#also those maybe unidentifiable things in some of the bedrooms are chairs

[miniscrew-anon]

HSH House Floor Plans

So I was trying to write something and I was having a hard time visualizing it. So I decided to sketch out what I thought the HSH house looked like to make it easier. Originally it was just a doodle for myself but then I got carried away and ended up with way more detail than I set out to do. So I’m just gonna post it here just for fun!

Starting out on the bottom floor:

(I know these lines aren't straight. I know things look wonkey. Yes, it bothers me too. But i'm lazy and I'm not going to do it neater. I didn't have any graph paper, okay?)

This is what I envision when I write out the house (second one, not the original townhouse). 

Starting on the sidewalk I have you walk up a few steps to get to the front door. The foyer is where the staircase goes all the way up so you can see the top floor, so it’s open ceiling there. Aside from that tiny alcove where the front door is. A little closet under the stairs for your shoes and coats is about the only real ‘feature’ aside from high ceilings (and poor murdered thermostat). 

Moving up, we go into the living room and come across the bay window. Or as I like to call it - Sky’s sleepy spot! It gets a lot of light and it makes him feel like a happy remlit to sleep there. There’s a big bookcase and a small sofa for the anti-social too. 

There's a bathroom (because it’d be weird for there to be no bathroom on the first floor) but I was too lazy to map it out so use your imagination there. 

Then we hit the main area of the living room - the TV spot! The TV is mounted above the fireplace and there’s a shit ton of space to chill thanks to a very nice sectional sofa. Coffee table to hold your drinks and snacks. There’s a shelf unit behind the couch for all their games and movies and a door that leads outside. 

Into the Kitchen/Dining Area! 

The Kitchen is huge and has a shit ton of counterspace and cabinets. There's what's almost an industrial sized fridge/freezer and two stovetops and ovens. And of course what kitchen would be complete without an island and a breakfast counter.

The dining area probably has, like, fine china in cabinets or something but I was too lazy to draw it in so just imagine that it's very classy. All I could muster was drawing that huge table. No chairs tho lol

There’s a door into the garage. Take a few steps down to make it more even with the street and there’s space for the cars and the bikes to the right. To the left there’s a huge pile of miscellaneous shit Time brought from the old townhouse and things that Legend can’t store in his room. The lower left of the garage is sectioned off by an invisible line that Four draws by glaring at you when you cross it. Enter at your own risk. But he does permit people to come in to wash their clothes in the laundry machines/dryers behind his space.

Out back there's the porch and shed. I didn’t draw the furniture, grill or tree (or treehouse) but rest assured it’s there. The yard is fenced in but any assassin worth their salt can jump it, so Time has garden lights out on the perimeter to keep it from being too dark to see at night.

The Second Floor:

The second floor is basically all bedrooms. So. many. Bedrooms. I almost didn’t fit them all because holy sheet there are a lot of boys in the house and they all have to live on the second floor. Even Wind because I’m pretty sure he’s on the second floor with the others in the new place.

Going clockwise from bottom right;

The small bathroom. Not as big, not as nice, but still coveted. Time made sure to have more than one bathroom in the new place because the boys threatened mutiny if they all had to keep sharing one. And to be fair, it was a rather big oversight the first time. If Time had gotten the ten kids he’d wanted he would have had a lot of unhappy campers.

Wind’s bedroom is a mess. He chose this bedroom because it shared a room with only one of the others and it was close to a bathroom. He opted for a single bed to have more room for his computer set up, since he’d downgraded from the townhouse in terms of bedroom size (and he wasn’t going to need a double anytime soon). He’s got a big honking chair because he spends so much time in it and mounds of junk on the floor because he doesn't have a dresser. The X is the forbidden zone where his clothes go to die and feed the colony of bacteria and teenage boy germs.

Wild’s bedroom isn’t really optimized. A random dresser on the wall leaves a lot of dead space around. He has a lot of stuff and not enough places to store it so a lot of it ends up between his bed and the wall. It smells nicer than Wind’s pile though. Instead of a desk he has a vanity, but due to disorganization it houses his mixing board now. 

Twilight ended up with a corner room because he likes having a lot of light. His bed faces the windows because it helps him wake up in the morning to have the sun beam its light directly into his retinas. He’s got a desk and a closet that he keeps pretty clean. He didn’t know what to do with the space behind or in front of his bed so he got a thin shelf and shoved it in. He’s not super satisfied because it feels like he’s wasting space but he’s got other things to think about these days.

Sky’s room is neat and cozy. Thanks to the weird corner he had a hard to optimizing his space but he figured it out. His bed faces the door because unlike some people he actually doesn’t appreciate the sun trying to burn his eyes in the morning. His desk is on wheels so he tossed his chair away and just drags it to the edge of his bed when he actually needs to use it. It saves space and Sky gets extra time in his bed. Yes, he is a master of his craft.

Warriors opted for a very small desk so he could better fit in another wardrobe for his clothes. The room is smaller than he’d like but it’s close to the nice bathroom and that’s what’s important to him. (not pictured it the full sized mirror that hangs on the wall in front of his closet). Being a social creature, Wars doesn’t spend much time in his room so he doesn’t need it to be big. And after living in the barracks he’s more than used to living in small spaces. The biggest challenge for him was finding enough room for his clothes. Thankfully he cycles through Time’s wardrobe so it’s a non-issue.

The bigger bathroom is bigger and better and almost always has a line in front of it in the mornings. (That's what the couch out in the hallway is for. Waiting.)

The rooms on this side of the house are actually smaller than the ones on the other side and don’t have closets, which was a big thing to consider when the boys were picking rooms. Despite the smaller space, eventually Legend and Hyrule chose these two because they are adjoining, which makes it easier for them. Legend's room is mostly storage aside from his signature rug where he performs his work rituals and his altar, which he keeps pristine among the clutter.

They both sleep in Hyrule's room. Legend respects Hyrule's space and keeps his clutter to his own room, only using the bed. The chest at the foot of the bed holds most of Hyrule's things but it has to be either dragged out to be opened because it’s so close to the wall, or you have to smush yourself against the wall. Usually Hyrule smushes because he’s too tired to go digging around. But he doesn’t have to go into it often because his day-to-day things are kept in the thin dresser along his wall. It’s very small but Hyrule lives frugally and doesn’t own a lot aside from his work clothes, which he hangs behind his door to keep them from wrinkling.

Four won the corner room from Sky in a rock-paper-scissors dispute because of the window. It's an impossibly cozy nook that Four loves to read at when the weather is gray and a bit dreary. It really sets the mood. But truthfully he hadn’t really wanted the room because of the window. He likes it because it puts him as far from everyone else as possible. Not that he doesn’t love the guys but Four is private and he doesn’t want to deal with people walking past his door and peering in randomly. All the spaces above, below and around are as quiet as he can get so the corner room was worth fighting for. The privacy is extra nice when he has a guest staying over. The lack of space isn’t bad either since he doesn’t have much to begin with and anything he actually needs he can just store in the garage.

The Danger Ledge is a small space between the banister and the large window at the front of the house that lets in a lot of natural light. It's called the Danger Ledge because you have to climb around to get to it. Many a boy was bruised in their constant endeavor to climb the Danger Ledge, thus it earned it's name.

The Third Floor:

Upon hitting the top of the stairs you can find a little seating area. It’s just a quiet place to sit that doesn’t belong to anyone else and also is away from everyone else. For the occasional need to decompress without another presence. 

Then there’s the master bedroom. And god, is it big. The bed is basically the size of one of the bedrooms downstairs. There is a dresser with a big TV there for when Malon visits or for when Time needs to watch his soaps without judgment (joking. Maybe). 

And of course he has a huge walk-in closet and private bathroom. It’s got the biggest, nicest tub and no one else is allowed to use it. Everyone else is very bitter about it.

His office is opposite that. Big desk and a huge bookcase to hold his old cases, a fireplace and brooding window for ambiance. And another seating area, this time just for in case any of the boys pay him a visit. There’s also an armchair next to the couch so he can sit there and discuss things on the couch that I forgot to draw in. Oops lol

Then the last room is the newest. Originally it was another storage room but since Winds been helping so much and his newest rig needs a lot of space, Time gave it up so he could have his own space. With the stipulation that he keeps it neater than his bedroom

[fablesrose]

Of Kings and Shadows XX

Description: Y/n, a girl who seems to have found her calling. Being a SHIELD agent is like a dream come true. With a friendship starting to form with the Avengers, she’s the Queen of the world! What could go wrong?

Pairings: Avengers x reader, Loki x reader (eventually)

Notes: On Wattpad –> Here

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Nick, what are we doing here?" Tony was leaning back in his chair of the conference room, not looking amused. "Couldn't you have just stuck it in a file?"

Nick Fury stood at the head of the table, looking at every one of the thirteen people in the room individually. "We've come upon some new information about a new branch of Hydra and its top weapon."

Pietro spun in his chair with a groan, "I thought we had gotten rid of them."

"Well, kinda like a Hydra, if you cut off one head, two more grow back in its place." Fury answered him in a patient tone that everyone knew wasn't going to stay for very long if he kept being interrupted.

"Bold words about an organization with an octopus as its logo," Loki didn't even look up from his book that he didn't walk into the room with.

Clint swiveled to look at him in the corner of the room, "Loki, you gotta let it go."

"I will not!"

Fury began to talk loudly over them to regain their attention, "The organization changed its name to fit it's leader's dress up game, it now goes by The Kingdom, but as far as we are concerned, it is still Hydra."

"You mentioned a weapon?" Vision sat invested in the meeting, unlike most of the others.

"That's what they are calling her, yes."

"How long has she been active?" Bucky spoke quietly, but firmly from his seat.

Nick paused a moment, watching Bucky before he answered, "As far as we can tell at least three years."

"And you're just telling us now?!" Steve straightened in his seat, not happy with the lack of transparency.

"Cool it, Rogers, they didn't have any information other than that she existed." Nat looked up from cleaning her nails.

Steve raised his eyebrows at her, "Oh, and they told you?"

"No."

Pietro started to roll his chair around the room, "Why is this meeting so long?" He dragged out the last word as he rolled around the table.

Loki used his foot to stop him when he approached, "If you don't stop whining I'm gonna make sure repayment is unnecessary."

"I owe you nothing!"

"I'm pretty sure saving your life is the definition of you owing me something."

"Blah!"

"Alright!" Sam yelled, throwing his hands in the air, sick of the bickering. "What kinda powers this chick got?"

Tony held a few fingers to his forehead, "Do I need to call anyone? The spider-kid, King Panther? Ant-dude? The wizards?"

Nick took back control, "Not for now, Tony. We don't know where she is or where she is going to strike next. We know she is enhanced, but no one can figure out exactly if she has powers, and if she does, what they are. For now, we just need you to be aware. She is extremely skilled in infiltration and we have no idea what she looks like, just that she was able to take an extremely valuable target on their behalf at a high profile event we had under surveillance and walk out unnoticed, and unidentified."

"So what you're saying," Rhodes spoke up for the first time, "is that we don't know what she looks like, don't know what she can do, but she's out there. So lookout."

Fury sighed, "Yes, that is exactly what I'm saying."

"So," Bruce looked at Fury, puzzled, "what do you want us to do?"

He shook his head, "I don't know."

There were a few beats of silence, no one knowing what to do.

Thor was leaning against the wall, listening quietly, believe it or not, "And her name?"

Throughout the meeting, Fury had been standing, but at this question, he sat down to answer it, "They're calling her The Queen."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another rich diplomat. Another party. And of course what's a party anymore without either a murder or a kidnapping? The real question is: why not both?

That's how it's been lately. The missions Noxy goes on are usually parties, balls, banquets. She goes in, gets the target alone with baffling ease, and either extracts the information herself right then and there, or delivers him to fellow agents and wipes her hands clean.

I've grown used to what she's doing. No matter how long or hard I tried to break free from the cage I was trapped in, nothing changed. Not even a blink.

So I stopped trying. I watched. I watched as she murdered. I watched as she tortured. I watched as she developed the unimaginable powers that were given. I watched as she became everything I wanted to be. I watched as she became everything I didn't.

I learned how to block out a lot of things that she did. It was manageable to block out one sense, usually sight. It got hard when I had to block two, and it became impossible if it grew to three. Touch was the hardest to stop. It was especially frustrating when that was all I wanted to block out.

The target was some rich dude with high standing in some organization that had some information that Henry needed. The briefings were the one time I was consistently not paying any attention. Once again her sights were placed upon a well dressed, old, white, balding man. The white dress that clung to my figure must have made my body irresistible to well dressed, old, white, balding men because while Noxy skirted just outside his circle, his eyes followed.

Just like all the others, he was caught hook, line, and sinker.

It was simple really, it was almost like there was a formula. Champagne glass half full held delicately by the fingertips. A casual lean against the bar, the leg with the slit slightly out-turned to show an inch or two of more skin.

They all think they're playboys. Just once I can't wait for Noxy to have to think of something different when having to get a well-respected scientist who loves his wife away from the crowd.

With a sultry stare and flirty introductions, a witty remark and the swing of the hips and they're gone from the crowd. His hand was planted at the small of her back, but the farther we strayed from the crowd the farther his hand strayed.

The mansion the banquet thingy was being hosted at was nice. It was nice as all of the other mansions were. He guided Noxy down a long hallway, farther and farther from all the people who could protect him. He eventually came to a large bedroom and opened the door, allowing Noxy to go in first.

I knew what was about to happen, so I started the theme song that I had come up for her.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CduA0TULnow 

I think I did it again I made you believe we're more than just friends Oh baby It might seem like a crush But it doesn't mean that I'm serious 'Cause to lose all my senses That is just so typically me Oh baby, baby

He closed the door with a barely noticeable click and began to approach Noxy. Unfortunately for him, she wasn't in the mood.

Oops, I did it again I played with your heart, got lost in the game Oh baby, baby

She picked at her nails for a moment before his eyes grew wide looking at her hands. The reason for his stare was the black pigment that spread from her fingertips up her arms.

Oops, you think I'm in love That I'm sent from above

He started to turn around, but Noxy was too fast for him. The darkness was too fast for him.

I'm not that innocent

A cloud, a shadow, that's what was emitted from her hands that engulfed the target's head and face. It was there for a moment, then it was gone just as quickly. His body collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

You see my problem is this I'm dreaming away Wishing that heroes, they truly exist I cry, watching the days Can't you see I'm a fool in so many ways But to lose all my senses That is just so typically me Oh baby, oh

With the target on her shoulder, she walked away from the bedroom window towards the extraction point, with heels on still, mind you.

Oops, I did it again I played with your heart, got lost in the game Oh baby, baby Oops, you think I'm in love That I'm sent from above I'm not that innocent

The mansion was built in a remote part of the world, surrounded by a forest with at least a hundred miles of privacy. Noxy scaled the uneven terrain easily enough, though she did occasionally hike up her skirt and push off of the trees to give her momentum.

Oops, I did it again to your heart Got lost in this game, oh baby Oops, you think that I'm sent from above I'm not that innocent

I'm not sure how long I've watched her go on these missions. I'm not sure when the last time was when I blinked of my own free will. It feels like a lifetime, but it also feels so close, like only yesterday I could brush my fingers through my hair and if I just pushed a little harder, I could do it again. I've been in here for months, I know, but if those months added up to a year or more, I had no idea.

Oops, I did it again I played with your heart, got lost in the game Oh baby, baby

Somehow, out of all the hundreds of miles of trees and darkness, Noxy came upon a pair of men. They looked to be surveiling. I had no idea who they worked for, but I could tell they were professionals. They saw Noxy too late, which is hilarious since she's wearing a stark white dress and heels with a man on her shoulder. Though she was naturally quiet, there's only so much you can do to muffle that sound. Noxy didn't even have to shift the target from her shoulder when she fired up her shadow hands, but she was not so merciful to these agents. From her fingers flew a beam of darkness. Technically I could barely see it from the combination of speed and the lack of light. The trees above carefully shielded the ground from the shine of the moon and her sister stars.

Oops, you think I'm in love That I'm sent from above

I've seen maybe thousands of beams just like it though. It mimicked the shape of an icicle, though made of shadows or some sort of unidentifiable pitch-black material. The first man fell to the ground with a gaping hole at the base of his throat. The second attempted to draw a weapon but was struggling to get the gun out of its straps. Noxy took the time to walk closer to him until they were no farther than a few feet away. I could see the fear in his eyes, and I'm sure he could see the indifference or maybe even pleasure in hers. She sent a spear of shadow into his stomach. She wanted him to die slowly. Or at least with how much blood was coming from the wound, slower.

He fell to the ground and tried to crawl away backward all the while trying to keep the blood inside his body.

Noxy didn't care anymore for him and left him to suffer in the dirt. She continued on in her mission.

I'm not that innocent

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Avengers were gathered in the common room for some downtime when F.R.I.D.A.Y caught everyone's attention.

"Director Nick Fury is calling."

"Put 'im on," Tony waved his hand as he sat down on the couch.

Fury was projected onto the screen in the common room and he was relieved to see that everyone was already there.

"What's up?"

Fury took a breath as if to prepare himself for what he was about to say, "We have a singular feature to identify The Queen with."

Everyone suddenly became quite serious and sat up in their seats. The more anxious ones scooted closer and were barely on the cushions waiting for him to elaborate.

Pietro was curious, but not too worried, "Only one?"

"Our informant died before we could get any more of a description."

Pietro swallowed but didn't speak again.

Fury had a grave look on his face as he revealed what they had to look for,

"She has black eyes."

[voyager-into-the-unknown]

Part 6 of my Plance fanfic series is inspired by the song “Lucky” as sung by Lance’s voice actor, Jeremy Shada. Get ready for intimacy, hilarity, and the fluffiest of fluff in Pidge’s room. Lance and Pidge sing in this chapter. Guest starring Bae Bae and the Trash Floofs. (That might be a good name for their band if they decide to start one.)

https://youtu.be/6Sn_O9vDlR0

Part 6: An Intimate Moment in the Bedroom

Lance had been in Pidge’s room before, both on the castleship and onboard the Atlas. It was always a mess of odds and ends from computers, robots, and unidentifiable alien technology. There were clothes strewn about (Paladin gear, Garrison uniform parts, or her brother’s old hand-me-downs), and a couple of fluffy trash nebula creatures floating around. Her pets, she called them, but she wouldn’t ever tell anyone their names. When Pidge opened the door, he wasn’t prepared for the sight before him.

There were books and video games neatly lined up on bookshelves, a tidy desk and chair, many photos in frames and a few posters on the walls. There were model spaceships and robots on display, along with a teddy bear and a mermaid plushie. There were wall decorations of distant stars and planets, matching her bedspread, which was patterned with constellations from Earth’s night sky. There was a television with a gaming console, a computer, various small electronic devices, and a telescope. She also had a little collection of perfume bottles, makeup containers, hair accessories, a jewelry box, and so many other cute girly things that Lance almost thought they might have entered the wrong room. He realized then, that he had only really seen Pidge Gunderson’s room. This was the bedroom of Katie Holt.

Lance stood there for a moment, just taking it all in, while Bae Bae darted in through the open door. There were old photos of the Holt family when Matt and Katie were little, and some from when they were a bit older, including several taken on the launch day of the ill-fated Kerebos mission. There was a newer family photo taken on board the Atlas, and an amusing one of the Holts in costume, taken at the Clear Day celebration. There were many photos of the Paladins as well, some taken onboard the Castle of Lions, others onboard the Atlas, and many from the various planets that they had visited. In nearly every single one of them Lance saw himself standing next to Pidge, often with one arm casually draped around her shoulders. She was always beaming at the camera or laughing in every picture of the two of them together. He smiled at the happy memories that the photos captured. She probably had many other pictures of the Voltron team, but she displayed only those particular photographs for a reason, as if to cherish those particular moments. Lance felt another pang of guilt when he saw those mementos, regretting how he wasted so much time in those days, flirting with strange females he barely even knew, when he should have been paying more attention to the amazing girl who had been by his side the entire time. Hunk’s words came back to haunt him. “She’s had a crush on you since forever,” and “She’s cried herself to sleep over you a thousand times.” Lance hated himself for not noticing her sooner, and thought maybe the Holts should have been even more protective of their daughter. He didn’t deserve her.

“You’re awfully quiet.” Pidge looked at him, concerned.

“You’re room isn’t what I expected. I’m just...overwhelmed. That’s all.”

“You think it’s too girly, right?”

“It is girly, but you’re a girl, so that’s perfectly natural.”

“But you don’t like it,” she said dejectedly.

“No! It’s just the opposite, really. I love this room. It’s really cute. In fact, if I ever have a little girl of my own someday, I would want her to have a room as cute as this one.” He was still staring at everything. He had just picked up a framed photo of himself, Pidge, and Kaltenecker that made him smile fondly. Pidge’s fluffy blue and green trash nebula friends floated over his shoulder, as if to admire the photo with him.

“A little girl? You’re already thinking about starting a family?”

“What?! Oh...” Lance’s face felt warmer than usual. He nervously set the photo back down. “Oh, uh, yeah...I’d like to have a family of my own someday.” He couldn’t believe he had just admitted that out loud. He dared to steal a glance at her, and when their eyes met, he could not look away.

Pidge looked at him with a soft expression, her lips slightly parted and her golden brown eyes wide with surprise. She was small and vulnerable, and at the same time, she was also his Pidge—strong and tough, courageous and brilliant, but still so very young and innocent. For a fleeting moment, in his mind’s eye, she was more beautiful, more radiant, more dazzling than every star in the sky. “I want a family with you,” he admitted. “Someday...I mean, if that’s what you want, too.” It was if his mouth had a mind of its own. The blue and green space pets seemed to be blushing right along with him, as if feeling empathy for his discomfort.

She smiled at him, then looked down at the floor, blushing adorably. “Yes,” she said quietly. She was quivering ever so slightly. “I want a family someday...” Her eyes began to water. She took her glasses off and wiped her eyes, then swallowed. “...with you.”

Lance moved towards her and pulled her close, enveloping her in a warm embrace. She buried her face in Lance’s chest, her shoulders shaking as she wept quietly, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. He hid his smile in her hair, inhaling her sweet scent. He wasn’t crying, there was just a bit of space dust in his eyes...

They stood like that for a long time, saying nothing. The only thing he could hear in the stillness of the room was the sound of her fluffy trash nebula friends softly trilling, and Bae Bae’s tail thumping against the floor. Pidge stopped shaking and her breathing slowed, Lance rubbed her back gently. She slid her arms around him and hugged him. When she finally let him go, he held her by the shoulders and looked at her.

“I love you, Katie,” he said,. “I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. I want to grow old with you. And I am just as terrified by it as you are.”

She grinned. “I love you too, Lance.” She reached up to touch his cheek. He closed his eyes blissfully to savor the gentleness of her touch, then looked at her through eyes that were half closed. “For me, it’s always been you, and I never thought you’d ever feel the same as I do. I am happier and more frightened than I have ever been in my life. Everything is happening so fast...”

His opened his eyes wider. “We need to slow down. I...I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. We have been best friends for years, and we share a Paladin bond. Ever since that last battle, when we fully bonded with our lions...”

“We have been closer than ever before. Which is why I can tell you, with great certainty, and without fear of retribution, that you look like a raccoon right now.”

“What?!”

“Your mascara.” He turned her toward the mirror, laughing a little.

“Ugh! I’m not used to wearing this stuff. This is so embarrassing.” She picked up a makeup wipe and began to dab under her eyes. He grinned at her awkward attempt to maintain her dignity.

“Stop it. This isn’t funny, Lance.”

“Yes, it is.” He couldn’t stop giggling at how silly she looked. Then he saw her hurt expression.

“I’m sorry. Please, allow me. Close your eyes.” Pidge obeyed. She turned her face towards him, and handed him the moist little cloth. He held her chin as he gently wiped the dark smears away. Then he lowered his head and kissed her lips softly. It was intended to be a quick chaste kiss, but Lance couldn’t suppress his joy when she cupped his face and kissed him back. He deepened the kiss, wanting more, and Pidge then began to kiss him with more intensity and passion than ever. Lance began to pull away, afraid that things were indeed moving way too fast. Pidge pushed him down on her bed. “Take off your shirt,” she commanded.

Lance looked at her, both aroused and terrified. “Pidge, I don’t think we should...”

“Take it off,” she said more gently, sitting very close to him on the bed. “Start undoing those buttons.”

“Pidge, I really respect you, and I don’t mind waiting until...”

Pidge shut him up with another kiss. She took adavantage of his surprise to begin unbuttoning his shirt.

“I really don’t think we should do this,” he said breathlessly as she continued to undress him. “Pidge, I’m really trying to be a gentleman about this.” She had undone all of his buttons.

“Take off your shirt,” she insisted.

“I think we should wait. Now isn’t the time for either of us to lose our virginity.” He was blushing so hotly that he nearly radiated steam.

Pidge cracked up, laughing so hard her sides hurt. “I’m not trying to seduce you, goofball. You have mascara all over your shirt. I’m going to put stain remover on that, then put it in the washer. It should be as good as new after that.”

Lance’s facial expression changed from aroused embarrassment to cool shock in an instant. “Pidge!”

Pidge was in giddy hysterics. “That look...on your face...priceless!” She wheezed at him, so overcome with laughter that she nearly fell off the bed.

Lance sighed as he took off his shirt and handed it too her. “I still think that you’re using this as an excuse to tear my clothes off.” He turned on the charm, and said in his deepest, most seductive voice, “I’m just so sexy that you just can’t resist me.”

“In your dreams, Loverboy.” She draped his shirt over one arm, and then made finger guns at him. “Gotcha!”

She exited the room with his shirt in hand, still giggling as she shut the door. The trash floofs made a kind of sandpapery sound, which was probably their equivalent of snickering. Bae Bae, on the other hand, just whined in sympathy as she thumped her tail on the floor.

*******

When Pidge returned to her room, she discovered that Lance had removed his shoes and was sitting cross-legged on top of her comforter, strumming his guitar. He was definitely underdressed, wearing only his gray trousers, white undergarments, and socks.

“Making yourself comfortable on my bed, Lance?”

“Obviously, I am trying to seduce you with my good looks, charm, and talent.” He smirked at her as he played an elaborate riff on the guitar. The fluffy blue and green alien pets trilled in harmony with his last chord.

Pidge laughed. “I think it’s working. But alas, as much as I would like to keep you up here in my bedroom half-dressed and swooning with mad affection for me, I don’t think my parents would approve. I brought you the sweater you left downstairs. You can put that on before we have supper, which should be in about an hour.”

“Won’t your parents suspect something? They might wonder what happened to my shirt.”

“If they notice, just tell them you spilled something on it, so I washed it for you. Now, about that song you wrote for me...”

Lance played his most recent version of the the song, which he entitled “Lucky.” Pidge was delighted with it, and kissed his cheek when he was done. She sat barefooted on the other end of the bed, facing him, and he taught her to sing her part in the song. They spent several minutes revising the lyrics. The final result was this:

"Lucky"

Lance: Do you hear me, I'm talking to you

Across the stars, across the galaxies

Under the open sky, oh my, baby I'm trying

Pidge: Boy, I hear you in my dreams

I feel your whisper across the stars

I keep you with me in my heart

You make it easier when life gets hard

[Both:]. Lucky I'm in love with my best friend

Lucky to have been where I have been

Lucky to be coming home again

Ooooh ooooh oooh oooh ooh ooh ooh ooh

Lance: They don't know how long it takes

Waiting for a love like this

Every time we say goodbye

I wish we had one more kiss

I'll wait for you, I promise you, I will

[Both:] Lucky I'm in love with my best friend

Lucky to have been where I have been

Lucky to be coming home again

Lucky we're in love in every way

Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed

Lucky to be coming home someday

Lance: And so I'm flying through the stars

To a planet where we'll meet

You'll hear the music fill the air

I'll put a flower in your hair

Pidge: Though the breezes through the trees

Move so pretty you're all I see

As the world keeps spinning round

You hold me right here right now

[Both:] Lucky I'm in love with my best friend

Lucky to have been where I have been

Lucky to be coming home again

I'm lucky we're in love in every way

Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed

Lucky to be coming home someday

They were so caught up in the music that they didn’t notice that Sam and Colleen were standing in the open doorway. Sam had his arm around his wife and a faraway expression in his eyes, smiling at some distant memory. Colleen was visibly moved by the song and looked on the young couple with admiration. When the song ended, the Holts applauded. Lance and Pidge blushed.

“Mom, isn’t he amazing?” Pidge gushed.

“Lance, you have a voice like an angel, dear.”

“I thought the song was wonderful. Well done, both of you!” Sam exclaimed.

“You two had better get ready for supper. Matt will be here soon, with takeout from Pizza Shack. And there’s plenty of leftovers from lunch today.”

When Sam and Colleen went back downstairs, Lance and Pidge put their shoes on, and Lance put his guitar back in its case. Pidge handed him his sweater.

“Well, that went well. What’s the plan for after supper?” Lance asked as he pulled his blue sweater on over his T-shirt.

“I was thinking we can get Matt to teach us how he finally got to level 36 of Killbot Phantasm.”

Lance beamed at her. “That is a great idea! Then I’ll give you the surprise that I brought over for you. It’s in the white bag on the sideboard downstairs.”

“That bag smelled suspiciously like peanut butter cookies,” Pidge said.

“Of course!”

[prettylittlesestras]

these are what they call hard feelings

“Ouch!” Beca yells as she’s jolted awake from a dead sleep by a magazine flying from across the room and landing on her face. She removes it and sits it down slowly on her nightstand without even opening her eyes, fighting the urge to launch it back where it came from. She rolls over and opens her eyes to see Amy frantically searching for something she must’ve lost in their mess of a room, tossing things from one side of the room to the other, and leaving a path of clothes, schoolwork, and empty Chinese takeout boxes all over the room like the aftermath of some sort of bedroom tornado.

“What the hell, Amy?” Beca is (justifiably) annoyed about being woken up by a flying book at ‘much-too-early o’clock’ on a Saturday morning. “What did you even lose, and do you really think throwing all of this crap from one place to another is going to help you find it?”

“I signed up to retake my stupid history midterm today, and I can’t find my notebook to take with me. I don’t know why they expect an Australian to learn American history, anyway. It’s ridiculous, really,” Amy mutters without looking up or stopping on her path of destruction.

Beca walks over to Amy’s desk and slides a heap of clothes off to the side to reveal the slender red notebook that had been ever-so-slightly poking out from the side of the pile. She throws it at Amy and hits her square on the back of the head, but the other girl doesn’t seem to mind. She runs the few steps over to Beca and squeezes her so hard that Beca’s seriously afraid her eyes might pop out of their sockets.

“Thanks, Mitchell, you’re a life saver,” Amy all but yells as she runs from the room and bounds down the stairs and out the door. Beca feels her stomach growl, so instead of trying to comprehend all that just happened in the first three and a half minutes of being awake, she heads downstairs to grab some breakfast. As she descends the staircase, she hears the other girls’ loud chatter in the kitchen, and she knows she’s in for a heck of a day if they’re this rowdy before 9am. She takes a deep breathe and blows it out slowly, readying herself for the copious amounts of human interaction she’s about to have to deal with.

As she enters the kitchen, she’s greeted with the sight of Chloe flipping pancakes on the griddle, Stacie taking a tray of bacon out of the oven, and Emily scrambling a pan of eggs over the stove. She’s surprised to see just the three other girls in the house considering the volume of the discussion she heard from the top of the stairs.

She sits down at the counter in her usual spot and notices the steaming mug (her favorite mug) full of coffee in front of her. She takes a long sip from the cup, careful not to burn herself, but eager to get the coffee into her system. Even after only one sip, she can feel the warm, caffeine-filled drink traveling through her body. Beca always compares the first sip of coffee in the morning to someone injecting liquid sunshine into her veins; it’s makes everything a little hotter, a little brighter, and just better in general.

She knows Chloe must’ve heard her coming down the stairs and filled her cup before her feet even touched the kitchen tiles, and for that she is eternally grateful. She’s also grateful for the fact that the girls are busy tending to the breakfast, unable to make conversation with Beca before she’s fully awake. Beca looks up to thank Chloe, but Chloe’s knowing eyes are already staring back at her. Their eye contact breaks when Chloe’s phone starts ringing in the living room. As she’s darting into the other room, she yells back, “don’t let my pancakes burn, Becs!”

Beca vacates her seat at the bar to stand behind the griddle. She’s never been much of a chef, but she doesn’t think preventing a pancake from burning should be all too difficult. As usual, she was wrong. When she starts to smell an acrid, burning smell emanating from the griddle, she flips the pancakes to find them burnt to a crisp. She decides to chuck them into the trashcan and ladle on some fresh batter before Chloe can notice.

Chloe returns and with her come those knowing eyes, not believing Beca’s tricks even for a moment. “Look, Becs. All you have to do is wait until you see those little bubbles in the batter,” she instructs as she steps up behind Beca and places her hand around the hand that Beca is using to grasp the spatula and guides the spatula under the pancake, tossing it into the air and letting it fall back onto the griddle, “and then flip.”

She releases Beca’s hand and walks away with a smug look on her face but not before giving her a firm, playful smack on her butt, blushing Beca’s cheeks instantly. She has to take a few deep breaths to calm herself but for a different reason than this morning. This time it’s because of some weird feeling that seems to have risen up into the pit of her stomach. Had she had the guts to call it what she knew it was, she would have called it a butterfly, but for now, it seems more like some kind of annoying little moth. At least that’s what she tells herself as she breathes deeply, in and out, trying to make whatever its go away.

After breakfast, Beca heads up to her room to work on a new mix for the Bellas. The only way she ever learned how to cope with the things she was struggling with growing up was to throw on a pair of headphones and drown out the world, and it seemed to work before, so why start trying something different now? She falls into her desk chair with a thud, begging for something to take her mind off of Chloe. She starts the music and lets her brain drift into auto-pilot, her fingers so familiar with the keys that she could mix in her sleep.

There’s always been something about Chloe. Something different. Beca’s always explained it away as her having a strong admiration for her best friend. She’s kind and strong and empathetic and beautiful and has the voice of an angel, but whatever. Anyone could see those things, and it would be dumb, stupid even, to not take note of them and admire them.

Sure, maybe she things did end with Jesse because she would rather hang out with Chloe than him, but that has more to do with what she realized were her lack of feelings for Jesse, not any sort of feelings for Chloe. And sure, maybe Chloe does flirt with her sometimes, and maybe it does give her the same sort of feeling she used to get in the beginning with Jesse. The same feeling she felt this morning. But Chloe could flirt with a rock wall and make it blush, and, after all, it still doesn’t mean anything.

When her mind snaps back into reality, she listens to what she’s mixed so far and deletes it without hesitation, the confused and panicked state of her brain not lending itself to free-flowing creativity. She decides to take a midday nap, sleep being the only truly effective way to turn her brain off. She climbs into bed and drifts off to sleep rather quickly, for the first time relieved that Amy woke her up unnecessarily early.

For the second time in one day, Beca is jolted from her sleep, awoken by another unidentified flying object hitting her in the face. It doesn’t take long to identify what the object is, one of Beca’s favorite shirts. But it isn’t Amy who woke her up this time, it’s Chloe.

“Wake up, sleepy head. I can’t host a party full of a capella nerds without my co-captain.” Chloe rummages through Beca’s closet until she finds a pair of black leather pants, rips them from their hanger, and throws those at her as well. Only when Beca starts to protest the flying clothes does she get a good look at Chloe. She’s wearing a blue flowing blouse and a tight black skirt. Whatever words were on their way out of Beca’s mouth fall to the floor (along with her jaw). She thinks she may have never seen someone so beautiful in her life. Actually, she feels her brain headed in that direction, so she stands, grabs her clothes, mumbles something incomprehensible, and heads to the bathroom, hoping her thoughts will vanish if she’s not looking at Chloe. They don’t. But she does compose herself enough to go back into her room, grab her shoes, and arrive downstairs just in time to see the first of the Trebles arriving.

The party goes on like a typical college party (with slightly more singing), and Beca is feeling a strong buzz when someone suggests playing truth or dare. Not being the kind of person who enjoys revealing personal details about herself to others, Beca would usually forego the game, but tonight she decides to participate. The Bellas and the Trebles gather around in a circle, some people on the couches and chairs, and others taking a seat on the floor. Most of the dares are pretty harmless. Someone dares Jessica to shotgun a beer, and she does so (surprisingly) with ease. Jesse dares Amy to drunk dial Bumper, and laughter takes over the room when she calls his cell phone and his mom answers. Things don’t take a turn for the serious until it’s Stacie’s turn.

“Okay, Becs, truth or dare?” Stacie asks with a sneaky smile.

Still not wanting to reveal any major truth about herself, Beca chooses ‘dare’.

“Okay. I dare you to kiss Chloe.” Stacie looks proud of herself for her dare, and Beca sets a mental reminder to punish her for this later. When Beca turns to Chloe who’s been sitting beside her the entire time, she raises her eyebrows and shrugs as if to say ‘I’m cool with this if you are.’

Beca leans in to kiss Chloe, and if it had been anyone else, it would have been a peck on the lips that she laughed about and never thought about again. But not this time. Their lips couldn’t have been in contact for more than one second, but sparks shoot through Beca’s lips like a shock of electricity. She can feel her cheeks turn red, and she’s embarrassed. She's embarrassed because everyone else in the house is staring at her and Chloe, hooping and hollering. She’s also embarrassed that that little kiss felt like no other kiss she’d ever experienced. Like electricity. Like pure energy. Like she wanted to do it again.

The game dies out after a few more rounds, and Beca is grateful for an escape. She heads to the kitchen and takes a shot of whiskey and then heads upstairs to her room with a beer. She opens her window and sits in the window sill to drink her beer, hoping that the cool air would help her cool off and the beer would help her forget. Neither is working, and with the shot of whiskey having pushed her further into tipsiness, Beca shuffles to her bed to sit down. She grabs her phone when she feels it buzz in her pocket.

Beale (12:33am): Where’d you run off to? I haven’t seen you in a while

Beca thinks about not responding, but the whiskey has other thoughts.

Beca (12:34am): jsut needed to cool off and get a break from the party. ill be down in a few

Beca hopes Chloe will forget about her and enjoy the party. She knows she can’t be around her right now. Not after one too many drinks. Not after that kiss. She won’t let herself do something stupid. Not after all this time of being careful to hide her feelings.

Beca chugs the rest of her beer and lies back onto her bed. She fishes her phone back out of her pocket and stares at the screen, her fingers moving without the consent of her brain.

Beca (12:41am): its liek even when im drunk i cant stop thinking about you

Beca has flashes of clarity, and she tells herself to stop, wills her fingers to halt, but ‘Drunk Beca’ takes over and sends the text anyway. Chloe responds surprisingly fast.

Beale (12:41am): I can't stop thinking about the kiss

‘Drunk Beca’ has a mind of her own, and no matter how hard and for how long Beca has tried to keep her feelings at bay, nothing seems to matter in this moment. The alcohol gives her enough confidence to send the riskiest text she’s ever sent, one that could reshape her relationship with her best friend in one of two ways: the way that Beca might actually possibly have wanted it to be all this time, the way that would fulfill those little thoughts and fantasies that she’s never let herself admit that she’s had about Chloe since that day at the activities fair, or the way that ends their friendship. The way that turns everything she’s ever had with her best friend upside down and sends their friendship to a screeching halt. But she doesn’t have the clarity to weigh the options, typing the text and sending it without hesitation.

Beca (12:42am): what if I found you and kissed ypu for real this time?

Beca gets up from her bed and heads toward her door, not waiting for Chloe’s response. She’s not drunk enough to not be scared of things going south after Chloe sees the text, so her first instinct is to flee the scene, but her brain stops when she opens the door.

As she flings the door open, she sees Chloe standing on the other side. Chloe rushes into the room, pushing the door closed with her foot as she grabs both sides of Beca’s face with her hands, their lips being drawn together like magnets. Their lips touch, and the electricity is back, shooting through Beca like lightning in a thunderstorm, starting at her lips and streaking its way through her body to the tips of her toes. They fall back onto the bed, their lips never losing contact. When they both need a break, their chests heaving from lack of oxygen, they lay there together. Not talking, not needing an explanation just yet. Just happy. They both drift off to sleep accidentally, and when Beca wakes up the next morning, she’s not scared. For the first time in what feels like forever, she feels lighter. Free. She looks over and sees Chloe still sleeping beside her and thinks maybe, just maybe, she could get used to this.

[lyndsaybones]

In Dreams 13

Chapter 1...Chapter 2…Chapter 3…Chapter 4…Chapter 5 …Chapter 6…Chapter 7…Chapter 8 …Chapter 9...Chapter10… Chapter 11...Chapter 12

The afternoon sun is warm on his face and the wet sand under his bare feet yields in a way that is very satisfying. She’s ahead of him, maybe by twenty feet, palming the top of a floppy straw hat so the ocean breeze doesn’t carry it away. He feels like he probably already chased it down once or twice. She’s got a thin piece of blue fabric tied around her waist in a makeshift skirt and a white bathing suit on. Her pale Irish skin has turned warm and new freckles dapple her shoulders and back.

A little warm hand squeezes his and jerks his arm. He looks down to find a little girl, no more than four-years-old, with shoulder length strawberry blonde locks, wispy and curly at the ends, like baby hair. She is hopping on one foot, and with great determination, her mouth set in a concentrated line. He loves her so much it makes his chest hurt.

“Whatcha doin’, Munchkin?” he asks.

“Making it look like I only have one foot,” she says, making another hop.

He looks back at their prints in the sand and sees that yes, it looks like she only has one foot.

“Or,” he says as he scoops her up and drops her onto his shoulders, her little legs bracketing his neck, “we can make it look like you spontaneously levitated!”

She shrieks with delight and pats his cheeks.

“Mama! “ she shouts with a giggle. “I lebitated!”

Scully turns around. Scully, not Dana, he reminds himself. She laughs, a delighted, surprised laugh and watches them as they catch up to her. He’s suddenly much faster without Gracie’s one-footed progression.

Gracie? He wonders to himself. Grace was my grandmother’s name.

He opens his eyes and is ready to squint against the sunshine. But it is dark, and instead, he is squinting to make out her sleeping form across from him. She’s on her side, back to him and snoring softly. His face still feels warm though. Maybe for other reasons.

When she said “stay awhile,” he thought maybe until she fell asleep. Or until the bleeding had stopped. Or perhaps until the next morning. But weeks later, he’s still climbing into bed with her every night, thankfully free of the hindrance of his casts. She was starting to get irritated with them snagging her something-thousand thread count sheets anyway.

Whether it’s because she’s come into the second trimester or the latest combination of meds, she seems to be feeling well enough to get irritated about things like that. That’s not to say every meal sticks. It doesn’t. But she’s able to keep down more than she has in the past several weeks and has even started gaining back a little of the weight she’s lost.

He reaches out and lays his hand in the curve where her waist meets her hip. She stirs, just a little, and settles in one breath.

They’ve abstained from anything besides sleeping, not because of any doctor’s restrictions, but because he doesn’t even know where to begin. He doesn’t really remember a time when they were together in that way, not clearly. But the fact that she can no longer button her trousers is evidence that they clearly were, at least once anyway.

But he is remembering, more and more everyday and it has nothing to do with the “gift” from Diana. It’s coming back to him in his sleep. He thinks so anyway, he seems to see things a little more clearly at the beginning of each day. But he often finds himself checking with her to define what was real and what was a dream. Because some of it doesn’t seem possible, even to him. Since neither of them has been cleared to return to work, they have more than enough time to talk.

“Your hair was longer when we met,” he muses as he watches her set a mug of tea on the table. She is wrapped in her white terrycloth robe, one bare foot tucked under her thigh. She smiles and nods.

“It was,” she affirms. “I cut it right after our first case together.”

“I saw you in your underwear on that case...real or dream?” he asks playfully.

She chuckles and blows on her mug. A quick blush dances across her cheeks and she nods, eyes closed, chin tucked to her chest.

“Real,” she says, her embarrassment evident.

“I didn’t think any less of you,” he says. He wants to reach out and tip her chin up so she’ll look at him. It’s one of those moments that they’ve been dancing around rather inelegantly lately. Whether because of his bad timing or her circumspect nature, the connection, or rather re-connection keeps getting missed. This time he’ll blame her ringing phone.

“Scully,” she answers with an air of authority he hasn’t heard from her in a while. She stands and begins to wander around the kitchen. A long pause, a knitted brow, a nibbled lower lip. “Uh-huh...interesting,” she says. “Okay, thanks.”

“What’s interesting?” he asks.

“The lab at Quantico finally finished the analysis of those pills,” she says, leaning on the edge of the counter.

“And?”

“Well, it’s similar to melatonin, but it also seems to have some additional synthetic chemicals that they haven’t been able to nail down.”

“They’ve had almost three weeks. Is it that hard?”

“Well, there’s always a backlog and it’s not like this is attached to a case. I called in a favor with Steve.”

“Steve?” he asks, a playful little accusation in his tone.

“Yeah,” she says. She’s clearly retreated into her own head and is chewing on whatever she’s just been told.

“Melatonin is like an over the counter sleep aid, right?”

“Yeah,” she confirms.

“It keeps coming back to sleeping pills, doesn’t it?” he asks as he crosses his arms.

“I wonder if the idea is to somehow ramp up your REM sleep.” She’s not even talking to him really. Just thinking out loud.

“To what end?”

She seems to come back to having the conversation with him rather than inside her own head.

“Who knows, Mulder?”

“Someone knows.”

OFFICE OF THE LONE GUNMEN

“Office” is a generous word for their location. It’s more like a den or a nest, feathered with wiring and surreptitiously gathered bits of technology. It is all haphazardly compiled, unidentifiable things scattered on industrial metal shelves. The only orderly portion is the corner the that houses the printing press and TLG archives. It is clearly Byers’ dominion.

There is a parcel of bedrooms at the back of the space where each of them have carved out their own oasis. It’s like a fraternity where no one ever graduates, Mulder muses.

“Who gave you this?” Byers asks as he looks at the computer screen with wonder. The blue light reflects off of Frohike’s glasses as he leans in to get a better look.

“Diana,” he says flatly.

“Mata Hari,” Frohike grimaces.

“She said it would help me get my memory back,” he says as he crosses his arms and leans against one of the long tables.

Byers jerks away from the screen incredulously and the motley crew pass each other wary glances.

“What is it, fellas?” Mulder asks.

“Are you familiar with Project Mnemosyne?” Byers asks.

“No, but I’m guessing I’m about to be,” he says with trepidation.

“There was a lot of work put into an effort to create perfect human memory storage by the DOD starting just after the Bay of Pigs,” Langly begins to explain.

“For what?”

“Next level spying, eliminating the need for photographs, cyphers,” Byers says.

“They were trying to create human cameras and find a way to download the data,” Frohike adds.

“But this started in the sixties, so the drugs were more advanced than the computers,” Byers continues.

“Some freaky shit came outta MK Ultra,” Langly says, continuing their round robin explanation.

“And it got rolled right into Mnemosyne,” Frohike punctuates by pointing at the screen.

“You’re saying this stuff is the real deal?” he says, eyes wide.

“It sure looks like it,” Byers answers.

“I could really get back my memories?” he asks the trio.

“Not just your recent memories, Mulder, everything,” Langly says, a warning in his voice.

“Including the things you’d like to forget,” Frohike adds. “Buried trauma, every mistake, every nightmare, all at the front of your mind and all at once.”

“Everything we got out of the declassified portions of the project files indicates that test subjects had an incredibly high mortality rate,” Byers says.

“Due to what?” Mulder asks.

“Suicide,” Frohike says grimly. “Diana is setting you up.”

“There are some things you don’t want to remember,” Byers punctuates.

GEORGETOWN

WASHINGTON, DC

If she is forced to feign another moment’s interest in her mother’s prattling, she may pass out. What started as an effort to purchase a few items of maternity clothing, became a day lost in the labyrinth of the local mall. Now, back at home, Maggie Scully is measuring the windows in her spare room for the curtains she plans on sewing.

“With the light in here, it may be better to go with a darker color,” she says as she teeters on a chair, arms stretched from end to end at the top of the window.

She leans on the door jamb and stifles a yawn with the back of her hand.

“Don’t you think, Dana?” she asks.

Of course, she hasn’t been paying attention, all she can think about is crawling into bed and waiting for Mulder to get back.

“Uh, yeah,” she fakes.

Maggie looks down from her perch and seems to deflate a little.

“Oh honey,” she sighs as she climbs down. “You look just exhausted.”

“I’m okay,” she says, keeping her voice light. She’s always been a terrible liar.

“I guess I just got carried away,” she says as she wraps her in a hug. “It seems like things have just now settled down a bit for you.”

“It’s okay, mom,” she assures her.

“Hello?” a voice calls as the front door opens.

Maggie kisses her cheek and smiles knowingly. “I’ll head home and let you get some rest,” she says, squeezing her shoulders.

Scully nods and closes her eyes a moment. God, it feels good. The burn of exhaustion blazes against her eyelids. It’s such a satisfying burn though. She could drift to sleep right there. She used to be able to run the obstacle course in the morning and go on to work a full day, maybe even burn a little midnight oil on her latest journal article or some such. Now, a half day shopping has her ready to call it a night at 4:30 in the afternoon.

The quiet exchange between Mulder and her mother registers and she drags her eyes back open.

“She needs to go lay down, Fox,” Maggie reports.

“It won’t be hard to convince her,” he says.

The front door closes with a snick and his hand are on her shoulders, kneading gently at her sore muscles.

“Wow,” he says.

“Hm?”

“You two cleaned a couple places out, huh?”

The spare room has no less than ten shopping bags scattered on the bed.

“Mom calls it retail therapy,” she says with a little smile.  

“Better than Prozac, I hear,” he says, guiding her into the hall and towards the bedroom. “Why don’t you go lay down and I’ll order some dinner?”

“I may not make it to dinner,” she says, let him move her about like a Thanksgiving day balloon.

“Gotta try to eat,” he says, stopping in the doorway and watching her as she shuffles to the bed.

She nods, too tired to argue.

“Oh,” she says as she sits down. “I almost forgot. What did the guys say?” she asks.

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and his hands flit about trying to find a place to land. He’s tap dancing before he even opens his mouth, she can tell.

“Nothing important,” he says crossing his arms.

“What did they think of the results we got from the lab?”

“They really didn’t know what to make of them. It wasn’t anything they’ve seen before.”

She slips out of her shoes and curls into a question mark on the bed.

“Hm,” she sighs to herself.

“Italian or thai?” he asks, quickly changing the subject.

“Surprise me,” she murmurs, sleep already dragging her under.

As he fiddles with the pill bottle in his pocket, he inwardly kicks himself, he should’ve told her the truth, he knows. It’s likely she knows he was lying. More than likely.

The “what if” of it all is nagging at him, like a forgotten shirt pin. Unlocking not just his forgotten recent memories, but the deeper ones, the ones with long black braids and big blue eyes, it is a deeply alluring notion. He glances back at her, already asleep, her features slack and relaxed. He chews his lip and pulls the bottle from his pocket, thinking it may be full of answers rather than questions.

Gracie is hard at work digging a very deep hole. Her little yellow shovel is flings wads of wet sand over her shoulder in a predictable repetition. He chuckles at her determination. She makes the same face Scully does when she’s concentrating. The setting sun is in her curls and catches the hints of red in her hair. Scully is next to him, sitting cross-legged and reading a book. Her hair, longer like it was when they met, ruffles against her shoulder blades in the light breeze.

“Mulder,” she whispers, not looking up from her book.

“What?” he answers, seeing the sun in her eyelashes.

She reaches out and rests her hand is on his hip, smiling, that sweet satisfied smile of hers that he still doesn’t see enough of.

“Mulder,” she whispers again, patting his hip gently.

He opens his eyes and finds her shadowed face in front of him. No sunkissed cheeks or fresh freckles.

“Hmm, yeah,” he mumbles, getting his wits about him.

Her warm little fingers wrap around his wrist and pull his hand to the firm mound of her belly, pressing his palm against it.

“Feel,” she whispers, a giggle in her voice.

He concentrates on the sensation of her soft skin under his hand when he feels movement, as subtle and gentle as a hummingbird fluttering about.

“Hey Munchkin,” he says softly. “Whatcha doin’?”