of the air around her, “oh, lord in heaven, she made the Dessert.”

Following with a bit of trepidation given her sudden and intensely frightening nasal superpowers, “what the hell is the dessert?”

Scully didn’t answer, sliding on stocking feet into the kitchen, calling out loudly, “did you use Heath bars or almond and chocolate?”

Maggie’s voice drifted down from upstairs, “Heath bars. What do you take me for, your Aunt Bethany?”

“I withdraw the question.”

Mulder, behind her with a baby and oodles of curiosity, given the mention of Heath bars, “I ask again, what the hell is the dessert?”

Skinner took Will from him, “a frightening looking layered concoction of pudding and Cool Whip and cake and the aforementioned Heath bars. There are two of them in the fridge, and Maggie swears there won’t be any left by tomorrow morning.”

Scully beelined for the refrigerator, opening the door to survey heaven in twin glass dishes, “was there any cake left over?”

“Maggie hid it somewhere.”

Scully sniffed deeply again, bloodhounds around the world instantly jealous of her flaring nostrils, her movements calculated and slow around the kitchen until she stopped at the pan drawer, “gotcha, crazy woman.” Opening it, she turned over the two nested pans and the Tupperware bowl, finding four pieces of dark chocolate cake, one of which immediately went into Scully’s mouth, “like three layers could stop me.”

The two men looked on in befuddlement, “who is that woman?”

Stashing the tacos in the fridge without really looking at the dessert, “I think she’s Scully, but the devilish mumbling is confusing me.”

“Is Maggie going to kill her when she comes in?”

Scully heard them and laughed, “it’s ‘Find the Cake.’ If you find it, you get it. If you don’t, you chase your little brother around until someone falls down in exhaustion.”

Maggie popped around the corner, spying her daughter, “are you going to share at all?”

“Under normal circumstance, highly doubtful.” She did, however, hand over the plate with two large chunks still left, “but since I’m generous to a fault, I will split my winnings in half.”

Mulder took the plate with the smallest amount of apprehension, “why am I still afraid you’ll bite my hand off?”

“You know me.” Kissing his cheek, a crumb or three of cake at the corner of her mouth, “and once again, it’s ‘Find the Cake.’ Mom makes the dessert we all devour, but there’s always cake leftover. She hides it. It turns us all against each other, and then it’s Battle Royale, followed by name-calling and pouting. It’s tradition.”

Mulder turned to his mother-in-law, “you know you’re all crazy, right?”

“You married her, remember that.”

Chewing his mouthful of cake, Mulder’s eyes wobbled in ecstasy, “and I am so glad I did. Had I not, I wouldn’t be related to the baker who made this.” Wondering if he should make a grab for the last piece, “why have none of them ever tasted like this before?”

With a smile, seeing the stealing debate happening, Maggie split the last piece, handing one to her daughter and one to him, “because the Dessert cake is special cake. If you ask any more questions, you’ll get none of the finished product.”

“My God, between Betty and her Punch and you and the Dessert, do you like what I did there, by the way, you can actually hear the capital letters in both Punch and Dessert, you’re on your way to an entire meal where no one knows what they’re eating.”

She swatted him on the backside with the towel she was carrying, “wait until we hit Kitchen Sink night. It doesn’t happen often but when it does, get out of the way.”

Looking towards Scully, whose eyes seemed to glow at the prospect of Kitchen Sink night, “what the hell is Kitchen Sink night?”

&&&&&&&&&

Charlie showed up a little while later, Sarah and their kids gone for the night at her mother’s house, “got enough for me?”

Maggie looked up as her youngest son waltzed into the kitchen, “of course, but I thought you were working tonight?”

“Transformer blew about half an hour ago. I can’t do the updates, and the drive to Sarah’s parents is too long just to turn around and come home, so I thought I’d try to get a halfway decent meal here.”

“Hey, Charlie?”

Turning towards the voice, “yeah, Mulder?”

“Do you know about the Dessert?”

Charlie, for his part, flashed back to 10 years old, and his eyes began darting around the kitchen, reaching for the closest cupboard, pulling the door open so fast it bounced back at him, “where is it? Did you find it already? Please tell me you didn’t find it already?”

Scully laughed at him, bouncing Will against her shoulder lightly, hoping for something approaching a healthy yet non-spitty-up burp, “I beat you by an hour, Charlie.”

“Damn it.” Turning to survey his mother critically, “if I give you $20, can you bake me my own cake, like, right now?”

Mulder would have hugged all of them at that moment if he could have.

&&&&&&&&&

The meatballs were phenomenal, warm, delectable, oozing cheese in every bite, he would have eaten more, but in the middle of dinner, Maggie got up and removed the bowls from the fridge, displaying the Dessert for all to see.

Scully and Charlie slow their chewing slightly.

Finally, dinner was put away, and after the dishes were cleared, the dessert bowls came out. Mulder feared for himself as well as the ladies who just arrived, that they would all be trampled in the clamor to the concoction, but heaping helpings were passed out in an orderly fashion, spoons used instead of scooping fingers, and he breathed a sigh of relief that he most likely would not have to throw himself between Charlie and Scully because someone got an extra dollop of pudding.

Then he scooped up a spoonful.

And ate it.

And forgot the world around him.

There had never been a Dessert, good God-damn, he was thinking in capitals as well as speaking in them, that had ever made him feel this good.

It was cool and slurpy and crunchy and cake-y and whippy and …

Laughter penetrated his cloudy haze and looking up, found all the ladies and Charlie staring at both him and Skinner. Now, he didn’t want to see that look on Skinner’s face ever again, but at this moment in time, he imagined he was wearing the same orgasmic, ‘if I didn’t just get fucked but good’ smile and glad he wasn’t alone in his embarrassment, grinned wider, “this isn’t too bad.”

Napkins, hastily grabbed dishtowels, and one pacifier flew at his head.

He kept eating.

Good to her word, there was nothing left in either dessert bowl by the time the Punch came out. Mulder leaned over to Scully, who was, hand to God, licking her bowl, “you got room in there for Punch?”

“There’s always room for Punch, and given I’ve been off the stuff for a year, I don’t think I’ll be drinking that much anyway.” Then, kissing him full on the mouth, pudding taste everywhere, “you sure you’re okay being designated diaper-er tonight?”

He would have answered, but he was too busy pulling her close to return the kiss, Charlie whining about them in the background while Janet began shuffling the deck.

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Dinosaurs and Cannibalism

The fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing ... Potential ... The Newbies ... The Dessert

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

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

“Do you know that there is a dinosaur that lives in a lake in Georgia?”

Mulder nearly dropped his cards, “Scully!”

“There is, Mulder. I did not want to tell you while we were there and once we got back, I could not tell you but right now, I am going to tell you that I think you just might have been right about that one.”

The table fell silent immediately, Charlie asking, “a dinosaur?”

“Yes. He smashed our boat to bits,” putting her cards down in lady-like fashion, she crashed her palms together, missing the first time but connecting the second, “to bits and bits and it sank and we sat on a rock and ducks scared us and Mulder said he would eat me if he had to.” Suddenly covering her mouth, of course finding contact first time out the gate and slapping herself in the process, “that sounded dirty. I did not mean eat me but eat me eat me, like gnaw on my thigh bone and hope to get rescued before he had to eat my liver which reminds me of this other …”

Mulder stopped her flailing arms vainly attempting to find the vicinity of her liver with pointed finger, then his liver with pointed finger, “Scully, Scully, shh, hey, remember, we don’t talk about things like that at the dinner table.”

“But we already ate dinner and had Dessert …. Desssert … Dessseeeerrt … Mama, do you have anymore dessert … damn it, Dessert … I made sure to caspitalize it this time.”

Mulder’s hands grabbed for her again, successfully pinning her arms to the table, light but firm, “stop waving those fingers around, you’re gonna take out Charlie’s eye or knock poor Ruth to the ground.”

Charlie, for his part in all this, was dying next to his sister. He’d never seen her drink the Punch before and the ruckus she was causing had him laughing to the point of tears, “is she always like this? She’s only had one glass. What’s she like on two?”

Seeing Scully had forgotten dinosaurs and cannibalism for the moment, he let got of her hands, handing her cards back, “no idea. I’m usually rambling on about pie, from what I hear.”

Maggie smiled and slid a glass of water in Scully’s direction, “your sister is usually fairly floppy by now but her M.O. seems to have changed since Will was born so we will just have to watch and see what happens. Meanwhile, since I’m winning, I’d like to get back to the game.”

Back to the game indeed, until 10 minutes had passed and Mulder felt something sliding under his arm. Looking down, he saw slender fingers and scarred knuckles trying to sneak cards from his hand. Whispering at her now leaning-in figure, “what are you doing?”

Whispering, not really whispering, her answer, “I need your eights and your trees, I mean threes.”

The whole table could hear her.

Mulder looked at the messy cards in her hand, “you need ones and fours.”

“I know that but I like your eights and trees better. Eights and threes are all curvy and look like snowmen but fours and ones look like knives and scalpels and sharp things and I do not like sharp things. Too many stitches and hospitals for sharp things. Pointy. Points hurt.” Pulling up her shirt suddenly to reveal a fading scar down her side, “see, Charlie, pointy things do that.”

Charlie sobered immediately, also seeing the puckered gunshot wound of one Peyton Ritter, “Day?”

Scully let her shirt drop back down, oblivious to her brother’s reaction, “snowmen are more fun than knives and definitely more fun than bullets, let me tell you … bullets move fast and they hurt, zing, burn right through you …” Looking around, she smiled, “Ma, are you sure you ran out of cake?” When no one answered, Scully swung her head around, everyone a blur until Charlie, where she stopped, discovering he wasn’t laughing anymore, “are you okay?”

“I’ve just … I’ve never seen your … gunshot … thing.”

She threw her arms around her little brother, “I am fine, Charlie Bucket, never fear. I have Mulder and Walter and Frohippy and Langley and Byers watching out for me.” Hugging him around the neck, “and if everybody else fails, still got you, right?”

He hugged her close, “yeah, Day, you’ve still got me.”

Expecting an answer, all he got was a snort and a giggle, “fails … snails … whales … bales … of hay … day … Day.” Sitting up quickly, knocking Charlie’s chin with the top of her very hard head, “Day. That is my name, ask me again and I will tell you the same.”

Her giggles got them over the awkward bullet wound, liver eating, cannibalistic, Jurassic lean the evening was taking, and making sure she quit while she was ahead, Mulder moved her punch away, far out of the reach of her once again wandering hands, “I told you, you can’t have my cards.”

“But I like yours better.”

And those damn blue eyes batted blurrily at him and without another thought, he gave her his hand, “if you lose with what I just gave you, you’re making dinner for a week.”

Attempting and failing to keep the cards between her fingers, “big ass lasagna, coming up.”

She lost.

Then fell asleep against his shoulder while they played another 20 minutes.

Getting her to the spare room and settling her in, Mulder returned to the game packing up, “hey now, don’t I at least get one round to redeem the last hand Scully massacred?”

Frohike smacked him on the arm, “next time, my friend. Langly is about to crash and Byers already called not it on carrying him inside so we either leave him here or head out now.” Raising an eyebrow, “and that puts him sharing a room with you two.”

“Goodbye, Frohippy.”

Soon, Maggie was giving Will his bottle, and sneaking him upstairs to sleep in the portable crib already conveniently set up beside her and Skinner’s bed. Allowing his child his first Grandma sleepover, he looked over at Charlie, “feel like raiding the leftovers?”

Already headed to the fridge, “way ahead of you, Mulder.” The meatballs were just as good cold and coupled with large glasses of milk, both men were settled on the porch within minutes, Charlie swallowing his mouthful before, “what’s on your mind?”

Looking at his brother-in-law, “I’m sorry for tonight. We’re usually pretty good at keeping work separate from here, but apparently the Punch got the better of your sister.”

“It’s okay, although I gotta say, it was a little unsettling to see her scars like that. I know she’s been shot but to actually see it …” he shuddered slightly then returned to his food, taking another forkful, “let’s just say, I’m going to go home and thank Sarah for having the nice, safe job she has.” When Mulder didn’t respond, “can I ask you something?”

“I can’t guarantee I can answer but I’ll try.”

“How often are you two really in danger? I mean, serious, I could very well die today danger?”

After chewing, swallowing, drinking, clearing his throat, Mulder answered, “your sister, not very often anymore but me … probably a couple times a month at least, depending on the case.”

With the frankness only a little brother could have, “then why do you still do it?”

He couldn’t come up with an answer.

&&&&&&&&

Scully woke to Maggie warming up a bottle and humming in the kitchen outside the bedroom door. Getting up, she found she was, while not hungover, incredibly thirsty. Joining her mother and son, she drank a full glass of water while running her fingers over Will’s perfect handful of scalp, downy softness beneath her palm, “how did he sleep?”

“Like a baby.” Maggie nuzzled his forehead, “he only woke up once with a wet diaper but otherwise, he let us sleep until a few minutes ago.”

“He’s a good boy like that.” Fingers leaving Will, she moved to the fridge, “I don’t have a hangover, but I’m going to eat my cold tacos anyway. Want one?”

“No, thank you. Walter will be down soon and he’ll make the oatmeal and we’ll eat then.”

Taco en route to her mouth, she stopped, “should I wait?”

Maggie eyed the congealed burrito bean paste solidified on the end of the tortilla three inches from her daughter’s face, “I’d prefer not to watch you eat that while I’m eating, thank you.”

With a grin, Scully bit down, beans and rice threatening to spill down her chin, “but it’s so good.”

“You are not my child.”

Continuing her eating, she moved to the back door, “did you know Mulder and Charlie are out here?”

“Are they in the hammock together?”

Her Mexican mouthful nearly exited her nose, “thank God, no.”

“Someone should probably go wake them up so they can get to work.”

Seeing potential in such a suggestion, she scooted outside, leaning over her brother upside-down, nose to nose, “Charlie? Charlie? Time to get up.” When he didn’t move, she said it louder, “Charlie!” then got the hell out of the way, knowing he would jump up immediately.

He did not disappoint.

He also stumbled forward after he stood and ran right into the deck railing, hanging over for a moment before, “damn it, Dana, you trying to kill me?!”

“Just scare the hell out of you. Did it work?”

He remained where he was, head hanging over, “what time is it and if it’s before 6, you’re going to suffer.”

“It’s 5:54.”

Groaning, “Good Lord, woman, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“You have to go to work.”

“I’m having a meatball hangover. I can’t be expected to think today.”

Walking over to him, she tapped the back of his knees with her toe and watching him collapse to the ground, still hanging onto the railing, “you finished them?”

“Your husband helped.”

She truly enjoyed hearing him called that and smiling, “he probably had three while you scarfed the other fifteen.”

“Guilty.” Letting go of the rail, he leaned against the support, “you should scare him, too. Let him join me in my utter loathing of you at the moment.”

With a ‘pshaw’ and a ‘guffaw’ she leaned over Mulder the same way but this time, the moment she said his name, he opened his eyes and grinned, “hi there, wife.”

“Morning, husband.”

Charlie groaned, “both of you just shut it. You’re disgusting at 6am.”

“I thought we were disgusting all the time.”

Charlie simply lay down on the deck, “just let me go back to sleep in peace, would you?”

[tatooedlaura-blog]

The Newbies

the fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing ... Potential

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

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

Home after dark, waking up in the dark, getting dressed, eating, changing a wayward diaper, double locking front door, Mulder stretched as he walked towards the car, wondering just how long his day would be quiet.

Not as long as he expected.

Apparently, his day was good for 1 hour, 22 minutes then hell arrived in the form of short, blond pep.

He’d called Agent Harrison as soon as he made it to the office, leaving her a message saying he’d like to meet with her sometime in the next day or two to discuss her file and the work of the X-Files. Instead of calling, setting up a time, following protocol, she arrived in the basement with a speedy click of heels and teeth … lots of white, smiling teeth.

That’s all he saw of her at first: rows of white, pearly teeth, straight, shiny.

Then her hand arrived, out to shake before he managed to stand up straight, brush off his donut crumbs, remember how to focus on something more than four inches from his face. Taken aback, he stared at the tiny hand, cheap watch, sleeve of suit jacket pulled up above narrow wrist …

Holy fuck …

Scully had re-enlisted in the form of Leyla Harrison.

Just, as he would learn in the next two minutes, a little, well, hell, a shitload more, enthusiastic.

Scully had begun arguing with him within the first two minutes.

Agent Harrison gushed about the X-Files and all their virtues and beauty for the first five minutes before he finally cut her off, “hi. You must be Agent Harrison. I didn’t expect you here quite so quickly. Would you like to sit down?”

Oh, God, as soon as the words left his mouth, he cringed. He offered her a chair. A place to settle in, talk until she used all the air in the room, suffocated him with words of undying devotion.

He let her ramble a few more minutes before pulling her back in again, “I’m sorry, Agent Harrison, would you like a cup of tea, coffee?”

Giving her something to hold did the trick, her hands occupied, her mouth slowing until he could process the words and sentences rolling towards him, “yes, thank you, Agent Mulder, coffee, please. I’m sorry.” Looking down at the cup he handed her moments later, “I have a tendency to blather, a lot, when I meet people I admire.”

And with that, she held her tongue.

Good lord, he actually liked her.

He really’d been hoping he wouldn’t.

But he did.

At least for now.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

She left an hour and a half later and the first thing Mulder did was shut the door and call Scully, “what did you do to me?”

And feeling just a little bit saucy and a wee bit riled up, “nothing today but I have plans for you that’ll make your eyes roll back in your head.”

His mouth went dry for the slightest second then, grinning, “tell me more.”

Watching her son finish his bottle, she stood and headed into the kitchen, “I will once you get home but for right now, what did I do to you that I don’t know I did to you?”

“You sent me a woman who is enthusiastic, doesn’t shut up, adores everything about anything weird, supernatural, or out there, and thinks that both you and I are the shit.”

“Sorry. I’ll keep combing the files. There has to be somebody out there who hates you with every fiber of their being. I’ll find them. Don’t worry.”

“Sarcasm is your thing, Scully, let me tell you.” Sitting back in his chair, looking up at the sparse pencils still stuck in his ceiling, he made a mental note to add more in the future, “I will say though, once I began sifting through her babble, I found some good theories, ideas, directions I might not have taken.”

“Did you show her some cases?”

“Yeah. She did pretty well given she’s only every really worked in accounting. She’ll need a lot of handholding in the field but I’m seriously considering trying her out.” Because she was Scully and he was Mulder, he answered her before she could even ask, “but she doesn’t hold a candle to you.”

Seriously, she had to get these hormones under control, “I was going to ask if she believed in Big Blue.”

“Uh-huh. Sure you were. So, you want to hear about her?”

“No. It’ll be more fun with a live re-enactment.”

Not wanting to let her go just yet, “then tell me what you’re doing with that kid of ours.”

“We got up late so he just finished his bottle and I’m about to eat,” having warmed frozen pancakes and rolled them around some science-oven sausages, “dirty things for breakfast.”

“Sausages in sweaters! Without me? How dare you.”

She liked to make him smile.

&&&&&&&&&

John Doggett, on the other hand, called back and set up a time to meet, the next day, 1:30 in the afternoon.

He arrived 3 minutes, 10 seconds early and stepped off the elevator with about as much trepidation as a seasoned police officer could muster surrounded by copy paper, handcarts, and the prospect of working with Fox Mulder. Namely, he figured he’d get to see what all the fuss was about surrounding the X-files and what he hoped would be a decent cup of coffee. He’d been searching out re-assignment to the DC area, looking for a change of scenery, a change of boss, a change of his life in general …

And why not do the interview? It would be a temporary assignment, get him used to the city, allow him to meet other agents, see if the Hoover Building tickled his fancy.

Then he registered the yelling.

But it wasn’t angry yelling …

It was a good old-fashioned shouting match argument like the ones he used to have with his guys back before the Bureau.

Eyebrow raising slightly then dropping back in place, he listened to mention of bats, invisible snakes, bite marks, and some science-y jargon he could neither spell nor repeat even with gun to head. Wondering if he should just get the hell out now, the voices suddenly stopped, then the door opened further, “ahhh, see, I told you I thought I heard the elevator.”

John Doggett was confronted with a cautiously friendly Scully smile as she stepped slightly aside, “come on in … welcome to the basement.” Holding out her hand once he was inside, “I’m Agent Dana Scully and my partner there is Fox Mulder. If you heard mention of giant vampire bats, don’t hold it against him, the bite marks are remarkable similar.”

Mulder moved to shake his hand yet directed his words at Scully, “so you admit vampire bats exist, just not giant ones?”

Leaning over the car seat stationed safely dead center of a cluttered desk, she made sure their arguing hadn’t woken Will, “I never said they didn’t, Mulder. Common, hairy-legged, and white winged are well document in their species and while I don’t subscribe to there being ones with six-foot wingspans and the ability to drain a person of their entire blood supply, their faces have a slight resemblance to pigs and that amuses me enough to allow you to ramble on without me killing you with a stapler.”

Glancing sidelong at a silent Doggett, “he’s still here.”

“That’s a good sign.” Finally turning her attention to the new guy, “would you like a cup of coffee?”

&&&&&&&&&

They talked to him for over an hour, drilling him about cases, opinions, past alliances, and why he drank his coffee black. Mulder analyzed every little quirking finger twitch, non-invasive nose scratch, and random, rapid blink. Scully kept Mulder reigned in enough to not send Doggett screaming into the hallway.

Doggett wondered what the hell kind of circus ride he might be getting himself into and how long it would be before both the agents in front of him were carted off by the lovely men in white coats with caged-lined vans.

Finally, the pair seemed to have finished their interrogation and Doggett got to open his mouth, his first sentence being, “I think the pair of you are thick as thieves and crazy to boot.”

Honest-to-God, Scully liked him and she thought that maybe Mulder might, too, “I keep his crazy in check.”

“She needs a little crazy every now and then. It works well for both of us.”

Doggett couldn’t help it. He had to smile, hang his head while doing it mind you, but smile, “I can only promise that I’ll do my best to solve these cases. I won’t be buying into the whole paranormal thing and I will never believe that Casper or Chuckie did it in the basement with magic herbs and a summoning circle but I will catch the bad guys, I guarantee it.”

Mulder folded his arm in a loose gesture of agreement to Scully’s unspoken question hanging between them, “he knows what a summoning circle is and whether he learned it on TV or from his hippie big sister, he used it properly in the sentence.”

“Mulder.”

Holding his hand out to Doggett, “feel like giving it a trial run?”

Without hesitation, he shook back, “when do I start?”

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Potential

the fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing ...

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

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

Sitting on the back porch of the beach house, sun lower than the roof, throwing them in shade and a semi-cool breeze, Mulder veed his knees up, propping Will, his miniscule baby bum wrapped in an impossibly small diaper, on his thighs, tiny feet wiggling and occasionally making contact with Mulder’s belly.

“You have the most adorable feet,” catching one and leaning forward to kiss the heel, then the barely there toes, “but don’t tell your mother, she’ll get jealous.”

Scully, files stacked on her folded legs, “I shall contain my rage.” Holding the top folder up, “John Doggett. New York cop, detective, now works for the FBI in Investigation. Military man, Marine …”

Mulder cut her off, mouth still nibbling Will’s feet, “he’s got that damn DoD rec letter. It just doesn’t sit well.”

“I know,” pulling the letter out, “but it looks like a standard thing and remember, Skinner picked him for us originally. I trust that, Mulder, almost as much as I trust if you’d have done it.”

Sitting back, now playing with Will’s finally fattening legs, “how old is he?”

“40, I think.”

“Beats the toddlers I’ve dealt with so far. Married?”

“Divorced. One son who died a few years back.” She’d forgotten that part and with sudden shooting fear in her heart, she looked over to make sure Will was still there, “um, it’s why he left New York.”

Mulder felt the same chest-compressing panic and with a deep breath, kept an eye on his boy as he nodded, “I’d like to talk to him.”

Simultaneously cheering and praying, she opened a second folder, “and then we have Leyla Harrison. She dropped her resume off to Skinner a few days ago and mom dropped it off yesterday morning. She’s incredibly green but apparently has enough enthusiasm to keep the home fires burning in the basement for decades to come.”

“So, she’s you but might actually believe me one day?”

She would have thrown the file at him had Will not been within papercut vicinity, so she settled for a smirking glare and full-on ‘bite me’ eyebrow, “don’t push it, Sparky. You may never see me naked again.”

“I’ll take that bet ‘cause I don’t think you’d be able to follow through.”

Returning to her papers, “yeah, probably not.”

Mulder held his finger near Will’s hand until matchstick grippers grabbed him tightly, squeezing the bejeezus out of pointer, well, Will-size bejeezus, which, really, felt like almost nothing and fairly close to heaven at the same time, “your mama likes me.”

“Don’t listen to him, Will, I’m just here for the beach house.”

Shaking his head and grinning at both wife and son, “read me out this Harrison person. Let’s see if she’ll make it through the first week.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&

It took a fair amount of arguing, but in the end, Mulder begrudgingly admitted that both Doggett and Harrison might possibly be a semi-decent fit for his life’s work. That out of the way, he followed Scully into the house, ready to eat the dinner, ready to bathe the kid, ready to snuggle with the wife, ready to spend one more night on vacation in king-size perfection.

It wasn’t until they’d reached the snuggling part that the lightning began flashing off in the distance, thunder rumbling low at first but becoming louder and closer with every minute. Soon, the windows were rattling as the wind and rain pummeled the little house. Will, like his parents, didn’t sleep through the onslaught, but unlike his parents, Will cried his pitiful cry, Scully nuzzling him close, fitting him safely between her breasts, close to her heart, leaning back on the pillows Mulder shoved behind her. Repeatedly kissing Will’s head and whispering nonsense love to fall on his ears, she glanced over, seeing Mulder settling beside her, “I’ve changed my mind. We should move here right now.”

“Give me time to train the newbies and ween myself from the guns and the monsters and we’ll talk.

Knowing that was about as likely to happen as her ever liking pie, she sank into the fantasy for a moment, then, “how about we meet in the middle and just come back here in a few weeks? Maybe bring the rest of the kids out sometime.”

“I’d like that. Have sandcastle contests and beach bonfires and hot dogs and s’mores …” trailing off, “damn it, I’m hungry again.”

With a chuckle, “I’ll take half of whatever you go get, if you don’t mind.”

“Sandwiches, coming up.”

&&&&&&&

Once fed, half-asleep and jelly-boned, Mulder slipped an arm over her belly, soft whisper in her ear, “I could get used to this.”

Pulled back from oblivious dreamland, she asked into the darkness, “aren’t you already used to this?”

“I question perfection, Scully, you should know that by now.”

Turning her head enough to kiss his temple, “don’t question this, Mulder. Whatever else happens in that head of yours, don’t question this … ever.”

“We should have another.”

“Kid or cottage?”

“Kid. Cottage. Both. House in Baja to surf whenever we want, kids to teach.”

“You’re dreaming, aren’t you?”

Breathing out a long sigh that signaled full-on sleep mere moments away, “you taught me how to hope, Scully. Unleashed a monster.”

She was awake the rest of the night, visions of a future out of her reach forefront in her ever tumbling mind.

&&&&&&&&&&&

They were so close to having a completely phone-free weekend but right there, smack dab in the middle of breakfast, Scully’s phone vibrated: across the table, onto the floor, plastic thump, then across the wood, stopping only when it hit a rug. Both stared at it silently, just the other side of amazed, “persistent little bugger, isn’t it?”

“I’m not looking at it until we are finished eating.”

Not about to cross her, he did set a little timer in his head to keep track of just how long the phone hiatus would last, knowing her and her familial connections wouldn’t allow her to ignore a possible issue with one of them for more than a few minutes.

3 minutes, 49 seconds.

She did pretty well in all honesty and he didn’t chide her about getting up, leaning over, retrieving electronic nonsense from the floor, “don’t say a word.”

“I’m not.”

But he would say more later, when she was a few hours from having caved to technology and could see the humor in the 3 minutes and 49 seconds.

“So, who’s yelling at you?”

“Mom.” Listening to the voice mail, she smiled, “she says she’s planning a surprise party for Walter in a few weeks and you are expected to keep him out of the house beforehand.”

Mulder studied the air above her head for a moment, then, “instead of dread, I feel something akin to gleeful anticipation. Is that wrong?”

“You’re going to make him crazy for the whole day, aren’t you?”

Nodding with an enthusiasm that made her just a little bit nervous, “Oh, your mother never should have given me her Walter.”

&&&&&&&&

Waiting until the very last possible moment to start the drive home, Mulder locked the door behind them, Scully standing still beside him, Will in her arms. When she didn’t move down the steps to the Jeep, he peered around her shoulder, “Scully?”

And then he saw tears streaming down her cheeks, soaking chin, shirt, kid, “do we really have to go home?”

He grabbed them both in the softest, bone-crushing hug he could, “you are adorable, you know that?”

One giant sniff later, she got herself under control, “I hate hormones.”

Squeezing her a second time, “come on, woman, we’ll be back in two weeks and how does staying a whole week sound?”

“Perfect.” Moving towards the car, “and just to remind you, if you breathe a word about this to anyone, I swear to you, you will never, ever, see me naked.”

Holding her hand down the steps, “we just had this talk yesterday, didn’t we?”

“How about I will never, ever, ever, share another bag of M&Ms with you so long as we both shall live.”

“Now that’s just mean.”

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Life, in a nutshell ...

Hi there,

Thought maybe ya’ll would want to catch up in preparation for part 4 ... just sayin’ ...

:)

Life, part 1

Life, part 2

Life, part 3

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Five Words

I’m back again ... this time with a requested ‘Leonard Betts’ follow-up ...

this tried to kill me a little bit ... not lying ...

@laurenclare88 @today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

No surprise to either Mulder or Scully, he was awake when she called, “hey, it’s me.”

“Hey, me, you okay?” Twisting his head back to see the clock behind him, “it’s almost midnight.”

“Feel like getting some hot chocolate? Coffee? Platter of waffles the size of your head?”

He heard something in her voice, and not sure if she’d been crying or sound asleep until five seconds before she called, he sat up, “well, Waffles and Stuff is open and in the middle so we can meet there, if you’d like, or if we hit Rolls and Holes, I’ll come pick you up.”

It was actually called Benny’s Café but they specialized in homemade cinnamon rolls and peanut butter donut holes, hence Mulder’s highly inappropriate, yet completely fitting, nickname.

She didn’t laugh like she normally did, juvenile as the nickname was, and he headed towards his shoes, wondering what could have happened since he left her yawning, at her front door, two hours ago, “Waffles and Stuff is fine. See you in ten.”

She must already be in the car because it took ten minutes to get there. Hurrying now, he tossed on a sweatshirt, then his jacket, heading out the door a minute later, turning left for the stairs instead of right to the elevator because hoofing it would be faster. The car ride there was quiet, traffic light, pavement dry.

Waffles and Stuff was empty this time of night, and as he parked, he spotted her already in their booth in the corner, having graduated from the counter a year or so back. Waving to both the cook and lone waitress, Max and Catherine as they had learned some time ago, he slid into the bench across from his partner, “fancy meeting you here.”

She didn’t feel like banter tonight, heavy burden weighing but not forming concrete thoughts able to be spoken out loud just yet. Instead, “you want to split the waffles or fly solo?”

“Scully.”

Hands on the table, she raised one in his direction, fingers waving absently, wrist bobbing in a ‘give me some time’ gesture, “I think I’d like to split a set of Belgian with extra butter and get bacon and sausage on the side. How’s that sound?”

Now she was just freaking him out. Stopping her flopping hand, “Scully? What happened? Is it your mom? Bill? Talk to me, please?”

She jerked her hand away from him, nearly taking out her water glass in the process, “just … they’re fine … I just …” frustration made her words stutter, nostrils flare, jaw tighten for a moment, “I haven’t …”

Not pushing in the moment, he leaned forward, holding his pointer finger up to stop Catherine’s approach, “do you want to eat here or get it to go? We can share in the car if you want.”

Eyes shutting, she took a deep breath, palms flat on Formica. Exhaling slowly, she found her center for a brief second, “just some hot chocolate for now.”

Mulder called the order to Catherine, adding a ‘thanks’ before returning to Scully, speaking slowly again, “are you okay?”

Her head shook a ‘no’, eyes glued to the table, fingers white. Mulder’s stomach tightened but venturing a guess that she’d had a nightmare about Betts and couldn’t form the words yet, he nodded, trying again to touch her, tracing his fingers over the cold knuckles on the back of her hand, “you’re fine here, okay? We can stay as long as you like.”

Caught between crying and screaming, she let him run his fingers over her for another moment before sliding back, hands dropping to lap as eyes bounced from his chin, then to his chest before landing on his still extended hand, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

She knew damn well she didn’t wake him up, but both realized she needed to steer them back to middle ground, neutral conversation, “you didn’t. I was watching ‘Golden Girls’.”

Not knowing this particular vice, she met his green eyes, almost smiling, “who’s your favorite?”

“Um, Sophia. What kind of asinine question is that?”

Hot chocolate arrived amidst the debate of Sophia vs. Rose and ordering their smorgasbord, things stayed light through another side of bacon and a second helping of hot chocolate. Stuffed by 1:15am, Mulder saw her drifting away again, heaviness settling where frivolity had been moments earlier. Tapping her ankle with his shoe lightly, she didn’t startle but refocused on him, “that better be you.”

Continuing, “it is.”

“Good. Otherwise, we’ll never be able to come here again.”

Catherine somehow managed to clean their table without disturbance, in, out, feeling the odd pall over them. Neither so much as glanced her way.

Subtly lifting his leg, he set his foot on the booth beside her, preventing any escape from his next questions, “what happened? Did you have a nightmare about Betts? Did you see something? Hear something?” He felt microscopic pressure against his ankle as her thigh muscles tensed to move but he held steady, not letting her leave. Voice dropping to a whisper, he leaned forward, “you’re starting to freak me out.”

Her face crumbled for a moment, then snapped back to normal 1 am, shifting gears a third time when her eyebrows crashed together, lip curling, chin wobbling in an instant, then back to normal. The gambit of emotions that crossed her face in under four seconds was heart-wrenching and Mulder followed along, panic about to overrun control.

Moving his foot, he shifted in beside her, arm around her shoulder, fear growing exponentially, his voice wobbling quietly in her ear, “what happened?”

“Betts told me I had something he needed.”

With the speed of a fucking bullet, realization froze his heart, and his other arm completed the circle around her, pulling her into his shoulder, burying his face in her hair, “Betts in a psychopathic fucker.” She couldn’t quite find words to tell him about the bloody nose that had sent her spiraling so she tried to move closer instead, wishing for a way to crawl into his lap without rebuke or reprisal. Ice still coursing through his veins, he choose denial mode as opposed to depths of despair, comfort instead of chaos, “he’s certifiable, Scully, why would you give him a second thought? A first thought, even?”

When she didn’t respond, he let go of her, standing, tossing money on the table and taking her hand, “come on.”

When he pulled away from her, she nearly sobbed, missing him in that second more than she’d missed him in … well … possibly ever. Seeing his extended hand started the roller coaster all over again and shifting, she followed in silence, little hand wrapped in big, not waving goodnight to their hosts, not seeing anything but his jacket inches from her nose.

Her nose.

And the slightest headache thrumming behind it.

She stumbled over the curb, running into his back, catching herself before hitting the ground. Her control was gone, her walls blown to hell, her mind focused on five words, four years, three drops of blood, two people, one soul and the suddenly ticking timebomb of a six-letter word.

She couldn’t say it.

Mulder had her face in his hands, trying to comprehend the unimaginable, eyes darting between hers, betraying any kind of cool exterior both knew he didn’t have, “you’re fine, Scully. You are going to be fine. Betts is … was … and ever shall be … nothing to us. He wanted to get under your skin and he knew how and he did it and he’s burning in hell right now and you can’t listen to anything he said. Do you hear me?”

Held still by large palms and calloused fingers, she let the tears escape, her voice reaching his ears in a wet, spitty, stilted stutter, “you … you didn’t hear … how he said it … Mulder. He … he had sympathy in his words, the look …” eyes closed for a moment, swallowing hard, “he looked genuinely sorry.” Choking inhale in, one sob shook both to their core, “he wasn’t saying it to be cruel. He was saying it … to be kind … and he’s dead and he can’t … he could have …”

Shaking his head, he finally pulled her into a hug, most of her upper body disappearing into his embrace, “he couldn’t have done anything, Scully. He removed tumors because he needed them. Doctors do the same thing. He didn’t cure, Scully,” he kept saying her name, needing to hear it out loud, prove she was still standing in front of him, his denial in place but his fear still winning, “he removed. Doctors cure, he mangled, he cut, he … he couldn’t have helped you but Leonard Betts doesn’t matter anymore because your fine and he’s gone and he was just fucking with your head because he could. He would have said the same thing to me had I been in the ambulance with you. I know enough about these people to know it would have ended with that phrase regardless of who was in the truck.”

Neither was sure who he was trying harder to convince and neither dwelled on it.

Instead, she stayed up on the curb while Mulder was one notch below in the gutter, hug evened out, height difference conquered with concrete and asphalt. A cone of silence enveloped them, traffic noise, barking dogs, airplanes overhead, all fading away, until, Scully, mess of emotions somewhat in check, spoke quietly into his chest, “will you take me home?”

“Of course.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&

Leaving his car behind, he drove hers to her apartment, both climbing stairs and locking doors behind. Her microwave clock now read 2:09am as she held out her hand to take his coat, walls still down, mind and heart exhausted, “would you mind sleeping in with me tonight? I wouldn’t normally ask but …” sentence running off to nowhere, she waited, eyes pleading in that Scully way.

“You got any sweats for me?”

Once in bed, not as awkwardly as either expected, they remained a civil distance apart but facing each other, eyes tired, eyes burning, eyes not breaking contact for fear the other would disappear in the time of a blink. Mulder, desperate to reach out to her, kept his hands to himself, “you’re fine. You will always be fine. You’ll go to the doctor if you need to tomorrow and he’ll tell you there’s nothing to worry about and then we’ll go ride roller coaster somewhere or run through the fountains of DC naked in celebration that I was right and you were wrong.”

She had already planned the following morning in her head but staying silent about that, she instead flashed him a small smile, trying her best to make it look genuine, to force her eyes to sparkle in amusement just enough to allow him to fall asleep in peace, “naked, huh?”

He saw through her bullshit like she was a plate glass window, “not on the roller coasters.”

“Oh, no. Definitely not on the roller coasters.”

Trying to keep his voice steady, “you’re going to be fine.”

Finally reaching towards him, his hand met hers halfway, “I know.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Sleep eluded him, preferring to listen to her stuffy inhale than to drift into slumber but even the great Fox Mulder eventually had to give in to sleep, drifting off around 4:15. Scully, faking until 3:30, woke at 5:45, slipping out of bed, five-minute shower, out the door by 6:30, leaving her partner behind.

Three favors later, she was trying to hold herself together in the MRI tube, magnets banging, head aching, muscles tensing with each new sound. How could that machine capture anything when her mind was racing so fast the images should just be a blur of thoughts, smudged terror captured in black and white, brought to you by the marvels of science?

She wished he was there so she could hold his hand.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Mulder could fake a few things as well. He woke when she left the bed, stayed still, eyes shut, while he listened to her shower. He heard her come back in, sort through her closet, open dresser drawers, felt the air in the room change as she did, donning armor for her day ahead. She was at the foot of the bed so not in his possible waking view but to know she was comfortable enough to do her routine with him asleep five feet away made him quake inside. He held it together, even as she returned to the room, keys lightly clinking in hand, to give him a lingering kiss on the cheek, to brush his hair back as her thumb ran over his forehead.

He waited five minutes after he heard the front door lock before rolling over, stretching, missing her beating heart and radiating heat. Staring at the ceiling when done, he refused to ponder, instead, two grunts and a back crack later, he was up, standing, heading to the shower.

Problem was, the warm water, the smell of her soap, the view of damp towel on rack and dry one beside, just for him, caught him off-guard. Halfway through soaping up, he broke down, standing under the water, sobbing tears covered by loud water pinging off the walls. He gave himself what felt like five minutes before straightening back up, finishing his shampoo and wash, ending with a steamy-mirrored pep talk during which he convinced himself Scully would be just fine.

Making the bed, he headed out, calling a cab to get him to the diner, then driving himself home, waiting impatiently for a phone call he knew was inevitable. He could have heading to the basement, he could have taken a nap, he could have stared at the wall and had a panic attack the size of Montana but instead, he read his email, his phone never far from his hand.

&&&&&&&&&&

Scully saw the mass, a bright white spot of dread in her sinus cavity, doctor explaining, in the background, diagnosis and treatment options, but most of her attention was filled with it.

It.

IT.

That thing settled comfortably next to her brain.

IT.

Mesmerized, she nodded when they asked if she’d like to be alone for a minute; if she would like to call someone.

And then it was quiet, the snick of the shutting door the only noise in the room.

Leaving just her and the bright white mass on the light board.

“Mulder. Could you come down to the hospital, please?”

She could hear it in his voice as he said, “which area?”

“Oncology.”

The sound of a fight building. The sound of defiance taking root.

Or denial.

“I’m on my way.”

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Sidebar Nonsense

This one follows up ‘Memento Mori’ ... There’s cancer and angst and light humor and tears ... all rolled into one ...

Our Moment Chapter 1: Five Words Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense

@today-in-fic @laurenclare88

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Scully held it together as she walked away, slippered feet silent in the 5am halls, robe tied tight, shoulders held high. She could feel his eyes following her so she didn’t give in until she turned the corner. Immediately, she tilted against the wall, three deep breaths in, trying to keep the vomit from rising past the point of no return, from landing in a splashing nightmare all over the linoleum floor. Her head felt like it was about to split, sweat breaking out on her cold skin, running down her back and between her breasts. Gathering strength and wondering how the hell she made it through sitting with Penny and through her hallway confessional with Mulder, she got back to her room, cold water on her face and more deep breaths as she gripped the edge of the sink. Calming her stomach enough to be able to get dressed, she rested against the bed, exhausted to the bone, the last few days a whirlwind nightmare of medication, loss, fear, and pain. She wanted nothing more than to go to sleep but not about to settle back on the bed behind her, she stood, got her bearings and went to meet Mulder.

She knew he’d be outside her door, waiting. He wouldn’t come in without knocking but four years together told her he would be standing guard whenever she had finished packing and, true to form, he held out his hand to take her bag. “Do you have to let anyone know your leaving?”

Lying through her teeth because she couldn’t take the thought of discharge paperwork and follow-up care, “yes, I took care of it last night.”

He saw through the lie but didn’t question her about it, instead aiming his partner towards the elevator, “do you think you can handle the ride home? It’s going to be about four hours.”

The thought of that had her shutting her eyes, leaning on the jamb of the elevator, “four?”

“At least.” All the knowledge in the world couldn’t have prepared him for just how tired she looked. She’d looked tired as she walked away from him twenty minutes earlier, but now, she looked about to drop. Her face had been pale, the skin around her eyes a light gray smudge but now, she was white and sweaty, eyes glassy, the surrounding gray had deepened to dark and foreboding, “we can get a hotel here for the night, if you’d like? I’ll even spring for a good one, my treat.”

Shallow breath in, she exhaled slowly, gathering every bit of strength she could find, before meeting his gaze, “I’d like to go home, please.”

Willing to do anything she asked, he nodded, “then let’s go. I conned the security people to let me park by the doors.”

Never, ever, had she been so happy to see a rental car in her life, to lay the passenger seat back fully, to feel Mulder drape his coat over her, to give one heavy sigh before shutting her eyes, to fall asleep before they hit the freeway.

She didn’t move until he pulled up to her front door, having slept through gas station stops, bathroom breaks, and McDonald’s breakfast sandwiches consumed with surprising gusto. Getting out, he moved to her side of the car, opening the door, coaxing her awake with a soft voice and a gently shake, “hey, Scully, we’re home.”

Feeling like lead, she had trouble comprehending words, turning her head in his direction and groaning lightly, falling back to sleep even as she opened her mouth to form a curt ‘go away’. Several attempts on his part later, she was upstairs, standing in the middle of her living room, wondering where to go next.

He would be worried about her after he got her to bed. Moving her down the hall with hands on arms, he went to turn her right into the bedroom, but she fought him suddenly, turning left towards the bathroom, skidding on the rug as she dropped, kneeling in front of the toilet and letting loose. Stunned, he watched her back arch, knuckles turn white as they gripped the seat, trying to keep herself from tipping over or tipping forward.

What the hell was he doing?

Dropping her bag, he took two strides to get beside her, then another to step over her, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, hand now gently on the back of her neck, “you’re okay.”

The moment he touched her, she said his name, garbled and graveled, using precious moments between puking jags to call to him.

Second round was bad, third had her back cracking from top to bottom. Finally quieting after round four, she settled her head on the toilet seat, Mulder’s leg against her side the only thing keeping her from sliding to the floor. Reaching over her head, he flushed one last time, before twisting, grabbing a washcloth to wet in the bathtub. Wringing it out, he first held it to her nose before, “I need you to sit back or this is never going to stop bleeding.”

She was in some kind of limbo at the moment, hearing words and obeying commands but not comprehending a damn thing. ‘Sit’ sounded familiar so she tilted back, the world skewed sideways as she felt Mulder move her hand to the washcloth with an order to ‘hold’ then felt his hand on her back and legs, scooting her against the wall. Once there, solid surface keeping her upright, more words drifted in but choosing to ignore them, she instead felt him wiping her nose, her sweaty face and neck. The water was warm but it chilled her, tile leeching heat from her, replacing with shiver-inducing cold. Feeling a towel go around her shoulders, then his arm, she assumed clean-up was done and saying his name once more, she passed out against his shoulder.

She drifted back in when she heard his voice echoing, “okay. Thank you.”

‘Hhhmming’ sound in her throat made her presence known and Mulder rubbed her arm, hand drifting up to run a thumb along the edge of her ear, over her temple, “you back?”

Her head was now in his lap, the floor still cold beneath her hip, “what?”

“You checked out for a few minutes so I called the hospital, rustled up somebody we know and asked them if I needed to bring you in.” Thumb now methodically stroking her jawline, “but you’re awake now and Genevieve said that this is a common side-effect and you just need to sleep some more. She also said to call if you were still nauseous and they’d give you something.” Meeting her side-eye staring up at him, “how’s your stomach?”

She had to think about it but, “okay for now. My head hurts and my eyes.” She’d been looking up at him but it hurts, “why do my eyes hurt?”

“You blew a few blood vessels. You look like something out of a sci-fi flick. They got kind of bulgy, too. I’d like to never see that happen again, if it’s okay with you.”

Banter was not cutting it right now. “Can you help me to bed and get me some Tylenol, aspirin, mallet, please?”

He would curb the small talk until later, “yup. Hold on.” It took some maneuvering but soon she was sitting on the edge of the bed, gripping tightly the mattress edge, wondering how long she could keep herself upright.

Not long but as soon as the slither to the ground began, Mulder was back, drugs and water in hand, “whoo, hang on.” Catching her by the upper arms, he kept one hand on her while he gave her the hastily put down and semi-spilled water and pills, “take these and then we’ll get you in some dry clothes. You’re still shivering.”

“Why am I wet?”

While groping for pajamas at the end of the bed, “you sweated right through them. I could have wrung a bucket of water out of you when you were done.”

She would be embarrassed by that later, and handing him back the empty glass, she took a deep breath, “turn around so I can change but don’t go anywhere, okay?”

Doing as asked, he stood against her, back of his thighs against her bent knees, keeping her on the bed as she slowly changed, arms too heavy to hold up for long. Pants were more difficult but she allowed to help with those, Mulder tucked her in bed a few minutes later, her eyes already blinking shut, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“I just see you, Scully, nothing else. The rest is just … it’s just …” he couldn’t get past the sentence at first and voice cracking, “the rest is just sidebar nonsense that you deal with when you love somebody.”

She would have cried had she had the strength but she did manage her final request of the day, “will you come keep me warm?”

Nodding, he found his ‘staying the night’ sweatpants and, blinds closed and drapes drawn, dropping a dark shadow over the room, he slipped in beside her, not wanting to jostle the bed. Reaching towards her, he rubbed her back for a moment, “good night.”

Last ounce of energy, she scooted back a few inches, “meet me in the middle.” Drained by those few inches, Mulder had to do most of the moving but soon, they were together, Scully instantly relaxing into the heat of him. Out in seconds, Mulder felt her drift off and before he followed, he kissed the back of her neck, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Fancy Paper Napkins

because doesn’t everybody eat their fancy meals with fancy paper napkins ...

Our Moments: Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited) Chapter 4: Max 2.0 (post-Tempus Fugit/Max) Chapter 5: Shadowed Grey Eyes Chapter 6: The Warmest Thing I Own Chapter 7: Fancy Paper Napkins @today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

He actually slept, his mind calm, until he heard her whispering in his ear, “what are you cooking and when will it be ready?”

Opening his eyes, he saw hers staring at him, awake and bright, “what?”

“I’m hungry and I saw the crockpot plugged in.”

He broke into a grin, more from her proximity than anything else and forcing himself not to look at her mouth, not to think of that kiss, “mushrooms. Garlicy, buttery mushrooms that have been slow cooking in the crockpot,” looking over her head at the clock, “for four hours.” Sitting up quickly, “shit. I have to go stir them.”

Rolling off the bed, he disappeared down the hall, Scully close behind, “they won’t burn.”

“I’ll feel better when I see for myself.” Finally in the kitchen, he opened the crockpot, stirred with the big spoon, and glad to see the mushrooms soft and unburned, offered Scully a taste. Refusing with an, ‘I’d like to wait for dinner,’ he nodded towards the fridge, “go grab the steak, would you?”

They ate like civilized people, at the kitchen table, forks, knives, fancy paper napkins …

… “I refuse to use cloth ones because they’re too damn hard to clean.”

… “Did I say anything?”

… “No.”

… “Then why are you arguing at me?”

and a bottle of not-so-cheap wine Mulder found in his travels through Scully’s cupboards.

“I shouldn’t drink this.”

“Will it lower your inhibitions? Will you sweep off the coffee table and dance on it if I wave a bunch of ones at you? Will you tell me all your secrets?”

She couldn’t keep her hand from shaking as she poured them both glasses, “mostly I’m thinking that it’ll make me fall asleep even early that I probably would have already.”

Ignoring the tremor, “as long as you stay awake enough for ice cream.”

“I will do my best.”

She made it through half the steak, a bowl of mushroom, and three spoons of mashed potatoes, before finally giving in, trading her plate for Mulder’s empty, who continued to eat without pause. Watching him, she had to smile, “thank you.”

“For finishing your food? No problem.”

Not able to articulate at that particular moment that she was actually thanking him for a thousand things at once, she simply agreed, wondering if he’d figure it out on his own, “yeah, I wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

Giving her a grin, he finished her food, then stood, “give me ten minutes to do dishes and put everything away, then we’ll argue about movies.”

“Let me load the dishwasher, at least. You won’t do it right and I’ll just have to redo it when you’re not looking.” Standing as well, she bumped hips with him as she walked past, “save me the trouble.”

Twisting up his leg, he hit her on the butt with his stocking foot, “smartass.”

They finally settled on several movies but still sitting on the couch, facing a blank TV and a window with a sunset just beginning to tint the room pink, Mulder gently poked her in the side, “how’re you doing?”

Feeling the urge to move, to take advantage of feeling okay for the moment, “I think I’d like to go for a walk.”

Up immediately, he leaned in, kissing the tip of her nose, “any destination in mind?”

“Just … around.”

“Around it is.”

&&&&&&&&&

Warm enough to wander without jackets, they headed out her front door and turned left, bare arm brushing bare arm as they walked. They didn’t say much, commenting on scurrying squirrels here, a cute cat in the window there, Mulder catching a waywardly stumbling child tripping past, “geez, if I had known we were going to be experiencing a Norman Rockwell painting, I would have combed my hair and put on a clean shirt.”

Her laughter hit his ears like his favorite song and reaching over, he took her hand, never asking, never letting go as they circled and turned, ambled and veered. She didn’t argue, her thin, cool fingers enjoying his warmth.

But even on her best days lately, she gave in quicker than she’d have liked, 45 being the magic number of minutes she lasted until, “I think I’m ready for some ice cream.”

Giving her hand a squeeze, “ice cream it is. What kind should we start with?”

Discussion ensued and by the time they were in their pajamas, they’d settled on dark fudge and peanut butter swirl to begin with. Two spoons dove in, two spoons sampled, occasionally Scully would pull her loaded spoon out and looking at Mulder, found his mouth wide open, waiting expectantly.

And by God, she fed him.

The first time felt a little weird but by the third time he did it, she was laughing, “can you not feed yourself fast enough?”

“Nope.”

That was good enough for her.

Once the gorging finished, they’d had at least one spoonful out of each carton Mulder had bought, six in all, the flavors running the gambit and Scully full and happy and sleepy. “Are you going to be able to sleep with all that sugar in your system?”

Mulder grinned, chocolate rimming his lips, “if not, I’ll have a TV to keep me company while you drool all over your pillow.” A relieved sigh, one she didn’t know she was holding, escaped, and Mulder cocked his head, suddenly worried, “y’a’right?”?”

And deciding there was no reason not to tell him, “I think I was nervous you were going to go home tonight and,” another sigh, this one embarrassed, “it’s been a really nice day and if you went home, it would be over and,” slight wobbly smile appearing, “I don’t want it to be over just yet.”

Knowing something funny was in order, he raised an eyebrow in her direction, “is that some veiled attempt at asking me to move in here?”

Her smile steadied, “just go start the movie.”

&&&&&&&&&

Midnight rolled around and even though Scully had given in and gone to bed, Mulder was still awake and indeed watching TV, some cooking show he’d never admit to enjoying but enjoyed nonetheless. The sound was off and suddenly, the quiet of the darkened apartment was broken by Scully calling from the bedroom, “Mulder?”

It didn’t sound like a nightmare which, in his mind, could only mean she needed help. Jogging down the hall, he was in her doorway a second later, “yeah? You okay?”

Still laying down, she met his nervous gaze, her own a unique brand of terrified confusion, “am I still here?”

Immediately walking to the other side of the bed, he crawled under the covers, his hand meeting her cheek after she rolled over to face him, “yeah. You’re right here, in your bed.” When her terror didn’t fade, he continued, quieter, moving to meet her forehead with his, “you’re with me, in your apartment,” hand moving to the back of her neck, “whatever you dreamt wasn’t real.”

“It will be.” Feeling the bed shake as she hitched a silent sob, she managed a cracked whisper, “I don’t want to die.” Her fingers ran over his cheek, his ear, “I don’t want to go anywhere without you.”

The tear escaped before he could blink it away but he kept the others in, reservoir full but holding, “we’re gonna beat this. I guarantee it.”

She couldn’t bring herself to believe him anymore and she couldn’t keep up the lie at this hour, “you don’t know that.”

“But I choose to believe it.” Hand in her hair by now, he pulled her close enough that their noses were smushed together and eyelashes tangled, “I need to believe it.”

Maybe she could pretend a little more after all, “do you believe enough for both of us?”

“I believe enough for this whole damn world. You should know that by now.”

She could only nod against him, bringing their mouths to millimeter distances but refraining, crippling fear not a good enough reason to cross the line between them, “can you stay right here with me, tonight?”

He crossed it for them, a quick brush of lips, a quick nuzzle of noses, “I won’t move until you do.”

“I don’t want you to leave me alone.”

Both knew the translation of that:

I don’t want to die alone.

&&&&&&&&

The next morning, Scully opened her eyes to find Mulder still sharing her pillow, not touching anymore but close enough to have him blurry in front of her instead of clear. For five seconds, she forgot her world and felt warm fuzzies chasing through her, up and down her spine, settling low.

Then, reality set in with a resounding thud.

Pulling back, she sat up, turning quickly so he wouldn’t see the tears racing down her face. Neither could ignore the echoing sob, however and Mulder, already half-awake, sat up, confusion clearing in a heartbeat as he slid across the mattress, arm around her front, hugging her back to his chest. Kissing her neck and that hated, fucking scar, “we’re gonna win. I swear to God, we’re gonna win.”

And they cried together.

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Interim

set somewhere around Unrequited, that interim time when fighting fear in the daylight is one thing but battling it alone in the dark is another ...

Our Moment Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited)

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

It had been a longer case than normal, draining in every sense of the word: physically, mentally and emotionally, but they were almost there, he could feel it. Finally seeing a connection, everybody moved, organized chaos, Mulder and Scully amongst the throng of officers storming the building, guns out, ready for anything.

As with everything they ever did, it wasn’t easy. The suspect ran, hid, fired, threatened, ran again, fired some more, was finally taken down by one of the local cops but there was a foot chase first, that had them all running, searching, wishing his ass would just collapse and die in the middle of the street.

But it was done and sooner rather than later, they were de-briefing in the conference room, getting their paperwork in order. Looking around for Scully, to ask her what his writing said, he saw a glimpse of her back as she disappeared out the door. Usually she would have said something about going so, instead of letting her be, which she probably wished he would, he stood to follow, excusing himself from the talking crowd.

Scanning the front parking lot, he didn’t see her but deciding he might as well enjoy the unseasonable warmth of a Tennessee winter, he turned left, following the sidewalk around the building. Another turn left and he spotted her, sitting on the hood of their rental, facing away, small, hidden by a sea of police vehicles and employee parked Fords and Chryslers. He measurably widened his stride when he noticed her hand held up to her face.

He could see the blood dripping from between her fingers and down onto the pavement. Making it to her side, he pulled out one of several handkerchiefs he’d taken to carrying in his pockets and held it out to her, “take this.”

They had a routine, he helped, she let him.

It wasn’t long before the handkerchief saturated, Mulder touching her shoulder, “I’ll be back in a second with something else.” Seeing her nod, he ran back to the front door, asking calmly for some towels and getting them almost immediately, thanks to the helpful front desk officer and his mad organizational skills. Heading back Scully’s way, he was breathing heavy by the time she took his offering and dropped the soggy handkerchief to the ground. “Is it slowing down any?” Muffled ‘yes’ reached his ears but behind the wadded green towel obscuring half her face, he saw her skin sallow, white and translucent, veins beneath a blue map of fear. Now in front of her, he rested his hands on her thighs, leaning forward to kiss her forehead, smelling the iron tang of blood four inches below his nose, “do you want to go to the hospital?”

“Probably but I’d really rather just lay down for a few minutes, then get some orange juice or something, anything with some sugar in it.”

One last kiss and he pulled away, hand off thigh and up to towel, holding it for her so she could put her arms down, which she was grateful for. Every few seconds he’d move and check, finally finding the flow had slowed to a trickle, then finally stopped all together. Gently wiping away the smears from her chin, “I need maybe another half hour inside, then we can go or I can drop you at the hotel and come back.”

Desperately wanting a bed, she shook her head, “if you could just go find me something to eat, I’ll stay out here and wait for you.”

As he held her elbow, watched her slide from car to ground, “are you sure you don’t want a hospital?”

“I really don’t but thank you.”

“Fair enough.” Soon, she was settled in her seat, tilted back, coat near in case she got cold, “I’ll be back in a few. Don’t go anywhere.”

Eyes already shutting, “I won’t.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Tossing out the browning handkerchief, he carrying the clean towel he still had back to the station, having left the other with Scully. Handing it back to the officer, “thank you. I think we’ll need to keep the other one so if you’ll let me know what I owe you for it, I’d appreciate it.”

Shaking his head, “they’re just shop towels. We have boxes of them in the back.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you need any help out there? Something happen with your car?”

Another shake of his head, “no, we’re fine but thanks.”

Mulder then headed back towards the room of officers, finding the meeting over and the chief watching him approach, “everything all right? I saw your partner go, then you.”

Needing to be blunt because she wouldn’t be back in to help them finish, “I’d like to keep this quiet but Agent Scully has a medical condition that caused severe nosebleeds and she felt one coming on so she left. She’s out in the car now and I need to get her some juice first, then I’ll be back to finish up our end of the paperwork.”

Everyone had been cooperative, treating them well and even now, instead of irritation, the chief showed genuine concern, “is she alright now? Do you need to take her to the hospital?”

Looking around quickly, “she actually has cancer and the most the hospital could do would give her some juice and remind her that this kind of thing will happen.”

The chief liked the pair of them and crossing his arms, attentive, “is she getting treatment?”

Mulder really didn’t want to talk about this anymore, his mind divided between juice, Scully, paperwork, and Scully, “she is but with her type of tumor, surgery isn’t an option and the treatments aren’t doing much.” Needing to extract himself before he began sobbing in the large man’s arms, he inhaled slowly, “but we deal with it. Do you have anything I can take out for her?”

Having lost his wife to cancer several years ago, the chief recognized the look in Mulder’s eyes and knowing to end the conversation, he nodded, “come with me.”

Soon, Scully had her juice and crackers, Mulder returning inside yet again, this time determined to finish everything in under 30 minutes. As he watched Scully drink, he could see her color wasn’t returning as quickly as it should and the vacant look in her eye told him to hurry the hell up.

Thirty-four minutes later, he was shaking hands with the chief, accepting the man’s ‘good luck and God bless’ before leaving for the last time, opening the driver side door and driving off, his partner asleep in the seat beside him and even though he would never tell a soul, he actually checked to make sure she was breathing before anything else.

That action would haunt his sleepless nights for weeks to come.

She stirred once the car hit a pothole and looking up at his, blinking, “are you done?”

“Yeah. I’m going to pick us up some food first, then I’ll get you home.”

“I’d like a cheeseburger, if possible.”

Bag of food in hand 10 minutes later, Scully was nearly asleep again by the time they got to the hotel. Getting out of the car, she stumbled her way directly to her door, leaving behind bag, coat, shoes, and food. Smiling as he gathered their things, he followed her through her still open room door, shutting it with his foot, “do you want to change first or eat?”

“Eat, please.” Holding her hand out, “sorry. I didn’t even think to grab the bag. I just thought door and bed.”

“I’m keeping track. Once you get better, you’ll be my slave for a few weeks and we’ll call it even.” Saying it with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he handed her a napkin, “you’re gonna need this.”

Dinner was quick, inhaled more than chewed, Scully unfocused as she chewed, her body exhausted, her mind slow enough to allow sleep if she could just lay down. Halfway through her second burger, she suddenly put it down, “I need to go to sleep.” Mulder tossed her the pajamas from the top of her luggage and after quick changing in the bathroom, door open, who cared, she crawled under the covers, apologizing as she went, “I’m sorry. I just … I need to lay down.”

“It’s fine.” Continuing to eat at the small table, “I’ll clean this up when I’m done and go back to my room but I’d like to leave the door between us open, if that’s all right? If you need anything, you can just yell for me.”

She was already halfway to dreaming but pretty sure she mumbled ‘okay’, she stopped caring, her muscles relaxing, finally, horizontal so much better than vertical.

Good to his word, he ate, cleaned up, covered her better with her blankets, kissed her twice on the forehead, then disappeared next door, opening the door between their rooms enough to hear her but not enough to disturb with the light of the TV.

&&&&&&&&&&

Her clock read 11:52pm when she woke up. Groggy math concluded she’d been asleep for about five hours and rolling over, she saw the adjoining door open as promised, faint light fluttering from some late-night B-movie Sci-Fi flick no doubt. She tried to go back to sleep, but a restlessness had settled, her mind beginning to churn with thoughts she didn’t want and emotions she didn’t need. Another glance at the clock told her she’d killed six minutes.

God-dammit.

Standing, she shuffled her way over to the adjoining door, pulling her side open more, then slowly pushing his, standing for a moment, watching him read the book propped on his vee’d knees. Leaning on the frame, bringing back a rush of memories from their first night together, years ago, running request submitted and denied in the middle of the Oregon wilderness, she cleared her throat, causing him to turn in her direction but not startle, which she would question at another time. Once he’d focused in on her in the darkness, she asked quietly, “want to go for a drive?”

He was having the same flashbacks and tilting his head at her, “you okay?”

“Can we just … I want to get out of here for awhile … ignore my brain …” head now against the frame, “I woke up and now … … … yeah.”

Tossing his book to one side, he stood, grabbing his wallet and keys, “let’s go.”

She loved that he didn’t ask anything, didn’t inquire, didn’t turn loose his psychology degree on her midnight suggestions, but instead, reached for her back and held the door.

“Any destination in mind?”

Settling into the passenger seat, shoes off, feet tucked under her, crisscross style, “anywhere but here.”

“Midnight wandering. Excellent.”

They drove in their typical silence, comfortable, comforting, depending on Scully’s frame of mind, for almost ten minutes before Mulder reached over, tapping her thigh, “how’s your head?”

“Attached.” Eyeing his hand, now dangling over the console, fingers still easily within tapping range, “nose is stuffy but the taste in the back of my throat is gone, so that’s something.”

Finger against her again, this time fingernail catching on the fuzzies of her flannel pants, “you scared me. A lot.”

Left hand shifting so she could stoke his knuckles, weaving in and around them in soft, satin fashion, “I’m sorry. I was doing fine. I felt fine until it just … happened.”

Hand finally moved enough to squeeze her knee, both shocked at his action and both wanting him to stay, “just … don’t do it again, okay?” Now he slid his hand over to wedge in at the bend behind her knee, “fingers are cold.”

They were most definitely not cold.

Another five in quiet, Mulder shifting to get more comfortable, left hand lightly on the wheel, right hand firmly on her and she returned to his knuckles, ventured to that little round nubbin’ bone in his wrist at times, until, “what will I have to do while I’m your slave? Are you going to make me clean your bathroom and feed your fish? Or will it be more of a Princess Leia thing? Gold bikini, ball and chain, looking hot in the corner when your friends come over?”

How he didn’t crash, he would never know, “do you own a gold bikini?”

“Like I’m going to answer that.”

Genuine grin out the windshield, “I think it’ll be more that I’ll make you watch movies with me and go play miniature golf and maybe, just maybe, I’ll force you to go to dinner with me.”

“Oh, the perils of slavedom in Mulderworld.” Resting her head back against the seat, “huh. Did you realize,” reaching her hand to the ceiling, pushing a panel back, “that we have a moonroof.”

Quick glance up, “I did not. I wonder if I paid extra for that.”

“The Bureau may have and I’m okay with that.” Studying the sky above, “I’m thinking that we should find a nice, quiet sideroad and turn the car off and open this up and see what there is to see.”

Giving her leg another squeeze, “I believe when I was sixteen, that was the line I used to get to second base.”

“I’ve always enjoyed baseball.”

He looked at her, face turned up still, smile faint but there, “how can you still shock me after all this time?”

“I’m amazing.”

Finding the sideroad and turning, “I’ve known that since the beginning.”

Her smile grew wider as he turned off the car, “you were weird at the beginning but intriguing enough to keep around.” Finally looking at him, “and I guess I’d use the word amazing … at times.”

Restarting the car just to get the roof open, he turned it off again, the sounds of night filling the car, “I’d like to talk about baseball again.”

Now she laughed, putting her seat back, “talk to me about the stars.”

Hating to do it, he removed his hand from her and matched her tilt back, scooting a little to the right so his head was near hanging off the rest, pretense of seeing out the roof better and all. She did the same and soon their forehead were almost touching, shoulders were. His hand missed her so it went searching again, this time finding her upper thigh, resting lightly, not allowing gravity to work in his favor, to pull him closer to third-base territory, “what do you want to hear about them?”

“Everything. Nothing. I just like to hear you talk, especially in the dark.”

Wondering if confessions were the name of the game tonight, “Sam once told me that she made a wish on every star, not just the shooting ones.”

“That’s an awful lot of wishes for an 8-year-old.”

“She had a lot of time on her hands apparently.”

Turning her head so she could kiss his nose, she returned to her side of the car quickly, “I wish I had that kind of time. I don’t think we’ve stopped long enough to have an actual conversation in months.”

Finally connecting his forehead to hers, “is that why we’re out here talking about stars?”

“Possibly.” Silence reigned again until Scully’s hand shot up, “shooting star!”

“Make your wish.”

Once she’d squinched her eyes shut, made her plea to the starry gods, she said, absently, into the shadows, “I know it won’t come true but I don’t think it hurts to ask.”

Twisting to his right side to face her, switching hands on her leg, quiet cursing that the console separating them dared to exist, “it never hurts to ask. I’ve been screaming the same wish for months. Someone’s bound to answer me, if for nothing else, just to shut me up.”

If she looked at him, in this instant, in this universe, she would fall apart, cracked pieces in his hands with no hope of re-assembly. Keeping her eyes on the sky, “my favorite constellation is the Southern Cross. You can only see in in the southern hemisphere but one day, I’m going to go to Australia and I’m going to sit there, on a beach, all night long, just to stare at it.”

“Whirlwind world tour?”

“I’d like that. I’ve got six other continents to see. Might have to start as soon as I can.”

“If I offer to provide breakfast and lunch, can I come?”

He watched her nod and smile in the starlight, “I never thought you wouldn’t.”  Catching his gaze at her out the corner of her eye, “you’re not looking at the stars anymore, Mr. Mulder.”

“I’ve got a better view down here on Earth, Miss Scully.”

Shaking her head, “the things you say sometimes.”

“Hey, I’ve slept in your bed. I’m allowed to call you ‘pretty’.”

Shifting to face him instead of the stars, she wondered if she dare share how much those nights still sat in the forefront of her mind, first before her diagnosis and second after he’d driven her home, taken care of her as she was sick, kept her warm as she came off her first round of chemo, “twice, actually, I’ve let you sleep in my bed.”

Moving his hand from her leg to run along her hairline, brief stop to rest his palm over her neck, “I think, someday, we should do that again, have a sleepover of epic proportions: scary movies, ice cream, pizza, and pillow fights. What do you say?”

Instead of the smile he’d been hoping for, he watched her face tighten, forehead wrinkle, nose flare, then contort back to normal Scully, just as her eyes filled with tears, which began falling immediately, “I’m scared.”

Sliding himself forward, hand still on her, he tugged gently at her neck until she moved towards him, “come here.” Meeting her lips for a brief moment, he went back in for another before resting forehead against hers, “I’m scared enough for both of us so maybe we should take turns. I’ll be scared Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and you can do Tuesday and Thursday.”

Wanting another kiss, she remained still, “what about the weekends?”

“We can share those. We’ll stay at your place one weekend then at mine the next. We’ll deal with it together. How’s that sound?”

Still crying, she almost laughed at the depth of the burden of solitude she didn’t know she carried until Mulder offered to carry it with her. Desperation nearly moved her to his mouth again but fighting it, she let out a wet, crackling sob before sighing, “thank you.”

“You’re not alone, I promise.”

Another shuddering breath out, she forced herself to back up, return to her own space, but found she couldn’t get far, Mulder’s hand still firmly on her neck, “Mulder.”

“I think we should talk about baseball again.”

Shutting her eyes against his searching look, she ignored the sudden tingling up her spine, “my head’s a mess right now. I don’t think I could separate ‘baseball’ from fear and I don’t want to ruin … it can’t be done like this. I’m sorry.”

She felt him pull away, then kiss her forehead lightly, talking into her skin, “you’ve got a dirty mind. I just wanted to discuss this year’s lineup for the Sox.”

Finally, she did laugh, gently bumping into his head with hers, “I’m more of a Cubs fan myself but talk away.”

“The Cubs? Really? What the hell is wrong with you?”

As they both separated, settled back into their own seats, Mulder’s hand back on her leg, “to be fair, that’s the first team I thought of.”

“Thank God. I thought I was going to have to rescind everything I just promised you. Although now, our Sunday fear sharing is going to be filled with baseball games, both live and from my couch.”

“I’d like that.” Silence between them filled with crickets chirping and frogs croaking, Scully reached down her leg to find his hand, lacing fingers together, pulling his knuckles to her mouth to kiss them, one by one, before, “I’d like that a lot and by the way, pretty sure you already rounded first.”

“Ahh, yes,” grinning upwards, “yes, I did.”

“Mulder.”

Her voice pulled him back from his amusement, “yeah?”

“I’m finally tired.”

With a chuckle, he looked over at her, “ready to go back?”

“No, but we probably should or we just sleep out here tonight and pray we don’t get eaten by bears or overzealous hunters.”

Mulder snapped his seat back up, “home it is.” It took twice as long to find the hotel because Mulder hadn’t paid attention as he was driving but eventually, they found their home away from home. Both were sleepy at this point and once inside Mulder’s room, Scully headed, heavy-lidded, to the adjoining door but stopped when Mulder spoke, “thanks for asking me to go for a drive.”

“Thanks for driving me.” Knuckling a knock on the door frame where she’d been leaning a few hours earlier, “it’s Friday now, right?”

“Yeah. My day to worry. Now go to bed before you fall down.”

With a nod and a smile, she disappeared into the darkness.

[tatooedlaura-blog]

The Warmest Thing I Own

Feeling good enough for the time being to attempt herding Mulder in a grocery store ... 

Our Moments: Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited) Chapter 4: Max 2.0 (post-Tempus Fugit/Max) Chapter 5: Shadowed Grey Eyes Chapter 6: The Warmest Thing I Own @today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

The following morning, she woke him up, stretching beside him, humming as her muscles flexed and moved, liquid twist of spine and limb. He felt her and opened his eyes, finding the room grey but light, “what time is it?”

Her voice scratched out an, ‘I don’t care’ before burying her head back in the pillow.

“Are we not caring today? ‘Cause I can get behind not caring today.” Reaching out to poke her side, “how are you feeling?”

Rolling in his direction, she gave him a smile that could have lit the city had she come with plug and adaptor, “I actually feel okay. I don’t think I’ve slept like that in weeks.”

“No nightmares?”

“No. Only dreams of farmhouses and men in kilts.”

Mulder laughed, “more than one?”

“Maybe.” Sighing deep, “it’s Saturday, right? Now, I know we’d normally share the worry today but I think I’d rather ignore it completely and go grocery shopping and maybe make dinner and eat a gallon of ice cream.”

“It’s actually Friday but I’m good with all that anyway.” Finally able to see the clock on her nightstand, “it’s 8:27 so I vote you call Skinner while I go shower, then we commence.”

Booping his nose, “you’ve got five minutes or I’m coming in.”

Good God.

He knew she was joking. Had to be joking. But he found himself washing a little slower than usual, wanted to see what she would do at the five-minute mark.

She stood outside the bathroom door at 4 minute, 45 seconds, hand on knob. She felt giddy and free and happy and relatively well and the thought of opening the door made her stomach tighten but would it be all kinds of stupid?

Five minutes.

She felt her hand turning the damn handle.

Just as Mulder pulled the door open.

She stumbled forward into wet flesh, towel around waist holding fast as Mulder took a step back, catching her in his arms, “hi there.”

Both knew she had been opening the door.

“Hi.”

“Almost didn’t make it.” Eyes sparking down at her, given he now knew she had been opening the door, “damn slow water heater.”

She was red.

It amused him.

“Were you coming in for something?”

Something, at the moment, in her mind, was removing his towel and taking him back into the shower but instead, she pointed around him, “toothbrush.”

His grin made her shake her head, slip under his arm, brush her teeth, and keep taking deep breaths.

They were both crazy.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Grocery shopping with Mulder was akin to herding cats. She looked left at something, he threw three things from the right into the cart. She questioned two of them and winning, turned right to replace them on the shelf while Mulder, pouting, turned left, tossing in two other things, plus a box of Twinkies.

Finally, she threated to make him sit in the cart and while he looked her square in the eye, evaluating life and limb, he reached up, tipping a box of CocoPuffs from the top shelf into the cart, never breaking eye contact.

By the end, they had at least remembered the juice boxes.

Steaks were the order of the day, Mulder waving away her cheap-ass $6.00 on sale frugal fingers in favor of the New York strips, thick, red, mouth-watering, and definitely not $6.00. Mistaking her longing look for hunger, he gently turned her away, “we need to cook them first.”

Swallowing, “I know.”

Mashed potatoes followed, “yes, I’m getting the box of potato flakes because real potatoes are too damn much work.”

“Fine by me.” Then came the three pounds of mushrooms, “who the hell is washing all these dishes?”

Mulder smiled, tossing a bulb of garlic in the cart, “dishwasher. You have one but you never use it. I’ll teach you how tonight.”

She just kept stealing glances at the steaks.

Ice cream came last, small tubs of chocolate, cherry, orange sherbet, mint, dark fudge, and peanut butter swirl, “I like variety. Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m just wondering if either of us will be able to fit through the front door by the time we’re done.”

“You could stand to gain twenty pounds.”

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, bring reality into their fun but glancing at her, he saw understanding in her eyes, her hand finding its way into his for a moment, “I’d rather not do it all in one night, if that’s okay?”

She got a long hug for that, shoppers steering around the odd couple embracing in the freezer section but smiling at them regardless because, really, there’s nothing wrong with a little love in frozen foods.

Mulder paid the bill and Scully didn’t fight it, especially after she saw the amount of items he’d stashed in the basket under her radar, “how did I not see any of this?”

“Once you caught sight of the steaks, I could have jammed an elephant in here and you’d have never noticed.” Handing the cashier his credit card, “little woman’s got an appetite.”

Swatting him on the arm, “Mulder! Did you see how many things of ice cream you got? I don’t know how we’re going to fit all that in the freezer.”

The cashier grinned, handing him his card back, “you can always buy her a bigger freezer.”

“This is very true. Freezer shopping next.”

Scully gave up, “that’ll be tomorrow’s trip. We’ll just have to eat all this tonight.”

“Challenge accepted.”

&&&&&&&&&&&

Back at the apartment, groceries spread from one end of the counter to the other, Scully was mid-ice cream put away when she stopped, hand shaking, head spinning. After a second, she turned to Mulder, his back to her, “I’m, um, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go lay down.” Her hand was already rubbing her forehead, “are you okay putting everything away?”

Turning, his stomach sank at how pasty pale she’d become in the last two minutes, “yeah. I’m fine. Go take a nap.”

She was already moving, one hand on the wall of the hall to steady herself as she headed to the bedroom. Once alone, he slowly, methodically, put the groceries in their proper places, shutting cupboards quietly, trying not to rattle pasta or click jars. Five minutes and a fully stocked kitchen later, he realized it was only a little after one. She’d made it four hours. It had been a good four hours but …

If he dwelled on that, he’d scream at the top of his lungs, cursing the sky, fist shaking in the air. Instead, he pulled the mushrooms back out, deciding some manual cooking labor would keep his mind occupied.

That and trying not to cut the tips of his fingers off.

Three pounds of mushrooms, a stick of butter, six cloves of garlic, a teaspoon of salt, and ½ that of pepper later, and small, diced onion to boot, he set her crockpot to warm, snapped the lid tight, and wondered what next.

Sheets.

Put the sheets in the dryer.

Checking that the stains were gone, he hit the button to set the machine humming.

Clean up.

Last night’s Chinese cartons and chopsticks were still on the coffee table. Trash. Check.

Take out the trash. It smelled. He killed five minutes tying the bag, walking it to the garbage chute. Coming back inside and locking the door.

Then he stood there. Tight circle rotating, trying to find something else.

He knew what he wanted to do but felt he shouldn’t. She was fine. She would yell for him if need be.

Bu something kept pulling him in the direction of her bedroom.

“Fuck it.”

He made his way to her door to find her curled on the bed, small lump under thick covers. Stealing to the other side, he carefully lay down, sliding under the quilt in silence. If she wanted to, she could hit him later for arriving in her bed unannounced.

He would love it if she had the strength to hit him hard enough for it to make an impact.

Then again, she’d hit him before and it never made an impact.

It mostly just made him more stubborn and annoying.

He couldn’t help a small smile as he thought about how irritating he could be but she just kept coming back anyways.

She’d come back from this, too. She had to.

She had no choice.

He could see the tension in her face, even while asleep, forehead wrinkled, eyebrows tight. Reaching out, he began massaging between her eyes, imaging that fucking tumor only an inch below his thumb. How the hell could they not take the damn thing out? It was right there.

Right.

There.

Another thought he had to banish from his mind or screaming would ensue, he kept rubbing, watching her face slowly relax, pinched look disappearing, “mmmhmm.”

Soft sound in the back of her throat told him to keep going, small circles, occasionally venturing to the round bones surrounding her eyes, the bridge of her nose, up to her hairline. Another ‘hhmmmm’ later, then a deep sigh, she rolled to her back, making his task a little harder, arms more awkward in their reach.

Shifting slightly, arm now across her chest, he continued. Feeling himself drifting off, his thumb movements lighter and slower, he felt her turn her head, face him, “Mulder?”

“Hi.” Rolling towards him once again, her hands slipped under his arm and one palm to his face, she moved forward, kissing him. Shocked, he pulled back after a moment, “are you awake or asleep?”

He saw her suddenly blink, head shake, both signs she was just waking up, “what? Mulder?”

Knowing she didn’t recall anything because there was no embarrassment turning her red, no heat in her cheeks, eyes innocently confused, “nothing. You said something and I thought … I just wasn’t sure if you were awake. Go back to sleep.”

Caught in limbo of dreams and Mulder, she didn’t care, and scooted closer, into his arms, “you are the warmest thing I own.” Snuggling into him, about as up close and personal as they could get fully clothed on a Friday afternoon, “I like it.”

She so totally did own him and he would be perfectly fine declaring that by billboard, sky writer, or booming voice from the sky. Lips to her forehead, he left them there as he agreed, “I do, too.”

&&&&&&&&&

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Forgetting

Two in a row, I appear to be on a roll ... this is not for those under 17 and nsfw :)

Sometimes, you need to forget for a little while ...

@today-in-fic

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

It was a stupid retirement gathering at the end of the day, the best way *insert sarcasm here* to end Friday, in Mulder’s opinion. It became especially fun when the assistant director who was doing the retired pointed the pair out, commenting on the Amber Lynn LaPierre case, which he called the crowning achievement in his long and lauded career with the Bureau. Thanking them for their contribution to his legacy, both nodded, smiled, said their polite thank yous while inside, wishing they were literally anywhere but there.

Then came the inevitable discussion about the case, Scully plowing ahead, dealing with most of the comments until Mulder leaned into her, mouth to ear, “I’m going to head to the bathroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Nodding, she continued with her end of the present conversation, then two others before she realized he still wasn’t back. Excusing herself, she slipped quietly out the door. Wondering for a moment if he’d fled the building completely or just the room, she thought, then, for some unknown reason, decided to try the stairwell before heading to the basement. Opening the oft-used door at the end of the hall, a beautiful sunset greeted her as well as a lone Mulder sitting on the first step down, quietly contemplating the world while bathed in pink and purple hues.

Sitting carefully beside him, skirt causing minor issues, “I was beginning to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”

Taking an impossibly deep breath before bumping shoulders with her, “do you think, maybe, this could be one of those nights where we get drunk and forget we work together?”

She’d asked him that exact question for the first and only time roughly four months earlier and with a moment’s hesitation to calculate where the nearest liquor store was, she returned the answered he’d been hoping for, “I think it needs to be one of those nights and you’ve got that liquor store on the corner so I vote your place.”

Bumping her a second time, he stood up, nodding his head in the direction of the stairs, “I think we’ve worked long enough today.”

She stood with just a little help from his hand, tugging her skirt straight, “agreed.”

&&&&&&&&&

She picked up the Long Island, the big pre-mix bottle, third shelf, second aisle, they shopped here a little too often, then headed to Mulder’s. Beating him there by ten minutes, she had time to clear the couch and coffee table of littered papers and hamburger wrappers, empty glasses and several pairs of socks. Smiling at the socks, she then filled the table with bottles of water, the Long Island (opened, aerator insert removed for ease of swilling) and a roll of paper towel because she knew he’d be stopping for Subway and they never sent him home with napkins.

Scully then had time to contemplate the first time they’d mentioned their question out loud. She honestly didn’t want to think about the string of events that led to her request but that night had been Rum and Coke and sitting on his couch, not sure how to start anything until Mulder said something so quiet she had to turn to hear him repeat his statement.

She ran into his mouth and from there, they’d spent a chaste 87 minutes alternating between drinking, making out, water interludes sporadic, straight rum by the end, coke chaser when they remembered until the week’s worth of tension left her shoulders, muscles warm and relaxed, lips swollen, hands never traveling below her neck except to turn her at the waist for a better angle.

Heads thoroughly spinning by the time the pair pulled apart in a mutually silent agreement that it was time, Scully went in for another kiss before looking at him blurrily, enjoying their warm, humid silence which Mulder only broke to ask, “couch or bed? I’ll take whichever you don’t want.”

Smiling at him, she stretched, much like a cat, limbs shaking, back curving, “couch is fine.”

Logistics figured a few minutes later, both were crashed in their respective beds, soundly asleep through the remainder of the night.

Mulder made it home a minute later, returning Scully to present day, and she took the bags of food from him, carrying them to the kitchen while he shed shoes, jacket, button down, leaving him in a crew-neck white t-shirt and mismatched socks. Following her into the kitchen, he grabbed the open bottle from the coffee table as he passed. Swigging deep, he handed it to her, “premix. I appreciate you more and more every day.”

“Why take the time to make it yourself when the Captain has done it for you already?” Seeing the forlorn expression still clear on his face, she turned to look at the counter, measuring up the height before glancing back at him, “help me up here, will you? I’d like to hug you face to face for once.”

Not about to question that request, he popped her up, allowing her time to adjust her skirt before handing her the bottle, “madam.”

Two gulps later, she angled the bottle in his direction, “for the win,” then waved her fingers at him, “come here.”

Obeying, he was in her arms, as close as possibly given counter and thigh restriction from skirt. Holding her had an instant effect on his blood pressure, his psyche, his heart rate and brain function, calm washing over him the longer he touched her. Not enough for him at the moment, however, he scooted her closer to the edge of the counter, skirt hiking up further, her thighs pressing his sides. About to do something about this, Scully did it for him, mouth on his neck, lips against pulse, tongue running lightly over skin. Kissing her way up his neck, across his jaw, she found his mouth, neck twisting for best access and without thought, legs locking around him, ankle hook completing the loop.

He would not be arguing.

Staying there another minute, he decided, given the course of the evening, to take creative license and wrapping arms around her waist, picked her up, moving her to the couch without breaking contact. She snagged the bottle as he moved them past it and knowing he had to set her down because sitting down with her like this would break her ankles and nobody needed that tonight, Scully grinned as she slid to the floor, her skirt staying stuck to her upper thighs. Another three deep swallows from the bottle, she handed it to Mulder, watching his perfectly sculpted throat down five, “next time we come up for air, water break.”

“Agreed.” Sitting right down on the couch, he expected her to drop beside him but instead, she wiggled the skirt a little higher and climbed onto his lap, “last time, I had a crick in my neck. I’m not dealing with that again.”

Hands firmly on her waist, he smiled, “I like your thinking.”

Mouth immediately back on his, he managed to keep his hands to himself until the liquor began buzzing his brain, separating thought from consequence but keeping intact decorum at its most rudimentary, his hands hesitantly shifting four inches above her waist, still above her shirt until Scully pulled back, whispering into his mouth, “I don’t mind.”

He didn’t take full advantage of the situation but the simple feeling of running his hands up and down her back made him feel like he’d just won the lottery, over silk blouse, ridge of bra back, imaginary outline of existing tattoo. Another few minutes and Scully moved away, lips red, cheeks pink, eyes bright as she reached behind her, breasts jutting into Mulder’s face, looking for water. Drinking down half a bottle, she handed the rest to Mulder, “it’s getting warm in here.”

Managing to keep his eyes mostly on hers, “that okay?”

Tossing the empty water bottle behind her, she then took up the Long Island, another two deep pulls before offering it to her partner, “very good.” After he drank, she deposited it back on the table and returned like a magnet to his mouth, her hands now in and through his hair, cradling his ears, thumbs running over temples, hips sliding forward until a minute later, she stood up, “I still have most of my faculties and I’m making a request.” She wavered once as the room tilted ever so slightly, “this skirt is irritating the hell out of me. Would you mind if I take it off?”

With a grin, he fell in love withher all over again, “no, that’s fine.”

“Thanks.” Skirt hitting the floor a moment later, her blouse hung low enough not to reveal anything of interesting importance and settling back on his lap, she nodded at him, “much better.”

“I’m glad.”

This time, when she re-settled, she re-settled closer to him, his obvious arousal at the whole situation not bothering her in the slightest, unknowingly grinding once against him before commencing with their previous activities.

Liquor working its magic, Mulder decided that given she was now in her underwear on his lap, that afforded him hands on ass, which elicited a tandem ‘hhmmmm’ from both and another inch hip-slide forward. Deciding what the hell, he then moved his hands up under her shirt, finding warm skin and bumping backbone, hands callous-rough as they danced over rib and ridge. Feeling her smile, he felt her leave his lips, moving down his chin to his Adam’s Apple, mouthing it several times before following down to his shirt collar, then sitting back, putting welcome pressure on particular parts, “it is only fair that since I have no skirt, you need no shirt.”

He loved that she lost her contractions when she drank. Apostrophes went out the window for some reason, all words spoken precisely and slurry but never contracted. Sitting up immediately, he pulled the offending garment off and dropped it to the couch beside them, “sounds fair indeed.”

Another two mouthfuls of Long Island for both, her hands ran immediately over his chest, her deep breath and stuttered sigh telling him more than words ever could, fingers playing over his nipples, tongue tracing his collarbone. It was when she gripped his sides and smashed herself down on him, favorite parts aligning, that he finally let out a moaning groan, “Scully.”

Whispering in his ear, “was that good?”

“If you’re trying to kill me, yes.”

Sitting back again, she wiggled a few more times, lighter yet oddly, more intense. Quick glance at the clock across the dimly lit room, she looked down at him, his gaze filled with unmistakable adoration, “it has been over an hour, need a break?”

“I will never need a break from you.”

Reaching back, she snagged another water, drinking half again and waiting until Mulder finished it to toss it the way of the first empty. Next, more liquor went down, bottle half gone at this point before, “would you mind if I took the blouse off? This thing holds heat like you would not believe.”

Words gone, head nodded, her shirt landed on the table, sweat glistening above and below white cotton bra but before he could process more than half a reverent look, he had her face pulled back to his, hands sliding down her slowly cooling back and right past the top of her underwear, bare hands on bare ass in under a second.

She did not complain, rocking a rhythm on him that was making him see stars.

Everything was logical to them up to this point. The logic of six years and half a bottle of Long Island Ice Tea but whatever and Mulder’s next suggestion followed their logical pursuit. It took a few minutes to form the idea, then the sentence, but pulling away from her mouth, whimpering either internally or for the world to hear, he had to share it with her, “um, so as much as I am loving this, there are parts of me that are dying because they are trapped, wonderfully so but still friction-ly, and are … shit, Scully, the zipper of my pants is about to cause some damage.”

“Hell. Okay.” She stood immediately and hips still moving in some sort of fluid motion which could very well hold Mulder’s attention until the end of time, he took advantage and lifting his butt, soon was sitting there in boxers, happy for relief and unembarrassed by his obvious reaction to her.

She admired for a moment, then settled right back on him, body pressed firmly against all available Mulder.

His hands moved to her hips, moving her against him, the rhythm of his mouth getting erratic as all attention moved elsewhere. Scully was having her own amount of trouble holding focus and when his hands moved to unclasp her bra, she could have sang the Halleluiah chorus had she thought to leave his lips.

Needing a final pull of liquor before anything else, she sat back on his thighs, three mouthful going down her throat first, then Mulder took four, capping the bottle and dropping it to the floor before his mouth moved not to hers again but to her breasts, taking in his dreamt of mouthful, other hand filled with other breast as Scully shut her eyes, shifting and sliding against him, parts finally making solid contact and she stood suddenly, swaying as she shed her last piece of clothing, then demanded Mulder’s boxers with a silent outstretched hand and begging eyes. Obliging, she was back on him,  wetter than wet, rubbing hard head against aching clit, then, she slid back and forth against him, Mulder’s mouth latched back to her breast and his hands carrying her forward and back. Letting go of her, he told her, alcohol slur evident, “I am so close to that spot, Scully. Another inch and we could … just … we could.”

Leaning forward, she slipped her teeth around his earlobe, tugging lightly before sucking for a moment, then whispering, “there cannot be liquor involved when that happens. Sorry.”

There was absolutely no reason for her to apologize and he told her as such, “but can something else happen because unless you stop moving, it’s going to anyways and I’d rather have permission to do so.”

His strained voice made her grin and sitting back once again, she ran one hand down her belly and bracing with the other against his knee, she began rubbing her clit, “oh, I am good with everything else.”

Needing to ask one last time, “do you need any more Tea?”

“I have not got time for that now.” And she rubbed a little faster.

Wrapping his hand around himself, their knuckles kept bumping until they found a matched rhythm and as her muscles clenched and her head dropped back, he came as well, all over himself and her, not caring about anything in the moment but his Scully.

Then their combined mess along with the sweat generated by the last hour and a half suddenly got the better of his ass’s grip on the couch. She moved slightly, he shot forward, feet unable to catch him, and both, for a fleeting moment, wondered if there was an earthquake as they slid to the ground, Scully’s back sliding against the coffee table edge, Mulder’s bare butt landing on a crackling water bottle.

He managed to get an arm around her though, so she didn’t hit the floor at the worst angle ever and ‘sluggish but still there’ reflexes on her part had her move enough not to break his dick, softening but still hard enough to cause some trouble had it been bent sideways under her drunken weight.

Both then sat there in silence, until, of course, the giggles set in.

It took a good five minutes to get things under control and not set the other off with a simple look. Scully, now wrapped in one of Mulder’s many blankets, looked from the ¾ empty Long Island bottle to the water in her hand, “can I stay here tonight?”

Also in a blanket, and equally worried about the amount they’d consumed, he opened two more bottles of water for them, the world beginning to tilt again, “like I’d let you drive anywhere after that much Captain.”

Looking over at him, grin wide as she missed her mouth with the water bottle on the first try but making it the second, she swallowed half before speaking, “for a minute there, I actually did forget we worked together.”

“Me, too.”

Shifting up to give him a kiss on the cheek, she swayed into him, forgetting how to sit back upright momentarily, “now, if you would be so kind as to find me a pillow and another blanket, I am going to go clean up, then come back here and go to bed because if I do not lay down very soon, I am going to tip over even more than I am now.”

Contractions still gone, he knew she wasn’t kidding about the tipping thing, the alcohol coursing through her veins would have her asleep in seconds and sporting one hell of a headache tomorrow. Carefully standing, he got her up and to the bathroom, blanket firmly in place and then, collecting some pajama pants and a t-shirt for her, he handed them through the partially open door, ignoring the sounds of her peeing, then the water running.

Seriously, how many times could he fall in love in one evening?

Soon, she was back, curled on the couch, Oscar the Grouch shirt in place, blankets piled high, head deep in down pillow. Beckoning him to her level with her finger, he had to kneel, knowing if he leaned, he’d fall, “what’s up?”

“I love you, Mulder. You are my best friend and I love you.”

Kissing her forehead, he struggled to stand back up, “I love you and you are my best friend, too.” Pointing to the table, “I left you an empty pot so if you puke, do it in that, please, all right?”

“Do not forget one for yourself.”

Holding up his own, “got it. G’night.”

She was already asleep.

He would dream well tonight.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Since the curtains and blinds were closed, the light didn’t wake either of them until late afternoon. Scully was up before Mulder and after downing several glasses of water and what felt like a handful of aspirin, she opened her forgotten Subway, settling with it on the couch, remote in hand.

Mulde wandered out a few minutes later and stared at her for a moment, then retrieved his sandwich as well, grabbing the bottle of aspirin before sitting down beside her, tugging half her blanket over his knees, “hi.”

“Hi.”

“What are we watching?”

“The Flintstones.”

Giving her wild hair and dark hickey on her neck a good, long look, he aimed a grin at her, “mind if I join you?”

Taking in a matching bruise on Mulder’s neck and his dancing eyes, “your couch.”

Settling in a little better, he unwrapped his roast beef on white, “so, honest answer, please. Should we be embarrassed or anything about last night?”

Scully thought while she chewed, then smiling crookedly, “the only thing I’m embarrassed about is having ended up on the floor.” Looking at him critically, “what about you? Honest answer.”

“Mostly I’m unnerved by how much my ass was sweating, in all seriousness.” Taking his first bite, he felt calmer than he had in forever, “want to stay over again tonight?”

“Sure. I hadn’t planned on leaving this couch until tomorrow at the earliest.”

“Mexican for dinner?”

“As long as they deliver.”

“They do.”

Mid-chew, she leaned over and kissed his t-shirted shoulder, “yay.”