#also the woman playing scully is actually pretty good

[misslilli]

Whelp, with yesterday we're back at school. Teaching first grade is hard, man 😂 Thank you guys, again, for going on this adventure with me :)

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | read on AO3

Chapter 17 - The Mulder Boys's Birthday Bash

[ DS ]

The Saturday of the Mulder Boys’s Birthday Bash, I find myself standing in front of my closet with the girls, frowning at my selection of dresses. “What about this one?” Holly fingers a yellow sundress.

“Nah, it’s pretty but she looks like she’s going to church in that one.” Sarah tugs on a dress with a daisy print on it.

“Are you joking? That one’s even more Virgin Mary than the yellow one!”

Alex reaches into my closet and pulls out a navy two-piece dress I bought on a whim a few years back, but have never worn since then. “How about this one?”

“A, that’s perfect! It’s classy, yet sexy, just what we’re going for!” Sarah shoves me towards my bathroom. “Go try it on, D! And wear those nude heels with it.” I take the dress out of Alex’s arms and the shoes from Sarah and change into the outfit quickly. The straps drape across my arms just below my shoulders and it’s low cut just enough for my comfort. My cross necklace gleams against my skin and I decide to keep it on for tonight. Since it’s a two-piece, there’s just a sliver of skin visible between the top and the skirt, which flares out and swishes around my knees.

Slipping on my heels I step outside and the girls gasp in unison. “Yes, that’s the one! How does it feel D?” Holly pulls me over and I twirl in front of the full-length mirror, smiling as the skirt billows out around my legs.

“It’s beautiful, I love it. Thanks, girls!”

“The Mulder boys won’t know what hit ‘em when you show up wearing that!” Sarah winks at me suggestively and I roll my eyes at her.

“You know exactly that that’s not why I’m wearing it!”

Now it’s Sarah’s turn to roll her eyes. “Yeah sure, just keep telling yourself that…”

“Come on guys, we’re already unfashionably late. I’ll just call us a cab, are you ready?”

I grab a shawl against the cold and my purse before we make our way downstairs to wait for the cab. When we arrive at the house, we can already hear faint party noises from the backyard and my heart’s beating hard against my chest when we walk up the front walkway to ring the doorbell. My gaze wanders around the front of the house, the glass veranda on the right catching my eye. It’s completely different from our beach house, but it’s beautiful all the same.

The door opens to reveal Principal Skinner with a glass of whiskey in his hand and he holds the door open for us. “Hello ladies, come on in! You look extraordinarily beautiful tonight! Follow me, the party’s out back in the yard.”

He leads us through the house and I notice that it’s got polished hardwood floors and is furnished with antiques, giving it a cozy feel. We walk past the glass veranda which houses the dining room on the right and the living room with a massive couch to the left, which opens into the kitchen. The wooden staircase to the first floor is tucked away in the back. Skinner points us to the bathroom as we walk past it before we step outside onto the back porch and my breath catches in my chest.

They really went all out on this party, there’s string lights twinkling all around the hedge and in the trees, catered food and a bar in one corner, round tables in the middle and a massive dancefloor with a DJ in the other corner. Holly whistles through her teeth. “Man, they sure know how to live it up. Why are our parties never this nice? Jesus, I think they invited half the town for this.”

“Well, that’s on me I guess, they don’t know many people around here yet so I figured it would be the perfect opportunity to make new acquaintances,” Principal Skinner admits but I’m only half listening because my eyes are too busy scanning the crowd. Sarah nudges my hip and tilts her head over to the bar and I’m embarrassed that she knows exactly who I was looking for. There he is, deep in conversation with Skinner’s wife, laughing at something she said.

He’s wearing a dark blue suit with a white dress shirt and a crimson tie and while the sight of him in a plain t-shirt with jeans are enough to make my heart skip a beat, him in that suit is going to give me a heart attack.

“Would you look at that D, you color coordinated, matchsiiiesss.” Holly whispers in my ear and I give her a pointed look.

“Shut up, Holly!” I hiss at her.

Just then, he looks over at us standing on the elevated porch and I can practically feel the slight burn his eyes leave as they travel up and down my body, giving me the once over. I hope he has a defibrillator. He flashes us a smile and raises his hand in a small wave, then continues his conversation with Arlene Skinner.

“Come on, girls, let’s put the presents on the gift table and get something to eat and drink.” ‘Eat, drink and be merry for today you may die.’

At the bar we sidestep the wine for now, since we haven’t eaten yet and I don’t want to embarrass myself by getting tipsy and stumbling over my heels. With my luck, I’ll just faceplant at a certain someone’s feet. ‘Huh, maybe he’ll catch me in those strong arms of his, though, if you’re really lucky…‘

When he spots our little circle, Felix comes over to us wearing a boy version of his dad’s suit, only with short dress pants and sneakers better suited for running around with the other kids. He’s tugging a tall woman along, with wavy brown hair and a kind face that seems somewhat familiar, but I’m not sure where to place her. His face is flushed and he beams at us happily.

“You came!”

“Of course we came, happy birthday Felix!” Sarah raises her glass to him and we all chime in with our Happy birthdays. The woman he came over with also raises her glass and ruffles his hair affectionately.

“This is my teacher Miss Anderson, and Miss Carter and Miss Spencer and Miss Scully,” he introduces us while the woman takes her turn shaking our hands. She regards me curiously and her lips curve into a smile.

“I’m Sam, Fox’s sister and Felix’s favorite aunt!” His sister, that’s why her face seemed so familiar. “So you’re the enigmatic Miss Scully I’ve heard so much about. It’s so nice to finally meet you!” She notices the surprised look on my face. “Only good things, I promise. Felix won’t shut up about you when we talk on the phone.” I laugh, mostly because of the exasperated look Felix gives his aunt at revealing his secret.

“Glad to hear it, we’re having a lot of fun with him during recess! Nice to meet you, Sam. I really like your dress, did you get it around here?”

“Thanks, but no, I got it back in LA, I’m only visiting for a couple of days, I just couldn’t miss my two handsome boys’s birthday bash!”

“Handsome, huh? You spoil me sis!” Her brother has snuck up behind her, throwing his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side and planting a kiss on her cheek. “Hi ladies, thanks for coming, you look very lovely today!” We raise our glasses to him as well, wishing him a happy birthday and my drink spills over a little in my shaky hand. I pray that no one notices.

“Sam I’m so sorry to drag you away, but can you help me out and check if everything’s alright with the caterers?” They excuse themselves and we decide it’s time for us to check out what said caterers have prepared, our stomachs already rumbling. Hopefully, the butterflies in my stomach will make room.

----------

[ Sam ]

After checking with the caterers inside, I return to the party, standing on the back porch to watch everyone have a good time and I’m secretly a little proud of myself. Planning the party from all the way across the country had been stressful to say the least, but it turned out great. My gaze wanders around the tables and it catches on the tiny red-head and her three friends, who seem to be having a great time, laughing and chatting at their table.

I’ve heard many stories from Felix over the last few weeks but what surprised me the most was the way my brother looks at her. When I saw the way his whole face lit up when she walked in, I realized that Felix was not the only one taken with Miss Scully. She’s not his usual type - not that she’s not pretty, she is, very much so - but she’s actually nice. A vast improvement from the piece of work that’s his ex-wife, let me tell you. I wonder if he’s thought about asking her out yet.

----------

[ DS ]

After dinner, we’re treated to another visit from the little Mulder, who’s breathless from the game of tag with his friends. “Hey Felix! Are you having a good time?” He nods enthusiastically, trying hard to catch his breath.

“Yeah, auntie Sam did a really good job! I can’t wait for my cake, she said it’s really huuuge! And the DJ is playing aaaall my favorite songs, too!”

Suddenly shy, he shuffles his feet a bit and then, gathering all his courage, he looks up at me and holds out a tiny hand. “Miss Scully, will you dance with me?”

“Of course, birthday boy, come on.”

----------

[ Sam ]

Once I’m finished making another round of checking that everything’s running smoothly, I spot my brother standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching the party. Stopping on the last step, I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my chin on his shoulder. “Great party, huh?”

“Yeah, you did a pretty good job sis. And Skinner’s managed to gather up quite a crowd. Almost everyone’s here tonight!”

“You know what I think? You’d be just as happy if it were only you and one other special guest here tonight.” He turns his head a little, frowning.

“What?” I motion my head to the woman who’s currently talking to Felix at her table. “Aah. Is it that obvious?” I snort derisively

“Are you kidding me, bro? I’ve known you all my life, I can see the hearts in your eyes from a mile down the road. Have you asked her out yet?”

“No… I’m so nervous around her I can barely string more than a few coherent words together. She probably thinks I’m a huge idiot. I asked her if she believes in aliens, Sam!” We watch as Felix holds his hand out to her, asking her to dance with him. He’s so cute I can barely stand it.

“I’m sure that’s not true. You should take a page out of your son’s book though, boy’s got game!” My brother laughs as the somewhat mismatched pair sways on the dancefloor.

I release him from my embrace, an idea popping into my head. “You should go and cut in.” Now he fully turns to me and looks at me like I’m crazy.

“What? No…” He’s making his panic face.

“What yes! Carpe diem, right now!” I give him a gentle shove in the direction of the dancefloor. “Go! I’ll handle the music.”

----------

[ DS ]

Of course, I can’t say no to the little charmer and we make our way to the dancefloor and I sway with Felix in time to the music, twirling him around until he giggles.

“You look really handsome tonight, Felix!”

He smiles shyly and narrowly avoids stepping on my shoes. “Thank you! You look really beautiful too.”

“You’re absolutely right, son. Mind if I cut in?” A tingle shoots up my spine at the sound of his voice and Felix nods, stepping back. His dad holds out his hand to me. “A dance for the other birthday boy?”

“Well technically, it’s not your birthday for a few days.” I tease him, but I slip my hand into his and he spins me against him, wrapping his right arm around my waist, clasping my left hand in his tightly. The DJ fades into a new song and I groan inwardly as Sonny and Cher’s “I got you babe!” starts droning from the speakers. We sway for a few beats before he whips me across the dancefloor in a quick waltz. Over his shoulder I can see countless pairs of eyes following us but for once, tonight, I don’t care because all I can feel is the burn of his fingers resting on the sliver of exposed skin of my waist and the tickle of the hair at the back of his neck against my hand. God, this guy can waltz.

On the last few notes, he twirls me out with a grin on his face, tugging on my hand to bring me back in and then he dips me back for the grand finale. Dips me. The move takes me by surprise and I laugh, breathless when he brings me upright again.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to dip your lady in a waltz!” I realize my Freudian slip a fraction of a second too late. ‘Your lady? What the heck, Dana.’

He just shrugs nonchalantly, still grinning. “If I fancy to dip my lady, I will dip my lady! Thank you for this dance, Miss Scully!” He bows his head and I chuckle, curtsying. “The pleasure was all mine, Mr. Mulder!” ‘Who ARE you?’

We step off the dancefloor and I return to our table, sitting down still a little bit out of breath, only to be met with three incredulous stares. ‘Here we go, 3, 2, 1…’

“What was that, D?” Holly.

“Oh my God, the two of you on the dancefloor!” Sarah.

“That was incredible!” Alex.

I shrug, picking up my glass, but I can’t hide the blush on my face and smile around my straw. “Mr. Mulder can waltz.” I’ll never live this down.

Sometime after the birthday cakes came out, Felix appears at my side again and leans against me heavily. I can tell he’s coming down from his sugar-high. “Miss Scully, remember how I told you about the encyclopedia on butterflies?”

“Yeah I do, what about it?”

“Would you like to see it?” He looks up at me hopefully and I agree, glad to get away from the action for a while.

“Okay, come on!” Together we climb the steps to the back porch and he tugs me inside into the living room where we sit down on the couch. I can finally slip off my heels while Felix runs to get the encyclopedia and after returning, places it on my lap curling up into my side. He opens the heavy book and shows me his favorite butterflies, explaining in great detail what’s so special about it.

His voice gets more and more quiet with each new butterfly until he stops talking altogether and looking down I realize that he fell asleep, completely wiped. Coming off my own sugar high, I scoot down lower into the cushions and lean my head back against the back, closing my eyes. Just for a second.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Chapter 12

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

From: fmulder@fbi.gov

Sent: July 15, 1996 9:06am

To: dscully@fbi.gov

Subject: This weekend

Hey,

It was good to run into you yesterday. Your sister seems nice. Is she older or younger? I remember you said you had three siblings; where do you fall in there?

Let me know if you can come by this weekend. Priscilla promises to provide a better beverage selection this time. She was unimpressed with my hosting abilities.

From: dscully@fbi.gov

Sent: July 15, 1996 10:23am

To: fmulder@fbi.gov

Subject: RE:This weekend

Hi,

I was surprised to see you in Georgetown again, what brought you by? Not your drug dealer again, I presume (disclaimer to anyone reading this that it’s a joke). I’m the third of four; Missy is two years older than me. Our oldest brother is Bill and little brother is Charlie. Do you have other siblings, aside from the sister you told me about?

As for this weekend, I’m free in the evening on Saturday. I had the thought, though, that it’s perhaps not appropriate for us to be spending time alone at your apartment. Not that I think you have or would behave inappropriately in any way, just for propriety’s sake. Sorry if that seems old fashioned. Maybe we can get dinner? Send my regrets to Priscilla.

From: fmulder@fbi.gov

Sent: July 15, 1996 4:45pm

To: dscully@fbi.gov

Subject: RE:RE:This weekend

Given the later half of your email, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to admit that I went by that coffee shop hoping to see you there again. So let’s just say it was indeed to pay a visit to my dealer.

Nope, Samantha was my only sibling. Mom and Dad divorced after she disappeared. It was far from a Hallmark movie, but I turned out okay (I think).

Scully, if you don’t trust yourself around me behind closed doors, all you have to do is say so. Jokes aside, I can respect that. I actually have an idea of something we could do that is very public and not at all inappropriate. Will you trust me if I tell you it’s a surprise?

From: dscully@fbi.gov

Sent: July 16, 1996 9:36am

To: fmulder@fbi.gov

Subject: RE:RE:RE:This weekend

I go by that coffee shop most Sundays, sometimes with my sister or mom, sometimes alone. I’m not sure what your dealer’s typical hours of operation are, but I tend to be there around noon. For future reference.

I’m sorry to hear about your parents. I would say you turned out pretty well, but then again I hardly know you.

I will trust you with a mystery public outing so long as you let me know what to dress for and also if there will be food involved. Something you should know about me; if you don’t feed me I turn into a Gremlin.

From: fmulder@fbi.gov

Sent: July 17, 1996 8:56am

To: dscully@fbi.gov

Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:This weekend

Hey, sorry I never got back to you yesterday. I won’t bore you with the details, but suffice to say that criminal profilers are not immune to workplace drama.

As luck would have it, my dealer runs a blue light special at 11:30 am on Sundays, so I tend to be in the neighborhood around that time. A stunning coincidence.

I think you know me better than the vast majority of the people I interact with at this point, save for a select few. I’m not sure if that speaks as much to the fact that I like hanging out with you as it does to the fact that I don’t have many friends. My spooky reputation tends to scare people off, but I’m not exactly crying in my cornflakes over it.

I wouldn’t want you to turn into a Gremlin on me, so refreshments will be provided. Wear something you can move in, definitely not a dress or heels (it pains me to say this). Can I pick you up at 5:00?

From: dscully@fbi.gov

Sent: July 17,1996 2:31pm

To: fmulder@fbi.gov

Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:This weekend

Workplace drama knows no bounds. I’ve been getting the silent treatment from one of the other pathologists because I questioned whether they’d calibrated the scale before weighing internal organs.

I think you’re overestimating how well I know you, Mulder. I know next to nothing about you, outside your interest in the paranormal and a bit about your childhood.

I’m resisting the urge to ask what you have planned. Why don’t we meet somewhere? If you’re taking me UFO sighting...we better see a UFO is all I’m saying.

From: fmulder@fbi.gov

Sent: July 18, 1996 9:10am

To: dscully@fbi.gov

Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:The weekend

I want to make a comment on the fact that weighing internal organs is part of your job description, but I spent an hour today debating whether someone sticking pencils in their victim’s eyes is some kind of Freudian penis envy thing.

You know more about me than you think, Scully. You know I’m a cat person, and that I have terrible taste in beer. Also that I like Radiohead and am not beneath asking a woman out while she’s trying to do her job. I’ll offer you a bonus fact, or more accurately a confession: I didn’t really need to come down to Quantico last week when we had coffee. I just wanted to get coffee with you. Don’t tell my boss.

Now you have to tell me something about yourself. It’s only fair.

If there were any good places to spot UFOs around here, I’d take you in a heartbeat. If you’re ever up for a road trip out west, let me know. Washington State is a hotbed of UFO activity. Plus they have really good coffee.

Can you meet me at the Hoover building? I’ll drive us from there.

From: dscully@fbi.gov

Sent: July 18, 1996 1:19pm

To: fmulder@fbi.gov

Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:This weekend

So what was the verdict on the pencil/penis eyeball situation? Fruedian or no?

I’m touched that you’d go so far as insubordination to have coffee with me, however I hope you won’t make a habit of it. Next time you come down here I’ll have to email your boss and ask him if you got permission to come out and play.

Something about me...I like to read a lot. I think I’d say Jane Eyre is my favorite book of all time (not that you asked). I’m also addicted to bubble baths. Actually, reading Jane Eyre IN a bubble bath is pretty much my idea of heaven (ideally with a glass of wine).

I’ve been to Seattle once. Too much rain, though it was very green and pretty. Isn’t that where Bigfoot lives?

I’ll meet you at the Hoover building on Saturday at 5, wearing my very best ball gown and stiletto heels.

From: fmulder@fbi.gov

Sent: July 19, 1996 8:13am

To: dscully@fbi.gov

Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:This weekend

No verdict will be reached unless and until we catch the guy and have occasion to ask him if he was using his pencils as...pencils. Profiles are all theory, which can be both interesting and frustrating.

I wouldn’t advise you to contact my AD, he’s kind of a dick. I’ll ask him to write a note excusing me from work next time.

Jane Eyre? I wouldn’t have expected that from you. It’s a very romantic book, and entirely centered around two people who never should have worked as a couple coming together despite numerous obstacles. Is that something you’re into?

You get 95 points for knowing that Bigfoot lives in Washington (you lost 5 for calling him Bigfoot; he’s known as Sasquatch out there). My dream vacation is lurking around the forests of the Pacific Northwest, Squatchin’.

It’s a date.

From: dscully@fbi.gov

Sent: July 19, 1996 3:46pm

To: fmulder@fbi.gov

Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:This weekend

Don’t ruin my favorite book by overanalyzing it, Mulder. If you’d like to trash Wuthering Heights, be my guest. I pledge my allegiance to Charlotte.

Your dream vacation sounds like it might end in death from exposure, or perhaps a good old fashioned bear mauling, but who am I to tell you how to spend your paid leave?

See you tomorrow, at 5. And it’s not a date.

From: fmulder@fbi.gov

Sent: July 19, 1996 6:55pm

To: dscully@fbi.gov

Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:This weekend

I would always rather be happy than dignified.

(A little Charlotte to arrive to on Monday)

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Audrey Roget

Audrey Roget has 10 fics at Gossamer, with some different ones at AO3, fanfiction.net, and her website. You might know her from her very good fics or as part of Musea, a collective that all wrote fic and posted X-Files fic recs. I’ve recced some of my favorites of her stories here before, including Three Times Dana Scully Didn’t Go to San Diego for Christmas and The Shirt. Big thanks to Audrey for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)? A little, yes. Not so much by folks who were around in those days. I sometimes go hunting for beloved stories from the early years, both those I read and loved, and those I never got around to. I am always delighted to hear that later generations of fans have stumbled across my stuff, especially since I haven’t posted anything new in a number of years. It’s fantastic that both years-long fans and new ones are out there continuing to rec fic from all eras, and to maintain archives for fans yet-to-be born. What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it? What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general? It may sound corny, but the main thing I think of, and the thing that has ultimately been most valuable and lasting, has been the friendships. The feeling of having found a tribe – not just of TXF fans, but of other people who could be as enthusiastically engaged as I was (if not more so) with fictional stories and characters – was mind-blowing. Since I was a kid, I had often mulled over the books/movies/TV I loved and speculated internally about what happened off the page or off-screen, or created new stories for characters in my head. But, except for an elementary school phase where I and my two BFFs regularly played Charlie’s Angels, I hadn’t engaged in that kind of gleeful immersion in a fictional world with others until TXF fandom. My involvement in fandom followed pretty quickly from getting hooked on the show, so for me, it’s all one big ball of experiences. Even as my interest in/involvement in fandom has waxed and waned over the years, I’ve been lucky to remain friends with wonderful people who I originally connected with as fellow fans.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)? What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

My initial entrée to the fandom was through fanfiction. I didn’t get interested in the show until mid-season 5. Around the same time, I read an article in a zine called Might (co-founded by Dave Eggers) about this thing called fanfiction that people would write and publish online. At first I thought it was satire or a joke – the fic cited involved Wilma Flintstone and a polished sabre tooth, as I recall – but then realized this was an actual thing. So I figured that a show then at the peak of pop culture must have fanfiction, and I went looking. Early on, I scrolled atxc on a daily basis and downloaded stories. But I didn’t engage in discussions about the show on Usenet, since I only knew how to access it with my Earthlink email client, and I didn’t want to post using my real name.

Later, I set up a pseud address with Yahoo and subscribed to a couple of email fanfic/discussion lists, and stayed subscribed to those for years. There was also a period in there somewhere – of maybe only a year or so, when I think about it – when I’d often nerd out into the wee hours with other fans via IM chat groups. That was around the time the small writers’ collective Musea was founded, and we were active for several years after the show’s initial run. In the early aughts, I followed many authors to LiveJournal and eventually set up my own account and stayed involved in fandom that way, until it mostly dispersed as well. What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show? In a word: Chemistry. I had casually watched a couple of episodes during the first four seasons, but I’m not a huge sci-fi/horror fan at heart, and the story lines didn’t immediately grab me. But I happened to tune into The Red and the Black in 1998, and BOOM. For the first time, the intense layers of emotion and attraction between Mulder and Scully really struck me – and then of course, upon further viewing, I realized it was unmissable, an essential element in the fabric of the show. As a wise woman once said, a switch had been flicked. Mulder and Scully’s magnetism was like nothing I’d ever seen, and though I eventually came to appreciate the storytelling, humor, production values, and other components that made the series so successful, watching those characters interact has always been what kept me coming back. Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files? I was part of a list-serv discussion group for The West Wing for a while, which was a fun melding of character and plot analysis with political discussion. Later, I got into the House, MD fandom, again mostly as a fanfic reader/writer. I was finding that other fandoms, unlike TXF, were more dispersed, the networks of people structured more loosely, if at all. There were fanfic and discussion communities on LiveJournal, and fanfiction.net was the other main hub for posting and reading, but if there was anything centralized like Gossamer, Ephemeral, or the Haven, I never found it. Within all those fan communities, as in TXF, there were partisans for various characters and pairings, and flame wars erupted over plot developments that outraged this faction or that. One main difference was that those other shows had larger, ensemble casts and more varied subplots. So on one hand, there was more opportunity to explore back stories and multiple perspectives. In House MD in particular, there were several entrenched rival shipper camps, which were about equally grounded in canon, rather than TXF’s central ship. I was less into TWW fic, but my impression was that readers were less militant about their pairing preferences than TXF or House fans. Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

I was deeply fascinated by Greg House for several years. (And the love-hate chemistry between him and Lisa Cuddy was a strong draw for me.) House MD came early in a wave of TV shows centered on anti-heroes, and Hugh Laurie brought amazing complexity and thoughtfulness to the character.

Philip and Elizabeth Jennings (The Americans) are a lethal pair of antiheroes. The inherent moral conflict of a sympathetic narrative from their POVs, and the global political conflict they embody was TV catnip for me. The internal struggles at the hearts of those characters were so exquisitely written and performed, they completely fascinate me.

The West Wing felt so much like a show created specifically for me. I’m especially fond of story arcs and scenes that centered on CJ Cregg, Charlie Young, and Josh Lyman. Though I loved Martin Sheen’s human portrayal of Jed Bartlet, the fact that he was the President always made him a little untouchable in my mind. But CJ, Charlie, and Josh were basically hard-working functionaries who were ambitious and idealistic and funny and flawed, and they spoke to me. What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom? Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully? Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I do continue to think about Mulder and Scully and watch episodes somewhat often. I’ll sometimes run a favorite episode as background when I want something comforting on. I read TXF fic pretty regularly, which can inspire me to go back and watch a particular episode or story arc I haven’t thought about in years. Just recently, I started listening to The X-Files Diaries podcast (@XFDPodcast, @admiralty-xfd), and that’s a fun dive into the characters, and how other fans react to and interpret episodes.

Every once in a while, a TV show or movie – and more particularly, the characters – will grab my attention and make me curious about how fanfic writers have interpreted the original material. Random example, I saw Singin’ in the Rain for the first time in a theatre a couple of years ago, and the chemistry of the three leads sent me to AO3 as soon as I got home. I also loved the first season of Mercy Street and found some well-done stories in that fandom. I usually peruse the Yuletide gifts every year and have been amazed by the sheer variety, creativity and cheekiness of the output. There are a bunch of other shows I’ve followed faithfully, and sought out fanfic – Broadchurch, The Killing, Agents of SHIELD, Elementary, The Good Wife. Although I’ve found some well-written stuff in those fandoms, I’ve rarely gotten the same charge from them as reading TXF fic. Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

syntax6 (@syntax6) – Universal Invariants/Laws of Motion. I’d also shout out to syn’s Hunter fics, too – well worth reading even for those who have never seen or particularly loved the show itself.

JET – I re-read Small Lives Awake every year around Thanksgiving time. Other annual holiday re-reads: Revely’s The Dreaming Sea and Jordan’s Through the Fire (both set at Halloween).

Amal Nahurriyeh’s Casey universe – the rare post-col fic that felt hopeful, made extra intriguing by a kick-ass original character. [Lilydale note: the series starts with Machines of Freedom and has lots of additional fics and snippets.]

Prufrock’s Love – Finding Rokovoko was genuinely terrifying and tender.

melforbes (@melforbes) – Seaglass Blue is a recent favorite, lyrical and bittersweet.

These are just a few (apologies to those that didn’t come to mind immediately). Fortunately for readers, there’s an astonishing number of authors who have written in TXF fandom whom you can depend on for a good yarn, insightful character study, and/or ingenious “fixes” where 1013 went awry.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Probably the two set in my own (former) backyard of Southern California: Enivrez-vous and Ravenous. I’d first read the Baudelaire poem that was the source of the former’s title back in university days, so I was tickled to be able to use a few lines as an epigraph. Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online? It’s not out of the realm possibility. I’d meant for “Three Times Dana Scully Didn’t Go to San Diego for Christmas” to be followed up with “And One Time She Did.” In fact, the idea for that never-finished story was what inspired “Three Times” in the first place. I have a couple of scenes sketched out and – unusually for me – even know exactly how to end it. Every year, November rolls around, and I think I should finish and post it…maybe in 2021?

Where do you get ideas for stories? Sometimes it’s from my environment. “Enivrez-vous” and “Ravenous” describe places that I’m fond of, that made me want to place Mulder and Scully there. “What Not to Wear” has that element too – I set it in Memphis as a tribute to a great trip there with a sister Musean. But WNTW was also inspired by a kink challenge in a years-ago LiveJournal thread, so sometimes ideas come from fandom discussions or even other fanfics. In the House MD fandom, a fic by another writer made me want to continue the story, and the author kindly allowed an authorized sequel. What's the story behind your pen name? I wanted my pseudonym to sound like it could be a real person’s name – or at least, maybe like a romance writer’s pen name – rather than an online handle. I also wanted to use a slightly obscure fictional character, to amuse anyone in the know. I had long had a bit of an obsession with Whit Stillman’s 1990s film trilogy, which started with Metropolitan; the 3rd installment, Last Days of Disco, came out the same year I started down the TXF rabbit hole: 1998. The central heroine of Metropolitan – who is mentioned in or makes a cameo in the other two – is Audrey Rouget, a lover of Austen and, eventually, a book editor. I altered the spelling of the last name as a nod to every writer’s companion, Roget’s Thesaurus. Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions? I have a few close friends – from outside TXF fandom – who know that I’ve written fanfic. I don’t know if they know my pseud; if they do, or if they’ve ready any of the fic, they haven’t said so to me. They are fannish sorts themselves, but not really TXF fans. A smattering of other friends and family members know or could intuit that I’ve been a fangrl on some level for years. My boss, whom I’ve known for about 3 years, recently mentioned off-handedly that she was really obsessed with TXF “back in the day,” and I am DYING to know if she got involved in fandom, but don’t think I’ll ever work up the courage to ask.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now? Most of the X-Files stuff continues to be generously and steadfastly archived by Forte at The Basement Office. The House MD stories and some TXF things are at fanfiction.net; same for AO3. If ever post anything new, it will probably go to TBO and AO3. I really ought to get it all together in one place, one of these days…

(Posted by Lilydale on April 6, 2021)

[scullydubois]

Only the Light Ch. 20

20/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: mid-s3 (canon-divergent) | T | 4.7k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic <3

I now present to you a chapter that is filled with more angst than Chris Carter could ever dream of, and for that, I am truly sorry. 

Scully and Mulder's foray into domesticity with Emily is interrupted by the past catching up to them. Faced with despair, they cling even tighter to each other.

--------------------------------

Scully is granted maternity leave, though it’s only for two weeks, which Missy let her know is “a piss-poor bargain.” And she knows this is true, but she also has more incentive to stay at her job than ever, so she’d like not to lose it. The fact that advocating for herself and her child would mean risking her job is a mess in itself, but one lone woman can’t be expected to take down the patriarchy, and besides, she’s already tried and failed. 

As for she and Mulder, they hide their flirtation in plain sight. Mulder’s perpetually present in body or spirit, but his behavior never reveals anything more than it did before. Every morning he swings by to say hi, brings Scully coffee and a bagel with full-fat cream cheese, and checks if Emily’s picked up any new words. Personally, he’s working on “alien” and if you ask him, she’ll get it soon. She knows that it refers to her UFO stuffie, so sounding out the letters can’t be far behind, much to her mother’s dismay.

On Wednesday of the first week, he shows up at 6pm with takeout carbonara from a local Italian joint. His presence makes every Scully girl happy, but it makes one in particular the happiest, and Melissa realizes that there are definitely things her sister has failed to mention. She doesn’t question it, but watches with glee as the situation unfolds. 

After that first night, Mulder keeps coming back with dinner and refuses to let either sister shoulder the cost. On Friday, he stays for a movie too and gets to participate in Emily’s nightly tucking-in ritual (a tickle on the left foot, a tickle on the right foot, and a big smooch on the forehead). 

Saturday afternoon, he joins them for a stroller push through the park, earning some serious side-eye from Scully when he suggests that they stop at the playground because, according to the mama bear, “Em can only take six steps at a time, Mulder.” So instead they buy hotdogs from a vendor and eat them on a bench, Emily sandwiched between her mother, her aunt, and her...Mulder. They couldn’t ask for more.

That night, Mulder hangs around after dinner because what else is he gonna do? Go home and watch old baseball games until he falls asleep? A new leaf has been offered to him, and he’s gotta turn it. 

He’s baffled when, upon announcing that it’s Emily’s bathtime, Scully goes to the kitchen and switches on the sink. 

Scully raises an eyebrow at him. “What, your mother never washed you in the sink when you were a baby?” 

“Not that I know of...I have a hard time envisioning myself ever fitting in a sink.”

Scully scoffs. “I forget. You were a Vineyard boy.” 

Before he can come up with a smart response to that (as if there actually is one), Missy pipes up. “Oh, I bet you were the kid that took baths with your mother,” she teases. “Care to confirm or deny?”

“If I did I blocked it out of memory, thank god,” he testifies. 

Having spread a towel on the counter, Scully strips Emily down and perches the girl on her hip. She sticks her hand under the faucet. 

“That’s not too hot, do you think?” she asks Missy, who tests it as well.

“That should be fine.”

Mulder joins in too, and immediately regrets it. He shrinks away from the water, shaking droplets all over the room. “Jesus, Scully! Are you trying to boil her?”

“Babies lose heat quickly because of their body surface to weight ratio,” she says matter-of-factly. “They’re more susceptible to the cold.”

“I think the cold will be the least of her worries,” Mulder quips.

“If you really think it’s too hot, I’ll turn it down…” There’s a concerned crease beneath her eyes, and it makes Mulder feel bad about his joking.

“No, no, you know what you’re doing,” he assures her. “You’re her mother.”

As she lowers Em into the sink, Scully’s heart twinges. Her. A mother. How many times will she have to hear this before it stops feeling like news to her? 

One week and bathtime has already become routine. Missy fills a plastic cup and pours it gently over her niece, the water cascading down Em like she is nature’s own. Scully soaps her palms, then glides over her daughter’s skin with such care that its memory may blight any future affection Em is graced with. And then another waterfall, and the gentle brush of a wash cloth against eyes and nose. 

Scully squeezes a penny’s worth of baby shampoo into her hand, looks to Mulder. “Come on, get in here. You’re not afraid to get your hands dirty, are you?” she says with a smirk.

He smirks back and shakes his head as she lifts his open palm and shrinks her accumulation to a dime. “Although, technically I am getting my hands cleaner…”

She boops him right on the nose with a shampooed finger. He laughs.

Missy smiles. Oh, to see destiny play out right in front of you. “Someone’s cracking dad jokes,” she points out, unable to resist. This observation is much too on-the-nose for the pair (quite literally for Mulder), who simultaneously blush but say nothing.

Mulder wipes the shampoo from his nose and plants it on Emily’s head, joining his partner in making soapy circles over the girl’s tuft of strawberry hair. Scully’s full attention is directed toward her daughter. As soon as the lather is sufficient, she dons the lifted lilt of motherhood. “Okay, time to rinse! Missy, will you do the honors?”

Missy turns the faucet, fills the cup, and lets it flow over Emily. Mulder and Scully wash their hands off in the stream. 

And as Scully leans for the towel, a splash of red dirties its fresh white surface. Mulder notices it first. He points at his partner’s porcelain face. “Scully, you’re bleeding.”

Her hand shoots to her nose. Sure enough, it stains her fingers. “Shit.” She turns away, goes for a tissue. “I haven’t had nosebleeds since I was fourteen,” she tells them, as if that invalidates this one. She wipes away a glob of blood, her stomach turning. “Missy--” her voice shakes involuntarily, “--will you dry Em off?”

“Uh-huh.” She nudges Mulder. “Will you grab a new towel from the linen closet?” she whispers, not wanting to further upset her sister.

Mulder goes off without a word, and Missy squeezes out Em’s hair as best she can. “What a pretty girl!” she gushes. “All clean!”

“Yee!” Emily throws her little fists in the air, injecting joy back into the room. 

“Time to put your PJs on, and get a tickle, tickle, smooch.”

Mulder scrambles back in with a new towel, skirting around Scully, who remains occupied with her own situation. He slides the soiled towel away and helps Missy swaddle Em. Mulder ruffles the little girl’s hair, and she laughs like a music box. 

“Mol-dy.” She spits it out in halves, as if she’s been rehearsing. 

Mulder’s eyes water with recognition. “Mulder? Mul-der? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Moldy,” the girl declares again, certain of herself.

Missy adjusts Em on her hip, smiles at Mulder. “Looks like you’re Moldy now.”

Mulder bites his lip to hide his overwhelming delight. “Yeah, I...I never thought I'd be so happy to be called moldy.”

Next thing he knows, Scully is at his shoulder with a tissue stuffed up her nostrils. “Wait, what’s going on?”

“Em called me Moldy,” he tells her, full of satisfaction.

“Oh.” It comes out relatively unimpressed, but really, she’s just distracted. “Missy, will you get a diaper on her before there’s an accident? I would but I’m still--” She gestures to her nose. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Missy smiles at the baby in her arms. “PJ time, Em!” They go off toward the bedroom, a happy pair.

As soon as Em is out of sight, Mulder spirals toward his partner, panic-stricken. The glee of moments ago has evaporated. 

“Are you okay?” He touches her hair, shoulders, and the familiar small of her back, unsure of where he should land. 

“I’m fine, it’s fine.” Her grip on his elbows--keeping his hands firmly placed on her waistline--suggests otherwise. 

“You’ve got to see a doctor,” he pleads. “This could be...”

“This could be what, Mulder?” The steel in her blue eyes is a death grip. She’s never liked being told the obvious. 

“Scully…” He sighs, rubs his neck, wills her to say what they both know. When she doesn’t, he takes his hands off her and wrings them together. “The Mufon women...they said it would happen to all of them eventually.” He’s careful not to lump Scully in with their group. 

“And what do they know?” she retorts. “One of them was sick. One.”

“Okay, well, don’t you think it’s better to be safe than sorry?” he reasons. “You have Emily to look out for now.”

Scully rolls her eyes. “Don’t guilt trip me. It’s a nosebleed. Those happen all the time for completely benign reasons.”

“Yeah, but they don’t happen to you. You just said--you haven’t had one since you were fourteen.”

She clenches her jaw. He’s right, and she’s playing the fool. His position is the one she would take if this were anyone other than herself. She’s gonna have to lose this fight with as much grace as possible.

“Fine. I’ll get it checked out, but they’re gonna think I’m insane for coming in because of one nosebleed.”

“That’s a nice change of pace--you being the insane one for once.”

“Well, you’re the one who wants me to go, so you’re not out of the woods.”

“Good, I’ve finally got some company!”

Scully smiles in spite of herself. “Yes, yes you do.”

--------------------------------------

It happens very quickly, as most calamities of life can be said to. This gives it the unreal quality of a nightmare that might soon be woken up from, if there is any justice in the world.

Scully snags a doctor’s appointment for three days after the initial nosebleed. By the time she walks into the waiting room, one nosebleed has quadrupled into four, and her minor concern has snowballed into abject terror. 

Margaret Scully drove into the city to watch Emily so Missy could join her sister. Scully insisted that she would go alone, but Missy wouldn’t accept this. She threatened to tell Mulder the details of the appointment if Dana didn’t let her go, and that was enough to earn her a spot in the passenger seat. Scully can’t take the thought of Mulder witnessing the worst--let alone her reaction to the worst. 

And so it goes something like this: they are taken to an exam room, at which point Scully explains her situation to a nurse, including that she has recently learned she is at high risk for cancer. The nurse assures her that such a diagnosis is highly unlikely, but makes a note for the doctor. The doctor comes in with knitted eyebrows and listens to Scully describe the aftermath of her abduction experience with a heavy emphasis on the convoluted but substantial claims of the Mufon women. She asks if Scully has had any other symptoms, to which Scully replies that it’s hard to tell because she has an infant in the house and thus, a marked lack of sleep. 

The doctor laughs, but it’s not a haha laugh, more of an I feel your pain. She agrees that the women’s claims are concerning, but tells her patient not to fret. They’ll take all the precautions, run any test that might assuage her worries. There’s a quip about how it’ll be on the government’s dime since it covers Scully’s insurance, and then the doctor leaves to order an MRI. 

A full body MRI, which Scully has never had, and which she hoped she would never require. There’s no deeper sickness than one that cannot be pinpointed, and no greater fear than of the unknown turning into the worst case scenario. 

The MRI is completed that same day. As she slides into the machine, Scully thinks of Betsy Hagopian and wonders how she’s doing. It has been many months since she stood outside an exam room and watched Betsy enter one of these. Has fate been kind to her?

For a few minutes, her world is limited to the mere inches between her face and this life-saving yet life-ruining contraption. It is noisy and sometimes bright and altogether disorientating. She is glad when it’s over. 

The images return almost immediately, and maybe it would all have been okay if Scully weren’t trained in radiology herself, if she wasn’t able to recognize the glaring speck of light in her nasal cavity for what it is. But that one glance is all she needs to know that waiting by the phone isn’t an option. 

“It’s a tumor, isn’t it?” she blurts as the radiologist tries to escort her and Melissa from the room. “In the nasal cavity. I have a M.D. I saw.”

“Your doctor will call with the results,” the radiologist insists, standing by the open doorway.

“No, no, you can’t do this to me,” Scully sputters. “I know what I saw, and I don’t have any time to waste.” Her eye twitches in a combination of stress and anger. “I have an infant daughter.”

The radiologist sighs, pity on top of pity. “Perhaps your doctor will talk it through with you now.”

“Yes. Please.”

And it is talked through, though there’s no need to make it complicated: nasopharyngeal carcinoma. Inoperable, and just barely in the realm of treatable. That’s the kicker, the coyote in the pasture, the cloud covering the sun. In the words of Scully’s doctor, it is auspiciously rare. And in Scully’s brain, it is the bottom she’s been expecting to drop out from under since she held her daughter in her arms.

Melissa drives home. The sisters cannot fathom how they will tell their mother. Cannot fathom ruining her blissful time with the granddaughter she’s just met. When they turn onto their street, Scully swallows hard and coughs on her own spit. “Will you do something for me?” 

Missy looks over, eager to do anything she can, yet terrified by the possibility of the request.

“Will you take me to Mulder’s?” Scully mumbles. “I would just take the car but...I can’t face mom right now. I don’t want to risk it.”

Missy bites her lip. “And what am I supposed to tell mom when she asks where you are?”

“The truth,” Scully says curtly. “She doesn’t need the backstory.”

Missy drives past their building, though she’s not completely sold on her sister’s reasoning. “Don’t you think she might wonder why you aren’t coming home to your daughter?”

“I know she’ll wonder, Melissa, I know all of this,” Scully snaps because she needs to. “I don’t care.”

“Okay.” Missy’s voice is barely perceptible. I don’t care; she knows how low her sister has to be to say those words. 

They complete the drive in silence, Scully biting her nails--a habit which she has never possessed, and perhaps just acquired. The car idles as Missy pulls up to the curb of Mulder’s building. 

“I can pick you up when you need it,” she tells her sister as she pulls herself out of the car. “I’ll bring Em.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Scully says, closing the passenger door and edging toward the building. Missy hears a thanks float toward the car, then her sister is gone like a teenage girl embarrassed by her mother.

-------------------------------------

They sit on Mulder’s couch, muted. Words cannot fathom the injustice of this situation, nor can they suffice as empathy. Their hands are clasped together, a throughline of strength between them. This is what they need now; the most primitive language of all.

Scully’s watery eyes brush Mulder’s face. His own eyes, more pained than usual, look into hers. Without a word, she drapes an arm around her partner’s shoulders and scoots into his lap. He is surprised but not distressed. What else is left for them, now?

She is tiny, so tiny. And she is his. 

Their eyes meet once again, speaking in tongues. Scully nods, and then Mulder does too. This is it. This is it.

Permission granted at last, Scully’s lips travel to her partner’s jawline. The first time her lips have touched his body, and this is where they go. She is a constant box of wonders, a fortune he can never predict. Her lips are much like he has fantasized they would be: wondrously soft and silky, stroking him like they have always meant to be there. Yet he couldn’t have imagined the urgency with which they burrow into his skin. As if she’s making a mental map of his bone structure. He never expected that she would want him this much. 

His hands find her hips and grip the cotton of her shirt between his fingers. It is enough to tear her away from his flesh. Mission accomplished. His breath travels past her ear, hitting her neck. It is shallow and warm as he breathes her name. Her real name, the one her family calls her. She breathes his own back to him, like a bird responding to a mating call.

She feels his lips on her neck, wet and aching. It feels like God. This is the most blasphemous thought she has ever had. She throws her head back, exposing the whole of her skin to him. What is holiness, if not this moment?

He showers her in tattoo kisses, and she lets him, she lets him, she lets him. This is not just what she wants, but what she needs. No one will save her now, she knows this. So she has decided not to be saved. 

Her shirt ripples as he clutches it. “May I?” He is breathy, awe-struck. 

“Only if I can do the same.” Always about equality, his Scully is. He lifts his arms, lets her strip him first. He is fraught with the temptation to feel insecure, inadequate, but this is not about him--this is all for her. There is no time to dwell on this anyway. Scully takes in the sight, then puts her own arms up with a hint of impatience. He pulls her shirt over her head, and goosebumps adorn her as the air hits her bare stomach. 

It is unimaginable, the significance of this moment. All Mulder can do is keep going, lest the emotion hit him and he find himself blubbering all over her. His hands travel her body...it is slender and white, but so solid, so strong. Cartilage forming ligaments forming joints connecting bones. And her skin, stretching over her hips and framing it all. The masterpiece that is Dana Katherine Scully. 

He fears for the day she will cave in on herself. Already, one of his hands covers her whole rib cage. Right now he can cradle her body comfortably against his own, but the day will come when a single cautious touch will crush her, and his heart along with it. He wants her as she is now forever.

Seeing that he wants to pamper her, Scully lets herself be pampered. He showers the taut length of her collar bone in kisses. The vibration resonates throughout her bone structure, and already she can feel him in places she’s only fantasized about having him. He is going to heal me, she thinks. If anyone could heal her in any way, it would be him doing this. 

She shows her gratitude by kneading circles into his soft tissues, so tense from all their days chasing ghosts. The sinew relaxes beneath the pads of her fingers, and she feels like she has solved the most important X-File of all. 

Mulder traces his way along her spine. He has never touched her here, nor ever even fantasized about it, and there is an erotic tension--like a needle about to drop on a record--that neither one of them could have seen coming. Inevitably, his hands converge at the hooks of her bra. She arches her back in approval. He slides the hooks away from each other, and both of them feel the release. She shimmies off the garment before he can pull it out of the way. No secrets, not anymore.

Mulder didn’t expect to cry and is aware that most women wouldn’t take that as a positive sign, but seeing her, like this, knowing what they both know, tears feel like the least he could offer up. She is...beautiful is too weak a word to describe it. He needs to invent a new word to capture the essence of his emotions, the reverence with which he views her. He is not a religious man, but he will worship her until the end of time. 

He has known this, intuitively, for a while, and now he’s putting it into practice. He wants to do everything he can for her, give her everything she wants. Yet he doesn’t know how to, and this scares him. She has always slipped through his fingers, always turned on a dime just when he thought he figured her out. Tonight is no exception. How was he to know that he’d be on his couch with a half-naked Scully in his lap?

He fears the tears will offend her, so he nuzzles into her heartspace, his nose pressed against the heart that is--by the grace of that God she worships--still beating. His lips meet the plush of her left breast. 

Where does he go from here? The dusty routine he’s used with other women--the few who have given themselves to him or let him hand himself over--is not worthy enough for Scully. He could never touch Scully in the ways he’s touched the women before because she is not like the women before. There is no mere giving or taking here, no detached exchange of commodities or pleasure for the sake of pleasure. This is survival. They are symbiotically keeping each other alive.

A drop of water hits Scully’s skin, slides down the curvature of her breast. She shudders. A tear. That’s what it is, she realizes. Mulder is crying. It’s a baptism of unfortunate proportions. 

She cups her hand against his chin, tilts it up so his bleary eyes meet hers. She rests her forehead against his. “Shh, shh, it’s okay.” She kisses each eye closed, his lids fluttering beneath her lips. “It’s okay.” 

His breathing steadies. He is quite certain that it is not okay, that it never will be, but he listens to her, lets himself pretend. 

Hands still on his chin, she careens their lips together. His mouth on hers; a godsend. They caress each other for a moment, then Scully opens wide, and Mulder does too. They are reflecting. 

If Scully could compress herself, pushing every particle of air out of her lungs and into his, she would. As a sort of thank you, for everything. For what he has done, what is doing, what he will do...She will never have to live without him. She knows this now, and it makes this easier. But he will have to live without her, and so she must make sure he gets the memories he needs to carry on. This is how grief works, she’s acquainted with it. These moments, these feelings, these bated breaths and tender touches, will be his survival mechanism for awhile. Until the day when he can throw them off and go on without her ghost. It will happen one day, and she will be glad that he made it. 

She feels him pressing against her stomach, which is certainly not where she wants him. “Fox…” Her hands hover above his belt. She unzips his fly first, her hand warm against him. He is dizzy with want as her fingers curl against his belt buckle, loosening it with confidence. In a sweeping gesture,  she pushes his jeans off his hips, exposing him. The thrill she feels, seeing him big and bare in front of her, is a new kind of livelihood. She’s overcome with the desire to take him in her mouth--and that has never, never been her first instinct. She ducks down, but he stops her.

“Dana, no. You.”

She doesn’t need to hear it twice. She sucks in a breath, arches her back, and slides onto him. Slowly, gasping as they go. 

“Am I hurting you?”

Scully shakes her head, lips parted. It has been nothing like this before...nothing so fulfilling. She crosses her ankles, binding them completely together at last. 

Unity triumphs against the self, their union abolishing the world’s insistence on the solitude of the individual. This is what it’s about, isn’t it? Being joined, not only in spirit, but in body? Knowing that whatever horrors are to come, he will feel them as she does. Her dwindling will be his too, her losses an equally empty space within him. 

She is teetering on the edge of something she can never come back from. She is not afraid. 

She careens her fingernails into his back as the pressure builds. If it doesn’t come to a head, she’ll die right here, she thinks. 

She barely registers the cathartic noises coming out of her, though they give Mulder great delight. He thought she would be quiet, and the fact that she’s not trying to hold anything in--after holding everything in for so goddamn long--is the most moving part of the experience. 

And they want this to go on forever, but they want the release. Mulder swivels his hips into her, bringing them both closer to climax. Scully curls against him. 

“I’m sorry,” she cries into his ear.

“What?” He nearly pulls out of her, fearing that she’s hurt. 

“No, no--” She scrambles to stay with him. “This--” she pants “--is so good.” She lowers her lips onto his as confirmation, then speaks into his open mouth. “I’m just sorry to be the one to go.”

He frames her ribcage, thumbs arching toward her belly button. “Fuck, honey...don’t say that, don’t even think that…”

They won’t linger on the choice of pet name, the tenderness with which it settles over her, nor the absolute devastation of her words. There is simply no time. 

Scully hides her face in his neck as the wave breaks over both of them. There is no world anymore, only the two of them on this couch. They have forsaken the physical realm, ascending to heaven in time with their heartbeats. 

Mulder understands then what his reciprocal means when she says she needs proof to believe. Now that he’s been there and felt it, he knows that heaven exists, and holy shit, what does that mean for the life he has lived and the time he has left? What did it mean for Samantha?...What will it mean for Scully?

They collapse into each other, a melted mass of skin and bone. Two becoming one, becoming two again. Mulder strokes the back of his partner’s head, presses his lips to her temple. Her chest rises against him in jagged breaths.

“You are the only proof I’ll ever need that this life is worth it,” he murmurs. “Just you.”

Scully looks up at him, tears running down her cheeks. He kisses them away and wraps his arms around her. “I don’t know if you got the memo, but I love you, Dana Scully.”

She rests her cheek against his. “I love you too, F--Mulder.”

Mulder chuckles, his amusement shaking both of them. Scully closes her eyes and snuggles into him. He puts his hand over her heart, feels it beating steadily into his palm, and longs for it to stay like that forever.

[bellatrixxue]

Xue’s Supernatural Dare: Wendigo (S1 EP2)

Hello, everyone? How did everyone feel about the finale? Yes? Yes? Oh. Oh. Oh my. Oh, dear.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell that half-assed homophobic chicken-shit fuckbucket’s not gonna stop me, since I strapped myself onto this roller coaster already and I promised I’m not getting out until the ride’s over, so here we go, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Also, those who are in this roller coaster with me, ready? Tag list is: @fangirlxwritesx67​ @amazingiam00​ @kalliravenne​ @indecisive20something​ @2musiclover2​ @impossibletosleepthrough @there-must-be-a-lock​ @wingedcatninja​ @arvit​

Oh my gods this recap is so cheesy I actually can make a fondue out of it. 2000s, everybody!

A WHOLE MINUTE AND A HALF FOR THAT FONDUE

FUCKJUMPSCARETITLEFUCKYOU

So we’re starting the episode with the murder scene first, eh? Is that gonna be a trend?

Oh come on, Chads, you’re out in nature and you’re playing video games? Absorb the nature...before it absorbs you!

Waitwait. Holy shit is that...is that Cory Monteith? Oh, bless his soul...

If the wendigo eats his dick as he’s peeing I’m immediately giving Jensen Ackles $100. For no real reason, I just feel like giving him money for already carrying the show on his back.

I can’t tell if it did or not, so I’m not paying yet.

Aw, Sammy...

"I should have told you the truth.” *Vine voice* BUT YOU DIDN’T

FUCKYOUINTHEASSHOhnightmare. Nightmare. So did he visit her at her grave or not? I need answers.

A week? Goddamn. Poor thing. That man-eating tree’s fucking good at his job, man.

“There’s nothing there, it’s just...woods,” Sam, I don’t know if Jess’s death hit you hard or if you got into law school by eating some ancient dick and/or pussy instead of earning that high score fair and square, but the woods “in the middle of nowhere” (your words) are known to be one of the top places full of weird-ass creatures. Even kindergartners know that.

Ehehehehehehehehe he’s so smol next to his lil bro my lil shit

At least you’re coming up with decent covers this time. No Agent Mulder and Scully ruining things for you this time around.

“Bull” oop-

Oh Dean’s a smoooooooooth operator. Good going, buddy.

AND HE GOT A COPY OF THAT DOCUMENT TEAM DEAN TEAM DEAN

Oh that death really got to Sam. I hope he doesn’t turn out to be a trigger-happy psycho. Or eat the man-eating tree and become one himself.

Oh, Haley’s a cutie! Which one’s her brother? Cory? Discount Enrique Iglesias?

Do you have a card for EVERY profession, Dean? And how do I get them too?

That is a very pretty car. I bet they wasted half the budget on that thing.

Okay, sonny boy, little bro, Broseidon, calm down.

Ah, fuck, Haley and Broseidon is gonna go into the woods, that’s more heads to worry about.

How the fuck does Sam find information this fast? I’m impressed, I take five hours to get to one article for my research paper. Or maybe I’m just lazy. So he really earned his law school interview without having to eat dick and pussy, huh.

Every 23 years? What is this, Pennywise? Are we going to see the wendigo do his best Tim Curry do his best scary clown impression? Honk honk?

“Whatever that thing is, it can move.” And the sun rises on the East, Sammy. Why are you so smart and dumb at the same time? Is this his character trait? It might grow on me.

Ahhh, so Sam’s go-to move at interrogation is doing puppy dog eyes and sympathize with the person. He’d make a good lawyer, shame that man-eating tree.

Go Grandpa Exposition, go!

Go Grandpa Exposition, go, give us information and none at all!

OH GEEZ THAT SCAR. PENNYWISE WENDIGO IS VICIOUS.

Skinwalker, Back Dog...Ooh, those all sound cool! I hope we get to see them soon!

‘Corporeal’ doesn’t sound like a real word, but then again, English doesn’t sound like a real language. Sorry. Moving on.

Sam’s gonna eat the wendigo with that attitude, Jesus Christ.

AND HIS BROTHER, AT THIS RATE. If the real villain turns out to be inside Sam all along I’m gonna flip. Is that why women keep dying and burning on ceilings where he sleeps? Is he secretly Lucifer’s spawn or something?

“Oh sweetheart I don’t wear shorts”. They queer-coded him from the start and they tried to make you believe he was straight for fifteen seasons straight? And some people bought that?

Oh, crap, another crappy death treatment for Cory before he got into Glee...No, I wasn’t into Glee, I just watched a few episodes and I might hate Rachel Berry...And Lea Michele...ahem...

Dean is totally flirting with Roy shut upppppppp

OOP AND THERE ROY GOES OH THE SEXUAL TENSION IS HIGH IN THESE WOODS TODAY

“It’s probably the most honest I’ve been with a woman. Ever.” See. Bi. Bi bi bi.

So...why the coordinates, Daddy Negan? Is this a portal to Hell? A place where man-eating trees grow?

*carefully places death flag on Roy*

Ooooh the campsite is very...haunted house-y. You know what I’m saying?

That’s not Discount Enrique Iglesias, but Pennywise wendigo, yes? Those things can mimic human voices, right?

*Google searches*...There are so many versions of this tale I can’t even confirm or deny it. Dammit.

Maybe Pennywise wendigo just wants some snacks and a nice phone and GPS? Maybe he misses his family in uh, Canada or something?

Daddy Negan’s journal is  a e s t h e t i q u e .

I’m so sorry, but the way Sammy smirks as he speaks with those dark, dark voids for eyes? My boy’s a demon. He’s a demon, I’m telling you.

At least Haley has some sense to her. *puts another death flag on Roy*

*PUTS YET ANOTHER DEATH FLAG ON ROY*

True, that. What the heck is Daddy Negan up to with all of this?

“Saving people, hunting things, the family business!” Okay, the way Dean said it gave me chills.

I can actually empathize with Sam here...As whiny and bitchy as he is, he has his reasons to be this way. I guess if I were in his shoes, I’d be less of a Dean and more of a Sam, too. We deal with our losses quite similarly.

Ah, the brotherly bonding moments like these little talks make the show worth it. It’s so heartwarming.

Pennywise wendigo! I didn’t miss you, why’re you here to burst my happy bubble?

I’m starting to see a slight parallel between Haley and Broseidon and Dean and Sammy. Hmm.

Nice meeting you, Roy. Zoop you go.

Haley and Broseidon are taking this rather well, I’m glad they do.

Okay, actual exposition time, thank you.

Whoa, Broseidon speaks! Donner Party! Please don’t remind me of that! Those poor people!

Hibernation and food storage. Delightful, just delightful.

TORCHING? *CALLS RAMMSTEIN*

Somehow, not being able to see the wendigo is scarier to me than what I will probably see itself. Limited budget horror can actually work well.

Oh, dear, Roy literally did a death drop. Badum tissssssssss.

FUCK IT TOOK DEAN THE ONLY CHARACTER I CARE ABOUImean I love you too, Sam! Come on, let’s find him before it’s too late!

A trail of M&Ms! Yes, Broseidon! And Hansel and Gretel refercalled it. Sammy, you and I share the same wavelength?

SHITSHITTHEYTRIPPEDANDFELLINTHEFUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

Thank the gods the Pennywise wendigo kept them right there. Chances.

DISCOUNT ENRIQUE IGLESIAS IS STILL ALIVE GEEZ BUT ALSO PHEW

Ah, Dean Winchester, I love you so much that I can’t even begin to describe it.

Also how convenient that the flare guns are there. Deus ex machina!

Haley would bode well as a hunter, look at her courage, her will. There are more hunters around than Daddy Negan and the brothers, right?

Yeah, seeing the actual wendigo makes me less scared of it now. It’s unnerving, but still.

TEAM DEAN YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAW

Graphics are...alright, but it’s the thought that counts!

Running with the grizzly bear story. Smart Broseidon. Ben. Sorry, you deserve to be called by your real name. I think with practice they could become good hunters, along with their Discount Enrique Iglesias brother! Is there a fanfiction for that? Can I write it now?

...

I AM WILLING TO DIE TO PROTECT DEAN WINCHESTER I

Haley’s a lesbian, that’s why she kissed him on the cheek only. Headcanoned. Also I have a crush on her, she’s really pretty? Like? Heart eyes???

Ah, the siblings parallels again. Let’s hope neither of the two brothers end up in the bed like that.

“Man, I hate camping.” Really. Really really. Really.

“I’m driving”

...

SAM WINCHESTER I’M SORRY I EVER SPOKE ILL OF YOU I WILL PROTECT YOU WITH MY LIFE TOO I PROMISE YOU I WILL

It’s just a sassy bisexual brother and his little snide bisexual brother on the road to kill evil creatures and find their father and I love this show? Help? Help???

I really, really see the charm of Supernatural now! I’m fully invested in both brothers and their story, and I’m cheering them both on! Let’s get Daddy Negan back and get rid of that man-eating tree once and for all!

Six stars out of five!

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

This dare is introducing me to a whole new world, and I really, really am glad I took that jump a few days ago, man!

Thank you everyone for reading my ramblings, and I’ll see you in the day after with the next review! Thank you for sticking with me! Buh-bye!

- Xue

[yavannah]

Returning from vacation was a bit difficult, of course, but now they had so-called recharged themselves and were better able to work and take care of the children again.

Same time, little Walter and Nomura were going through some weird phase where they definitely wanted to wear a bear outfit, even in the heat. Little Walt's bear outfit was red and little Nomura's orange. 

 In addition, the twins had grown at a rapid pace, as well as had learned to walk, so resting with them really didn’t become anything when the very fast-moving twins were curious about going to just about anywhere, even where they wouldn’t have been allowed to go. 

 But nonetheless, Walter kept playing with these and looking after them, even though it was a much harder job than watching the school’s students, which was no easy task either. 

 One day the rest of the family had already gone to work and school and Walter happened to have a day off, when he had naturally also had to look after the twins. He was currently playing with Carrietta when there was a knock on the door.

He lowered Carrietta carefully and went to the door to see who was really there. Walter opened the door, making his expression sour when he saw the newcomers. Mulder and Scully. 

After a little courtesy, he let inside the duo. They still wanted to inquire about what was happening at the hospital, as well as the events that preceded it, when Walter had been helping Jim and others with a demanding task that had unfortunately managed to get the attention of outsiders as well, even though they had tried to avoid it, and in that rush he had hurt himself quite badly. But luckily because he wasn’t a human it had been helpful and he was now in as good shape as he would never have hurt himself. 

Scully still seemed very skeptical about all this. The woman was clearly unwilling to believe that trolls and trollhunters existed, let alone magic, which usually appeared only in storybooks. Mulder, on the other hand, watched and listened with great interest to everything and was actually very surprised when Carrietta toaded the scene curiously. 

Admittedly, that curiosity vanished for a moment as the girl began to be a little shy and perhaps even intimidating these strange people in their home. Walter squatted protectively to reassure Carrietta. He really wouldn’t give his daughters anyones guinea pig, at least not without a fight, that was for sure.

“What is that?” Scully asked. 

"That? She's my daughter Carrietta," Walter growled and glared at the woman less kindly. 

 During that exchange, Jim, Claire, little Nomura, and little Walter arrived from school. They looked at these agents a little confused. Jim also glanced pretty ugly at Scully, perhaps because he was also perhaps a bit of an overprotective big brother who didn’t like the way his little sister was talked about. 

Scully said nothing more but headed a little to look at the apartment, which Walter had, of course, given permission for, albeit quite coldly. Also mentioning that he hoped the agents would disappear as quickly as possible so he wouldn’t have to help with that. 

 The schoolchildren moved to the big table to do their homework and Walter was going to go put the food so it would be ready when the schoolchildren got their homework done. 

He was already at the kitchen door when he collided with Scully. The woman's behavior had changed and this was actually trying to flirt, which made Walter confused. He just froze, and couldn't really deny the woman, but in the end he pushed Scull away, noting that he was already married and that his wife wouldn't be very happy if he knew what had happened. 

 That's where Walter was right. 

In the end, Mulder and Scully were happy with what they had seen and left. Walter stood in the dining room, looking at Jim and Claire a little begging, not to tell her, because he did not wanted quarrel with Barbara right now. 

 But Jim still decided to tell. 

So when Barbara returned from work, she learned that Mulder and Scully had visited. What he didn't like was knowledge of what Scully had done. Although Jim had carefully mentioned that the enterprising person had been Scully, not Walter, and that Walter had even rejected the woman's applause, expressing that he was already married. 

 It still didn’t help terribly, as Barbara’s feelings swelled to the surface or perhaps a slight jealousy, so she expressed her case to Walter perhaps a little unnecessarily loudly, but eventually apologized to Walter for her overreaction. But Barbara didn't promise to be very kind if she met Scully again.

[soft-thrills]

XF Fic: Too Much, Just Right

I fear that if I don’t post this now, I may never post it.

Summary: Mulder/Scully smut. Dom Mulder. NC-17. Classic PWP. Mulder and Scully get kinky on a vacation to Big Sur. That’s it, that’s the plot. It’s embarrassingly long, what else is new.

It satisfies two prompts from the Dec ‘18/Jan’19 @xfpornbattle​, which, LOL, could I be any slower?

Those prompts are:

Dom Mulder draped over Scully's back, pounding into her and whispering the dirtiest things in her ear while playing with her clit. Bonus if there are people nearby.

and:

Dom Mulder blowjob, slapping Scully's cheeks with his dick while she touches herself

I reserve the right to revisit this setting, by the way, because Big Sur is the most surreal landscape I’ve ever visited, and it’s a BIG Mulder/Scully mood.

If I’ve not scared you off, keep reading, friends. Unbeta’ed. Sorry for the typos or tense slips. I tried to catch ‘em all. If you like it, hate it, it makes you feel something, anything, please let me know.

He books them a cabin in a redwood grove on the California coast. Their cell phones lose reception as they begin the winding drive through Big Sur, dramatic scenery seemingly all around them — jagged cliffs and primal, roaring ocean waves on one side; mountains and thick forest on the other. It feels like the edge of the universe. 

They are in a rented Jeep, with the top taken off, and Mulder had popped The Beach Boy’s Pet Sounds — somehow at once upbeat and melancholy, not unlike him — into the CD player.

They are relaxed, happy. Blessedly alone.

“No shared apartment walls out here, Scully,” he says, his voice dark and low, the way it always sounds in the evenings when he takes charge.

His hand lands on her thigh and she jumps. He smirks. She feels off balance — the rush of the wind around the Jeep, Brian Wilson’s voice, the sheer edges and the blue sky — and it feels good. 

“No neighbors. I’m going to have so much fun making you scream,” he promises. “Just you and me in the middle of nowhere.”

...So he hadn’t realized there would be another cabin about 20 feet away from theirs, occupied by a friendly couple in their twenties who wave when they pull up, just as the sun is setting. She shoots him a trademark raised eyebrow. 

“All alone in the middle of nowhere, huh?” 

In the end, it works out. Ed and Mary are lovely, and they spend the evening sitting around a fire pit between the two cabins, sharing a cache of West Coast IPAs, pinot noir and marshmallows. Sadly, Mulder and Scully have to politely turn down the couple’s generous offer to enjoy some fine California Gold marijuana, what with the federal employment and all. 

A couple hours later, it is well and truly dark. Scully knows from past trips out to Big Sur when she was young that the sky is full of stars, though they can’t see it from their vantage point beneath the thick canopy of redwoods. She feels warm from the fire and the drinks and the easy camaraderie. She feels happy, relaxed, far from her responsibilities. 

“Ready to hit the hay, Scully?” Mulder asks, a voice so sweet she’d almost forgotten the mood he’d been in earlier. 

Almost.

She felt warm all over again.

“Yeah, if we want to get up early tomorrow and hike, I suppose we’d better.” 

And so they say goodnight to Ed and Mary, who say they’d be outside a little while longer, making sure the fire safely dies down. Very responsible. 

The cabin is small but well appointed — for once it really is a nice trip to the forest. It has sliding glass doors, and once they were inside, Mulder drew the curtains almost all the way. Almost. It would be unlikely Ed or Mary could see anything from their vantage point, but not entirely impossible if they ventured out of the clearing. The walls are thin enough that she can hear Mary laughing at something Ed said outside.  

“Guess it would be a little rude to make you scream, Scully,” he says, and she jumps, because Mulder’s low voice is right against her ear, and she hadn’t even realized he was behind her.

“I guess so,” she says, not happy about how shaky her voice is already.

“Maybe I’ll just have to settle for making you whimper. Making you beg. Making you moan.”

She could settle for that. Doesn’t really feel like settling at all, actually.

“And maybe, Scully, if you’re very good, and you promise not to make too much noise, maybe I will let you come.”

She watches her own chest rise and fall, listens to the sound of her own breath. He is so annoyingly, wonderfully good at this. It was hard, at first, for her to accept that she liked it — that bossy Dana Scully liked being bossed around in bed. She supposes it’s not particularly shocking. It might even be predictable. It took Mulder next to no time to figure out, brilliant profiler and whatnot.  But it’s still hard to be vulnerable with someone when you want them to treat you as an equal in a relationship. Harder still when you also work with that someone in an environment where it is imperative that they treat you as an equal.

Needless to say, she got over it.

“Would you like that, Scully? Would you like me to make you beg?” he asks, running his hands up her sides, and she can’t help but shiver.

“Yes.”

“Take your clothes off,” he says, not a whisper anymore, and his voice is enough to make her jump.

He stalks out from behind her as she sheds the fleece jacket she’d worn to keep warm by the fire, then her t-shirt, then her jeans.

“Stop,” he says, when she was down to her underwear and bra, simple but matching black cotton.

He kisses her, hands in her hair, like he’d been waiting to do it since he’d made his now-amended promise back in the Jeep all those hours ago. A needy sound escapes from the back of her throat, and she can’t tell if she’s squirming because of embarrassment or desire but she’s pretty sure it’s both.

She is out of breath when he pulls away. 

“You’re so beautiful, Scully. You’re perfect,” he says, and while she doesn’t think of herself that way, in that moment, she believes him.

“I want to make you deliriously happy,” he tells her.

She leans into his chest as he strokes her hair.

“But first,” his voice drops again, his hand goes from stroking to gripping the hair at the nape of her neck, pulling back so she looks up at him. “You’re going to suck my cock.”

He is good at that — setting her at ease with sweet little touches and then jolting her back into their kinky little game — and she is a real sucker for it. 

She glances in the direction of the bed, but he shakes his head. She feels herself get hotter. He pulls a pillow off the bed and places it in front of him. She knows what he wants, but she wants to hear him tell her.

“On your knees, Scully.”

She’s always been good at following directions. When she is settled, he unbuttons his fly. He takes his cock in hand, but instead of pressing it against her lips, he rubs it against her cheek. She feels herself blush and then he gently taps it against her cheek, and then a little harder, and that’s something new and Christ, it’s almost too much, which means it makes her wet.

“Does sucking my cock turn you on?” 

She silently curses him for expecting her to speak in this condition. “Yes. Please,” she says, although she’s not entirely sure what she’s asking him for.

He slaps his dick against her cheek again and she squeezes her legs together. Too much. But God, she likes it. 

“You can play with yourself,” he says. Of course she can, she is a grown woman, and she can do whatever she likes to her own body… and yet on this evening, in this mood, she wouldn’t dream of it without Mulder’s permission.

He puts his cock in her mouth, and she takes him up on his offer, slipping her hands inside her panties and finding herself predictably wet.

She takes him as deep as she can, concentrating until she gets into a rhythm, then looking up at him and making eye contact. He groans, and she’d smirk if she could.

“I’ve been waiting all day for this, Scully,” he mutters. “Been thinking about sliding into your mouth since I started teasing you in the Jeep. I could barely concentrate out by the fire, I wanted you so bad.”

She moves the busy fingers under her underwear a little faster, and he notices. 

“It makes you wet to have my dick in your mouth, huh?” 

She moans around his cock. Too much. Just right. 

Kinky sex with Mulder never fails to remind her what a good interrogator he is. He is constantly talking to her, asking her to react, asking her to admit her secrets — yes, I want you to make me beg, yes, I want to suck your cock, yes, I like having your dick in my mouth. It is a temporarily lopsided power dynamic — there is no doubt that Mulder is in charge right now — but there’s rarely any sense of force. She wants every filthy thing he does to her, and he makes her tell him that. 

It is overwhelming to be the object of his intense focus, his questioning, his curiosity. At first it was terrifying how little she could hide from him. It is still a little scary — in an exciting, pulse-quickening way that reminds her why she turned in her stethoscope for a gun. It’s also oddly comforting: She doesn’t have to hide, or pretend, with Mulder. She just has to be herself, strange quirks and kinks and all. He could see through any pretending she could try.

She takes him a little deeper, deep enough that it makes her eyes water. A gentle thumb wipes away a tear that had formed at the edge of her eye. She looks up into his eyes and when he smiles at her, she nearly melts. 

“Hands where I can see them, now, Scully,” he says, and she reluctantly stops touching herself. 

Mulder withdraws from her mouth a moment later, and helps her to her feet. He steps out of his jeans, then pulls his t-shirt over his head. 

“Did you enjoy that, Scully?”

That he calls her by her last name, even now, as she wipes the corner of her lips, it’s somehow a thousand times more intimate than if he’d used her first name. It’s like he sees right through whatever walls she might want to build, flimsier than the walls of this cabin, outside of which the fire is still burning as Ed and Mary keep talking.

“Yes,” she says simply, finally, answering his question. Then she flicks her eyes at his erection. “I could feel that you enjoyed it as well.”

Despite how much she likes it when he’s in charge, she can’t help but try to claw back a little pride.

“Of course I liked it,” he says, pulling her close against his erection. “What’s not to like about my buttoned-up partner getting on her knees to take my cock down her throat while she plays with herself?”

She moans -- an embarrassing, unintended, not very quiet moan. 

“What did I tell you about being quiet, Scully?” he teases, followed by a sharp swat on her ass. 

Too much. Just right.

“I can’t help it,” she whines, a whisper.

“Well you’d better try, if you want me to let you come.”

On any other evening she’d laugh. She’d scoff at the idea that anyone could *let* her do anything. But it isn’t any other evening and she’s ready to dissolve into a puddle at his feet and so she bites her lip and she nods like a --

“Good girl,” he says.

When she is back in her right mind she is going to murder him. Or buy him breakfast. She can’t really be sure. 

He shoves her -- shoves her! -- onto the cabin’s king size bed, which takes up most of the small space. Her pulse is racing. 

Scully knows, rationally, that there are lots of reasons people like any manner of kinky sex -- the trust, the intimacy, the letting go of responsibility, all of those things are appealing to her. But she thinks the biggest draw is the sheer thrill. She doesn’t know what Mulder will do next. She is a little afraid but terribly excited, the way she is as a roller coaster cranks its way up a hill, or when her heels click on the pavement as she chases a suspect. She slinks backward on the mattress, away from him, back up against the headboard, even as all she wants is his touch. 

He slips out of his boxers. 

“Where ya going, Scully?” he asks, all boyish charm and wolflike grin. He yanks one leg, hard, pulling her down the bed until she’s flat on her back again. 

“Mulder, please, I --” and she stops, because she doesn’t even know what to say.

“You looked very pretty with my cock in your mouth, Scully. Would you like me to touch you? I haven’t yet, have I? Touched your pussy, I mean,” he says, marking that last bit with a firm squeeze of her left breast.

“No,” she replies.

“No, you don’t want me to touch you?”

“Oh, god, please touch me. You haven’t, but please,” she begs, and it’s embarrassing to beg, but it’s also hot, and it’s also all she can do, because if Mulder doesn’t touch her soon she’s going to lose her mind. 

He slides her underwear, embarrassingly wet, down her legs, his fingernails scraping their way. 

“Turn over,” he says.

She does, arching her ass up almost unconsciously. He gives it a playful smack and she moans.

“What do you want?” he asks her, drawing his penis up and down her labia, teasing.

“I want you to touch my clit,” she says.

He waits. She waits. 

“No,” he says, the only real warning she gets before he slides his cock inside her, to the hilt. 

She cries out -- and his hand covers her mouth.

“What did I tell you about being quiet?” he growls.

The feeling of him inside her -- hot and hard and so big -- is overwhelming. But she knows she won’t come without his fingers on her clit, and so does he. He’s going to keep teasing her. 

He moves his hand away from her mouth. She’s prone on her stomach and he’s draped over her, all over her. His lips are against her ear.

“Are you going to be quiet for me, Scully?” he asks her.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Good,” he says. “We wouldn’t want our friends outside to hear what a little slut you are, now would we?”

Too much. Just right. She whimpers, muffling the sound into the mattress beneath her. 

“I bet you’d like to rub your clit right now, wouldn’t you?” he asks her.

“Yes, please,” she says.

“But you’re not -- why aren’t you touching yourself?” he asks.

She squirms, just another subject of his interrogations, just as helpless against his probing questions as any of them have ever been. 

“Because you haven’t let me,” she admits. “You haven’t given me permission.”

“That’s right, and I’m in charge, aren’t I?”

She has heard Mulder’s voice crack like a whip. She has heard him bellow, heard him snarl, heard him command a room of men with just his words.

But this — this rough, ragged whisper, so close to her ear she feels it more than she hears it — it’s so unbearably intimate, so unnerving. It reverberates to her very core.

“Yes,” she admits. “You’re in charge. Please.”

“Please what, Scully?” he asks, as he slams into her. “Do you want to touch yourself?”

“Yes,” she breathes. And then: “No. I want you to touch me. Please.”

“That’s my girl,” he says. 

Before she knows it, two fingers are working her clit in tight little circles as he pounds into her. In another moment she might envy his athleticism, be impressed by his coordination. But all she can do right now is moan into the pillow beneath her, overwhelmed, overloaded. 

Too much, just right. 

“I told you to be quiet, but you just can’t help yourself, can you?” he asks.

She assumes all he can hear is a moan, but what she’s muttering into the pillow is: “Pleasepleasepleaseplease.”

“I like it when you can’t control yourself, Scully,” he mutters. “Because even if you can’t -- I can. You know that, right?”

“Yes,” she whispers. “Yes yes, please, please.”

“Come for me,” he says, his voice practically a growl. “Come for me, Scully.” 

She’s so worked up that a few flicks of his wrist is really all it takes for her to tumble over the edge, as sharp and severe as the cliffs they drove past a few hours ago. 

“That’s right” he says, so fucking smug she wants to suffocate him, except she’s busy gasping for air herself. 

She’s coming down as he starts moving faster. She realizes, appreciatively, the amount of self-restrain that was probably necessary for him to focus so singularly on her orgasm. She arches a little higher, moans a little breathier. He deserves it, doesn’t he?

“Give it to me,” she moans, knowing what buttons to press, wanting it to be as good for him as it was for her. “Please, Mulder.”

A moment later he spills into her, collapsing on her back, overwhelming her, surrounding her in the best possible way.

For a moment they both just lie there, flattened, useless, happy, sated people. Scully feels empty in a good way, a way she rarely feels. Divorced from her worries, from her expectations. Elated. 

He slips out of her, slides to her side and spoons against her. 

“God, I love you, Scully,” he murmurs into her shoulder. 

“I love you too, Mulder,” she says, pressing back against him.

“I hope I wasn’t --”

“Stop. It was perfect,” she sighs. 

A beat.

“But I hope we don’t run into Ed or Mary tomorrow.”

[downwiththeficness]

In the Bond-Chapter 19

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~6,300

Warnings: Smut

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

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She’d made the call not really knowing how it was going to go. Lilah had an address, a plane, a packed weekender bag, and not much else. Sitting at the airport bar was the extent of her plan. She tipped back the last of her beer, eyeing the mirror that reflected the entrance.

Kate was early. Lilah checked the digital clock next to the wall of liquor. She’d asked her to be there at one. It was barely twelve thirty. There was something to be said for punctuality, a quality she had found strangely lacking in most criminals—go figure. Lilah signaled for another round, two fingers in the air, her free hand gesturing at the approaching woman.

Dressed in a long sleeved shirt and jeans, her hair tumbling in soft waves around her face, Kate looked barely old enough to even be in the bar. Lilah supposed that was true, though she’d never bothered to ask Kate’s age. She fixed the bartender with a soft, sweet smile and didn’t even get carded.

Sliding onto the stool next to her, Kate rested both arms on the bar top, “He doesn’t know I’m here, by the way.”

There was no need to expound on who Kate meant. Lilah doubted that Seth could have stopped Kate, even if he wanted to. And yet, a small part of her appreciated the discretion. An angry, possibly vengeful, Seth was one variable she didn’t have the energy to contend with on this particular trip. And still, it chafed that he hadn’t reached out. Lilah hadn’t received a single text message or call. It hurt her more than she cared to admit.

Not bothering to spare Kate a glance, Lilah shrugged, “Wouldn’t matter if he did.”

“It might.”

“Doubtful.”

Lilah knew she sounded petulant, but she couldn’t quite make herself care. She sipped at the too expensive beer and leaned lazily back in her seat. Kate fiddled with the bottle, thumb rubbing at the label.

“So, Iceland?”

Smiling, Lilah nodded, “Reykjavik, actually. There’s a huge church there, and the knife is in, like, a reliquary.”

She’d had to look up the definition of reliquary when Brasa told her about it, tablet in hand, finger swiping from one picture to the next. When Lilah had commented that they were lucky it was in a church and not in another private collection, he’d sighed and said he’d rather deal with the private collector. The capital “C”, Church, could be a harrowing enemy.

Lilah disagreed. A church of this size and age was unlikely to have up to date security systems. And, to be fair, a lot of churches were underfunded, which left little to know staff to wander the halls in search of delinquent women looking to pocket ancient relics.

“Uh huh,” Kate drawled, taking a swig, “How do you expect us to get in?”

Lilah shrugged, “I hadn’t gotten quite that far.”

“Uh huh,” then, “How far have you gotten?”

Hands giving a sweep around her, Lilah pronounced, “This is about it.”

“Uh huh.”

With an expression that was nearly a glare, Lilah groaned, “Stop saying that.”

Kate shrugged, “Its just that you usually have a plan. Way before we get to the airport.”

She was right, Lilah usually had a solid plan before they even left for the job, before they even bought the plane tickets or booked the motel. She didn’t like being rushed, but the reality was that they needed to get the job done and get back as fast as humanly possible. For this job, Lilah was willing to wing it just a little.

“I know,” Lilah sighed, taking a deep pull, “This was sort of last minute. There was...an attack.”

She didn’t think it would be wise to hide what had happened from Kate. Context and background information usually sat well with her. Like Lilah, Kate liked to know what, exactly, she was dealing with. And, there was part of her that just needed to tell someone.

Beside her, Kate stiffened, “What kind of attack?”

“Benny tried to open the portal,” Lilah explained, waving away the bartender’s offer of another round.  While they waited for the check, she continued, “A lot of the people he was with died. Some of them were injured—horrifically. The knife is all we need to close the portal for good.”

That, and a shit ton of Brasa’s blood. He’d told her over and over again that he’d put in safety measures, that there was nothing to worry about. Lilah was dubious, at best.

Nodding, Kate slipped off the stool and looked at Lilah expectantly, “When’s the flight?”

Lilah glanced again at the clock, “About an hour from now.”

Kate frowned, “We’re not going to get through security in that time. Why didn’t you tell me to be here sooner?”

Smiling coyly, Lilah lifted a shoulder, “Probably because we’re flying private. We’ve got plenty of time.”

Head cocking to the side, Kate regarded her closely, her mouth parted in something near enough to a smile, “I guess you’d better show me your plane.”

Leaning down, Lilah grabbed her weekender and slung it over her shoulder, “Boarding is that way.”

The plane was exactly as she remembered it, right down to the stewardess offering them a glass of champagne for the flight. Lilah settled into the plush seat and sent off a text to Brasa to let him know they were on the tarmac.

When she looked up from her phone, she noticed Kate tossing hers back into her bag, likely doing the same thing.

“So, you do any research on this church?”

Lilah’s head ticked to the side, “A little. Its huge. Big ol’ pipe organ that’s pretty famous.”

Kate sipped her champagne, “You read that off Wikipedia?”

That was exactly what she’d done, right after Brasa spelled out the name for her.

Laughing, Lilah confirmed, “Pretty much.”

“You got a way in?”

“There’s services a couple days a week,” Lilah said, resting her head in her palm, “I figure, we go in with the church crowd, sneak away, hit up the reliquary, walk out with the church crowd.”

Kate blinked, “You said its a big church. Do you know your way around?”

“Javier got me some maps,” then, “I told Brasa we’d have a seventy two hour turnaround.”

Brows coming together, Kate shook her head, “It might not be that simple.”

“You and the boys do it all the time.”

Lilah and the boys had done it many times over.

“Yeah,” Kate shot back, “In banks, in museums, jacking cars. We’re stealing from a church.”

Lilah rolled her eyes, “What’s the difference?”

Her expression closed tightly, and Kate took a beat too long to respond, “Its the church. Its...God.”

Ah. Touchy subject.

Taking a deep breath, Lilah chose her words carefully, “Technically, they stole it first. The knife is Xibalban, it belongs to Brasa’s people. We’re not stealing it. We’re just..playing a bit of Robin Hood.”

Kate glared at her, “You can’t be Robin Hood when you’re sitting on a private jet, Lilah.”

That was fair.

“Point. Then, we’re reverse Indiana Jones-ing it.”

Laughing, Kate shook her head again, “I don’t think that fits, either.”

“Well, we can’t all be Richie with the pop culture references, can we?” Lilah retorted, half amused, half annoyed.

“No,” Kate murmured, “He really does have a connection for everything.”

“Oh, my god, he does,” Lilah agreed, one hand covering her eyes, “The first day I met him, he called me Scully. And then he proceeded to show me that there are, in fact, things that go bump in the night.”

He’d actually flashed his fangs at her, his eyes glowing behind his glasses. Lilah had scrambled back from him, too scared to even scream. It had been Seth that had calmed her down, had told her what they were doing, what their mission was. It had been Seth that set her on the path she was on now.

“That sounds like Richie,” Kate said with a small smile, “He likes to go ahead and rip the band aid off.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

It had taken about two days before Lilah could bring herself to sit within ten feet of Richie, and even longer before they had a conversation over three sentences long. Once she’d gotten over the initial shock, Lilah had grown to really like Richie. Despite the constant one upping and the long tangential digressions on canon, he could be sweet. He could also rip a person in half. Pros and cons being what they were, Lilah had eventually put him on the (extremely) short list of her friends.

They stopped for fuel in New York, and then they were taking the last leg of the trip. Landing went smoothly, and a car was waiting to take them to the hotel Brasa had booked. It hadn’t occurred to Lilah to ask him to book something low key and under the radar. When they pulled up to a swanky awning with gilt embellishments, she cringed internally.

Lilah appreciated a good hotel like most any other person. When she was on a job, though, it was always better to stay at a highway motel. Less surveillance, and if the police showed up, there were usually more concerned about the drugs in the room three doors down than a single woman drawing as little attention as possible. This was...ostentacious.

“I bet the beds in there are phenomenal,” Kate said as she walked ahead.

As she took in the extravagant lobby, Lilah couldn’t help but agree, but they would pale in comparison to the bed she shared with Brasa. Nothing could or would match those mattresses—which she still hadn’t asked Javier about. She resisted the urge to check her phone for the thousandth time, looking for a message from Brasa. He’d been busy dealing with the wounded, dealing with increasing calls for violence, dealing with all the things that came with governing a growing mass of people. She didn’t want to add to that.

As Kate predicted, the beds were pretty fucking good. Soft as clouds. Silky sheets. Very nice, but empty. Lilah would have slept on a futon to have Brasa here with her. She missed his presence, missed his touch. Since she’d left Jackknife Jed’s, Lilah hadn’t spent more than a few hours without him.

Spoiled. Lilah was fucking spoiled, now.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Lilah focused on unpacking her pajamas for the night. First thing in the morning, they would scout the church, find their entrance and their exit. Maybe come up with a few back up plans. She was pretty sure that the base plan she’d spouted off on the plane was their best option. But, she liked to have some alternatives.

As she crawled into bed, Lilah reached out and touched the bond. He was tired, she could tell. Gently, she suggested that he sleep. Lilah was met with a wall of stubborn willpower that had her physically rolling her eyes. Turning to her side, she reached up and turned off the bedside light. If he wasn’t going to get some rest, she definitely would.

Lilah slept hard. It was the kind of sleep that could make someone wake up and not know what year it was, the kind of sleep that stole the freshness of the morning. On her back, hands near her face, she blinked up at the ceiling as she tried to get her bearings in the unfamiliar room.

The shower was on, water sloshing.

Kate.

Her bed was warm—hot, even. There was a weight on her legs and hips, hidden by the comforter. She shifted, surprised when the weight moved with her. It continued to move even when she’d settled, enveloping her from belly to knees.

Hands. There were hands trailing up her sides, sliding underneath her pajama top. She sucked in a breath, releasing it forcefully when they cupped her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples. The comforter shifted, rolling in a singular wave upwards until the fabric parted to reveal dark hair and brown skin.

Brasa.

He smiled at her as he climbed her body, his eyes reflecting darkly in the low ambient light of the room. She smiled back, hands resting on his shoulders as he settled over her.

“Hi,” she said lowly.

He echoed her, leaning down to kiss her sternum. His mouth was warm, his hands massaging along her waist and down over her hips. He nuzzled her skin, rubbing his cheek against her neck and collarbone.

Lilah relaxed into the pillows, let him do as he liked. Her fuzzy mind reveled in the feel of him, his tongue tracing patterns ahead of his fingers. He pushed her shirt up and over her breasts, palms cupping them together. When he drew a nipple into his mouth, her body arched up, knees clutching at his sides.

Her thighs rubbed sensuously against bare skin. She bit her lip as she realized that he was very clearly naked, and very clearly aroused.

The shower cut off, drawing her attention. She tensed beneath him, turning her head to look towards the closed bathroom door.

Undeterred, Brasa pulled at her top, trying to get her arms through it. Lilah pushed at his shoulders, jerking her head towards the bathroom.

“Kate is literally going to walk out any second.”

His jaw clenched unhappily, but he let go of her top. Lilah pulled it down over her chest with one hand, the other reaching up to touch his cheek.

“I’ll be home soon.”

Lips pouting, he nodded. In between one blink and the next he was gone, though Lilah was left with the distinct feeling of his mouth pressed firmly to hers.

She was right, though. The door to the bathroom opened and Kate wandered through it, towel drying her hair. Lilah sat up and flicked on the bedside light, rubbing at her eyes.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Lilah waved her off, “I needed to get up, anyways. You take all the hot water?”

Kate smirked, “For the price of these rooms, it should take at least three days to run out of hot water.”

“You can thank your resident sun god for that,” Lilah drawled as she rose from the bed, picking up her clothes for the day from where she’d set them the night before.

“You think he takes tithes?”

There was a strange kind of sarcasm in those words. No bite. Just barely touched with the dark amusement that came with doing the things that they’d had to do in the last year and a half. It peeked out periodically from behind all their lips, cut through tension, acknowledging the oddity that was their lives.

Lilah shrugged, “I can ask him next time we’re in the temple.”

Kate paused from where she was combing through her dark locks, “He has a temple?”

“Yeah,” Lilah answered from the bathroom door, “I mean that literally.”

“Weird.”

“You have no idea.”

After showering and getting ready for the day, they headed out into the city. Lilah managed to Google Translate her way through ordering the pair of them a coffee that they drank while they walked. The church was pretty big. Scoping out the entrances and exits took most of the morning. By the time the noon services started up, Lilah’s legs were demanding a break.

The pews were filled with churchgoers as they took a spot near the back of the sanctuary. Lilah spent about ten minutes distracted by the artwork and the architecture before she realized that Kate was softly crying.

“What’s wrong?”

Sniffing, Kate shook her head, “I haven’t, you know, been in a church in a long time.”

“Oh.”

Lilah was not good with soothing crying people. She looked awkwardly around, grateful that most people were focused on the sermon ahead of them and not the weird American girls behind.

“You know my dad was a preacher, right?”

“I,” Lilah whispered, “Did not know that.”

To be fair, not a one of their crew delved too deeply into each other’s backgrounds. That was the trade off: they worked together as a team to hunt down rogue culebras, might even share a few stories of their more notorious exploits—no digging into old wounds.

“He was.”

“Oh.”

“After my mom died, he kind of...lost God. He drank a lot, and I had to take care of my brother and me.”

“That must have been hard.”

“Yeah,” Kate said, her voice cracking, “And then all of this shit with Richie and Seth started happening. And then Amaru. I thought I’d never feel right in church again.”

“Oh.”

Kate cut her a look, “Stop saying that.”

“Sorry,” Lilah said on reflex. “I don’t know what else to say.”

Shaking her head, Kate lifted a shoulder weakly, “Nothing to say, really.” Then, “I miss it. Miss the ritual of it—praise and worship, sermon, invitation, closing. You know exactly what to expect.”

Ah. Lilah lifted her toes in her winter boots, knowing what Kate meant, and not knowing how best to respond. She sat next to the woman throughout the sermon, not a word of it in English. Then, when the nonverbal cue for prayer sank into the crowd, she tapped Kate’s arm and jerked her head to the side.

“Now?” Kate asked.

Lilah smirked, “Why not?”

While the congregation’s heads were bowed, giving them an opening. while all eyes were closed and no one was looking about, Lilah and Kate disappeared into a back hallway and towards a series of meeting rooms. Lots of unlocked doors. They moved through the halls, ducking into a bathroom when steps sounded a little too close.

Eventually, they found the pastor’s chambers. Lilah was pretty fucking shocked when Kate pulled out Seth’s lock pick set and went to work. Impressed, she leaned against the wall opposite the door, keeping watch while the other woman worked.

It took several tries and one foul oath, but Kate got the door open. They slipped inside, and Lilah tapped her phone to pull up the picture Brasa had sent her. She showed it to Kate, her eyes scanning the shelves.

And there it was. Sitting unceremoniously on a low shelf, holding up a set of biblical commentaries. Lilah paused, thinking that this was deceptively easy. Gilt in gold, the reliquary was formed in Gothic angles and sharp spires. Serving as a stand for the knife, one could be forgiven for almost missing its significance.

With care, Lilah checked it for a pressure switch, then pulled the knife from the stand. As she stood, she held it out for Kate’s inspection.

She looked at it, looked at Lilah, and shrugged, “I guess that’s it.”

“I guess,” Lilah muttered, slipping it into her bag.

They tip toed back into the sanctuary, right as the invitation started. People were walking forward, taking the hands of church elders, making commitments to God. Lilah sat in the pew with her pilfered relic, feeling as if the room had tilted ever so slightly to the left. As soon as was socially acceptable, she rose and headed out towards the street.

On the walk back to the hotel, the sun beginning its descent towards the horizon, Lilah shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat, “You know, when I think of all the jobs we’ve pulled, this one was surprisingly anticlimactic.”

Kate nodded, pushing her hair out of her face, “After the year I’ve had, I could use a little anti-climactic.”

Lilah had to agree. After one too many high intensity situations, the ease of this theft was so very welcome. And strange.

When they reached the hotel, they took advantage of the little restaurant at the back of the building. Lilah ordered a nice wine and a pasta with a heavy cream sauce. Though it smelled amazing, she found that she could only pick at it, full after just a few bites. She wasn’t surprised. The adrenaline of having taken something that didn’t belong to her often suppressed her appetite.

Despite only eating a small portion from her plate, Lilah tipped the wait staff well. The meal was delicious, even if she wasn’t in the mood to eat. No need to take it out on anyone else.

When they returned to their room, Kate flung herself haphazardly on the bed, her boots hanging off the end. She flicked on the TV, saying, “You want to tell me about this knife ritual thing?”

Lilah opened her mouth to speak, and found that she didn’t have words. Brasa had been remarkably reticent to give her details about what they needed to do to close the portal.

“I honestly don’t know,” she answered, finally, “We use the staff, the cup, the knife, and some of Brasa’s blood—that’s as far as I’ve gotten.”

Lifting a brow, Kate regarded her steadily, “No magic incantation?”

Huffing, Lilah rolled her eyes, “I mean, probably. There’s always some sort of magic rhyme to shout into the abyss, right?”

“For sure.”

With Kate momentarily distracted by the television, Lilah pulled her phone out and tapped out a text.

L: Got it.

She set the phone down, intending to get comfortable on the bed. No sooner had she sat down to remove her boots did it vibrate twice, indicating a text. Lilah picked it up, tapping on the screen.

B: Excellent. ETA?

Smirking, Lilah pulled up the keyboard.

L: Tomorrow, late. Midnight, maybe?

His response was almost immediate.

B: You plan to leave in the afternoon?

L: Depends on when Kate wakes up.

There was no immediate answer, and Lilah set the phone aside. She tugged off her boots and socks, leaning back into the pillows.

“Have you noticed,” Kate started, her voice cutting through the noise of the television, “Changes?”

Lilah cast her a look of confusion, her brows coming together.

“Since you and Brasa got together. Like, physically?”

Thinking about it, Lilah pursed her lips, “I don’t think so?”

The sentence came out more like a question because she honestly didn’t really know. With everything that had been going on outside of her, it hadn’t occurred to Lilah to look inwardly.

“I mean,” Kate continued, one hand rotating, her palm pointed towards the ceiling, “Obviously, you know about the immortality.”

Lilah nodded, though the concept had been purposely set aside so that she could deal with the more pressing matters of the bond and her growing relationship. She figured that she had plenty of time to deal with it later.

With a ‘tsk’, Kate reached over and grabbed the remote. She shut off the TV and threw the control down. Then, she scooted over to the edge of the bed and pulled her legs up and underneath her.

“I knew it would be different...after. I knew things would change—more than they already had.”

Lilah nodded. Different was all that Lilah had known for so long that it had made the complete circle all the way around to perfectly normal. Looking into Kate’s face, though, Lilah could tell that their unique circumstances, the odd path of their lives, wasn’t all that the other woman meant.

Kate tucked her hair behind her ear, “I haven’t slept in two weeks.”

Spluttering, Lilah’s brows rose in surprise, one hand covering her mouth.

“I mean,” Kate continued, leaning forward in concern, “not really. Not like I used to.”

Hands up in question, Lilah asked, “What the fuck does that mean?”

Kate sat back, her shoulders dropping, “I,” she stopped and shook her head, “I sleep maybe a few hours a night, wake up, stay awake for a few hours, and then sleep another hour. That’s it.”

Looking around the room, Lilah found herself once again trying to find words of comfort. She was not good at this.

“That must suck.”

Kate, thankfully, laughed, “It does. I tried everything. Sleeping pills, weed, hot baths, I ordered a special tea from the internet. Do not recommend, by the way.”

Mouth in half a smile, Lilah rolled her neck, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“And that’s not all of it,” Kate went on, “I don’t get hungry, not really. I eat. I can eat. But, if I don’t think about it, I won’t.” She fixed Lilah with a hopeful look, “Is it like that with you?”

It took Lilah a moment to think of her answer, “No.”

All the air went out of Kate. She picked at the bedspread, “Oh.”

“Its still new,” Lilah said quickly, unable to take Kate’s down expression. “I’m just now learning how to use the bond.” Her eyes turned to the ceiling, “For the first, like, six months I didn’t even acknowledge that it existed, let alone participate.”

Kate huffed, “Oh, Richie wasn’t about to let that happen. He said he’d spent enough time knowing and not acting.”

Lilah frowned, “What does that mean?”

Expression indulgent, Kate said, “They know it immediately. They know it.”

Brasa had known, had said as much in the first minute of conversation. Lilah had been too intent on getting away to ask questions. Now, she wished she had. The book on bonds had been helpful for troubleshooting and basic knowledge. The way in which bonds worked, how they changed the bonded, was vague, at best.

“Does…” Kate trailed off, her eyes looking away, pink tinting her cheeks, “Does he, you know, feed you?”

She blinked, “I mean, yeah. Usually after he takes it from me.”

Nodding, Kate’s gaze seemed to lose focus, “For the first two months, Richie would insist on it, every day.  He said that it would make me stronger.”

“Brasa said that same thing.”

Another nod, “I do feel stronger. There are mornings where I wake up and I feel like I could run a hundred miles.”

Lilah barked out a laugh, “Maybe I need to insist a bit. Get me some of that energy. With everything that has been going on, I’m constantly tired.”

The treaty, the bond, Seth, Benny, learning a her new role, the injured, all of it was building up into one  big ball of awful. Lilah had to constantly remind herself that, as stressed as she was, her bondmate was likely infinitely more frustrated and exhausted. The thought made her reach out for him. He felt stable, but his side of the bond was pulled somewhat shut. Open enough that she could tell he was physically well, but closed to any detail as to his feelings. Lilah pulled back as gently as she could, not wanting to disturb his privacy.

They watched a few more episodes of really bad reality television while Lilah double checked their flight itinerary. She’d gotten a confirmation email to her inbox for a car service after lunch. Everything just sort of fell right into place. They’d gotten what they’d come there for, their exit was prepped, all they had to do was pack up and get in the car.

Lilah stared at the ceiling, half listening to the reunion episode of the show. Over the din of yelling voices and accusations, she began to feel...a little bit useless. The planning, the coordinating, the logistics of every job she’d ever done had been something she’d taken care of personally. In this case, all she’d had to manage was getting a partner that, in the end of it all, the job hadn’t required. And then, everything had gone so god damned smooth that is made Lilah suspicious.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Kate pushing from the bed and tugging on her boots, “I’m going to go to the evening service. You want to come?”

Eyes narrow, Lilah asked, “To the church we just robbed?”

“Yeah.”

“No thanks.”

Kate shrugged and grabbed her coat, slipping the hotel key into her back pocket, “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Have fun,” Lilah deadpanned, shaking her head.

She watched as Kate gave her a little wave and headed out, the door closing softly behind her. The room settled into relative silence, only the drone of the TV to keep her company. Rubbing at her eyes, Lilah rolled from the bed and grabbed her pajamas.

The shower was perfunctory, going through the motions to get the grime of the day off her skin. She toweled off and pulled on her clothes. Dirty laundry in hand, Lilah stepped out of the steam filled bathroom. She tossed her used clothes into her bag and stood near her bed, staring at nothing.

Annoyed with the newest episode of the show, Lilah grabbed the remote from Kate’s bed and shut it off, leaving the room completely silent. She continued to stand there, looking at nothing. Lilah stood there long enough for the heat to kick on, startling her. She glared at it and rolled her eyes, catching her reflection in the mirror.

There were smudges from the last of the day’s makeup underneath her eyes, but the shadows weren’t there. She leaned in, noting that the usual breakout along her chin had cleared up, the skin smooth. The whites of her eyes were stark and clear against her irises. Maybe there had been changes. Maybe Lilah had been too distracted to notice.

Her hair was still a bit thin along her temples, the permanent line between her brows still there from near constant frowning at a computer screen. The scar from when she’d fallen and cracked her chin open in that bathtub at age five remained, a thin line just beneath her bottom lip.

Maybe not too many changes.

The air in the room rippled. Gasping, Lilah braced herself with her hands out. Stillness. Feeling the air stutter in and out of her lungs, she glanced around, looking for danger. When nothing but the sound of the heater kicking off met her expectant gaze, she dropped her hands.

Another ripple, this time with the accompanying scent of coffee and caramel.

“Brasa?” she called out to the empty room.

Ripple.

“I am here, querida.”

Lilah spun in place, an aborted shout stuck to the back of her throat. She clocked the broad shoulders, the warm brown eyes, and sighed.

“I think I’ve asked you not to scare me like that.”

Ticking his head to the side, he offered her an unrepentant smile, “But then I wouldn’t get to hear your heart beat so beautifully in excitement.”

“There are other ways to achieve that, you know,” she said ruefully, one hand coming to rest where her heart was, indeed, beating a pounding rhythm.

Brows quirking, Brasa gathered her to his body, arms folding around her waist, “You have a point.”

“Of course I do,” she retorted, rising on her toes to kiss him briefly, “What brings you here?”

He pressed his forehead into the skin of her neck, breathing deep, “I missed you.”

Arms draped over his shoulders, Lilah laughed softly, “Its only been a day. We’ve been apart for much longer.”

Letting out a long breath, Brasa said, “I disliked it then as much then as I do now.”

Lilah tightened her grip on him, swaying a bit, “I’ll be home tomorrow.”

“Too long,” he groused with a shake of his head.

She pulled back, cupping his jaw with both hands, “Its faster than I anticipated. I could be gone another whole day.”

The hands on the small of her back clenched, and Lilah heard the fabric of her t shirt tear. Gasping in shock, she twisted her body and found that he ripped the shirt up to about the middle of her back.

Saying his name in censure, Lilah stepped back, holding the shirt away from her body and assessing the damage in the mirror. There was no saving that shirt, not without a sewing machine that she not only didn’t have, but definitely didn’t know how to use.

Firm hands turned her so that he could look at it, and Lilah caught the banked pride in his expression as he tugged, “Oops.”

“Oops?” Her voice was high and incredulous, “That’s all you have to say? ‘Oops’?”

He shrugged, his palms following the line of her spine until the fabric bunched around his wrists, “Perhaps it is an improvement.” When she fixed him with a doubtful look, he went on, “Perhaps I can make it up to you.”

Her brows lifted in interest, but she said nothing. He took that as a ‘yes’, his hands slowly rounding her waist to rest below her breasts. Watching in the mirror as his hands encircled them, gently rolling her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

Humming against her skin, Brasa played with her lazily, the distinct lack of urgency lulling her into a low simmering arousal. Lilah leaned into him, her hands resting on the dresser to keep her balance. In the mirror, her reflection undulated. The long line of her throat exposed as she tipped her head back against his shoulder.

“Beautiful,” he groaned, teeth catching her ear.

Lilah focused on his face in the mirror, watched as his eyes devoured her image. His hand rucked up her shirt, squeezing her breasts together, their touch no longer teasing.

Mouth laying sloppy kisses wherever he could reach, Brasa leaned his weight into her. He pinned her to the dresser, shifting her to the side when one of the pulls dug into her belly. Lilah arched back, catching his mouth, the angle too acute for her to get anything more than the barest of kisses.

She whined, tugging on his arms so that he would let her turn around. He held her still, and she could feel the shape his mouth against her skin, spreading into a wide smile.

“Did you need something?”

Lilah grit her teeth against the honey of his words, the way they melted over her, the cajoling tone peeking out from underneath. After so long where he’d given in to her easily, after he’d offered no quarter in the building of her pleasure, the teasing chafed.

She writhed, shimmying her hips against the erection behind her, trying to get him to break. He took it, took every bit of her want, absorbing it so that she only got the tiniest ricochet in return. It left her wanting with such force that she could keep the needy moans inside.

It might have been his name she was chanting, might also have any one of the nonsense syllables that he had been known to pull out of her. All Lilah knew was that her core was clenching down on nothing when it could be fluttering around his hands, or better yet his cock.

Brasa repeated his question, his voice dropping down into his chest so that it came out in a harsh rasp. Lilah nodded, biting her lip. Through the bond, she felt his pleasure, felt how satisfied he was to watch her fall apart in his hands.

Teasing fingertips traced the waistband of her shorts, dipping just below, “Is this it?”

Again, she nodded, her eyes squeezing shut as he pushed down past the elastic to rest all four fingers against her mound. She widened her stance and rocked forward into them, getting a little bit of needed friction.

“Fucking wet,” he groaned, one arm wrapping around her middle and pulling her up and into his body, “You’re ready for me?”

For the third time, she nodded, relieved when he pulled down her shorts just below the crease of her ass, his other hand pressing her forward so that she was leaned over the top of the dresser. She heard the sound of shifting fabric, and then he was pressed against her opening.

With the taut band of her shorts cutting into the meat of her thighs, Lilah could only drop her forehead to the dresser as he pushed steadily forward. He was careful with the initial thrust, hands massaging.

“Good?” she heard from over the pounding of her ears.

Rising, Lilah rotated her hips, seating him deeper and relishing his sharp inhale, “Very good.”

One hand grabbed her chin, turning her head so that he could kiss her, his tongue dipping inside. He kissed her like that as he pumped slowly inside, taking up once more his unhurried pace. Lilah swallowed around a dry throat, her hands closing into little fists.

“More,” she cried out, hoping to coax him into a faster, harder pace.

He chuckled. And though his pace remained the same, the intensity kicked up a notch. He buried his cock inside her all the way each time, the intermittent sound of skin slapping against skin overtaking the silence of the room. Slow. Deep. Unhurried. Brasa fucked her as if he had all the time in the world, as if he wasn’t at all concerned about coming.

It built inside her in intervals that were so small Lilah barely noticed them until it was too late, until her pussy was contracting around him in dizzy pleasure. Brasa snarled, his hips grinding against her ass, one hand holding her steady as he arched over her body.

Lilah relaxed her upper body against the dresser, blinking slowly as Brasa grabbed her hips and pulled them back hard. The air was punched from her as he did it again. And again. He got another five or six good thrusts in before he hissed and she felt him pulse.

When it was over, Brasa pulled out and adjusted her short before doing the same with his down pants. He wrapped his arms around her and walked her back to the bed. Lilah went, reaching back to ruffled his curls.

She hummed as he helped her to lay down, his big body molding to her side, “That was nice.”

He pet her hair, “I’ll do it again when you get back.”

“Promise?”

[amydancepants-peralta]

Jake getting adventurous and sneaking a vibrator into Amys underwear and she has to sit through an interview as he toys with her

Ok so I tweaked this a little and this came out of nowhere but I really love the idea of this so ... find it under the cut! 🙊

He waits until she’s well into reciting the third paragraph of Subsection Eight before running his thumb over the button in his pocket, pressing once to keep the device at its lowest speed.  

To her credit, there is only the slightest falter in her voice, short enough to be considered a tickle in her throat by anyone other than him, and he takes great pleasure in knowing that while the tickle does exist, it is actually much further down.  

He keeps the vibration on low for the rest of her speech - subtle enough for Amy to be aware of its existence, not quite strong enough to gain anything more than heightened senses.  Alternates between the on and off button once her part is over, tampering the urge to smile as she keeps her gaze steadily focused on the boardroom in front of her, clearly refusing to break the facade that everything isn’t Completely Normal.   

Her hand lands with a quiet slap on his inner thigh fifteen minutes later as the vibrator begins moving steadily at full speed, and he’s pretty sure he’s got this win in the bag.  

It had all started out as an idle bet (admittedly, like a lot of their shenanagoogles do) - an attempt to make what had threatened to be a boring day into something far more interesting.  The dangling carrot of a glowing evaluation had led to Jake signing up for the next HR seminar - this one being held at another precinct downtown - and Amy, after such a stellar display of preparation at the nine-nine’s turn, had been invited back to show off her ‘impressively professional portfolio of knowledge on the topic’.

(He’s pretty sure that detail alone had turned Amy on before their bet had even started, but that was just an added benefit.)

The Lock-n-Play panty vibe was a relatively new addition to their repertoire - among the few items recently purchased from their preferred sex shop - but one that was quickly becoming their favourite, if only for it’s handy magnetic tabs that kept the vibe in place (because really, is there any universe where Amy Santiago isn’t a massive fan of a well-placed set of tabs?).  

She had been halfway through casually mentioning (read: straight-up bragging) her quoted professional manner as they got dressed this morning when the idea had come to Jake, the toy’s remote still sitting on his dresser from it’s weekend workout and catching his eye as he reached for his watch.  He hadn’t ever thought that she’d actually go through with it - which is on him, really, because his wife rarely steps down from a challenge - and mentioned it merely as a passing joke until he noticed the spark of interest in his wife’s eyes, and realised that there was a chance that this could actually happen.

The conversation was quick: their terms clear.  Amy would wear the vibe in her underwear, with Jake having sole possession of the remote.  He could activate it anytime he liked, as long as he adhered to the kill sign (three quick squeezes of his wrist) if actioned, and the only thing Amy had to do was not break her Professional Sergeant at a Seminar role.  If Jake won, he got to choose their movies for the next two weeks.  If victory went to Amy, he had to eat a salad for lunch every single day for a fortnight.

(There would also be the added benefit of nightly foot rubs, but given the baby that was currently growing in his wife’s uterus, nightly massages were kind of a given.)  

The stakes weren’t necessarily high, but both of them loved to win; and Jake would be straight-up lying if he didn’t admit that just the idea of his wife secretly being buzzed to climax in a boardroom full of strangers didn’t turn him on more than a little.  

From his position at the front of the room, Andrew The Presenter switches over to non-verbal communications, and for no reason other than sheer curiosity Jake switches the vibrator into it’s highest mode, biting the inside of his cheek as Amy’s shoulders jump in surprise.

It only takes a minute before she shifts forward in her chair, resting on her elbows before wriggling slightly in her seat; and to anybody that cared to pay attention to her and Jake’s position at the back of the room it would have looked like nothing more than a restless woman waking up her limbs.  But Jake knew better - knew that the tip of the vibe raised slightly, ergonomically designed to cup a woman’s clit in all the right ways - and there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Amy was maximising the opportunity for pleasure while it lasted.  

He gives her another twenty seconds, waiting until the wriggling seems to have stopped before pressing the off button once again, not even pretending to ignore the exasperated look she throws him from over her shoulder.  He gives her a wink, to which she responds with a roll of her eyes, and he is always going to be in love with what they have together.  

She pulls him aside during the coffee break, leading him down an unfamiliar hallway into a stationery supply cupboard (her knowledge of its presence, he assumes instinctual); pulling him in for a hungry kiss as soon as she hears the lock click into place.  Their makeout session is hurried and passionate - the kind of teeth-gnashing, body-pawing kisses you give each other when you know there’s not enough time for what you really crave - and as they move to return back to the group he offers her the chance to call off the bet, no questions asked.  (The foot rubs after all, were already a given, and he’s pretty sure that stack of green stuff they put on top of nachos counted as a salad.)  But she stops in her tracks, eyes blazing as she presses a hand to his chest and gives her answer in no uncertain terms: 

Don’t you dare stop.

It’s the clear arousal in her voice that keeps Jake from activating the vibrator again for another forty minutes, waiting until a slideshow on Something Boring begins playing before sliding his hands back into the pockets of his hoodie, sliding his thumb casually over the power button and slowly working the vibe back up to it’s previous level.  

Her hand lands back on his upper thigh after another few minutes, the grip tightening slightly when he presses the button again, and he takes his hand out his hoodie, grabbing her wrist and moving it towards his own - a silent reminder that he’ll stop in an instant, if she only asked.  But she wriggles her hand out of his grasp, returning to the previous position, leaning back in her chair in what completely fails to be a casual pose.  Her fingers creep towards his inner thigh, a movement that undoubtedly brings his growing hard-on to her attention, and she leans forwards again to let out a shaky breath.   

The high level buzzing is quietly audible through her uniform now, perhaps more noticeable because his imagination wants it to be, and her ribs begin to expand and contract at a steady pace.  

Jake knows that if he keeps this up, Amy is absolutely going to climax - perhaps too far into the sensations the vibrations were giving to realise that she would be doing so in the middle of a seminar - but he also knows that his beautiful wife is not quiet when she comes.  It’s one of the many (many) things he loves about her; the clear display of unbridled passion that courses through her, the way her voice tends to shake a little as she calls out his name - or yes, or fuck, or a combination of the above.  

But she hasn’t given the signal, and there is a good portion of his blood that is most definitely not pumping through his brain anymore, and so he obeys the silent instruction, and keeps his finger on the increase button.

She excuses herself a few minutes later, standing quickly and offering an apologetic smile, pointing to her growing baby bump as the reason for nature calling.  Her boots tap quickly across the tiled floor as she exits, head ducked down low to convey the urgency of her steps (a movement that he is certain is not an act).  

He waits another couple of minutes before switching off the vibe, hoping the remote holds enough range; and his phone buzzes shortly after, the notification on his locked screen telling him that Babe ♥️ has just sent him an image.  And while he’s absolutely bursting at the seams to unlock and look, he also knows that it will most certainly lead to a wet patch on the front of his jeans, and there really is no coming back from that.

And so he trains his attention back to the Manual of Boredom in front of him, reading through various scenarios involving Employee A and Colleague D, all the while trying desperately to get his mind to focus on arithmetic … asparagus … Scully’s foot fungus … all the genuinely unsexy things in life.  His phone vibrates again, another text from his wife causing his mind to nearly implode, and time has somehow completely come to a standstill.  

Amy leans in to kiss his cheek when she returns, using the closeness of her position to whisper in his ear just how hard she’d just come, and Jake absolutely needs this seminar to end now - right now, please oh god, end now.  

It takes another hour before they have a lunch break - a solid hour of Jake running through a breakdown of all Transformers - Autobots, Dinobots and Decepticons inclusive - and when Amy finally stands, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the parking lot he follows willingly, by now completely unable to contain a gigantic smile from taking over his face.

She drives their car up to the very top of the garage, parking in an empty spot right at the edge of the otherwise abandoned section before sliding over the gears and settling onto his lap.  Her nimble fingers find the lever to the side, dropping the seat’s backing towards the rear, his zipper descending just as quickly.  

It doesn’t last long - both of them way too close to the edge for it to be anything but quick - but by the time they need to head back to the seminar it’s fairly safe to say that Jake no longer has a hangup about having sex in a car in a garage.  

She packs a salad for his lunch the following morning, pulling him in for a longer-than-normal kiss as he lets out a defeated sigh, and while Jake knows that while he technically lost the bet, they both got to have some pretty great orgasms yesterday and really, how could that ever be considered a loss?

(and when he receives an email a year later, reminding him of an upcoming refresher course on HR, he absolutely sets up a plan to raise the stakes for Sexy Seminar, version 2.0.)

[aloysiavirgata]

Love’s Austere and Lonely Offices

Title:  Love’s Austere and Lonely Offices

Author: Aloysia Virgata

Rating: PG 

Words: 5758

Timeline: Season 9

Summary:   “ A letter is in fact the only device for combining solitude and good company.” -- Jacques Barzun

Author’s Notes: This fic was written in 2015. I couldn't bear the thought of their only communication in all that time being the "Dearest Dana" letters. (Which I added to just a teeny-weeny bit. Also added a little to Scully's Carterlogue to William.) Scully quotes from (what else?) Moby Dick and Mulder from The Divine Comedy. The title is from Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden. 

Fe3O4 is magnetite and R2NCl is chloramine. I know my little ads are cryptic, so there's an addendum at the end for those interested parties. (See the end of the work for more notes.)  

Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, May 26 2001 In this world, shipmates, Sin that pays its way can travel freely, and without a passport; whereas Virtue, if a pauper, is stopped at all frontiers. R2NCl + H2O = Bellefleur + Braddock Heights? So claims a woman with node at C5 **** Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, May 29 2001 These have not the hope to die. Developments? Nothing on my end. **** E-Mail From: Trust_No1@mail.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 18 Jun 2001 Things are calm for now and hopefully communication can be somewhat regular for a time. I have a cash-under-the-table job at the moment and it covers basic needs. I know you wanted to come, but this is no life for a child. I will be home as soon as I am able. I know that goes without saying, but it makes me feel better to say it anyway. I have to go now. Tell me about William. **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 18 Jun 2001 Mulder, It's so good to hear from you, you have no idea. Have you made any progress yet? There have been strange goings-on since you left, but I don't know what to make of any of it. I don't know whom to trust right now and just tell everyone I cannot contact you. I have not been able to make any sense of my last inquiry and am at a standstill. Please tell me everything you discover and let me know what I can do. Don't leave me in the dark on this, Mulder. You can't protect us that way. Let me be of use. Things are fine here. William eats well and sleeps less well, but I nap when I can. He's growing nicely and can focus his eyes for very long periods already and tracks objects at two feet away. His head control is excellent and he is already making deliberate reaches for objects rather than just grasping reflexively. He makes a gurgling sound if I run my finger up the midline of his foot. In addition to snapshots and videos, I have been keeping a journal of all of his changes for when you get back. My mother helps as much as she can but the truth is I prefer to be alone. She wants to talk, and doesn't understand that I just can't right now. I think she's afraid of the quiet and fills it up with noise. She talks to me but doesn't say anything. You know how to let me be silent, Mulder. I miss that. Frohike says William looks like me and Byers says he looks like you and Langly says he looks like Jack Ruby. Which is pretty much what you'd expect to hear from the three of them. Write when you can. Pictures attached. **** E-Mail From: Trust_No1@mail.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 22 Jun 2001 He still looks like Skinner to me, your feeble protestations of fidelity aside. He's got your eyes, Scully, and I wonder whose warped sense of humor he's going to claim. I'm not surprised he's ahead of the developmental curve. You read him Brian Greene while you were pregnant. That sets the bar rather high for a baby. Let your mother in. You're all she has nearby and she won't forgive herself for everything that's happened if you don't. Smile and nod, Scully. You do it better than anyone I know. Learn to let people love you. I haven't found much yet because I don't even know what the hell I'm looking for. **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 23 Jun 2001 We can only hope that his sense of humor is all his own. I think our particular brand of amusement wouldn't go over too well with the preschool set. Can you imagine Career Day, Mulder? We're going to have to be vague. Pictures of William attached, including one of him eating my hair. Have to run. Stay safe. **** E-Mail From: Trust_No1@mail.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 28 Jun 2001 We'd be a hit at Career Day. You could tell them about your Invisible Guy Autopsy. And you know all the kids would want to hear about my time in low orbit. I'm leaving here soon, so it may be a while before I contact you again. Thank you for the pictures. I cannot believe how William has grown. He looks like his own man now instead of just a newborn. I know I once said I never saw you as a mother before, but I must not have been paying attention. You're beautiful, Scully. I miss you both constantly. **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 29 Jun 2001 Mulder, I hope nothing serious has happened to necessitate this move and that you have made some headway. I am still having no luck. I'm going to start teaching at Quantico soon. I feel like I'm abandoning you in some way, Mulder. Abandoning our work. But I can't do field work like I used to - not with William - and Doggett and Reyes are doing a good job. I think you'd be impressed. William has been going to sleep at around 10 at night and sleeping until 6 or so. He is such an easy baby and already a hit with the ladies. I bring him to work sometimes and he's quite popular. Skinner gave him a stuffed McGruff the Crime Dog, but he prefers the doll you gave him and sleeps with it now. He's still rather small for the basketball, but that was never my sport anyway. I played field hockey, so free-throw instruction falls to you. Attached is a video of William laying on Skinner's desk. Stay safe. **** E-Mail From: Trust_No1@mail.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 19 Jul 2001 He spit up on Skinner's desk? I could watch that all day. You're damned lucky it wasn't Kersh's or you'd be freezing your ass off in a Minnesota field office right now. And of course he's a hit with the ladies, Scully. Not everyone's as hard of a sell on the Mulder men as you. I made it to Wal-Mart and printed out some of those pictures you sent. Keep them coming. Don't ever feel like you're abandoning the work. The most important thing is that you and William stay safe and chasing mutants and government conspirators isn't really conducive to that. Sometimes the only thing that keeps me going is the knowledge that you're okay. The job at Quantico will be good for you both. I'm doing a little air guitar of "Hot For Teacher" right now… **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 23 Jul 2001 Mulder, I'm sorry it has taken me a bit to get back to you. My mother and I took William to the beach for a couple of days. I dipped his feet in the surf and I was reminded that seawater has a similar chemical makeup to both blood and amniotic fluid. We crawled from those primordial seas so many millions of years ago and carry some of it inside of us to this day. I know you get seasick, but I think we are hardwired to crave the ocean and I want to take William sailing when he's older. I think he has the genes for it. You may not be a sailor, Mulder, but you know the unquenchable lure of the unknown and thrill of riding out a storm. I had a good time with my mom and tried to do as you suggested. She asked after you and I am confident that whatever else she thinks of my life, she accepts that you're an integral part of it. I start teaching next month and I must confess to some anxiety. It has been so long since I stood in front of a lecture hall. I've gotten used to an audience of one for my technical soliloquies. And Van Halen, Mulder? Really? What happened to the King? **** E-Mail From: Trust_No1@mail.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 4 Aug 2001 Was it Chincoteague, Scully? It's right around Pony Penning Day, isn't it? When he's bigger we'll get a place out in the country and let him pick out a pony of his own. And hell, I'll take some Dramamine and we'll all go sailing too. Get out your list-making paper and get to work. I'll be back soon and we'll have the rest of our lives to get it done. P.S. - I always kind of got turned on by your technical soliloquies, so you may want to be careful around some of your more discriminating students. **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 5 Aug 2001 Mulder, We went to Assateague, actually, but he did see the ponies and we found horseshoe crabs washed up on the shore. Despite 445 million years of existence, they've scarcely changed at all. It makes you think, I suppose. All the work we humans do to better ourselves and horseshoe crabs have attained perfection. And a pony?! That's a pretty heavy upgrade from your fish. I was thinking we could move more slowly from Cyprinidae to Perissodactyla. Perhaps a stop at Rodentia would be appropriate if you want to venture into mammalian territory. (Are you getting turned on by this?) William holds his head up and looks around without any trouble at all. He wants desperately to sit up and is so frustrated that he can't manage it yet. Any news? **** Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, August 13, 2001 For where the instrument of intelligence is added to brute power and evil will, mankind is powerless in its own defense. Fe3O4 + R2NCl = ? **** Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, August 15, 2001 And some certain significance lurks in all things, else all things are little worth... I'll let you know if I hear anything. **** E-Mail From: knitterific@earthlink.net To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 20 Aug 2001 Let me know if we can move lunch on Wednesday to 12:30. I printed out pictures from our trip and made you some copies. I will bring William's Celeste Sun toy with me at lunch if that's okay with you. Charlie, Larissa and the kids are coming in for Christmas this year. Talk to you soon. Mom **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: knitterific@earthlink.net Date: 21 Aug 2001 Mom, That would be fine. Thank you for printing the pictures for me, and William will be fine without Celeste until Wednesday. **** Letter received on September 8, 2001 William Mulder 107 E. Cordova St. Apt. 35 Washington, DC., 01833 8-14-01 Dear William, I can only hope this finds its way to you but even if it doesn't, it's something I had to get on paper. Walking away from you and your mother is the single most difficult thing I have ever done in my life. I did it for reasons that I tell myself are right and noble, so why do I feel like I've let you both down? All I want is for you to be safe and I tell myself that leaving and searching for answers is the best way to do that. But the truth is, William, that your old man isn't making much headway here. Your mother sends me pictures and videos of you and sometimes at night I can close my eyes and recall your new-earthling smell. But it's not the same. I know your mother and I know that every night she shows you my picture and tells you I'll be home soon. I don't want to make a liar of her and I promise you both I'm doing the best I can. Every day I fight the urge to let this all go and come home, but I feel I have more to accomplish before I return. One day I hope you will understand all of this. One day I hope I will. I have no real wisdom to offer you, but let me at least tell you this. I have made many mistakes in my life, but through them all, I have tried to do what I feel is honest. And I have learned - as you doubtlessly will - that the right thing is not often the easy thing. I don't know what this world is going to be like when you are older or what role you will have in it, but to thine own self be true, William. I hope to see you soon. And in case your mother forgets to tell you: Elvis > Three Dog Night Hips before hands The Knicks will always be better than the Miami Heat Love, Your father **** E-Mail From: Trust_No1@mail.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 12 Sep 2001 Scully, let me know you're okay. I know you don't work at the Pentagon, but please check in. On the move again, but will write as soon as possible. **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 13 Sep 2001 Mulder, We are fine and no one we know was hurt. While it feels as though the world is falling apart, knowing you're okay gives me something to hang on to. There's a long line of people waiting for this computer so I must run, but I got your letter to William. Be careful. We miss you. **** Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, September 17, 2001 There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes this whole universe for a vast practical joke… Quantum suicide? **** Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, September 18, 2001 And downward to the secret things we went Biloxi MI - 6/ 86 Camden NJ - 11/91 **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 20 Sep 2001 Mulder, Thank you for your help on the case. Do you have any updates on your end? Not much to tell here. I'm enjoying teaching very much; the students are so engaged and interested. It's a nice change from the endless parade of world-weary cops and agents. Were we ever that fresh-faced and eager? Thinking of you and aching to see you. **** E-Mail From: Trust_No1@mail.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 23 Sep 2001 It is no longer safe for me to contact you. **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 24 Sep 2001 Mulder, What's going on? Please find a way to let me know what's happening. **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 13 Oct 2001 Mulder, William and I baked a cake and we sang Happy Birthday to your picture. We went shopping for presents and William picked out an oven mitt. I tried to steer him towards the Yankees DVD collection, but he was adamant that you needed protective gear. I have begun to entertain theories of genetic memory. Please let us know you're all right. Many happy returns of the day. **** E-Mail From: rocbronzin@rutgers.edu To: dana_scully@fbi.gov Date: 17 Oct 2001 Hey there partner. Wanted to thank you again for the CPR. They don't really cover that in entomology doctoral programs though, so I'm hard pressed to return the favor. I know you're a mother but I assume you still eat so let me know if you want to grab a bite next time I'm in DC. **** E-Mail From: dana_scully@fbi.gov To: rocbronzin@rutgers.edu Date: 19 Oct 2001 Dr. Bronzino, Thank you very much for the offer, but it would not be appropriate at this time. Dana Scully **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 25 Oct 2001 Mulder, I know you can't tell me where you are and I am trying to respect what you're doing but this feels impossible sometimes. Not everything has to be a crusade, does it? You wanted to find your sister and while it wasn't the resolution you wanted, you found out the truth. Isn't that enough? We can have a life now. We have a son who needs both of his parents. Let this go, Mulder. **** E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 4 Nov 2001 Mulder, I don't even know why I'm writing this. I don't even know if you're alive. Attached are pictures of William in his Halloween costume. He went as a skunk and can sit up perfectly. **** Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, November 21, 2001 Lost: Norwegian Elkhound Answers to Heinrich Come home, Heinrich We miss you ****                                        

                                                                                     December 3, 2001

Mulder,

I am so concerned for your safety right now that it is overwhelming. I am trying not to be angry with you - truly I am - but it isn't easy. I know what you've told me, I know we discussed all of this and I know we agreed it was for the best, but the reality is proving far different than the theory. As a scientist, I ought to have expected it and yet I was completely blindsided.

I asked you once years ago if we could just get out of the car and you looked at me like I was crazy and you kept driving. And I stayed. Hundreds of thousands of miles I've traveled with you, Mulder. Endless black ribbons of highways full of nightmares and lost souls and we went after them with badges and guns because we had a job to do.

But I'm asking you now - not as your partner, but as the mother of your child - to get out of the goddamned car. I can't live like this anymore, Mulder, and I will not subject William to it.

I love you but I cannot do this for the rest of my life.

I have nowhere to send this letter.

****

                                                                                                                             December 15, 2001

Mulder,

William said "Da" when he saw your picture today. I have a video.

****

E-Mail From: phishphood66@yahoo.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 20 Dec 2001

Hey Danes -

Our gang's catching an earlier flight from Puerto Vallarta and I wanted to see if you'd be free for dinner. I'm trusting you to pick a not-shitty restaurant because last time I left it up to Bill he said he knew of a "really good Italian place" and took us to the fucking Olive Garden and I swear to God Tara put some of those breadsticks in her purse.

Can't wait to meet my new nephew (you have a kid, Danes!) and see if either of my rugrats is taller than you yet. They're growing like weeds and Larissa's firm is keeping us in Mexico until the resort's finished, so they're all sun-kissed and blonde and I'm mostly a giant freckle.

Mom specifically told me not to ask about William's father, so I'm asking. This Fox guy…what's up with him? Is he good to you? Bill paints him as a kind of Anton LeVay meets Forrest Gump character, but Bill thinks condoms are Satan's party balloons, so what the hell does he know about relationships?

I'm bringing a case of fine champanya to ring in the new year.

Charlie

****

E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: phishphood66@yahoo.com Date: 20 Dec 2001

Charlie,

I can't wait to see you all! It's been far too long since your jet-setting crew has ventured this way. Things with William's father are complicated, but it's due to factors beyond either of our control. I don't mean to be curt, but that's all I can say right now.

Dinner would be great. William still doesn't go to bed until fairly late and can be kept happy with a steady supply of food. He has an excellent pincer grasp.

Did Bill really take you to the Olive Garden? That's classic.

****

                                                                                                                             December 31, 2001

Mulder,

We celebrated Christmas at my mother's and Bill and Charlie and their families flew in. I have lots of pictures to show you of all of the kids together. William is babbling like a champion and I gave him a crayon to draw a picture for you on the back of this card, so turn it over. I remember New Year's Eve two years ago. Zombies, Mulder. And then you kissed me and here I am wishing maybe the world had ended after all because I'm remembering zombies with fondness and what the hell is wrong with my life and my God I miss you.

There was half a bottle of champagne left and now I'm drunk.

Happy New Year

Putting this card with your other unsent mail.

****

                                                                                                                                 January 1, 2002 Dear William,

One day, you'll ask me to speak of a truth - of the miracle of your birth. To explain what is unexplained. And if I falter or fail on this day, know there is an answer, my child, a sacred imperishable truth, but one you may never hope to find alone. Chance meeting your perfect other, your perfect opposite, your protector and endangerer. Chance embarking with this other on the greatest of journeys; a search for truths fugitive and imponderable. If one day this chance may befall you, my son, do not fail or falter to seize it. The truths are out there. And if one day you should behold a miracle, as I have in you, you will learn the truth is not found in science, or on some unseen plane, but by looking into your own heart. And in that moment you will be blessed - and stricken. For the truest truths are what hold us together, or keep us painfully, desperately apart.

Know this, William, for it is the most important thing I can hope to teach you: It is not a weakness to love someone. There may come a time when it will be the only strength you have.

****

E-Mail From: Trust_No1@mail.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 07 Jan 2002

Dearest Dana

I've resisted contacting you for reasons I know you continue to appreciate. But, to be honest, some unexpected dimensions of my new life are eating away at any resolve I have left. I'm lonely, Dana, uncertain of my ability to live like this. I want to come home. To you, and to William.

****

E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 07 Jan 2002

I am physically shaking right now seeing your words - wishing it were you speaking them to me. I want so badly to see you too, but you are still not safe here. You don't sound like yourself, Mulder, and it's frightening me.

Where in the world have you been?

****

E-Mail From: Trust_No1@mail.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 07 Jan 2002

I've seen things I cannot accept and don't know how to change. I feel like the fight has gone out of me and all I want is to come back and put this time behind us.

I will be home soon.

Details to follow in the usual manner.

****

Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, January 8, 2002

It was evening here But upon earth the very noon of night.

ncrl

****

E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 10 Jan 2002

Mulder,

I hold no hope you can respond to this. Or that it reaches you. I only hope that you are alive.

I cannot help believing that you jumped off that train because you knew what I now know - that these "super-soldiers" - if that's what they are - can in fact be destroyed. That the key to their destruction lies in the iron compound at that quarry.

I am scared for you, Mulder. And for William. The forces against us are unrelenting. But so is my determination to see you again. To regain the comfort and safety we shared for so brief a time. Until then, I remain forever yours,

Dana

****

Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, January 14, 2002

The whale, like all things that are mighty, wears a false brow to the common world.

Fe3O4

****

Letter received on January 27, 2002

Dana Scully 107 E. Cordova St. Apt. 35 Washington, DC., 01833

1-16-02

Not much time to write Sorry so short saw your note Agreed on Fe3O3 though not sure how yet Love to you both

****

                                                                                                                            February 2, 2002

Mulder,

I got your last letter and nearly wept with relief to hear from you. I hope this can all end soon. I pray you stay safe until then.

Not sure what the weather is like where you are, but the most beautiful snow has fallen here. William and I have been playing in it at every opportunity and there's a respectable snowman in front of my building now. William likes to eat the snow and blinks when the flakes cling to his eyelashes. He looks more like you every day.

I send regards from Skinner and the Gunmen and my mother lights candles for you.

I wish I had an address to send this to.

****

E-Mail From: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com To: Trust_No1@mail.com Date: 11 Feb 2002

Mulder,

I am hesitant to contact you in this way because I know it is a risk, but I am beginning to fear the worst for William. I don't know what he is but someone does and they are trying to hurt him. I have been working with Reyes and we suspect it all goes back to that artifact I found in Africa, though I can't say I truly understand it. My mother says our son is a miracle and that I must simply accept him as that. But how can I do that, Mulder? After what happened to Emily, how can I not want to know how he came to be whatever he is?

William has been taken from me twice now and I am starting to despair of ever being able to protect him. All the sacrifices we're making right now - what if it comes to nothing? I don't know what to do.

****

E-Mail From: MAILER-DAEMON@n55.bullet.mail.sp1.hotmail.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 11 Feb 2002

Sorry, we were unable to deliver your message to the following address.

< trust_no1@mail.com >

****

Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, February 23, 2002

O lady, you in whom my hope gains strength, you who, for my salvation, have allowed your footsteps to be left in Hell, in all the things that I have seen, I recognize the grace and benefit that I, depending upon your power and goodness, have received. You drew me out from slavery to freedom by all those paths, by all those means that were within your power. Do, in me, preserve your generosity, so that my soul, which you have healed, when it is set loose from my body, be a soul that you will welcome.

****

Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, February 24, 2002

Let faith oust fact; let fancy oust memory; I look deep down and do believe.

****

Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, March 20, 2002

All men live enveloped in whale-lines. All are born with halters round their necks; but it is only when caught in the swift, sudden turn of death, that mortals realize the silent, subtle, ever-present perils of life.

Gunmen dead.

****

E-Mail From: dana_scully@fbi.gov To: john_doggett@fbi.gov Date: 26 Mar 2002

John,

My thoughts are with you and Barbara at this time. Take care.

Dana Scully

****

E-Mail From: john_doggett@fbi.gov To: dana_scully@fbi.gov Date: 26 Mar 2002

Thanks Dana. It's been hard but the closure has come as a relief after all this time. I hope you are coming to terms with your own loss as well. They were the good guys.

John Doggett

****

                                                                                                                          April 20, 2002

Mulder,

I have come to an act of desperation. I have had no way of contacting you - no way to talk this over with you - and so I had to make this choice alone. I have had assurances that our information is to be expunged from every record and I tell myself moment by moment that this is his only chance at a normal life, but what if I have made a mistake that can never be undone?

I vacillate between thinking I have sacrificed my own happiness for his and thinking I have sacrificed him because I am not strong enough to accept what he is. What if that's the case? What if I was just too afraid to see him suffer? Watching Emily die slowly through the glass left me so cold I thought I'd freeze everything I touched, but I didn't know how to grieve for her. They had no right to take those ova from me, no right to create her, and no right to destroy her. She was supposed to be mine and whatever other children were created should have been mine also. But by the time I came to terms with the fact that I was truly her mother, she was already gone. What if the same fate was in store for William? I don't know that I could have stood it.

All I wanted was a child - your child, as the years went on - and I just cannot understand why anyone would create these lives for the express purpose of later destroying them. I don't think we can ever fully know what William means to the Project, but they wanted him dead, Mulder. They wanted to take our son and kill him and would have in time and came close even as I watched over him, and all this before he turned a year old. Jeffrey Spender came to me - terrible things have been done to him - and said that no matter what he did to undo the changes to his little body, William would never have any peace from the men who have been working towards the ends you and I have been fighting.

I believed him, Mulder. I looked into his ruined face and I believe he was telling me the truth and I believe it still. I did the only thing I could think of to protect our son and I can only hope now that you can forgive me.

I don't know what else to do but keep going. It's all I've ever known how to do.

****

E-Mail From: wjscully8@navy.mil To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 22 Apr 2002

Dana, what in the hell have you done? Pick up your goddamned phone.

I just got off the phone with mom a little while ago and she's half-hysterical and I'm not far from it myself. What were you thinking? You put your son up for adoption, Dana? That really struck you as the best possible solution? That's what you have a family for. To help you. And no matter how bad things were you should have come to us. I don't know what has happened to you over the years and I don't think I even know who you are anymore, because my sister would never have done something so insane.

We could have taken him in for you if you couldn't deal with being a single mother. God knows where Fox is and why you put up with the crap he dishes out is beyond me, but he has molded you into a woman I don't recognize and I think there is something severely wrong with both of you.

I have faith that you are not beyond salvation, Dana, but you need to cut your ties with him. Come out to San Diego and stay with us. I have already contacted an attorney about having the adoption reversed and because of the extreme emotional duress you've been under he thinks there's a very good shot that Tara and I can get temporary custody while you get your life back together.

It's not too late for you. We love you and want to help, but you have to let us. I am praying for you.

Your brother,

Bill

****

E-Mail From: phishphood66@yahoo.com To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 22 Apr 2002

Hey Squirt. Just got an earful from Bill. Mom's too freaked out to be coherent.

I don't know what the fuck is up with you the past few years Danes, but the shit seems to have royally hit the fan of your life. Despite what Bill thinks, you were always the smartest one of us and if this is what you thought was right, well, I guess I have to trust that. I'm just so sorry that you're dealing with this.

We're moving to Marrakech in June for a restaurant Larissa's designing and we have this awesome house with plenty of room for decompressing Feds. Take some leave and come stay for a while.

Worried about you, big sister.

Charlie

****

E-Mail From: knitterrific@earthlink.net To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com Date: 24 Apr 2002

Dana, I am so worried about you and I think you might need some professional help. Please return my calls. We need to talk.

I love you.

Mom

****

E-Mail From: monica_reyes@fbi.gov To: dana_scully@fbi.gov Date: 25 Apr 2002

Dana

Please call if you ever need to talk. I am here for you.

Monica

****

E-Mail From: d_scully@fbi.gov To: m_reyes9@fbi.gov Date: 25 Apr 2002

Monica,

Thank you for your concern. I'm going to be fine. I will be back to work on Monday.

****

E-Mail From: j_doggett3@fbi.gov To: d_scully@fbi.gov Date: 25 Apr 2002

I hope this finds you well. Just wanted to see how you were doing.

John Doggett  

****

E-Mail From: d_scully@fbi.gov To: j_doggett3@fbi.gov Date: 25 Apr 2002

John,

Thank you for your concern. I'm going to be fine. I will be back to work on Monday.

****

E-Mail From: reits@clinicalassociates.com To: dana_scully@fbi.gov Date: 9 May 2002

Dr. Scully,

My name is John Reits and I am a parapsychologist. I'd like to meet with you concerning a former patient of mine. Please contact me at this address or give me a call at 714-555-0146.

****

E-Mail From: walter_skinner@fbi.gov To: dana_scully@fbi.gov Date: 19 May 2002

Scully -

Do you ever answer your phone anymore? I need to see you in my office at once. Drop what you are doing and get over here now.

It's about Mulder.

****

The End

****

Notes:

Addendum:

R2NCl + H2O = Bellefleur + Braddock Heights? So claims a woman with node at C5

The Warrior Princess Super-Soldier chick had a node on the back of her neck (around the C5 vertebra) and had informed Scully that chloramine was being introduced into the water supply to transform the populace into super-soldiers. Scully was reminded of the water tampering in Braddock Heights (Wetwired).

****

Fe3O4 + R2NCl = ?

Mulder has discovered evidence of a connection between chloramine and magnetite, but isn't sure what it is.

****

Quantum suicide?

Scully's hoping to get some help on the case from 4D. Quantum suicide - as it pertains to the many-worlds interpretation and the case - encompasses the idea that all moments (however unlikely) with possibilities of occurrence greater than zero are experienced in some dimension.

Mulder's reply is just directing her to some related case files. Which I made up.

****

It was evening here But upon earth the very noon of night.

ncrl

Mulder's train will arrive at the New Carrollton train station at midnight

[atths--twice]

Pinky Promise

Mulder and Scully in the aftermath of the “You should try it sometime” comment. But, Mulder and Scully style... so you know, the roundabout way.

Over the Rainbow played as Scully watched Sheila and Holman walk away, hands clasped and huge smiles on their faces. She could not help but smile as she watched them, obviously quite in love with one another.

She could feel Mulder at her side, his nervous energy nearly palpable. She glanced at him, and she saw his jaw clench as he stared after the couple. She looked at him more intently, trying to catch his eye. He caught her look, and he glanced at her, clearing his throat. He hit his hands together, fists on top of each other.

“Mulder,” she said, trying not to smile. “What did Holman mean?” He fidgeted a bit more, and she bit her cheek to stop her laughter.

“What did he mean about what?” he asked, not looking at her, but at the floor.

She could not stop her smile, so she turned slightly to hide it and give him a second to collect himself. He cleared his throat, and she turned back toward him.

“So, uh .. I don’t think we’ll be flying out tonight. Not only because of the weather, but I’m pretty sure that’s our pilot over there,” Mulder said, pointing toward the makeshift bar, toasting the people around him. Even from where she stood, Scully could see his cheeks were flushed from drinking.

“Huh,” she said, nodding and crossing her arms. She bit her lip as she looked around at the happy revelers, living their normal humdrum lives. She sighed, releasing her lip, feeling a pang of jealousy at the easy carefree lives they must lead.

An apparently popular song among the class began to play and everyone cheered. They all gathered on the dance floor, shoving past her and Mulder. She caught his eye, and he nodded toward the exit, stepping in that direction. One more couple hurried past her, and she followed behind him.

He waited at the gym door and looked back at the crowd once more, a small smile on his face. She caught up and watched him watching them. He caught her eye again and opened the door, letting her go through first.

She hid a smile as she rubbed her hands together before locking her fingers. The woman at the sign in table wished them a good night and Mulder answered in kind. Scully stopped in front of a case of trophies, looking at them as if they were incredibly interesting. Mulder walked up beside her and she could see him watching her in the glass.

“So, I was thinking, as Holman and Sheila left, the advice you gave him must have been pretty good. For it to work so well, I mean. What exactly did you say to him?” she asked innocently, turning to him with wide eyes.

He scoffed and shrugged his shoulders, his hands spread wide. “You know, guy stuff,” he said, tilting his head.

“Guy stuff? Hmmm,” she said, nodding her head and looking back at the trophies.

“Yeah, guy stuff,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets.

“I’m just curious what guy stuff a man who never dates and doesn’t have a significant other could offer up to a man who is basically in the same situation,” she said, turning to him with her arms crossed.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say never,” he said, in a wounded tone.

“Mulder, do you have a secret life I don’t know about? I’ve never heard you ever mention a .. date or someone you’re seeing,” she said, hopefully hiding the hurt she was feeling.

“Well .. it’s been .. I haven’t .. not for a while, but it doesn’t mean I’m not good at it,” he said in a hurt tone, stepping away from her and heading for the outside door.

She raised her eyebrows and followed after him, hurriedly walking through the door and avoiding a rather large puddle. He was a few steps ahead of her, and she had to almost run to catch up to him.

“You’re good at it, Mulder?” she asked, avoiding another puddle. “How would you quantify being good at dating?”

He stopped walking, turned around, and stared at her. “How? Scully, I can be, no, I am very charming,” he said, shaking his head. She finally caught up and stopped, watching his eyes.

“Yes, Mulder,” she said, licking her lips. “I am aware you can be charming, that’s not what I meant. I’ve seen your charm, been on the receiving end of it myself, but is date charm different than your regular run of the mill charm? I’m simply curious.”

He stared at her for what felt like a long time and then he stood up very straight, adjusted his tie, and buttoned his jacket. He smoothed his hair back and then extended his hand to her. She eyeballed it and looked at him with a frown.

“Hello,” he said, a big smile on his face. “I’m sorry if I’m a few minutes late. I had a work thing that I couldn’t get away from until now. It’s Dana, right?” His hand was still extended, waiting for her to take it.

“Oh. Are we doing this?” she asked in a stage whisper, to which he nodded. “My name is Dana, yes, but you can call me Scully,” she said, as she took his hand in hers and shook it, flashing him a dazzling smile.

“Scully? That’s interesting. I’m assuming that’s your last name? I also go by mine, which is Mulder. It’s nice to finally meet you,” he said, squeezing her hand and then letting it go.

“Well, Mulder,” she said, smoothing her hair with her fingers. “I go by my last name for work, what’s your reason? Do you have a horrible first name or something?” she asked with a giggle.

He raised his eyebrows at her as his smile grew. “Well, it’s rather embarrassing,” he said, dropping his head and glancing up at her coyly.

Jesus Christ, she thought, her heart pounding, what were they doing? This was not what they did. Flirting with each other had been an unspoken agreed upon no-go area. Since that day in his hallway, they had not spoken of what happened, but let it slide like most things between them. Keep it hidden, never speak of it, until it or something else caused it to blow up, that was how they operated. Now here they were, having a faux date. And flirting, for fuck’s sake.

Yeah, this was a fantastic idea.

“Go on then, let’s hear it,” she said, smiling at him, the one she did not show him too often, teeth showing and everything.

He stared at her, his eyes on her smile, his own creeping back onto his face. “I’ll only tell you if you promise not to laugh,” he said conspiratorially, looking around and checking for other people, before looking back at her with his eyebrows raised.

She raised hers back and nodded. He leaned in and put his hand on her hip, pulling her to him. Her mouth went dry and her heartbeat ratcheted up when his mouth landed close to her ear.

“It’s Fox,” he whispered, his breath warm, causing her to shiver slightly. He pulled back and his fingers squeezed her hip before he let go. She swallowed hard, and she saw the happiness in his eyes.

Oh, that was how it was going to be. Okay, well two could play that game.

She giggled and looked down, before looking up through her lashes. “Well, the name suits you,” she said with a quick wink, before smoothing her hands down her blazer, over her breasts and down to her stomach. His eyes traveled along with her hands, and she knew she had him.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to change into something nicer for our date, Fox, I mean Mulder, but work kept me later than I had anticipated,” she said, her hands remaining at her stomach. “I normally don’t dress so stuffy for a date. I’d prefer to wear something a bit more .. revealing.” He exhaled loudly and she had to bite back a smile.

“You .. it’s .. I like what you’re wearing,” he said, clearing his throat and shifting his weight.

She put a hand on his arm and laughed. “This old outfit? Thank you, you are sweet. How about we go grab a bite to eat? It’s finally nice out. Would you like to walk to the diner close to here?”

He stepped back and gestured for her to go first and she did, again avoiding the larger puddles of water. They walked the few blocks to the diner not saying much, both undoubtedly thinking they were playing with fire. It was dangerous to be sure, but also deliciously so.

Arriving at the small diner, he held the door for her, smiling as she passed. She felt happy and lighter than she had in recent weeks. Being stuck on background checks, and practically chained to a desk, was enough to make her want to pull her hair out. Yes, they were not technically supposed to be investigating X-Files, but God, it felt good. She may gripe about it, but being in the field, discussing theories, and seeing Mulder’s over-exuberance made her happy. This was their bread and butter, and hell had she missed it.

“Welcome!” a waitress said as she spotted them. “Glad to see it finally stopped raining, but boy we sure needed it. Sit anywhere you like, not too many people out tonight. Must all be over at the high school celebrating the reunion. I don’t think I’ve seen y’all before.”

“Oh! We’re actually on a first date,” Mulder said, grinning at her and then putting his arm around Scully’s shoulders. She almost jabbed him in the ribs, but the waitress looked at them so happily, she forced a smile.

“Well, aren’t you two just the cutest? Come on back, I’ll seat you now,” she said, grabbing two menus and leading them to a table. Scully pushed his arm off and gave him a look. He smiled and shrugged, clearly having a fun time.

“Here we are, you two just give a holler when you’re ready,” the waitress said as she walked away.

“Thank you,” Scully said, sliding into her seat and picking up her menu. She was not too hungry, but maybe a milkshake and fries would be good.

“Get anything you want, money's no object,” he said to her, winking at her above his own menu, before disappearing behind it. She said nothing, but rolled her eyes when he was not watching.

Deciding on their food, they called the waitress over. Scully ordered a chocolate milkshake and fries and Mulder ordered a patty melt. He told the waitress, with yet another wink and nod toward Scully, that he felt sure she would share her milkshake, so he would just get a water. She laughed and wrote it all down before walking away.

“See? Charming,” he said, leaning back and putting his arm on the chair next to him, appearing at ease and happy. Scully shook her head and rolled her eyes.

He perked up, cleared his throat, and smiled at her. “So, tell me about yourself, Scully. What do I need to know about you?” he asked with the grin that made her stomach wobble.

“Oh, you know, typical Navy brat. Grew up in many places, have two brothers and one sister, but she has passed. My mother is still living, but my father passed years ago. I’m a medical doctor and an FBI agent,” she said, smiling wide at him.

“Wow. An FBI agent. Working on any interesting cases?” he said, with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Well, the division I work in, it’s kind of different than the others at the FBI. We investigate .. the odd cases. The ones that other people might not find worth their time,” she said with a shrug.

“Odd cases? Wow, that sounds interesting. What kinds of cases do you mean?” he asked, leaning forward eagerly.

“Oh, well, at the moment, I’m actually stuck on desk duty. My partner and I have been .. downgraded to background checks and pulled from our regular cases,” she said, shaking her head.

“Oof .. that sounds bad. Is it boring? It sounds boring, especially when your other work sounded very interesting,” he said, giving her a sympathetic look. “Do you miss the other work?” He stared at her and she knew that this was the real Mulder asking, not charming date Mulder.

“I do miss it,” she said quietly, staring back at him. He took a deep breath and nodded at her as the waitress brought over their food.

They ate, smiling and stealing glances when the other was not looking. Mulder cut one half of his sandwich in half, and put it on her plate of fries, as he grabbed a handful of them and put them on his plate. She smiled at him, picked up the sandwich, and took a bite. He winked at her and then ate his own food.

By the time she had finished her food, she was too full to finish her milkshake, so she slid it over to him. He grabbed the glass with a grin and drank the rest of it. She shook her head, watching him with a smile.

Mulder paid for the bill, making a show of taking out his wallet and putting his card down, while she grinned. They walked back to the high school to pick up their car. Music still reverberated inside, along with cheers and applause. He nudged her and she smiled before they got in the car.

It was a quiet drive back to the motel. Scully looked out the window, the town still wet from all the recent rain. Hoping the motel would have no more catastrophes, she sighed, knowing they still had to share the room. It was not the first time and it would probably not be the last, but this time felt a bit different.

Before she could think about it too much, they pulled up to the motel and parked. Unbuckling their seat belts, they walked to the door of the hotel room. Deciding to continue with the faux date one last time, she stopped at the door and turned to him, her hand on his chest.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” she said looking at him sweetly. “It was fun and the company was enjoyable.” He put his hand over hers and held her gaze. She smiled and looked down before biting her lip and looking up again.

“I don’t normally do this, especially on a first date, but, would you like to come in? Stay the night?” she said, watching his eyes. She saw them darken and dilate, at the same time she felt his heart rate speed up. She grinned at him before dropping her hand, reaching for her room key, and opening the door. “I mean since all of your shit is already in my room ..”

Turning around, she looked at him and smiled. He swallowed and cleared his throat, before exhaling out a big breath. They both seemed to know that once they crossed the threshold, the pretending was over. He stepped toward her and blocked her in the doorway, making her heart race as he loomed over her.

“I don’t normally do this either, but considering the circumstances,” he said in a low voice. “I guess I’ll need to stay the night, eh?” He pushed back slightly and brushed past her, his body connecting with hers briefly.

The fucker, she thought, closing her eyes and taking a breath. She opened her eyes and walked into the room. He was standing in the room taking off his tie and his coat. Turning toward her, he grinned, and she shook her head.

“You want the bathroom first?” she asked, back to being regular old Scully and Mulder, and he shook his head. “Okay, I’m gonna head in then.” She grabbed her pajamas and headed into the bathroom.

She looked at herself in the mirror, shaking her head, before stripping out of her clothes. She took a quick shower, brushed her teeth, and put on her pajamas. She blew her hair dry until it was just slightly damp and then left the bathroom, all of her clothes in a bundle. She put them in her bag as she watched Mulder sitting on the bed, looking at the same papers from the other day.

“Think about it, Scully, the ability to control the weather because of one’s feelings. Unable to control how he felt, it just exploded out. It’s pretty amazing, and also sad,” he said, looking up at her. “But at least it had a happy ending. I have a feeling this little part of Kansas is going to be a little more colorful after today.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, and she groaned. He got off the bed with a chuckle and walked past her into the bathroom.

Her clothes put away, she walked to the bed, pulled the covers down, and lay on her side with a yawn. Tired after the last couple of days, she closed her eyes, hoping to get to sleep soon without too much thought of Mulder sleeping beside her.

The toilet flushed and then the bathroom door opened, but she kept her eyes closed. She heard him drop his things in his own bag, and then the bed dipped under his weight, his body close to hers under the covers. She opened her eyes and sighed, knowing sleep was going to be hard to find tonight.

Mulder was quiet, and she could hear every breath he took. As she was about to turn over and lay on her back, there was a thump against the wall. Then another three in quick succession, then two more.

“Are you kidding me?” she groaned quietly, as the thumps continued in the same pattern. She sighed and closed her eyes with a whine.

“Scully, listen. Do you hear it?” Mulder asked, excitement in his voice.

“Yes, Mulder, I hear it. That’s the problem. Jesus ..” she groaned again.

“No, no. Listen ..” he said, sitting up and hitting his hand against the bed in time to the thumps against the wall. She kept her eyes closed as he did it but opened them when he began to speak again. “We will .. we will .. rock you. I’m not crazy, that’s their pattern, right? There! It is!”

She sat up and looked at him and started to laugh. He was right, it was that pattern. “It’s .. an interesting .. motion. But,” she said with a giggle. Mulder started clapping to the beat and then began to sing, loudly.

Buddy, you're a boy, make a big noise Playin in the street Gonna be a big man someday You got mud on your face, you big disgrace Kickin’ your can all over the place Singin' We will we will rock you We will we will rock you

The thumping continued. Laughing, Scully joined him, clapping out the beat of the song, and singing loudly.

Buddy, you're a young man, hard man Shouting in the street Gonna take on the world someday You got blood on your face You big disgrace Wavin’ your banner all over the place We will we will rock you Sing it We will we will rock you

Mulder threw the covers back and stood up. Scully continued to clap out the beat as they sang louder, and he danced around the room. She laughed as she watched him, and he grinned at her.

Buddy, you're an old man, poor man Pleading with your eyes, gonna make you some peace someday You got mud on your face Big disgrace Somebody better put you back into your place We will we will rock you Sing it We will we will rock you Everybody We will we will rock you We will we will rock you Alright

Mulder mimed playing the guitar at the end of the song, and Scully doubled over with giggles. A loud pounding was heard on the same wall and they both stared at each other, eyes as big as their grins.

“SHUT UP!” yelled a voice.

“WE’RE JUST ADDING TO THE MOOD!” Mulder yelled back, Scully’s giggles now deep belly laughs.

“FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE!” the voice yelled back.

“NO, FUCK YOU!” Scully yelled back, amid her laughter, and Mulder’s eyebrows shot up. She shrugged and he grinned.

“ARE YOU DONE?!” he yelled.

“ARE YOU?” Mulder yelled, crossing his arms, his smile happier than she could ever remember seeing before.

“FUCK YOU!” he yelled once more.

“NO, FUCK YOU!” they both yelled simultaneously, staring at the wall, waiting for a comeback. When none came, he leaned across the bed for a high five. She slapped his hand, and they both laughed again.

He laid back down and she followed, both on their backs as they continued to laugh quietly. She was finally able to stop, and she wiped her eyes. No more sounds were heard from the other side of the wall and she heard Mulder let out a sigh.

“Actually, I hope we didn’t cause too much trouble. For the woman especially,” he said quietly.

Scully felt arousal course through her, hearing that his thoughts were focused on the woman’s pleasure. She always thought he would be a considerate lover and those thoughts were just confirmed.

Stop it, Dana, she thought. These thoughts are dangerous with him so close to you, after this evening, and this case. Wait until you’re home and then think about what that means. How it would feel to be on the receiving end of that focus. Stop it.

She stayed quiet, hearing his breathing began to even out. God, he could fall asleep so fast sometimes, it made her crazy. There she was, acutely aware of how close he was, how wonderful he smelled, how charming he could be, and apparently how attentive he was to his partner.

Partner, or lover? she thought with an internal scream. Which would you prefer, Dana?

She closed her eyes and was about to turn over and away from him, or maybe go sleep in the car, when the backs of his fingers brushed against hers and his pinky locked with her pinky. He said nothing, but held tight to her.

She noticed his breathing seemed to have stopped and when she squeezed back, it began again. She turned her head so he did not see her smile. At the same time, as though they had rehearsed it, she turned to her right and so did he, their joined pinkies settling on her left hip. She sighed and closed her eyes, his fingers resting on hers and his breathing slowing close behind her.

She lay there, happy in that moment. No threat or sadness had forced them to seek each other’s touch. He reached out because he wanted to touch her. He was not pushing for more, not saying anything, and yet they both knew that this was a big step.

Usually, if they had to share a room, they got a cot or there was a sofa. If they did have to share a bed, they did not touch, at least not consciously. She had woken with her body close to his, or his arm around hers, but she would shift as soon as she realized it.

This was different. She heard and then felt him fall asleep, his body twitching. Taking some deep breaths, she squeezed his pinky lightly. With a smile, as she began to fall asleep, she tapped out a beat against her pillow with her other hand.

We will we will rock you

Yeah, she grinned, one day he would.

After all, he did just make her a pinky promise.

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Slippin’ Mickeys

Only 3 stories by Slippin’ Mickeys ended up at Gossamer, but she’s written many more stories than that. She’s also one of the few authors who posted numerous stories during the show’s original run and then again in the revival years. I’ve recced some of my favorites of her stories here, including Last Chance Falls and Currahee. Big thanks to Slippin’ Mickeys for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

I would say that it does and doesn't surprise me. It surprises me that anyone would want to read something I wrote all those years ago, (only in that I was an actual teenager at the time, and had no chops at all -- I've grown a lot as a writer, and honestly have trouble reading my old stuff because I would have made much different creative decisions now). But the fanfiction that came out of the original run of the show -- from almost day one -- was so rich and varied and a lot of it so well written that I am not the least bit surprised that people want to read it today. I go back and read old favorites often, and am always thrilled to find something that's new-to-me, even if it's 27 years old.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

The first thing I think about when I think about my fandom experience are the friends I made along the way. The X-Files came up with the internet, and there was a whole new way of connecting with people that liked the things that you liked. To this day, I am good friends with many people that I met through the show back in 1997-98. When the revival came about, I dove back in, and made new, more recent friendships that are just as rich. I love the show, but I also love the people I met along the way.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

I first got into the show's online community on some random message board that I think I probably found through a Yahoo search one day in a computer lab on my university's campus. I connected with one woman from Greece named Fay that day, who invited me to join a group of women that chatted about the show after it aired on Monday nights. After the first time I hooked up with them, we talked almost daily via ICQ. Later, in the early aughts, I found the forums on Mighty Big TV/Television Without Pity, where some of the most intelligent discussion was going on. The forums were heavily moderated, and so they were always on topic, and it was just a smart, funny, great place to be.

Eventually, I started working for TWoP as both a writer and moderator (surprise! A lot of people don't know this because TWoP protected the identities of their mods so well, but I was the X-Files board mod after Jessica left!). It was my first paid writing gig and opened doors for me both professionally and personally. Two TWoP recappers were in my wedding!

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

Fanfiction opened my eyes to storytelling as a medium. I'd obviously gone to school and read books, but it opened my eyes to words to could do and be. It was a heady time. There were stories of every stripe. Short, long, canon-compliant, AU, experimental, you name it. We had such gifted writers, too. To this day, I'd almost rather read a piece of well written fanfic than a good book. Fanfic made me want to be a storyteller myself.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

It was the 'ship. God bless the ship. My first episode was Never Again, but I didn't watch again until I was sitting with my college roommate freshman year and she was like "sorry, but I have to watch The X-Files on Sunday nights." That first episode was Redux. The next week was Redux II, and by then it was all over for me. The lengths Mulder and Scully would go to for each other? And the relationship wasn't even sexual? Here were two people who loved each other. Really loved each other. Selflessly. I was SO IN.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

At first, I started reading it. This was back when you could only watch the show in reruns or on those VHS tapes that were sold in three packs that had two eps on each tape (I still have the trading cards that came with them), so after I burned through the VHS options (of which there were few), and set my VCR to tape the weekly reruns on FX, I needed MORE. I found fanfic. And in fanfic, Mulder and Scully actually like, kissed and maybe even had sex! I read everything I could get my hands on. Pretty soon, I wanted to write it myself.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Things are tough these days. It's a hard world to live in, and politics aside, it just feels like everything is falling apart around us. When I first found the show, my life was in a bit of upheaval and I dove into the fandom to distract myself. I'm doing the same thing these days. When the show ended, I left the fandom and lived without it for about 15 years. But when the revival came (and really only after finishing season 11 -- season 10 didn't do much for me), I dove back in. I have quite a few more responsibilities these days, but when I can't watch the news anymore, I log on to XF Twitter (I use my fandom account far more than my IRL account) or Tumblr and get lost for a while. And most nights find me reading or writing fanfic before bed. When the world gets better (I'm cautiously optimistic) and the show has been off the air for years and years, will I leave again? Maybe. But for now, it's once again my happy place.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Nothing hardcore. The X-Files is my ride or die.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I do an occasional episode or movie rewatch. Not too often, but when I'm jonesing and have 45 free minutes, I'll put one on. But I'm writing fanfic again, and I get hit with inspiration at random and odd intervals, so it's safe to say I find myself thinking about Mulder and Scully probably more than is healthy.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

All the time. The old stuff, the new stuff, the good stuff. If I have five minutes and my kid is entertaining himself? I'll happy pull out an old favorite.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I'm reluctantly abstaining from this question, as I'm still active in the fandom and I know that naming favorites will hurt some feelings.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Of The Eight Winds is probably my favorite. I've had a lot of fun writing AU's lately. It's a nice creative outlet, taking our favorite agents and plunking them in a totally different world.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

Do I! I have a whole ass queue. It's frankly irresponsible.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I was writing professionally before I had a baby, and I took years off to be a stay at home mom. Once my kiddo was finally in school full time, I started writing again. With the pandemic, that's for the most part on hold, as I just don't have the bandwidth to dedicate to professional work. Fanfic is easier to play with when you only have five minutes here or there, and it's also great exercise when it comes to plotting and prose, so I'm  sticking with fic for now. When the kiddos are all back in school, maybe I can start getting paid again.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

I get a lot of prompts that I just adore. And honestly, a lot of times, I'll post a stupid picture or ridiculous prompt of my own on Twitter and get dared to write it. If the idea gets stuck in my craw, I generally have to exorcise the demon.

What's the story behind your pen name?

Bad Blood had just aired and I was obsessed with it. I wanted to pay homage to it, so took Mulder's "who slipped him the mickey?" quote and ran with it. Do I regret that? Sometimes.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

My husband knows and is supportive. He's a working writer, so he supports my endeavors, though I know he wishes I were doing something I could monetize. But it makes me happy, and ultimately: happy wife, happy life and all that jazz.

The friends of mine that I've made through the fandom all know and are super supportive.

As for the rest, well... I have a nom de plume on purpose!

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

All my newest work is on AO3. My old stuff can be found on various archives. Like the truth... it's out there.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

I'd leave it with: we're a blessed fandom. The show we stan (even with the real stinkers, there's always something to love) keeps giving, the fellow fans are all some of the smartest, sweetest, and most dedicated people out there... we've been blessed for 25 years, and I don't see that stopping any time soon.

(Posted by Lilydale on August 11, 2020)

[mulderscully]

these past two weeks have made me seriously, seriously reconsider my relationship with cop shows and b99 in particular. i also keep thinking about why it has taken me so long to reconsider.

i understand that in the large scheme of things fictional cops aren't a big issue, but as someone who has spent years engaging with the show and fandom it feels wrong for me not to think/talk about it. i need to express my feelings somewhere and i'll put it under the cut starting here.

b99 is far from my first cop show. tbh if you look at most of my favorite shows they're police shows. castle, lucifer, the x files, twin peaks, and now roswell new mexico. all of them have a cop element and most of my ships are cops/one is a cop. full honesty the police aspect used to be what drew me to tv shows. i loved the mystery and the crime solving, esp if it was mixed with the supernatural. but now i am having a hard time coming to terms with that.

when i was still a full fledged b99 stan one argument i used to make was that the show got the most shit out of all cop shows. as someone who was so familiar with cop shows i couldn't understand why the funny and diverse show got the most discourse. now it's all too clear.

whereas with other shows the police aspect is secondary, b99 is pretty much ONLY about the police. on my other shows the police play a part to tell a larger story that obviously is not in our world. i mean, we don't have the actual devil or aliens running around. no one is trapped in the black lodge. that doesn't make it okay, but it makes the police part less important. it's just... there (and it should not be.)

even if b99 is an alternative universe where good cops exist it's still a world strickingly like our own, no?

b99 gets the most shit because while it TELLS us the squad is different it still a lot of times shows us the opposite but it flies under our radar because it's so funny and diverse.

let's take rosa. she's latina. she's bi. we love her. but she is also canonically and explicitly violent. she genuinely loves police brutality.

let's take jake. he's goofy. he's a feminist. we love him. he also deported a man for charles. he totes how much he loves guns. he actively tries to pin crimes on doug judy even if he can't prove it.

let's look at scully and hitchcock. they literally sexuality harass every woman on the show.

ray holt is one of my favorite characters of all time. i adore him. but he still plays a large part in the "not all cops" conversation. he is the prime example of a "good cop." frankly, i think holt is the only thing that can still save the show as it undoubtedly comes to an end next season. wouldn't it be ideal for him to resign after years and years of trying to fix the nypd to no avail? all it's done is get him demoted over and over again.

this is all just scratching the surface of the issue but as much as fans try and try to deny that the show is police propaganda the more it is. the reason the show keeps being mentioned is because people cannot separate the show from reality as much as they claim to. to fully laugh at b99 you have to put aside the atrocity of the real police force and not think about it. but WE HAVE TO THINK ABOUT IT. because we can laugh at jake we soften ourselves to real cops.

for me personally i can't see myself going back to the show now. it feels wrong. and i am still processing how to feel about all my other shows as well, but b99 is the one i most adamantly defended and i feel guilt for doing so.

it absolutely IS copaganda - and it worked on me. i hope there is further discussion coming from dan goor and the cast in the coming months and i hope that every fictional cop resigns. i hope that even if it will take us a while to abolish the police in real life we can start in fiction sooner than later. fictional characters bend at our will and DO influence real life, be it positive or negative. we don't need fictional cops that spread the "not all cops" narrative that so many people truly believe. the system is rotten, we have to throw it away.

[dreamingofscully]

5x11. “Kill Switch” - X-Files Rewatch

“Are you going to take off the cuffs, or do I have to do this with my tongue?” - Esther “You don’t want to take a vote.” - Mulder

I love the moment in the car with M&S and “Twilight Time” playing. Mulder is so happy when there’s weird shit going on.

Standing closely at the Gunmen's place. Scully's bored, comes up with idea of checking email.

Scully chasing and catching Invisigoth after she tases Mulder. After she's tased she fires a warning shot (use of gun, part 1). Pushes her roughly while cuffing her, don't blame her there.

I just LOVE how overly skeptical Scully is in this episode. It's like she knows a bit about AI, enough to know how far we would have been from true AI at the time, so she's like ... C'MON. Her facial expressions... 😆 Mulder's so amused by her frustration.

I admit I feel a bit possessive/insulted/jealous when the Lone Gunmen are gushing over Esther Nairn rather than Scully. 😒  I understand it, but I still can’t help myself.

Scully fell asleep on the LGM's couch. ❤️

I love how Scully is so angry and short with Mulder on the phone when she's at gunpoint with Esther. "You are correct, sir." is so out of character, Mulder's too distracted to comment I guess. Not sure why Mulder's not more worried when he's disconnected from Scully. I suppose because he's so close to finding something it blinds him to all else.

Again, Gillian is brilliant with the Scully faces in the car scene, trying to be sneaky. Then turning to sympathy when Esther breaks down, despite how angry she is at this whole situation.

Let's talk about the info that comes up on the screen in the trailer when Mulder is taken by the FBI.

Marital Status: Unmarried. If he was married in 1989/1990 (ring in Unusual Suspects/Travelers) perhaps it was brief but annulled? Perhaps he wore the ring to remember? Maybe he wore the ring before he was married to fend off other women? If he discovered the X-Files in 1991 and was with Diana then but also when he got out of the academy, perhaps it was an on-again, off-again relationship? I find it difficult to believe there was a different significant woman in his life, since we never heard about it.

I may address this in fic but perhaps: Diana made Mulder wear the ring to 'claim' him, she was pretty possessive and manipulative, but they didn't actually get married until after they discovered the X-Files. And that was sort of a last ditch effort by Mulder to keep her, since she was getting impatient with his obsessive focus on the X-Files instead of on her. She left anyway shortly after, sent the annulment papers by mail for some bogus reason that she guilted him into agreeing with. I don't think Mulder was ever in a healthy relationship with someone who was unselfish and truly cared about him until Scully (and even that isn't quite healthy in some ways, but at least she cares for him).

I'll talk more about Diana, her motivations, and her relationship with Mulder once she comes onto the show in this season finale.

Mulder's hallucination/dream. These are all produced by the AI from memories that it downloads. Mulder's "Call my doctor. Call Dr, Scully." The sexy nurses don't work so the next step is Scully coming in and kicking ass. I love that this is how Mulder thinks about Scully - complete badass. His savior. Mulder puppy dog eyes. ❤️ I love that he can tell it's not her. The rest of the scenario is believable to him but when the AI pretends to be Scully, Mulder figures it out. ❤️

Yelling for Scully to help him when he figures out it's a simulation.

Scully is such a good shot (use of gun, part 2). Only two shots to disable the tiny speaker hidden by the bright lights. Then again entering the trailer, her reaction, ducking down and shooting the robot blindly (use of gun, part 3). Love the lighting in this scene.

Scully's distress upon seeing Mulder caught by the AI, and her panic when it keeps shocking him. Her reaction to the CD drive opening is to, once again, aim her weapon at it. 😆

Her tender ministrations when he's released. "You're gonna be okay. I'm gonna get you out of here."

Grabbing Mulder and half-carrying him as best she can. She's so handsy: hands on his chest and around his back. ❤️

Kneeling closely at the destroyed trailer site.

[frangipanidownunder]

Objects in the Mirror: fic

This is for my anon who asked: ‘what happens when Scully sees Mulder kissing someone else during their “separation”. This is set pre-season 10.

Willowy. That’s the first word that pops into Scully’s head. The second thought is that at least the woman isn’t a brunette too. Type, much, Mulder? The third thought is that it’s none of her business what Mulder does these days. None. At all. Unless it’s a health issue, he’s an adult. He’s not her…The mental conversation doesn’t supply a word so her brain leaps to the fourth thought, which is how the fuck could he do that? She stops short of adding ‘to her’, so she pulls herself back to the third thought, repeating like a mantra as she strides out, eyes to the sidewalk, desperate to unsee what she saw.

But now there’s a burning itch in her gut, the kind that used to see her pumping more rounds out at the firing range or sending local law enforcement officers running for cover with her machine-gun observations of their sub-par work. Pity she can’t blow her anger/disappointment/betrayal/jealousy off like that anymore; she’s no longer FBI.

Pity she can’t blow off being Scully.

She takes her writhing anger/disappointment/betrayal/jealousy into the café over the road and orders a large latte and a white chocolate and raspberry muffin. She knows she’ll regret it almost immediately and spend a week denying herself any other treats but she needs the sugar hit. Mulder’s still talking to Willow-Blonde, so while Scully’s waiting, she teases ‘Louis’ the barista with a slow smile, holding the seam of her wallet against her cheek, hugging her waist with the other arm and slowly twisting her torso side to side so that her hair falls over her face, then swings back off it again.

It’s a pointless mating dance. It’s reactive. She’s aware of that, but tries not to fall further down the Mulder-profiling-her rabbit hole. The slow-combustion of what she recognises as a misguided sense of dispossession is still taking place in her veins. She hates herself for this weakness but here she is swaying for a bearded barista. Louis blinks her way, finishing the latte art on her order with a flourish. For him, this ritual is part of his training. Keep the customers happy. Especially the older, professional women. They’re the ones who’ll return to the same café time and again, spending their disposable income on cakes and romantic hopes. She’d fuck him though. He’s pretty enough. She wonders what the male equivalent of willowy is. And then tells her mind to shut the fuck up.

Outside, where people are actually living with purpose, instead of imagining petty sex-revenge scenarios, the street is busy. Through the thrum, she spots Mulder again. His outline, his figure, is imprinted indelibly in her mind’s eye. She believes she could find him anywhere, in a ballgame crowd, in the darkened corner of a jazz club behind drifting dry ice, through the misty rain at the end of the yard, arm raised against the twisted apple tree, raging at the brutal sky above him. There was a time when she so desperately wanted him to return home from her imposed exile that she saw him everywhere: in the parking lot, at the line in the bank, across the street pushing someone else’s baby in a stroller.

“Latte for Day-nah,” Louis sings, and as he hands over the cup his fingers brush hers. They’re thin, girlish, two knuckles decorated with calligraphy tattoos. She doesn’t hold his eye, just whips the coffee and cake bag from his hand and heads outside.

The woman has gone but Mulder’s still there, brown paper cup in hand, sunglasses (those ugly sports ones he got from eBay because they were called SpookMeister, what? they’re so me, Scully) across that familiar, broad nose, hair an inch past unkempt and stubble on his chin that hides that fat bottom lip just a little too much. She dips her face to her own cup and watches a moment longer before a car pulls up and he climbs in.

He calls her later. She doesn’t answer the first time, lets the cell buzz and slide over the table top while his name flashes at her. When she does pick up, she feigns breathlessness and gets the desired response.

“Did I catch you at a bad time, Scully?” There’s disappointment laced through his words.

“No, it’s fine. Just doing a workout.” She wheezes out a cough for extra measure.

“Keeping fit for all those kids, huh? You’re a good doctor, Scully. Always going above and beyond for that place. I hope they know how deep your affections lie. Is there some kind of Olympic Games for paediatricians? The Doctors Games?”

It’s hard not to bite back, but they’ve played this game for so long their dysfunction is beat-perfect. “Keeping fit for one’s own personal health and wellbeing is a key component in living a fulfilling life, Mulder.” If only she could convince herself as easily as the words flow.

There’s a shuffle, a few clicks and bumps. He’s changing channels. “I wanted to let you know that I’ve found a new therapist. One that seems to really get me, you know?”

His tone seems genuine and she softens. “That’s good, Mulder.” Despite their issues, she’s only ever wanted him to be well. “I do want to know these things. As your physician…”

“Not that I didn’t like the other one you recommended, but,” he takes in a sharp breath as if to punctuate his point, “we’d run our course.”

She sinks into the chair, letting her head flop back on the rest. One step forward, two steps back. “How often do you see him?”

“You’re letting your unconscious bias show, Scully. Her.”

The small word stings like a needle. She refrains from asking him if she has blonde hair and legs like a foal.

“Fortnightly. We’re still at the heady getting to know you stage.” There’s a small silence where she imagines he’s assessing if he’s done enough damage yet. “She’s young enough to understand Instagram but mature enough to get Prince.”

She laughs gently. The tension diffuses again and she feels a rush of emotion. She can’t help herself. He drags her down then lifts her up with a simple switch of tone. “I saw you today. In town.”

“I do go out in the wild without my Ghillie suit sometimes, Scully. Why didn’t you say hello? I don’t bite.”

Not literally, she thinks. Well, not for a long time. She crosses her legs at the unexpected surge of arousal but the image of him kissing another woman creeps behind her eyes again. “It felt…” If he were here with her, in the same room, he’d lean in to her, tilt his head, quirk his lips, draw the truth from her. But there’s a distance more than miles between them and she can’t say the words. “I was running late.”

“That’s unlike you, Dr Punctual. Is everything okay?”

The way he switches from teasing to caring leaves her off-balance. She waits for the world to right itself.

“Can you schedule me in for an appointment, Scully? There’s something I’d like to talk to you about. Not medical. Are you free on the weekend?”

Tightness in her chest makes her breathing hitch. She adjusts the phone in her grip, gives herself time to respond. She’s faced mutants and monsters, her own mortality and his death, the loss of her children. Surely, his confession shouldn’t be elevated to those ranks. Yet her hands tremble and nausea roils in her stomach. Her brain rocks. It’s stupid, dumb to feel like this. She left him. She turned her back one last time and got herself away before the darkness swallowed her whole. The guilt that followed stripped her bare like a never-ending winter but recently she’s begun to feel the warmth of the sun on her skin again.

“Sure. I’ll come over,” she asserts. That way she can simply leave again. Walk the same walk.

“No, let me take you to dinner,” he says, unexpectedly. “That Thai place you like.”

Her sigh is sharp enough to graze her throat. He can’t be that insensitive as to invite her to eat at the same place they celebrated getting the keys to the house or her news about the job at Our Lady of Sorrows.

“Or the Ethiopian restaurant. You loved their shiro wat.”

“We could order pizza and stay home.” Home. She says it without thinking.

He chuckled. “Like the old days?”

“Something like that,” she says, knowing it will be anything but.

In the end, they agreed on a lunch at the vegetarian café and she orders an omelette she knows she won’t eat. He tucks into his feta and pumpkin quiche with salad and tells her he’s trying to eat cleaner. She doesn’t ask what’s brought on the change.

“What was it you wanted to tell me, Mulder? If it’s just to prove you’re finally paying attention to your diet, you’ve demonstrated it adequately. I believe you.” Her fingers clasp around a napkin and she twists it to a sharp point.

His expression is the same one he used for the victims of the most bizarre kind of crimes. She feels panic welling in her throat and crushes the napkin into a tight ball.

“I wanted to tell you that I met someone. I figured I owed you an explanation. Not an explanation, I mean I haven’t done anything wrong…fuck, this is hard,” he rubs the back of his neck. “Jeez. I feel like a teenager. I…I just didn’t want you to find out from someone else.” He pauses and she nods her head at him, encouraging him to finish, not only because he’s clearly still got stuff to get off her chest, but also because she just wants it over. “Not that anyone else knows because I don’t have friends…so, anyway. I…” The noise he makes is a sad laugh. For her or for him? “That’s, that’s my news.”

His fingers have crept across the table and they’re drumming on the surface, disturbing the small jug containing packets of sugar so that it chinks in time with his beat. He adds a low “sorry.”

If she takes a deep breath, what signal will that send? If she speaks too quickly, would that show a callous disinterest? She tries to smile but her lips refuse to co-operate. She’s never been good at hiding negative emotions, despite her tendency to stoicism. “How did you meet her?”

“Online,” he says. “Where else does someone who spends days at a time in his den meet other humans?”

He’s blushing and it’s charming and she hates it. “Is it serious?” The words are dry on her tongue.

He looks away and she tries to interpret the clench of his jaw. A beat. It softens and his mouth changes from grimace to lop-sided grin. “What does it mean if she left a copy of Why Men Don’t Listen and Women Can’t Read Maps on the coffee table?”

“Well,” she starts, trying to hold his eye despite a rush of conflicting emotions churning through her. “I would jump in the car and take it back to her, but I’m not sure how to get to her place.”

There’s a moment of shocked silence, then his head tips back and he laughs. She sips her tea and enjoys the sound. It always pleases her so profoundly to make him laugh. Not many people could claim to draw out true joy from Fox Mulder.

When he’s collected himself, he rubs his chin. “She took me out last week for coffee, took me out to tell me it was over. At least she did that, I suppose. She…she told me I was too insular. Can you believe that, Scully?” He plays for light. “According to her expert opinion of my psyche, that, I might add, she gleaned from two coffee dates and a meal at some over-priced French place where a dessert the size of a pin cost $50, I was still stuck in the past. With you.” He lowers his eyes and she rolls her lips together to stop herself from adding ‘and your demons and truths’. His shoulders move as he chuckles. “She didn’t really leave me that book, Scully. She didn’t come to the house.”

She’s stupidly relieved to hear that.

“It seemed wrong, somehow,” he says. “And it got me thinking, after her Dear John speech, that maybe this is what we’re…I’m destined for. A kind of relationship limbo. Prevented from going forward because I’m still snagged on a Scully branch. Do you think she’s right? If you…if you met someone, Scully, do you think you could give your whole self to that person?” He blinks slowly. “Or will there always be a small part of you left here?” He pats his chest with the side of his fist.

Her own heart speeds up. She’s had a few dates, a few flings. She hadn’t told him because he wasn’t in the headspace to process her attempts at moving on. And she can see now they were just ‘attempts’. There was an emptiness to the experience. And there’s a grain of truth to his question. It’s exposed just how indelibly tied they are because of their past.

She doesn’t answer him and he plays with the lollo rosso on his plate. “I like the weight of you in here.” He looks down to his heart. “It keeps me balanced.” A waiter retrieves their plates and Mulder watches her for the entire time he’s cleaning the table.

Her chest constricts, burns with such intensity that she’s certain her face is aflame. His fingers meet hers, mid-table, and she lets him squeeze them, such tenderness, such affection, so far removed from the angry, impotent man she’d left.

“Have we fucked each other up entirely, Scully?”

“Is that how she put it, your mystery woman?”

He grins. “I told her I liked being fucked up. It’s the only life I’ve ever known. That’s when she threw in the towel.”

“I don’t blame her,” she says, rubbing his knuckles. “Imagine meeting Spooky Mulder all grown up. At least back in the day your paranoia was justified. Government conspiracies and all.”

“If Dr Dana Scully had met me now, she wouldn’t have lasted one date with Ole Spook, would she?”

She lowers her head as she giggles. “You showed me many things, Mulder. Opened my eyes to wonders and closed them to the black and white life I’d known. I’m a better person because of you. I wouldn’t change a day.”

“You told me that once before.”

“And I still mean it.”

Outside, the day is cooling, sun leaching away behind thickening cloud. They walk in amiable silence down the street. There’s a bookshop she loves and he nods as she lingers at the door. Inside, the comforting smell of words on pages wafts over her and she browses the dark-shadowed shelves.

Mulder emerges with an armful of books from Squatchin’ for Novices to Meals for One. She swallows at the sight of that one. She’s picked up a mystery thriller, and couple of romances that he side-eyes. She bats him over the arm with one. Then she spies the main prize. She picks out two copies. A his and her pair. The teller scans them through and she hands one to Mulder.

He’s still laughing as they walk to their cars. He puts the other books on the passenger seat of his car and clasps his copy of The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck to his chest.

“Shit is fucked,” she says, reading from the blurb.

“And we just have to live with it.” He drops a kiss on her head and smiles a full-wattage beam. “You’re still a good date, Scully.”

“You too,” she says. “And I’m glad you told me about…your…”

“Tiffany. That was her name.”

She can’t help the sharp burst of laughter that comes out. “I’m sorry,” she says. “That…was unexpected.”

He snugs a hand in his jeans pocket. “I know. It should have been a warning.”

“Well, unfortunate name aside, it’s good that you’re getting out there.”

“Out there. Where the truth is? I don’t think I’ll be doing it again in a hurry.”

She pulls a sympathetic face, reaches out to touch his arm. “I don’t want to be your snag, Mulder. I thought I was setting you free.”

“We’ll never be free of each other, Scully. And I don’t want to be free in that sense, not if it means never having days like this. I…miss you.” He bounces his toe off the ground and the lump in her throat wedges itself firm.

“I’d better be going,” she whispers. Turns to leave.

“Maybe we can make this a weekly thing,” he says after her. “Just two fuck-ups having lunch, you know?”

She stops, turns back around, smiling through her tears. “Maybe.” And she watches him in the rear-view mirror. Objects in the mirror may appear closer than they are, she thinks as she drives away, and sometimes, they actually are.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

CSI: Rogers and Barnes- The Serious Cereal Serial Killer

Ch 6- Shots In The Dark Co-Written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Episode Summary: Katie and Bucky head to the 99 to dig out some old case files that might help them on the case. Steve comes back to work, but he shouldn’t be there really, coz like he was banged up pretty bad. They go to a bar and there’s a fancy fireman called Johnny knocking around with the Nine-Nine crew. Steeby doesn’t like him…and it all kinda goes a bit wrong.

Episode Warnings: Bad Language words.

Episode Pairings:  Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark (Yeah, it’s nice and friendly now…)

Song for Episode:  New Rules by Dua Lipa

A/N: This entire series contains dark humour (CSI + Brooklyn 99=CSI Steeb) Avengers and Stark Spangled Banner Easter Eggs and jokes. You don’t need to have read the SSB series to understand or enjoy this, but we’ve used the Universe to spin this off from so somethings might puzzle a few of you if you ain’t, but feel free to ask. Also, our knowledge of American Policing and Brooklyn is limited, so bear with us if we slip up, but at the end of the day this is a fiction so we’ll claim any mistakes as creative license!!

Enter the NINE-NINE! We’ve used a lot of quotes from the series, that we know are not in their original settings but just indulge us because dammnit, it made us laugh!!

As always we live for re-blogs and comments  

CSI Rogers and Barnes Master List 

Main Masterlist 

“And the wanderer returns!” Jake Peralta greeted Katie warmly as he stepped out of the elevator to greet her at the front desk of the 99 Precinct Building. “Good to see you Jake!” She beamed, giving him a hug before she stepped back “This is Sergeant James Barnes, or Bucky.” “Pleased to meet you.” Bucky said, grasping his hand. “So how’s DC treating you?” Jake asked as they stepped into the elevator. “Not bad.” Katie shrugged “The work is good but, well it’s not home ya know?” Bucky shot her a side glance, that was the first time he had heard her admit that she missed Brooklyn, and he had a feeling that her reconciliation with Steve had something to do with it. “Well you know what they say?” Peralta smiled “You can take the girl outta Brooklyn” “And then bring her back” Bucky quipped, earning him a dig in his ribs. The elevator door opened and they stepped out into the open plan office and Bucky winced at the cacophony of noise that hit his ears. Katie grinned and hugged a smaller, short haired man before she moved on to an Auburn haired woman, and then smiled and fist bumped a taller, darker haired lady. “Hey Diaz.”

“Stark.” The woman’s face flickered into a grin as she pulled Katie into a hug “good to see you”

“Wait a minute. Are we hugging?” Katie pulled back “Have we ever done this before?”

“No,” Diaz replied “And if you tell anyone, I’ll slit your throat.”

Katie laughed. “Does Terry get a hug?” Bucky looked up to see an absolute unit of a man strolling towards them. The man was dressed in a normal shirt, with a tie and suspenders but Bucky couldn’t help but stare because, well, he was fucking huge. He was even bigger than Steve and that was saying something. “Oh Terry gets a hug!” Katie laughed, stepping forward again. “Good, coz Terry missed Katie…” “Does he always refer to himself in the 3rd person? Bucky turned to the shorter man. “Oh yes.” He nodded “I’m Boyle by the way” “Bucky.” He said, shaking his hand.

“So…” Jake turned to them “All the boxes and case notes are ready in the archive rooms down stairs. I would have brought them to you but my cars in the shop so I rode in on Rosa’s motorcycle. I guess you could say I’m a gear head now.” he nodded, clearly pleased with himself. “He held on to me so tight it was like a two-mile Heimlich.” Diaz shot back, where she was lounging in her chair, phone sandwiched between her ear and her shoulder “No I won’t hold…”

“Those things have no walls on them!” Jake hissed as he walked to his desk “Let me just grab my breakfast and we’ll head down…” “Are those gummy bears wrapped in a fruit roll-up?” Bucky looked at him in horror as he picked up the film wrapped item.

“Breakfast burrito, but yeah” Peralta shrugged as they headed to the elevator.

“I pity your dentist.” Bucky shook his head.

“Joke’s on you. I don’t have a dentist.” Jake shot back as they all headed towards the elevator.

“Not so fast…” a deep voice said, and Bucky spun round to see the 99’s commanding officer, Captain Holt striding across the floor. “I believe Sergeant Stark has one more person she needs to say hi to.”

Katie narrowed her eyes playfully “Why? Is Cheddar here?”

“Who’s Cheddar?” Bucky asked.

“Holt’s corgi.” Peralta supplied

Holt’s face twitched, into what Bucky supposed you could call a smile, maybe, as the man stuck his arm out and formally shook Katie’s hand.

“Good to see you again. Congratulations on the promotion.” Holt said “I knew you’d get your break eventually.” “Thank you sir.” she smiled.

He nodded at her and then turned to look out over the office. “Ok 99, I just had an email. Our monthly crime statistics are due. I want paperwork on all your closed cases by tomorrow. Scully, you can just write ‘I didn’t close any’ on a piece of paper.”

Bucky looked around to see two, rather large (and by large he meant fat) men sat at desks, both eating some form of wrap. One of them, the one with the strange hair cut that made him look like he had a lego doll head looked up.

“What? I’m confused…” he said slowly.

“Huh.” Holt raised an eyebrow “From your expression, I would have guessed constipated. Or chilly.”

Bucky heard Katie snigger besides him as a nasaly voice from the Auburn haired woman cut across the office.

“Hey, Craptain, you ready to get curb stomped?” “What?” Jeffords’ eyes shot up.

“At chess.” Gina looked at him.

“We have a weekly match. I’m teaching Gina to play. And she, in turn, is teaching me to trash talk.” Holt said, waving his hand in explanation before he turned to Gina “The hospital called. Your test results came back positive. You’re a stage five dumbass.”

Katie looked at Peralta before the pair of them burst out laughing as Gina stood there, nodding, like a proud sensei.

“Oh! You have come so far.”

Bucky simply stood there, mouth hanging open. What the fuck had Stark dragged him into. He dug her in the ribs with his elbow and as she turned to look at him, he shook his head “This…this is…” “The Nine-Nine.” Katie said, fondly “And you spent 5 years here?” Bucky looked at her in disbelief.

“Actually it was just over 6.” Katie said “I moved to the 101 a year after dad died when the opportunity came up to train as a Profiler. I do miss them all though, and their little quirks…which reminds me…Hey” She turned to Jeffords who was now sat at his desk. “Still writing Fan Fiction Terry?” “Fan Fiction…” Bucky dead panned.

“Well, shows and films leave Terry wanting more.” Sergeant Jeffords shrugged “I’m just filling in the gaps.”

Just when he didn’t think shit could get any weirder… Bucky blinked.

“So what grabbed your imagination this time?” Katie continued

“He’s actually writing an original piece.” Boyle smiled.

Terry grinned “Yeah, about a group of super heroes, who save New York from aliens…”

“Let me guess…” Bucky grumbled and they turned to face him “They all dress in lycra and have capes?”

“Not all of them.” Terry looked at him. “Only one has a cape and only one dresses in Lycra, the others are in leather apart from one who is a kind of beast when he gets angry and the other has a flying, metal suit and…”

“Why can’t anyone make super heroes normal people who wear normal clothes?” Bucky shook his head.

“They don’t sit on their couches in their superhero outfits.” Terry looked at him, frowning “They’re normal on their downtime…”

“What is it with you and superhero costumes?” Katie looked at him.

Bucky shrugged “It’s just all, oh I dunno, ostentatious…” “Says the man who owns a rhinestone encrusted denim jacket, yeah, I heard…Steve told me about it ages ago.”

Bucky smirked and shrugged “It’s from the 90s, it was the fashion when we were a kid.” “Hmmm.” Katie pondered, before she looked back at Terry “You’ll have to email me a copy when it’s done.” “Will do, Terry always likes feedback.” “And Katie likes to read, speaking of which…” she patted Buck’s chest with the back of her hand “We need to get digging into those files, Buck.”

He agreed and Katie turned to Peralta. “Lead the way…not that I don’t know where it is but…”

She was cut off by a loud squeal and she spun to see a dark haired uniformed woman, hair pulled back into a ponytail. Bucky just caught the name “Santiago” on her tag before Katie wrapped her in a hug.

“Oh my God!” Santiago smiled, “I knew you were back in town but…”

“I know I should have called…and I’m sorry Amy but, we got a lot to get through so I need to get to it. But, Romanoff suggested a night out. You too Diaz?”

“Drinks sound good” Diaz nodded.

“The Compound? This weekend?” Katie asked “Sure I can wrangle us the VIP treatment seeing as the owner is practically my sister in law.” ““I am sooo up for that!” Santiago grinned “There’s nothing better after a long shift than going to The Compound It’s like Cheers, where everybody knows your name”

Diaz looked at her “A place where everybody knows your name is hell. You’re describing hell.”

******

The doors of the elevator opened and Katie emerged from it followed by Bucky who was carrying a box with the files they had brought from the 99. Thankfully, out of the three boxes Peralta had provided on Rumlow’s case, they had been able to reduce the files with meaningful information to only one.

“Is Stevie’s office open, Wanda? Need to pop these files somewhere safe.” Katie said once they were close enough to the reception desk counter.

Bucky saw Wanda’s eyebrows squeeze together in a wrinkle and her mouth twist with annoyance at Katie’s use of Steve’s pet name. He could tell she was pissed. And to be honest, he was also surprised at the new situation. How Stark had gone from hating the Captain’s guts and going haywire at him calling her sweetheart, to easily referring to him as Stevie, and in public none the less, was something that he couldn’t quite grasp. But then again the dynamic between those two was unique, which was the polite way of putting it.

“Yeah, it’s open. He’s in there.” she answered trying to conceal her animosity.

“What?” Katie shrieked and Wanda shrugged. She turned to Bucky “Can you believe that?”

Bucky just shook his head and muttered “Punk” as both headed for the Captain’s office. They were about to barge in when the door suddenly opened. Steve, who was carrying a cardboard cup holder with two coffee cups, had to raise his right hand above his head to avoid scalding both detectives with the hot liquid.

“Whoooa, easy there!” his voice faltered at the end as his ribs complained at the sudden movement.

“What the fuck, Steve!” Katie shouted “You should be resting at home, you’re still healing.”

“She’s right, punk.” Bucky added as he made his way past Steve to leave the box on the desk. “What? You don’t think we can handle this without you?”

“That’s … that’s not…” he said turning and glaring at Bucky but stopped when he saw an amused expression on Bucky’s face “Enjoying yourself?” he asked and Bucky nodded and laughed.

Steve sighed and turned to Katie who was still at the door arm crossed and he smiled softly, his bruised face lighting up as he spoke.

“I’m ok, sweetheart. Just have to remember not to move like I’m a cheerleader.”

“Now, that’s an image I don’t want imprinted in my brain.” Bucky mused leaning on Steve desk as he prepared for the storm to unravel.

“What’s in the box?” Steve asked.

“Files from the 99.” Bucky said as he watched Katie who was still observing Steve with narrowed eyes.

“Well don’t leave them there, take them into the incident room.” Steve said, “It’s safe enough, we can lock it and-“

At that point Bucky saw Katie’s eyes flicker like a light bulb, the way they did when her brain was trying to spot the missing link and she interrupted him.

“Wait! How did you get here? You can’t have possibly driven yourself.” she said tilting her head, staring at him like he was the suspect of a petty theft. “Oh, you didn’t ride the bike, did you? Steven, tell me you didn’t ride that old, dusty piece of junk!” she carried on ranting.

“What bike?” Bucky inquired now curious while taking a packet of gummy bears Peralta had given him out of his jacket pocket.

“An old bike my father had. Tony doesn’t like bikes so he passed it on to Steve.” Katie explained “It’s a rattletrap…”

“It’s not a rattletrap.” Steve protested “And it’s unique, the handlebars are made from Vibranium. You should show more respect for Howard’s legacy.” he said pointing at her like she was a little brat.

“Whatever.” she said rolling her eyes. “Are you going to tell me how you got here?”

“Sam drove me. He called to tell me he had news on Ross report, he said he was in the area so I made him pick me up.”

Bucky saw Katie’s stance relax a bit with Steve’s explanation but suddenly her eyes darted to him, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit scared.

“Who did you say you had breakfast with before we went to the 99?” she asked Bucky with a sly glance.

“I didn’t say.” Bucky said, putting a bunch of gummy bears in his mouth before he diverted the conversation to Steve again.

“You shouldn’t be here, Steve. You’re convalescing”

Steve sighed, lowered his head for some seconds, a demeanour Bucky could read like the back of his hand. Steve felt tired and lost, he needed to go back to his natural element.

"Look” he said raising his head again, the hand that wasn’t holding the drinks dropped to his hip and he looked at Bucky “I’m tired of being at home doing nothing but watching TV and thinking. I can’t even go for my morning run or go to the gym to blow some steam against a punching bag. I know I should be more relaxed now than ever, but I’m not. Doing nothing is driving me crazy. Surely being in the station can’t be that physically demanding?”

Bucky felt a pang of guilt at his friend’s word. Steve was right. Bucky knew that Steve, for as long as he could remember, had always wanted to do what was right. Even if sometimes that meant a bunch of dumbass decisions. The Captain wasn’t one for sitting back and doing nothing. He even had bags under his eyes and Katie must have noticed too since she asked him

“Trouble sleeping?”

Steve turned to look at her with a huge smile on his face and a sparkle of something in his eyes, Bucky could tell from the way he was standing.

“You could say that.” he replied.

Katie returned the smile and they both simply stood looking at one another for what seemed like way more time than should be acceptable. Bucky suddenly felt like he was a fly on the wall, so trying not to step on the moment, he grabbed the box of files and made to leave the office.

“I will be in my desk if you…” he said when he walked past Katie but she wasn’t noticing him, she was still locked in eye contact with Steve.

“Whatever.” he mumbled and headed for his desk “I feel like I’m invisible. I’m turning into Steve when he was a skinny punk.”

“Now, you’re talking to yourself Barnes.” Natasha said walking from the kitchen followed by Sam, Clint and Wanda.

“Who are you, Regina George and her clique?” Bucky bit back while he dropped the box onto his desk and took off his jacket.

Steve chose that point to walk out into the office

“Sam, Barnes and Stark are back.” the Captain spoke striding towards Bucky’s desk, signalling the man over from where he was perched on the edge of Natasha’s desk. Katie headed to her own, and dropped her purse down, slinging her jacket over her chair. “Can you fill us on the new details about Ross’ PM report?”

“Can I go fetch a coffee first?” Katie pleaded as Sam stood up. “It’ll be real quick, promise.”

“Oh, shit, here” Steve said quietly handing her one of the take out coffee cups he had brought from his office and completely forgotten about “I got you your regular on the way. Your round tomorrow.”

In all honesty Steve had been a little nervous buying that coffee. It had been something they had always done, buying each other a drink on the way in, alternating on days. But since she had returned and they hadn’t been on good terms it had clearly fallen by the wayside. Since the air had cleared yesterday he’d decided to chance it and see how it was received but he needn’t have worried. Katie positively beamed at him before she blurted out “God, I love you.”

Steve felt his neck growing warm as all eyes turned to them and he saw Katie’s own cheeks flush and she sipped from the cup trying to hide her embarrassment “Suri’s Vanilla Lattes are the best.” she said in an over the top, dramatic voice “Oh, how I have missed them!”

"You’re welcome, I think.” Steve said, now full on blushing as he rubbing the back of his neck.

Bucky tried to divert the attention from the pair of dorks before Wanda choked on her own bile and Natasha or Clint made a snarky comment.

“I’m waiting. What, you didn’t bring one for me?” he asked and from the corner of his eye he saw Natasha shaking her head at him disapprovingly. He glanced at Steve who was now flushing even more and that was when he realized he had made it worse by drawing even more attention to the fact that Steve had, in effect, displayed favouritism, whether he meant to or not.

“You want in Barnes you can buy the next round then.” Katie quipped and he glanced at her as she perched on the edge of her desk.

“Fair enough…” he shrugged, and then his attention was taken by Sam who was looking at something on his desk with curiosity.

“You like cats?” Sam asked taking Dot and examining her.

“It’s not a cat. It’s a goat and it’s called Dot.” Bucky said with annoyance. How the fuck could anyone mistake a goat for a cat?

Steve groaned and urged Sam to start with the report details so they could move on with the investigation.

“What? Dude has a cat on his desk and you don’t want to know why?” Sam asked Steve.  "Looks like a cat.“ he shrugged now looking at Bucky.

"I think it looks like a llama.” Katie quipped and Clint’s laugh could be heard all through the floor.

Steve groaned again rubbing his forehead but before he could make one of his famous pep talks, Sam interrupted him.

“All right, before Steve McQueen here’s head blows up…the hair we got on Ross’ trousers?” he offered, opening the folder he was carrying and examining the report.

“Yeah?” Steve asked.

“Funny enough, its goat.” the doctor explained.

Everyone went silent, looking at each other, before Katie let out a laugh and turned to Bucky.

“Maybe we should ask Dot if she knew Ross.”

“Fuck off Stark.” Bucky rolled his eyes, grinning.

“Oooh, maybe she did it…” Katie continued “I mean, do you know her whereabouts that night?”

“You’re hilarious.” Bucky deadpanned, shaking his head.

“Ok. Anything else?” Steve asked Sam, cutting across the pair of them.

“Nope. That’s all I’ve got so far. Got you a copy of the updated report.” he said handing the folder to Steve.

“Thanks, Sam” he said and the Doctor just nodded and patted Dot’s head with his index finger before heading away.

“Romanoff, Barton, start working on a link between Ross and …” Steve paused for a moment trying to sound as professional as possible “…a goat.“

Katie choked slightly and then coughed as Bucky looked at her, before they both started to snigger slightly. Steve rolled his eyes at the pair of them. They were like school kids.

"Right away, Cap.” Natasha nodded.

“It would be my genuine pleasure, Cap.” Clint added, nodding to his computer “Searching for goat farms as we speak. God I’d like to have a farm someday.”

“Buck, you and Katie start with those files. I’ve got a tele-conference with Fury to give him an update so I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

Bucky gave him a salute as he turned and started making his way towards his office.

“Stevie, I got your…” Wanda called out for him before he went away but she was cut off by Steve’s fiery look.

“It’s Steve, Wanda.” he said sternly.

“Yes. Sorry Steve” she said gulping “I just wanted to give you your mail.”

“Thanks.” Steve said, slightly less curtly but still with a slight edge to his voice as he took the items from her.

Bucky saw her walk as fast as she could towards the restroom and he shared a quick significant glance with Steve who just shook his head and turned towards his office. He then looked at Katie who simply stood and picked up the box from his desk as she headed towards the Incident Room. Finally he looked in Natasha’s direction who nodded at him as if confirming they were on the same page-Rogers and Stark were back on full speaking and, so it seemed, full flirting terms.

***** “So as Jake and I explained before the victim was a woman called Sara Klein.” Katie spoke as Bucky spread the papers across the large table. “She was walking home from a bar when she was dragged into an alley and raped.”

“And you think the perp was…this Rumlow guy?” Bucky asked, looking down at a mug shot of a man with dark hair and dark eyes. “Who was a Uniform in the 99?”

“Yeah.” Katie said

“So what made you suspect him?”

“When we took Klein to the Rape Centre for her forensic examination he was there, don’t ask me what for. When she came back from the examination room she heard him talking and literally stated shaking and became hysterical.” Katie paused for a moment “We got her back to the station, calmed her down and that was when she said she recognised his voice…”

At that point Steve walked into the room and they both looked at him, and he gestured for them to continue.

“Peralta and I went to speak to Captain Holt, you know, given the sensitivity of it. He told us to bring Rumlow in for questioning and that he would speak to Fury. Obviously he denied it, said she must have been mistaken bla bla bla but Peralta and I didn’t believe a word of it, I know he did it.”

She trailed off and Bucky looked at Steve who gently laid a hand on her shoulder “He knows.” he looked at her as her head snapped up and her eyes locked onto his “I told him what Rumlow did to you, I’m sorry but I was trying to explain the Sitwell situation and…” For a moment Steve feared she was going to blow up at him but she didn’t. Instead she sighed and shrugged “It’s not exactly a secret anyway…” she wiped at her eyes and Steve gently rubbed her back before she jumped off the desk and walked to the wall, looking at the various bits of notes and evidence.

“Long and short of it, Bucky, is that we had no forensics of any sort to link Rumlow to the rape, no DNA left behind, nothing that wasn’t circumstantial…and then up pops Sitwell to provide an alibi that we didn’t believe for a second. But before we had chance to discredit it, Sara turned up and said she wanted to withdraw her allegation. Said that she’d confided in someone, we never did find out who, and they’d given her all these statistics on how many rape cases actually ended in a conviction and that was it, she didn’t want to put herself through it. Nothing we said or did could convince her otherwise.”

“So Rumlow basically carried on like nothing had happened…” Bucky said, leaning back in his chair. “Well his reputation was in tatters, mud sticks…” Katie said, turning to look at him “He pretty much became a social pariah around the force. And then when he assaulted me he was kicked out, well, told to resign…”

Bucky stayed silent as Steve gently reached over to look at the paper work on the desk.

“So has anything turned up in any of this that can link Ross to Sitwell?” he asked, glancing up at them both.

“Not so far.” Bucky shook his head “But we haven’t even scratched the surface.”

“Well until we have anything concrete to go on it’s as good a train of thought as any.” Steve said. “Maybe it’s worth digging into Sitwell’s background a little more. Schools, Universities, dodgy handshake clubs, that kind of stuff, see if we can link him to Ross that way.”

“Say we do make a link…” Bucky said, leaning back in his chair, eyeing Katie “Gut feeling Stark, is this connected to the Rumlow case?”

“I dunno.” she shrugged “But one thing’s for sure, something stinks about all of this. And I don’t believe in co-incidences.”

“Me neither doll face.” Bucky mumbled, dodging the whiteboard pen she sent flying his way.

******

Three hours and a couple of sandwiches later Bucky and Katie had decided to call it a day. They had gone through Rumlow’s case again and needed a home cooked dinner and a good night’s sleep before they started digging on Sitwell’s school records the following day.

“Ok. My brain is fried. I’m heading home and praying for Tony not being there yet. Wish me luck.”

Bucky smiled at Katie over the screen of his computer. He saw her stand up from her chair and cross her fingers in the air before walking to the restroom. He was saving the documents on his computer and turning it off when he heard Steve.

“Anything significant?”

“Nope.” Bucky said leaning back on his chair and stretching his arms above his head. “Enough for today. And you too, Steve. Finish that coffee you’re drinking and I’ll drive us home.”

Steve nodded and turned around when he heard Katie’s voice from behind him.

“You shouldn’t even be here. Go home and rest, Stevie.” she said casually.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at Steve who rolled his eyes, but he turned to Katie when she let out a little squeal and saw her waving her phone in the air.

“Nat, Wanda come here! Got a message from Diaz!” she said excitedly “GIRL’S NIGHT OUT FRIDAY. How does that sound? She says Amy and Gina are coming too.”

“I’m in” Natasha said grinning at Bucky and turning to Wanda, who had also gathered around Katie’s desk, for confirmation.

“I don’t think I can… I’m sorry.” Wanda hesitated before adding “My cat is sick.”

“Your cat?” Nat asked her with sly eyes.

“Whatever…” Katie rolled her eyes and leant over her desk to switch off her computer “I’m only asking because I’m not petty enough to leave one person out” she muttered only for Bucky to hear.

“Leave it.” Bucky whispered back as he saw Wanda frown and open her mouth to retort to Katie’s initial eye roll and he gave Steve a warning look.

“Wanda.” Steve stepped in “Come to my office. There are some reports I want you to file before you go.” and he started walking away as she followed obediently.

“Ok. I’ll text Diaz saying we’re in Nat. Dinner and The Compound?” Katie asked while grabbing her jacket and purse.

“Perfect. And I’ll convince the little witch.” Nat nodded.

Katie just pursed her lips and nodded before waving everyone goodbye and walking away.

“Ok. All hands on deck. Clint come here!” Nat said her eyes shining with the excitement of plotting. “Barnes. Engage phase 2. We’re going out and we’ll be at the Compound after dinner, I’ll confirm our ETA as we go. You two bring Rogers and I’ll make sure Stark is a little bit intoxicated by then.” she said winking at Bucky.

“I’ll call Peralta, if Santiago is gonna be there, he’ll be up for it. See who else he can drag in.” Clint offered.

“Ok Buck, I’m ready. We can go now” Steve said and looked at them sensing he had stepped into something “Am I interrupting something here?”

“Nah. Nat was telling us the girls’ plans for Friday.” Bucky brushed him off.

“Oh, so you’re finally going out?” Steve smirked at Nat who rolled her eyes at his dig that it had taken her so long to organise something with Katie “But, you do know you and Stark are on call this weekend as Barton and Barnes have done the last two?”

“That we did.” Clint quipped

“It’s ok boss. We’ll behave.” Nat drawled as she spotted Wanda had returned to the reception desk. “Gotta go do something. See ya fellas.”

Steve sighed and shook his head at Bucky “Lets go, Buck. Bye Barton.”

******

“You’re a pain in the ass. No, you’re worse than a pain in the ass, you know that?” Bucky said while closing the car door after getting into the left back seat of Sam’s grey Mercedes Class C.

“What’s the deal?” Sam asked looking at Steve who was now fastening the seat belt of the passenger seat. Perks of being the Captain and still on recovery.

“He’s been grumpy all day. He didn’t want to come.” Bucky explained.

“I told you, I’m on duty this weekend.” Steve said turning his head to look at Bucky as Sam pulled away from the curb in front of Steve’s block.

And he was being truthful, he was the senior officer on call. It had been Holt’s turn last week, but as Bucky pointed out the chances of getting called in were low. Katie was the on duty Sergeant supported by Natasha and God forbid either of them would admit they couldn’t handle any possible situation and had to call their superior in.

“You have more chances of getting laid tonight than being called in tomorrow.” Clint deadpanned from the right back seat.

Steve groaned which made Sam chuckle and give a significant look to the men at the back through the rear-view mirror.

“Where are we going?” Steve asked trying to change the subject.

“We’re picking up Thor” Sam explained.

“And then?” Bucky asked “I’m hungry.”

“Yeah, what’s new? You’re always hungry.” Steve snorted.

“Tell me about it.” Clint scoffed. “I spent all day with him yesterday visiting goat farms upstate. Dude ate a donut dorito hot dog pizza all rolled up like a burrito! Can you believe it?” Clint asked leaning forward to speak to Steve and Sam.

“Hey, I was just optimizing my time.” Bucky shrugged and the three men shook their heads.

“We could stop at Grimaldi’s to have pizza and beers, feed the bastard. Then we’ll drop into the Compound.” Sam suggested.

Both Bucky and Sam nodded in agreement with the plan. Steve groaned again. He was worried about the case being in a deadlock. After two days of digging, they had nothing solid on Sitwell’s connection to Ross yet. Last thing he needed, if he was being honest, was taking care of a bunch of drunk friends and, what was more, he wasn’t gonna drive any of them home, it was Sam’s car after all, he had called designated driver. But then it dawned on him, they were going to the Compound and the girls would be there, wouldn’t they? Suddenly his spirits were lifted and a soft smile crossed his face. But he was snapped from his thoughts again by Bucky.

“Look, I know you’re pissed. You’re still sore from the accident, I get it.” Bucky started to scold him but was interrupted by Sam.

“We’re here. Can someone text him?” Sam announced pulling in a spot in front of Thor’s building.

“Got it.” Clint offered pulling out his phone.

He unclasped the car belt and moved closer to Bucky so as to leave space for Thor in the backseat while fiddling with his phone. Bucky stirred in his seat feeling suddenly trapped.

“Can you move your seat up?” he asked Sam

“No” Sam said without even flinching a muscle on his face.

“Asshole.” Bucky muttered.

He looked at Steve who seemed to be lost in his thoughts and then he turned to look at Clint who kept on texting on his phone.

“Ok. Peralta says he’s meeting us at the Compound. He’s having dinner with some video games buddies now but he’ll meet us later.” Clint informed the rest.

“Will Tony be there?” Steve asked suddenly.

“Of course he will” Clint snorted. “He clocks in day in and day out.”

“Yeah, Pepper has him wrapped around her finger.” Sam added nodding.

“Women.” Bucky sighed looking at his Captain who was looking at the front stoic as ever.

“Greetings, morons!”

Thor’s voice reverberated in the cabin of the car as he sat in the only free seat and closed the door grinning. Everyone greeted him back and Sam started the car again.

“Why are you carrying an umbrella?” Clint asked Thor “It isn’t even cloudy.”

“Oh! It’s my lucky charm.” he said happily. “My lucky umbrella, my father gave it to me when I was a kid.”

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Steve mused from the front seat.

“And a mistake. I mean are you gonna be attached to your lucky charm all night?” Sam asked, hands on the steering wheel.

“I make grave mistakes all the time, everything seems to work out in the end.” Thor shrugged and tapped Steve on the shoulder. “Captain, what are you doing here? I thought you were still recovering from your car crash. You should be sitting at home in your bathrobe, eating grapes.“

"Yeah, or plums.” Bucky added. “Don’t encourage him. He is enough grumpy as it is.”

“Yeah, not helping blondie.” Clint quipped.

“You’re so petty and tiny.” Thor scoffed.

They continued picking on one another for the rest of the journey and the time they spent at the pizza restaurant. Two hours later the five of them were at the main entrance to the Compound, one of the most popular clubs in Brooklyn in the last few years. The club was run by Pepper, Tony’s fiancé, so they were greeted warmly by Happy, the doorman, who let them in immediately after a short informal chat.

“Welcome, Gentlemen” Pepper greeted the group who had now approached the bar where she was chatting idly with Tony. “What a sight for sore eyes, Steve!” she added now kissing Steve on the cheek.

“Yeah, what brings you here Capsicle? Last time I checked you were in a hospital bed looking like shit.” Tony asked Steve.

“Yeah, Katie told us about it.” Pepper interjected signalling between her and Tony. “How are you now? Are you ok? Is there anything I can bring you?”

“I’m fine Pepper, honestly thank you, just a few cuts and bruises. And a glass of water would be great, thanks.”

“Water coming right up.” said Pepper gesturing for the barman to come and take their orders.

“Water, Rogers?” Tony mocked him. “Beers for all for starters. That’s on me and I’m buying a bottle of the best champagne we have so meet me in our private booth when you’re done.”

The group cheered happily at Tony’s offer and sat on the bar stools waiting for their drinks.

A pretty blonde waitress placed a glass of water and a beer bottle on the bar in front of Steve and winked at him, who obliviously took a painkiller from the blister and swallowed it with a bit of water. He didn’t want to take it but the constant bickering of his friends and the loud music and dim lights of the club were making his head pound.

He was sipping from his beer bottle when someone slapped his back causing him to wince at the pain.

“Hey, Rogers. Nice to see you man!” Peralta greeted.

“Hey, Jake. How you doin’?” Steve greeted back with a sincere smile while Peralta nodded and fist bumped Clint.

“Did you come alone?” Clint asked him.

“Yeah, but meeting a friend at some point tonight. He’s working until later.” Peralta answered as he shook hands with Bucky and Sam. “Barnes, good to see you again. Wilson?”

“Hey man.” Sam nodded, and Peralta looked beyond him towards Thor who was scanning the dance floor while moving his head and feet to the beat of the music.

“Oh, you brought Point Break.” Peralta quipped, turning to Clint.

“Yeah, you can’t get rid of him easily, especially if we’re talking about revels.” Clint commented.

“Revels?” Peralta asked frowning.

“A Party, that’s what he calls it.” Sam offered.

“Wow, and I thought Holt had a weird vocabulary.” Peralta muttered.

A little while later Thor had disappeared onto the dance floor and the rest were already on their second beer while chatting animatedly. Steve was beginning to regret having mixed alcohol and meds. Feeling a bit lightheaded, he was seriously considering calling a cab and going home when he heard Peralta whistle through his teeth and Bucky let out a breathy curse.

“Damned.”

“What?” he asked turning around to ask what was going on. They were both looking at the back of the Compound, towards the booths and that was when he noticed what had taken their attention. Katie was stood side on to them, talking to Tony. She was dressed in a dark blue short jumpsuit that sported a large white flowered pattern and a plunge neck line that dipped almost to her navel. Her shoes were high heeled black sandals with a silvery cuff round the ankle and as she turned to say something to Natasha, Steve saw that the back of the jumpsuit was bare bar where the fabric crossed across to each shoulder from the opposite hip.

God she looked gorgeous, scratch that, she looked more than gorgeous.  

“Fuck!” Steve cursed when he noticed his beer had been dribbling down his front. He took a pair of cocktail napkins and tried to dry his shirt while Bucky, Peralta and Sam cackled at him. He groaned and continued wiping as Bucky put one arm over his shoulder.

“Keep it cool, man. It’s not like you don’t know what’s under those clothes.” he said in a low voice, winking at Steve.

“Shut up, Bucky.” Steve snapped but had to do as told as the girls were approaching the bar.

“Hey fellas.” Natasha drawled, “You coming over to join us?”

“Once Rogers has dried off, yeah.” Clint said.

Diaz looked at him, frowning. “Dried off.” “Yeah someone nudged me and I spilt…” he said, gesturing to the front of his shirt.

Katie shrugged “Can’t see anything, your shirt’s black.”

“It’s nice.” Wanda nodded, looking at Steve. He took a deep breath, thinking back to what Bucky had said and merely smiled at the woman politely. Behind Wanda he saw Diaz and Natasha exchange a smirk. Katie, however, was focussed on something else.

“Is that the one I bought you for your birthday last year?” Katie asked, reaching out to gently run her hand over the collar, and Steve nodded and didn’t miss the scowl on Wanda’s face. Totally oblivious to the daggers she was being given, Katie grinned “Wanda’s right, it looks good.”

He smiled at her and then turned politely to Wanda who had said something to him, and Bucky watched as Katie’s eyes lingered on them both for a little longer her eyebrow raised, almost in amusement at the other woman’s attempts to flirt with Steve fell flat.

“You want Stevie to go into cardiac arrest or something?” Buck leaned over to talk into her ear and she turned to look at him “The man is drugged and on alcohol and then you come along looking like that.”

“Fuck off Bucky.” Katie bit back “I wore this because it makes me feel good, you asshole, not for anyone else. And it’s not like I knew you were coming. Why are you guys even here anyway?”

“Boys’ night out” Bucky shrugged.

Katie raised an eyebrow at him “Yeah, of all the places you could pick to go you just…”

At that she stopped and her head cocked to one sided as she caught the first beats of a song playing.

“Oh, God!” she squealed. Bucky was just about to ask her what was going on but he was too late, she leaned towards Steve and gently grabbed his hand, turning his attention away from Wanda as she curled her hand round his.

“Stevie, listen.”

A big mischievous grin crossed Steve’s face when he heard the song and next thing he knew he was being dragged by Katie to the dance floor. Leaving Wanda slack jawed with frustration.

“What the fuck? Is he dancing?” Bucky asked Clint and Nat who were stood at the bar next to him, unable to keep his eyes from Katie and Steve dancing and laughing like crazy to I’ll be there for you by The Rembrandts.

“Yeah, they always dance to this, it’s like their song.” Clint answered before sipping from his beer bottle.

“Give him a minute, he will do his Joey.” Natasha told Bucky while keeping an eye on Wanda who had just sidled back into the booth and was now pouting and stabbing the bar with her cocktail umbrella. At that Steve launched into some kind of odd dance move, which he still manage to make look quite graceful “Oh, yep. There we go.”

“Unbelievable” Bucky mused shaking his head, happy to see his bestie cut loose. “She really brings out that kid from Brooklyn, doesn’t she?”

“You could say that.” Nat said with a side smile while Clint nodded in agreement. They all watched as one of Steve’s arms curled round Katie’s waist, his large hand splaying on her back as they continued to dance around to the upbeat music, Katie’s head tipped back in laughter and a huge grin spread across Steve’s face.

At that point Bucky heard Wanda snort and strut down the club to the restrooms bumping into people on her way.

“Ah leave her.” Natasha said with a sigh, draining her glass.

“So Rogers has two women fighting over him…” Peralta leaned back “Lucky bastard.” “He’s eyes for no one but Stark.” Bucky said, shrugging “So wouldn’t really call it a fight.” “Well, to be honest, I wouldn’t really want to get in a fight with Stark anyway…” Peralta nodded. “Damned she can be vicious.”

***** A few hours later they were all sat together in Tony’s private booth drinking champagne, except for Katie who had finished her drink and had gone dancing with Rosa and Gina, and Steve who had gone to the restroom.

"This bottle is empty.” Thor said shaking the bottle in the air.

“I’ll go fetch another one.” Tony said standing up ceremoniously.

“I don’t want that bubbly shit. Anyone in for some tequila shots?” Thor asked as he also stood up and went to the bar without waiting for an answer.

“Oh…my…God!” Natasha suddenly slurred nudging Clint who was beside her.

"This is better than we expected” Clint whispered, grinning.

“What? What’s happening” Bucky asked.

He looked at Natasha who didn’t answer but he followed her gaze only to spot a tall handsome brunette chatting with Peralta and Santiago.

“What is he doing here?”  Nat hissed to Clint

“Don’t know. Must be the buddy Peralta said he was meeting.“ Clint answered Nat.

"Who is he?” Bucky frowned.

“Storm” Wanda, who was nibbling a piece of lime, explained to Bucky “He’s a fireman and has the hots for Stark” she practically purred.

“Well, this is awkward.” Sam deadpanned.

“You know what? I’m gonna help Thor with the shots.” Wanda said to the group.

“Ok. I’m lost” Bucky said once Wanda was out of earshot.

“Phase 2, Barnes” Natasha’s eyes glinted “The plan was getting them drunk and leave them alone, wasn’t it? But, this is brilliant!” she clapped excitedly. “Steve’s gonna see him here, get all jealous and protective…”

“Ok, but someone needs to keep flash fire dude away from Stark until Captain Slow can make his move…” Sam warned looking as Steve was coming back from the restroom and was approaching the bar.

"Uh oh, too late” Bucky said moving his head towards Wanda who was talking to Johnny Storm and pointing at Katie’s direction before she gestured to their booth.

“Fuck.” Clint hissed.

“Should have seen that coming.” Natasha groaned.

“Can’t blame her, Witchy is only playing the cards she has left.” Clint chuckled.

“All right, Steve coming at your 9. Everybody play it cool. Let’s see how this unfolds.” Sam muttered.

It was only seconds after Steve had sat in the booth with another beer in his hands that Thor came carrying a tray with shots and a bottle of tequila, followed by Wanda and Johnny.

“Here, let me help you.” Wanda offered Thor.

“I told you I can handle this” he said placing the tray on the table “Fortunately, I am mighty.” he said casually tossing the bottle in the air and catching it expertly.

Bucky saw as Natasha gave a filthy look to Wanda who was now sitting between her and Steve.

“What? Wanda whispered.

"You know what.” Natasha muttered at her.

Steve’s eyes flickered up to the dark haired man and he did a double take. That was the Flash Fireman, the friend of Peralta’s that Katie had been talking to at the Christmas Party. He took a deep breath and felt his shoulders stiffen slightly as he looked around, spotting that Katie, Diaz and Gina were making their way over. He took a deep breath and his nostrils flared as Johnny blatantly looked Katie up and down as she made her way over.

“S’Up Fire Boy?” Diaz asked him “No kittens to rescue from a tree?”

“Off duty…” Johnny grinned “And stop pretending you’re not happy to see me Diaz.” “Yeah, that’s her happy face, just for clarity.” Gina nodded, folding her arms “Her angry face…well, no one who’s seen it has lived to tell the tale.”

There were a few chuckles from the table until Thor roared out that it was time for shots. Katie slid into the booth on the spare seat next to Johnny as Bucky and Steve both stood up to grab extra stools for Diaz and Gina. Once they were all seated Thor passed the shots around and Steve hastily slammed his down as he watched Katie leaning slightly into Johnny, the pair of them chatting. As Steve watched he held out his arm of his jacket and Katie smiled, reaching out to gently stroke it.

“You like it?” he asked looking at her “It’s a new material made by my sister, she’s an engineer.”  he said sliding an arm around Katie’s shoulder “It keeps the hot stuff hot and the cool stuff cool.”

“Yeah, can’t have your brain overheating, can we?” Steve jabbed at him, rolling his eyes.

Bucky chuckled at Steve’s comment and Katie tried to hide her smile sipping from her glass.

“I’m not wearing a hat.” Johnny frowned earning a withering look from Steve and Katie choked on her Martini. At that point there was no hiding the grin spreading across her face and Bucky saw her glance at Steve, probably to share another one of those knowing, inside smiles, but her expression slipped.  He looked over to see Wanda laugh at Steve’s joke and hold onto his left arm. And the Captain made no move to shrug her off. Instead, he turned into her, his arm moving only to drape round the back of the bench they were on.

Uh Oh.

“Are you ok, princess?” Bucky’s attention flicked back to Johnny who was looking at Katie. “Wanna dance?” he asked with his playful signature smile.

“Yeah, why not?” She said, shooting another glare at Steve. She stood up and flash fired dude slipped his arm round her, hand gripping at her hip as he steered her into the middle of the dancefloor

“I’m dancing too.” Natasha said standing up “And you’re all coming with me. This is a girl’s night after all…”she added dragging Wanda up out of the seat before she turned around and mouthed do something at Bucky.

Bucky looked at Clint and Sam for support, he wasn’t sure what it was that Natasha expected him to do. The situation was disastrous enough as it was.

The pretty blond waitress from the bar came to collect the tray and empty bottles scattered over the table and gave Steve an intense look.

"Want another drink or anything else, handsome? A dance maybe?”

“No thanks” Steve groaned. He stood up and simply said “Excuse me” before walking towards the bar.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked Bucky and Sam who were looking at her sympathetically.

“Don’t take it personally. He’s in love.” Bucky shrugged.

“Oh, so is he taken?” she asked apologetically.

“Not exactly…” Sam tried to explain.

“What? Is she blind or something?” the waitress said wiping the table with a rag.

“Something like that.” Clint scoffed.

Bucky sat back and tried to come up with a way to redirect the situation. Jealous and drunk Steve was not a good combination but now it was pointless trying to fix the disaster as he saw Steve perched on a stool by the bar, another beer in hand, looking at the dance floor like a wolf.

And then, it was almost like it was happening in slow motion. Wanda, who had slunk off the dancefloor made her way over to Steve where she draped herself, shamelessly over him. And before Bucky could even move to warn Steve, as he could see what was happening a mile off, she’d slipped her arms round his neck and pulled him down to kiss her.

Bucky let out a groan and he turned to the dancefloor to see Natasha stood there, hand over her mouth and she turned to look at him. He waved his hand over his throat furiously, in an attempt to get Natasha to sort it out but it was too late.  Bucky’s eyes flickered to Katie whose attention was fully on Steve and her face fell.

“You left Wanda unleashed!” Bucky practically yelled, exaggerating his words so Natasha could see what he was saying, as he pointed in the direction of Steve and Wanda at the bar.

“Abort phase two. This is a disaster.” Clint groaned. Meanwhile, Thor laughed loudly and clapped.

“Matchmakers of the year, ladies and gentlemen!” he said.

“Where you even here?” Clint asked visibly annoyed.

In all fairness to Steve, he hadn’t been expecting Wanda to make a move like that. It took a while for his drunken brain to catch up with what was going on, but when he finally did he gently caught Wanda on the hips and pushed her away.

“Wanda…” he shook his head “I’m sorry, you’re a great girl and everything but…”

He stood up and looked around, and then he felt his heart sink. Katie and the Fancy Fireman were heading for the exit, hand in hand. Bucky was also watching the two of them leave, and his attention turned to Steve and the utter look of devastation the Captain wore.  

Fuck.

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