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vintagestarlight · 1 year ago

Text

Couple's Trip

Summary: you and John take a trip for your anniversary and John has a very special question to ask

Pairing: John Price x gf!reader

Words:~ 2.0k

Warnings: fluff, tiny bit of angst(?), smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex(wrap it before you tap it folks :3), MDNI!!

A/N: so this has been sitting in my drafts for months and I finally finished it! Probably the longest fic I’ve written and I’m not sure how I feel about it(I feel like I’m better at writing fluff pieces rather than spicy ones maybe?)but let me know what yall think! I’m working on another Price fic and a Soap fic so stay tuned! :)

A/N: As always likes, reblogs, comments, and feedback of all types are welcome and my inbox is always open! Hope you guys enjoy!!

***beware of typos lol

Your mind wandered as you zipped your suitcase shut. John announced you were taking a trip for your anniversary and refused to tell you where. "You'll find out when we get there love," he said with a laugh after you pestered him to tell you. You walked downstairs and set your suitcase by the front door.

Through no fault of his own John wasn't always around for your anniversary. He always tried his best to to have his leave coincide but it didn't always happen. Usually you just had a nice dinner at home or John would surprise you with flowers; both of which you enjoyed. Needless to say you were shocked but excited when John told you he had a few weeks leave and had something big planned.

"Hey hon, remember to pack your toothbrush this time," you said, doublechecking to make sure you had everything. "You forget it every time," you mused. "I'm not going to forget my toothbrush dove. And I don't forget it every time," Price argued; he checked his suitcase and realized he forgot. He went to the bathroom and grabbed his toothbrush to pack it away without telling you.

"Are you ready love?" Price asked. "I want to get going," You noticed your boyfriend seemed to be acting weird. He was very fidgety and it wasn't like him at all.

"You okay?" You asked. "You seem anxious to get going,"

"Yeah I'm fine love I just want to get there before dark," Price replied, taking the luggage outside. He loaded the suitcases into the back of the car and slipped his hand in his pocket. His fingers brushed against the velvet box resting in his pocket. "Well if we want to get there before dark we should get going," you called out and shut the door behind you, locking up the house.

You noticed the scenery started to change from hilly landscapes to dense woods. You started to get excited about what was at the end of your little road trip. The car turned on to a cobblestone stone driveway that led to a beautiful cabin overlooking a private lake surrounded by trees. "Oh John this is beautiful!" You said, looking out the window. "How did you know about this?" You asked. "An old mate of mine offered to let us use it for the week," he smiled watching you try and take it all in.

"This whole place is for us?" You asked, wondering if you could possibly see everything in just a few days. Price squeezed your thigh. "Just us," he said, parking the car. "Here love," Price stated. He fished in his pocket pulling out a set of keys. "Here's the keys to the cabin. Why don't you go take a look around, while I unload the car" he suggested.

You smiled and took the keys from him walking up to the front steps. You unlocked the front door and stepped inside. The living room was decorated in a way you would expect a cabin to be decorated. A large sofa facing a tv mounted on the wall, a large red rug in the middle of the floor, an end table with a lamp beside the couch, a tv stand, large fireplace, and a chandelier made from antlers adorned the living room. There was also a full kitchen to your right when you walked in.

You made your way to the stairs and found the master bedroom. A king size bed was the centerpiece of the room with a wool blanket draped over the end. The curtains were drawn and a soft light emanated from a lamp sitting on a bedside table.

Your footsteps were hushed by the soft carpet as you walked to the bathroom. The master bathroom was beautifully decorated in finished wood and white accents with a big claw foot tub; definitely big enough for both you and John. A window that faced the lake and woods let in a nice breeze and you couldn't help smiling, the fact it was yours for a few days finally setting in.

You came down the stairs just as John set down the last of your luggage. "So? What do you think?" Price asked, smiling as you wrapped your arms around him. "It's perfect John!” you smiled. "It's so beautiful," you planted a kiss on his lips.

Over the next few days the ring Price carried around burned a hole in his pocket. He tried finding the right time to ask you but everytime he tried he got nervous. He was the Captain of the most elite special forces team in the world and he couldn't even ask you to marry him. He sat at the edge of the dock, his fishing pole in his hands. He looked at the water waiting for a fish to bite and thinking about how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. If only I could just ask her. With a frustrated sigh, he got up to stretch his legs still holding the fishing pole.

These few days seemed like a dream to you. Getting to spend this time with John was something you didn't always get to have. You noticed your boyfriend's behavior was somewhat off. He was anxious and fidgety when he's normally the calm and self-assured one in the relationship. You saw him sitting at the dock fishing and you smiled to yourself. His behavior may have changed but him fishing certainly hadn't.

You opened the front door and started walking down the cobblestone path the sweet air warming your skin. You saw little firefly's glowing in the garden flying around. "Have you caught anything yet?" You asked, siting down in a lawn chair with him standing holding his fishing pole. John glanced over and saw you wearing one of his army green t shirts and a pair of sleep shorts; he felt his heart skip a beat and his cock swell embarassingly hard despite the spirited romp in the sheets a mere few hours prior. For some strange reason, it made his thoughts drift back to the little box still tucked away in his pocket; he carried it with him everywhere since they got here. He still couldn’t believe he had trouble asking you a simple four-worded question. It was almost laughable that something so simple had the Captain racked with anxiety. The man who was feared just as much as he was respected in the field. What if you said no? What if you didn’t actually love him and this was the push you needed to leave him? He grimaced as his thoughts got more and more out of control.

“No I think I missed most of them,” he muttered and turned his attention back to the water. You furrowed your eyebrows; something was up with your boyfriend. Not much fazed the 6’2” Brit so to see him so lost in thought worried you. You got to your feet and wrapped your arms around your lover; your hands dipped underneath the shirt he was wearing and felt the dusting of wiry chest hair. You ran your fingers down the strong expanse of his chest and abdomen following the happy trail that disappears into his waistband. “What’s wrong hon?” You asked. “Nothing is wrong I’m fine love,” He grumbled. “You’ve been acting strange for the past few days and that isn’t like you,” You persisted. "I want to know what’s bothering you. You know you can tell me anything right?” You reassured him. John shifted his attention from the still water to you and tried to think of what to say.

“Do you…still love me?” He asked with uncertainty. “Would I have let you put me in those positions if I didn’t?” You teased, referencing the previous bedroom escapades. Seeing his face didn’t change, you realized he was serious. “Of course I do. Why would you think I don’t?” You asked. “Well…sometimes I can’t help but think you’ll wake up one day and come to your senses and leave me for someone who actually deserves you,” He sighed. It felt foreign to him to talk about his feelings but you made him feel safe enough that he could. You always brought out the best of him and it was one of the many reasons he wanted to marry you. “John Price, I am never going to leave you,” You told him, placing your hands on his muttonchops, framing his face. You hated it when he talked so badly about himself. “I love you so much and you deserve everything,” You said, gazing up at him. “Even if I am a grumpy old man?” He asked. “Yes even though you’re a grumpy old man,” you teased. “Hey! Easy now,” He said in mock annoyance. You placed your lips on his, capturing him in a heated kiss. You felt him kiss you back and the tension from his shoulders melted away. He groaned and pressed your bodies together, reaching down to grab a handful of your ass. He chuckled quietly when you whined as he pulled away. “In that case, there’s something I need to ask you,” He slipped his hand into his pocket while dropping down onto one knee. It’s now or never Price. He told himself. Your eyes went wide and filled with tears as you realized what was happening. “Y/N, will you marry me?” He asked, hoping, no silently begging, for you to say yes. “Yes! Yes I’ll marry you John Price,” you cried.

******

“FUCK!” You screamed. The headboard practically hit the wall with each harsh thrust from John. The room was filled with obscene yet erotic sound of panting and skin slapping against skin. “Fuck you’re taking me so well love,” John panted out, taking a glance down to where your cunt practically swallowed his cock. The sight drove him mad and he let out sounds he didn’t know he had in him. Those sounds he was making, the breathy groans and whimpers almost made you come then and there. “Fuck John!” You panted, feeling yourself get closer with every snap of John’s hips that hit perfectly inside you. John could feel you squeezing him like a vice and he knew you were close to coming. He grabbed the head board and pushed your legs to your chest to better plow into you and get as deep as he could into your pulsing cunt. “That’s it love,” He breathed out, his pace unrelenting. “Come for me love, come for me,”. John’s voice sounded strained as he focused on making you come before he did. You keened as you felt yourself go over the edge, coming on John’s cock. You squeezed him so tightly he swore he saw stars and came deep inside you, thick ropes of white staining the inside of your cunt. John rested his forehead against yours, strands of his hair sticking to the sweaty skin. You felt the sheer sheen of perspiration that had covered your own body begin to dry and cool off the longer the two of you stayed in each other’s embrace. "You okay love?” He asked, still out of breath as you both waited for your heart rates to slow. “More than okay,” you smiled lazily. Price gingerly pulled out his softened cock and walked to the bathroom, you admiring his bare ass as he walked away. John used a warm wash cloth to gently clean you up before grabbing a celebratory cigar and lighting it. You watched and admired his naked body as he poured himself a glass of scotch from the decanter sitting on the small table in the room before sliding back into bed with you.

You and John lay slightly tangled in the sheets with your head resting on his chest and his arm around you, relishing in that wonderful, hazy post sex daze. You couldn’t help but stare at the ring on your finger and smile; John was your fiancée and you could hardly believe it. “Careful now or I’ll think you love the ring more than me,” John’s deep baritone voice reverberating in his chest. “Well the ring is pretty great. And all I have is an old man,” you teased, looking up at him knowing he just proved himself to be anything but an old man. Your remark earned you a playful pinch on your ass. You squealed and laughed, swatting his chest playfully.

“Don’t worry Mr. Price I only have eyes for you my love,” You said, planting a kiss on his lips. "I love you,"

“I love you too soon-to-be Mrs. Price,”

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sisterspooky1013 · 1 year ago

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Gaslight, Chapter 3/58

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Dana reluctantly steps out of the passenger seat and follows her mother to the front door. Cal keeps his hands in his pockets, bobbing his head at her with a pained smile. They all stand there awkwardly for a beat until Maggie pushes the front door open and steps past the threshold, looking over her shoulder at Dana expectantly.

Dana steps into the foyer and looks around. There’s a staircase immediately in front of her with a hallway running adjacent. To her left is a living room, to her right a dining room. The floors are all hardwood, the walls bordered with crown molding and chair rails. It’s a nice house, one she might have dreamed about living in one day when she was a young woman just setting out in her career. She spots a stuffed elephant at the foot of the stairs and she picks it up, a flush of fear washing through her as she recalls the children.

“The kids are at the neighbors’,” Cal says suddenly, and she turns to see him standing near the front door. “I thought maybe it would be easier for you if they weren’t here right when you got home.” His expression is empathetic but also wounded, and his jaw twitches jerkily to one side like it did at the hospital this morning. One of his shoulders lifts spasmodically and his head tilts toward it, and she looks away.

“Why don’t you give her a tour, Cal?” Maggie suggests, and she can feel them exchanging meaningful looks behind her.

“Good idea, Maggie,” Cal acquiesces, and walks slowly into the room to their left. “This is the formal sitting room,” he says, gesturing around. There’s a small sofa across from an armchair, and a shelf loaded with books. “We don’t really spend much time in here.” He looks at her, clearly expecting some kind of response or recognition, but she feels nothing. He leads her through a set of French doors at the back of the room into another living room. “This is the family room. This is where we usually watch TV or whatever after the kids are in bed.”

She realizes that the we in his statement means the two of them: Dana and Cal. The married couple, working parents of two young children. She looks at the sectional couch and the TV mounted to the wall above the fireplace and tries to imagine them there, curled up with glasses of wine and network TV. She just can’t see it. On the wall beside the fireplace there’s a large family photo mounted in an ornate frame. She glances at it, but she can feel Cal watching her so she looks away.

The back wall of the house is covered in windows, and she can see a generous deck and well maintained yard. At the other end of the great room is a well-appointed kitchen with granite countertops and an island. She walks across the room and runs her palm over the cool stone, wondering how many times she’s prepared dinner here, or baked birthday cakes.

“That hallway leads back to the front door,” Cal says, pointing to a hall between the living and kitchen areas. “And this one over here leads to the dining room. The garage is just through here,” he says with a thumb hitched toward a door near the pantry. She meets his eye briefly and his melancholy tugs at her heart. She feels as though she’s stolen something from him, but she doesn’t know how to give it back. His jaw jerks and his shoulder jumps, and her doctor’s mind begins to wonder. He must see it on her face, because he looks down and sighs heavily. “I have Tourette’s,” he supplies, his tone defeated. “My tics get worse when I’m stressed.”

“Oh,” she answers, stopping short of adding a platitude. She realizes that this is information she should already have, that this is a disclosure he’s made to her already, years ago. She realizes that he went to bed a few days ago with a wife who loved and accepted him exactly as he is, and now has a stranger in his wife’s body standing in his kitchen gawking at his tics. “You have a beautiful home,” she says, trying to break the tension, and Cal lifts his head and looks at her like she slapped him in the face.

“Let’s look upstairs, Dana,” Maggie says, and Dana turns to see her hovering near the hallway that Cal indicated leads to the front door. Dana steals a glance at him but his head is down, so she follows her mother back to the stairwell. “You fell in love with this house the moment you saw it,” Maggie explains as Dana trails behind her to the second floor. “Cal felt like it was too big of an investment, but you insisted.”

The stairs turn and then end at a large landing, and to the right there is an open space that runs along the front of the house. The floor is littered with toys and a dollhouse is pushed against the far wall, and she infers that this area serves as a play space for the children. Maggie stands at the top of the stairs and watches her as she picks up a naked Barbie and smooths its hair down, then sets it in the driver’s seat of a plastic sports car. Dana wanders past her mother to the hallway that runs along the other side of the stairwell. She starts at the furthest room to the left, which hosts a queen bed and neutral decor. A guest room, she assumes, not one occupied by anyone on a regular basis.

The next door opens to a child’s room with green walls and a lofted bed. The floor is a carpet of Hot Wheels, LEGO, and action figures, and wooden letters mounted between the two windows read “Peter.” There’s a poster near the closet of a brown-haired man beside a blue cartoon dog boasting “We just figured out Blue’s Clues because we’re really smart.” She quietly closes the door and moves to the next, which is a bathroom that looks to be shared by the children. The next door is a girl’s room, much neater than Peter’s. The four-poster bed is hung with a white lace canopy, and a fleet of neatly arranged stuffed animals sits atop the carefully made blankets. On a desk near the window there are several sheets of paper with a child’s messy scrawl attempting the same message over and over.

Deer Mommy, I mess you.

Deer Mommy, kum home soon.

Deer Mommy, do not forgit about Jessis birtday.

Dana’s chest feels tight and she walks away from the desk, back into the hallway where Maggie looks at her with a concerned wrinkle of her eyebrows. Dana pauses, taking several steadying breaths, and looks from the final door at the end of the hall back to her mother.

“That’s the master bedroom,” Maggie supplies, and Dana nods.

She steps through cautiously, feeling like an intruder. There’s a king size bed on a maple sleigh frame in the middle of the furthest wall, and a matching dresser opposite. She approaches the bed, picking up a framed photograph on one of the side tables and inspecting it with clinical detachment. In it, she and Cal stand on a beach, sun on their faces and wind pushing her hair around haphazardly. Cal’s arm is extended and the photo is close cropped, indicating they took it themselves. He is smiling broadly and her lips are pressed to his cheek, her eyes closed. She stares at the photo, begging her mind to call forth a memory, a feeling, a sense of recognition. She feels nothing.

She returns the picture and looks over the rest of the items on the table: an alarm clock, a Dean Koontz novel, a set of foam earplugs. She crosses to the other side table and finds a dog-eared copy of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, a bottle of lotion, chapstick, and a pair of reading glasses. While the items are not familiar, it seems clear that this is her side of the bed. She carefully pulls the drawer on the side table open, and almost slams it back closed before she realizes that these are her belongings. A half-used box of condoms, a bottle of KY jelly, and a small egg-shaped device attached to a remote that she has to assume is a vibrator, though it looks nothing like her most recent recollection of such a tool.

She wanders into the master bathroom and feels her first glimpse of a positive emotion when she sees a large soaking tub. There is also a stall shower, and a large walk in closet. She runs her hands over the fabric of her clothes, gathering it up and bringing it to her nose. She does the same with Cal’s clothes, hoping for some kind of spark. It’s all just stuff, neither offensive nor familiar. Just things in a room in a house in a town. Things that could belong to anyone, but somehow belong to her.

She makes her way back to where Maggie is still standing at the top of the stairs. Dana flashes her eyes only briefly at her mother, long enough to watch the hopeful look fall from her face.

“It’s okay, Dana,” Maggie says reassuringly, though Dana can hear the tightness in her throat. She feels like a disappointment, like a letdown. She wishes she knew when she might feel something other than lost.

They find Cal in the kitchen, hunkered down at the island scribbling on a legal pad. He stands when they enter the room, and Dana averts her eyes so she doesn’t have to watch Maggie confirm that no memories were called forth while they were upstairs. She still doesn’t remember. She still doesn’t know who she is.

“I wrote some things down for you,” Cal says hopefully, sliding the legal pad toward her. “Just some basics about me and the kids. Michelle said it might help you remember, or at least feel less confused.”

Dana pushes her mouth into a smile and glances at the paper. At the top it says:

Calvin Michael Rose DOB 05/29/62

Abigail Margaret Rose DOB 12/12/93

Peter Calvin Rose DOB 03/29/96

Beneath the three names, squeezed in as a clear afterthought:

Dana Katherine Rose DOB 2/23/64

“I do remember my own birthday,” she says softly, then looks at Cal and attempts a genuine smile. “So at least I’ve got that going for me.”

Cal hesitates, trying to read her, and then a relieved smile stretches across his face.

“Damn, I was hoping maybe I could get away with forgetting it next year,” he quips half-heartedly, and something that feels a little bit like hope stirs in her chest.

There’s a screech from outside and Dana’s eyes widen.

“That’s the kids,” Maggie says with thinly veiled panic as she hurries to the front door.

Dana stays put, her heart leaping into her throat. Cal gives her a long look and then follows Maggie down the hallway, and Dana listens as they greet the children.

“Grammie!”

“Abby girl, did you grow again since I saw you last? I specifically told you to stop that!”

“I can’t stop growing, Grammie, that’s unpossible.”

“Grammie, I growed a million feet last night!”

“Oh my goodness, you’re right, Pete! How will you fit in your bed?”

A long pause.

“Grammie’s joking, bud, you’ll still fit in your bed.”

“Is Mommy home?”

Another long pause.

“Yes, she is, would you like to say hi?”

“Does she remember me?”

“You know what, kiddo, her brain is still working really hard to remember everything.”

“Mommy doesn’t know us?”

“Of course she knows you, Abby. Her heart knows you, okay? Her brain is just still a little confused from getting bumped on the head.”

The quick tramp of feet skitter down the hall, and Dana braces herself.

“Whoa, Pete, hold on—”

“Mommy, I finded a rock what looks like a dinosaur egg!”

A small boy comes flying into the room, looking around and then making a determined beeline toward her with an outstretched hand. He has dark features and big, protruding ears. She immediately notes how much he looks like Cal, though she’s unsettled by the familiar set of his mouth—one she’s seen in the mirror on many occasions. He steps right up close and holds out a smooth white rock that is speckled with black spots.

“It’s a egg from a T-Rex, Mommy! I finded it in Eric’s yard!” he says proudly, grabbing onto her arm for leverage as he pushes up on his tiptoes to get the rock as close to her face as possible.

“Wow,” she stammers, accepting the proffered rock and examining it. “This is really cool, Pete.”

She looks up and sees Cal and a young girl standing in the doorway of the kitchen. The girl is half-hidden behind Cal’s body, her cheek pressed against his hip. She has long, reddish-brown hair and a fair complexion, and her mouth is twisted into a suspicious scowl.

“Hi, Abby,” she says gently, her heart aching with the knowledge that a known and loved mother has been swapped with a changeling, that being herself. Whatever her own struggle to find her place in this life, she cannot allow these children to lose their parent.

Abby moves further behind Cal, only one of her eyes peeking out around his body. Cal reaches behind his back and tries to encourage her out, pivoting to make himself less useful as a barrier.

“Come on, honey, it’s okay,” he gently coaxes her.

“It’s okay, Cal, don’t force her,” Dana insists, and Cal drops his arms in resignation as Abby presses her face into his lower back and wraps her arms around his hips.

“Mommy, do you know me?” Pete asks, his face screwed up into a comically emphatic expression of doubt.

Dana crouches down so that she is eye level with the child and searches his face. He’s a cute kid: long, dark eyelashes, little chiclet teeth, a button of a nose. She has the distinct impression that she has never before seen him until this moment.

“Of course, you’re Pete!” she says brightly, and the child’s mouth springs into a wide, gummy smile.

“I knowed it!” he declares triumphantly, turning to address his sister. “Mommy knows us, Abby!” he tells her, but the elder child only tightens her grip on her father.

Dana stands and meets Cal’s eye, and he blinks at her somberly as he understands that she is just placating the children.

“Who wants pizza?” he asks with energy in his voice that does not translate to his body.

“Me! I do!” the children squeal, Abby emerging from behind her father to jump up and down with one arm raised.

“Sounds great,” Dana says, though she doubts that she has any room for pizza beside the rock that currently sits heavy in her gut.

“I’m only forty minutes away, Dana,” Maggie says as she lowers herself into the driver’s seat of her car.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” Dana asks hopefully, glancing over her shoulder to the house—her house.

“I’ll end up stuck in rush hour traffic if I wait much longer,” Maggie explains.

“Oh…okay,” Dana says, taking one step back so Maggie has room to close the door.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,” Maggie reassures her, and a sudden onslaught of tears thickens Dana’s throat. “I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

Dana looks at the ground and nods, feeling like a fearful child.

She watches from the driveway until her mother’s car disappears around the corner and out of sight, and then slowly makes her way back into the house. She hears chatter from the kitchen as soon as she steps through the door, and she pauses to listen for a moment.

“Look how long my cheese can stretch,” Abby says with a full mouth.

“Very impressive,” Cal replies.

“What’s that, Daddy?” Pete asks.

“It’s a mushroom, bud.”

“Blech! That’s a-scusting!” Pete shouts dramatically.

“That just means more for me,” Cal retorts, following it with a series of yummy noises as Pete laughs heartily.

Dana makes her way down the hall, standing uncomfortably at one end of the island and surveying the scene. One box of cheese pizza lies open, and another with an assortment of meats and vegetables that doesn’t look especially appetizing. Cal is seated between the two children, and there is an open seat beside Abby that is presumably meant to be hers.

“Sit down,” Cal suggests with a nod toward the open chair. “I got half with no sausage for you.”

Dana takes a plate and selects a slice of pizza sans sausage, then moves carefully toward the seat beside Abby. Abby glances at Cal and he nods softly in reassurance. Dana takes a small bite, pushing it around in her mouth.

“How was your day today, Abby?” she asks, and Abby looks at her like she has three heads.

“Abby had soccer today, right?” Cal prompts her, and Abby stares at her plate.

“I can throw a ball really, really far!” Pete interjects.

“I’d love to see that,” Dana tells him, and the four-year-old beams.

“You’ve already seen him do it a hundred million times,” Abby grumbles.

“Abigail,” Cal warns her sternly.

“It’s okay,” Dana says quietly, giving him a pleading look over Abby’s head.

They finish their meal amiably, with Pete happily taking the spotlight and filling any gaps in conversation. Dana offers to clean the kitchen while Cal takes the children upstairs to get ready for bed, then spends the better part of fifteen minutes trying to find the recycling before she concludes that they must not recycle. Finally, she pads up the stairs and follows the sounds of voices to the half-open door of Abby’s room.

“It’s okay, honey, Mommy just needs some time for her brain to feel better,” Cal says gently, and there is a wet sniff.

“She doesn’t even know who I am, Daddy,” the little girl whines, and Dana’s heart clutches. “She keeps calling me Abby.”

“That’s your name!” Pete points out, and Cal shushes him.

“I know it is, bud, but Mommy always calls Abby her special name, remember?”

“She calls me Peter Peter Punkin Eater,” Pete says sadly.

“Only sometimes, Pete.”

“What if she never, ever remembers us?” Abby asks pleadingly, and there is a long pause.

“I think she will, honey. I don’t know how long it will take, but I know Mommy loves you so much, she could never forget you.”

Another wet sniff and a shuddering inhale.

“Can you read Animal Daddies and My Daddy?” Abby asks.

Dana waits in the formal sitting room until she hears a heavy sigh and Cal’s footsteps on the stairs. She stands abruptly and he startles, then rubs one hand over his face.

“They’re asleep,” he says, and she recognizes the domestic familiarity of the exchange.

“Cal, I’m sorry—” she starts, and he holds up his hand.

“Don’t do that, Dana. It’s not your fault. They’ll be okay, kids are resilient. And I can see—I know you’re trying.” She nods in agreement, and he gives her a long look. “I’m exhausted, I’m just going to grab a few things from our room and I’ll take the guest bed.”

Our room.

“No, please, I hate to kick you out of your own bedroom,” she says, though she is immediately relieved that he hadn’t been expecting to share a bed with her tonight.

Cal stares at her, and she senses that he is debating whether to say what he’s thinking.

“It’s your room too, Dana,” he points out with pain in his voice.

Dana closes her eyes briefly, wondering if she will stop stepping on landmines anytime soon.

“I know, sorry. I’d just feel more comfortable if I take the guest room, if that’s okay,” she tries.

“Sure,” he aquiesces with a sigh. “Why don’t you go up and grab whatever you need? You can use the kid’s bathroom if you want. Whatever feels…best.”

She slips past him up the stairs and rifles through her own belongings in search of what she needs. Thirty minutes later, she pulls back the covers on the guest bed and tries to get comfortable. She feels wrung out and overtired, but her brain keeps buzzing and buzzing, searching for something to hold on to. Something real.

Her hands move through hot, soapy water that nearly reaches her elbows. She feels around for something to wash, green countertops bordering her visual field. She’s comfortable, safe, a little bit excited. She feels like this is a place she’s supposed to be. Music pipes in from somewhere nearby and her hips sway along. Suddenly, someone is right behind her, touching her. Hands slide down her arms and beneath the water, fingers intertwining with hers. She steps back, and begins to turn to face the figure—

“Mommy, I finded the clue!”

Dana sits up with a gasp, her heart pounding in her throat. She scans the room, disoriented. Where is she?

“Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper didn’t find the clue before me!”

She looks to her right and sees Pete, clad in Superman jammies, clutching a stuffed blue dog to his side.

“Hey, Pete,” she croaks, her heart slowing as she places herself. “You found a clue?”

Pete scrambles up onto the bed and climbs under the blankets beside her.

“Yep, I finded the paw print what Blue left and they didn’t even see it. I figured out Blue’s clue cause I’m really really smart,” Pete explains proudly.

Dana looks down at him, tucked comfortably against her side. While she doesn’t remember him per se, she does feel a maternal tug towards his impish disposition and how readily he’s accepted her. She wraps one arm around his shoulder and gives him a half-hug.

“That’s really cool, Pete. Great job,” she says fondly.

“I’m gonna go see the rest,” Pete says, and just as quickly as he arrived, he disappears from the room.

Dana flops back onto the bed and stares at the ceiling. Her dream is already slipping away, and she tries to cling to the details. She was washing dishes, maybe. Someone else was there. It feels like a memory, but she can’t access the rest of it.

He. He was there. Him. She doesn’t know it by any factual measure, but she knows it in her heart. Where is he? Who is he? She wants to find out so badly it hurts.

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #x files fanfic #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #xf fanfic #x files

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