#i can do another six

[baronessblixen]

When It Rains

Year of the OTP June! The prompts I used are: sick fic – accidental love confession – downpour

Set in season 6, fluff with a hint of Diana angst. And a sick Mulder. Wc: 1,552

Tagging @today-in-fic

Dressed in an old t-shirt and sweatpants that are just the tiniest bit too big on her small frame, she elbows open her apartment door, a basket full of dirty laundry in her arms. In her hallway, she almost crashes into a soaking wet, swaying figure. Just as she’s about to berate him for loitering in front of her apartment, she realizes who exactly it is.

“Mulder?” she asks, setting down her basket.

“Oh hey,” he says as if surprised to see her here. In her hallway. In front of her apartment.

“You’re soaking wet,” she says, watching the puddle by his feet increase. He’s going to ruin the carpet. But there are more important things to focus on. “What happened to you?” Instead of an answer, he just sighs and shrugs. Looking more closely at him, she notices that his pupils are shot. Drunk. He has to be drunk. Right?

“It’s raining,” he says simply.

That’s the understatement of the year. They’re currently experiencing an exceptional downpour and according to meteorologists, the rain is not going to stop until the morning. One of the many reasons Scully decided to stay home this Saturday night. She’s still getting used to having weekends to herself. With the X-Files closed, more often than not, she finds herself with free time now. At least it gives her enough time to do her laundry.

“Come inside.”

“You were on your way out,” he says.

“I was just doing laundry,” she explains, trying to help him out of his leather jacket. It’s heavy with rain. “Let’s get you into the bathroom, Mulder. Take off your shoes.”

“Hm?” He’s just standing there, still swaying.

“Your shoes,” she says patiently. “Take them off.”

“Oh,” he says, staring down at his feet. “Right.”

“Were you out drinking?” It’s none of her business, she thinks. Except he came here, to her apartment. She has a right to know. The last time this happened, she found herself on a plane to Texas, and later out of a job. She shudders, remembering everything that came after. Her memory is still spotty in places. Another apartment, another hallway, and a bee. A kiss that never was. Then there’s a lot of icy darkness in her mind. Even now, months later, the frostbites sometimes nip at her when she least expects it.

“I’m not drunk,” he says, but his words are slurred.

“It’s okay, Mulder.” She tugs on his arms to get him to the bathroom, but he’s heavy, and he’s unwilling. He’s shaking his head so hard that she fears he’s going to crash into the wall.

“Not drunk,” he repeats. “I wasn’t feeling well,” he says. “I just- there were pills in the medicine cabinet. I took them. The first didn’t do anything, so I took something else.” Her alarm bells are ringing.

“What did you take?” she asks and he just shrugs.

“I thought it was Tylenol. Wait. I think the other was Benadryl. My throat was so itchy.”

“Mulder, you don’t have any allergies.”

“They make me sleepy,” he says and yawns as if to prove his point. “I take them sometimes. You said I shouldn’t take sleeping pills.” She cracks a small smile, glad that he listened to her for once.

“That’s good, Mulder. You said your throat is itchy?” He nods and as she looks closer at him, she realizes that he does look sick, not drunk. The area around his nose is pale, while his nose itself is red. She touches his cheeks and they’re warm to her touch. So is his forehead. “When did you start feeling sick?” And why didn’t you call me, she adds mentally.

“Yesterday,” he admits. “Thought I was just tired but,” he pauses and coughs. “I didn’t want to bother you. Now I’m coughing all over you, making you sick, too.”

“Mulder, if you were feeling sick yesterday it’s very likely you already infected me anyway.”

“You’re the medical doctor,” he says with a drowsy smile. He may not be drunk, but he’s definitely not sober either.

“I am,” she says with a soft smile. “That’s why you need to listen to me. We need to get you out of these wet clothes. Where’s your umbrella?”

“Didn’t bring one,” he says, letting Scully lead him toward the bathroom. “Wasn’t raining when I left. It started when I was at Diana’s.” Her fingers were just busy unbuttoning his shirt but now pause.

“Diana.” She repeats the name slowly, every letter bile on her tongue. Mulder, clueless to her emotional turmoil, nods and goes on.

“She kept hanging up on me,” he says. "I tried calling her. I didn't want to go over there."

“It’s okay, Mulder,” Scully says, distracting herself with undressing Mulder. Despite having worn a jacket, his shirt is so wet that she has to wring it out. “You don’t owe me an explanation.” But her mind is spinning. If he was at Diana’s, why is he here now? Why did he leave? Her thoughts are so out of control that she doesn’t notice Mulder tug at her t-shirt at first. He’s shirtless himself and his jeans are already unbuttoned. She’d prefer if he took his pants off himself, but he seems preoccupied with what’s happening in his head.

“I went to her apartment,” he says and Scully wishes she could just cover her ears and not hear what he has to say. No matter how childish that instinct may be. “I wanted her to listen to me. You always listen to me, Scully.” He says, touching her cheek. His skin is warm against hers and she has to stop herself from leaning into his touch.

“What did you want to tell her?” Scully asks in spite of herself.

“That she needs to stop. That she needs to listen. I’ve been trying to tell her, to explain it to her. About you.”

“About me?” Again, he nods. He breaks into a smile and she’s overwhelmed by the instinct to pinch his rosy cheeks. His hair, drying already, is sticking in every direction imaginable, making him look cuter than he should be.

“She doesn’t listen,” he repeats. “I keep trying to tell her that I- she wants things that I don’t want.” Her roaring heartbeat almost drowns out his voice.

“I went to her apartment to tell her that I love- that I love you.” Her eyes grow wide at his confession. He’s staring at her, calm as ever. “Can you believe she hung up on me?” She's not sure he realizes what he just admitted. What he confessed to her. He loves her. This isn’t the first time he’s saying it, of course. The last time wasn’t long ago. It was right after they saved him from the Bermuda Triangle. He’d been high on painkillers then, too. But she can’t deny that he’s said it twice now in about as many months.

“She said I was nuts.” He’s grinning from ear to ear now. As if Diana calling him crazy for loving Scully was the greatest compliment he could imagine. “Nothing I haven’t heard before. I stood my ground, Scully. Said I love you. Did you know that? I didn't mean to blurt it out just now, but... I love you. I needed Diana to know it, too. I needed her to understand it. You know what happened next?” She shakes her head gently, unsure whether she wants to know what he’s going to say next.

“She threw me out. Asked her for an umbrella and she slammed the door in my face.”

“I’m sorry, Mulder.”

“Is this what you always wear on weekends, Scully?” He touches the hem of her shirt and she blushes.

“Sometimes,” she says. “It’s my laundry outfit.”

“I like it. I like it a lot.”

“I think you’re delirious.”

“I think you might be right,” he admits, coughing again.

“Can you take off your jeans or do you need help?”

“I wouldn’t mind help,” he says with a grin, “but I can do it myself.”

“I’m going to get you something dry to wear,” she says, squeezing his shoulder. She uses the moment away from Mulder to take a deep breath and sort her thoughts. Tonight, she won’t contemplate what any of this means. But she knows she’ll have to hide a grin the next time she sees Diana Fowley.

When she returns to the bathroom, Mulder is naked. She averts her eyes, even though he doesn’t seem to mind. He helps her into the sweatpants and the t-shirt. When they’re done and Mulder is dressed, he smiles at her warmly.

“We're matching," he says proudly. He's right, too. "You’re not going to throw me out, are you?” he asks.

“If I did, I’d give you an umbrella.”

“Thank you, Scully.” His grin is accompanied by another cough, reminding her that it's very likely he'll feel worse in a couple of hours. She'll be there for him it that's the case. Just like she hopes he will be there for her when she catches whatever is ailing him.

He’s asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow. She watches him for a moment before she presses a kiss to his forehead. I love you, too, she thinks but doesn’t dare say. Not yet, anyway.

[oh-gh0st]

i heart these rivals so much. maybe they'll kill each other. maybe they'll kiss. maybe they'll make ou

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

jin guangshan and lan qiren yaoi perhaps? since their shapes create a perfect balance?

Two old men perform worlds first successful 96.

[dandeleon]

happy mcgucket monday!!! they're makin a pizza!!!!!!!!🍕🩷

(fiddlefords shirt design is stolen from this post btw lol)

[starry-bi-sky]

more clone^2 memes because i think they're funny

[al-luviec]

something simple to try to get out of art block (it didn't work)

[tealares-art]

bunch of doodles from today ^v^ first pic is from yesterday..!!

[averlym]

fairest of the fair

[seagull-scribbles]

This is more an allegory for what's wrong with my soul

[hydralune]

I was cheering over being free from Destiny's Call but am I really free if I still check it every day...

Anyway, I enjoy the flavour text for the classes. Clarence's socks are based on an actual pair of saba-patterned socks I own. 🐟

[serendippertyy]

A raripie for the soul please <3

gf inspired cupcakes 😋💙

[teddybeartoji]

thank you everybody who crossed their fingers and toes bc aventurine AND acheron are now both safely at home:3333333333

[heyyesimtrash-whatofit]

Hiya J!

I'm obsessed with your Docpocalypse AU, its so hilarious!

Could we see Jennifer getting dragged into this, seeing all the Docs and a very tired Marty? :D

Heyo!!! So glad you’re enjoying this stupid au! Apologies for the lack of color, but this weekend got stupidly busy for me for some reason. Anyway, let’s drag Jen into this mess!!

Buckle up, Jennifer, because this ride just gets wilder with every passing minute!

[strandedcrow]

five nights at freddyyyyssss that’s where i wanna be f

[blazingstar29]

The way my driving test is literally tomorrow i'm going to cry and be sick

[ms-demeanor]

Sleep hours!

1 is Too Late

2 is Best

1 is too late because I have to be at work 9 at the latest (even on weekends 1 is too late because I would like to not fuck up the rhythm)

But 2 or 3 is more like when I would naturally go to sleep if the rest of society was Fake News and I could just do my own thing.

The fun thing about the normal distributions on all of those polls is that they suggest that (among the self-selected sample population of tumblr users who click on polls that I've created) AT BEST 40% of people are ideally suited to a standard 9-5 schedule and the actual majority of the population would like something at least slightly different but no we all have to have fake news bedtime. Actually it's not even fake news bedtime it's fake news get-out-of-bed time because I can go to bed whenever I want. But watch out.