#i sincerely believe together we can take a stand and show dc how it's done

[glitter-stained]

The streets are saying the new Batman and Robin sequel is gonna be angry jaybin crazy how I had no hope but still disappointed ☹️

Welp, I guess now's a good time to focus my energy back on my canon compliant jaybin wips again 🫤 I have a long list of jaybin stories to write to complete the 30ish issues of his robin run if someone is interested in participating please for the love of everything holy reach out to me when can make it a group project it'll be fun

[the-bau-quinjet]

And I confess, babe

Part 6 of In Breakable Heaven!

Summary: Feelings are confessed... sort of.

Warnings: none 

Word count: ~2400

“There’s something I haven’t been completely honest about.” You blurted out taking a break from cleaning. It had been a few months since Halloween, and you and Spencer have hung out whenever possible, but never calling anything a date. You had both gotten pretty busy with the holidays, but still made time. He is basically your best friend, but you want more than that. You just aren’t sure he feels the same way. 

Spencer turned from where he was reading on the couch immediately mirroring the nervous expression he could see on your face. “What is it? You know you can tell me anything. That’s what friends are for.” Ugh, friends. This is so confusing. As he walked up to you, you thought you noticed a glimmer of hope in his eyes, but you brush it off. You need to focus.

You have never told any of your friends about this. It’s almost like you were living two lives and all the sudden you wanted them to merge. Well, really you just wanted an excuse to sing love songs to the man standing in front of you without completely freaking him out. “You know how much I love Taylor Swift, right?” You could see the confusion growing on his face 

“Um, yeah. That’s not exactly a secret…” he chuckles as he searches for the truth in your eyes. 

“Well, um... I kind of... well… it’s not really a big deal, but I… you see…”

 “Y/N, just tell me. I promise not to freak out.” He interrupted, the confusion evident on his face.

“Okay, just… I’m inaTaylorSwiftcoverband…” You blurt, the words rushing from your mouth. You cover your face with your hands. Of course, boy genius understood the mess of a sentence you just said, realization slowly dawning on him.

 “Y/N, why were you so nervous to tell me?” He sounded shocked. “You know I would support you no matter what. When’s your next show? I would love to go see you perform.” The sincerity in his voice made tears well up in your eyes. 

You rushed to hug him as you said “I don’t know why I was so nervous. I guess people can be really harsh when you are a Taylor Swift fan. Nobody takes you seriously, ya know? I started the band because her music made me better at conveying my emotions. It was actually a kind of therapy for me at first, but then I fell in love with performing. I actually wanted to tell you so I could invite you, and the rest of the team, to my next show. It’s Saturday night.”

 He ran his hands up and down your back before pulling away to look you in the eyes. “I will be there.” He said, matter-of-factly. 

“Yay!” You were practically jumping with joy that the conversation went well. It felt kind of stupid to be so worried over other people’s perception of your music interests, but you’ve always been self-conscious of being the “weird” girl. It made even the smallest decision so hard for you. “I want you to invite the rest of the team, but keep it a surprise. I haven’t told Penelope, and I’ve known her 2 years longer than you.” He laughed as you realized how comfortable you must have felt with Spencer to be inviting him and his friends to see you perform. Usually the only way you made it through was knowing there was nobody in the audience that would recognize you enough to make fun of you. But, it was time for a change. You have always been proud of your accomplishments, and the people you called your friends should be a part of that.

 “You should know there’s always a theme to the show. I like to tell a story with her songs, pulling from all the albums helps make it more cohesive.” You wanted him to be a little bit prepared for what you had planned. 

“What’s the story for this show?” Spencer asked, curiosity brewing in his mind. 

“Well Doc, I’m afraid that’s a secret. You’ll have to wait and see.” Spencer kept pestering you to find out the theme, but you refused to tell him. Finally, he returned to reading as you cleaned the rest of your apartment.

--

 Saturday came much faster than you were expecting. The nerves you felt kept growing as you tried to finalize the set list you would be performing in just a few hours. The stories you usually tell don’t normally rely so heavily on your own life experiences. But, that’s why you fell in love with Taylor’s music in the first place. The songs are so relatable. It’s incredible how well she can convey emotions and stories with her lyrics. Plus, this is your chance to tell Spencer how you feel without having too much pressure. If he doesn’t say anything about the obvious theme, you could just pretend you made up the story for the audience. It would be fine. No pressure at all.

 The hours until your show drifted away as you got ready and arrived at the venue. You were actually playing in an auditorium instead of a bar for the first time in a few months. The night had been heavily marketed for couples since Valentine’s day is next week, but you knew your friends would all be there to support you. Going over the set list with the band, they knew exactly what mood you were going for. It was clear there were three sections to the night: 1) the break up, drawing heavily on your experience with Drew, 2) moving on from the failed relationship as you form a new crush, possibly on an incredibly hot doctor, and 3) where you wanted this new relationship to go. That storyline is what made the marketing so good. Couples could come and just be in love, relating the music to their own lives. Plus, people were itching for something to do since no real artists were touring in DC right now.

 You glance out at the audience as the lights flicker, indicating only a few minutes until show time. You find Spencer and the rest of the crew, barring Hotch and Rossi, easily as you put them in the front row. You wanted to be able to see their faces, or completely look over their heads. It all depends on the expression of the one and only Spencer Reid.

 “Hello, and welcome to the show!” You try to hide the nerves. You’ve done this plenty of times, but knowing who is in the audience is taking a toll. “In case you didn’t know, with every show I do, I try to tell a story. Usually, it is based on a movie or a book, but today I am trying something a little bit new. No book, no movie, just a story. It’s got three parts to it. Part one sucks.” You laugh along with the audience. “It’s about a breakup and learning to move on. So let’s get started!”

 You immediately jump into the first song Babe. Technically it features Taylor Swift, but she wrote it so it counts. Plus, it is the perfect song to describe your feelings to finding Drew cheating on you, and she did write it.

 This is the last time I’ll ever call you Babe.

 “Now, I know how hard it can be to get over someone who you’ve been with a long time. Especially when combined with the pain of them cheating on you. This next song describes that mentality of recognizing that someone won’t change because you want them to. Sometimes, the best thing to do is cry and scream and move on.” The instrumental to You’re Not Sorry begins to play as you calm you’re nerves.

 This is the last straw. Don’t wanna hurt anymore. And you can tell me that you’re sorry, but I don’t believe you baby like I did before. You’re not sorry. No, no, no no.

 “I know, I know. No more sad songs! After you break up with someone, it can be pretty hard to not miss what you had. But eventually, you’ll get to a point where when they call you in the middle of the night, all you have to say is We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together. Like ever.”

 You make it through the next song without a hitch. The crowd is clearly enjoying the show, which is actually helping with your nerves. You’ve glanced at your friends a few times, but nothing that lingers. You’re not quite mentally prepared to look at Spencer yet.

 “With every breakup, there is some amount of time afterward where you can’t help but think about them. No matter how badly it ended, there is at least a day. It could slowly fade out or it could just disappear one day, like magic. Either way, this song is how I personally feel once that window of time ends.”

 I forgot that you existed. It isn’t love, it isn’t hate, it‘s just indifference.

 This song really helped turn the mood around. Everybody is dancing and singing, clearly enjoying themselves. As the song ends, your nerves return a bit. This is the scary part.

 “And with that, we move on to part 2! As the saying goes, the best way to get over him is to get under someone else. Well, that’s not exactly where this is going, but it follows the same general logic.” The instrumental to Enchanted has already started as you finish the intro “Meeting someone who helps take your mind off the bad by making new memories.”

 All I can say is I was enchanted to meet you. This night is sparkling, don’t you let it go. I’m wonderstruck, blushing all the way home.

 This is the first song you are singing directly to Spencer, even if you can’t even look at him. You glance at every other member of the BAU, but you just can’t bring yourself to admit it to him. Not yet.

 Please don’t be in love with someone else. Please don’t have somebody waiting on you.

 You can feel the sting in your throat that comes from thinking of Spencer being with someone else, finally making you look at him. He seems happy. He’s not dancing as much as everyone else, but he is swaying. You count it as a win.

 “Now, I’m not saying the only way to get over a breakup is a new relationship. Sometimes, you just need a friend.” You clear your throat to go right into the next song.

 Wanna hang out? Yeah, sounds like fun. Video games, you pass me a note. Sleeping in tents. It’s nice to have a friend.

 This is where it’s supposed to be obvious who you are singing to. None of your newly formed friends really know the extent of your relationship with Spencer. But, you’ve convinced him to try a lot of new things. It started small, with hiking, but eventually you got him to agree to a short camping trip over a long weekend. It was freezing since it was November, but you just cuddled together around the fire. That is what makes this so nerve wracking. You are terrified of messing up your friendship.

 “Friends are the best resource post breakup. They always know how to put a smile on my face, no matter what I’m upset about. You could go so far as to say I’m Only Me When I’m With You.” You laugh at the corny joke, knowing that’s the next song you’re singing. “To be completely honest, this is kind of a story of the past few months of my life. I had a pretty bad breakup, but I met some new friends who really helped me through it. It’s nice to be completely honest about yourself with someone else.”

 I don’t try to hide my tears, my secrets, or my deepest fears. And through it all, nobody gets me like you do.

 “Now, we move onto the third and final part of the show. We’ve covered the past and the present, so all that’s left is the future! The future is unknown, which is kinda of scary when you think about it. So, it can really help to have someone who makes you feel Fearless.” So many lyrics make you want to stare at Spencer.

 I wanna ask you dance right there, in the middle of the parking lot.

-

Run your hands through your hair, absentmindedly making me want you.

-

And I don’t know why, but with you I’d dance in a storm in my best dress, fearless.

-

You’ve decided against looking at Spencer and the rest of the profilers. If you make eye contact you know they would 100% be able to see right through you. Just two more songs to get through. You don’t even pause to talk before the next song is playing.

 Cause all I know is you said, “Hello” and your eyes look like coming home.

 You’ve spent so long thinking about Spencer and his perfect freaking eyes that you subconsciously glance at him right then. The second you realize, you look away again, missing the look of complete adoration on his face.

 And meet me there tonight and let me know that it’s not all in my mind.

 “Alrighty folks, I’ve got one more song for you. You probably could’ve guessed it by now, part 3 is about a future relationship, one I’m not currently in. But that’s the thing about the future, you never really know what it holds.” This is where shit goes a little bit sideways. You didn’t plan on changing the lyrics. Most of the profilers seem to miss it, not recognizing that you switched one very crucial word in the song. The one profiler that notices the mistake has spent the last four months listening to every Taylor Swift song ever written because he’s spent so much time with you, and you are always listening to something.

 Dark jeans and your converse, look at you. Oh damn, never seen that color blue.

 Oh damn is right. You somehow manage to make it through the rest of the song, but now Spencer knows you were singing to him. You can’t decide if you’re glad it’s out there or if you are going to puke the second you run off stage.

 “Delicate is about the beginnings of a romance. It’s that point where you are scared any sudden movements will shatter everything you’ve built so far.” You take one final deep breathe. “It’s about admitting your feelings because you can’t move forward without taking the next step. That’s what the future is all about. Thank you all for coming, goodnight!” And with that, you left.

 tag list:

@mac99martin​ @goldeng1rl8​ @eevee0722 @l0ve-0f-my-life @haylaansmi @dinonuggets15 @laurakirsten0502 @green-intervention @burnin-passion @takeyourleap-of-faith @secretpickleprofessordean @awkwardnesshabitat @loveheathens @fan-girl-97

[damonsvftie]

𝐑𝐨𝐧 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠

MEGA MASTERLIST

HARRY POTTER MASERLIST

Summary: When he makes his friends ask you out for him, he tries everything in his attempt to make your date special, even when everything seems to be going wrong.

Note: if you want to read DC or Draco fics then link to my masterlist is up there ^^

As you take your seat in Professor Snape’s class, you open your book to page 394 when you see a scrunched up note pressed between two random pages in your textbook. “What the hell is this?” You murmur under your breathe, your face twisting as you secretly unfold the note under your desk, making sure Snape doesn’t see you.

“Y/n,

Just found out some incredibly weird news meet me at lunch

Harry Potter,

Why was Harry Potter sending you notes during class? What did he want to talk to you about? You were no where near friends with the Golden Trio so you were completely baffled when you found out Potter wanted to have a chat with you.

The clock on the wall chimes 12, and everyone grabs their stuff and exits the classroom, making their way to the great hall. You find it incredibly strange to be walking on the other side of the hall as you hesitantly pace up to the boy with the round glasses as his eyes skim each word off the daily prophet.

You can feel your muscles tending up as you tap him on the shoulder causing him to swiftly turn his head around. “Uh..hello, didn’t you need to talk to me about something?” Your voice trying to put up a certain demeanour as you brush your hair out of your face.

Immediately you see Ronald Weasley snap his head around, a tint of red flushing his pale cheeks as he glances up at you before chugging on his water rapidly. “Is something wrong with Ron?” You ask concerned as Harry and Hermione give each other a certain look before erupting into laughter. “Yeah..I’m gonna go,” the tone in your voice weary as you take a few step backs from the three of them. Were they mocking you?

“No wait!” He protests as he tries to pull himself together, Hermione’s giggles trailing behind him. “Ron should we tell her?” The tone in Granger’s voice almost sounding as if she was trying to mock him for a reason I wasn’t yet aware off. “Ow! Just get it over and done with will you,” he scowls as he buries his head into his hands.

“Weasley over here has a crush on you and well- he was going to ask you out but he’s too much of a chicken to do so,” explains Harry while Hermione muffles her giggles with her hand trying not to sound rude. Your face is blank with expression and you don’t really know how to respond since you can’t really seem to comprehend.

You pause for a incredulous amount of time and you can feel the heat rising to Ron’s cheeks as his lip curve into a frown. “I’d love too,” you answer as you give the three of them a warm smile before trotting back to your seat. You can’t help but turn around one last time too see the wide grin on his face as he watches you leave.

—

“So- where are we headed to first?” You ask curiously to see what plans the redhead has made for your date. “The..three..broomsticks,” he stutters as he gazes into your alluring eyes as if he were hypnotised.

When you make it inside, his attempts to be a gentlemen warm your heart. He helps you remove your cloak and tucks your chair in for you. The silence between the two of you as you wait for your drinks is not how you’d imagined a date to be like. Nervous, he drums his fingers onto the counter of the table, glancing up at you every now and then.

“Is everything okay?” Your voice soothing as he feels butterflies fluttering around his stomach. “Yeah- totally- ... it’s just.. bloody hell I’d never imagined you’d want to go on a date with someone like me,” the astonishment on his face really showing up as he exaggerates his words.

The waiter returns with your warm butterbeer as you both take a long sip out of the foamy drink. “You’ve got some.. foam on your mouth,” he gestures before you wipe at it. You can him snort when he tries to hold in his giggles. When he releases all the laughter inside of him, he somehow manages to kick the table and spill all his drink over him. “Blimey- these were new trousers as well!” He groans as he tries to clean up the mess. Now it’s your turn to laugh.

The next stop is Zonko’s Joke Shop. Well not entirely. “You never told me that your brothers owned the place?” Your face twisted in excitement as you jump on the spot. Ron tries to drag you far far away as possible but you can’t seem to resist. “Come on Ron! It’ll be fun,” you mention before barging into the store, his hands folded against his chest as he follows behind you.

Already knowing the place, he tries to show you around but then his twin brothers offer to take you on a tour of the building. “Bloody hell! Can you lot not try and blow this one shot I have with her?” He whispers agitatedly to Fred and George but it’s too late. They’ve already escorted you away from him and you don’t seem to realise you’ve left him behind.

When you return back from the tour, you can see him leaning against the wall looking slightly infuriated as if things weren’t going according to plan. Because they weren’t.

“Oh Ron- I’m so sorry- I just got really carried away,” your lips pursing into a tight line as you hope he reconsiders the actual sincerity of your words. It’s not long before the old grumpy version of him is replaced with the more goofy side he tends to show especially when he’s got something up his sleeve. “There’s one last place I’ve got too show you, and I promise it’s bloody brilliant!”

—

“Are you sure about this?” Your face twisting into horror as you fiddle with your fingers from afar. “Oh come on y/n! You don’t actually believe in ghosts do you?” He taunts. Giving in, you find yourself getting even closer to the shrieking shack as the two of you stand against the barbed wire that your not supposed to cross . You can see right through him and you know for a fact that he’s probably wetting his pants right now. You can see the way he tries to control his breathing as the two of you stare at the shack. “It’s supposed to be Britain’s most haunted building,” you state, your body quivering in the cold.

You were fully aware that he was just trying to put up this cool demeanour but was actually very skeptical about the whole thing. Deciding to trigger him, you asked him if the two of you could move even closer. “No thanks, I think I’m great here,” he gulps, trying to maintain his cool.

Suddenly a loud sound of cracking causes the two of you to spin around, sweat now dripping from his forehead as you huddle closer to him. “Did you hear that?” You ask as you hyperventilate. He frantically nods his head before a handful of snowballs get thrown at both of you.

Your faces twist is panic as your hands intertwine while you each let out a blood curdling scream, running as fasts as your legs could carry you far away as possible to the otherside. “Oh my Merlin that WAS a ghost,” you gasp as you both try to catch a breath.

His eyes trail down his arm to his hand , where your desperately clutching onto him almost as if your not willing to let go. You notice his gaze fixed onto the entanglement of your fingers as you prop up on your tiptoes and kiss the pale surface of his cheek. His eyes grow wide in shock as whatever he wants to say is stuck in the back of his throat. “Did you just- kiss me?” His breathing become rapid. “Did I?” You ask playfully as if you have no idea about whatever he’s saying, before leaning in and pecking him on his slightly chapped lips. “Bloody hell.. you did it again,” he states looking baffled.

Out of no where, you can hear someone laughing and that someone is the famous Harry Potter as he removes his invisibility cloak, practically dying at the reaction the two of you had on him. “Both of you actually thought it was a ghost,” he slightly chokes on his words before opening his mouth once more. “Wait- did I miss something?” The last word rolling off the tip of his tongue. “Lots,” you reply before walking off with Ronald, swinging your arms as your hands lock together.

[sassycassie-s-series]

All My Fault 2

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC, BatFam - Damian Wayne/Batman

Rating: PG

Notes: (Masterlist) @batboys-and-other-messes was beta-reading this and mentioned that no one likes to read just the filler chapter (as chapter 2 seems to be) but it’s so LONG to combine chapters 2 and 3. So my solution is to put them up on the same day so you can move on immediately.

Tag List (Open): @welovegroot @probsjosh @nanna-the-batmum @batboys-and-other-messes

Chapter 1

^^^^^

Angrily, Damian shucked off his overcoat to reveal his Batman body armor—the bat-shaped emblem on his chest familiar but updated from the one his father wore. He threw his coat off to the side and stormed over to the med-bay, peeling the top of his body armor off as he did so. Baring his torso revealed a patchwork of scars, fresh cuts and bruises, and faded Henna tattoos.

“Baby bird,” Dick tried.

“Don’t, Grayson,” Damian snapped. “All the fear and heartache over losing her is all my fault. Me. Now. Because I wanted to let you all exchange farewells. My heart got the best of me and I ended up causing all that pain.”

“Damian, there may still be a way to change the past—” Jason started.

“Yeah, time can be fluid, remember?” Tim put in.

“The timeways are shut,” Damian retorted, whirling around. “There is no possible alternative to returning Cloudburst to the past!”

“Dami—”

“Shut up!” Damian interrupted.

“Enough!” I shouted, catching everyone off-guard. “Enough. We can talk about this later. Tim, see what else you can find, yeah?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

Dick moved to go talk to Damian, but I caught his arm. “Let me try first,” I requested.

“Alright,” Dick relented.

I went over to Damian—who was angrily wrapping up the bleeding cut on his arm. “Here,” I offered gently. “Let me.” I took the gauze from his arm, removed what he’d already done, cut it off, and started again. He sat on a stool with a huff and refused to look at me. I disinfected the slice in his skin and wound the gauze carefully but firmly over the cut, making sure it wouldn’t leak. “I don’t blame you, Damian,” I continued quietly.

“Tt,” he tutted, but didn’t say anything else.

I set my jaw. “This is not the childish behavior I’d expect from Batman,” I pressed.

He shot me a glare of green fire. “I don’t need your scolding, McCloud,” he snapped.

“I'm not scolding you. I'm telling you as a friend that you’re acting like an idiot,” I retorted, tying the gauze around his cut and sitting down on another stool. “We’re the same age right now, Damian. So, I'm talking to you as a true equal and a friend. Are you going to listen to me as one?”

He looked away from me and refused to meet my gaze.

“Hey. Remember when I chewed out Jay for an hour after he got himself shot in a chink in his body armor?” I asked. Damian smirked—and tried really hard not to. “I’ve always been the one who cares too much. Maybe even more than Dick. I just… I want you to be okay. All of you. I worry because I love you guys. And I want you to stop blaming yourself. Contrary to your belief, this is not the worst thing that’s happened to me.” I put my hands on my knees. He finally met my gaze. “C’mon Damian. Admit it: you’re happy to see me.”

He scoffed. “Tt. Have you ever known me to be happy?” he retorted.

I grinned. “I seem to recall a night when you were twelve and we both stole ice cream out of the freezer at four-AM, sat at the counter, and gossiped for an hour,” I remarked. “I’ve never seen you smile that much before or since.”

Damian’s eyebrows twitched closer together and then relaxed. “I recall the occasion,” he said.

I leaned over and nudged him in the arm. “C’mon, Damian. You’re happy to see me.”

There was a moment of silence. “I am. I am relieved that you are alive as well,” he replied.

I grinned.

Something grabbed me around the neck and yanked me off my stool. “Whoa—ack!” I exclaimed.

“Father, stand down!” Damian ordered, leaping to his feet. “She’s no imposter!” I gagged against Bruce’s arm against my windpipe. I’d been in his chokehold before once—during training—so I reacted accordingly, flipping him off of me and dropping into a fight stance. He landed with a heavy thud on the floor of the cave.

“Bruce, it’s me,” I said, putting my palms out in a “Whoa Nelly” sort of gesture. “It’s Cloudburst.”

“Cloudburst disappeared eight years ago,” Bruce pointed out, picking himself back to his feet.

“It was my fault, Father,” Damian said. Bruce rounded on his son. Damian sighed and explained what happened. Bruce turned back to me. His sharp blue gaze no longer contained hostility, but there was always something intimidating about him.

Especially when he approached you.

Slowly.

I backed up a step, trying not to freak out. I knew Damian standing behind him was Batman now, but to me Bruce Wayne was still the Dark Knight and it was terrifying when he was standing over you. Jason once described him as a nightmare in a cape.

I heartily agreed. Even when he wasn’t wearing the cape.

He took another step closer.

“Please don’t snap my neck,” I squeaked, unsure of what else to say and not knowing how to read his expression.

Another step closer.

He hauled me unceremoniously into a hug. Crushing me.

“Hey Cloud, didn’t I tell you once that B always loved his girls more than his boys?” Dick called with good humor.

“Shut up, Dick!” I called, giving Bruce an awkward hug back. “We all know I'm not actually part of the family.”

“Close enough,” Jason remarked.

Bruce let me go. He was not a hugger—even less so than Damian—so he must have actually missed me to initiate the hug. He looked me up and down before turning to Damian. “Take her back to her room. You both need rest. Time travel is hard on your bodies.”

Damian gave Bruce a curt nod. “Yes, Father,” he said. He jerked his head at me for me to follow him. Dick would have offered me his arm. I smirked at the thought and followed Damian upstairs. “Your quarters are just as you left them. They—we—could never bring ourselves to clean it out.” He slid the clock shut behind us. We started to cross the foyer.

“I'm glad I was missed. Honestly, I never felt like I belonged.”

“No, you belonged,” Damian promised, not meeting my eye. “Dick would be the first to admit he loved you as family.”

“Of course he would. It’s Dick,” I replied, trailing up the stairs. Damian snickered.

“A fair point, to be certain,” Damian agreed.

We walked in silence for a moment down the halls.

“Cloudburst, if you return to the past… this future as we know it may no longer exist. I… I don’t know what will happen.”

“Let’s not worry about that tonight, okay?” I suggested. “You’re tired. I'm tired. Get some sleep. We’ll see what we can figure out in the morning. Tomorrow is a new day.”

He pursed his lips. “Alright,” he relented.

We reached my bedroom. “Good night, Damian. See you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, McCloud,” he replied, turning on his heel and leaving. I went into my old room. Apart from a layer of dust, it was literally exactly how I left it. My jewelry—that I never wore with my suit—was sitting on my desk.

I smiled, went to the bathroom, showered, pulled on my pajamas, and got in bed.

^^^^^

Knock-knock! Soft knuckles tapped my door. I woke up.

“Who is it?” I mumbled.

“Me,” Dick said.

“Come in,” I replied.

The door opened.

Dick in his mid-thirties looked mostly the same as Dick in his late-twenties, who I was used to. He had several more worry lines on his face, but for the most part his bright cheerfulness was still intact. “May I sit down?” he asked.

I moved over so I was no longer on the edge of my bed. “Feel free,” I replied.

He perched on the edge. “It is good to see you, Cloudy,” he said sincerely. “Jason nearly tore the world apart looking for you. Tim overheated the Bat-computer twice—something B thought was impossible—trying to find where you’d gone. I missed you like crazy. But, to be honest, I think Damian missed you the most. Whether you were ever formally adopted or not, this family loves you.” He ruffled my damp hair.

“Thanks, Dick,” I said. “I love you guys too.”

“I’ll be honest, it is weird seeing you and Damian the same age.” Dick chuckled. “I bet he’s freaking out about it. Finally taller than you.” I snorted. “He’s always looked up to you. Both literally and figuratively.” He paused thoughtfully. “Actually, he passed your height when he was fifteen,” Dick added.

“He’s taller than Jay and even Bruce,” I commented.

“Yeah. Shortest to the tallest in less than eight years. It was kinda weird. I’ll always see him as my tiny little Robin.” Dick smiled fondly at the row of framed pictures I kept on my dresser—one photo of me with each member of the Bat-family, and a group picture. “Tim and Jason were both so offended when he passed them up.”

“I'm sorry I missed it.”

Dick set his hand on my knee through the covers. “We’ll find a way to get you home to your time, Cloudy. I promise,” he said.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, big bird,” I teased, giving him a hug. “Even if I can’t get back to the past, at least I'm still with you guys.”

He squeezed me. “Good point.” He let me go. “I’ll let you get back to sleep now. ‘Night kiddo.”

“G’night Dick,” I replied as the eldest son left my bedroom. I burrowed back down in my covers and dozed off again.

^^^^^

“Weird seeing her again?” Jason asked Dick quietly as they slipped down the hall to their rooms.

“Yup,” Dick replied honestly. “Weirder still seeing her and Damian at the same age at the same time. Like, she was supposed to be twenty-nine with you. Not still twenty-one.”

“Bet Damian’s excited about it though,” Jason remarked mischievously.

“What? Why?” Dick wondered.

“Oh come on, big bird,” Jason retorted. “He totally had a crush on her when he was thirteen—same as you having a crush on Babs.”

Dick’s jaw fell open and he smacked Jason in the chest. “No way!” he protested. “Damian was never the kind to—” Dick stopped and thought about it. He shook his head. “No. I don’t believe you.”

“Oh. So you don’t remember him showing off around her?”

“Damian always was a showoff.”

“More so than usual when McCloud was around?”

“No,” Dick said.

Jason rolled his eyes. “This is why Tim is the observant one,” he muttered. “Damian totally crushed on Cloudburst the same way he did on Supergirl for a while—except no one ever asked about it.” He nudged Dick in the arm. “Maybe ask him later. Tell him I mentioned it though, so he’s not tempted to throw something at you.”

“He’ll throw something at you instead.”

Jason shrugged. “Yeah. But I’ll probably catch it,” he commented casually. “Plus, now that they’re the same age and she’s stuck here… Meh. Just ask him about it. ‘Night Dickiebird.” Jason ducked into his room before Dick could say anything.

Dick rolled his eyes and went to bed. “I am definitely not asking Damian if he had a crush on her,” he muttered.

Next

[ghostbustermelanieking]

reconsideration

s6 vignette: the beginning, triangle, dreamland, the rain king, tithonus, one son, arcadia, milagro, the unnatural, field trip. part of my series that i write as i rewatch the x files

summary: Times Mulder and Scully reconsidered the status of their relationship.

note: I realize this is, like, the thinnest premise ever, but season 6 UST is some of the best UST. This story most directly links up to Flights and Renegade (and leads into Auld Acquaintance), but it does contain part of the Tithonus scene from The Fountain. (It is not necessary to read any of these works to understand this story, as they can all technically stand alone.)

i.

She’s been wondering about the kiss.

In the days between their mad escape from Antarctica and their flight back to DC from Australia, she’d been considering the encounter in the hallway. The things she said, the things he said. How close they came to kissing. Some culmination five years deep. The sudden pain in her neck, the way she’d dodged it even though she hadn’t meant to. And then everything that had happened after, blurring together into a horrifying montage. The paramedics, the gunshot. The pain and the cold, the freezing cold. Mulder’s mouth on hers, breathing life into her. He came to Antarctica for her. Antarctica. To the ends of the fucking earth.

Scully is having some trouble wrapping her head around it all, but that doesn’t change what happened. That he saved her, that he said she saved him, made him a whole person. That he tried to kiss her—even if it was only to make her stay, he still wanted to kiss her. Wants to kiss her. And she wanted to kiss him, she has realized. She wants to kiss him back.

She hugs him in the hospital when he gives her the cross back and she leans against his shoulder in the airport like it’s effortless. She faces down the Office of Professional Review back in DC for him, for their X-Files. She meets him at the reflecting pool, tries to reassure him that they can bring down the people who did this, and he tries to push her away in return. He tells her that she was right to want to leave, that he is not going to watch her die. Almost the opposite of what he said in the hallway. He tried to make her stay because he cares about her, and now he is pushing her away because he cares about her. Because he is scared.

She doesn’t know how she would’ve reacted if he’d said these things when she wanted to quit, but she knows how she will react now. He pushes and she pushes back. He was right before, about wanting to quit with a clear conscience, but she can’t do that, there’s too much left to fight for. She takes his hand and repeats his earlier words back to him: “If I quit now, they win.” It’s some sort of reassurance—reassuring him that she isn’t leaving, or maybe reassuring herself that she wouldn’t have left in the first place. She squeezes his hand. She thinks that maybe something can happen between them now. She thinks maybe it’s time.

And then everything goes to hell.

She can’t find what Mulder wants her to find, what he wanted to show OPR. Or rather, what she finds is not what he wanted to hear. They really should have discussed everything before the meeting itself. Mulder is clearly upset with her, and things only escalate when they don’t get the X-Files back. Instead, Jeffrey Spender and Diana Fowley are assigned to it. Scully doesn’t even have time to process it, to maybe have a bit of contempt for the woman who is apparently Mulder’s ex swooping in and taking their jobs from them, because Mulder is too busy feeling betrayed himself. Skinner has led him to a file, some attack in Arizona, and by some paradox, he manages to convince her to go. She doesn’t know what she’s thinking—maybe that they can find more proof, more reason to go back on the X-Files. But Mulder’s theories at the crime scene don’t make sense, even if the evidence doesn’t fit with the crime report.

He is upset with her, at the scene, angry that she is doing exactly what he said has kept him honest, has saved him, and she doesn’t understand it. She tries to understand, takes his hand and repeats his earlier words back to him. “You told me that my science kept you honest. That it made you question your assumptions. That by it, I’d made you a whole person,” she says, trying to remind him. What he’d said was why she’d stayed. “If I change now… it wouldn’t be right, or honest.”

He doesn’t listen. He waxes some poetic bullshit about extraterrestrial life, says, “I’m sorry, Scully, but this time your science is wrong,” before he walks away from her, leaving her blinking in astonishment. Maybe a little hurt. She stayed because he said he needed her. But this is one of the times that she thinks he would like it better if she just wasn’t here to debunk his theories. In this brief moment of chest-stinging hurt, everything Mulder said in that hallway feels like a taunt.

It gets worse. It actually gets worse. They find Gibson half-dead in their car. She convinces Mulder that they need to protect him, but the next thing she knows, Diana Fowley is popping up and dragging Mulder off to chase some lead, leaving her behind to protect the boy. Which she can’t do, apparently; Gibson disappears from the hospital she takes him to. Supposedly, he shows up at wherever Mulder and Fowley went off to, locked in a room with what Mulder claims killed those people in Arizona. He doesn’t reappear.

After it’s all over, Mulder is still unwilling to forgive and forget. He says some biting things that cut her to the core, credits Fowley over her, makes some allusions to Diana not refusing to believe things because of science.

Scully clenches her jaw and plunges on, although she’s not entirely sure why. She reminds him that she doesn’t doubt him, that it comes down to a matter of trust. She asks him to trust her. He has said before that she is the only one he trusts. Maybe she wants that faith back. Maybe she wants him to acknowledge how much he claims to need her. One in five billion, making him a whole person. What else is she supposed to think?

If he is willing to forget what happened in that hallway, then she can forget it, too.

ii.

He is in love with Dana Scully, and he wants to tell her how he feels.

He might be an official time traveler who’s high off his ass on painkillers, but goddamnit, he is in love with her. He has been in love with her for months, years. He wanted to tell her over the summer but he was scared; he thought that if he pushed her away, she would leave and be safe from the X-Files forever. And then he’d been an asshole to her, really fucked it up. But it’s been good since then. Good. They do background checks and manure checks, drive the country like they always have and Mulder books them haunted hotels, passes her glossy brochures over the center console of the car that announce urban legends he can sometimes convince her to chase off hours. They eat together in diners, eat lunch in the break room or go out sometimes in a cliquish way that makes the other bullpen agents whisper. They see each other on the weekend, sometimes, when Mulder isn’t chasing ghosts or ghouls. They spent Halloween looking for demons in a cornfield, and Scully had nearly bent in half laughing at him when it turned out to be kids in crudely-made masks. God, he loves her. He loves her and he wants to tell her.

He can find her anywhere, he proved that today. He found her in 1939. She was beautiful in that wine-colored dress, her hair all curled and her eyes icy the way they get when she is absolutely done with his nonsense. It wasn’t really her, but she was brave and confident and faced down Nazis like it was nothing. She saved the world and he kissed her because he thought he’d never see her again. He deserved that punch. But he is in love with his partner—his partner who is right here beside him. He loves her and he wants to tell her.

“Hey, Scully?” he says as she starts to walk away, rising up on one elbow.

She comes back, standing close so that they are almost nose to nose. “Yes?” she says, very serious.

He looks deeply into her eyes, trying to tell her everything he wants to tell her without even having to speak. When she’s this close, he could kiss her again. Or for the first time. “I love you,” he says, very sincere. He wants her to know.

She rolls her eyes, mutters, “Oh, brother,” and stalks off. And that is the end of that.

Still, he isn’t sorry that he told her. The side of his face stings when he puts it down on the pillow, from where 1939 Scully socked him, and he smiles dopily to himself. She knows, and he will tell her as many times as it takes to make her understand how he feels. How much he cares about her.

He grins at the ceiling. He is in love with his partner. He is in love.

iii.

They fly to Nevada against orders, to investigate some lead an informant gave Mulder. The airport is a couple hours out from their destination, so they rent a car and drive together into the desert. In Area 51, the only thing that is waiting for them is a slew of Men in Black or whatever, who stop them in the middle of the road. There is a confrontation. A light passes over them, and Scully is left blinking, her mind foggy. How much time has passed? She is holding Mulder’s hand.

“Come on, Mulder,” she says, unnerved. “Let’s go.”

—

They don’t talk a lot as they drive away, stirring up red dust behind them. Scully rests her head on the window pane, his fingers tapping the dashboard​. Mulder is quiet, his jaw working back and forth as he stares out at the road ahead. “What happened out there, Scully?” he asks finally.

It was a brief, meaningless​ encounter, completely unmemorable, but it feels like something more and she can’t explain it. She shrugs. “We got stopped. Found nothing,” she says. “What else is new?”

Mulder nods, chewing his lower lip. They pass a diner, the lights startlingly blue. “You hungry?” he offers.

The diner is packed to the brim, something Scully isn’t entirely used to; they usually frequent half-empty shitty places in the middle of the night. There is a family sitting across from them, three kids jammed in one booth, shoving at each other. Scully remembers that she said something about raising families, having something approaching a normal life, on the drive up. It seems like something she said days ago for some reason; she blinks in sleepy confusion. Mulder smudges fingerprints on the glossy menu, waving it at her. He orders her drink for her, exactly the way she likes it. She thinks that sometimes they may be able to read each other’s minds.

“Sorry I dragged you out here for nothing, Scully,” Mulder says after the waiter takes their meal orders and leaves.

Scully pokes at the sugar holder. A baby squeals somewhere across the diner, a couple argues at the counter. The Nevada sky has so much more stars than back in DC. “That’s okay,” she says, more agreeable than she would’ve expected of herself. “Better than background checks.”

Mulder smiles, his teeth too white under the fluorescent lights. She has some faint memory of saying goodbye to him, of sunflower seeds slipping into her palm and through her fingers, clammy from Mulder’s hand, but she has no idea where it came from, because she knows that never happen. Maybe it’s because Mulder has been eating them since the airport. She wonders if his fingers would taste like salt, and then blushes on instinct.

“It’s too bad that lead never panned out, though,” says Mulder, a little regretful, maybe a little bitter, leaving starburst fingerprints in the condensation on the side of his glass. “This was a waste of time.” He snorts out a bitter laugh. “An entire day’s waste of time.”

Scully shrugs, her coat loose around her shoulders. She is unusually jovial, happy to be with him. “It’s like you said, Mulder. This is a normal life.”

Mulder smiles again, almost involuntary. She smiles, too. She steals fries off of his plate when their food comes and he makes a gremlin face at her and she giggles. She has an odd feeling of longing that she can’t explain, and she doesn’t bother to try. They’re in a diner in Nevada, off the clock. Who the hell cares?

Mulder takes a shift driving after they eat, and Scully curls into a ball in her seat and falls asleep. She has some strange dream of standing opposite Mulder in the desert. There are seeds, like the one in that strange non-memory in the diner, and she tells him, I’d kiss you if you weren’t so damn ugly. Well, she notes when she wakes up, the sentiment isn’t entirely off. But still. What the hell is that about?

iv.

They’ve slept in the same bed before, but never quite like this.

Scully can tick off every time they’ve shared a bed. The awkward time in the first year of their partnership where she’d set a token pillow between them and slept on the edge of the mattress (but Mulder sprawls in his sleep, so he’d ended up drooling on her shoulder in the morning, the pillow stuck under his belly). The case in ‘96 where her feet had snuck over on his side every single night. The times she’d fallen asleep in Mulder’s hotel room or he’d fallen asleep in hers. But every time had been different then this somehow, she thinks.

She’d woken up this morning with Mulder’s face half-buried in her neck, an arm thrown over her ribcage, his fingers hot against her side where her shirt had ridden up. His stubble rubbing her neck as he muttered things in his sleep. She had counted to ten in her head. Twenty. And rolled away. His hand had slid over her stomach in a long trail; he snorted and buried his face in the pillow. Scully had shivered, curling into herself on the edge of the bed. And now they are in bed again. He is asleep and she is not and he’s jammed up against her in bed, nose against her upper arm and knees pressing into her leg. Their fingers tangled together on the mattress. Scully stares at the ceiling, ignoring the tickling sensation of Mulder’s breath against her skin. Or trying to.

Sheila was surprised that she isn’t with Mulder. Which apparently the entire town of Kroner can join her in. The missus. Boyfriend. Holman had bid Mulder farewell by saying, “You should try it sometime,” looking at the two of them like he expected something out of them. She supposes her big “relationships-spurning-from-friendship” speech to Sheila didn’t help their Kroner reputation. She doesn’t know why she cares.

Mulder is too warm, jammed up against her with his raspy breathing and the blankets tangled around them. She should move away. She doesn’t know why she doesn’t move away. She told herself that she wasn’t going to do this last summer, after everything with Diana Fowley, after he tried to kiss her and never brought it up. For a little while last fall, in Nevada, she thought she might, but she’d relegated herself, insisted that they are friends and friends only. And despite whatever lover’s pacts some ghosts tried to force them into, despite her falling asleep on his couch at six a.m. on Christmas morning, she has been able to push back the thoughts in her mind of taking their relationship a step further. But now…

Mulder mumbles something in his sleep—something that sounds like the lyrics to Islands in the Stream, which played on repeat at the reunion when one of the speakers glitched—and presses his nose harder against her shoulder. Scully shivers. We are just friends, she tells herself sternly. He’s my best friend. That’s it. That’s all. But Mulder tugs at her hand in his sleep, rolling over so that he lands almost on top of her, and she almost loses her resolve, shivers. She didn’t know it was so cold in Kansas. Or that her partner is a furnace. She shifts in her sleep, cold feet brushing against his feet and trying to wiggle out from under him a bit. Mulder stirs, lifting his head from her shoulder and blinking groggily. “Scully?” he mutters, tugging at her hand before he realizes that he’s holding it and lets it drop. “Oh, jeez, I’m on top of you,” he says, scooting backwards so he’s on the other side of the mattress. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she says quietly. She hasn’t moved.

Mulder flops over on his stomach, still half-asleep. ���We’ll be home tomorrow,” he mumbles into his pillow.

“Yeah,” says Scully. His hair is sticking up on one side; she resists the urge to pet it down. She turns on her side and closes her eyes, determined to get some sleep tonight. But her words to Sheila are still bouncing around in her head. You know, one day you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before, she’d said. And the person who was just a friend is… suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself with.

She wakes up in the morning with her face pressed up against Mulder’s shoulder. She tells herself sternly that it means nothing. She knows she is lying.

v.

When she wakes up in the hospital, Mulder is there. He’s leaning over her hospital bed with his hands in his head. He looks tired, haggard, as if he’s been there for days. Scully has a groggy, overwhelming affection for him, and though she cannot speak, she reaches for him. He looks up, sees her hand moving, and his entire face lights up. “Scully,” he says, engulfing her hand in both of his. “You’re awake.”

She looks up at him, tiredly tries to tell him everything that she is thinking with only her eyes.

Mulder laughs a little, squeezing her fingers. He is practically grinning with relief. “I-I’ll go get your doctor,” he says, standing from his spot next to the bed. Before he puts her hand down, he leans over and kisses her knuckles, and she feels it from head to toe. “You’re gonna be okay,” he says before he leaves. Scully smiles a little to herself. She can’t believe he’s here.

Mulder is there when she wakes up and Mulder continues to be there, through every awkward moment with her mother and brother (both of whom Scully is incredibly relieved to see), through every talk with the doctor, through nearly every moment Scully is conscious for the next two days. She is immensely grateful. She’d missed him. She loves him, she thinks rebelliously to herself one day. She loves him and is so incredibly happy to still be here to tell him so. All those doubts flickering in her mind, leftover from last summer, are gone now. She is ready.

There is a brief moment where she is uncertain, wondering whether or not Fellig was right about immortality, right about love not lasting forever, but she talks herself out of it. She is being ridiculous. People don’t live forever. Life is too short, actually, and she has plenty of proof of that right before her.

Mulder thumb-wrestles her over the blankets tucked around her body, kisses her cheek in farewell every time he leaves. He flies back down to DC with her when she is finally discharged, cracking peanuts between his teeth like makeshift sunflower seeds and trying to distract her with in-flight movies. He visits her frequently in the evenings while she is on medical leave, calls in the middle of the day to complain about Kersh and background checks and the embarrassment of being stuck in the bullpen. He is her best friend and she is in love with him; there was more truth to the things she told Sheila than she thought. She keeps looking for moments to tell him, but keeps coming up short. She doesn’t know how to say it. (They’re both awful at expressing their feelings; is she just supposed to sit him down and say, “Mulder, almost dying has made me realize I’m in love with you?” What about, “So, about that one time you almost kissed me and we never talked about it…?” All utterly ridiculous.) But the time will come. She is confident that the time will come. These things have a way of happening with them.

Later, after the entire ordeal at El Rico Air Force Base, she will attribute the entire thing to what Fellig told her in his apartment. Fear of eternity staring her in the face, loneliness. Vulnerability after almost dying. But she cannot really be in love with him, she tells herself. She cannot.

vi.

He can’t explain why trusting Diana is so important to him.

He is not in love with her. Not anymore. And when he was, it was never as house-on-fire fierce as the way he cares for Scully. But something in him cannot let go of their relationship. Their years together. She remains the only woman he has ever proposed to. The longest relationship he’s ever had. She was there when he discovered the files. He cannot let that go, for some reason. He just can’t.

He doesn’t know why he is so stingingly hurt when Scully is sharp to her in quarantine, because he is done with her romantically and has been for years. She broke his heart. But something in his stomach curdles in annoyance when Scully keeps snapping at her, acts like she’s the enemy. He chides her a little when she gets petty towards Diana, because a part of him is protesting, She isn’t working against me, Scully. She knows how important this is. She left me because the work is important. And he doesn’t know that Scully would go that far for him, for the work. It’s a horrible comparison to make, but it’s true.

The Gunmen turn against her, too. Scully calls him to their apartment, just so she can present all the reasons why Diana is untrustworthy, and Mulder’s annoyance continues to grow. You wouldn’t be saying this if you knew everything she’s done for me, he wants to say to her. What she meant to me, once.

He tells her she is reaching. He tells her she has given him no reason not to trust Diana. He tells her that she is making things personal, and he senses he has gone too far. It’s been personal since Day One, with them. He’d like to take it back almost as soon as he says it, but Scully storms out and Mulder is too annoyed with her to follow her. But Frohike’s glare and the way Byers and Langly avoid his eyes speak volumes.

Embarrassed and maybe a little guilty, he slinks off to find out the truth about Diana, just to prove that he is right. He finds the smoker at her apartment, who offers him a way out. A way to save himself from what’s coming. Himself, he thinks, and Scully, and maybe even Diana. If they can really avoid death on Earth, he and Scully, then it would be wrong to leave behind the woman who is partially the reason he has gotten this far.

Diana comes home and reaffirms her loyalty to him. He tells her how they need to survive and she kisses him. It is a brief kiss, and his mind is buzzing too much to process it all, but he wraps his arms around her on instinct.

—

After it’s all over, he’s overwhelmed with guilt.

He doesn’t go to the air force base because he is chasing a lead with Scully, and he is relieved that they don’t because the entire thing goes up in flames. Diana doesn’t reappear in the immediate days after. Jeffrey Spender gets them back on the X-Files, and then his blood is found staining their office. Scully won’t return his calls.

The guilt is thick in his stomach over the possibility of Diana’s death, the encounter in her apartment. What he perceived as a betrayal of Scully. They may not be together, but he is in love with her. He told her he loves her and he meant it with everything in him. And now, and now. He has hurt her to the point of nearly no communication between them. He has kissed another woman he is not in love with. He has ruined it all.

Diana calls a few days after the entire ordeal, reassuring him that she is alive, and he is relieved. Truly relieved. Maybe some feelings do linger for her, but not in the sense of wanting to actually be with her. It’s mostly nostalgia from his old relationship, mostly loyalty. He’s happy she’s alive. But he’s in love with Scully and he’s pushed her too far away.

He wishes he knew how to make this right.

vii.

She almost resigns after it’s all over.

She gets drunk one night, furious and raving against Mulder, and types up a resignation letter, prints it out and even signs it. She leaves it on the dinner table, determined to give it to Skinner in the morning. She is done with the FBI, the way they’ve scorned her and thrown her out. She is done with the X-Files, tired of the way they beat her up and leave her frustrated and embarrassed when she is proven wrong. She is done with Mulder.

In the morning, she chickens out. It seems ridiculous in the daylight, with the sun shining unevenly across her pillow and her pounding hangover headache. She did hang on this long to resign. Personal interest is all she has, and she can’t give up for her sister or her daughter or herself. And even Mulder. She still cares for Mulder by instinct, knee-jerk reaction.

But there is not going to be a relationship between them now. Not a chance.

In the process of rebuilding their office, reorganizing everything, Scully works quietly, talks as little as possible. The resignation letter stays on her table, like a glaring spotlight. Reminding her of the way she felt when she thought she was leaving. She goes back and forth on it a few times in the weeks following El Rico. She almost changes her mind the day after Diana drops by the office to congratulate Mulder on getting the X-Files back. Mulder almost dies twice. The second time, she is haunted by nightmares of him dying in her arms, gunshot wound to the chest. It breaks her. She can’t resign, she can’t leave him anymore than she could last summer. She has tried, and it doesn’t work. She has not hung on this long, through dead family members and abductions and cancer, to quit because Mulder hurt her feelings. She cares about him, and it is more than a knee-jerk reaction. She isn’t going to resign. She throws the letter out.

But her stance on a relationship between them stays the same. He is her partner, her friend, but nothing more.

xiii.

The Petries has a nice ring to it. Mulder picked the name because of all the Dick Van Dyke Show reruns they’d watched together while Scully was recovering from her gunshot wound. Scully rolled her eyes and smiled a little at the floor when he told her, but sobered up quick. Told him that they had to pronounce it like the dish.

There has been a definite distance between them lately. A distance that only comes down after one of them almost dies. He wishes he knew how to fix this.

Being able to call Scully his wife, though. Being able to put his arm around her and ham it up in front of all the citizens of Arcadia Falls. He kind of likes it—which is unexpected, because he never associated Scully and marriage in his mind until now. He hasn’t been very keen on marriage ever since Diana mailed his ring back, broke off their engagement that had crumbled to nothing at that point. But he could get used to this, coexisting with Scully in a house, their house, sharing a bedroom and eating dinner together. (Maybe without the dorky planned community, though.)

They end up cooking dinner together because neither of them can agree on who should be the one to cook. They’re both terrible at it. Scully rolls up the sleeves of her cute little soccer mom sweater and huffs angrily when she burns the chicken. Mulder abandons the potatoes and pulls out one of the salad kits that Scully had insisted the Bureau buy them. (They’d made a grocery list together, for God’s sake; he loves this case.)

“You liking married life, Scully?” he asks her at the dinner table, after they manage to construct a decent salad.

She snorts a little, stabbing lettuce with her fork. The windows are open, to air out the kitchen from where the chicken was burned, and they are speaking quietly in an attempt not to blow their cover. “Truly blissful, Mulder,” she says dryly. “The honeymoon never ends.”

Mulder chuckles, a little awkwardly, looking down at his plate. “Did you ever daydream about your wedding as a kid, Scully?” he asks.

“Oh, sure, when I was younger.” She drums her finger against the table. “But the daydreams kind of faded in high school, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” says Mulder knowingly.

Scully is still staring at her plate. “I thought I’d get married in my twenties, actually,” she says in a stilted rush, almost like she had to talk herself into saying it.

Mulder’s fork drops from his hand; he was not expecting that. “Really?” he asks in a neutral tone. “What happened?”

Scully shrugs. “I joined the FBI. Broke it off when I saw the full implications of the relationship. I was young, and I thought I was in love. But it would have been a mistake.”

He’d never known that about her. He nods. Scully scrapes her fork through the salad dressing, lifts her chin to meet his eyes. “What about you, Mulder?” she says, and her voice is very serious, like she understands what the answer will be. “Any previous run-ins with marriage?”

He swallows uncertainly. “Diana and I were engaged,” he says carefully. “She broke it off.”

Scully nods, her face neutral. She says just as carefully, “She must have meant a lot to you.”

“She did,” Mulder says. “At one point, she did.”

She holds his gaze for a moment before looking away. Mulder lifts a glass of water to his mouth and gulps a mouthful. It’s too cool sliding down his throat.

He wants to fix this more than anything. He wants Scully to understand why he did what he did, what she means to him. He just wishes he knew how.

ix.

Agent Scully is already in love, Padgett had said, looking straight at him as if he was supposed to have any idea at all what he was talking about. Who Scully could be in love with. If Padgett is even right at all, if he even knows her. Mulder knows that he doesn’t, that he couldn’t possibly know anything about her.

It is stupid to be jealous of him, this creepy little man who has been stalking her for years now. He is not jealous as much as he is furious, wants to shout at him, tear him apart for what he has done to Scully. Padgett does not know her, not the way he does. He is presumptuous, a little voyeuristic shit who thinks he knows and loves a woman because he’s followed her around for a while. He doesn’t know Scully and he is likely a murderer and Mulder wants him gone, wants to make sure he never gets near Scully again.

Agent Scully is already in love. It can’t be true, because Padgett does not know her. Not like he does, not at all. And Mulder doesn’t know who it is that she could possibly be in love with. How he could have missed it. Or if it’s the yearning possibility, the off chance that she might be in love with him…

No. Padgett does not know her. He is lying, playing some new angle. Mulder throws himself into the case, into trying to catch Padgett. It isn’t true, he tells himself. Scully isn’t in love with him. Believing that weasel is the most egotistical thing he could do.

It isn’t until Scully is clinging to him as she sobs hysterically, blood smeared up and down her front, fingers digging desperately into his shoulders, that he considers that it might be true.

x.

His breath on the back of her neck, his nose in her hair, and his arms wrapped all the way around her as they move together, the bat whooshing through the air. Scully giggles helplessly, more delighted than she’s been in months. She feels like she’s in high school again, her heart racing to the point where she’s sure Mulder can hear how nervous she is. How excited.

It’s spring, not very cold at all, but Mulder’s arms are warm around her, the length of her spine pressed to his chest and stomach. Her shoes that are not at all suited for baseball scuff the red dirt. Her feet almost slip out from under her with one swing of the bat, and Mulder’s arms tighten around her, lifting her almost off of her feet as he tries to keep her from falling. Scully belly-laughs, leaning her head back as the bat wavers in her hands. Mulder stumbles backwards under her weight, lowering her to the ground. “I got you,” he huffs, exhausted from holding her up.

Scully lets the bat droop, tapping the dirty ground with its edge. “Yeah,” she says, breathless. She thinks of the latest, unhappy time he had his arms around her like this, while she fell apart on his floor. She thinks of the first moment of arriving at the park, realizing what he meant when he’d said, “Get over here, Scully.” The shivery feeling she’d gotten when he pressed up against her. His lips brush the back of her neck—whether it is on accident or on purpose, she can’t tell, but it makes her think his mouth against hers. The possibilities.

She smiles, leaning back into his chest. “Yeah, you got me.”

xi.

Things are better between them, he thinks. They have been, they are. Less steely silences, less tense conversations. Scully smiles at him now, even bursts into laughter on occasion the way she did on that one golden Saturday. “We should work on the weekend more often,” he’d said the Monday after, a little suggestively, and Scully had smirked back at him just as suggestively. Surprised him so much it almost bowled him over. He loves it.

Things are better between them, their partnership starting to get back to normal, and Mulder is starting to consider the possibility of their friendship finally starting to shift into new territory. (Hey, it only took them a year.) He doesn’t know when or if it will ever happen (although the suggestiveness between them both would suggest that it will), but either way, he’s just grateful to have Scully back. Her friendship, her partnership.

They fuck it up, of course. There is a case in North Carolina, and he presents his theory of UFOs, and she dismisses it, maybe even jokes a little bit about it. And it annoys him, for some reason. “Sounds like crap when you say it,” he says, working his jaw back and forth, wondering why she can never believe him, just once. “I’m just wondering if there’s a connection, Scully,” he adds, defending the theory. “I mean, the conditions of these bodies are reminiscent of certain southwestern cattle mutilations. Those are cases where there’s no physical evidence and they’ve long been associated with UFO activity.”

She replies like she doesn’t know him at all, “Mulder, can’t you just for once, just… for the novelty of it come up with the simplest explanation, the most logical one, instead of automatically jumping to UFOs or Bigfoot or…?”

Irritated, he stands and says, “Scully, in six years, how… how often have I been wrong?” She scoffs. He says, “No, seriously.  I mean, every time I bring you a case we go through this perfunctory dance. You tell me I’m not being scientifically rigorous and that I’m off my nut, and then in the end who turns out to be right like 98.9% of the time?” She looks a little hurt now. She says nothing. “I just think I’ve… earned the benefit of the doubt here,” he says, and walks away before either of them can say anything else, because he doesn’t know why this is bothering him this much. He doesn’t know what else he expected.

— As difficult and as frustrating as it’s been sometimes, your goddamned strict rationalism and science have saved me a thousand times over, he’d said in that hallway. Maybe it’s stupid to keep referencing back to something he said a year ago, something he said to manipulate her into staying. But the sincerely behind it had felt real. Everything that has happened between them lately has felt sincere. And once again, Scully doesn’t know what to think

xii.

He knows it isn’t real as soon as she admits that she is wrong. She knows it isn’t real when everyone tells her she is right, again and again. She never really believed she’d lost him anyway.

Their minds meld together through the mushroom hallucinatory haze. They come together, just like always. That is what they do.

Skinner pulls them out of the ground and puts them in the ambulance together. They reach for each other at the same time, Scully searching blindly. She opens her eyes to look at him when he takes her hand. She doesn’t take her eyes off him. They keep looking at each other until they’re unloaded at the hospital.  

She misses him at the hospital, through the haze of drugs and pain. She sleeps on and off for a few days, bandages scratchy against her skin, dreams strange and vivid. She’s cold. She is tired of doubting this—their partnership, how well they work together, whether or not they can never be in a relationship. The only reason they survived was because they’d realized what was happening. That something was wrong. The way that they balance each other out, it’s unmistakable. She misses him.

A few nights after the whole ordeal is over with, she slips out of bed and pads down the hall to his room. He’s awake, staring out the window absently when she steps inside. He turns towards her, startled, and his eyes soften at the sight of her. “You okay?” he rasps.

She nods, stepping closer to the bed. “Couldn’t sleep,” she rasps.

He scoots closer to the inside of the bed, shoulder pressed to the wall. She climbs in beside him, their arms pressed together. He tucks the blankets around them both, brushes some hair off of her face before settling back against the pillow. She takes his hand.

“I’m sorry, Scully,” he rasps.

She shakes her head, intending to tell him to save his voice, but he keeps going. “I shouldn’t have… acted like you were being unreasonable. You… I need you. I need your science, and I need you.”

He squeezes her fingers. She closes her eyes, snuggling into the blankets, reminds herself that he is not dead. She is tired of doubting, of lying to herself. They’re both high off their asses on painkillers, but this time, she believes him. “I need you, too,” she whispers, letting her head fall on his shoulder. “I do. I do.”

He kisses the top of her head. She hums raspily, letting her eyes slip closed.She does need him, she knows now. They need each other.