#msr ficlet

[alieninatrenchcoat]

Master of Christmas Cookies

(msr one shot ficlet where Scully invites Mulder over on Christmas Eve to help her prepare cookies to bring to her family ) 

The sun was beginning to set, and the last light of day, as orange as ever, found its way to Scully’s brilliant head. Her tight white top suddenly matched her mane. She was practically turning into an orange. Mulder was busying his hands with a plop of freshly made cookie dough, rolling little clumps into round balls to place on a cookie sheet beside him. He had been rolling it delicately, but mindlessly. His thoughts were not on the dough, but of his company. He was completely preoccupied with Scully’s orange glow, not concentrating a bit on the job at hand. The goop between his fingers started to flatten as his brain slowly forgot what its task was, allowing for his hands to still around the sugar-cookie-to-be. He watched her move at her counter top a few feet away. Her hair swaying between gleams of light and shadow, how wonderfully angelic her choice in outfit complimented the sun’s warm kiss goodnight. His thoughts were aching to reach her own in hopes that she would telepathically receive his message: ‘Please turn around so I can see how the sun looks in your eyes. Please. I bet they look gorgeous. Sculllllllllyyyyy turn around. Just for a sec.’ She was closely examining the temperature on her oven, expectantly waiting for the number to bump up by an interval of 10, meaning the preheating process could be completed. As the anticipated beep sounded, she bent over to open it up. Mulder couldn't help but stare, but his mind was quickly drawn back to reality when she dusted off her hands on the front of her pant legs and turned around to meet his gaze. His eyes quickly averted to her face. Just as he expected- 

Her eyes did in fact look brilliant. 

He must have been distracted again because he wasn't expecting Scully to make any remarks just yet. Arms crossed, “ If you needed me to teach you how to roll the dough, It would have been proficient to let me know instead of waiting for me to figure it out on my own.”

His eyes went wide as he noticed he had not placed a single cookie on the sheet yet. Remembering the glob in his hand, he theatrically placed it onto the middle of the cookie sheet and looked back up at her with an innocent smile. He didn't consider vocalizing that she looked beautiful, or angelic. This was how she always was. The sun had finally disappeared, but she was just as radiant. His Scully. He wishes he’d be able to stay with her longer tonight. Baking Christmas cookies with Scully reminded him of when he and his mother had taught younger Samantha how to mix ingredients and cut out shapes with the Santa-shaped cookie cutter for the first time. The thought of Scully baking with a child of her own one day warmed his heart much more than the warmth of the December sun ever could, but he wouldn't be sharing this with her out loud. Though, he wouldn’t mind if she received the message telepathically, that way he wouldn't feel the need to explain himself. 

“Oh, I know how to roll the dough. It's a meticulous process, and it takes much effort for me to produce one of this level of finesse,” he stated proudly. A smile tugged at Scully’s lips. 

“Is that so?” she challenged. It was more of a statement. The serious nature of Mulder’s voice was a stark contrast to his grin. 

“Miss Dana, you might wanna take some notes from the pro,” he returned to the giant metallic mixing bowl of untouched dough, grabbing another clump and slowly rolling between his palms. Bringing his paralleled hands up to his eye level as if performing a spell, he stared down the rounding dough taking shape before him. He faked a concentrated-death stare with the dough and with a “wa - la” he procured the cookie sphere out to Scully, before slapping it onto the sheet.

“I’m overwhelmingly impressed. I don't think my skills could ever amount to yours,” she supplied, matching his sarcasm. She met him at the table, taking a piece of dough from the bowl and whipping it into a ball. Then another. And another. And another. 

“No no no. you're doing it all wrong. You gotta finesse the dough.” Scully gave him the singular eyebrow raise. “C’mere, let the master guide the student. I will assume the role of your sensei, young pupil,” he held out a sugar-covered hand for her to take into her own. A hesitant smirk played across her face, but she took his hand and he pulled her down into the wooden chair beside him.

“Here,” he grabbed a piece of dough, her hand still in his grasp. He turned her palm face-up to receive the dough, and held out his free hand for her other to take. He placed her dough-less hand over the glob of cookie dough, and they began to roll it into a ball together. His hands over her own small, delicate, motherly hands. Warm from the oven. 

His face was naturally within close proximity to her own, and he could smell the Christmas season all over her. Her scented candle, her peppermint hand wash, or was it a lotion? She smelled as if she could be a cookie herself. 

“Good,” he drawled. “That’s good.” She smiled, watching their hands move around the dough together. It was already in the desired shape, of course, but she let him continue to ease her hands into gyration. 

“Don't you think it’s ready, sensei?” she let out a giggle. 

“Patience, pupil.” he admonished. 

“Y’know, I really hope the oven doesn’t start the building on fire. I'd hate for this talent of yours to go to waste on teaching me.” 

“Nothing can go waste on you, my pupil” Scully couldn't contain her laughter at his seriousness and the fact that the same piece of dough was still between her hands. “Alright, I think you have mastered the art.” He released her hands, and she placed the finished product on the sheet with no time to spare. She grabbed another piece of dough and looked at him expectantly. 

“Now you are ready, master Scully. You no longer need me help.” He leaned against the table, resting his head in one of his hands to watch her fondly. Her cold eyes said ‘really’?’ but her warm smile betrayed her amusement. 

As she rolled the final piece, the classical vinyl she had chosen for them to listen to, came to an end. Mulder reached out to move a piece of her auburn hair behind her ear as he stood to get the oven mits. His hands fit the red, puffy material snugly, and he wondered how Scully could even hold a cookie sheet with these on her tiny hands. 

“Excellent work, master Scully,” He bowed and took the tray from her reverently, slipping it into the oven that he was sure must have cooled down to half its temperature by now.

Scully washed her hands, then made her way to the well-loved couch, patting the cushion to signal him over. Mulder settled himself down next to her.

“Thanks for helping me today Mulder, I really do appreciate it.” 

“Bill better like them. Tell him I made them. Maybe he’ll cut me some slack” 

“I'm sure he will.” 

“Hey Scully, I got you a little something,” He broke eye contact for a split second to rummage deep into the pocket of his jeans to pull out a small charm bracelet. Golden, with a portrait of the Virgin Mary. He took Scully’s clean hand in his own like he did with the dough -yep, it was definitely peppermint scented hand wash- and placed the accessory in her hand. Her smile softened.

“I - Mulder I thought we agreed on not doing gifts this year!”

“Consider it less of a gift, and more of an inheritance,” Scully looked at him, puzzled.

“What for?”

“It was my mothers.”

“Oh, Mulder you don't need to-”

“-She wasn't much for religion, but a nurse sent it to my address in the mail saying it was found in a pocket of hers. It didn’t mean much to me, I had never noticed it before, but I saved it for a while, thinking maybe I could pass it on to one of my future children if I ever had any, like your mother had given that to you,” He gestured his chin to the spot on her neck. Her gold cross. “But I didn’t feel like waiting around for the possibility, y’know? It would be better off in your possession anyway.”

Scully ran a finger over the charm, porcelain and glowing in the lamp light behind them. 

“It's beautiful. Thank you, Mulder. Really, you shouldn't have.”

“I know it's in good hands. Merry Christmas, Scully.” 

Drawing her attention away from the bracelet, she turned back to Mulder as she slipped it on. “I know you said you had to leave soon, but you're welcome to stay a little longer if you'd like. ‘Alone on Christmas Eve’ isn't a good title for a Master sensei.” She was hoping he’d agree, and that he did not miraculously have plans elsewhere, but to her minor disappointment, he did indeed have plans. 

“I gotta get back to my place before the Gunmen show up. They have some sort of drink-and-code mania they wanted my help with. You could always come join Scully,” He stood from the couch and made his way to the leather jacket waiting for him on the back of his cookie-making throne. 

“That's alright. I'm not so sure I'd like to consort with a drunk Frohike at the moment,” this earned a chuckle from Mulder. 

“Tell Maggie I said hello. Stop by with some of those cookies on your way out tomorrow?” 

“I'll see if I have room in my schedule to add ‘delivering cookies to my hungover partner,’’ she joined him at the door and opened it for him. “Merry Christmas Mulder.” 

“Merry Christmas, cookie master” He leaned over and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek on his way out, and the way her eyes sparkled at him in return was enough to top any gift he’d be receiving from her this year. 

-

(feedback/constructive crit. is always welcomed :) `hope everyone is having a great Christmas season!! )

[frangipanidownunder]

fluffy fic with slight mulder angst where he isn’t sure what scully really feels about him in their new relationship but then she says i love you for the first time and he loses it a lil?

Phases: fic

A stream of consciousness written in a fifteen minute flurry of words. 

She’s coming over. She’s coming over. Right now. She’s on her way. Small feet pressing the pedals, slim fingers gripping the wheel, eyes on all the other drivers. Woe betide anyone who cuts in. Scully is on the road. He’s shaving, his hands tremble, he nicks himself. Fuck. He dabs a square of toilet paper on it. His hair is clean. He thinks she likes his hair. She touches it often enough. But maybe that’s because he keeps getting head injuries. He likes her hair. However she styles it. He misses the ponytails. He teases her sometimes, on long drives, about the fluffy bangs and the strands that would come loose and she teases him back about his razor cut and the kiss curl fringe and his ties. Always his ties. He misses them. They’re tucked in the bottom drawer. One day, he’ll show her the full collection. His masterpieces. This one’s from my Rhomboid phase. He hopes she’ll laugh. She can’t think he’s any weirder, after all. Or can she? He opens the fridge. There’s a dip he bought from the deli. Spinach and pepper or maybe basil, he’s not sure. Should he have bought something not green? Will it get caught in his teeth. Or hers? Would he have the courage to tell her? Would she let him lick it clean? He lays out crackers. Should he cut carrot sticks? Does he have carrots? He looks in the fridge again. Broccoli. No carrots. Raw florets? No. Just no. He pulls out a beer, unpops the top. Is it rude to have a drink now? He swigs anyway. This one’s from my haven’t had a date in years and is this even a date phase? She’s knocking on the door. Tapping. Rapping. Playing the best percussion ever. There’s a certain beat to it that’s so Scully. To the point. Contained. But with a flourish that’s indefinably feminine. He drains the bottle. Rubs his wet lips with the back of his hand. Opens the door. She’s already smiling. She’s stunningly beautiful. She’s...she’s pulling off the square of toilet paper and it stings and he claps his hand there and she laughs and prises his fingers free and kisses the spot like she wants him whole and uncluttered. Before long she’s dipping crackers in the green dip and he’s watching her mouth. Her teeth. They remain clean and he’s half disappointed and then she’s sliding closer until her thigh is pressing against his and her hand is on his chest and his heart sends her a signal that she reads with a sigh and a plundering kiss and that’s when she says it. Whispers it into his mouth. I love you. Just once. Once is all he needs. Because those three words from Scully may only take a beat to say but when received will last for eternity. As her fingers massage his heart to get it going again her mouth breathes air into his lungs and he’s coming alive. His skin is pinking and his nerves are tingling and his muscles are unclenching. A rebirth. The beginning of something new. This is my Dana Scully admitted she loves me phase. But it’s not a phase at all, he realises. It’s now his life. And then he tells her the same and kisses her back with all his might and he hopes she’ll stay but understands if she doesn’t because she’s her own woman. And she’s his woman. And it’s the perfect dichotomy. Perfect.

[lolcat76]

Scully is a shark scientist and Mulder is a boat captain obsessed with proving the existence of the megalodon au

She’d done a lot of low and debasing things to secure aquatic research funding since TLC’s Shark Week had taken off, but agreeing to Search for the Megalodon was the tipping point where her pride, soul and dignity had evaporated. 

“I know it’s here,” he said, pacing back and forth, urging her crew to hurry this up or thrust that thing full steam ahead, and as she watched him, she wished that the megalodon were real, and that it would breech the ocean’s surface and cast itself on the rickety decks of the Queequeq, if only to gobble up her overly enthusiastic passenger.

It would be better than docking once again in the Chesapeake Bay and admitting, for the fifth year running, that she’d failed to find a mythic shark, and he’d failed to find a good, scientific reason for being on her boat that didn’t involve the two of  them doing shots of whatever cheap liquor they had on board and winding up in bed together.

[settle-down-frohike]

81 :)

@jamofappreciation thank you!  This was a toughie!!! Whew!! 

81. “Hold still.”

“Mulder aren’t we supposed to have a wedding ring for this?” And the unintended double meaning isn’t lost on him. He can tell Scully is regretting the phrase immediately by the fact that she’s now holding her breath.

“You can use a needle too, Scully. Hold still.” Her eyes follow his hand warily as it stretches towards her cheek. “OW!!” He comes away with a single amber stand and carefully threads the eye, double loops it and dangles above her swollen middle. They wait. She sighs heavily.

“Mulder…”

“You know this practice isn’t without scientific theory Scully.” His voice has taken on that nasal quality it tends to when he’s talking mostly to himself.

“It’s been theorized that sperm are polarized, either positively or negatively depending on the presence of a Y chromosome. Who’s to say that this needle isn’t picking up on some scarce electromagnetic field…”

“Mulder, if this is your way of dressing up your sperm cell’s capabilities, I’m too tired to make the connection.” And she is. Dinner is sitting in her throat at the moment, despite the little amount she was able to consume. This baby cannot drop into her pelvis soon enough. She’s constantly feeling as if she’s breathing through a straw lately and the lack of oxygen has her perpetually exhausted. Exhausted, impatient and intolerant, mostly, of Mulder. Damn sperm. Magnetic or not. Her back hurts. She shifts left and then right, searching for lumbar support on this puffy over stuffed fucking floral couch and why on earth hadn’t she bought a firmer one!?

“Scully hold still. Just one more second.” He’s watching that needle like it holds the key to the universe but really his mind is swimming. Wedding rings. His sperm. His baby. Why can’t he say it? He can buy her dinner and give family heirlooms and go to lamaze but the phrase, ‘My baby’ feels thick on his tongue. Gets stuck in his throat. He feels inept and inadequate and he was only supposed to be a donor. And now he’s a father. But he wants it, God he wants it. And he knows she wants him to, too. It’s in those wide, desperate eyes when he’s just done something like tied her shoes for her but he won’t. say. it.  And so neither does she.

And so here they are.

“Ok Mulder, you’ve had your fun and I have to pee,” but really she needs to get up from this couch before she knees him in that damnable oversized cartoonish nose of his. He looks up at her and flashes that adolescent grin, the one that really enhances his overbite.  

“Boy.” he says. 

And she loves him, forgives him.

[stellagibsonisalifeforce]

This morning, Black Friday for everyone else, Mulder let Scully sleep in a little while he went for a run in the rain. He brought back coffees, a bear claw for himself, and a toasted bagel with regular cream cheese for her. After, they started to dig the Christmas decorations out of of the basement. Mulder was untangling lights for the porch while Daggoo tried to help. Scully had a box or two from her mother’s house to go through this year. She managed to keep it together by telling Mulder stories about the ornaments she and her brothers would argue over while Melissa talked about the pagan roots of the holiday. She stopped when she found the homemade angel for the top of the tree. After they had set up what they could, they had planned to go cut down a tree. But the chilly rain and the lingering sadness of not having Maggie for the holidays led them to snuggle up under a blanket on the couch and watch classic 90s rom-com One Fine Day (which they both love because it’s a story of opposites attracting.) Eventually, Daggoo wriggled his way onto the couch and fell asleep in between their legs.

[oceanofthesky]

Prompt: Scully & Mulder in a cabin during the revival

(send me prompts)

Mulder’s almost asleep when he feels the mattress sink underneath him and an elbow nudge his shoulder. He takes a deep breath in, immediately knowing it’s her invading his senses and space. Turning onto his side, he scoots back until he’s almost hanging off the edge of the twin bed. She crawls in beside him, too many inches still separating them.

He can’t bring himself to open his eyes, because if it’s a dream it may be the best one he’s ever had.

“Scully, as much as I appreciate the sentiment, I don’t think Ranger Bill over there would appreciate us making that much noise right now,” he smirks, nodding in the general direction of their snoring guide.

“I don’t know, Mulder. I don’t think anything could wake him right now. And his name is Mike.”

“He has a crush on you, you know,” Mulder teases with a bitterness he had hoped to keep back. He can still feel bile in his throat from when Mike came up to him that afternoon with a shockingly vulgar comment about Scully’s ass. It took every ounce of strength not to slug him on the spot.

But three young boys had gone missing in an allegedly haunted forest during a camping trip and finding them came before anything. An endless day of searching had led them to a cabin miles deep, with a small kitchen and six twin beds shoved in a room. 

Scully had taken the one next to Mulder, meeting his eyes for a few long minutes after the lights went out before turning over.

Mulder had laid on his back, staring at the ceiling and reviewing every detail of the case, combing through every fact to think about anything other than her and how far away she was.

But now her fingers were tracing over his jaw and her cold feet were pressed against his calves.

“Well that’s too bad for him,” she whispers, moving her hand to the back of his neck and kissing him. He sighs into her, curling an arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him.

He would kiss her forever, if that was all it took; if tongues and teeth could say everything that they couldn’t put into words. But he knows it wouldn’t work that way. For years there were only two things they had needed to say, and both were too sad and hateful to be said with something as loving as a kiss.

How could you give him away? How could you abandon us?

Mulder pulls away, pressing their foreheads together, and reaches into the top of her shirt to pull out the chain holding her wedding ring. He clasps it in his palm, eyes still closed in a silent prayer.

“I should go back,” she says, but doesn’t move. He kisses the ring gently before tucking it back in her top and returns his arm to her side. He nuzzles his nose against hers, silently asking her to stay.

“Remember that first Christmas with Bill, how he made us stay in different rooms because he didn’t want me anywhere near you?”

“And I snuck into the living room and we shared that awful pull-out couch,” she chuckles against him.

“You were actually scared of getting caught. Like he was your dad instead of your brother.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have even tried if Ahab had been there.”

“I’m just saying that Ranger Bob over there is a lot less scary than your brother.”

She kisses him one last time, uncurling herself from his arm and walking back to her bed.

“Goodnight Mulder,” she says, and the sadness in her voice is almost strong enough to overpower the familiar smell of her on his pillow.

(Follow-up fic here)