Had a post cross my dash this evening that made me think of this one. An oldie but (hopefully) goodie. Sunday night smut.
Red Letter Day (read on AO3).
Explicit. MSR. Humor. Post-Fight the Future. Pre-Season 6. Absolutely no redeeming value. Originally published summer of 1998.
Summary: Mulder discovers the hidden benefits of Scully's PMS.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
If I was anywhere near the crack genius most people seem to
think I am, I would have taken the time to check my calendar
before I ever opened my mouth.
News flash: Dana Scully is hell on wheels the two or three days
prior to the monthly visit from her "friend."
That's how she refers to her period: as her friend. If I had a
friend that made me psychotic on a regular basis, I'd definitely
be looking around for a new one. And you'd think a well-
educated doctor could come up with a term a little more clinical
than that.
Whatever.
There we were in our brand-spanking-new office (which I hate
with a passion that knows no bounds because it’s bare and lacks the
charm it had before the fire), knee-deep in cardboard boxes filled
with freshly printed copies of all the X files Scully and I'd had the
good sense to save on disk and stash at home.
We'd spent the better part of the previous weekend at the offices
of the Gunmen, shooting the shit while the boys' printer
got a workout. Call me paranoid, but I have no definitive proof
that the printers at the Bureau aren't out to get me.
Note to self: send Byers a decent bottle of scotch, the collected
works of Korn to Langly, and a copy of Alien Probe to Frohike.
Scully was cross-legged on the floor, stuffing papers into candy-
striped file folders and consulting a list of case numbers,
checking off each one as it was compiled. I'd made the mistake
of volunteering to put said folders into some kind of order once
she was done with them. And that's where we ran into trouble.
You see, Scully's idea of a filing system is way out of line with
mine. I've always grouped files by phenomenon; Scully prefers
to do it by case number. Consequently, our old file cabinets in
our office (may its previous flotsam and jetsam rest in peace) were not exactly what one might call organized. That sort of thing doesn't
faze me too much, but it makes her crazy. Had I bothered
to note the date, I would have known not to cross her when she
questioned me about it.
Live and learn.
"You're doing those by case number, right?"
I wasn't really paying much attention to her question. I had my
back turned to her and had gotten lost in the last file she'd
handed me, mourning anew the untimely, bizarre death of Clyde
Bruckman and his equally bizarre take on my own demise. I
made a noncommittal noise in reply.
"Mulder? You're filing those by case number?"
Her question finally registered. "Uh, no. Should I be?"
I flinched at the stinging slap of her hand hitting the hard surface
of the floor. "Dammit, Mulder, I thought we agreed to do it by
case number."
My radar went active and the alarms started going off. I had no
idea why she'd flown off the handle so quickly, but I was pretty
sure I was about to find out.
"We did?" I was being careful, buying myself some time to try to
figure out what was going on. I turned and gave her my most
guileless face as I got busy trying to recall what I might have
done recently to piss her off. Hard as it may be to believe, I
came up empty.
She gave me a long, icy look and gritted through her teeth,
"Yes, we did. The last time you were at my apartment, as a
matter of fact. Don't you remember?"
Okay, that was an easy one. I knew the right (read: best) answer
and spit it out gratefully. "I'm sorry, Scully. My head must have
been somewhere else."
So far so good. My excuse was legit. Especially if you take into
account that the last time I'd been at her place, sex had
been the only thing on our minds. And I've discovered that
Scully gets very talkative afterwards, while I tend to zone out
during my usual post-coital return to all my favorite places on
her body. I'd much rather nuzzle the underside of her breasts or
the curve of her ass than discuss the best way to organize our
file cabinets. So I let her ramble on and she lets me poke
and nibble. It's generally an equitable trade and, to be perfectly
honest, I'd always figured she was paying as little attention to
what I was doing as I was to what she was saying.
But like I said, live and learn. Because my smartass mouth then
overrode my common sense. "Now that I think about it," I
elaborated before I could stop myself, bending low and whispering.
"I'm pretty sure it was between your legs."
"Jesus Christ, Mulder, is that all you think about? We have work
to do here."
"I'm working. See?" I waved a hand at the open file cabinets and
the rows of folders tucked inside.
"No, you're not. You're thinking about your head being between
my legs. No wonder you can't file anything properly."
Obviously she wasn’t as concerned as me about the office being
bugged.
I fought to tamp down my sudden flash of anger. What the hell
was her problem? "Just because I'm not doing it the way you
want me to, Scully, doesn't mean it's not being done properly."
"Whatever," she shot back. "Just do it however the hell you want
to. You always do anyway."
Bitch.
While part of me was slowly realizing there might've been
something more to her outburst than just my ill-timed comment,
the rest of me couldn't have cared less. I found myself glaring at
her. She glared right back.
"Fine," I snapped, swinging back around and yanking all the
neatly filed folders out of the cabinets and slapping them down
on top. "I'll do it your way."
That seemed to do the trick, because she got very quiet after
that. At least she didn't gloat over her small victory. I kept up a
steady stream of silent curses as I worked to re-file everything
by case number. I was almost through the first pile when she
began muttering under her breath.
Without turning around I asked, "Is there something you'd like to
share with the class?"
"I knew this was gonna happen," she announced.
That's all it took to suck me right back into the game. "Knew
what was gonna happen?" I turned just as she was getting to her
feet.
"This," she said. "This problem you seem to have staying on
task. I knew as soon as we started… you know… you'd have
trouble separating that part from the work. Honestly,
Mulder. I'm trying to get some work done and all you can think
about is going down on me."
All this blurted out with her arms folded defensively across her
chest and that holier-than-thou tone of voice. I opened my
mouth to let loose with some retort and snapped it shut again as
soon as I got a really good look at her face. Her flushed face.
The high color and the sparkling eyes that spoke not just of
anger, but of what I'd come to recognize as arousal.
It dawned on me in that moment that Scully was as horny as she
was angry. Maybe even more so.
It took all my considerable self-control to keep the smile off my
face. I took a step toward her and said, "I hate to point out the
obvious, but you're the one who keeps bringing it up. I was just
making a joke. You're the one who can't stop talking about it."
"And just what are you implying?" Her eyes danced fire as she
glared up at me.
I've found that sometimes my silence can say more than words
ever could. This was one of those moments. I watched her face
change as she realized that I had more than a clue what was
going on.
"Oh, I don't fucking believe this," she muttered, turning away and
grabbing her trench coat from the chair she'd draped it over. "I'm
going home. I'm not going to stand around here and watch your
head explode from your over-inflated ego." She stomped to the
door and flung it open, struggling comically to get her arms in
the sleeves of her coat. "Good-bye, Mulder. I will see you in the
morning."
I spent the next few minutes smothering my laughter and then
dug out my pocket calendar, settling into a chair as I confirmed
my suspicions.
It was probably four years ago when I started keeping track of
Scully's menstrual cycles. At first, I'd just been marking down
the days when she seemed to possess a shorter fuse than
normal. After about three months, a definite pattern had
emerged. I'd been able to pinpoint the days that marked the
actual start of her period because she'd invariably complain of
lower back pain and be popping Advil throughout the day. Once
those events occurred, I knew I was safe for another month or
so. It was the two or three days prior to that when I had to be
careful.
Those were the days when Scully would act as though she'd just
as soon shoot me as look at me. Or speak to me. Or have
anything to do with me. Those were the days when we both
would find any excuse to avoid being in close contact. She
would take off for a long weekend or a symposium at Quantico
or, if neither of those were possible, I would grudgingly offer my
temporary services to BSU. If we happened to be in the field or
out of town on a case, we'd come up with ways to work
separately. Since there was almost always a corpse or two that
needed slicing and dicing, it was never much of a problem.
All this time I'd been thinking that she just had less patience
with me those few days than at other times-a result of
hormones gone wild. It never once occurred to me that she
might've been avoiding me for an entirely different reason. I was
stunned by the idea that she maybe she'd wanted nothing more than
to throw me down and screw me blind, hence her pissy manner
that insured I'd stay away and not become an irresistible treat.
Considering we hadn't been lovers until just a few months ago,
that would certainly explain why she'd felt a need to be as far
away from me as possible.
Can't exactly go around jumping your partner on impulse, now
can you? So you take pains to avoid them instead. Out of sight,
out of mind, Scully?
My grin just got bigger as I checked the previous two months on
my calendar. Sure enough: those particular red letter days were
times when we'd been apart for one reason or another. So even
though we were engaging in hot monkey love by then, she
had habitually avoided me the few days before her period.
Wouldn't want to actually admit she might be extraordinarily
horny and indulge herself in our new favorite pastime.
Well.
Wasn't that interesting.
So then I did what any red-blooded man would do: I formulated
a plan to use her hormones to my advantage.
Now before you start lecturing me about what a pig I am, ask
yourself: wouldn't you do the same?
I thought so.
I gave the unfiled files a cursory glance and decided they
weren't going anywhere. I locked up the office and headed
home. After grabbing a quick shower, I threw on jeans and a t-
shirt and hightailed it over to her place.
Apparently I'd interrupted a rare session of Scully self-
indulgence. I took a quick look over her shoulder as she threw
open the door, spotting the pint of Wavy Gravy on the coffee
table. William Hurt and Kathleen Turner were raising body
temperatures on the TV.
"What do you want?" she asked. The pissy tone was still there,
but she couldn't stop her eyes from raking me over head to toe
in a rather predatory way.
Bingo.
"Hello to you, too, Scully. Whatcha doin'?"
"Nothing," she growled.
"Good." I stepped right past her, ignoring the indignant look she
aimed at me.
I heard her huff dramatically as she closed the door. "What do
you want, Mulder?"
"Who says I want anything?" I pulled off my leather jacket and
tossed it onto the chair. Flopped down on the couch and
grabbed the ice cream. I had the first spoonful in my mouth as
she came around the end of the couch and planted herself in
front of me, hands on hips.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Eating your ice cream."
"I can see that."
I leisurely licked the back of the spoon clean, my eyes pinning hers.
"Why are you here, Mulder? Surely it's not just to eat my food."
I jammed the spoon back into the container and set it on the
table. "You're right. That's not why I'm here."
One eyebrow crept up her face and her hands lifted in question.
"I think," I told her, “That the real question is, what do you want?
"What do you mean?"
"What I mean is that you're not being honest with me, and I don't
think I like it."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
That's the moment I realized Scully was capable of looking me
straight in the eye without actually looking at me. Avoidance by
confrontation.
Amazing.
"You're a lousy liar, Scully. You always have been." I was a little
surprised at how raw my voice sounded to my own ears. Hoarse,
aroused. I was even getting a hard-on, and I'd yet to lay a finger
on her. It was shaping up to be an interesting afternoon.
"Excuse me?" she blustered. "If you've come here to insult me,
Mulder, then I think you'd better leave."
"I didn't come here to insult you." I slumped back against the
cushions, my feet purposefully planted wide. "I have something
much more pleasant in mind."
She did a quick check of my crotch before lifting her eyes to
mine. She tried to look innocent, like she hadn't just been caught
eyeing the goods, but she couldn't pull it off.
I had her fair and square.
"Look, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but-"
"Just couldn't stop thinking about it, could you?"
"What?"
"My head between your legs." I made each word slow and
precise. "The thought of me going down on you. It turns you on,
doesn't it, Scully?"
She began to stammer, no doubt trying to get out some kind of
excuse. I didn't give her the time. "In fact, I'd lay odds you're
getting wet right now, just from me saying the words."
"Mulder-"
"It's okay. It turns me on, too. See?" I glanced at the rapidly growing
bulge in my jeans. She obediently looked. When she raised her eyes,
they'd gone dark and heavy-lidded. "The only thing I'm not sure about is just what turns you on the most. Is it the thought of my mouth against you, licking you? Or my tongue dipping into you?" I deliberately looked back down at my crotch. "Or maybe it's this you're thinking about."
I knew I was. I didn't have a whole lot of choice. My cock was
straining uncomfortably against the rough denim of my jeans,
demanding attention. I heard her sharp intake of air as my hips
lifted slightly in invitation.
"It's okay," I told her again. "You don't have to hide from me
anymore, Scully. You don't have to pretend. Whatever you want,
whatever I can do for you, all you have to do is tell me and I'll do
it."
I lifted my hands from where they rested on my thighs and
draped my arms along the back of the couch, settling deeper
into the overstuffed cushions. "Now why don't you just slip out of
those clothes and come over here and tell me exactly what you want."
It was harder than hell to sound cool and confident when my
heart was pounding like a jackhammer in my chest. My throat
had gone so tight I don't think I could have swallowed had my
life depended on it. Not that there was any saliva remaining in
the arid desert my mouth had become.
To be perfectly honest, it wasn't just white-hot lust that caused
my symptoms. I was terrified of Scully's response. Despite the
way her hooded eyes lazily meandered over my body, despite
her ragged breathing and the soft, inviting curve of her mouth, I
had absolutely no idea what was going on in her head. For all I
knew I was seconds away from having my ass booted out of her
apartment and being told in no uncertain terms that I was no
longer welcome there.
I'd never done anything like that with her before. While we'd
indulged in the typical flirting lovers are wont to do over the last
couple of months, I hadn't ever been that blatant in approaching
her. We'd always entered into lovemaking the same way we did
everything else in our relationship: slowly, cautiously, with few
gestures and even fewer words.
All I could do at that moment was sit quietly and wait for her
to decide. Though it might have appeared to anyone else that I
was in charge of the situation, the complete opposite was true. It
was Scully's call. She was in control, and I knew that was just
the way she liked it.
It wasn't until her fingers lifted to the buttons of her blouse that I
released the breath I hadn't been aware of holding. She pinned my
eyes and wouldn't let go until she was forced to bend over to pull
off her pants. And then she straightened and faced me, clad in nothing but a lacy bra and panties.
"All of it," I managed to croak.
And then she cocked an eyebrow and gave me tiny, wicked
smile. A ragged chuckle escaped me and I finally took a deep
breath.
Thank you, Scully, for not kicking me out. Thank you for not
laughing in my face. Thank you for wanting me as much as I
wanted you.
She made short work of the bra and panties and stood there
waiting, giving me back a little of the control, letting me take a
leisurely look at what she was offering. She was five-foot two
inches of walking, talking perfection. I sat up and extended a
hand to her and she stepped forward and silently took it. I
tugged until she was standing right in front me, only inches
away, trapped between my knees. I closed my eyes and
breathed her in.
You know what it smells like just after it's rained on a perfect
early spring evening? When you catch a whiff of new grass and
leaves and just a hint of the musk of flowers still forming blossoms.
That's what Scully smells like.
I let go of her fingers and moved my hands to her hips, holding
her firmly in place. And then I leaned forward and kissed the soft
slope of her belly, just below her navel. Her fingers slipped
through my hair as I turned my cheek and rested it against her.
There I was just seconds after telling her to strip naked and
talk dirty to me, struggling with a hard-on that could cut glass,
when suddenly the back of my throat started to ache and
my eyes to sting. All signs of impending tears. My face was
buried in the softness of her belly, inches away from the source
of her intense fragrance, and all I could do was get teary-eyed
because I thought I must be the luckiest sonofabitch on the face
of the earth.
Now you must understand something: I never thought Scully
and I would get to the place we've reached. It's not that we
weren't aware of our feelings for each other and the attraction
between us, or curious about what it might be like to give in to
that attraction. It's just that when you cut to the chase, both of us
tend to be chickenshit when it comes to matters of the heart.
Especially when you factor in all we had to lose if it'd turned
out that sex between us was something better left to the
imagination.
But we were lucky, Scully and me. We came together and
discovered it could be even better than we had any right to
expect. And sometimes that gets to me. It did that day, and in all
honesty, it still happens with alarming frequency.
Scully, bless her horny little heart, pulled me right out my
sentimental brooding. "You were right, Mulder," she murmured
as I turned my face and kissed her again. "About everything you
said. You made that joke in the office and I couldn't stop thinking
about it. It just made me so…"
"Horny?" I supplied.
I felt the vibration of her silent chuckle as I continued to taste
her belly. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. And I had to get
out of there. I'm not used to being able to admit my feelings to
myself, let alone to you and… oh, don't stop doing that, Mulder…
and so I ran away."
I moved my hands around and took a hold of her perfect little
ass, gently kneading the flesh. I dipped my head and began to
kiss along the crease where thigh met torso. "Old habits die
hard, huh?"
"Oh, God. Yes, they do." Her fingers had taken a firmer grip on
my head, directing my mouth where she wanted it. Which just
happened to be where I wanted it, too. I nuzzled the crisp copper
curls at the apex of her thighs. "Mulder, please."
"What do you want?"
"You know what I want."
"No," I reminded her, "I want you to tell me."
She got quiet and I pulled away a little, looking up at her. She
was gnawing on her bottom lip. Her expression was one of
shyness struggling with need, and it was just about the sexiest
thing I'd ever seen. I considered letting her off the hook. For a
second or two. But it was too good to let go. My cock twitched in
anticipation.
She closed her eyes in a slow blink and whispered, "I want your
mouth on me."
Good girl.
"Where, Scully? Show me."
She gave me a look that told me I was going to pay big-time for
being so insistent. I was smart enough not to let her know how
much I was looking forward to that. Sometimes you just have to
keep things to yourself.
I thought she might take the less risky option and beat around
the bush (no pun intended), but she apparently didn't want to
waste any more time. One hand left my hair and came to rest on
her stomach. There was only a moment's hesitation before she
slid it down and cupped herself.
"Here," she breathed.
Never let it be said that I give up easily; especially not when
things are getting interesting.
"I'm sorry, I can't see, your hand's in the way. Where?"
She slowly made a return trip up, this time with the first two
fingers of her hand spread apart. This, of course, opened her up
and left the small bud of her clit peeking out. She was wet, her
folds plump and glistening, shaded a deep pinkish-red.
Beautiful. My little hothouse flower.
I licked my lips in anticipation and she sighed quietly as she
spotted the tip of my tongue.
"There?" I asked.
"Yes." She growled impatiently, "Jesus, Mulder, just do it."
So I leaned in and flicked my tongue once against her clit,
sliding off the couch until I was on my knees. And then I went in
for the kill. It was a good thing my hands were still on her ass,
because her knees buckled almost immediately. She groaned
low in her throat and dug her nails into my scalp.
I've never understood men who don't enjoy being on the giving
end of oral sex. It's always been right up there on my list of
favorite things to do. I could spend hours at it-and have.
Consider it a benefit of my obvious oral fixation. Scully certainly
does.
I ran my tongue along her soft folds and then pulled them into
my mouth, gently sucking the flesh before letting my tongue slip
inside her. She clenched tight around me, beginning to thrust
and grind against my mouth as I dipped in and tasted her smoky
sweetness. I drew my tongue back and then ran it up her cleft,
landing on her clit and mirroring the small circles her hips had
begun to make.
Scully was moaning and whispering nonsense words, her legs
grower weaker as the minutes ticked by. I wasn't sure how much
longer I'd be able to hold her up and my neck was beginning to
complain about my awkward position anyway. So I pulled away
and shoved the coffee table out a few feet, lying down on my
back on the floor. I ended up with Scully standing above me, her
feet planted on either side of my waist.
She gave a little grunt of disappointment and then squatted and
reached down, going for the buttons on my jeans. I grabbed her
wrists to stop her. She looked down at me with unfocused eyes,
her tongue snaking out to wet her lips.
"Uh-uh." I let go and grabbed her hips, pulling her up toward me.
"C'mere, I'm not finished yet." She crawled up until her knees
were next to my ears and settled right down on my face.
Oh, yeah. It was heaven. It was as good as it got.
Somewhere along the line, I reached down and undid my fly. My
cock had gotten progressively larger and harder and I was afraid
the little bugger might suffocate if I didn't give him some air. It
eased the pressure but not my discomfort. My cock was aching
to do what my fingers and tongue were busy at.
But that's just part of the fun-holding off until you can't stand it
anymore. God knows Scully and I had made it an art form,
waiting over five years before we finally gave in the first time.
Now that I knew she wasn't going anywhere, it was nothing to
wait until I'd made good on my word to give her what she
wanted.
Just a few minutes later Scully went stiff, her back snapping
straight, and noisily came. She ground against me a little longer,
riding it out, and then folded bonelessly at the waist. She braced
her hands on the floor above my head and I wiggled out from
beneath her and got on my knees. I quickly hauled off my t-shirt
and then shoved my jeans and boxers down my hips. Wrapping
an arm around her waist, I lifted her ass in the air. And then, not
giving her time to catch her breath, I buried my cock inside her
in one savage thrust.
She squeaked and I grunted and then she arched her spine and
shoved back against me, matching me stroke for stroke. I knew I
wasn't going to last long. I could already feel the heat coiling low
in my belly, gathering strength and moving even lower, into my
balls and all along the length of my cock. But I wanted to make
Scully come one more time. Just once more. Her two for my
one. It sounded fair to me.
I spread my knees as wide as my jeans would allow and draped
myself over her. Reaching up and grabbing a breast, I pinched
the nipple between my fingers and then slid my hand down her
belly and found her clit.
"Oh, Mulder."
It was first intelligible thing she'd said in several minutes, and it
came out in a low keen. I wanted to say something. I wanted to
tell her how fucking good she felt - tight, hot, wet, squeezing
around me - but I was beyond words, beyond any thought but
relieving the ache in my balls and the screaming in my head. I
settled for turning my face into her neck and taking her earlobe
between my teeth. I bit down just as she came and she bucked
violently against me.
Two, three, four more thrusts and I followed her down, throwing
my head back and growling like a goddamn animal. I kept
pounding into her long after my cock stop spasming and she'd
milked me dry, not wanting to stop what had felt so
unbelievably good. But my knees gave out in the end, forcing
me to lift myself off her back and collapse on the floor next to
her.
Scully's face was buried in the carpet, her fiery hair a tousled
mess, her legs and arms akimbo. Her back was rising and falling
rapidly as she desperately sucked in air. I fought to control my
own breathing and reached over to run a hand down her sweat-
covered back, coming to rest on the swell of her ass and giving
it a friendly squeeze.
She lifted her head a few minutes later and turned her face
toward me, squinting at me through the hair that fell over her
eyes.
"Hi," I murmured.
She groaned in reply and opened her eyes all the way, looking
me over. A slow smile spread across her face.
"What?" I asked.
She snickered. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look,
Mulder?"
I looked down at myself and then back at her, grinning like a
fool. My jeans and boxers were bunched around my knees, my
feet still encased in boots, my erection rapidly deflating and
lying wet and limp against my thigh. All in all, not exactly the
model of suave sophistication. "I didn't hear you complaining
earlier, Scully. Besides, you're not exactly cover girl material
yourself at the moment."
"Depends on what magazine I'd be posing for." She made a
'gotcha' face, obviously pleased with herself.
I chuckled and pulled her closer, "Baby, you can pose for me
anytime you want."
"I figured as much. And don't call me baby." She levered up on
an elbow and brushed the hair from her face. I watched, with
much appreciation, the sway of her breasts. "Mulder, kiss me."
"With pleasure." I wrapped a hand around the nape of her neck
and guided her mouth down to mine. The first touch of her lips
was electric, like a high-voltage current shooting through my
body.
Scully and I are stingy with our kisses. I guess part of the reason
is that neither one of us wants to get used to them. They're
incredible, you see, and it would be far too easy to become
addicted to them, to want to indulge without any thought as to
where we are or what we should be doing instead. Too easy to
be in the office or out in the field and be overwhelmed by an
intense desire to turn to each other and grab a big, fat, wet kiss.
So we dole them out carefully.
But that's not the only reason. It goes deeper than that. I think
maybe it's because getting to that first kiss took so much longer
than anything else. There's something even more special about
kissing her than fucking her. I know it may sound strange to you, but
then Scully and I have never exactly been poster children for
normal behavior.
Eons later we broke apart and I licked the taste of her from my
lips. She peered at me drowsily and declared, "You know, this is
completely unfair of you."
"What is?"
"Taking advantage of me the way you just did. Pulling your
profiling wonder boy act and figuring out what my problem was."
I smiled in victory. "Does this mean I can pencil you in for a
repeat performance in about, oh, twenty-six days?"
"I have to wait that long?"
I tossed back my head and laughed as I gathered her into my
arms. "You don't have to wait at all. Like I told you: all
you have to do is tell me and I'm there. Whatever you want,
whenever you want it. Your secret is safe with me."
"At the rate we're going, I won't have any secrets left."
I drew back a little and looked at her. "Would that be such
a bad thing?"
"My mother always said a woman should have one or two
secrets, just to maintain an air of mystery."
"And what do you say, Scully?"
"I say," she stretched up and kissed me, "that some secrets are
too good to keep to yourself."
I couldn't have agreed more.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
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