#eight nights of mulder were so much fun

[baronessblixen]

Look For The Light

My prompts: Eight Nights of Mulder, day 8 (last day!) - lights X-Mas Files Challenge - Scully loves presents

Summary: It's William's first night at home and Mulder reflects how lucky he is. (fluffy fluff; wc: 851)

Tagging @today-in-fic @eightnightsofmulder

There is so much he wants to say. So much he thinks he should explain. There’s so much, and yet, he can’t stop staring at this tiny human being in his arms, a miracle from head to his ten toes. William is sleeping, his breathing going fast as if trying to catch up with the world now that he’s seeing it from the outside.

“How do you like it out here, hm?” Mulder asks, gently swaying. Time has lost all meaning to him. It might be late at night, or early morning. It doesn’t matter. In the bedroom, Scully is asleep, needing every second of shuteye she can get. He’s here for all these moments. That’s something that a few months ago seemed impossible.

“There’s nothing that’s impossible when it comes to us Mulders, right? Well, you’re half a Mulder and half a Scully. Makes you twice as awesome.” Mulder has been amazed by Scully ever since he’s known her, but now, she’s a certified hero in his eyes.

“Your mom is the most amazing person in the world. You probably know that already.” The child’s eyes remain closed, and his body slack. “Already not listening. Yeah, you’re my son.” He chuckles softly, just watching. This tiny nose that Mulder hopes will take on Scully’s shape as it grows. The tuft of reddish hair on his small head that’s softer than anything Mulder has ever touched. He has never felt so whole, or so much at home with himself, and in the world. He didn’t think he’d get here. Decades of running after the truth, of following every light in the sky, and this time, the light led him here. To William, and to Scully.

He tried explaining it to Scully earlier, with their son between them. The light. How all he did was follow it. But she was just smiling, probably not listening at all, and then, a moment later, she was asleep, looking so much like William. Mulder picked him up, hoping he’d, too, sleep a while. So far, he’s in luck. That same luck that has been following him ever since he set out to find Scully.

The light that led him. He looks at William and he feels it. It’s there. It’s a warmth, a bond. Love. If Scully were awake, if he said this to her, he knows she would roll her eyes at him. He’ll stick to his story. There was a light and he followed it. That, to him, is William. He has brought light into his and Scully’s life, leading them onward from now on. His son chooses that moment to open his eyes. They’re still unfocused, lost in this big, big world, but Mulder can’t help but smile.

“Knew I was thinking about you, hm? You’re clever like that. We should wake your mom.” He will never tire of this. Scully is a mom and he’s a dad. The product of their love is in his arms, just waking up, just getting to know the world around him.

“You know what? We should think of a gift for your mom. I’m gonna tell you a secret, Will.” The baby shuffles in his arms, his eyes closing again. “Your mom loves presents. Oh, she pretends she doesn’t, but she loves them.”

“Are you talking about me?” There she is, his Scully. She’s leaning against the door frame, looking utterly exhausted and happier than he’s ever seen her.

“Just explaining some things to our son. I can’t stop looking at him.”

“He really is cute,” Scully agrees, joining Mulder and leaning against him now.

“Hey, why are you up? You should be sitting down. Come on.” Together they make their way back to the bedroom. “How much did you hear?”

“Just you saying I love presents. And Mulder, who doesn’t love presents?”

“Knew it,” he whispers to a fussy William before he kisses his downy head and hands him to Scully, who expertly nurses William. She leans against the headboard, her head tilted toward Mulder.

“Hey you,” he says, grinning. “I meant what I said when you were eavesdropping.”

“Wasn’t eavesdropping,” she says, smiling.

“You just tell yourself that.” He kisses her hair, her temple.

“You already gave me a gift, Mulder.”

“Courage, yeah. You said that.”

“That and Samantha’s doll. You came back to me. Because of you, there’s William. I already have everything I could possibly want.” Tears roll down her face and he realizes he’s crying too. “All I want is more moments like these.”

“You can’t get rid of me. You'll have to share these moments with me. Unless… do you think we can find space for my fish tank here?”

“I think we can arrange that.”

“Then that’s settled.” He leans his head against hers, watching as their son nurses happily, half falling asleep. Like his mother. They will have a million more moments like these - he'll make sure of it. Every single one will feel special. Next year, and every year after this, Mulder will tell William about the night he was born, and the light he followed.

[numinousmysteries]

All the Seeds

@eightnightsofmulder

@today-in-fic

Eight Nights of Mulder Day Six: Dreidel [on Ao3]

December 1998

He almost kissed me in his hallway. He lets her call him Fox. He loves me. He loves me not.  He came all the way to Antarctica to save my life. He ditched me with Gibson Praise to drive off with her in Phoenix.  He loves me. He loves me not.  He said he loved me when he was high on painkillers. He probably told her that countless times while sober. He loves me. He loves me not. 

Being off the X-Files is bad for us. Running background checks on fertilizer purchases uses up  too small a fraction of my brain power and frees up too much of my energy to think about other things…like what the fuck is going on in my partner’s head. He’s moody and more impatient than normal. His behavior borders on flirtatious at times but if I play along, he recoils.

When we worked on the X-Files together, Mulder and I were in sync. We rarely shared an opinion, but we had our routine well-established: Theory, countertheory, hunches, wild goose chases, and typically ending up just as clueless as when we started. It was a well-choreographed dance. We could do all the steps with our eyes closed.

Now, we’re stomping all over each other’s toes. Our rhythm is off. Sometimes it seems like we’re having two different conversations at the same time.

I don’t want to say it’s all Diana Fowley’s fault, but she sure as fuck isn’t helping. She tends to always have an excuse to call him down to the basement with a question about a case. She inevitably makes her way up to the bullpen around lunchtime to see if he wants to get something to eat. Mulder usually asks if I’d like to join, but I know it’s an empty invitation. 

I’m not proud of it, but I do have a jealous streak. It isn’t even always romantic, either. I remember competing with my siblings for my father’s attention, and burning with anger if he seemed more impressed with one of them at any given moment. It was the same in school, from the time I was a child all the way through Quantico. I had such a desire to please my teachers and needed to be the favorite in every class. 

Needless to say, being the subject of Mulder’s undivided attention—with the exception of the weekly cryptid or the occasional busty entomologist—for nearly six years felt good. Having to share him with Diana Fowley does not. 

I know they have history. And I know she’s attractive. But it’s not even that. It’s the effect she has on him. The way he’ll believe anything she says without a scrap of evidence. The way she makes me feel like a nagging shrew. The way she gets to call him Fox. 

He’s coming back from lunch now, striding across the bullpen towards me, and, is he…whistling? I sincerely hope all he had to eat was a sandwich. 

“Hey, Scully,” he says, smiling. “It’s unseasonably warm out. What do you say we get out of here for a bit?”

“You’ve been gone for nearly an hour. Weren’t you at lunch with Agent Fowley?” I ask.

“Nah,” he says. “She got an urgent phone call before we made it out of the building, so I just went back to my apartment to pick up this book on cryptozoology that’s been on my mind.”

I notice he’s empty-handed. “But you didn’t find it?”

Mulder shakes his head. “I think it might still be in our old office. But I found something else.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small wooden top.

“A dreidel?”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “This was mine when I was a kid. Ended up in the back of my bookcase somehow. Come on, I’ll teach you how to play. ‘Tis the season, after all, and I promise it’ll be more fun than running another background check. Although that isn’t saying much.” 

I could use a break. This work is mind-numbingly dull and playing hooky for an afternoon with Mulder sounds much more intriguing. I return his smile and shrug on my coat. 

As I’m following him through the bullpen, he calls out to me, a little too loudly, “I hope we’re not stuck on this stakeout the rest of the day, but knowing our perp I wouldn’t bet on making it back before sunset.” 

“That’s too bad, Agent Mulder,” I reply, matching his volume and trying not to grin. “I was hoping to get ahead on all this paperwork.” 

The elevator down to the lobby is crowded but he gives me a conspiratorial wink and I feel myself blushing. I’m pressed up close to him and can smell his musk and aftershave. We both can’t help but laugh once the lobby’s revolving door propels us onto the sidewalk. He’s right. It’s warm out for December and in the sun I barely need my coat. 

We wander until we’re a safe distance from getting spotted and find ourselves a bench near the reflecting pool. Thanks to the temperate weather, the Mall is busy and we can easily blend in with the crowd of tourists and office workers.

“Ever played dreidel before, Scully?” he asks.

“I can’t say I have.” 

“It’s easy.” He holds the top out to me in his palm.

“This is nun,” he explains, pointing to the side of the dreidel embossed with a character that looks like a backward letter C. “If your spin lands on nun, you do nothing, which is easy to remember. But nun looks deceptively similar to gimel”—he turns the top to a side with a nearly identical symbol, but this one has a little leg sticking out of the bottom, “and if you land on gimel, you get the whole pot.”

“What’s in our pot, Mulder?” I ask. 

“Sam and I used to play with gelt but since we don’t have any, we can use these instead,” he says, pulling a bag of sunflower seeds out of his jacket pocket. 

“If you land on shin,” he says, showing me a character that looks like a W, “you have to add a coin, or a seed in our case, to the pot. That leaves hey”—now he shows me the final side of the dreidel— “and that means you take half the pot.”

“I think I got it,” I say.

He starts divvying up a pile of seeds between the two of us. He brings one to his mouth, cracks open the shell with his teeth, and eats it. I’ve seen him do the same motion hundreds of times and it always makes me wonder what else his nimble mouth is capable of. I’m sure Diana has intimate knowledge of that. 

“For good luck,” he says. 

“Sure, Fox,” I say teasingly. 

He cringes.

“Sorry,” I say, my eyes drifting to my pile of sunflower seeds. “That’s what Diana calls you.” 

“Yes, and I hate it,” he says. “I’ve asked her not to, but it’s not a battle worth fighting. I think she does it just to irritate me.” 

“I know you two were,” I pause. “Together.”

Why am I prying? He knows that I know. I know he’ll never say anything outwardly negative about her as much as I wish that he would. And I don’t want him to think that I’m fishing. But I can’t resist. 

“A long time ago,” he says quietly.  

“It must be nice to have her back, though” I say. “An old friend.”

He shrugs and plucks one seed from each of our piles to start the pot. 

“You go first,” he says, handing me the dreidel. 

I give it a flick with my fingers but my spin is too enthusiastic and the dreidel ends up falling off the bench.

“Easy there, tiger,” Mulder says with a laugh, leaning over to pick it up off the ground. 

I try again more gently, and land on hey. “Nice, Scully,” he says, as I take one seed back from the pot. 

We go back and forth like this for a while, our respective sunflower seed piles growing and shrinking. 

“I never did this with Diana,” he says absentmindedly as he adds to the pot after landing on shin. 

“You don’t need to tell me that, Mulder,” I say softly, once again avoiding his eyes. 

“It’s true,” he says, bringing his fingertips to my chin, encouraging me to look up and face him. “I’m not going to lie to you. We were very close for a while and, at the time, I would’ve said she was the love of my life—”

I flinch and hope he doesn’t notice. 

“—but that was before I met you.” 

“Oh, please, Mulder,” I say, leaning back and away from him. “You were in a relationship with her. You lived together. You were…intimate. I’m just your partner.”

“I hope you don’t believe that, Scully,” he says sternly, and I realize he’s serious. “I thought I loved Diana because she was the first person to accept me for who I am, but it didn’t take long to realize that she didn’t really see me. She saw a version of me that she felt she could mold into someone she’d want to be with. When I didn’t want to go along with that, she picked up and left. But you see me, Scully. You really see me for who I am and you haven’t run away yet.”

He reaches across our sunflower seed piles to hold my hand. His touch is gentle yet firm, as if to reassure me. My lips are trembling and I feel tears welling up in my eyes. I’m scared to speak, not knowing what sounds will come out. 

“And I see you,” he continues. “You’re so fucking loyal and honest and you fight for what you believe in. You’re principled and kind and even though you challenge me every day, there’s no one else I’d rather argue with. You give my life meaning.”

He squeezes my hand tighter. I try to hold back my tears but it’s no use. I blink and they’re streaming warm down my face. My heart and my mind are racing. Passersby are milling all around us but we’re frozen like statues. 

“Mulder,” I gasp. “I don’t know what to say.” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he says, smiling as he passes me the dreidel. “Just spin.”

Catching my breath, I give the dreidel one last spin on the bench. 

“Gimel!” he shouts excitedly. “You get all the seeds, Scully. And all of me. Don’t forget that.” 

“Too bad I don’t like sunflower seeds,” I say, smiling at him shyly. 

“Well, I can take those off your hands,” he says, sweeping all three piles of seeds back towards him. “But you are stuck with me, unfortunately.”

We lock eyes. “I can live with that,” I say. 

He returns the seeds to the plastic bag and tucks it back into his jacket pocket. As we walk back to the Hoover building, he drapes his arm around me. For the first time in months, we’re back in sync. 

I think he just might love me.

[honeypirate]

Going Home

Jet-Black Hero: Tsukuyomi / Tokoyami Fumikage x Fem!Reader - Pro Hero AU (in their 20s)

Tokoyami had it bad. He had it so bad he had to bribe dark shadow to keep his mouth shut about it when you would call him. Sure he’s older than he was in high school and has more control over his quirk partner- he could force him to keep his mouth shut, but it feels wrong to force him to do anything when he’s a friend

You met Tokoyami in high school, becoming instant friends and bonding over darkness and crime shows. You even went as scully and mulder one Halloween together. But then you moved to a different country before senior year and he hasn’t been able to physically see you since.

You kept in contact religiously. He was your best friend and you told him you’d die if he doesn’t remain that way. You talk every day whenever you have free time and FaceTime every Monday and Wednesday alternating evenings and mornings for each other whenever hero work allows.

You have a separate conversation going on Snapchat, Instagram, and texts that you both stay on top of. Your Snapchat streak said 1174 and you’d be damned if it ever broke before you got to see him again. And yes, somewhere along the lines, you fell for him, but you’d never tell him. You’d never ruin your friendship like that.

“Remember to pick her up at noon” Dark Shadow said into his mind and he rolled his eyes, like he would ever forget the date and time his best friend would be in his life again. The second his agency was confirmed he extended a contract toward you, a popular new hero who was looking for an agency. A six month contract with abilities to extend should it feel like a good fit.

“Seriously? Not just because I’m your friend? You honest to god think our quirks would work well if I’m your side kick? On the bracelet?” He nods into the phone camera and then looks down at the purple adjustable bracelet you had gotten for him on your last arcade adventure before you moved, a matching black one on your wrist.

“I swear on the bracelet” he said, heart skipping. Yes he knew your quirks would work well together that was true. But he also knew that he was dying to see to again and when you said you only needed a good enough opportunity to move back, he saw a perfect opportunity that fate had handed you both.

Your black bracelet was faded to grey over the years of never taking it off but your heart beat raced in your chest. “Okay” you say with a smile and warm cheeks “I’ll have my agent look over the contract and I’ll give it a serious thought career wise.” Your eyes sparkled and he hoped your agent liked the proposal. His heart racing as you smiled at him like that. God he loved your smile.

“I like it. It would be good for your hero image if you had hero work in other countries as well. Young hero going back home. We can make a good story out of it how you were home sick. It’s also good that it’s with your best friend.” You checked out after she said she liked it. You were going home. You were going home.

You called Tokoyami right away and he answered on almost the last ring. “I’m sorry I just needed to talk to you” you said and took a deep breath as he work up “no it’s fine. It’s always fine when it’s you” his voice was tired and thick and you could only imagine how it would be in person.

“I have some news” you said with a smile and he perked up, sitting up in bed and against his headboard as he looked out his window at the night sky “what is it?” He asks, trying not to feel too excited as the phone presses hard against his ear.

“Guess” you said with a teasing tone and he knew immediately

“Really?” He asks, not being able to hide the excitement in his tone as his empty fist shoots up in celebration

“She said she liked it. It’ll be good for my image” you said with a grin, holding the phone in the crook of your neck as you play with the bracelet you’ve never taken off.

“When?” He asks eagerly

“You should know when Fumi, you made the contract” you joke and he chuckles

“no I know when your first day will be but when are you coming here?” He needs to know how much longer. How much more time will be spent away from you

“A week”

he laughs once out of shock and joy “a week?” He asks and you laugh, joy lacing every part of your voice

“my agent got me a flight and an apartment. The building I asked for already had one open and it was easy peasy. It’ll be furnished for me so I’ll be there next Wednesday at noon. Then I’ll have three weeks there before I start work. With you”

He couldn’t believe it. It went so fast he feels like his heart is spasming. Eight years away from you and only one week to go. “I’ll pick you up text me your itinerary”

“Okay” you say with a laugh and then smirk as you say “you’re not gonna ask where I’m gonna be living?”

“Where?”

“#407” you say and it takes him a moment but he gets there

“You mean six doors down?” He asks and you laugh

“Yeah I hope you don’t mind. I just thought it would be fun” you feel nervous like he’s not gonna like it, your palms sweat

“That’s amazing I’m so happy” he says and you grin “really? You don’t mind I’m living in your building?”

“Why would I mind? The best person in my life is going to be my neighbor. I can’t wait”

You hear his alarm go off and gasp “I’m sorry Fumi I didn’t mean to ruin your sleep”

He laughs “you didn’t. Trust me. But I do have to go to work. To get things set for you to be here.”

“Okay. I’ll text you. Be safe today Fumi”

—

His hands feel sweaty as he stands at the gates. Jesus. Was this even a good idea? Fuck he was so nervous. Your plan had landed he was just waiting for the doors to open. When the fight attendants opened the door he felt dark shadow getting nervous as well.

But then he saw you, a hat on your head and sunglasses on to try and stay inconspicuous in American airports but since you were here now you took them off and ran your hand through your hair before scanning the room.

Fuck you were so beautiful his mouth was dry. You were so cute in pictures and face time but it had nothing on you in person. You were an angel. This was a bad idea he was too in love to do this.

Your eyes meet his and you smile wide, your hat and glasses in one hand and a water bottle in the other as you start making your way to each other. You started off walking and weaving around the slow walkers but once you had space you couldn’t stop increasing your speed before you were running for him, your water bottle clanging to the ground as you dropped everything and threw off your backpack to slam into his strong arms, laughing as tears fall into his neck as you bury your face into him.

“Hey Fumi” you whispered and held you tighter. You smelled amazing. Like fresh air and rosemary. He couldn’t get enough. He held you tight to his chest and realized you felt smaller in his arms but then he realized when you left he was 5’5 and tiny. He’s grown a lot since then and even though you have changed too, he’s still a much larger man than he was before.

He dwarfed you. You never thought it was even possible. He held you completely and you never wanted him to let go. “Fumikage” you say as you pull back, making sure he keeps his arms around your waist. You reach up and run your hand down his long feathers down the back of his head “you’re much larger in person holy crap. and your feathers are so beautiful!!! Fumi!!. I forgot the beautiful shades in the darkness of the black. How are you still single Fumi you must be dripping with fans” You joked but your heart hurt saying it. You wanted to hear him say he wasn’t dating. That he has feelings for you.

He looks down at you and feels pride swell in his heart as you praise him, controlling the urge to fluff out his feathers when you call them beautiful.

“No one wants to date a fan” he says shutting down your investigative prodding at his love life, but then says “You’re one to talk you’ve changed so much but I didn’t even know it was possible to be this gorgeous. Don’t think I didn’t read about America’s most eligible bachelorette.”

Your cheeks flush with heat and you hide your face in his neck “oh hush Fumi. Always flustering me. Like you haven’t FaceTimed me every week. And that article was a joke” he sighs softly and you can see emotions swirling in his eyes.

“It’s different in person” he says and you sigh as you gaze up at him with a smile “it certainly is”

Once dark shadow decided to ruin the moment you remembered you were still in the airport. Fumi carried your big suitcase like it wasn’t a hundred pounds and before you could object dark shadow had your backpack across his back. Dark Shadow just laughed when you stuck your tongue out at him. “we’ve really missed you” he said when he handed you your water, your glasses and hat already on his body

—

You fall back into an easy rhythm with Fumikage, teasing and playing while talking in his car back to the apartment. After laughing so hard and catching your breath, you look over at his profile and your heart skips. The sun is hitting his feathers, his black button up shirt that was unbuttoned at the neck pulled at his biceps as his right hand rests against the shifter and his left hand was on the steering wheel. God you didn’t know if this was a good idea. You thought you were going back to your childhood home but being with Fumikage nothing has felt more like home than this.

“The boxes you sent over should be here in the next few days. If you need anything or don’t have something you can always come over, I have a spare key for emergencies” he’s going over a few things that it seems like he’s really thought about before you came. He was prepared and it warmed your heart. You smiled up at him as the elevator dinged for the fourth floor and he looked down at you eyes widening as he catches you staring. you smile and reach out, taking a gentle hold on his free hand near you and give it a soft squeeze. “Thank you Fumi. You think of everything. I’ve really missed that”

He doesn’t let go of your hand until he has to unlock his front door, you’d be staying the night with him and your agent was meeting you in the morning with the keys for your place.

his fingers tingle to grab for your hand again but he doesnt

“You can have my room, I’ll take the couch in my office. It’s a pull out.” You smile from your place standing on the landing just inside the door, watching as he disappears with your luggage down a hallway then comes back walking a little slower and playing with his hands like he does when he’s nervous.

The edge of the landing went down a couple steps and he stopped at the bottom edge “feel free make yourself at your home” he says with a nervous chuckle and you grin, running and jumping off the landing into his arms and burying your face in his shoulder.

“Oh Fumi eight years was too long” you whispered into him and he holds you up effortlessly, his beak brushing your shoulder and he curves into you, desperate to hold you after so long “way too long” he agreed.

———

The weeks seemed to fly by, you were settled into your apartment and you just got done with your first official week at the office.

“So, Tsukuyomi, Sir” you say with a smirk and lean against his open office door “how was my first day boss?”

He crosses his arms over his wide chest and gave you his best Boss look, making your heart flutter and causing your cheeks to heat up. you chuckled and tried not to show how flustered you were when you walked farther into his office. He stood from his desk and gave you a nod with a soft chuckle “you did well. I think you’re going to love it here. Let me take you to dinner tonight to celebrate”

——

He showed up at your door at seven and your breath catches in your throat when you see him. Black straight jeans with a black button up tucked in with a red tie and black boots. He looked divine. Like a god of the underdark. His hands were fixing his tie and you stepped forward, not missing the squeak of his own breath catching in his throat at the sight of you, and fixed his tie for him.

You had on a red dress and a black jean jacket that has rolled sleeves and pair of black booties that look like you could kick someone’s ass in them. His brain immediately short wired and all he can think is how well you look together. How right. How good. Fuck this was going to be harder than he thought to just be your friend but he didn’t want to you to think he was a sleaze or make you quit his agency.

Your hands fix his tie and then rest against his chest, when you see his flustered eyes and nervous body language you chuckle and lean up, kissing his beak gently, then wiping the lipstick with your thumb “you look really handsome Fumi” you say softly and he feels a whimper catch in his throat.

your eyes turn from him up to Dark Shadow who had on a matching tie “is it too much?” He asks and you laugh “you look good in it but I do think you pull off natural look best” he nods and salutes you “message received” before taking it off and tossing it into your apartment behind you.

When you look back to Fumi he’s glaring at Dark Shadow like he was a bad child and you chuckled before boldly taking his hand, hoping you read the signs right and that he did feel the same.

“Are you ready?” You ask and he nods, his fingers tighten around your hand as he relaxes, giving you a soft squeeze before placing your hand on his bicep and holding you close as he cleared his throat “I got a reservation at this new restaurant downtown” he says as you enter the elevator and you smile up at him “anywhere with you is perfect”

Dinner went by incredibly quick, you sat in a back booth, talking and laughing the whole night. It was a new restaurant that catered to people with any kinds of quirks and had surprisingly good tofu and fish. (I mean who’s gonna get the chicken on date with a bird?)

By the end of the meal he’s grabbed your hand over the table and is running his fingers against yours softly. “Thank you for tonight Fumi, I really feel like being here was the right choice. I would have came no matter what my agent said” his eyes widened a little

“Really?” He asks and you laugh with a grin “of course! You’re special to me and I just needed a good reason to come back home” your expression was so soft he felt those three words crawl up his tongue.

His eyes look serious for a moment as he looks at the way your hands look together “y/n I need to tell you something” he says and gets extra serious

“What is it?” You ask, trying to keep your voice neutral even tho you know your face screams ‘I’m worried now’

He meets your eye for a few long seconds before he shakes his head. He couldn’t. He couldn’t ruin this close friendship when he wasnt positive his feelings would be returned. “Never mind. It’s not that important. What do you say about dessert?”

He was leaning on the table on his elbows, close enough to reach out and touch over the tiny table, and so you did. You reach up and ran your fingers lightly over the edges of his feathers with a soft smile. “Of course Fumi. But how about we go to the cookie place by the park you always talk about. I know you like it and it’s a perfect night for a walk.” He swallows hard and nods “that’s a perfect idea” he says as he signals for the waiter to pay.

You hold his hand all the way to the cookie place, talking easily and joking around, but you keep hoping for the perfect moment to confess. You had a feeling that’s what he was going to do at the restaurant, it changed your heart and convinced you to take the leap, almost positive he felt the same.

You sit on a bench in the park, one with perfect view of the city skyline, eating your cookies and dark shadow is teasing you about the time you kept stealing Tokoyami’s poptarts from the dorm kitchen. Your cheeks are hot and you’ve turned yourself towards Tokoyami, your left hand on your cheek and your face hidden in his shoulder as you laughed together, your right hand rested on his kid thigh. It felt so easy. So absolutely right.

You drop your hand from your cheek and look up at Tokoyami with a soft smile, heart racing at the emotion you find in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for stealing your poptarts” you say and his throat catches again at the way your eyes seem to shine with love for him he almost feels it’s too much but he wants to dive deeper, to drown in the love he finds.

He chuckles and cups your cheek “I never cared. I had the hugest crush on you then”

Your heart skips and your cheek heats even more under his touch “and now?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper

“Now I’m so in love I don’t know if it’s even quantifiable” he says with a hint of exasperation as he leans down and presses his forehead to yours.

Your eyes flutter closed as your heart thrums against your ribs, his confession echoing in your head as fireworks explode in your heart. You press a kiss on his beak and your heart skips when you hear a gasp catch in his throat

“I’m in love with you too, Fumi” you say and he pulls you into a hug, nuzzling his beak into your neck, wanting to get close to you to show you how much he loves you the best he can since he can’t properly kiss you.

He nips softly at your neck skin and you giggle so sweetly he feels light headed. You pull back and kiss his cheek before looking into his eyes. He cups your cheek again “that’s what I wanted to say back at the restaurant”

You chuckle and smile, taking his hand you press gentle kisses against his palm, trailing a few down to his wrist before saying with a smirk “I know”

[scullyverse]

Eight Weeks

Prompt by anon; 

“Really? You wanna have sex...Here? Now?”

I had a lot of fun writing this one, and I adore the relationship between Mulder and Scully here. This is actually the 1st part of a 2 part fic combination with another prompt. So stay tuned for part 2 in the future!

Also available to read on ao3

Scully’s sudden hormones cause some unexpected ‘activities’ to happen while they are on a stake out. Set in the time period after ‘All Things’ and before ‘Requiem’.

Mulder/Scully || Filth || 7.7k words || Rating E (Explicit for smut)

“I’m starting to think you got some false information.”

Scully sighed as she lowered the pair of binoculars from her eyes, her gaze falling to Mulder. 

“Dawson said that Harvey would be here around 10pm. It is now 1 am and he still hasn’t shown his face. We’ve been here 3 hours, Mulder. I’m tired, it’s hot and I think we both need to get some rest.” 

They had been out on this case for the last few days, jumping from lead to lead. Mulder had happily chased every dangled clue and Scully had obediently followed; mostly because she had been so exhausted lately that she really didn’t have enough energy to argue with him about how obvious it was that he was being led around in circles. 

They had both been run to exhaustion with a seemingly endless circulation of cases and paperwork and it seemed to Scully that she hadn’t slept in her own bed in weeks. She couldn’t speak for Mulder, but she knew it was certainly starting to take a toll on her; both physically and emotionally. 

The last week or so she had been feeling slightly dizzy and she had started to get nauseous; much to her embarrassment with how many times she had to ask Mulder to pull the car over so she could bring up what little amount of breakfast she had managed to keep down that morning. She was certain that it was nothing to worry about and had told Mulder that every time he asked her if she was okay. She just needed to get home and sleep in her own bed and get her body back to running on something other than pure adrenaline and coffee.

“Come on Scully, we are so close with this, I can feel it. I know you haven’t been feeling the best so why don’t you have a rest? I can wake you if anything exciting happens.” 

Scully watched him with tired eyes as Mulder lowered his own binoculars, looking across at her as she sighed and rested her head back against the seat. She had to admit it would be nice to have a little rest, even if it was only for a few minutes. 

Putting her binoculars on the dashboard, she fanned herself as she leaned over to roll her window down slightly, just enough to let some fresh air in; even if the air seemed to be just as hot outside as it was inside the car. It had now ticked over into the early hours of the morning, but the hot and humid weather seemed to stick around, the thick foliage of the forest they were staking out in not helping with the humidity. 

“I doubt anything exciting is going to happen. If he was coming, he would have shown up by now. But I think I might take you up on that offer of a rest.”

“Just don’t drool on the car seat, I would like to get my deposit back this time.”

“Shut up, Mulder.”

Scully smirked as she rolled her eyes, her head turned towards Mulder and her arms resting together in her lap. She watched as Mulder gave a smile, reaching over to brush some of her hair behind her ear before he turned his attention back out his window, bringing his binoculars back up to his eyes. Although she wasn’t usually a fan of stake outs most of the time because of how tedious they were, she liked doing them with Mulder. It was comforting to have him in the car with her. 

They had always had a connection and they had steadily grown closer over the years spent together. It wasn’t until after her battle with cancer that the feelings between them had shifted from friends to something more than that. It was then that Scully knew that Mulder held her heart in a way that no one else had or probably ever could. Things continued to grow until they reached a boiling point when they returned from Antartica, which had led her to invite him into her bed, the night filled with discovery and passionate sex. They had been in a sexual relationship since, starting as a casual occurrence to what they had now; something as close to, what normal people might consider, an intimate relationship.

That intimate relationship, though, had seemingly been put on hold these last few weeks by constant cases and a heavy workload and Scully had to admit, she missed it. Closing her eyes with a soft sigh, Scully snuggled down further into the car seat, trying to get as comfortable as she could in this position and not think of the way she missed Mulder’s weight on top of her and his lips on hers. 

She told herself she would only rest her eyes, but it didn’t take long for her head to loll to the side, her lips parting as the soft hum of the car radio began to fade as she slipped into sleep.

All she could feel was him. 

His heavy weight on her as he rested between her parted legs, her ankles clasped around his body, pulling his hips closer with every thrust. 

The scent of sweat and arousal clung to the air as she gripped his shoulder blades, nails digging into his flesh. She could feel herself getting closer, spurred on by the increased breathing against her neck, the way he groaned just that little bit louder. 

The only sounds in the room were the squeaking of the bed and the slick, wet sounds of their bodies joining together between her legs. Her name purred off his lips as he picked up his pace, his hand slipping between her body and the mattress to angle her hips up closer to him. 

She could feel herself slipping over that delicious edge and with just a little more-

Scully jolted awake, her eyes opening suddenly as she sat up from her slumped position. Sighing, her hand reached up to wipe her forehead, a light sheen of sweat present there now, and she was sure it wasn’t just from the humid weather. The dream had felt so real. Her dreams had never been this intense before but she had noticed that her dreams seemingly had become more vivid recently. Maybe it had something to do with their hectic schedules of late and her inability to wind down, or maybe it was because she just found herself missing sex. Or more accurately, missing sex with Mulder. 

Scully had always considered herself a sexual person, enjoying it as much as the next person, but with Mulder it was as if she craved it, especially recently, and he was more than happy to oblige, being just as eager to have her as she seemed to need him. 

Looking over at the car clock she noticed only a mere 20 minutes had passed and Mulder’s gaze was still fixated to wherever he assumed the suspect would magically appear. Biting her lower lip, Scully rested her head back against the seat, a heat now coursing through her veins as the visions of her dream flashed behind her eyes and she just couldn’t seem to shake them away. 

Tilting her head, she watched as Mulder lowered his binoculars and placed them in his lap, his fingers fiddling with a sunflower seed before he put it in his mouth. Scully became captivated with how his teeth held the seed between them, how his lips and tongue moved together to crack the shell before swallowing the treat inside. 

Scully knew what wonderful things that mouth could do and all of a sudden she felt a hunger to have him like she hadn’t felt since their first night together, settling deep in her belly and pooling between her legs.

She couldn’t quite place it, but the urge was suddenly so strong and she found herself struggling to push it down. It was like her body was screaming at her to have him and have him now. Shaking her head slightly, Scully tried to ignore it and remind herself that they were on the clock working. That no matter what, she wouldn’t let her own personal feelings interfere with their ability to perform their jobs. They had both come to an understanding that their new sexual relationship wouldn’t get in the way of their working relationship. And that meant that they wouldn’t let themselves succumb to their desires while working, whether in their basement office or out in the field. 

She managed to quell the feelings for a few minutes, just watching him continue to nibble on a small handful of sunflower seeds, before the thrumming between her legs and the fire in her stomach became too much for her to ignore. Fuck the rules.

Chewing on her bottom lip, Scully looked around, taking in the surrounding environment before she gave herself a mental green light. There was no one around and they were in the middle of nowhere, the chance of them getting interrupted was extremely slim which caused a pang of arousal to hit her centre, causing her to clench her thighs together.

Flicking off her heels in silence, Scully was glad that she had chosen to forgo wearing her usual stockings under her skirt today because of the heat. It would make this a whole lot easier. Opening her door, Scully gracefully got out of the car, ignoring Mulder’s curious eyebrow raise.

“Scully? Where are you going?” 

Mulder’s question was cut off as Scully nudged the door shut with her hip, running her fingers through her hair. Mulder watched as Scully walked around the front of the car on her toes, avoiding the pebbles on the ground before she stopped at the passenger side, their eyes meeting through his window. 

Scully raised her eyebrow as she placed her hands on her hips expectantly. Mulder stopped chewing on his last sunflower seed as he quickly opened the car door, expecting to get some answers as to why Scully had abruptly left. Scully watched him as she rested her hand on the top of the car door, her weight falling against the metal as she bit her bottom lip, her eyes dark with arousal. 

“Push the seat back, Mulder.” 

Mulder gave her a confused look which only lasted a second before he seemed to register what she said and leaned forward to pull the lever under the seat, pushing his weight back so the seat pushed back as far as it could go. Scully felt the flush of arousal burn her cheeks as she stepped closer, taking the binoculars from Mulder’s lap. Scully let her fingers brush against the seam of his pants, lingering longer than necessary before she chucked the binoculars to her seat, making room for herself on his thighs.

Mulder was momentarily silenced as he watched Scully sensually gather her skirt up around her waist, flashing him a quick glimpse of her red underwear, before she ducked her head and climbed into the car. Mulder’s hands instantly reached out to her hips to stabilise her as she settled straddled across his lap, her knees falling on the seat either side of his thighs before she reached over to pull the car door shut.

“Scully what are you-“ 

His question was cut off as Scully shushed him by quickly crashing their lips together with an urgency that ended with the kiss being sloppy and passionate. Their tongues and teeth clashed together as Scully moaned, her hands resting on either side of his neck. Mulder’s hands stayed glued to her hips, not daring to move as she pulled away, her lips swollen with the intensity of their kiss. 

Scully rested further down onto his lap as she looked into his eyes, her tongue licking his salty taste off her bottom lip. Mulder swallowed as he searched her eyes, sitting back against the car seat in slight disbelief, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her shirt.

“Not that I’m complaining right now Scully, but wh-“

“We’re going to have sex. Right now.”

Scully’s words cut him off and his lips parted in shock. It wasn’t like her to initiate sex so openly like this, and never while they were on the job, but she knew it was the only way to sate the suddenly overwhelming hunger gnawing at her insides. Scully smirked when she felt Mulder grow hard beneath her, his semi-hard erection rubbing deliciously against her centre as she shifted her weight.

She had to suppress a chuckle with how Mulder sat still, his whole body unmoving with his obvious shock before he rapidly blinked when Scully reached down to unbuckle his belt. Her gaze fell down to watch as she made quick work of unzipping his fly, reaching her fingers inside and teasing him through his boxers. Mulder seemed to catch on that she was serious as his hands moved to her thighs, pushing her skirt up a little bit higher, his eyes still wide and watching her talented fingers bring his erection to full attention.

“Really? You want to have sex? Here? Now?”

“Did I stutter, Mulder?”

Mulder groaned before he gave her a cocky grin, adjusting his hips so she could pull his pants and boxers down enough for his cock to spring free, resting against his stomach. Mulder cleared his throat as his fingertips dug slightly harder into Scully’s thighs in anticipation.

“Heard you loud and clear.”

The position was a little awkward, but Scully smiled when she got herself comfortable again, her eyes looking back up to Mulder’s, her fingertips brushing against his cock softly. Teasing.

“Good. Now let me ride you, Agent Mulder.”

The way his name purred from her lips caused Mulder to groan as Scully lifted herself up slightly, Mulder’s hands keeping her steady. Scully let go of Mulder’s erection as she bunched her skirt up and reached between her legs to pull her underwear to the side, exposing her wet and swollen lips, lips that Mulder couldn’t help but reach out to touch. 

Moaning, Scully bit her bottom lip as she let Mulder play with her for a moment, her eyes slipping closed as his slippery fingers brushed against her clit and down to her entrance. His cock was now fully erect and obviously just as excited as Mulder was from the anticipation of what his body knew was coming. 

“Jesus, Scully. When did you get this wet?”

Scully’s eyes opened with a smirk, looking down to watch his fingers disappear between her legs before he pulled them away, now coated with her arousal. Mulder looked up at her with dark eyes as he returned to gently rubbing her clit.

“Why don’t you stop teasing me and feel how wet I really am”

She started to get impatient, the want to have him inside her growing as she reached down to touch his cock, giving it a few strokes before she captured his lips with hers again, shuffling forward a little bit to get herself in position. Mulder’s fingers left her centre as he grabbed her hips, now holding her skirt up with both hands, giving her room to see what she was doing.

Breaking away from the kiss, Scully looked down between them as she lined his cock up with her entrance, letting the tip slide between her folds in preparation as Mulder’s grip on her tightened, his hips jerking ever so slightly with a huff of his breath against her forehead.

Once she was satisfied with how wet he now was, she rested her free hand on his shoulder as she began to lower herself down, her breath hitching in her throat as he began to fill her, inch by inch. The desire inside of her was screaming for her to hurry, but she held herself back enough to take her time until he was buried fully inside of her, her hips now flush with his pelvic bone.

Mulder moaned as he bent his head down slightly to capture her lips, his hands coming up to rest on either side of her face, trying to calm himself down while Scully took the time to adjust to him. Scully gave a whimper into his lips as she rocked her hips experimentally before breaking the kiss, pulling away enough to look into his eyes with a smile.

“Mmm, now that’s how I like my Mulder.”

Scully had to admit, no matter how many times they did this, she still got those same butterflies in her stomach with how they seemed to just fit together so well. Placing both hands on Mudler’s chest, she gripped the fabric of his shirt softly between her fingers as she began to get up onto her knees, starting a slow rhythm of riding him up and down before rocking her hips backwards and forwards, still letting her body adjust but trying to somewhat subdue the fire burning in her belly.

The slight grunts coming from somewhere deep in Mulder’s chest sent arousal shooting to her centre as she tilted her head back slightly, allowing herself to pick up her rhythm. It was a little bit difficult in the car, but her height for once was making things easier and it allowed her to rise and fall on his lap without hitting her head. Scully gripped his shirt tighter in her fingers as she leaned forward, resting her forehead on his shoulder, breathing in his scent. The smell of his aftershave mixed with the sweat brought on from the day was intoxicating. 

Mulder rested his chin on the mass of Scully’s hair as he fumbled with the shirt at her waist, frantically pulling it out of her skirt to seek the feel of her skin. Scully gave a moan of approval when she felt his slightly calloused fingers against her skin, sliding under her shirt towards her back, fingers sprawled against her spine. The way he touched her, so gently but at the same time claiming his territory made her shiver with arousal as she felt her inner muscles clench around his cock instinctively.

“Jesus Scully!”

Mulder groaned as he gave a kiss to her hair, his hips now starting a rhythm of their own, urged on by the way her walls seemed to invite him in. Scully murmured a muffled “Yes!” into his neck as she matched his rhythm, sitting herself down as he thrust up, getting the deepest angle they could in this position. It wasn’t ideal as Mulder’s knees kept hitting the car door, but it was working in getting them to the goal they both now seemed desperate to seek. 

Scully pulled her head away as she gave him a rough kiss before she rested her hands on his shoulders, making it easier for her to begin to speed up her movements, her knees rubbing against the leather of the car seat below. Mulder looked into her eyes as she smirked, clenching around him once again, on purpose this time.

“I need more. Don’t be careful with me now, Mulder.”

Scully’s eyes twinkled with delight as she heard a growl vibrate from Mulder’s throat as he stopped their movements for a moment, using his hands now to tug at her shirt, not bothering to unbutton it all the way, just enough to roughly pull it open at the top, exposing her bra. Scully rested down onto his lap as she quickly unbuttoned his shirt too, exposing the tuft of chest hairs just above his pectoral muscles that she loved so much. 

Mulder didn’t hesitate in pushing the left bra cup down, exposing her breast before his mouth latched onto her erect nipple, already a blushed pink colour from her arousal. Gasping, Scully arched up, her hand grabbing onto his hair as she held him against her, his hot mouth sucking and licking her into bliss. She didn’t know what was happening tonight, but her breasts had never been this sensitive to his touch before, it was like every swipe of his tongue against her nipple sent a jolt directly to her clit.

Scully couldn’t sit still any longer, she needed to move. Gripping his hair, she held him against her as she began to rock her hips once more, her clit rubbing against his body with every roll of her hips. Mulder gave her nipple one last suck, pulling it tightly between his lips as he pulled his head back, finally letting it pop out of his mouth. Scully let out a whimper as he started to move with her, his hands returning to her back, sliding underneath her skirt to rest against her ass. Mulder gripped the flesh tightly in his fingers as he started to guide her hips, bringing her down with a little more force than she could achieve on her own. Scully wasn’t usually one to be overly vocal in the bedroom, but as Mulder began to pick up his pace she couldn’t hold herself back, her restraint breaking with the constant brushing of his cock against her g-spot.

“Oh god, Mulder!” 

Scully’s voice dropped a few octaves lower, the unusually raspy tones made Mulder groan. He always loved the sound of her voice when it was dripping with her arousal like that. Scully began to fully let herself go, her pace quickening as Mulder matched her thrust for thrust, their skin slapping together as Scully dug her fingers into his chest. Her nails raked down the middle of his chest, leaving angry red marks in their wake, before she gathered his shirt tightly in her clenched fist. 

Tilting her head back, Scully exposed the column of her neck and Mulder leaned down quickly, giving it a strong lick before biting on the underside of her jaw, holding the skin tightly between his teeth. Scully could feel his hot breath on her skin as he lifted her body up slightly with every sharp raise of his hips.

Their body heat trapped in the car and mingled with the hot air outside was making it hard to breathe. But neither could stop, not now, they were both past that moment so they just kept moving, their bodies working together in a frantic motion. Scully could feel beads of sweat run down her back and between her breasts while Mulder’s teeth still pinched her skin right on the spot under her jaw that always made her knees weak. 

Scully knew he was close, she could feel it in the way his fingers gripped her ass tighter, pulling her down more erratically than before. Moaning with a smile, Scully slipped one hand between their bodies, her fingers reaching her clit on instinct as she quickly began to rub herself in small, tight circles. They could never really time it to come together, but he would always try his best to hold off until she came first, and god did she love him for that.

With the added stimulation against her clit, Scully could feel herself climb towards that peak much faster, her back arching slightly as he grunted at the change in angle before he pulled his lips away from the now marked skin, looking down between them to watch Scully’s fingers rapidly slide across her clit.

“I’ll never get tired of seeing that.”

His voice came out staccato-like in between breaths and Scully smirked, biting her bottom lip as she watched him watch her. There was something so erotic about how he watched her, how his eyes were so dark and his pupils dilated and his pouty lips parted in mesmerisation as his hips continued to pump up into her. 

For once, Mulder was the first to break the moment as he quickly looked up at her, catching her gaze as he slowed down his hips, trying to hold himself back from the inevitable. Scully could feel how his fingers held her ass in a death grip and how his thighs shook slightly underneath her as she slowed her fingers down. She would let him get away with not letting her come first this time, only because she knew she was so close to that edge herself it wouldn’t take much coaxing.

“Where do I…umm?”

Mulder frantically looked around the car as Scully gave a breathy chuckle before she sank herself down onto him fully, her hips rolling in circles. He would always double check with her where he could finish, even though the answer was nearly always the same. It was quite endearing really. Scully had already made up her mind that she wanted him to come inside her - that was the cleanest way to do it in the car.

“Where do you come? Well I think you’re already in a prime position here, Mulder.”

Scully emphasised his name with a clench of her inner walls around him which caused him to grunt as he looked back into her eyes. His cheeks were flushed with arousal and his eyebrows knitted together in concentration as he used every part of self restraint he had to not just tumble over that edge. Scully always found how desperate he looked right before he came attractive, knowing that she was the only one lucky enough to see it. 

“You know where I want you,” Scully whispered as she nudged her nose with his before their tongues touched in a hot open-mouthed kiss and that was all the approval he needed from her. 

Pulling away from the kiss, Mulder quickly began to thrust back up into her. The sudden quick and hard thrusts against her made Scully gasp as she wrapped her hands around his head, gripping his hair as he rested his forehead on her chest. Mulder groaned loudly as he pulled her down hard against him as his hips shot up, forcing himself as deep inside of her as he could and whispering “Dana…coming..” incoherently against the sticky skin of her chest.

Scully gave a moan of approval, feeling him tense before he began grunting as his orgasm took over him. An approving pur resounded deep in her chest and her toes curled as she felt the slight movement of him within her before he started thrusting again, slower this time, using the friction of her to prolong his orgasm. Scully closed her eyes, momentarily basking in the way he felt inside her. She was always amazed by how long he seemed to be able to come and she loved every second of it, especially after she’d missed it for so long.

Mulder’s breath was rapid as he pulled her down onto him once more, staying inside her as he once again latched onto her nipple, tugging it with his teeth. Scully’s body instantly responded to the extra stimulation with a whimper as her fingers quickly resumed their previous rhythm against her clit, her arousal peaking with the feeling of him still hard inside of her and his cock still giving the occasional orgasmic pulse.

The combination of Mulder’s firm sucks and nips of her breast and her fingers rolling over her swollen clit was enough for her orgasm to build rapidly. Scully moaned as she arched her back, her head falling forward, her lips meeting his head with sloppy kisses.

“Mmm I’m coming!”

It was barely a whimper into his hair as Scully’s fingers rapidly circled before her hips twitched and her toes flexed, lights flashing behind her eyes. Giving out a low moan, Scully’s orgasm crashed over her, her fingers slowing down as her body pulsed and contracted in blissful waves. Mulder groaned as Scully’s inner muscles spasmed strongly around him as if trying to pull him in deeper, her entrance milking him for anything he may still have to give to her. Scully lowered herself against his chest since her body was unable to hold itself up any longer as Mulder nuzzled into her skin, kissing her nipple gently with a wet, open mouth. Her fingers tightened in his hair as she continued to clench around him, the throbbing of her clit slowing down under her fingers as her body started to come down from her high and become heavy in his embrace.

Mulder moved his arms to slide up her back, holding her steady against him as her breath began to even out. Scully closed her eyes and just inhaled the scent of Mulder’s hair, making the most of the post-coital bliss she enjoyed so much. Just being in Mulder’s arms like this and him seemingly all over her was something that Scully had never thought she would crave so much. Kissing the top of his head once, she opened her eyes as Mulder moved his head away from her chest, his eyes looking up to hers with a goofy smile on his face. Chuckling, Scully captured his lips in a gentle kiss.

Mulder’s teeth nibbled on her bottom lip and it caused her to shiver, her muscles clenching tightly around Mulder’s cock in response. Hissing, Mulder pulled away as Scully bit her bottom lip. The added stimulation to his now softened cock caused him to twitch uncomfortably. Scully relaxed and brushed his sweaty hair away from his forehead.

“Oh, sorry…Can you get me the tissues out of my bag?”

Mulder turned his head to see her hand bag spilled onto her side of the car, obviously having been knocked over from the centre console during their activities. Moving his hand to rest on her hips, Mulder grabbed the pack of tissues poking out of her bag, giving it to her, his head leaning down once again to kiss her exposed breast, just above her heart. Scully smiled softly as she watched him, pulling out a few tissues, slowly getting back up onto her knees. Giving Mulder one, she tossed the rest of the packet back to her seat.

Scully took her time in sliding off him, not wanting to make this an uncomfortable experience for Mulder. Once free from her heat, his limp cock fell to his body, resting against the fabric of his pants, shiny from the mixture of both their arousal. Scully pulled her skirt up higher so she could see what she was doing as she started to clean herself, smirking with how Mulder’s gaze was so transfixed on her movements. 

Once she was satisfied that she was not going to completely ruin her underwear the moment she put them back on, she balled up the wet tissues and reached down and wiggled her hips, sliding her underwear back into place. Scully caught his gaze again as he chuckled, obviously embarrassed about how intensely he was watching her. 

She grabbed the tissue hanging loosely in Mulder’s fingers before she let her hand fall to his lap, stroking him softly as she cleaned him, placing a content kiss on his lips.

“Thought you could use some help there, Mulder.”

Mulder nodded dumbly as he returned the kiss before he lifted his hips slightly to pull his pants back up, tucking himself away back into his boxers. Scully took the time to stay up on her knees as he readjusted himself, pulling her bra back over her breast and buttoning up the few buttons on her shirt around her chest. Leaning over she collected the few items that had spilled out of her bag before she placed it back on the centre console. She knew that she had to get off him now, that they had already taken a huge risk doing this both on the clock as well in public so she swung her leg over him, shuffling over the centre console.

Mulder watched her as she settled back into her seat, her thighs squeezed together as she pulled the visor down and flicked the light on in the car so she could check her makeup in the mirror. Scully could feel his eyes on her and she couldn’t help but smile as a warmth once again flooded her system. It wasn’t unusual for them to go more than once but the hungry haze that had possessed her before was duller now, her senses cleared enough for her to know they couldn’t risk doing it in this public setting again.

Scully tilted her head back slightly to brush her hair out of her eyes when she paused, seeing an angry red spot under her jaw, the odd tooth mark dented into her skin. Snapping her eyes to Mulder, she gave him a glare.

“Mulder, how am I going to cover this up?”

Her voice was scolding, but she couldn’t stop the arousal that hit her centre again at the idea of him marking her skin. She was never one to enjoy that, but on the occasions that Mulder did it she had to admit that she enjoyed the little rush of feeling claimed like that. 

Mulder’s lips broke out into a smirk as he leaned over, giving her a kiss on the cheek, one she instantly relaxed into, despite her frustration. 

“Scully, you aren’t going to cover it up. I want people to see.”

Scully glared at him again as he moved away from her cheek, her fingers reaching out to fall behind his head and pull him back to her by his hair as she kissed him, their swollen lips moving against each other before she gave his pouty bottom lip a sharp bite, a little payback for the obvious hickey on her jaw. Mulder shuffled closer to deepen the kiss and Scully could feel the haze start to cloud her judgement and the fire in her belly alight once again as his hand rested on her thigh, teasing his fingers under the hem of her skirt. It took all her effort to move her hands down to his chest, pushing him back as she broke their kiss, resting their foreheads together.

“We need to stop, Mulder. It’s late, let’s just go and get some rest.”

Scully brushed her fingers against the skin in-between his open shirt and her eyes briefly took notice of the red marks she made before she closed the buttons. Mulder gave her a quick kiss and agreed. Rolling down the car windows, it took some time for them to clear the windows from the steam and condensation that they had built up before Scully could put her shoes back on and drive them back to their hotel. Mulder’s hand still rested on her knee, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing her skin. Scully’s lips were fixed in a content smile the whole drive back.

---♡---

Their hotel was rather low budget, but it wasn’t as bad as some of the places they had been to; at least they got fresh sheets every day and everything was kept fairly clean. Pulling up into their designated parking space, Mulder got out of the car first, running around to the driver's side to open her door. Rolling her eyes, Scully turned off the ignition and grabbed her bag and got out, standing before him as he stepped closer, trapping her between him and the car. Scully raised her eyebrow.

“Mulder? What are yo-“

She was cut off as he grabbed her hips, pulling her against him roughly, and her balance wavered for a moment until he held her close. 

“Kiss me goodnight.”

Scully gave him another glare as she looked up into his eyes. He knew her stance on public displays of affection. Even though they had just broken that rule in a major way, there weren’t people possibly watching them deep in the forest. They had been in the safety of the dark and their car, not out in the open under the bright neon glow of the hotel sign. But Scully couldn’t resist the challenging look in his eyes. He knew how to push her competitive buttons like that. 

Looking around them quickly, she checked that they were alone before she grabbed his shirt with her free hand and pulled herself up on her tiptoes, while his head bent down to meet in a brief kiss. Scully gave a little whimper as his grip around her body tightened and he deepened the kiss, the taste of the salty sunflower seeds he had eaten to distract himself on the drive back still fresh on his lips.

Scully closed her eyes, tilting her head back as her hand moved to rest on his neck, her thumb stroking his sweaty skin. Mulder held her to him with one strong arm resting against her back as the other stroked her cheek, brushing over the mark left on her jaw as his tongue softly slipped between her parted lips. Squeaking slightly, Scully opened her eyes before she pulled away from his lips, lowering herself back down to the ground. Stroking his lips with her thumb she gave him a smile and slipped the car keys into his hand. He stepped away while she walked backwards towards her hotel room, the smile still on her lips as she watched him.

“Goodnight, Mulder.”

Mulder smiled back to her while she unlocked her door and slipped inside, the flick of red hair the last thing visible before the door shut behind her.

---♡---

Scully rested back against the hotel door for a moment with a grin on her face before she pushed herself off, put her bag on the dresser, and walked towards the bathroom to have a shower and clean herself up a little better than she could earlier in the car with only a few tissues. Even though she had wiped herself mostly clean, she could feel the evidence of him still managing to seep between her legs and make her underwear damp on the drive back to the hotel.

Scully kicked her shoes off as she walked, her fingers working to unbutton her shirt before she mindlessly let it fall to the floor. She was usually a stickler for having things neat and tidy, but the sweat on her skin and the stickiness between her legs begged her to shower first. She could pick everything up after. Once she reached the door of the bathroom, she unzipped her skirt and shimmied her hips, stepping out of the wrinkled fabric. 

It already felt so much better to have the air touching her heated skin and she knew that a cool shower would make things feel even better. That was the problem with these run down hotels: the air conditioning was non-existent and there was only so much a squeaky ceiling fan could accomplish.

Her hands went to undo her bra when she heard a few knocks against her hotel door. Looking over her shoulder with a start, Scully swore under her breath as she went to pick her skirt off the floor in a hurry to get dressed before she could open the door.

“Housekeeping, Agent Scully.”

Her fingers dropped the skirt back to the floor as she smirked and the irritation at being disturbed was replaced with a warm flutter in her stomach at hearing Mulder’s voice.

Scully brushed her sweaty hair behind her ears and walked over to the door, choosing to stay in her bra and underwear as she looked through the peep hole to double check it was just him before opening the door, peeking around it. Nodding her head for him to come in, she bit her bottom lip when she saw him wearing only his pants and concluded that his shirt must be lying back in his room somewhere, probably discarded like hers was on the floor.

Shutting the door, Scully watched him as he raised his eyebrows, taking in the fact that she was only wearing very little. Smirking, Mulder stepped towards her, his hands falling to her hips, brushing her skin.

“Well, aren't I a little overdressed?”

Chuckling, Scully reached up to slip the lock and chain across her door, before she closed the gap between them and rested her fingers in the belt loops of  his pants. How was it that just being in his presence tonight was enough for her hunger for him to resurface. Her centre pulsed between her legs as she leaned up and Mulder arched his neck to meet her half way as she teasingly brushed her lips against his with not enough pressure to call it a kiss.

“I think you are…maybe we should rectify that, don't you think, Mulder?”

Mulder slipped his hands around to her ass, cupping her roughly before he picked her up, her legs instantly wrapping around his waist with a squeak as he nodded, backing his way towards the bed. The back of Mulder’s knees hit the mattress and he fell backwards, Scully falling on top of him in a fit of giggles.

---♡---

Peeling herself out of his arms, Scully sat up in the rumpled hotel sheets, her body still slick from sweat as she smiled, feeling him reach out for her.

“Where are you going?”

Scully looked down at him in the dark, making out his silhouette from the glow of the neon lights outside. Reaching over, she brushed his hair back as his fingers played with the skin of her thigh. Mulder became cuddlier after sex, and normally Scully would relent and let him have his way, but tonight with the mixture of the heat, sweat and fresh come pooling between her legs, she knew she wanted a shower before she could even think about falling asleep.

“I need a shower. You left quite a mess, Mulder.”

Scully’s fingers brushed his lips and felt a grin form on his under the pads of her thumb before he kissed it. 

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you messy because of me for a little bit longer, but if you must.”

Rolling her eyes, Scully bent down to give him a quick kiss, untangling herself from both him and the sheets before she got up and made her way towards the bathroom with her legs pressed a little tighter together. She could feel his eyes on her the whole way and gave him one last look at her naked in the vivid lights of the bathroom, turning to him before she shut the door. A loud groan coming from the bed caused her to chuckle under her breath.

After a quick and relatively cold shower - the weather was muggy and the hotel didn’t have the best hot water to start with -, Scully felt reasonably refreshed. Standing naked in the slightly steamy bathroom, Scully took her time to dry her hair enough before she hung her towel and reached for her toiletry bag up on the cabinet to get her toothbrush ready. 

Putting the toothbrush in her mouth, Scully paused and frowned slightly when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, noticing how much bigger her breasts seemed. Lowering her arms, she leaned in to observe her reflection closer, using her hands to brush against the swollen skin. She noticed how they seemed to sit a little fuller in her hands. Scully pulled her toothbrush out of her mouth and whispered “Huh” under her breath before she lowered her hands slowly, her free hand resting on her belly.

Looking down, Scully’s eyebrows knitted together as she watched her hand brush over the flat expanse of skin, her thumb playing with the gold piercing of her belly button. She looked up once again, catching her own eyes through the mirror. She shouldn’t think such things, it wasn’t possible for her, right? Blinking rapidly, trying to get the thoughts out of her head, she quickly finished brushing her teeth, her eyes not leaving her stomach no matter how hard she tried to look elsewhere.

It was just because she was tired. She hadn’t had a good night's sleep in weeks and her hormones were all over the place, understandably, as she was only running on coffee and, if she was lucky, two hours sleep a night. But the more she thought about it, the more things were starting to fall into place- 

“No. Stop it. That’s impossible, you’re just exhausted.”

Scully scolded herself as she spat the excess toothpaste into the sink before rinsing quickly. Opening the bathroom door, she watched Mulder in her bed, laying on his back, the sheets tossed to the side and exposing everything he had to show, his chest rising and falling gently. He looked so peaceful when he managed to sleep. Scully’s thoughts were racing as she picked up their clothes, folding them and putting them onto the dresser before she made her way back to the bed. Looking down at him, Scully smiled softly as she crawled onto the mattress and lay down, letting her damp hair fall onto her pillow looking up at the ceiling. 

Mulder shifted beside her and rolled onto his side, his arm sliding over her stomach. Scully sucked in a breath before she looked over at him, seeing his eyes now open and watching her. God, she could get lost in those hazel eyes. Shifting, Scully rolled into him, his arm moving now to fall around her while his fingers traced across her bare skin and the inked pattern on her lower back.

“Did you want me to go?”

Mulder was well aware that she was breaking a lot of her own rules tonight and Scully thought that maybe the best thing would be for him to just go back to his hotel room - then at least they wouldn’t be so obvious in the morning. But all these new thoughts were whirling in her head and there was a tug in her heart that told her that she needed him to stay tonight. After all, even though they would have to be up in a few hours anyway, they always seemed to sleep better with one another. 

Scully moved her arms to tuck under her chin as she snuggled into him and his arms pulled her closer instinctively. Scully took a deep breath and his scent filled her senses as she sighed. One leg slipped in between his and the other slung over his hips as she placed a kiss to his throat.

Scully shook her head and Mulder relaxed back into the bed, chuckling. She wrapped her arms around him as best she could, her head resting under his chin in their usual sleeping position. Mulder adjusted himself to get comfortable as he nuzzled into her damp hair, kissing her head softly.

“I’ll take that as a no. Night, Scully.”

“Goodnight, Mulder.”

[sisterspooky1013]

Damsels, Chapter Ten: Last Day

By SisterSpooky1013 / Read previous chapters here

Rated E / Tagging @today-in-fic

Adult Content Immediately after the jump

He sits there stunned, his heart pounding in his cock, which is so hard it actually hurts. He looks to the open curtain Scully just disappeared through, considering the possibility that he just hallucinated all of that. Looking at his lap, he sees that the fly of his jeans is damp, lower than it would be were that his own precum seeping through. A new wave of desire overtakes him realizing that it’s her, her wetness on him. How wet would she have had to be for it to soak through her underwear and get on his pants? He runs his hands over his face, trying to locate reality.

“You about done in there?” the hulking man who’d been keeping watch over them asks. He wonders what Scully had said to him to make that possible. “Excuse me, would you please look the other way so I might dry hump my coworker in private?”

He stands, wondering if it will be more obvious if he tries to hide his erection rather than just pretend it’s not there. He goes with option B and scans the room for her as he makes his way to the main entrance, not surprised that she isn’t working the floor; she may need a minute after that herself. He’s intending to go out to his car, but changes course at the last moment and pushes his way into the men’s room instead. It’s surprisingly clean and unoccupied, so he steps into a stall and latches the door closed. He unzips quickly, freeing his turgid hard-on and beginning to stroke, one hand braced against the wall. It doesn’t take much; ten or twelve pumps and he’s spurting into the toilet, stifling his cries into his upper arm. He flushes and washes his hands, avoiding eye contact with the man who enters the stall he just finished defiling, then exits the club.

He sits in his car in the parking lot, inhaling sunflower seeds as his leg bounces nervously. He’s been watching the rear doors of the club for hours, waiting for her to get off work, but it’s after 3 am and he hasn’t seen her yet. As the last light in the club extinguishes, he slams his hands against the steering wheel in frustration. Against his better judgment, he checks into a motel.

*******************************************************

When she wakes it’s just after 9 am, which feels like a wonderfully normal time to be waking up. If not for her location, she might have been able to forget, for a moment, that she’s on a case. Might have been able to forget that she’s working as a stripper. Might have been able to forget that she kissed Mulder last night. And let him touch her breasts. And lick them. While she straddled him and practically fucked him through his pants. The resulting throb between her legs at the memory doesn’t allow her to forget. She lays there for a long while, wondering what will happen next. Will she return home after the case and act like nothing happened? Will Mulder insist that they talk about it? Maybe she can convince him that it wasn’t her. A Doppelganger. But if she does that, she’ll have to stop hoping that it will happen again. Who knows what they might do with unlimited time and privacy.

Rolling out of bed, she powers up the burner phone while she makes coffee and toast. She even indulges and butters it. Fuck it.

“Agent Wiley.”

“Hello, Agent Wiley, this is Agent Scully.”

“Good morning, Agent Scully, I’m glad you called.”

“Oh? Did you learn something from the files I found?” She sits at the small dining room table with her steaming mug.

“Maybe. Most of the information is so vague, we weren’t able to put names to any of the women who have already left the club, but we did get one possible hit on someone who’s still there. On the file listed as J.H.”

“The woman who’s hiding from her abusive husband? Who works in law enforcement?”

“Yes. There was a missing person’s report filed eight months ago by Officer Jacob Hall in Eerie, PA. His wife Jennifer and three year old daughter Aubrey weren’t home when he returned from his shift one random Wednesday. All of their personal effects were accounted for, including Jennifer’s purse and ID, but no sign of a struggle. It’s like they just vanished.”

“Lexie, the woman I thought may be J.H., said her real name was Leanne.”

“I’m sure it’s an alias. Can’t be too careful.”

“Do you have a description of her, identifying marks?”

“Yeah, one second,” Scully hears the flutter of shuffling papers, “uh, okay, five foot eight, medium build, dark brown hair, brown eyes. She has a tattoo of a phoenix on her chest.”

“That’s Lexie. I’m sure of it.”

“Okay. Well, we’ll have to discuss amongst the team here how to handle that considering the safety risk if we report it. What about Mila? Any sign of her?”

Scully shakes her head, though Agent Wiley can’t see her. “No, nothing. I don’t think she’s here anymore, if she ever was at all.”

“Shit. Well, go ahead and report for work tonight, see if you can dig up anything else. In the meantime, I’m going to report back to A.D. Kersh and see if we can get clearance to pull you out, maybe tomorrow.”

Scully sighs heavily with relief. “Thank you so much, Agent Wiley.”

One more day. She can make it through one more day. And then what?

She spends the afternoon cleaning the apartment, laundering the sheets and re-folding all the clothes in the drawers. She likes to leave places in better shape than when she found them. People too, she realizes. She wants the legacy she leaves to be a good one, whatever the situation. She hopes she leaves a good legacy at Damsels, as absurd as that sounds.

*******************************************************

Over his cup of shitty motel room coffee, he has an epiphany. Well, maybe not an epiphany so much as a realization.

He has to take a chance with Scully. He has to tell her how he feels. If he tells her and she doesn’t feel the same way, he might lose her. But if he doesn’t tell her, she’ll end up with someone else and he’ll lose her anyway. If he does nothing, he’s guaranteed to end up miserable and alone. He’s got nothing to lose.

He’s going to tell her. Tonight.

*******************************************************

Reporting for work that evening, she feels oddly nostalgic. She’s more than ready to go home and resume a job wherein her nipples are typically covered, but she feels a little sad about never seeing these people again. As she gets ready in the dancer’s room, she laughs a little harder at Tibet’s jokes. She smiles a little more warmly at Magenta’s sage advice. She feels greater empathy for Lexie, and desperately hopes that Agent Wiley will keep her and her daughter safe. Angel should be back tonight, but Scully hasn’t seen her. The thought that she may leave this assignment without ever having the chance to speak to Angel again makes her chest feel heavy with regret.

She goes out for her first stage set of the night and has a little more fun with it, knowing it may be one of the last. As she circulates the floor afterward, she’s a little more grateful for Denny’s careful watch and his protectiveness over her. She’s a little kinder to Mr. Keane in the VIP room as he laments never having had children. He seems a little more human to her, now.

Heading back to the dancer’s room for her break between sets, she thinks about how much she’s changed, and wonders if some of Desiree might make the journey home with her. Scully might like to keep her sense of playfulness, and her confidence. She might like to learn from Desi how to let go and just be in the moment. How to be with Mulder. She changes into a lavender bandeau top and matching bikini cut panties for her next, and maybe last, set, and is freshening her makeup when a familiar voice calls out from behind her.

“Hey, bitches!”

She smiles at herself in the mirror, feeling relieved, and spins around in her chair. As she turns to face the voice, her smile quickly fades and her mouth hangs open in shock.

Mila Chamberlain is standing in front of her.

[thescullyphile]

Dana Scully, Handyman

Drip... Drip... Drip...

Mulder’s sink is broken, and he doesn’t know what to do. Maintenance was not a skill taught in the Vineyard. He places a bucket under his leaking pipes and goes to work with the optimistic hope that the bucket won’t overflow.

356, 357, 358...He mentally counts the drips throughout the day, something to distract him other than throwing pencils at the ceiling. Unlike chasing a religious sect of possible aliens, office work is boring. It’s even worse when Scully leaves, like she has now, to get her lunch. He is so engrossed that he misses Scully’s return, and her calling his name, until she waves her hand in front of him. “Sorry, sorry, what were you saying?”

Scully places a bottle of sweet tea in front of him. “The vending machine gave me two.” She explains. “What’re you thinking about? You were pretty far off there.”

Mulder cracks open the tea, nodding appreciatively in her direction. “Just wondering how many drops of water a two gallon bucket can hold.”

The quizzical look that he garners from Scully prompts him to give a better explanation.

“My kitchen sink’s leaking and I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

“Oh.” Scully pauses to unwrap her salad. “Do you want me to look at it?”

Mulder finds himself nodding before he knows what is happening. His brain is functioning in a different realm than his mouth as they settle the details. Scully will come over to his apartment after work. She will go home first to change and pick up her tool box. (Mulder only has some duct tape and a hammer.) Those are the facts, but Mulder doesn’t fully finish processing them until he is checking out the ingredients for spaghetti from the grocer’s near his apartment. It occurs to him, as he swipes his card, that they never actually talked about dinner. But it’s too late now. He’s twenty dollars poorer, and finds he doesn’t mind it, if making Scully dinner is the reason. Why he’s happy about making dinner for his partner is a good question, but Mulder doesn’t have the time to put his psychology degree to use.

Laden with groceries, Mulder takes one step inside of his apartment and grimaces. This will not do. Though definitely not a bachelor pad, 42 Hegal Place has seen its better days, and was, Mulder realized, not fit for company. After about thirty minutes of opening windows and picking up socks, Mulder was satisfied that Scully, upon walking in, would not think she had been transported to a prehistoric cave dwelling.

A knock sounds from his front door as Mulder is chopping onions. His eyes are watering as he trips over himself to open the door, irrationally afraid that if he’s not fast enough she’ll just walk away and he’ll be left with a table for one and spaghetti for two. And a leaky sink.

“Hi, come on in.” His voice is a little breathless but Scully smiles anyways. She’s wearing worn blue jeans, cuffed so she won’t step on the hem, and a t-shirt. Work clothes. Real work clothes. It occurs to Mulder that this is the first time that he’s seen her bare arms since that night in Oregon a few months ago. She looks good.

Scully follows him into the kitchen, eyeing his preparations for dinner but saying nothing, which makes Mulder nervous. He opens the cabinet under the sink, motions to the leaking pipes halfheartedly. “I can only tell you that it’s leaking, I really don’t know much about plumbing.” The bucket, which had occupied his mind so stubbornly earlier that day, had been forgotten, and now stands half an inch from overflowing under his sink. It sloshes as he yanks it out by the handle. “I’m gonna- I’m gonna go empty this out. In the...bathroom.”

Mulder makes his escape, facepalms a little, because why is he being so weird? It’s just Scully.

Bucket empty, he returns to the kitchen to find Scully on her back, looking like she knows what she’s doing. So that makes one of them. Her knee jerks a little, surprised, he thinks, from the unexpected sensation of a drop of water falling onto her face. Mulder offers her a towel, and her voice sounds tinny from under the sink as she thanks him.

Left with nothing to do, Mulder stands there for a moment, but watching Scully fix the sink feels somewhat creepy, so he turns back to the stove and tries to remind himself how to cook pasta. Fifteen minutes later, she finishes working and gives him the all clear just in time to drain the spaghetti. He almost forgets a colander, and is ten seconds away from pouring pasta down the drain before common sense kicks in.

Scully explains what was wrong with the pipes like he knows enough to understand her, but Mulder doesn’t really know what she’s talking about. He can’t think about anything, too anxious that he’s going to miss his window to invite her to join him for dinner. Her sentence is barely ended before he’s blurting out “Will you stay to eat?

“I don’t want to impose, Mulder.”

“Please? It’s the least I can do, really.”

Scully smiles a bit. “Well, if you insist.”

--

Scully sets the table while Mulder serves, thinking fleetingly that he wished he had some parsley for a garnish before deciding it would be stupid. What kind of person just has parsley on hand?

They eat in silence for a moment, briefly awkward before Mulder clears his throat. “So, any fun story about how you became a one woman maintenance company?”

“Sort of.” Scully gives a fond, private little smile. “I was eight, and my dad had just come back home, and the house needed some work. I wanted to help so badly, but my dad only asked for Bill and Charlie. So I spent the week at the library, reading every manual and guide I could get my hands on- God only knows what the librarian thought- until I was certain that I knew more than the boys.” She chuckles at the memory, eyes twinkling as she looks at Mulder like they now have a shared secret.

“That weekend my dad needed help again and I just hung around until he finally gave me something to do. The boys weren’t much help after that...And the rest is history.” Mulder can imagine it, young Dana Katherine with steady hands, more patient than her brothers, as good a partner as she is now. “When my dad died,” Her voice wavers, the wound still fresh, “he left me the tool box. Bill was kind of bitter about that.”

It’s then that Mulder notices the ‘Scully’ neatly penciled in a hand he doesn’t recognize on the side of the box. He smiles, tries not to think about how Captain Scully raised a better son in his daughter than Mulder’s father raised in him.

The conversation flows more smoothly after they’ve broken the ice as friends, and Mulder has a better time than he’d dared to hope for. His apartment gets dark as night sets in, and Scully checks her utilitarian little watch hopefully, only to cock her head to the side in apology. “I should go home, it’s getting late.”

Unable to argue with the passing of time, Mulder sees her to the door, uncharacteristically bashful as she thanks him for dinner. “It’s nothing, I mean, you gave me a sweet tea today, so,” He trails off with a shrug, pleased that he’s earned a smile from her. She steps into the hallway. “Well, thank you anyways.”

They part hesitantly, like children. The door clicks shut.

[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)

[mldrgrl]

Prompt: Mulder and Scully investigate a case in a carnival and get trapped with a fortune teller. Early seasons.

Getting There

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG Note: I’m setting this right after Two Fathers/One Son.  I know the request was for early seasons, but I wanted to separate it, in an emotional sense of where they’re at in their partnership, from Humbug.

Bright lights.  Beeping, hissing, clanging, sirens.  Screams that ebb and flow.  The smell of deep fried food everywhere.  Sawdust and straw underfoot.

“Remind me again why we’re here,” Scully says.

“12-year old Faye Rawlings,” Mulder answers, holding up the 3x5 school picture-day photo cupped in his hand and scanning the crowd for a blonde little girl with a pixie cut and explosion of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks.  “Disappeared in 1977 at the Oklahoma state fair.  She went into the fun house with her 9-year old brother, Tommy, and never came out.  Tommy claims he was separated from his sister in the hall of mirrors and that one minute he was holding her hand and the next, Faye was gone from his side, but she was still in the reflections of all the mirrors.  The local authorities classified it as a kidnapping, but the case has been cold since she first went missing 20 years ago.”

Scully scans the crowd along with Mulder and pivots several times for a 360 degree view.  She holds up an identical photo to the one Mulder has, drops it again and gives an impatient sigh.

“And what’s your interest in this case?” she asks.  “We’ve had the x-files back for barely a month and this is not an x-file.”

“Sure it is.  Missing 12-year olds don’t go popping up 20 years later at traveling carnivals.”

“32, Mulder.  She’d be 32-years old by now.”

“I know.  That’s what makes it so weird that nine witnesses have reported spotting 12-year old Faye Rawlings in the last three months.”

“Is your theory alien abduction?”

“I don’t have a theory.  Yet.”

“I still don’t believe it’s an x-file.  Someone is simply playing a cruel prank.”

“Nine separate witnesses, Scully.  The first in Broken Arrow, the last in Enid.  The only thing they have in common is that they were all reported at this traveling carnival.”

“Mulder, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that while finding Faye Rawlings isn’t outside the realm of possibility, finding a 12-year old Faye Rawlings stands contrary to reason.”

“That’s what we’re in Lawton to find out.”

Scully sighs again and Mulder moves off towards the concessions area.  He flashes his badge and the photo of Faye at the vendors, but receives a shake of the head in response when he asks if anyone has seen this girl.  It’s a no from the hot dog cookers, the cotton candy spinners, the candy apple dippers, the pretzel salters, the churro fryers, and the corn-on-the-cob roasters.  Moving on, it’s the same no sir, haven’t seen her, sir, from the barkers trying to entice customers into ring tosses, popping balloons with darts, throwing ping pong balls into tiny glass fish bowls, or shooting jets of water into clowns’ mouths.

“Where’s the Fun House?” Mulder asks, trying to peer through the chaos of bummer cars, Tilt-a-Whirls, and carousels.

“Left?” Scully asks, pointing towards a row of string lights at the top of a wooden building.

They head left through narrow, but well-trodden paths created by the haphazard barriers from ride to ride.  No matter where they zig-zag, they can’t escape the constant assault of organ grinder music and screaming children.

“It’s the Tunnel of Love,” Mulder says, stopping in front of the building with the string lights.

“The other end.”  Scully points to the right where another building stands.

“Try here first so we don’t have to backtrack.”

They wait in the short line, standing out like sore thumbs amongst giggly teenagers holding hands.  A wave of nostalgia comes over Scully and she catches herself smiling a little wistfully as she remembers summer nights at the fair with friends from high school.  Mulder bumps his elbow into her arm a few times and gives her a quizzical look.  She lets the smile fade and shakes her head a little.  They keep moving forward until they’re the next in line.

“Eight tickets,” the operator says.  He’s tall and skinny with dark, greasy hair that he flips out of his eyes every so often.  He’s also barely older than the giggly teens he’s been shepherding two at a time into the tiny red boats.

Even though Mulder already has his badge out, he still produces a roll of tickets and hands them over to the operator.  “Agents Mulder and Scully,” he tells the kid.  “We’re investigating a missing persons matter.  Have you seen this girl?”

“I see a lot of girls, man.”

“Could you take a look?”

“Never seen her.”

“You didn’t even look.”

“In or out, man?  Gotta keep the line moving.”

“Come on, Mulder.”  Scully tugs at the elbow of Mulder’s suit jacket.

“Thanks for your help,” Mulder answers with thinly veiled sarcasm.  To Scully’s surprise, instead of moving towards the exit gate, he ushers her towards the tiny red boat.

“Mulder?”

“Get in.”

Confused, Scully steps into the boat and sits down.  Mulder squeezes in beside her.  The operator drops a bar across their laps and gives it a yank.

“Hands and arms inside the boat at all times,” he says.

The boat jerks forward towards a heart-shaped entrance into a tunnel and then they’re submerged in darkness.  They float along slowly and twinkle lights begin to blink in the ceiling and walls.

“What are we looking for?” Scully asks, dropping her voice when it echoes loudly in the darkness.

“Nothing,” Mulder answers.  “Didn’t want to waste tickets.”

She shifts uncomfortably.  As small in stature as she is, she still feels oversized in this small boat, wedged in so tightly next to Mulder.  He shifts as well and then stretches his arm along the back of the boat behind her shoulders.  The boat jerks to the side as they take a curve and jostles them into each other.  Reflexively, Mulder grabs onto her arm and pulls her close.  Reflexively, she tries to grab something to steady herself, which happens to be his thigh.

“Sorry,” she whispers, letting go so quickly that she falls deeper into his side.  He merely squeezes her shoulder.

As the ride continues, Scully becomes more and more uncomfortable to the point of feeling flustered and angry without exactly knowing why.  She just knows she can’t wait to get out of the boat and get away from Mulder.  And suddenly, she thinks, wouldn’t he much rather be in here in the dark with Agent Fowley?  And she knows exactly why she’s flustered and angry.

Finally, they emerge from the tunnel back to where they started and the bar across their laps pops up before they come to a stop.  Mulder lumbars out of the boat and turns to take her hand, which she ignores and steps out on her own.  He furrows his brows a little and then follows behind her as she tries not to stomp down the metal ramp to the exit in her haste to leave.

They head to the Fun House without a word.  There is no line there, just a mother and father with three small children trying to make it past the large, slowly spinning barrel into the rest of the attraction.  The kids are laughing and falling all over themselves trying to keep standing as long as possible as the barrel inches them higher.

Mulder breaks off the appropriate number of tickets from his roll and slides them under the glass partition to the ticket taker.  She barely looks up from the book she’s reading and he begrudgingly flashes his badge and the photo of Faye Rawlings.  She looks up, annoyed, and shakes her head before going back to her book.

They both walk through the spinning barrel quickly with little effort, although Mulder does keep his hand at Scully’s back.  He takes her hand as they meander through dozens of hanging punching bags.  She tries to pull away, but he holds tight.

“Don’t want to get separated,” he says.

“Why, Mulder?  You afraid I’ll disappear?”

He comes to an abrupt stop and she bumps into him.  He glances down at her, purses his lips slightly, and then slowly relaxes his grip on her hand and lets go.  “Can we just stick together, please?” he asks.

“I’m here aren’t I?”

“Barely,” he mutters and then moves off without her towards an undulating suspension bridge.

Scully is forced to hold onto both sides of the railing as she tries to make her way across the bridge as it tips and tilts from left to right.  There’s a doorway at the other side that leads into the hall of mirrors.  Mulder is waiting for her at the entrance.  They walk past the line of distortion mirrors that make them wide or tall, squat and elongated in all sort of ways, directly into the maze.

They head left and hit an immediate dead end with Mulder bumping into a mirror.  They head right and Scully bumps into a mirror as well.  They shift again, going forward, slipping along angled corridors with their infinite selves in front or to the sides of them at all times.

Scully hears the laughter of a small child and turns around, but sees nothing.  Mulder turns as well and a thousand Mulders turn with him, looking over her shoulder  She catches his eyes in the mirror and looks away, but she can still see him.  Everywhere she looks, she can see him, watching her from hundreds of different angles.  She feels overwhelmed and exposed.

Taking a deep breath, Scully closes her eyes for a moment and when she opens them, Mulder is gone.  A panicky, sick feeling comes over her and she whirls around to where he’d just been standing behind her.  When she moves left, she bumps into a mirror.  When she moves right, she bumps into another.  Her heart starts to pound and she holds her arms out, searching for open space.

“Mulder!” she calls.

She hears the child’s laughter again and when she turns around, this time a blonde little girl with a pixie haircut crosses in front of her.  “Mulder!” she calls out again.  When she turns, the little girl is in front of her, staring directly at her.  She reaches out to her and moves forward only to bump into a mirror.  When she steps back, she’s alone again.

“Faye?”  She turns in all directions, searching.  She whirls and whirls, but there’s no one but her and then she feels a hand at her wrist and she gasps.

“This way,” Mulder says, tugging her with him to the right.

“Mulder, did you…?”

“What is it?”  He glances back at her, but doesn’t stop moving her through the twists and turns of the maze.

“I thought I saw…”  

“What did you see?”

“Nothing.  Nevermind.”

They exit out of the mirrors to a set of stairs, half the steps on one side, half on the other.  Both sides move up and down in opposite ways.  When the footholds on the right move up, the footholds on the left move down and vice versa.  Mulder grabs onto the rails and heads up with ease.  Scully, still a little shaky from the mirrors, takes a little longer to climb up.

They move through an alley of spinning floor tiles and have to push through more punching bags until they come to a platform overlooking the entirety of the carnival.  They stand together at the ledge, silently watching from above.

“What did you mean when you said I was barely here?” she asks.

Mulder takes his time answering.  He stares out at the carnival and then he finally turns and looks at her.  “You’re here physically,” he says.  “You show up.  You do your job.  I’m just not sure you’re altogether present.  I’m not sure you want to be back on the x-files.”

“How can you say that?  Mulder, how can you say that after everything we’ve been through to get them back?”

Mulder holds up his hand in defense and shakes his head.  “Correction.  I’m not sure you want to be back on the x-files with me.”

“Oh.”  Scully looks away and out at the blinking lights and activity below.

“I notice you’re not disagreeing with me on that front.”

“I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“I wouldn’t blame you.  But, if you don’t trust me-”

“Dammit, Mulder, why is it always about whether or not I trust you?  What if the problem is you not trusting me?”

“Of course I trust you.”

“No, you don’t.  You trust Agent Fowley, but you don’t trust me.”

“I thought we were past this.”

“Apparently we’re not.”

Mulder grips the railing tightly and hunches his body as he lowers his head.  He stands up again after a few moments and blows air from his puffed cheeks.

“Would you rather have her as your partner?” Scully asks.  She’s been terrified to find out the answer to this question and so she’s been avoiding asking it, but it feels like a breaking point.

“Diana is gone.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”  

Scully turns and walks away from the platform.  She balls her hands into fists and shakes the tension out of her shoulders as she crosses the final gauntlet of rollers across the floor.  Without stopping to check on Mulder or wait for him to catch up, she crouches down and pulls herself into the spiral slide and lands on the mat at the bottom.

Standing with her back to the exit and her arms crossed, Scully waits for Mulder to come out.  A little boy and a little girl tumble out of the slide together before he does.  He pats dust from his knees and then they wordlessly walk away.  They head down a street of games promising oversized teddy bears for guessing the weight of an object or being able to ring a bell with the strength of the swing of a sledgehammer.  There’s a magic booth and a dunk tank.  Mulder diligently holds up the photo of Faye Rawlings at each station with no success.

They reach the small tent of Madam Zarina, Fortunes Told and Read.  An older woman with black, curly hair and olive skin sits outside.  She’s wearing silk scarves and a long, flowing skirt and gold hoop earrings and Scully thinks she looks the epitome of a cliche.

“Would you be Madam Zarina?” Mulder asks the woman, pulling his badge out of his pocket.

“I am Madam Zarina,” she answers.  

“We’re looking for a missing girl.”

“Come, come,” Madam Zarina beckons, pulling back the beaded curtain into her tent.  “I have something to tell you.”

“Ma’am my name is Agent Mulder, this is my partner, Agent Scully.”

“This way,” she answers.

Mulder steps into the tent and Scully reluctantly follows.  There are small bells attached to Madam Zarina’s skirt that tinkle lightly as she swishes past them to a small, round table covered with a blue cloth.  In the center is a crystal ball and a stack of tarot cards.

Scully remembers her sister Melissa dragging her to a psychic once in Venice Beach.  Melissa was a senior in high school at the time, eager to get out of the house, eager to start her life, and she was desperate for someone to tell her she was going to fulfill all her wildest dreams, which, at that time, had included being allowed to feather her hair like Farrah Fawcett which their father had expressly forbidden, wearing bellbottoms to school instead of her stuffy Catholic school uniform, backpacking through Europe as soon as she graduated, and becoming the next Sonny & Cher with her boyfriend, Todd.  

Melissa had excitedly plunked down a five dollar bill for the disappointing news that she was an unhappy girl that would never settle.  Still, though, she had taken it as a sign that she needed to be in more control of her destiny and as a result, quit school a short time later and she and Todd jumped on a flight to Spain only to break up two weeks later and part ways at a hostel in Italy.  Melissa was back in San Diego within a month, but she never regretted it, not for a minute.  

On that day, Melissa had also convinced Scully to reluctantly part with her hard-earned babysitting money and have her own reading done.  And she hadn’t forgotten what the stern-looking woman with the cigarette hanging off her lip, dropping ashes onto the table every time she spoke, said to her.  ‘You feel you are destined for greatness.  But, you’ll never reach it unless you stand up for yourself.  Don’t let anyone tell you what path to take.’  She’d remembered it when she was considering joining the FBI, but it had been a long time since she’d thought about it.

“Sit, sit,” Madam Zarina says, pointing to the two chairs in front of her.

“We’re with the FBI,” Mulder says, holding out his photo of Faye Rawlings.  “I want to know if you’ve seen this little girl at all.”

“Are you sure that’s what you’ve come here for?”

“Pretty sure.  Not much of a psychic, are you?”  Mulder snorts, tucking his badge and the picture back into his breast pocket.

“I read fortunes, I don’t claim visions of the future.”

“What’s the difference?” Scully asks.

“You have a question, the cards will tell you the answers.  I tell you what the cards say.”

“I don’t suppose you can activate that crystal ball there and let me show my photo to it, can you?” Mulder asks, flippantly.

Madam Zarina narrows her eyes a little and then with a flourish, removes her wig to reveal thinning, mousy brown hair.  She drops the wig over the back of her chair and then pulls off her clip-on earrings as well.

“People like the show.  They think a fortune teller is a gypsy, and that this is what a gypsy looks like.  You think anyone wants their cards read by Phyllis Davidson from Stillwater, Kansas?  Or the dark and mysterious Madam Zarina?”

“Sorry to have wasted your time,” Mulder answers.

“I’d like a reading,” Scully says.

Mulder turns to Scully with his brows raised.  Scully ignores him and slips into one of the chairs.  After a few moments of hesitation, Mulder sits in the other.

“Ten dollars,” Phyllis says.

Scully moves to get her wallet, but Mulder beats her to it and waves her hands away, slipping the bill over to the fortune teller.  Phyllis folds the bill and slips it inside the front of her shirt, tucking it under her bra strap.  She slides the stack of tarot cards over to Scully.  They’re larger than playing cards, well-worn and soft.  The cover is a faded navy blue background with gilded sun, stars, and moons printed on them.

“Shuffle the cards in whatever way you feel comfortable with,” Phyllis instructs.  “When you’re finished, place them face-down here on the table.  While you’re shuffling, think of what you’d like the cards to tell you.  Is there something you’re fearful about?  Is a relationship causing you trouble?  Do you need career advice?”

“I’d like to know how to repair a fractured partnership,” Scully says, picking up the cards.  “If it’s even salvageable.”

Phyllis nods and Scully shuffles.  Mulder shifts uncomfortably in his chair.  When Scully is done, she sets the cards down and takes a glance at Mulder.  He is nervously stroking his mouth and chin.

“With your left hand, fan the cards across the table and then choose the first card from anywhere that feels right.  Pull a total of five cards and give them to me.”

Scully does as she’s told and then slides a card out from the fanned pile.  She hands it to Phyllis who positions it in front of her.  She selects four more, giving each of them to the woman across the table, one by one, after she slides them out.  The cards are ordered with three across, one at the top, and one at the bottom.  Phyllis turns the card in the middle.  It’s a colorful drawing that Scully can’t quite make out.

“The Page of Swords is telling me that you feel what you’re not getting right now is honesty.  The truth is very important to you, something you value, and what you’d really like from your partner.”

Scully licks the curve of her upper lip, but says nothing.  Beside her, Mulder begins to bounce his knee.  Phyllis turns the card left of the middle.

“The Moon is telling me you feel you’ve been deceived in some way.  You feel that what you once believed to be true was an illusion and that is keeping you from moving forward right now.”

Scully nods a little, unconsciously.  Phyllis turns the card to the right.

“The Five of Cups.”  Phyllis pauses and takes a glance at Scully.  “In this instance, the card is reversed, which is a good sign.  It means that whatever happens, you will be able to find forgiveness and acceptance, regardless of outcome.”

“What does that mean, regardless of outcome?” Mulder asks.

“Whether the partnership is repaired or if it remains fractured, she may grieve the loss of something that once was, but ultimately move on and be free of negativity.”

The fourth card Phyllis turns over is obvious the second Scully sees it.

“The Devil,” Phyllis says, shaking her head in dismay.  “This reinforces the strong feelings you have about being deceived.  Someone has driven a powerful wedge into your partnership.  This person is inherently dishonest, not to be trusted.  The root cause of how you feel and it appears as though you have every reason to be wary.”

Scully can’t help but feel disappointed with this answer.  What it means to her is that as long as Diana Fowley is out there, the wedge between herself and Mulder will exist.  Not that she needs a fortune teller to give her that information, but it makes it sink in just a little more.

“Oh,” Phyllis says, turning the last card.  “This is good news.  The Star.  What The Star tells me here is that after the struggle is over, you will be left with a renewed sense of self and of faith.  When you come out onto the other side of what’s currently making you feel so uncertain, you’re going to know yourself much better and enter a phase of calm, one that will be peaceful and loving.  This is very good.”

Scully is relieved, almost pleased.  She’s been so caught up in anger and turmoil lately that she couldn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel.  Even though she really doesn’t believe in fortune telling, she still finds herself comforted by what she’s heard.

“Thank you, Phyllis,” Scully says, standing.

Phyllis sweeps the cards up and pulls them back together in a stack.  Mulder stands as well and follows Scully through the curtain and out of the tent.

“Well,” he says.  “That was certainly...interesting.  You don’t actually believe in all that stuff back there, do you, Scully?”

“Of course not,” she says.  “They see what people are interested in and then just tell them what they think we want to hear.”

“Is that...is that what you wanted to hear?”

Scully stops walking and Mulder stops as well.  She looks up at him.  The flashing lights of the Gravitron play across his face.  The screams of thrill-seekers make it difficult to hear.

“What I want to hear isn’t going to come from a fortune teller,” she says.

“You want me to tell you that I choose you over Diana.”

“You make me sound like a jealous girlfriend.”

“You honesty, right, Scully?  Sometimes, that’s how it feels.”

“Jesus, I don’t want to have this conversation in the middle of a carnival!”

“I don’t think you want to have it at all!”

“Mulder, mere weeks ago you wouldn’t even hear me out when I handed you proof that Agent Fowley did not have your best interests or the best interests of the x-files at heart.  You refused to hear anything to the contrary.”

“Because you weren’t showing me proof of anything.  All you had was conjecture.”

“I have plenty of proof, you’re just unwilling to connect the dots.”

“You’re seeing what you want to see.”

“Then tell me, Mulder, where is she now?  She wasn’t amongst the bodies found at El Rico airforce base, so where is she?  And where is the Cancerman?  It doesn’t strike you as suspicious that they are the only two people unaccounted for after the massacre?”

“I don’t know where they are, but I know I’m not going to jump to any conclusions.”

“Then you’re just blind to what you don’t want to see.”

They seem to reach an impasse.  Scully has said everything that needs to be said about Diana Fowley and she’s tired of even thinking about her.  She looks away, puts her hands on her hips, licks her lips.  People pass them by lost in their own excitement, paying them no mind.  She’s embarrassed by the outburst, but feels less angry than she has been.  She feels a little more melancholy also.

“I choose you,” Mulder says, brushing a knuckle lightly under her chin to get her to look at him.  “I choose you, Scully.  I want you here.  I want you as my partner.  I just don’t know how to make you believe it.”

“You can’t choose me and refuse to trust my judgment,” she answers, pulling her chin away.  “It doesn’t work like that.”

“We won’t work if you keep punishing me because I disagree with you about Diana.”

“You’re right.”

“So, what do you want to do?”

“I want…”  Scully breaks off, unable to articulate what she really feels.  She wants to know that her importance in Mulder’s life means as much to him as he does to her, but in this moment, she’s unwilling to make herself more vulnerable than she already has.

“Scully?”

“I just want to do the job,” she answers, lowering her gaze.  “I want to get back on track with our work and I want us to be on the same page again.”

“Oh, is that all?”  Mulder smiles a little, trying to catch her eye.  “When exactly have we ever been on the same page to begin with?  I’m always like, Scully, obviously Leprechauns have committed this crime, and you’re always like, Mulder, you’re crazy.”

Scully smiles a little in spite of herself and scuffs her boot into the sawdust at her feet.  “Leprechauns don’t exist, Mulder.”

“See, there we go.  Back on track already.”

Their problems aren’t going to be solved in one night, but at least they can put them aside to focus on the task at hand.  That’s something she feels they can do.  There is one more thing she feels like she needs to say, though.  As Mulder starts to walk away, she grabs his arm and pulls him back.

“When we were in the Fun House, I thought I saw Faye Rawlings,” she says.  “In the hall of mirrors.”

“You saw her?”

“I thought I did.  And then when I looked again, she was gone.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I don’t know.  Because I felt scared and foolish and I know my mind was just playing tricks on me.  Because I don’t believe we’re going to find a 12-year old girl out here no matter how hard we look.  And, I don’t think you do either.”

Mulder nods slightly.  “I know it’s implausible, I just…”

“You want to hold on to that hope.”

He swallows and nods again.

“I know you, Mulder.”

“Do you want to get out of here?”

“Yeah, I do.”

On the way out, Mulder gives the rest of his tickets to a little girl on her way in, holding the hand of what appears to be an older brother.

The End

[jemfisch]

⌠ MASON GOODING, 21, CISMALE, HE/HIM ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, JEREMY “JEM” FISCHMAN II! according to their records, they’re a SECOND YEAR year, specializing in ADVANCED ENCRYPTION & “MACGUYVER” SURVIVAL SKILLS AND NAVIGATION; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (old hip hop blaring from headphones, a broken crtv with the cords ripped out and repurposed, the smell of spray paint graffiti, brightly colored shirts with 80s patterns). when it’s the (cancer)’s birthday on 06/23/99, they always request their ICE CREAM SANDWICHES from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿ kati, 24, she/her, est ⍀ @gallagherintro

STATS / PINTEREST / CONNECTIONS / CLASSES

INSPIRATION

fox mulder (the x files)

hogarth hughes (the iron giant)

will turner (pirates of the carribean)

robin hood

george weasley (harry potter)

aladdin

spike spiegel (cowboy bebop)

mark watney (the martian)

BACKGROUND + CLICK FOR BIO

his parents were high school sweethearts and married just before they attended college at harvard together, securing careers at the kennedy space center. 

jeremy fischman sr dies under mysterious circumstances in a lab accident and ellen is twenty-eight and left alone to raise baby jem. things only go downhill from here. jeremy was the love of her life and she becomes obsessed with his disappearance and all kinds of conspiracy theories, blows a bunch of her money. it doesn’t take long for her to be fired, savings blown on expensive equipment or sunk into internet hoaxes

they move to a rough neighborhood in gainesville where jem grows up. he likes jem, not jeremy, jeremy is his father. he’s never experienced the perfect life his parents used to live, the white picket fence, the shiny space shuttles. he’s only got this, and honestly, he doesn’t hate it. 

the neighborhood’s rough, but there’s a lot of fun characters, and his mom is practically his best friend – aside from his next-door neighbor, NOAH WARD.

jem’s mom does odd hacking jobs from the comfort of their home. some of them are shadier than others, she makes connections with a lot of private investigators in town and looks into people’s cheating husbands and tracks down birth parents and missing people. she does pro bono work too, a kindhearted woman, she can never say no to those in need, even if she’s not so fortunate herself. as jem gets older, he learns everything that he knows from her

every summer vacation growing up, jem and his mom would pack their bags and make home in a camper van, traveling across the country. in some ways, this was great mother-son bonding, but this wasn’t why they did it. his mom never gave up looking for the truth about her husband,  but hacking into secure, top-secret government databases is nothing like hacking into the gainesville city hall, it’s hard work, and they travel around the country methodically so that their signal cannot be traced. every summer they get close, but never close enough.

when noah moves away for college, jem stays home. he’s not comfortable leaving his mom. 

he keeps up with hacking jobs and keeping up with looking for his dad on the side. he doesn’t think they’ll ever find him, his mom holds out hope but jem is eighteen years old and a bit more jaded now, he figures the guy’s just really dead and well, the conspiracy of it all matters less and less when he knows that either way, he’s still grown up without him. 

a lot of jem’s social life is online, whether it’s friends from hacking forums or via soundcloud.

when he’s not hacking, he’s making music. his passions of technology and music mix and he creates his own beats and soundcloud, mashing together songs, and even putting together a popular meme track or two used on tiktok. 

it’s actually a bit lucrative, but that’s not why he does it. doesn’t even really use his name, catch him on soundcloud…username? uncutjems.

every time he and his mom get close to finding his dad, there’s just more to do, and it’s almost like someone KNOWS what they’re doing. 

jem’s right about that – he is being watched. since noah’s admission to gallagher, recruiters have been aware of the boy who taught her everything she knew. 

when gallagher makes the choice to start allowing male students, an agent shows up at his door offering him a once in a lifetime chance at a free education. 

jem doesn’t have any strong ambition to go into espionage, per say, but he won’t say no to advanced classes taught by some of the world’s brightest minds – and a chance to reunite with his best friend. however, he hasn’t stopped trying to get into the government’s records and still has ambitions of going into music production.

PERSONALITY. 

INTUITIVE. jem has a natural intuition about things and he trusts himself and his own opinions about things. i suppose you could perceive this as confidence, but honestly he’s just really SMART, good at absorbing facts even subconsciously and putting things together about people or situations. in a sense, he has a habit of being correct – he definitely comes off as intelligent, even though his grades in school have never been very good. he just has different priorities. 

LOYAL. make a friend out of jem and you have a friend for life, he’ll take your secrets to the grade and he’s pretty trustworthy. he’s the type of guy that gets along with pretty much everyone but he has a few select, close friends because he is somewhat intentional about the company that he keeps. he’s friendly and kind, but he keeps his inner circle of people he trusts close and somewhat exclusive. 

PROTECTIVE. kind of has papa bear energy, you know ? maybe the dad friend of your friend group, but in a laid back way, he might not seem like he’s the type to spring into action but call someone close to him a rude name and you’ll see his fist coming at your face. he’s protective but not possessive, i guess is how i would describe it, but i think he gives pretty good advice as well because he’s really hoping the best for ppl. 

MALINGERING. jem is kind of a SLACKER! at least, that’s what teachers have called him in the past, he simply does not dream of labor. he’s just kind of doing his own thing, will fake sick to skip a class, whatever else, even though he likes producing music he doesn’t really have a great ambition for anything, spy or otherwise. as long as he has a good computer setup, then he’s fucking chilling. 

MOODY. he’s laid back to the umpteenth degree when it comes to work or obligations, but he does have sort of mood swings, i guess he’s the sort of person that you would describe as grumpy at times ? definitely NOT a morning person and when he’s in an off mood, he can be hard to interact with or snap out of. 

DISORGANIZED. the sort of person to throw his stuff across the bed or leave piles of clothes on the floor to deal with later, maybe he’s not your favorite roommate for this reason. he has a habit of losing things that he just set down or whatever, things like that. 

HEADCANONS.

tbh you can think of him like...beca in pitch perfect ! he’s here bc he was offered a free education and he’s cool with that, but he’d rather be pursuing a future in music. a damn good hacker, though, and the gallagher recruiters are hoping that with some ‘ambition’ he’ll want to work for the government someday. 

played baseball throughout middle and high school and he’s fairly athletic – he can get pretty competitive when he plays, it kind of brings out a side in him that most people don’t expect to see because he’s fairly chilled out most of the time 

a boss with a slingshot. there is no reason for this, but he had one as a kid and he used to chase squirrels away from the bird feeders outside their home. he has great eyesight and his aim is great, but it’s literally the only weapon he’s proficient in

he’s not tiktok famous for his face, but he has two tiktok famous songs...he’s made like 12k in record deals for selling the rights, it’s just the kind of shit that he does goofing around in music software and he has a good ear for what is going to be catchy

he’s NOT a morning person, definitely a late night kind of guy, will stay up until all hours just fucking around on the computer and then he’ll sleep until 1 or 2pm, at least. getting up for morning classes is a struggle for them and he has slept through them on occasion.

funky sweaters, crazy socks, fun-patterned shirts, he dresses a bit like a circus tent at times, but you can’t say that he doesn’t have style – he dresses well, but it’s like he’s stepped out of a 90s cartoon or something

if he makes u a playlist he either wants to be ur friend so fucking bad or he’s head over heels in love with u

really likes making new things with old technology, he loves taking the macguyver courses and learning new things and he’s actually built his own computer and a lot of his own musical instruments 

usually has a couple bandaids because he’s a bit accident prone or can lose his focus when working in the lab. when he gets in his own head while working on a project, he literally cannot hear anything else – sort of selective hearing

likes fucking around with spray paint, if he can, he’s got a bit of an artistic streak and he doodles stickers on sticker paper sometimes. you can probably catch his tag around campus or even stuck to the latops of his close friends, it’s just a little man with a tv for a head. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

HACKING JOBS – if you STILL need a hacker for any of your wild backstory connections, jem is a great bet. he’s been doing paid jobs for people professionally since he could type, and he’s sort of an ace at getting in and out without leaving a trace...and he’s no gossip. so, your secrets would be safe with him. 

SMOKING BUDDIES – people that he can smoke up with, talk about life, talk about the bullshit of gallagher, but also people he can laugh with that don’t make him feel stressed or concerned about the future. 

MUSIC MAKING BUDDIES – if your character makes music, maybe they can collaborate on something...we’re about to drop the hottest mixtape of all time right here at gallagher academy i will teach myself garageband for this shit...jk but maybe

EX ON BAD TERMS – someone he dated last year...i’m imagining it was their first year and things were really great for the first semester, but shit fell apart second semester along with the school. maybe all the drama on campus caused distance, maybe he wasn’t there for them when they needed it, or maybe they got jealous of the way he always prioritizes noah ? a combination of things, we can hash out the details since i know some of you had some pretty angsty things going on second sem, and maybe it’s awkward now because it feels like there’s unfinished biz. 

EX ON GOOD TERMS / LOVERS TO FRIENDS – maybe someone that was a rebound and things didn’t really work and they saw that, maybe he wasn’t over his ex or whatever but they were able to stay friends ? it’s up to you how your muse feels about it but i want an ex that jem also has no hard feels about and actually is maybe sort of protective of them and cares a lot about them finding happiness, they bonded hardcore. 

EX-FLING – idk maybe they were hooking up for a while and then one of them started seeing someone else or one of them caught feels so they don’t hook up any more but it was super fun when they did !! also down for it to have been like a summer fling and once the summer ended. 

BROS – idk i would like for him to have a squad or something for him to just fuck around with <3 but it’s wholesome and they respect women

ONLINE FRIEND (ANONYMOUS) – he spent a lot of time on forums online and stuff so i’d love for him to have an online friend !! maybe cute if they just know each other by their screen names rn and we can do a bunch of text chats and maybe they both know they go to gallagher but they simply. haven’t met idk

ONLINE FRIENDS – also friends he met online that aren’t anonymous they could’ve met through any number of forums but probably have similar interests like music or hacking so they’re long time homies , someone he’s known almost as long as noah

ONE NIGHT STAND – self explanatory. maybe they’re super good friends and now it’s kind of awkward now and they want to get back to a place of normalcy but it’s simply not normal, maybe they fucked things up by breakin the tension on like. halloween or some shit. 

FRIENDZONED – someone jem accidentally friendzoned and maybe he doesn’t even realize it himself but they had a thing for him and he really just didn’t realize it bc he can’t tell unless you spell it out for him.

CLASS RIVALS – someone who tries really hard and cares about class a bunch vs. jem who doesn’t give a fuck but he keeps making the grade without really trying, so they’re ? bitter about it ? and so the two really do not hit it off because of that and they go back and forth , i just rly want a classroom rivalry. maybe even this rivalry and them nagging him actually motivates to try in the class just to piss them off 

 ENEMY – this person shared a secret with jem and then it somehow got out on the gossip blog idk ! they think jem told and now they hate him. 

anything pls let’s chat !

[slippinmickeys]

Of the Eight Winds, Part 6

This is part six in who knows how many from the prompt from @sunflowerseedsandscience : “Mulder is unhappily married when Scully is partnered with him, and while he doesn’t cheat (because sorry that’s not romantic), he falls for her so hard that he finally gets the courage to end the marriage and start fresh.”

Links to parts one, two, three, four and five.

1

Mulder’s mother-in-law was sick. Terminal cancer, from what Scully gathered from the little he talked about it. He was gone a lot, accompanying Lauren back and forth between her parent’s house in Newport News and the hospital and home.

Their basement office felt cold, empty without him in it. She felt like every small noise she made echoed off the walls. One Friday, she left early, unable to stand it any longer.

She went home, but felt alone there, too. She drifted out into her neighborhood, the warm sun of the afternoon laying long shadows through the streets.

There was a farmer’s market set up a few blocks from her apartment— an entire block’s worth of a street closed off, with tented stalls lining both sides of the road, selling everything from fresh eggs to flowers to jewelry.

She was looking through the selection of breads and baked goods on the edge of one of the stalls when she felt a light tug on bottom of the sundress she had changed into. She looked down to find a small black feline paw had reached through the bars of the cage in the next stall and had hooked a claw into her dress. Her laugh alerted one of the women working the rescue group’s stall, who rushed over to help release her from the kitten’s grasp, with an “oh honestly, Trouble.”

“His name is Trouble?” Scully asked, laughing.

“Her,” the woman said, smiling at the little black fluff affectionately, “she’s sweet but has an excess of personality.”

“How old is she?” Scully asked.

“Ten weeks,” the woman answered, then narrowed her eyes, seeing a prospective cat rescuer suddenly in her midst. “Here,” she went on, handing Scully a feather-on-a-stick cat toy, “play with her. She’s a hoot.”

Scully bobbed the toy about Trouble’s head, who took one swat at it and then jumped into the air and caught it, growling like a dog. Scully laughed, delighted.

“She plays fetch, too,” said the woman, who was still hovering nearby.

“You’re kidding,” Scully said, tugging on the feather, which Trouble refused to give up.

“I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” the woman said, “wadded up paper ball. And when she brings it back, she drops it better than my retriever ever does.”

Scully was thoroughly charmed.

“You in the market for a new friend?” the woman asked with a smile.

“Oh! No, not really.”

“Well, we’ll be here if you change your mind. Our rescue group has a stall at the Farmer’s Market on Tuesdays and Fridays.”

Scully smiled at the woman and turned away, thinking of buying a bag of apples and a bouquet of flowers.

“Miss?” the woman said, and Scully turned back to look at her, “Trouble won’t be here long. The cute ones get adopted quick.”  

Scully smiled indulgently and walked on. On her return trip through the market to head home, carrying a bag of greens, two cartons of strawberries and a small bouquet of yellow calla lilies, she saw a small girl playing with Trouble and a slightly larger orange tabby kitten. The girl’s parents were standing a few feet away and the girl turned to them. “I want the orange one,” she told them.

Scully was insulted on Trouble’s behalf. It was no fun coming in second. She veered back toward the cage and stuck a finger through the bars. Trouble rubbed her face against her finger and sat down, purring.

“Can I get an adoption application please?” Scully said then, and found that the woman was already behind her with a clipboard and a pen. The woman winked.

Two hours later she tumbled into her apartment laden with her haul from the farmer’s market, twenty five pounds of kitty accoutrements and a cardboard cat carrier that had little black paws popping out of the holes in the top.

She opened it up and looked down at its lone occupant, who sat, looking back at her, as prim and proper as a posy. She looked like a ball of black puff with two green eyes, as round as the moon.

“We’re going to change your name, Trouble,” Scully said, “A friend of mine once told me about self-fulfilling prophecies.”

2

Scully didn’t go to Lauren’s mother’s funeral, but she did send flowers. She tried to strike the right tone with the arrangement, somewhere between work acquaintance and best friend, and leaned into one that was more on this side of ostentatious than not.

She got a thank you card from Lauren, but it was written in Mulder’s scrawling hand.

3

Scully had voiced a craving for a mid-afternoon latte, and the day was bright and clear, the first in almost a week. He volunteered to accompany her to a nearby coffee shop.

He waited in the back of the shop next to a stack of high chairs and a small creamer station dusted with spilled Sweet’N Low and cinnamon. He watched as she gave her order to the barista, laughing at something the girl had said as she handed over her money. Her face shone amongst the other patrons, brighter and clearer than anyone else’s. It was like she alone was in focus, everyone else in the world walking in an ill-defined blur.

Why had he waited so long, he wondered. Some misplaced sense of loyalty? Things with Lauren had always gone from bad to worse, waiting certainly hadn’t made them better. It wasn’t to spare Lauren’s feelings. It certainly wasn’t to spare his own.

Scully turned from where she stood in line and caught his eye. She smiled at him with a radiance that hit him square in the solar plexus.

How many years had he wasted? How many breaths had he taken, how many nights spent alone in a bed of two?

He smiled back at her, a delicious ache in his chest.

4

Their first meeting with Skinner after Mulder informed him of their relationship was a budgetary meeting. Kimberly smiled at them in a knowing way when they walked into the front part of Skinner’s office, at which Scully blushed. Mulder wondered vaguely how much Skinner and his assistant talked.

Just before Skinner adjourned the meeting of roughly ten people, he said “Please consider this a reminder to make sure your current address, emergency contact information, and any other pertinent personnel file data is updated and filed with Human Resources.”

Mulder shot a look to Scully, who shot a look back.

The skin at the base of his left ring finger was bare but indented with years long pressure.

5

One morning, Mulder woke up to find Blackwell sitting on his chest, the end of her fat, fluffy tail twitching slowly up, keeping time like a metronome. The cat regarded him coolly for minute, then yawned once and flopped down to lay atop him, purring gently.

Scully awoke about ten minutes later and cracked a sleepy eye to look at the domestic tableau before her.

She smiled.

“She likes you,” she said.

“I have a way with women,” he rumbled, scratching a nail under the cat’s chin.

“I’ll remember that the next time she needs her claws trimmed,” Scully said, stretching.

Mulder considered the animal.

“Why did you name your cat Blackwell?” he asked.

“Have you heard of Elizabeth Blackwell?” she asked back. He shook his head. “She was the first woman to graduate from Medical School in the United States,” she said.

He nodded, running his hand along the velvet coat of the black cat.

“Perfect,” he said. Blackwell purred. So did Scully.

6

He had dreams. Terrible dreams. He dreamt that he hadn’t made it in time to the top of Skyland Mountain. He dreamt that Melissa had been shot dead in Scully’s doorway. Dreams where he showed up at the hospital to visit Lauren’s mother and found Scully in her bed.

In the mornings, he woke to find Scully next to him and pulled her close. She generally woke when he did this, but never once complained.

7

Blackwell had stopped growling when playing with toys after a week or two of living with Scully, but would still occasionally play fetch. Mulder was so taken with the idea of a dog-like cat, he offered to open an X-File on her and swore he would teach her tricks.

True to his word, as the years passed, Mulder taught Blackwell several, including a high five, “speak” and a version of “play dead” in which he would pull an imaginary service weapon (complete with correct form and safety procedures) say “bang” and over she would keel. True her status as a feline, Blackwell would perform these tricks only five times out of ten, which Scully did have to admit, was pretty good.

On a lazy Sunday morning when Lily was nine months old, Mulder, Scully and their daughter were whiling away in their rumpled bed (Mulder with a book, Scully with a crossword, Lily with an orange teether) when Mulder set the book down on his bedside table and turned to Scully.

“Lily and I taught Blackwell a new trick,” he said.

Scully set down the newspaper and pencil where Lily couldn’t get to them and turned toward him.

“I’d like to see it,” she said, smiling.

“What do you think, Lil?” Mulder said to the baby who babbled a bit in response, a string of drool sliding down to soak into her already damp onesie.

Mulder nodded, pursed his lips and whistled.

A light tinkling sound came down the hallway, and Blackwell jumped up easily onto the bed and sauntered up to Mulder to give him a gentle headbutt.

Scully clapped softly.

“She comes when whistled for now? I’m impressed.”

Mulder pet the cat affectionately and then looped a finger underneath the cat’s collar to bring it up and over her fur.

“And check out the new accessory,” Mulder said.

Scully clicked her fingers and Blackwell walked over to her.

“A new collar, I see,” Scully, said, eyeing the new black collar with equal parts humor and distaste -- it had a repeating pattern of alien heads and ufos.

Mulder nodded as Blackwell sat in front of Scully and then he thrust his chin up and towards the cat.

“That’s not all,” he said, “check out the hardware.”

Lily made a grab for the cat, but was scooped up by her father who lifted her to his shoulder as Scully leaned down to take a closer look at Blackwell’s new collar. Where the bell usually was, hung a platinum ring with three diamonds and an aged patina. Scully sucked in a breath and fingered it, flicking her eyes to Mulder, who looked at her with affection.

“What do you think, Scully? Make an honest man out of me?”

Blackwell sat patiently as Scully unhooked her collar and slid the ring off of it. She held it in her palm, her eyes shining.

“Was this…?” she said, and Mulder knew what she was asking.

“It was the ring I gave to Lauren,” he said, “it was my grandmother’s. She returned it to me a few months ago. She thought you should have it.”

Scully smiled sadly.

Mulder rushed on.

“I understand if you would rather not wear it. I’d be happy to buy you a new one. But I wanted to give you the option. Mulder women have been wearing this ring for close to a hundred years. It maybe doesn’t have the best mojo, but…”

“I love it,” Scully said, as Lily reached up and patted at Mulder’s cheeks. Scully slid it over her finger and it seemed to fit perfectly.

“So is that a yes?” Mulder asked, nuzzling their daughter’s head.

“It’s a yes,” Scully smiled. “And Mulder?”

He looked at her.

“I don’t believe in mojo.”

8

They buried Blackwell under the dogwood tree in their backyard, eleven year old Lily crying into her mother’s shoulder. Eight year old William, who had inherited his mother’s stoicism and his grandmother’s stiff upper lip stood next to them, watching his father blankly as he patted the soil flat with the back of a shovel.

“She was good cat,” William said somberly, and Mulder reached out and pulled him into a hug. He could feel a wet spot start to soak into his shirt.

“She was, buddy,” he said, and swung his eyes to Scully, who was absently rubbing Lily’s back, her eyes still on the ground. “I think maybe we should celebrate her life with ice cream, what do you say?”

William snuffled loudly, wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

“Vanilla, dad?” he said on another sniffle, “chocolate is bad for cats.”

Scully finally cracked a smile.

“It’s what she would have wanted,” she said, and tucked a strand of bright red hair tenderly behind Lily’s ear.

A blossom detached from the tree and fell gently to the ground, landing softly on the freshly turned earth.

[numinousmysteries]

B'Sha'ah Tovah

@eightnightsofmulder

@today-in-fic

Eight Nights of Mulder Day Eight: Light

[on Ao3]

Note: I had so much fun participating in this challenge and reading everyone else's wonderful work. Thank you @welsharcher, @agent-troi, and @randomfoggytiger for organizing!

December 2000

The crowds in the Hoover building thin out as the holidays approach. Hanukkah starts tomorrow and Christmas is next week, but for Scully time stopped months ago when Mulder disappeared in the woods of Oregon. 

The life growing within her is the only bittersweet reminder that the days march on. It doesn’t feel right for anything to flourish while she’s enveloped in darkness.

She wants it all to pause until Mulder returns. But life perseveres. Her hair grows faster and thicker, her heart beats harder as it works to pump more blood through her body, and her belly is starting to protrude. Her stubborn, miraculous baby keeps growing and making its presence known against all odds. Just like its father.

He’s missed so much already. She’s nearly halfway through her pregnancy and it doesn’t make sense that Mulder isn’t here to experience it alongside her. As an investigator, she knows the more time goes by, the less likely it is he’ll be found alive. But as his partner, his best friend, and his lover, she also knows the widely accepted figures and statistics do not apply to Fox Mulder.

She spends more and more time in the office. Only here does she feel like she’s upholding her unspoken promises—to never stop looking for him and to never give up on his work. The more time passes since his abduction, though, the more it feels like she’s spinning her wheels. She’s in constant contact with the Lone Gunmen but they’ve all but admitted the chatter on abductees in rural Oregon has dried up. There have been no reports of a man who fits his description wandering into a hospital or turning up at a morgue in months.

So she crisscrosses the country with her new partner hunting down humanoid bats and parasitic slugs, telling herself it’s what Mulder would have wanted. Ironically, if he were here, he’d tell her to go home, to rest, to take care of the baby and herself, but he isn’t here. 

Now that it’s winter, she comes in before sunrise and stays long after sunset. Surrounded by his yellowing news clippings, file cabinets of notes written in his indecipherable (to all but her) scrawl, and array of trinkets and memorabilia, this is where she feels closest to him. Holed up in the basement, she lives in darkness.

Doggett is out for the week and she cherishes the time she can spend in the office on her own. He’s been a good partner, but sharing this space with anyone else but Mulder feels like a betrayal. Even Skinner left early for the day. He came down to the basement to tell her he’d be out until late next week and wished her a happy holiday. He does things like that now–checks in on her. She just nodded, gave him a tight-lipped smile, and wished him well. 

She declined her mother’s invitation to join her at Bill’s in San Diego for Christmas this year, and when Maggie offered to stay back in DC with her, she begged her not to. If she can’t be with him, she only wants to be alone. 

It’s getting late, even for her, but she isn’t ready to go home. Her apartment is too quiet and empty.

To bide the time before she can sleep, she walks around the downtown shopping district. She likes the anonymity it provides. Here, she can be just another woman doing last-minute Christmas shopping. 

There’s an upscale baby and children’s clothes boutique that she often walks past but doesn’t dare go inside. It’s full of beautiful but expensive and impractical items like dry-clean only cashmere sweaters that will inevitably be covered in spit up, drool, and mashed up food. There’s nothing she would ever buy but she knows Mulder wouldn’t be able to resist the impossibly small pieces. She imagines rolling her eyes, but smiling, as he drapes tiny onesies over her belly and insists on spending hundreds of dollars on clothing their baby will outgrow in a matter of months.

She hasn’t bought anything useful or necessary for the baby, either. It wouldn’t be right to do it without him. Her mother keeps asking if she wants help cleaning out her second bedroom for the nursery, but she still imagines that there will be time to do it with Mulder once he’s back. “Once,” she repeats to herself. Never “if.”

Down the block from the children’s shop is a small Judaica store she hadn’t noticed before. A warm glow of light emanates from inside and she’s drawn to pull the door open. 

She’s the only customer inside. The store is full of merchandise—intricately carved mezuzahs, Kiddush cups, servingware, and a wall of books in Hebrew and English—but it feels cozy, not crowded.

An older woman with wiry gray hair and black-frame glasses stands at the register near a glass case of jewelry. “Let me know if you need help with anything,” she says as Scully surveys the shelves. 

She finds a small selection of menorahs and examines them one by one. There’s one made from shiny silver with inlaid blue stones, and another angular, more modern style. Then her eyes land on a small brass menorah. It’s tarnished in spots but still catches the light. Tiny olive leaves are sculpted along the branches.

“We’re a little picked over,” the woman calls over to her. “Last minute and all, you know?”

Scully smiles and nods at her. “This one is beautiful,” she says, picking up the brass menorah. It feels solid, heavier than she expected. 

“It is, right? I found it at an estate sale. I wish I knew more about it but I can tell it’s old, possibly from the mid-1800s, and it’s similar to ones I’ve seen from the Netherlands.” 

“I’ll take it,” Scully says. She’s never known Mulder to own a menorah, but it feels like something she needs to do to honor him.

At the register, the woman carefully wraps the menorah in tissue paper before placing it in a shopping bag.

“I’ll throw in some candles for you, too,” she says. “Happy Hanukkah.” “Thank you.”

“And, I don’t mean to assume,” the woman says, her eyes dropping to toward Scully’s belly, “but b'sha'ah tovah.”

“Excuse me?”

“May your baby be born at a favorable time,” she says. “It’s a traditional Jewish blessing. We tend to be a little superstitious around pregnancy so we don’t say mazel tov until after the baby is born.” 

“I appreciate that, thank you,” Scully says, bringing her hand to her stomach.

The shopkeeper’s words echo in her mind on the drive home. It feels like the only appropriate thing anyone has said to her about her pregnancy. She’s given hollow smiles and nods to ultrasound technicians who’ve congratulated her and asked how happy she was to be having a baby. Her mother has been a little more sensitive, but Maggie still insists on trying to cheer her up and look on the bright side even though her blessing is tinged with darkness. But: b’sha’ah tovah, at a favorable time. It gives her comfort—the hope that the right time will come, that Mulder will return to her and their child. 

Back at her apartment, she gently unwraps the menorah and sets it in the center of her kitchen table. Looking closely at it, she sees there’s even more detail to each individual olive leaf, lines and shading etched into the brass, than she noticed in the store. 

The next night, she comes straight home from work and digs a box of matches from her kitchen drawer to light the menorah. She and Mulder once celebrated an improvised Hanukkah with battery-powered candles in an airport bar, so she knows to light the center candle, the shamash, first. Then she places a candle in the far right branch and uses the shamash to light that one, too. 

She grins at the improbability of it all: Dana Katherine Scully, star Sunday school pupil and lapsed Catholic, lighting a menorah. She doesn’t know the Hebrew prayer that Mulder recited to her once so she silently says her own. She prays for her baby and for Mulder, prays they’ll be together again soon. 

More than two millennia ago, a group of Jews kept a menorah, just like this one, lit for eight nights through the power of their beliefs alone. Like the Maccabees, she’s exhausted nearly all of her resources. To the FBI, Mulder’s disappearance is essentially a cold case with no leads left to track. There’s no evidence for her to analyze or put under a microscope hoping it will guide her to him. All she has left to go on is faith. 

The warm glow of the candles reflecting on the brass cuts through the darkness surrounding her. She feels the tiniest flutter within her and it nearly takes her breath away. She brings a palm to her belly and feels it again. Life perseveres. 

“Happy Hanukkah, little one,” she whispers. “Next year we’ll light the candles with your dad. I promise.” 

[sugar-petals]

:: BTS ◇ Being Their Werewolf Girlfriend

NOTE › @.btsxdoll​ reblogged a ‘where are the female werewolves in fantasy?’ post which inspired this. enjoy ♡

↳ warnings 🌙 dom/sub, smut, angst, marking, dash of humor

[ jimin ] ➝ He definitely knows that catchy Shakira song, even the Spanish version. But what a real she-wolf roaming his garden at 3 AM ends up being like will blow his mochi mind. Oh yes. It really is a whole new world. And holy shit, you are one hell of a gnarling beast on that lawn. Jimin will be honest with you: If he could, he’d probably brag on twitter all day that you have gigantic claws. That he’s allowed to touch them when you aren’t particularly wilding out somewhere in the local forest scratching pine trees or off to hang out with a fifteen-member, cigarette-smoking ghoul gang. 

But since it’s classified who you are, no tweets allowed. Sadly, he can’t meet the cool ghouls either. For obvious reasons though, he’d be too tasty a dinner, and he understands that you want to protect him. It’s already hard on you to have a kind of parallel life far from your control. Something so covert, scary, and taboo. Mingling with dangerous cemetary creatures for a night, only to return to a completely normal life. As if nothing happened! But cordial Jimin reassures you. Doesn’t make a hidden werewolf identity make someone the most interesting person ever? He couldn’t be a better boyfriend.  

[ taehyung ] ➝ It’s no secret that sweet Tae loves everything fluffy. The boy can’t lie, he likes your fur and muzzle. Every time you transform, he even keeps a diary entry on it. Keenly documenting everything he observes from characteristics to variations of behavior depending on the environment. You really could say he’s a werewolf biologist. He even discovers that if you eat red cabbage the with the moon waning, the transformation happens a lot faster than usual. Seriously, who could be better at dealing with any canine activity — large-scale, small-scale — than dog lover Taehyung. 

What he’s scared of and prevents a lot of cuddles are your, um, well. Huge dripping fangs and a bite force of five-hundred pounds per square inch to back it up. He has a reason to be careful. However, you’d rather devour some random suburb animals even in your worst of moods. Yeontan excluded. He likes you. It’s fun communicating with him. The world is interesting through werewolf eyes, but since it’s only for one night or two, Yeontan’s perspective is even more interesting since his form is permanent. Rascal sure knows a lot of gossip that would otherwise have never seen the light of day. 

[ jin ] ➝ Now, let’s set the record straight. If there’s one man on the face of this sordid planet who loves sizzling danger? It’s Worldwide Fearless on duty. Jin is the chosen one to have as a designated boyfriend. All his life he dreamed of eerie thrills like that, and it became true. Fate! The first night you were shocked to see your ears grow all fuzzy out of literal nowhere, but Jin knew he made the right dating choice. Your final form has the guy all fired up. He desperately wants to be bitten, growled at, paw-slapped, tossed around, walked on (!), licked head to toe. Long story short, he’s your #1 biggest were-fan.

But at the end of the day, no sexual feelings and acts involved. You’ve talked about that at length. To him, such conversations are normal, but which other couple ever talks about something as touchy. Jin would totally be a monster fucker if you weren’t completely beside yourself after transformation. So there is surely be no guarantee of what could happen. Especially with you being a very hungry lycanthrope raiding the basement. Which he neatly stocks up three days before the big event, and you can feast on it instead of turning this whole party into a literal “EatJin”. God forbid, you’d rather walk on him.

[ yoongi ] ➝ As cool as a cucumber. His mother raised a level-headed boy. When the moon is out there taking its monthly liberty to go off I guess, he sits on the porch with his phone’s lunar calendar and Rolex out, only waiting for shit to go down. Yes, he’s mastered all predictive methods. Sweet technology has made it easy for him. You always joke how Yoongi might as well open a ‘Were-Watching’ tourism business if the world were just a bit more open-minded and capitalism an ethical thing. Anyways. In the meantime, you’re busy hulking out in the cornfields and howling like there’s no tomorrow. 

Usually coming back for breakfast, hornier than the local elks in heat. Still with all rabid instincts half active, ready to pounce on what smells so good lying in your bed without pajamas on. Yoongi thinks he’s just one lucky dude not just getting all marked up, but occasionally salivated on when he’s waking up. Normally, sex would end up casual, but post-transformation banging is guaranteed to be energetic and sweaty beyond what he believed was possible. Which guy has his girlfriend plant herself on top of him baring her teeth like, well yeah, a fucking wolf? And he thought life would be endlessly boring.  

[ hoseok ] ➝ When you first approach him with your secret five months into the relationship, he thinks that you want to act out some hybrid fanfiction or roleplay. You say no Hoseok, I really am, y’know, huge and a dangerous ball of fur once in a while. But to no avail. To him, out of sight, out of mind. The oddly not-like-you-but-actually-you-shaped footprints around the garage don’t convince him. Hell, even the two-day ‘mountain vacation’ you take every four weeks doesn’t make Hoseok question that something very wolfy could be going on. “A wolf? Just drop by then!” he says, all nonchalant. 

So it takes the big wolf lady to knock on his window to prove that she’s not kidding and this is what he signed up for. He will take a while to digest things, reconsider his priorities. Is he prey, is he not? Tongue-in-cheek, you assure him that you only munch on the super built hikers who throw their trash into nature. You surely wouldn’t feel saturated eating a skinny guy. That does help Hoseok feel off limits in an unexpected way. There’s still much to get used to, but his chef talent can deal with your strong appetite surging every once in a while and he helps to remove the footprints so the neighbors don’t worry.

[ namjoon ] ➝ It’s like Fox Mulder seeing actual aliens land on earth. Hardly surprised. “Knew it!” is the final verdict when you confess to RM what’s going on. After some lightheaded pre-full-moon feelings make you rip up a sofa pillow at night. Entirely in a daze and pretty much close to howling already. Namjoon quickly understands the scope of peril and eventually opts for sleeping at Jimin’s if it gets a little too animalistic. Other than that, he’s well-informed. He might as well read ‘Mystic Creatures of Moderity′ in his favorite chair while you’re busy gnawing on a raw steak locking yourself in the kitchen.

Namjoon is happy to have something weird going on in his life to shake things up. It feels like a movie to him. Arguably, to others, it would be bizarre and both of you have to hide everything properly. Blasting funky disco music during your noisier transformations and such. Or pretending you’re a very well-crafted 3D robot Halloween costume which people do buy into. But some paranormal stuff happening in his backyard once a month? A whole lot of shed grey hair clogging the shower the day after transforming? Who gives a fuck, it’s just Joon’s girlfriend having a jolly good time. X-Files case closed. 

[ jungkook ] ➝ Admittedly... a bit obsessed. With seeing your full eight feet tall incarnation, doing some unhinged shit out in the woods. That’s sexy. But JK is also caring — you’re hypersensitive to anything silver and most other human interference, after all. Sure, his scent has been up close for a long enough time not to trigger you anymore, even in your full wolven form. But there are still risks involved. The angel promises to stay by your side regardless. And indeed: He’s gonna camp in a raised blind with binoculars to watch over you in the forest moonlight. No zookeeper will get their hands on you, promised. 

Jungkook really admires you in every aspect. No judgment. The animal enthusiast in him just can’t help it. Wolves in and of themselves are a huge interest to him, now he gets to know that you can grow paws, a tail and all that, the full package? Wow. He will never not be stunned. Jungkook wants to know everything about your kind. What you eat, how your heightened senses work, how you navigate your territory, what you feel. He also loves the thrill of adrenaline because boy do you go apeshit in the first couple hours of moonlight exposure. JK is a positive type of overwhelmed. The guy’s in love.

© 2017-2019 submissive-bangtan. All rights reserved. Do not repost, translate, or modify.

[thatswhatisee]

Remember, Remember

This is my take on "What if the bee had not stung Scully in the Hallway Scene?" In Fight the Future. Also available at AO3

I want to thank @agentelmo, @handsofabitterman, and @mldrgrl for their help in the early stages. Tossing ideas around with them made me come with a certain structure to this project. This first chapter has been betaed by dksculder, @ enigmaticdoctorscully , and @settle-down-frohike . Without their feedback, I wouldn't have been able to get this here.

I also want to thank Vicky @frangipanidownunder for her writing workshops that have helped me become a more confident fanfic writer.

English is not my native language and feedback is much appreciated. Without any further ado, here is the story.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Chapter 1

I go for a run. I run like my life depends on it. Which I find ironic in a way, as I’m a fox myself. At least that’s what my parents have thought to name me. Different from my animal counterpart, though, at this moment I feel more like a prey than a hunter. I run away from this morning’s events, trying to erase the frustration and anger with sore muscles and the release of endorphins. That should make me feel better. At least that’s what I had hoped for when I had set my foot out of the door, right before dawn, with the air still chilled.

I pass by silhouettes of trees and hedges; not a soul is out in the park. The streetlamps show me where the track ends and the green grass starts. I follow the concrete path. My nostrils smell dew and the loamy scent of the Tidal Basin on my right. The Washington Monument is on this side too. All lit up, a white phallus among the darkness, putting on pretentious display all American masculinity. Even in architecture we, men, show that our dicks need to rule everything, seeking power and a release of oxytocin to their owners.

A flood of oxytocin should have made me better as well. Or so they say. It had made me feel good, actually. So good, so relaxed that I fell asleep; it was the moment I opened my eyes that everything went downhill.

But what would I know about hormones anyway? 

She, on the other hand, would know. The perks of being an MD. Her bedside manners need some work, though. That I can say. I bet that’s why she chose to be a pathologist. And coming to think of it, that is also probably why she had been single for almost all the time I have met her.

If I am a fox, she is, apparently, a praying mantis.

But it was my mistake. Five years working with a person. Five years of a partnership based on trust and repressed feelings were thrown down the toilet. I should have never kissed her in that hallway. And why did she have to choose that moment to let down a guard that has been up and successful for so many years? She should have slapped me in the face, that’s what she should have done. I would have deserved it.

The first rays of sunlight have started to warm up this summer morning and I’m still thinking of her. I guess it’s not time to turn back to the car and drive home yet. The cool breeze on my face is a good contrast to the warmth my tracksuit provides me, as I feel the drops of sweat running down my body. It’s a pleasant sensation. It makes me focus on the moment I’m living and not in the past. 

The sunlight bathes my surroundings and the day has warmed up as I approach The Jefferson Memorial. A few joggers run by and the city is starting to wake up. I think it’s time to finally go back home.

As I leave the shower and head to my bedroom, the remnants of last night’s developments assault my senses. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. The room smells like her and I swear I can hear again the soft moaning coming from her mouth when my tongue drew number eights on her neck. My blood runs south and stirs my dick. I sigh. My body tenses and I yank the sheets out of the bed to throw them in the hamper with force. The sunlight passes between the slats of the blinds, bathing a piece of the floor. It makes a kind of patterned spotlight to my yesterday’s outfit. My stomach clutch with the sight. I grab my gray T-shirt from the floor, ball them up in my hands with clenched teeth and toss them in the laundry basket.

When I’m back to putting away clothes, something else calls my attention and I stop mid-stride. Giving it further inspection, I notice it’s a smashed bee. My heart races and I feel ultra-awake by adrenaline. I run and search frantically all over the place for a container to put the insect.

Once it is secured tight inside a small transparent pot I grab my cell phone and press speed dial one: Miss bedside manners.

Before I even hear the first ring, my heart races and I fumble with the phone to press the end call button. I throw it on the couch in a huff and I groan. I start to pace the living room, rubbing my temples as I try to think of who could help me out with that insect. Yes, I know that I will need an entomologist, but I have a hunch that this bee is no ordinary honey-maker. And only a pair of eyes, who have seen the virus through the microscope before, could back me up, complete and enrich my theory.

I groan again.

I guess that’s what phantom limb syndrome feels like.

I arrive at the Lone Gunmen’s office and I am greeted by Frohike, who opens the door and starts to look behind me as if my presence alone was not enough for him.

“Where is the delectable Agent Scully?”

“I dare you to call her that on her face. She will kick your ass.” and then I remember. “Though that will be a little difficult since she is moving to Salt Lake City.”

“Salt Lake City?! What the heck did you do to her, man?” he barks, his face betraying indignation. He closes the door and I get inside. I try to deny my involvement in her departure – even though deep down, I’m guilty as charged – but I am interrupted by Langly and Byers. They have stopped their nerdy business and are now gathered around me and Frohike. The latter informs the others of the latest development.

“What did you do to Scully, dude?” blondie asks me.

I don’t know if it’s Frohike’s indignation or Langly’s astonished tone that does the trick, but I snap.

“Why do you all think I have done something to her?!”

“Easy, dude, we just want to understand what happened. But you were always ditching her, so we assume things.” says Langly.

“And you have a tendency to sleep with your female partners” Frohike points out.

“That happened only once.” I say, unable to look them in the eyes.

“Yeah, with the only female partner you have had before.” Shortie patronizes me.

“She and Diana are completely different people. Besides I’ve sworn that I would not let my dick get in the way again.” Yeah. Congratulations to me.

“Well, agent Scully is very hot. It would be understandable if you had not been able to resist temptation…” 

“Can we, please, stop talking about her?!” I admonish and interrupt Frohike’s rant. “The FBI transferred her after all that Dallas fiasco. And that’s why I’m here.” I take a deep calming breath. “I need your help. They are trying to blame us for what happened and all I have had before were theories, but no substantial proof. Until…” I get the vial with the bee from my pocket and show them. “...I found this in my apartment.” 

I share with them everything that Kurtzweil had told me. I tell them all the things I have seen in the last days: the cornfield, the white domes, the bees.

“If this bee is carrying the alien virus, as I suspect it is, it changes everything. It will prove that there is a real threat to people out there. And the X Files is the only division in the FBI that can handle these kinds of investigation. They will need to reopen the unit. And they will not be able to make a scapegoat of me.”

“And maybe Agent Scully can come back to Washington.” Frohike says.

“That is not up to me. She had her options before and she has made her choice.” I sigh. “And I think I already said I don’t want to talk about her, right?”

I notice how they look at one another, tension in the air. That’s when Byers, finally, decides to offer his input.

“So you’ll need an apiologist or an entomologist who we can trust to look at this bee. Someone who can catalog the anomalies or find traces of the virus.” 

“Yep. And I need it by Monday, at noon.”

“Monday?!” Langly exclaims. “Dude, today is Friday! Do you have any idea how long it takes to run full background checks on people and come up with somebody who is clean? How are we going to do that and then ask them to do the job on such a short notice? And moreover on the weekend?!”

“I know. But that’s when I have an OPR meeting. The FBI forgot to ask me when it’s the most convenient time for me to have my ass kicked.”

“So let’s get to work!” Frohike says and retreats himself along with Langly to their computers. Byers stay put and then approaches me, in a conspiratory voice.

“I know that you don’t want to talk about Agent Scully, but I just wanted to say that I have experience with loving a woman and then have her ripped out of my arms.”

“I’m not in love…”

“You may fool yourself, Mulder, but not me. Anyway, I just wanted to say that if you ever want to talk about it, I can be your man for that. I won’t judge or make fun of you.” He pats my shoulder twice and goes for his computer. 

And I stay there, glued to that spot, dumbstruck.

 I leave the Gunmen’s office with the remembrance of the taste of her lips in my tongue. Thank you, Byers! Now all I can think of was how our lips barely had met in that hallway and her tongue was already inciting me, proding for more; how our breaths became heavy and faster; how I pulled Her body closer to mine, and...

...And how I needed to burn that out of my mouth and mind.

So I get in the car and drive all the way to Casey’s Bar, in Southeast Washington. When I get there, though, I don't even leave the car as I remember that blonde bartender. She would be sure to inform me that my ‘lucky number’ was actually three times less than what I really needed.

I go home instead. The bottle of scotch in the liquor cabinet will have to do. All that is left for me is to drown my sorrows into oblivion. And that’s what I do until I have the burning taste of alcohol in my mouth only. 

When I regain consciousness, the sun has already set and a loud trill pierces my ears. And my head for that matter. I am sprawled, face down on my couch, a pool of drool coming out of my mouth. I unstuck my cheeks from the leather and the difference in height makes it feel like a sword punctures my brain. Looking for the source of the noise, I realize it’s my cell phone that is making that awful sound.

I get up to my feet, as steady as I can under the circumstance, and answer the device. I am greeted by a female voice who calls me ‘Fox’. And the way she says my name –in such a soft, caring voice that doesn’t make me flinch– tells me that it can only be one person.

“Mrs. Scully?”

“Yes, that’s me. Have you seen Dana?”

“I last saw her early this morning. Has something happened?”

“We were supposed to have dinner at 7 p.m, but she neither showed up or called.”

I check the time and the VCR clock tells me it’s 9 p.m. “Have you tried her cell phone?”

“Yes, and her home number as well, but she is not answering either. This is not like her.” her voice became brittle. “I was wondering if you guys had had a last minute trip that she had forgotten to tell me or some other work-related issue had come up. I just… I just have a bad feeling about it all.”

Me too, Mrs. Scully. Me too. I feel the bottom of my stomach chill and sink. “Hang by the phone. I’ll figure out what happened.”

I end the call and dial the Lone Gunmen. When one of them answers the phone I don’t even bother to listen who is on the other side and start barking orders.

“Stop everything you are doing right now. I need your help again. Scully is missing.”

Chapter 2

[peacenik0]

Anon from wtfmulder: Mulder and Scully smoking weed at the unremarkable house and fucking outside 😘

@xfilesgayepisode said: Hello my friend! ☺️ I’m a big fan of the Mulder and Scully getting high prompt so this one goes for u! Scully finds a joint in William's bedroom and Mulder insists on smoking it. they make sweet and high love, order pizza, and William comes home to two very stoned parents ❤️

A/N: This has a few elements of both these prompts. This was written without a beta or real proofreading. Something I was a little scared to try, but here it is. Go toke another one, ya’ll.

tagging @today-in-fic @wtfmulder @illnevermeettheground @cultureisdarkbeer @admiralty-xfd 

---

They have been living in this little yellow house in Farr’s Corner, Virginia for almost a month. They found the place by happenstance. Driving south after visiting her mother in Bethesda. Scully missed her mom, missed the east coast, missed staying still for even a moment. Technically, Mulder was still wanted by the FBI, and they figured a non-descript home in backwoods Virginia was just the place.

They sit in the front porch swing, taking in the gorgeous mid-June night. The evening sun stays high in the sky for a long time.  The air is cool, but not cold. Perfect. The breeze teases Mulder’s longish hair, and he gives her that look. His eyes twinkling in a mischevious kind of way. He’s clearly up to something.

“Mulder, what are you up to?” She asks, a smile teasing her lips. His own mouth turns up in a wry grin.

“Look what I got, Scully,” he says, whipping a small carefully twisted joint out of his Khaki jacket pocket. Her jaw drops a little at Mulder’s cavalier attitude.

“Mulder!”

“I figure that I might as well... seeing as I am already a wanted man,” he says lighting up the joint with a silver butane lighter.

“Where in the hell did you get that?” She asks, pointing at the offending item perched between his lips.

“It’s a secret...” he says taking a long drag. When he exhales, he begins coughing harder than she’s ever seen him cough before. Doubling over, he gasps for breath. The doctor in her gently pats his back in comfort. “I’m fine,” he says, still out of breath.

“Mulder, do you even know what you’re doing?” Her question is met with a deep rumbling inside his chest. “Seriously, when was the last time you smoked Cannabis?”

“Cannabis, Scully? Can’t you just call it weed like a normal person?” He chuckles, his mouth going into a wide boyish smile.

“Cannabis is the scientific name, thank you very much,” she says crossing her arms over her chest.

“You want some?” He asks after taking a much smaller puff.

“No, thank you. You seem like you’re having enough fun for the both of us,” she says, trying not to laugh at the way his long nose seems to be getting redder by the minute. “I tried it once in college, and I didn’t feel anything.”

She always feared that getting high would make her stupid, or even seem less competent. She hated the idea of seeming less intelligent than she was.

“No one gets hight their first time, Scully.” His eyes are glassy, but he still manages to give her that puppy-dog look, the same one that once convinced her to lie for him in front of a Senate panel. “Just give it a try, if you don’t like it, fine.” That same big goofy smile graces his lips.

“Okay, fine,” she finally relents. “But if this is laced with something...” She says accusatorily. Mulder holds his hands up innocently.

---

An hour later, and Dana Scully is stoned. So intoxicated that colorful pinwheels of light swirl before her eyes. She blinks woozily and smiles at Mulder.

“Do you feel good?”

“Mmmhmm,” she hums up at him. His arm is around her now, and she takes this opportunity to lean into him. Her fingers splay and bounce over his firm stomach muscles. “When did you get these?” she says lifting up his shirt playfully to poke at his belly.

“You like?” he asks, lifting up his shirt to display the nearly defined almost eight pack. Scully sighs in admiration. This is all hers. 

“I could take it or leave it,” she says a grin teasing the corners of her mouth.

“Oh is that right?” He asks, raising his eyebrows at her. “Too bad I don’t feel the same about yours,” he says lunging forward. His hands are merciless on her ribs, tickling her until she is gasping for air. Quickly, she slips out of his grasp, and onto the porch. Mulder wastes no time in playfully tackling her to the ground.  She hasn’t laughed this hard in months. It feels good. 

Like guilty teenagers, they slip behind their new home to lie in the grass and watch the glittering milky way. The moon is high in the sky above them, setting the grass alight in a wash of crystal dewdrops. His hand comes to her narrow hip, his eyes are dark pools of desire. Her body vibrates with the magnetic pull of her blood. She feels lightheaded, gleeful as he kisses her. Everything feels like a new beginning. Like first love. Their bodies move together like they are supposed to. Like they were made to do this.

After she rolls him on top of her like a warm blanket. The fireflies blink in the rural darkness of their home. Their home. She smiles. It may not be the life she dreamed of, but Mulder is here and alive. They are together, that is all that matters.

Scully feels his stomach grumble, “Hungry?” she asks.

“Yeah, I’m starving,” he chuckles happily. Thoughts of mushrooms and onions fill her mind. 

“Do you think any Pizza places deliver out here?”

“Good question. Let’s find out.”

---

Take a hit and hit the comments.

[ofmulder]

Fox Mulder's Guide to a Night Out

A/N: Hey! This is my contribution for the x-files Easter Fic Exchange (@xfilesfanficexchange) . This work is gifted to @catebateman (twitter). The prompt was: date night fluff, which, if any of you ever read something I wrote, you know this is waay out of my comfort zone, so it was actually a lot of fun writing this. I do hope I didn't make it too ooc. Let me know tho.

On that note, pls enjoy the fic :)

tagging @today-in-fic

 Summary: Scully decided to create a perfect date night for her and Mulder, when things start to go wrong, Mulder decides to show her that they can still enjoy the evening together. Fox Mulder style, of course

Read it on AO3 as well

It had been a while since their first kiss, their first date, about four months, she would say and Scully found it funny how she was still getting butterflies in her stomach when she looked at Mulder. She felt nervous when she had to talk to him, she was like a schoolgirl falling in love for the first time.

That Thursday she felt especially nervous going into the office; Scully planned on inviting Mulder over to her place for a homecooked romantic dinner. So, as she walked down to the basement, her heart beat fast in her chest, pumping adrenaline through her body. She stopped before the door, reached for the handle and stopped herself just before her hand touched it. Scully took a deep breath, straightened out her clothes and strode into the room.

Mulder was already there, much to her surprise – made her wonder whether he’d gone home at all the night before. His legs were on the desk and he was eating sunflower seeds.

“Good morning, Scully.” He greeted her with a cheerful tone.

“Morning.” She replied with a smile and placed her bag on her desk before sitting down.

Scully looked at neat pile of archives piled neatly on her desk and sighed; she was tired of all the paperwork. Because of budget cuts and a lack of interesting cases, it had been quite the boring week, all they were doing was finishing paperwork and cataloguing things properly.

“So… Mulder…” Her voice trailed off, “Any plans for the weekend?”

She tried to look calm, but her heart beat fast.

“If you count feeding the fish as plans, then yes.” He joked and she laughed a little nervously, “No, I don’t have anything planned, why?”

“Well, I was planning on cooking a little something at my place,” Scully ran a hand through her hair nervously, “Care to join me?”

“Wow, Agent Scully,” Mulder moved his feet from the table and placed them on te ground,“Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Maybe I am.” She chuckled.

“What time should I come over?” Mulder placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward.

“At around eight o’clock, Saturday.” Scully told him with a smirk on her lips “Is it a good time for you?”

“Yeah, it’s fine by me.” He nodded.

“Great then, it’s a date.” Scully smiled at him.

“It’s a date.” He agreed and leaned back on the chair.

~X~

As always, Scully was quite the perfectionist. She wanted that to be the perfect night, Mulder was coming over and it was her first-time cooking dinner for him. Of course, she had been planning a menu for the past 4 days, even before asking him out. After all, she had to make sure she knew how to cook whatever dish she chose successfully.

Scully wasn’t the best cook in the world, and she knew it. So, she tried to find a couple recipes that were tasty but easy enough so she wouldn’t have too much trouble in the kitchen. She even thought of calling her mom to see if she could get any nice suggestions from her but decided she could figure it out on her own.

After trying out many recipes throughout the course of the week, Scully finally decided to make grilled salmon with asparagus. She hoped Mulder would like it.

It was 7:00 p.m. and she was beginning to prepare everything, putting the asparagus on the pan with a thin coat of oil. Then, she decided to put the spices on the salmon, so it was ready to go in the oven. She wanted everything to be ready or almost ready by the time Mulder arrived.

All she needed was a little black pepper and some basil leaves. She went through her spices rack but couldn’t find what she was looking for. She looked all over the kitchen, before realizing she had used all of the spices she needed when making the test runs.

“Fuck…” She cursed under her breath; it was so thoughtless of her to have made such a dumb mistake.

Scully’s nerves began to get to her, a tension building in her gut, she was scared she might not be able to make that night perfect. But she couldn’t ruin that dinner, there was no way that night could go wrong. As quickly as possible, Scully got her coat and left her apartment, trying to find the nearest grocery store so she could buy the condiments and whatever else she needed to make the salmon.

It was a 10-minute drive, but it seemed a lot longer to her. Scully went quickly inside the store and got everything she needed in a hurry so she could make it back in time. She had to wait in line for 5 minutes, which, to her, seemed like an eternity. She tapped her foot on the floor incessantly. Each second that passed was one less second she had to cook the food and make everything perfect for when Mulder arrived.

Finally, she managed to check out and head back home.

7:30 p.m. her watch said when she arrived back at her place.

‘Okay, Scully, you can do this…’ She told herself and took a deep breath so she could calm down her nerves, ‘There’s still plenty of time and, even if he gets here before the food is ready, we can always open a bottle of wine and do things calmly.’

Scully tried to do things a little calmer after that. She put the spices on the salmon and the salmon on the Pyrex she was going to put on the oven. After that, she cooked some rice to go as a side to the dish. When she was done with the rice, she closed the pan in which she cooked it in and put the Pyrex on the oven.

Scully finished setting the table quickly and went inside to have a bath and get ready for the date. She only hoped she could get the smell of fish off of her hands. She had a quick shower, put on moisturizer and a little makeup, just some light foundation, a little bit of mascara and lipstick. She spent a good 10 minutes staring at her closet before finally picking an outfit. Since it was something of a chilly night, she decided on a red, v neck sweater and light wash jeans. She, then, rolled up the sleeves of the sweater so it wasn’t as warm. She put on a pair of black boots and headed to the living room so she could wait for Mulder to arrive while looking over the last details.

It wasn’t long befote Mulder arrived. She opened the door.

Mulder looked extremely handsome and she could feel herself blush a little. He wore classic blue jeans, a black shirt and a leather jacket.

“Hi,” He smiled at her, “I brought wine.”

“Hi, Mulder” She smiled at him and took the bottle from his hands. “Thanks, you didn’t have to. Come on in.”

He followed her into the apartment and hung up his coat by the door. While he did that, Scully placed the bottle of wine on the counter and grabbed the glasses she’d placed on the table.

“Wow,” Mulder said, “The food smells amazing.”

“Thanks,” Scully replied as she worked on opening the bottle of wine, “I’m making salmon, hope you like it.”

“I do like it,” Mulder said and took the glass of wine she handed him and took a sip.         “I’m really glad you do.” She felt a little proud of herself for getting it right, “It’s almost ready, just when the timer rings I’ll take it out of the oven so we can eat. We should sit down on the couch while we wait. Have a little wine.”

“Sounds good to me.” Mulder said.

They sat on the couch; their thighs touching. Maybe they didn’t need to be that close to each other, but it felt good, she reckoned, she liked it and he seemed to like it as well.

“You look amazing tonight.” Mulder said looking at her, he had one of his arms draped around her shoulder.

“Thanks,” Scully looked at him, losing herself in those beautiful green eyes of his, “You look very good yourself.”

“You always look beautiful, Scully,” He smiled at her, “Especially when I can see those freckles of yours.”

Scully could feel herself blushing, she’d hoped he would notice she hadn’t covered up her freckles that night. She usually wore a foundation with more coverage to work, she didn’t like them to show that often, she thought they made her look childish and, thus, less respectable before the other agents, more vulnerable. And for her to choose to show her freckles to him meant allowing herself to be vulnerable.

Mulder took a sip of his wine before placing the glass on the table and Scully followed. When they sat back again, he combed his fingers through her hair, bringing her head slightly closer to his. Scully stared intently at his plump bottom lip and licked her own.

Impatient as she was, she kissed him. Hard.

Their lips crashed in a breathless kiss; one she had been waiting for all week. She moved closer to him. His hand was placed on her thigh and roamed upwards.

“You know, Mulder,” Scully said when she broke the kiss for air, “I might have to rethink that no kissing during week days rule I made.”

“I’m glad you think that, because I agree.” He laughed breathlessly before kissing her again.

Scully laid down on the couch with Mulder atop of her and allowed herself to lose herself in his kiss and his touch, knowing that the sound of the timer she’d set up would bring them back to reality.

They were making out on the couch for a good ten minutes before Mulder broke the kiss once more.

“Hey, Scully,” He frowned, “What’s that smell?”

“Huh?” She sat upright, still somewhat dazed from all the kissing, “What smell?”

“Don’t you smell something burning?” He looked at her with a confused look on his face.

“Shit! The food!” Scully exclaimed as realization hit her. She had forgotten to set up the timer.

She jumped up from the couch and ran towards the kitchen. She grabbed an oven mitt as fast as she could and turned off the oven. She opened the oven door and grabbed the Pyrex with the burning food as fast as she could, without giving it much thought.

And then the smoke invaded her lungs and eyes. In a coughing fit, she dropped the Pyrex and it hit the ground. It broke and there were pieces of glass and food everywhere on the kitchen floor.

“Scully!” Mulder ran over to the kitchen, “Is everything okay?”

“Goddammit.” Scully cursed under her breath; she felt absolutely frustrated as she looked at the mess on the floor.

“Here, let me help you.” Mulder walked closer to her and closed the oven door, “It’s alright, Scully. Let’s clean this up, okay?”

She wasn’t quite thinking straight, too wrapped up in her own thoughts, “Yeah, sure. Let me just get a broom.”

“Let me do that, okay?” Mulder told her and began to walk away, “stay here while I do that.”

“Yeah, sure,” She nodded, “I’ll pick up the big pieces while you do that.”

Scully knelt next to the broken pieces of glass and began picking them up one by one, making sure they were cool enough to hold.

“Here,” Mulder brought a trash bag with him, “Put them in here and get up, I’ll sweep the rest.”

“Okay,” Scully put the glass on the trash bag as well as the majority of the food that was on the ground “I’ll help you with the sweeping once I’m up.”

She grabbed the hand Mulder offered her and placed her left hand on the ground so she could prop herself up. But she failed to see that there was a large piece of glass there and when she took an impulse, the glass shard cut her hand very deep.

“Ah!” She shouted, “My hand! Shit!”

She held her wrist with her right hand and tried to examine the wound. She could tell she would need stitches to close that.

“Scully!” Mulder grabbed her other hand and helped her up, “We gotta go to the hospital to get this checked out, Scully.”

“No, Mulder, it’s alright,” She said with a sigh, she tried to pretend it wasn’t as bad a wound as it actually was, “I can handle this, I’m a medical doctor.”

“I know you are, Scully, but you are in no condition to handle this yourself.” He took his phone out of his pocket and started dialing, “I’m calling us a cab, you go sit down on the couch while I get some of your stuff.”

“Okay. Get my wallet, my keys and my phone, please, Mulder.” Scully resigned to her fate. She was too upset to care anyway; she had completely ruined the night. The best she could do now was wait for the cab and get that wound looked at.

~X~

It was a little late when they left the hospital, it had taken longer than expected because of the stitches she needed to close the wound. Luckily, because of the local anesthesia she wasn’t feeling much pain.

“I’m sorry.” Scully looked down. She was completely devastated; she’d ruined a night that she really wanted to be special.

“What?” Mulder asked, confused, “Why? What are you sorry for?”

“For making you go through all that trouble of taking me to the hospital and whatnot.” Scully looked away. The the hospital sign was practically the only source of light.

“But, hey.” Mulder put his arm around her shoulders and started leading her away from the hospital entrance, “We can still have some fun. The night’s young, Scully.”

“Where are we going?” Scully asked, she was still kind of feeling down, all she wanted to do was go home and sleep, forget about the night.

“Just come with me, you’ll see.” He smiled at her, “I’ll show you what Fox Mulder does on a free night.”

“As long as you don’t take me UFO hunting.” She joked.

“C’mon, Scully, you know me better than that.” Mulder replied with a smile, “I only do that on Sundays. It’s still Saturday as far as I’m concerned.”

They took a cab and Mulder made sure he told the driver the address before Scully got into the car so it would be a surprise.

“First stop, McDonald’s.” Mulder announced as they approached the restaurant.

“Are you serious, Mulder?” Scully sighed in disbelief, “McDonald’s?”

“Dana Scully, skeptical even when going out to dinner,” Mulder shook his head, his voice filled with humor, “C’mon, this is Mulder’s guide of what to do. Just follow me.”

He paid the driver and left the car.

“Okay, okay.” She eventually resigned to her fate and started following him towards the restaurant.

“Wait.” He suddenly halted, “Don’t tell me you’d rather eat at Burger King, ‘cause I can do Burger King to.”

“No, Mulder, McDonald’s is fine.” She laughed.

“Great, let’s go then.” Mulder motioned for Scully to follow him inside.

“What are you having?” Mulder asked her, “Dinner’s on me.”

“I don’t know yet.” Scully told him as she looked over the food options, trying to find something that didn’t have as many calories.  

Mulder, on the other hand was going all out, 10 chicken nuggets, a Big Mac with a large side of fries and a large coke. That was when she decided she too was going all out that night. It had been so stressful already; she decided she didn’t need to be stressing over that as well.

“I’ll take a Quarter Pounder with a large size of fries and a diet coke, please.” She ordered.

“And can we have that to go, please?” Mulder asked as he took out his wallet to pay for the food.

“Yes, of course,” the cashier replied.

“To go?” Scully inquired, “And you swear you’re not taking me UFO hunting?”

“I swear.” Mulder smiled.

“Where are you taking me, then?” She asked, already feeling a little less down.

“It’s a secret…” He said in a mysterious tone, “You’ll see when we get there.”

They took the food and walked to the nearest subway, where they headed towards the Smithsonian station. From there, they started walking.

The air of the night was cool, the perfect temperature, in Scully’s opinion. The beginning of spring, just as winter faded was her favorite time of the year. They walked for around 15 minutes before arriving at the Tidal Basin.

Though Scully had been there a couple of times, she’d never gone there during the time of the cherry blossoms. And what she saw was a beautiful sight. The wind was blowing, and the petals floated in the air.

“Wow.” Was all she could muster.

“I know right.” Scully looked at Mulder, there was a childish smile on his face, “I love coming here during spring.”

“This is beautiful.” Scully said as she tried to take in the amazing scenery, “I did hear about this from a coworker, but I’d never been.”

“It is, right?” He agreed with her.

Mulder took her good hand and led her to a spot right underneath one of the trees, where they sat on the grass with their backs resting against the trunk of the tree. They opened the bags and began to eat in silence, simply admiring the scenery. Scully rested her head on Mulder’s shoulder.

For the first time that night, as she binged on the fries, she felt free. It felt good to be sitting there with him, not having to worry about anything. And the cherry blossoms had an amazing scent as well.

“Hey, Scully, look.” Mulder was pointing at the sky.

“What is it?” Scully looked up and tried to find what he was trying to show her.

“Is that… An UFO there?” He asked in a very serious tone.

“Shut up, Mulder.” Scully laughed and he laughed too.

“I love you, Scully.” He whispered.

She replied with a kiss.

[sportsnightnut]

double chocolate muffins and cigarettes

My Valentine’s Day Fic Exchange entry for Charnette (ScullyLovesQueequeg on AO3). A little angst, a little unrequited love, and not a lot of fluff, per her request. :)

Nicole ( @gaycrouton),  thank you so much for setting up these fic exchanges. They are delightful and fun and I love this so much. <3

the you I miss does not exist, but I’ve never wanted anybody more than this -john mayer

It’s 5:53 on Thursday morning, and Dana Scully’s first thought is that she really, really, really wants a cigarette.

Her alarm isn’t supposed to go off for another seven minutes. She could’ve had seven more glorious, unconscious minutes where she wasn’t awake and she wasn’t thinking about him or it or anything . But her internal clock decided that wasn’t necessary, so now she’s here, awake, staring at the ceiling and contemplating which expletives best fit her mood this morning.

Scully throws the covers off, sliding off the bed and right into her slippers. She pads out to the living room and turns on the television, which is still on The Weather Channel from yesterday morning. She throws the remote unceremoniously on the couch and makes her way to the kitchen.

While she starts the coffee, she listens for the infamous “Local on the 8s” segment to advise her on what to wear today. For the end of February in Washington, it’s been unseasonably, and somewhat obnoxiously, warm. As she suspected, high of 51 today, which is practically balmy after last week’s snow showers and highs in the low 20s. Her sinuses are furious.

Scully’s shower this morning is quick, partially because she doesn’t care that much today, and partially because there’s been a lack of hot water in the building lately. She’s not about to risk an extra five minutes just in case it turns to ice

Black suit, white shirt, black heels, a swipe of lipstick, and she’s out the door at 7:06.

She doesn’t feel like driving today, so she takes the Metro, Yellow line to the Archives station. There’s a bakery she likes about a block in the opposite direction of work, and since it’s the kind of morning that calls for a muffin the size of her face, Scully stops there first before ducking into the pharmacy next door to grab a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

She smokes two on the walk back. At first, it burns her throat and her lungs, but then she decides she kind of likes the feeling, so she finishes the first and shakes out a second. Scully finds an odd sense of pleasure in grinding a cigarette butt into the concrete sidewalk, something she would normally find repulsive.

When she steps off the elevator and into the office (their office? his office?), she’s surprised to find that Mulder is already there, digging through a file cabinet. He turns around when he hears her open the door.

“Eight o’clock on the dot, Agent Scully,” Mulder remarks with a smile, the kind Scully can’t decide if she loves or hates because she can’t decide if it’s endearing or annoying. This morning, in particular, it feels annoying.

“Mmm,” she replies as she hangs her coat. Since he isn’t currently at the desk, Scully decides it’s hers for the moment and takes a seat, tearing open the paper bag to reveal the double chocolate muffin inside. She takes a bite, wiping the crumbs off her skirt onto the floor, before she reaches for her travel mug of coffee and takes a drink.

“Are you okay?” Mulder asks, and it’s this, this question, this seemingly innocent yet not so innocent question that causes Dana Scully to snap.

And she’s not sure if it’s because he asked it or if it’s how he asked it or why he asked it, but if she were asked to detail everything leading up to this moment that led her to react the way she did, here is what she would tell you:

One: she’s been surrounded by alpha male figures her entire life, the most notable being her father. Captain William Scully. Sometimes she wonders what it might’ve been like to grow up away from the military, away from the structure, the rigidity, the “you’ll do what you’re ordered to do” culture that dictated their family. What would it’ve been like to have a more benevolent father? Would it have made any difference? For her? For her brothers? For Maggie?

When she’d asked Maggie whether or not he was proud of her, all Maggie had said was: “He was your father.”

What was that supposed to mean? Was it just assumed that he was proud of her? As much as Scully doesn’t want to admit it, she was desperate for his approval, and she really needed to hear it from him. But now he’s gone, and she can’t ask that of a dead man.

Two : Sometimes it is really fucking exhausting to be a woman in a male-dominated field in a male-dominated organization in a male-dominated government in a male-dominated society. Could Dana Scully run circles around half the men in the FBI? Absolutely. Is she a better shot than half the men in the FBI? Absolutely. But does she also have to prove herself every day, far more than any of the men she works with ever have?

Absolutely.

Three: Maggie cannot seem to stop pestering her about “settling down,” especially now that she’s gasp turned thirty.

They had dinner for her birthday last Sunday; a nice, quiet, mother and daughter meal. Scully ordered a fancy salad with grilled salmon and an expensive glass of pinot grigio, and almost as soon as her fork pierced those first bites of lettuce, Maggie said “So, Dana…” and Scully tried so desperately not to roll her eyes because she knew exactly where Maggie was headed.

Maggie means well. Scully knows that she means well. It’s just that if Scully hadn’t already been slightly self-conscious about celebrating her thirtieth birthday by having dinner with her mother, she was as soon as those two words left Maggie’s lips.

Scully is a doctor. A board-certified physician who is also a badass, gun-wielding Special Agent for the FB-fucking-I and all she can think about right now is the fact that she isn’t married and she’s having her thirtieth birthday dinner with her mother.

Four: Speaking of that whole doctor thing.

Scully knew early on in life that she wanted to be a doctor. Heavily influenced by her parents, of course, though she felt she’d come to the decision on her own. She loved science and logic, and she also felt called to serve others; practicing medicine was the perfect blend of two things she truly loved.

And sometimes Scully would daydream about becoming a doctor; getting that white coat, making rounds in the hospital. Maybe specializing in surgery, maybe pediatrics, maybe pediatric surgery. And she’d meet a handsome fellow physician, and they’d be an absolutely adorable couple, eating lunch together in the cafeteria and consulting on each other’s cases.

Now she’s found herself in the basement of the Hoover building, daydreaming instead about the man sitting just feet from her. He’s not a doctor, no, but he’s incredibly well-educated in his own right, having attended Oxford and graduated with honors from the academy.

But that’s just it: all she’s done so far is daydream.

Five : Speaking of Mulder.

Sometimes he’s irritating. Really irritating. For a few different reasons, of course, one being the fact that he is obnoxiously tall. All six feet of him towering over her five-foot-three frame. Mulder likes to stand behind her, often when she’s performing autopsies. He’d tell you it’s because he finds it--and her--fascinating. Scully doesn’t know that, so it feels alot like he’s watching her every move, waiting for something that’ll prove he’s right and she’s wrong.

And Mulder can also be a bit of a condescending asshole.

But here’s the thing: he’s also really, really attractive. And really, really smart. And did she mention attractive?

Six: Scully finds herself coming to Mulder’s defense more often than not.

They’re not dating or in any kind of relationship other than “work partners,” yet Scully finds herself defending him and/or having to defend him. Regularly. To their colleagues, to Skinner, to random strangers who don’t know him. And having to do this all the damn time is starting to get irritating.

It’s not only because she’s tired of defending him. She’s also tired of other people not understanding Mulder; not knowing her partner well enough to see how intelligent he is and that really, he doesn’t need her to defend him. Sometimes people will listen to her more than they’ll listen to Mulder because she’s the logical, rational one, without stopping to consider that Mulder might actually have a point. Playing the role of defender is, quite honestly, wearing on her.

Seven: Scully has made some hints, both subtle and not-so-subtle, that she likes Mulder as more than a work partner.

But he’s either an idiot or he’s missed every single one of them.

Does she really need to stand so close to him? No.

Does she need to purposely touch his hand every time he passes over a file or gives her a pen? No.

Does she need to sit on the bed in his hotel room and pass takeout containers back and forth while they compare notes and work on their reports? No.

Does she need to linger even after they’ve finished their work and talk with him late into the night? Definitely not.

Does she need to wear that one suit she knows he really likes because she’s seen him look at her appreciatively in it several times? No.

Although she’d be lying if she said she didn’t do it on purpose and that she didn’t enjoy the butterflies-in-her-stomach feeling that accompanied Mulder’s appreciative (but not creepy) gaze.

Eight: Scully got stood up last night. On her birthday.

She shouldn’t have planned a date on her birthday. She knows better. It’s just that she was supposed to go on a date with this guy named Peter and he said he was available on Wednesday, so she agreed, deciding not to tell him it was her birthday.

He’d chosen an Irish pub for their date, which was a little out of Scully’s first date (and overall) comfort zone, but she decided to give it a go anyway. Why the hell not. Except, of course, for the part where Peter never showed up and never called to explain why.

So Scully sat at the bar, alone, with a few pints of beer and something called Irish Nachos to keep her company. She decided that if she was going to be stood up, she may as well make the most of it with a plate of waffle fries covered in cheese.

Along with the fact that she was stood up last night, she’s also thinking about the fact that yet another Valentine’s day has passed without a man. Without a partner, a significant other, someone to buy her a cheesy card and a box of chocolate and maybe some flowers.

She hates that she wants these things.

Eight point one : Cheap beer and cigarettes.

The cheap Irish beer was good last night. It was appropriate for the situation. It wasn’t a glass of “I’m on a date” red wine. It was three or so pints of “I don’t give a fuck” beer.

And something about this cheap beer made her crave cigarettes for the first time in over a decade. She knows they’re terrible for her and she shouldn’t want them, but she’s been frustrated out of her goddamn mind and they just sounded good.

She used to sneak cigarettes as a teenager, simultaneously exhilarated that she was breaking the rules while being terrified that her father was going to find out. It was rebellious, and it was wrong. It’s still wrong, both because smoking is terrible for you and because Dana Katherine Scully is a rule follower.

But she’s tired of following the rules. Tired of worrying about what’s good for her or bad for her. She just wants to do something without considering the consequences.

Which leads her to buy that giant double chocolate muffin, that pack of cigarettes, and that lighter.

Nine: Scully wishes, more than she would ever admit, that Mulder would just ask her out already.

She sees the way he looks at her. She knows the way she looks at him.

She’s mad about this, too, though. It’s adhering to these typical gender roles and procedures of “guy asks girl out.”

It’s 1994, damn it. She could ask him out if she wanted to, you know? Just walk into the office and say “Mulder, would you like to go to dinner with me?” And he’d say yes, and that would be the end of that. The end of that frustration and tension and that “will they won’t they” dance they keep doing around each other.

Ten: Scully doesn’t say that last part.

Instead, she says this: “Fuck off, Mulder.”

Mulder blinks several times, very slowly, as if he can’t process the words that have just come out of his partner’s mouth.

“I…” he starts, but doesn’t know what to say. Because he doesn’t know what he’s done. Because all he’s really guilty of is being hot and brilliant and really fucking distracting . Because he has nothing and everything to do with the nine other reasons she’s exhausted and frustrated and smells faintly of cigarette smoke.

Scully thinks maybe she should apologize, except  she wouldn’t know where to begin. She’d have to go through all ten point one steps of everything leading up to her telling Mulder to fuck off. So she doesn’t. She takes a bite of her muffin and says nothing.

“I’m sorry,” Mulder says. “I didn’t...I didn’t mean…” he trails off. He’s apologizing and doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for.

Scully sighs. “Yeah. Me too. It’s fine. Let’s get to work, okay?”

It’ll be a long, long while--years, in fact--before Mulder finally understands what all of this was about.