#my stupid fucking brain. that isn’t low stakes. I’m trying to SLEEP

[theshadowrealmitself]

Me: Okay, gotta go to sleep so I can wake up early and continue stressing over finals, so I’m gonna think calm scenarios with low stakes to fall asleep to

Me: Like…an older captain having a crush on a younger crewmate that wasn’t even ranked high enough to be on the bridge, so the captain of course never said or did anything about the crush, staying completely professional the entire time, but now they don’t work together anymore

Me: And now the captain is wondering if they should pursue a relationship with them, because they aren’t currently working on the same ship anymore, but the captain is still ranked higher then them overall, and then there’s the issue with the age gap, it’s not really a big one, but it’s still There™️

Me: And several other crewmembers have joked about seeing the captain as a parent figure because they act so professional and competent and dependable and stuff that it just makes the captain come across as way older and oh god what if the crewmate is just horrified to find out the captain has a crush on them??

Me: And they’re wondering if they should just not pursue anything, especially since the crewmate has recently accepted to go on a date with another person, but they also kinda don’t wanna give up because getting to hang out with that crewmate more in non-work settings (cause most of the crew stayed in contact and constantly meet up to hang out) has made their infatuation grow, so they quietly and indecisively pine

My brain, for some goddamn reason: Mhm, and then, it turns out that person the crewmate agreed to go on a date with, is actually a huge creep trying to stalk their poor ex using the crewmate as a coverup (claiming to innocently be on a date, totally unknowing the ex would be there (lies)), so not only is the date really crappy, but because this creep isn’t actually listening to what the crewmate is saying, they tune them out about their deadly allergies

Brain: And then to seem like a good date to keep the coverup going, they stop by a flower shop (still stalking their ex, the crewmate isn’t aware of that, but is aware this date sucks and is trying to think of how to politely leave) rushes in, and then comes out and shoves a bouquet into the crewmate’s face as a “thoughtful” gift, and it’s the flowers they just mentioned being extremely allergic to-

[joshslater]

End of Shift

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My life is over. I've been playing a high stakes game, and somehow landed on one side of the odds all the time, but my luck was bound to run out sooner or later. I guess I should be happy that it turned out to be later, but it sucks no less. I got sloppy. I was looking through the items near the cashier, as always, trying to mostly use reflective surfaces to see what was going on, as always. I need to be within 15 feet or latency becomes an issue. Some old lady still using the old wallet was buying KokaKola and a pack of Ziffs. This would be easy, as always. I discreetly pressed my watch as she was ready to make the purchase, activating my EM-swiper. I wouldn't take much, a few credits more. She probably wouldn't notice it, or think the store stiffed her, or think she bought two packs of Ziffs and lost one. I'm not stealing to get rich, just to get by.

As the EM-swiper went off a high pitched beeping starts behind me. I barely have time to turn my head enough to see the charging police officer, before he slams me into the side of a KokaKola fridge. Shit, I hadn't done a survey pass through the store as I always do. I could barely register what he was screaming in my ear. "Drop it," I realize, and let go of the magazine. He must have thought I had the EM-swiper in my hand. He told me to put my hands against the wall and performed a pat-down. It's only him, so he must be off duty or not on a real patrol. He empties my pockets on the cashier table. Nothing of value, and certainly not something incriminating. I may not have been fortunate enough to afford academy, but I'm not stupid.

"You are detained under suspicion of committing proximity fraud. Do you understand?" he asks me in that commanding yet bored tone of a laborer having to recite corporate bullshit, only in his case it is in the pretense of justice. "Yes," I answer him. He doesn't have anything on me or he would have arrested me right away. Probably. "Put this on to acknowledge you've read the Citizen Rights Act and agree to an investigation in this matter." He hands me a pair of handcuffs to put on. I hesitate for a second. He is behind me and in the way of the store exit. I can stall for time and tell him to recite the CRA, but that immediately counts against you, as it is your duty to know it. I have no choice but to put them on. It's the latest model. I haven't seen any up close before. Light, thin, all metal, no key hole. Probably opened remotely or only inside a police cell or some shit. I put them on.

"Turn around, pick up your stuff, and exit the store." I do as told, turn around and begin to pick up my stuff and put them back where he took them. It's an older police officer. None of them young, jacked up types. Perhaps he is one of the fair ones. But then I am the criminal, so what good would that do me? There's a small, black duffle bag by his side. So he is on his way home. Perhaps he is tired. Perhaps I can shake him. Have Leo remove the shackles and then stay low for a fucking long time. Or this just doesn't amount to anything more than a slap on the wrist. I walk towards the door, him behind me.

"Nice watch," he says, pointing at my wrist as I reach or the door.

He knows. Unless I can get away now my life is over. All I can think of is the monstrosities the state churn out as punishment. Equal part labor force and sadism. I open the door as little as possible and as soon as I am through I dash down the block. I don't dare look behind me, but I don't hear him in pursuit. Halfway down the block I swerve into the alley that cuts across the building and out on the block on the other side. If I can cross that block and then down south I'm in the park and there are plenty of places to hide there.

My hands are not on fire. This surprises me as I look down on my hands, screaming in pain. There is a high pitched sound coming out of the handcuffs, like capacitors charging, but it is continuous. The pain emanating from my hands is something unlike anything I've ever experienced before. My legs buckle. I know I need to move, somehow, somewhere. It's just so difficult to think of anything but my hands that are not on fire. It would probably be a good idea to not scream my lungs out, but I don't really have a choice in that.

Just as suddenly as it started it stops. I'm still writhing in pain, but my hands are not on fire in a much more comforting way. "The payment proxy is in your watch, is it not?" the policeman asks, standing a few steps away. I'm panting, I realize when I attempt to answer him. Panting and sweaty. I can't manage to speak. I just nod my head.

"The state vs. item RK-220553 finds the defendant guilty to breach of contract with the state, executed by judicial AI 5" he reads off his handheld screen. I'm confused to what just happened. "No trial?" I manage to wheeze out. "You entered into a cooperation contract when you put on the handcuffs, as you are aware of as you claimed to know the Citizens Rights Act. Disobedience at that point allows for immediate trial by AI as long as no forensic work is needed." He sounded like the same bored cop as he was in the store, reciting memorized text for the thousandth time.

I struggle to get up on my feet. Not only am I shaky, but having my hands locked together makes it surprisingly difficult to get up. "You know, this is bad timing," the cop starts. "I was on my way home and don't have all the standard gear. It's supposed to be a swift punishment, for deterrence, but there is really only one thing I can do." Why is he so apologetic? He opens the bag and pulls out a fucking tactical human transformer. I've never even seen one in person before. He turns it on, selects something on the screen, and points the device towards me. "No, I can..."

This time I am on fire, if only so briefly. There is a blinding light, a pulse of heat, and the smell of burnt plastic. As the transient heat subsides it keeps falling colder and colder. I'm naked. All my clothes have been singed from my body. My watch is gone. My shoes are gone. Underwear gone. And, I realize, my hair is gone. The cop keeps punching in selections in the menus of the devices. I manage to get up on my feet. "Stay on the ground," he tells me. Not so much as an order, but as an advice. I sit down again and he trains the device on me.

I don't know how to describe it. It's not pain exactly. There is something about rewriting the code and cellular structure of your body while your brain is engaged that makes it give up in disbelief. "This can't be what's actually happening," it thinks and gives you completely nonsense sensory interpretations. But it also gives up on all other tasks. Time becomes irrelevant. Critical thinking put on hold. When the device stops you are utterly confused for seconds. Possibly by design, but it makes sense that you can't rewire the brain in flight without some glitches.

"I want you to stand up," the cop says in a firm voice. "Who?" I ask, still dazed, just to make sure. "You. Get up on both feet. Take this." He throws an orange bundle to me, and I feebly grasp for it but my one arm yanks the chain to the cuff of the other arm. The bundle brushes by and lands on the ground next to me. He looks disappointed, more at himself for thinking it would work than on me for not catching it.

I look down at my hand and see something orange in my grip, but it is not the orange that interests my but the grip. My arms, thin from lack of food and nimble from grabbing P2 storage modules out of vendor racks. are enormous. Big, well defined muscles with popped veins going up and around them. They look longer than before and even the hands are larger than they used to be. I can see that not only my arms are different. My chest is all lean and strong-looking as well, the legs have these weird lines showing different groups of muscles under the skin, and I can almost bet that the ground is further down than it used to be. Orange! I'm holding something orange in my hand.

"I only have an emergency kit with me, so not very many options for you I'm afraid. If you had come with me I think they would have found some better use for you, but as I said, I didn't have much to chose from beside himbot," the cop said while putting some beat-up looking boots from his bag next to me. He grabs the chain between my cuffs, and both of them pop open instantly, and he folds them up and begins to place them back into the cuff holder in his belt.

There was something he said that was important. Like, really important. I feel cobwebs like I had just been awakened from a deep sleep. "Put on the jock," he tells me, and again I am confused, but of a different kind. It's like I urgently need to know what he means, somehow. "You're holding them in your hand." I again look down at my hand and see the orange piece of cloth, which obviously is what he meant. I flip it around in my hands and finds it to be an orange jockstrap with a generous pouch. Looking down I also see the reason for that, since my dick and balls are large. Much larger than I remember them to be. I don't want to keep him waiting, so as quickly as I can manage, with my balance a bit off, I manage to place one leg in each loop and pull up the jockstrap. It neatly collects everything in front into a large orange ball.

Himbot! That's what he had said. It's like the government robots but human. What was the I and M now again? Wait, those are just mindless sacks of muscles roaming around doing whatever menial task is available.

"Himbot?" I ask him. "Yes, you are a himbot," the cop answered. "Put on the shirt."

I immediately grabbed the orange bundle from the ground I assumed to be the shirt. To my delight I was right and with just a few tries I managed to get it on me. It isn't a real shirt, but one of those without arms, whatever they are called. Quite a lot of skin showed. The shoulders were bare, as were the sides and the nipples unless you positioned the strings just right. Stringers! It's called a stringers, or something close to it. I feel so tired thinking of words.

"And the boots"

I grab one of the boots. There is something missing, but I'm not sure what it is. I has something to do with the small holes, I think. Well, the large hole is missing a foot, so I put one in it. Then I put the other foot in the other boot, and looked at the cop to see if he approved. He looks about the same. Good enough I hope.

"Face me and raise your hands" I comply immediately. He is pointing the large gun at me again. I don't like it, but I must do what he says. He presses a few buttons and then there is a sharp headache.

"Who are you?" "Himbot 220553." "What is your assignment?" "Walk along path 228-red responding to requests." "What types of requests?" "Any type of requests."

[tanzaniiite]

Prompt #25 with iwai please ;; btw your writing is very tasty !! Keep up the good work & stay safe !!

WORTH IT • IWAIZUMI H.

prompt: “apparently everyone has a bet going on that we get together”

requests: OPEN

warnings: none!

word count: 1.5k

i’m so sorry this took as long as it did! with everything going on in the world my motivation has plummeted but i hope you enjoy! thank you for the request!

"Ugh can you two stop flirting and just get together already"

You rolled your eyes at Matsukawa's comment as you helped put the volleyballs away. "Aw, I'm sorry is it bothering you that my love life is more interesting than yours?" You retort, smirking a bit. Mattsun just gaps at you, "Rude" He replies narrowing his eyes. You giggle as you hear Oikawa cackling on the other side of the gym. Iwaizumi comes to you and puts the last volleyball in the bin, "He's just laughing because it's not him that's getting made fun of for once" He whispers, which causes you to laugh some more.

Iwaizumi looks at you a small smile gracing his features, "Someone's giggly today" He mentions, poking your side. You smack his hand away, "It's sleep deprivation and don't do that" You explain. Hajime smirks, "That's right, you're ticklish. You do that little snort thing too" He mocks, fake snorting which makes you blush slightly. "Oh shut up! Are you ready to go? I got homework to do" You say, grabbing your bag.

"Actually I'm gonna stay, practice a bit more with Shittykawa" He states, pointing at Oikawa fussing with Mattsun and Makki. "Booo, you suck" You tease, shaking your head disapprovingly. "You swallow" Iwaizumi countered not missing a beat. You groan and punch his shoulder, "You're gross" You remarked, scrunching your nose in disgust, causing Iwaizumi to laugh loudly.

Oikawa walks up to you two, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. "Ugh, what're you up to dumbass?" Hajime asked, already fed up with Tooru from earlier today. Oikawa gasped, "I'm not up to anything Iwa-chan! I'm hurt that you think so low of me" He declared, feigning hurt or maybe he actually was hurt. Who knows? Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, "Spare me the dramatics. What do you want?" He inquired, crossing his arms over his chest.

"So direct" You commented while texting your mother on your whereabouts. "I know right? Anyways, I can't do extra practice today, my sister called and needs me to watch Takeru. Sorry" Oikawa said. "That's fine, we'll practice another time" Hajime nodded. Once Oikawa was out of earshot, you turned to Iwaizumi, "Does this mean you can walk me home now?" You asked, already putting on your jacket.

Iwaizumi chuckled, "And why would I do that? Your house is in the opposite direction of mine". You pout a bit, "Uh because you always walk me home, asshat" You retort, crossing your arms. Hajime ruffles your hair, "I'm just teasing, relax. Toss a few sets for me then I'll take you home" He requests, getting a volleyball from the bin. You shake your head, "Hell no, your definition of a 'few sets' means we'll be here all goddamn night" You claim, turning to leave. He grabs your backpack and pulls you back, "I'm serious, just a few". You narrow your eyes at him before groaning, "Ugh fine! But only a few, I already told my mom I'm on my way home" You say, shrugging off your bag and jacket.

"My mom is going to kill me"

Iwaizumi laughed, "I'm sorry," He said, rubbing the back of his neck. You glare at him, "No you're not" You reply, furrowing your eyebrows. "You're right, I'm not. But hey at least your sets are getting better, you're welcome" He laughed. You just rolled your eyes and continued walking. The rest of the walk to your house was in comfortable silence. You turned to look at the brunette next to you. Damn, he was gorgeous. You could confidently say that you have a massive crush on Hajime. But it wasn't always that way. When you two first met, you couldn't stand each other, you thought he was rude and standoffish while he thought you were a major bitch. You couldn't help but smile thinking about how much your relationship has grown. It was your classic 'enemies to lovers' trope, except that you guys weren't lovers. Best friends? Sure. Lovers? Definitely not.

Although the average person looking in on your relationship with Iwaizumi would say differently. You two flirted constantly as if there was some sort of competition on who could rile up the other more. And it didn't help that you and him were practically attached at the hip. Hajime walked you to class, walked you home, helped you study, hell, he's even met your family. The two of you were practically dating by default! You want to ask Iwaizumi out but you're scared of rejection, obviously. You didn't want to fuck up the good thing you two had going now. You didn't want to make a move unless you were absolutely sure he felt the same. And unfortunately, Hajime didn't wear his heart on his sleeve, the only way you would know his feelings is if he told you.

"Damn Y/n, do I have dirt on my face or something?"

You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at Iwaizumi who was staring at you, mild concern written on his face. You just shook your head and focused your attention on the pavement in front of you, "W-What? No, you're fine" You replied, embarrassed. Hajime just blinked before nudging you slightly, "You good?" He inquired. You nodded and offered him a small smile, "Yeah I'm good". The silence that was once comfortable was now awkward. Iwaizumi wasn't stupid, he knew something was on your mind but what? He wasn't sure. The last thing he ever wanted, was for things to be uncomfortable with you. The relationship you two had was strange enough but he loved it. He even felt selfish for wanting more, thinking this is as good as it's going to get with you. The brunette racked his brain trying to think of something that would break the suffocating silence. Suddenly he remembered something he overheard the team talking about a few practices ago. "Hey, so... apparently everyone has a bet going on that we'll get together. What'd you think of that?" He asked, also looking ahead of him.

You turned to look at him again. Was this his attempt of finally asking you out? Or were you reading into it too much? "Oh yeah? Well, what's the bet exactly?" You inquired, genuinely curious. Iwaizumi glanced at you, "So it's between Mattsun, Makki, and Oikawa. The disaster duo bet that we'll get together by the end of the year. Because we're too oblivious to realize our feelings for one another. And the dumbass believes that we'll get together by the end of this month because it's Oikawa. The wager was that if Shittykawa wins, the duo has to serve him for a month. And if the duo wins, Oikawa has to ask out one of his psycho fangirls" Hajime explained. Wow, those were some pretty high stakes. You smirked a bit, "Is it bad that I want Oikawa to lose?" You asked, laughing slightly.

"Yeah, I kind of want him to lose too" Iwaizumi laughed, "But the only downside to that is that I'll have to wait until after this month to ask you out," He said. You looked at him with wide eyes. Ask you out? He was planning on doing that? Since when? "A-Ask me out?" You repeated, your voice wavering a bit. "Yeah, I was gonna do it this weekend but I really wanna see Oikawa suffer with one of his fangirls" Hajime sighed, shaking his head. You quickly step in front of him, grabbing his shoulders and looking at him with a serious expression. "Are you serious? This isn't a joke, right? I'll literally hate you if you're joking" You claimed. Taken aback by your sudden movements Iwaizumi stared at you blankly before answering, "Y-Yeah I'm serious. I, um, I really like you". You felt like throwing up but not in a bad way. Your heart felt like it wanted to beat right out of your chest. Is this what it was like to have a heart attack?

"If you really like me, then ask me out now"

Hajime's face suddenly became red, so much so that he looked like a strawberry. "H-Huh? What about the bet-" He started. "Forget the bet! I like you too stupid, I've liked you for longer than I'd like to admit. So please, ask me out" You pleaded, looking at him with those beautiful eyes of yours. Iwaizumi swallowed thickly, "Okay then, this is really happening. Y/n, want to go out with me this weekend?" He asked, shyly looking to side trying to avoid eye contact. You smiled so wide, one would think your face was about to tear in two. "Of course I'll go out with you" You answered, finally letting go of his shoulders and embracing him tightly. Iwaizumi smiled and returned the embrace while burying his face in your hair. "I've waited for this moment for so long" You confessed, your voice muffled. Hajime chuckled, "Well, I hope it was worth the wait," He said. You pulled away, holding Iwaizumi's face in your hands before kissing him deeply. When you two separated, you giggled at his dazed expression.

"It was definitely worth the wait"

tanzaniiite © 2020 — all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, or copy. do not plagiarize. thank you.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

heiress - 6

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

a/n: i am really excited writing this lately and it’s totally not me avoiding to actually write any uni work. 

previous chapter

    - I think you need to make a choice, dear. - she cocked her head to the side, her own expression muffling the sound of Wanda’s voice cutting through the woods. 

She took a step backwards, unsure. She didn’t remember the time she was allowed such a choice. Her father had forced her into HYDRA’s hands before she could even speak, Bucky had forced her out of the Red Room and Hayward had forced her into SWORD. Looking back, she couldn’t find a single instance where she had been allowed her own agency. She was always dormant, carefully nodding, afraid HYDRA would come and take her back. She had been thrown into a cell during the Civil War’s events by her own agency and kept locked during the Thanos’ situation. The only time she had willingly stepped back was out of fear in Washington. Seeing her father handle the man she loved as if she were a mindless robot had thrown her into the same pit of fear she had always been kept into. It still haunted her to this day, she could still hear the television’s reporter voice as she explained what had happened. Once again, she was taking a step back. - Oh for heaven’s sake.

Agatha rose her hand  in the hand, twirling it as the darkness became sickening light and the woods turned into walls of places of sad occasions whose name and place she preferred not to remember. The ambience was sickly in dark and light green tinges with rusty bars. She did not want to remember it but she did and turning around she was face to face with one of the only happiest memories she had which overtime had became bittersweet. The music was low and muffled, coming from down the hall  were the staff was holding a meeting but it was well heard enough in the soldier’s cell, they could dance. And they did. She could see him and her past self in front off her, her head leaning on top the leather of his bodice, slightly tilted up so she could look him in the eyes, his flesh hand wrapped around hers as they moved side to side. She watched that scene with a sad look, feeling a lump in her throat become bigger and bigger.

   - Ain’t that sweet? - Agatha stood behind her. - So tell me exactly what’s taking you so long to take my help? Isn’t that what you want?

   - Yes. - she mumbled, almost hypnotised by the scene. - But it’s gone, it’s the past.

   - But that’s the thing, my little traumatised girl, it doesn’t need to be. Not for people like you, like us. 

   - No. Past is past and I can’t return to it ... - she moved away from that scene, turning to look at Agatha. - No matter how sad it makes me. 

   - No, dear, that’s not how it works for you.  - she twirled her hand again and the darkness returned but it wasn’t how it was in the woods. No, this was a large dark room barely light as if a flickering spotlight hovered them. She took steps forward, trying to read her situation only to find a pile of lifeless bodies of everyone she had ever known. She took a step back, hand covering her own muffled cry as everyone she had ever knew laid lifelessly around her. - You see, you’re not an element manipulator, that is a gross understatement of what you do and you should have the people who told you that burned at the stake. No, you have the particular talent of controlling matter ... creation magic. Not just in your own particular universe like Wanda but in every universe. It’s permanent, everything you do, doesn’t need a little dome protecting it. It’s powerful magic however when unbalanced, untrained, uncontrolled it becomes destruction magic which is why my dear you can make things disappear. You just make them cease to exist. 

   - The guards ...

   - Ceased to exist. - she interrupted her. - Of course you can bring it back like you did back at the Red Room but it takes time and control. You, of all people, have no control over it and whatever control you have breaks loose whenever Barnes just strolls around. It’s not very feminist of you. 

   - Y/N! - Wanda’s voice got louder.

   - This ... - Agatha pointed out every dead body surrounding her. -  Is what happens with uncontrolled creation magic. Wanda can’t help you, she’s chaos magic, your foil. I can, I can help you. I can take this burden away from you. Something you didn’t even want in the first place.

   - Y/N! - Wanda’s voice mixed with the sounds of her own thoughts until it broke through Agatha’s illusion. She looked at her feet, no longer surrounded by the corpses of those she loved yet Agatha was still standing in front of her, a sly smile on her face as if she knew her future. 

   - That’s what the future holds for you if you don’t learn to control it. You’re destruction so far, pure, unaltered, cruel destruction. Fitting considering your choice of lover.

   - WANDA! - Y/N replied back turning on Agatha as if she had been woken up from a bad dream. Agatha mumbled to herself before disappearing into the darkness of the night as Y/N searched for the Scarlet Witch. It didn’t take long for her to find her, noticing the look of pure worry in her eyes just like the time when her children were in danger. - Wanda, I ...

   - WHAT THE FUCK, Y/N? Don’t you do this to me EVER AGAIN. - she dropped her hands, eyes returning to her regular hue. - If you weren’t my age, I would have grounded you. 

   - I’m younger than you Wanda. - she sighed, small smile on her face. - I just thought I saw ... something.

   - What something? - they walked together through the hex. Watching the dome like safe haven they had created, Y/N didn’t find it in herself to tell her. Maybe Hayward was right, maybe the daughter of a villain only had promises of becoming a villain herself. Yet again, she had seen it. She had seen what being around them could lead to and that image was tattooed on her brain no matter how much she tried to throw it to Agatha trying to manipulate her. - Y/N? 

   - I thought I saw Agatha. - she said, stepping just a behind the border of the hex. 

   - Did you see her? Did she spoke to you?

   - No. - she said, almost robotically like as the Scarlet Witch allowed the hex to open for them to enter. Instead of finding Bucky on the swings, Vision was sat there, awaiting both of them to arrive. 

Before any of them could speak, Y/N took to leaving the couple, walking straight towards the door of her own bedroom and locking it on her way in. She  leaned against her door, letting herself slide until she hit the ground, hands cupping her head as she told herself not to cry. There was no use in crying about it, the only use was to make a decision; however, she would be damned if she allowed anyone to have agency over her again. No, she wasn’t her father’s daughter, she wasn’t HYDRA’s failed experiment, Hayward’s project or the Winter Soldier’s lover. No, she wasn’t just one. She was a tweaked amalgamation of everything people had told her she was and now that identity was shrouded in fear. Fear of what she was capable of, of what she had made to me. Somehow, things felt simpler before she had any answers. 

  - Y/N? 

  - Gosh. - she put her hand over her chest as Vision passed through her wall as if it weren’t concrete. - The door is closed, Vision. It is not an invitation to pass through my wall. 

  - I am terribly sorry about that but Wanda is worried. - he sat next to her. - And since you are the godmother of my children, I do consider you part of my family.

   - Are you here to give me a philosophy lesson, Vision?

   - It is not my place to tell you what to do. You’ve done well enough for yourself over the years. 

   - Your intelligence is much more mathematical than mine.  I actually have a question for you.

   - Please do not ask me again what is the meaning of life. - Y/N laughed at his worried voice, shaking her head no.

   - Do you believe creation and destruction can live together? Balanced?

   - Well, I don’t think one can live without each other. Humans are born and then they die, creation and destruction. Nature is filled with it, it’s almost based on it. I mean, isn’t love creation and destruction? Heartbreak and emotion.

   - Destruction is overwhelming. -  she leaned her head against  the door, looking up at the ceiling. - It’s merely a downfall. 

    - Maybe you should chose a different philosophy question.

    - I don’t think I can. - she mumbled to herself before turning her face to the synthezoid. -  You should probably return to Wanda. She hates sleeping alone. 

He gave her a sympathetic look only to leave her standing in the middle of her room surrounded by her own insecurities which always clawed at her during the evenings. Raising her hand and seeing the familiar white glow everything felt much more scary to her. She had been better off thinking she could control the elements rather than matter itself. Yet part of her scoffed at HYDRA for not being able to figure it out soon enough. Still, it was not natural, not for her. She was a hand to hand combat trained fighter, barely using that which lied straight at her surface. Agatha was right, she couldn’t control it. She knew she couldn’t and whatever power she had around it was fickle. Too fickle. 

It was best to forget and move ahead. Have a cup of tea, it will make you feel better, Monica would tell her whenever someone particularly got on her nerves while at SWORD and right now it sounded like the best idea. However, opening her tea box, there was nothing but dust. She sighed, removing her boots and grabbing her nightgown before unlocking the door and walking towards the kitchen. Finding the kitchen, she also found the same person who seemed to hover over her thoughts, putting the kettle on top the hob.

   - It’s an electrical kettle. - she said, sly smirk as she turned on the hob before Bucky could destroy Wanda’s precious kettle. - It doesn’t go on the hob.

    - Oh ... - he felt stupid not knowing that yet he felt even more speechless in front of her as she put the kettle on the base and turned it on. - Less fire prone?

    - Oh no, Billy has set it almost on fire several times. - silence installed between the two as they tried to find something to say which sounded organic and not just forced.

    - Night cravings? 

    - I guess you could call it that. You?

    - Can’t sleep. 

    - Sam annoying you? We could always put you two on different rooms. 

    - Just nightmares, really. - he stood by her side, watching the water boil on the glass kettle. - Did I use to have them ... back then?

    - It depended. - she sighed. - Most of the times, yes. I’ve been having them too lately so I have resorted to not sleeping. 

   - That’s not very functional, is it doll?

   - I wouldn’t really use functional as a way to describe myself. - she looked at him, mostly wanting to lighten the mood yet it only seemed to harden his expression. - No one in my direct family is very functional either. 

    - You are not your father. You know that, right? - his hand lingered over her wrist as her torso moved to stand in front against his. His hand found her, fingers intertwining as if it was second nature to him. - I figured you would’ve found that out over all this time.

    - Do you think I could become like him? - she looked at her own feet. - Evil is not born, evil is made. Do you think I could become like him ... a villain?

    - No. - he shook his head as if her words were mere ramblings of a crazy person. - I’d bet my own life on it. 

    - There’s a way ... there’s someone who keeps offering me the opportunity to be normal. Not have whatever it is I have, just ordinary civilian life in a regular town surrounded by regular people. 

   - Y/N, the last thing you will ever be is ordinary. Nothing about you or me for that matter is ordinary. You can’t pursue an ordinary life ... you can pursue something that makes you happy. 

   - What if what makes me happy is being ordinary?

   - I spent most the last year wanting to ordinary, Y/N. I was not happy, I was just going through the motions and now ... well I found peace in the unpredictable, no matter how much I cannot control it.

    - Are you happy now? - she looked into his eyes, an honest and truly scary question. One that she could barely answer if it were her. 

     - You always made me happy. - her hands left the marbled kitchen stone so she could wrap her arms around him, head leaned against the soft fabric of his jumper. He sighed, kissing the top of her head, as his hand caressed her back, the other one keeping her flushed to him. Y/N slowly raised her head to look at him, watching his eyes reflect the moon light like they always did. Some things  never change. Bucky hand climbed from her back to cup her face, allowing her skin to sink into his roughed hand which probably had more cuts than it should. She looked at him like no one else did and she had seen it all. Heck, she’d seen things Bucky wished she would’ve never seen but she still looked at him like any other woman looked at their cared ones. 

    - It hurts every single day. - she mumbled, almost ashamed to admit to the man who had been through the most that it was starting to become hard to get up every time she fell down. - Everyone says they can help me but I feel like I’m being constantly knocked down and I’m just so tired. I’m so tired of always getting up, it hurts so much and for once I just want to lay down. 

    - It’s okay. - his finger caressed her cheek, metal arm still rubbing up and down her back. Bucky never liked to touch his face with his metal hand, he refused. - You don’t have to get up every single time and if you can’t there’s so many people here who’d give you a helping hand. You’re not alone, Y/N.

    - Yes, I am. - she bite the inside of her lip. - I’ve seen it and it’s only a matter of time before I hurt everyone. 

    - You’re not gonna hurt anyone, Y/N. 

    - It’s not my choice. - she took a step forward away from him. - It was decided for me.

    - Whatever you do ... - Bucky scratched his neck, trying to compose himself, his own words running through his mind as he wondered if he had done something wrong. - I’ll stand by your side. 

    - I ... I should probably get going. 

    - Me too, Sam might woke up and think I tried to escape ... again.

    - See you tomorrow, Bucky. - she spoke as he took initiative to leave first, wondering if he had done something to make her upset, said something wrong. 

Y/N waited for him to be far off before she took further and further into the building. It was always dark there and not a lot of people were allowed in that particular area of their own base. Wanda herself had stuffed some particular nasty things in that area as well as some of SHIELDs and SWORDs experimentation notes. Only some people could get in and she was one of those people. Despite this she twirled her hand, opening the door without using a card. The darkness only seemed to intensify, as she got closer and closer to it, the room only barely light by the almost scary aura. The room where Wanda Maximoff had stored the Darkhold.

taglist: @lookiamtrying @austynparksandpizza​

[artificialqueens]

Taste Your Beating Heart, Chapter Three (Taywhora) - Holtzmanns

word count: 5490 | ao3 link

Tayce needs to do it. Aurora would understand, if it were the other way around. It’s just the way things have to be.

Aurora freezes under her touch though doesn’t move away, because she trusts Tayce. A fatal mistake on her part. Sad, really. “What are you-”

It’s almost entertaining, the way her words cut off when Tayce bares her fangs and finally, she can have something to drink, as if she hasn’t been hungry for ages, and she closes the distance between them in less than a second and-

AN: Thank you all so much for the wonderful response on this fic, it makes me so happy! This chapter took a little while to update because real life has gotten a bit busy, but nonetheless, I hope you like it. Thank you Writ for betaing and being the best person to brainstorm with and Pop for taking out anything too Canadian sounding. Enjoy and tell me your thoughts!

_________

There are no more blood bags left. Tayce is thirsty, and there are no more blood bags in the fridge.

Bimini’s gone to visit a pal up north and Cara’s out hunting, and the last time any of them went to pick up more blood was at least a month ago, and crap, Tayce should have gone to stock up when their stash had first started to run low.

Maybe she can go for a hunt. There’s not enough time to get some more blood bags now but she can always grab someone off the street, for a quick snack.

Ding dong.

Shit. Shit . Aurora’s not supposed to be over for another hour, she can’t be here already-

“Open up! I have a surprise for you and I couldn’t wait at home tapping my toes any longer.”

Bloody hell. Tayce can smell her, there’s no need for Aurora to announce herself, really, but today the scent is more potent, wafting under Tayce’s nose, and she can’t help the way that her eyelids flutter as she lets out a breath.

“I’ll be there in a minute!” Tayce gets out before turning on her heels, running towards the fridge and throwing it open with desperation as if its contents will have changed from the last time she opened it five minutes ago.

There’s Lawrence’s three cheese lasagna that she’s yet to drop off to the neighbours’, but otherwise the fridge is empty of the blood bags that usually line the shelves. No surprise appearance of any blood. Tayce lets out a grunt in frustration.

“What’re you doing in there, taking a bath? Solving some maths equations? Masturbating? Don’t have all the fun without me,” Aurora snickers audibly through the door.

Maybe, just maybe, it’ll be fine. Tayce can put up with a few hours in Aurora’s presence without having fed already. She has good self control, she knows that after being with Aurora for a few months. She hasn’t done anything stupid yet.

She’ll just pay extra attention to herself.

“Shut up, I’m coming,” Tayce mutters, reaching the door handle to unlock it and steeling herself with a deep breath, which turns out to be a bad, bad idea.

Because when she pulls the door open Aurora launches herself at her in a hug, her legs wrapping around her waist and shit, she smells so good and Tayce’s mouth is watering and Aurora’s heart is pumping fast and the blood rushing through her veins is loud, much too loud in Tayce’s ears and it would be simply too easy to just twist her neck, wouldn’t be painful at all for her-

“Finally. And here I thought I was going to live the rest of my life out on your doorstep.” Aurora’s smile is easy, almost as if she doesn’t know how delectable her blood smells, how warm her touch is, before her brow furrows. “Hey, you okay?”

“What?” Tayce barely hears the question as she closes the door behind her, not when Aurora’s heartbeat is the loudest sound echoing in her brain, when all she can think about is how fucking thirsty she is.

She needs it.

Fuck it.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Tayce murmurs, and the words are almost a relief, even though Aurora’s eyes widen when Tayce takes a step closer, brushing her hair away from her neck.

Tayce needs to do it. Aurora would understand, if it were the other way around. It’s just the way things have to be.

Aurora freezes under her touch though doesn’t move away, because she trusts Tayce. A fatal mistake on her part. Sad, really. “What are you-”

It’s almost entertaining, the way her words cut off when Tayce bares her fangs and finally, she can have something to drink, as if she hasn’t been hungry for ages, and she closes the distance between them in less than a second and-

“Fuck!”

Tayce shoots up into a sitting position, the sheets rumpled around her waist as she tries to catch her breath, rub her eyes before opening them once more.

Bed. She’s in bed. Not her own bed but Aurora’s, the girl still peacefully slumbering beside her, her lips slightly parted as her chest rises and falls.

She hasn’t gone and killed her girlfriend. Fuck. Thank god. It had just been a dream, nothing more, and Aurora’s scent isn’t as overpowering as it had been in her sleep because Tayce isn’t hungry right now and the temptation is easy as always to ignore.

Nonetheless, she swings her legs over the side of the bed and pads towards the fridge, throwing it open. Beside the takeaway containers and the surely expired orange juice in the corner there are two bags of blood, the ones always stored in Aurora’s fridge for safekeeping.

Aurora is fine. Tayce is fine. Everything is fine.

Aurora’s still breathing when she looks over and Tayce isn’t hungry, because it had been a dream. Just a dream.

Tayce’s heart stopped beating centuries ago but she can almost still feel a phantom hammering in her chest, reminding her along with the beads of sweat on her forehead just how precarious of a situation this is. Climbing back into bed beside Aurora, resting her head back down on the pillow feels almost dangerous. What if she goes and snaps? What if she has another dream but wakes up and doesn’t realise it and goes for Aurora’s jugular anyway, the hunting side of her taking over as it does when she’s on the prowl? Aurora’s her girlfriend, yeah, but she’s also human, and what if Tayce gets to a point that she just can’t resist?

What if the short term pursuit of something to drink means that Tayce will eventually lose Aurora by her own hand?

Fuck, this is why she never does this. She’s seen it happen before, like with Asttina and her girlfriend back in the sixties, or when Cara had tried to date that human pirate in the late 1700s. It doesn’t ever end well with humans, Tayce knows that.

A tiny part of her wants to believe that she’ll never hurt Aurora, that she’ll always be in control of herself because god knows, she never wants anything to happen to her. It can’t, not when Tayce is going to be the one to have to pick up the pieces of her own shit actions and Aurora’s going to be the one to pay the price. Tayce is always careful - she drinks every time before seeing Aurora, even when she’s not thirsty, and she’s good at tuning out Aurora’s scent after months with her. There’s very little risk in Tayce’s rational brain, because Aurora herself is more important. The fact that she’s living and breathing and has so much in front of her.

She’s not ever going to lose that because Tayce is hungry. Not in a million years.

But then again, what if Tayce is fooling herself and sooner or later her sleep-addled mind is just going to go for it? What if Aurora will simply be in the way and Tayce won’t be able to control herself?

She’s really fooling herself with trying to form a sense of normalcy with Aurora, in this quasi sort of relationship. As if Tayce is human herself and can enjoy human things, as if she even deserves them. As if she’s not going to outlive every human alive on earth today and see their graves, only for a whole new group of humans to roam the planet.

The thing is, Tayce wants it. She wants it so badly. She wants to be able to wake up with someone who she can call her girlfriend, she wants to go to uni and go clubbing and stop at a kebab shop on the way home. She wants to visit her parents on holidays and have goals and career aspirations and a lifetime to look forward to.

Instead, she’d buried her parents back in the 1600s and has survived precisely one burning at the stake and three town mobs under suspicion for being a witch.

Idiotic humans, never quite getting their monsters right.

Tayce can pretend, though. Sometimes, when she’s in Aurora’s bed and has an arm around her as she’s starting to doze off, she can imagine that she’s only twenty two, maybe, still with so much to experience in life ahead of her. She can pretend she has human problems like having a shit boss at work or looking for the perfect gift to buy for an anniversary. Sometimes it feels real, when she can feel how warm Aurora’s skin is against hers and how her heartbeat is steady.

But then Tayce holds two fingers up to her pulse point on her neck and feels nothing at all. And why would she, when she stopped having a pulse centuries ago?

Aurora shuffles beside her, turning over onto her side and mumbling something into her pillow and it’s dangerous, really, how much Tayce’s heart swells when she sees it. How much Aurora’s affecting her after only a few months, how much she doesn’t want to lose her already.

Because it’s inevitable, when with someone immortal. Bound to happen.

The clock on Aurora’s bedside table reads 03:13, and sleep is the last thing that Tayce wants to do anymore. Not when she remembers the sight of how Aurora had been so close and easy to-

No. Tayce won’t even think about that. Not if dreams can ever have a chance of being premonitions.

Humans are too fragile for their own good. If only Tayce could build some armour for Aurora to keep her safe, protect her from anything that could possibly hurt her. Tayce pushes away the thought that what Aurora needs protection from most is, well…her.

The unselfish thing to do would be to let Aurora go, to stop sleeping over at her flat and spending time with her and going on little dates and let her live her life the way that she deserves to. To let her grow up, maybe get married and start a family of her own the way Aurora should have the chance to do if she wants.

The thing is though, Tayce is selfish. Very selfish, because she loves the rosiness along Aurora’s cheeks and the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles and the way Aurora’s hands tangle in her hair when she’s between her legs and eating her out. Tayce doesn’t want to let it go, and honestly, she can’t.

She’ll just have to be careful. Really, really, careful.

Everything is fine. It’ll continue to be fine.

Maybe if Tayce tells herself that enough, she’ll start to believe it, too.

Tayce lies awake for the rest of the night, forgoing the sleep that she doesn’t require as a vampire to function in favour of fiddling with the edge of the blanket, her eyes flitting over Aurora’s sleeping form. The way Aurora’s chest rises and falls as she sleeps is a tease that Tayce can’t look away from, rubbing salt into the reminders that the two of them are so irrevocably different.

It’s almost a relief when the morning takes over and the room around them begins to lighten, as Aurora blinks away the sleep from her eyes and snuggles a little into Tayce’s side before pressing a kiss into her shoulder. Tayce can feel her lips pull into a smile without meaning to.

“Morning, sleepyhead. Was starting to think you’d never rise from that slumber.”

Aurora raises an eyebrow, adorably rumpled as she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Were you watching me sleep?”

“No!” Maybe Tayce sounds a little too defensive, because Aurora starts to snicker. “Not on purpose. I couldn’t sleep, and your snores were so loud that I couldn’t help but gape in astonishment.”

Aurora squeaks, shoving Tayce’s shoulder. “I don’t snore! Take it back.”

“How would you know? You’re gone to dreamland when you do,” Tayce grins, leaning in to kiss the pout that begins to form on Aurora’s lips.

She does feel a little bit bad, though, considering that Aurora doesn’t snore in the least, and so she pushes herself off the bed amidst Aurora’s protests and grabby hands, and pads toward the kitchen.

“What d’you want for breakfast? You want me to make you something small before your morning lecture? Can’t have you falling asleep on your professors, can we?”

“So mean today,” Aurora huffs, sitting down at the counter, but there’s a small smile on her face, almost bashful at the offer. “Some beans and toast?”

“Coming right up, your majesty.”

Human food isn’t too appetizing to Tayce anymore, but the process of putting it together remains somewhat soothing. Maybe it’s the different parts, the methodicalness of it all. Maybe it’s the way Aurora’s face lights up when Tayce puts the plate in front of her. Either way, she doesn’t mind it in the least.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Aurora mumbles through a mouthful of her breakfast, putting the toast down on her plate.

Tayce’s movements stutter slightly as she’s washing the saucepan in the sink. “Hmm?”

Maybe it’s nothing. It’s not like Aurora knows about Tayce’s dream from last night, or the slight twists of uneasiness that run through her system at the idea of having Aurora entangled in her messes. But then again, Aurora’s not one to tread lightly, closer to a bull in a china shop than any sort of graceful creature. She never hesitates when expressing an opinion or any sort of emotions, which is why Tayce isn’t sure why she nearly drops the pan at her question.

“What is it exactly that we are, Tayce?”

“So you just…”

“Ran back here, obviously. What else was I supposed to do?”

“You absolute, fucking eejit.”

Lawrence’s words are stated with the weariness of a tired mum, and Tayce can’t blame her, frankly, not when she’s pacing back and forth in the living room herself.

“She asked what we are!” Tayce exclaims, crossing her arms as if it’ll rid her stomach of the pit of dread that’s started to form.

It’s not as if Tayce hadn’t known it was coming. She’s not stupid. It’s just that…

There are things she’d rather not think about if she doesn’t have to.

“You’ve been shacking up with her for months now. You don’t think the girl was bound to get a bit restless?” Lawrence asks, rubbing her temples. “No self-respecting woman’s going to hang around like a wee koala on your back without a good reason to do so.”

“Why does everything need to have a label? Can’t we just go with the flow, isn’t that a thing?” Tayce asks, flopping down on the couch beside Lawrence. “Naming it makes it complicated.”

“As if getting cozy with a living, breathing, human rather than sucking her blood for dinner wasn’t complicated enough,” Lawrence tuts, shaking her head. “You’ve made your bed, babes. And your girl’s about to leave it ‘cause you did a shit job with the sheets.”

Tayce sighs, sinking lower onto the couch. The pool of dread in her abdomen feels like it’s growing larger and larger, creating a web that feels like it’s going to overwhelm her at a moment’s notice, drowning her in what ifs and hypotheticals that all end negatively.

“Okay, think of it this way,” Lawrence starts. “D’you want to drink her blood and all that? Get a little snack?”

Tayce shoots up from her slouched position, indignation rising in her chest at the suggestion. “What? No! Why would you ask that?”

“Then d’you want to break up with her instead? Let her go?”

“No, I…” Tayce trails off, pausing. “I should, right?”

Maybe she should. Maybe it would be for the best. Maybe Tayce can resign herself to the single life, on her own forever and ever. Aurora can find a nice girl and live her life and die of old age in sixty or so years, the way a human should.

That’s what Aurora deserves, right?

“No, you shouldn’t, you numpty,” Lawrence says, cutting through her resignation with a smack on her shoulder. “You’re having fun. She’s having fun. What’s the harm? Why not call it something?”

“Because that makes it…”

Real.

Putting a label on it means that Tayce has to acknowledge the fact that she’s really, truly doing this. That if there’s the chance that this could become something long term, Tayce will have to deal with the consequences that will inevitably arise. If she doesn’t lose Aurora to her own fangs, she’ll lose her to time.

Wouldn’t it be better to cut this off before it becomes infinitely more painful on Tayce’s still heart?

Lawrence raises an eyebrow. “Newsflash, it’s already real. You brought her here to meet all of us, didn’t you? I don’t see any other humans that you’ve brought around these parts.”

“Well, that would be because I haven’t done this with any other humans, have I?”

The words make Tayce pause as they leave her lips. She’s never thought about it before, the fact that Aurora’s the only human she’s spent time with like this. Sure, there was the werewolf girl in the early 1800s, and that fae Tayce met when visiting Snowdon once, and Tayce certainly can’t forget the siren she’d had a fling with when her and Cara and Lawrence and Bimini last went to the coast.

But a human? Before Aurora, humans had been a means to an end, an occasional treat. Humans represented Tayce’s past and her old life that she’d had to let go of after being turned, a mosaic of unreached aspirations and plans that Tayce won’t be able to see to fruition despite her immortality.

Aurora had started off as a hunt, a quick snack, before turning Tayce’s world upside down, waking up her heart and making it flutter a bit after four hundred years. But now, Aurora’s captured her in her grasp and Tayce is not sure that she necessarily wants to let go.

Even if it’s going to be painful, eventually, when they do.

Because what Tayce has with Aurora right now is certainly not going to last forever. Not when humans have an expiry date written in fine print across their rib cages.

“Y’know what I think?” Lawrence starts, patting Tayce’s shoulder, “I think you need to talk to her. What’s wallowing on your own going to do? She’s probably pouting all on her own, too. Go pout with her, it’s a nice couples activity.”

Tayce snorts, despite the uneasiness flowing through her veins at the prospect. “You’re certainly one to talk. Shouldn’t you go and pout with your wife?”

“We are here to talk about your relationship problems, not mine,” Lawrence huffs, waving a hand. “I’m the one playing agony aunt here.”

“Why don’t you just call her, Lawrence?”

“Well, she hasn’t called me either, has she?” Lawrence’s voice increases in pitch just a tad, matching the crease that forms between her eyebrows.

“Tell you what,” Tayce starts, “I’ll talk to Aurora if you talk to Ellie.”

It’s a silly prospect, considering that Tayce knows that she has to talk to Aurora regardless, sort out this web of nonsense and confusion while also figuring out what she wants. She’s certainly not going to pull a Lawrence, by running away and just not talking to Aurora for the foreseeable future, because that’s not her.

Well. The second part, at least. She’s already gone and run away from Aurora upon the first question about commitment.

But Lawrence, though? After eighty years of not seeing her wife? Her stubbornness is only matched by Ellie’s, and from the way Lawrence scoffs, Tayce isn’t sure if the idea is enough to convince her.

“Tell you what,” Lawrence counters, “I’ll wait for Ellie to call me first. Let’s see if that ever happens.”

“You’re more stubborn than Cara was last week when trying to fit into that dress she bought a size too small.”

“Don’t let her hear you,” Lawrence snickers, and Tayce can’t help but join in, despite the way the clouds of uncertainty hang above not only her head, but above Lawrence’s, too.

Maybe she can plot with Bimini and Cara and figure out how to get Ellie and Lawrence in the same place. Maybe lock them in a cupboard until they work it out.

But first, Tayce needs to work her own shit out. As much as her heart drops at the prospect, as much as she’d rather stay far, far away and avoid her problems and pretend nothing is wrong…she can’t. Not when every fibre in her body feels like it’s being pulled towards Aurora’s flat, as if she doesn’t want to, but needs to see her again, talk to her, spend time with her, figure everything out with her.

It’s dangerous, very dangerous, how much it bothers Tayce to stay away from Aurora. How much her body almost rejects the concept. She’s in too deep for a human she met only a few months ago, enough that past Tayce would laugh at exactly how pathetic she has become.

Not that the opinions of past Tayce even matter at this point, when she’s in so deep. And somehow, Tayce can’t bring herself to care about them.

The passage of time means nothing when you’re immortal, though the minutes that pass between Tayce’s knock and the door finally opening feel indefinite.

“Started to think you’d let me turn to dust out there,” Tayce starts, though the attempt at a lighthearted comment falls flat when she sees the mascara smudges under Aurora’s eyes.

Fuck.

Aurora’s attempt at disinterest is easy to see through, the speed of her pulse and the tap of her fingers on the doorframe betraying how affected she is. “What d’you want?”

“I - can I come in?” Tayce asks, because really, she’s not about to have a conversation on the doorstep, and although Aurora narrows her eyes, she opens the door enough for her to pass nonetheless.

Aurora shuts the door behind them, wrapping her fluffy robe around herself a little tighter with a slight protrusion of her bottom lip. “Are you here to break up with me? ‘Cause if you are, don’t say anything, I’m breaking up with you first. I don’t get broken up with.”

The words are accompanied by a sniffle that slightly dampens the effect, and despite the way her chest is tight Tayce has to hold a smile back at the way Aurora is so quintessentially herself.

“Now who said anything about breaking up?”

Not that they’re together. On paper, at least.

“You ran out of here like you’d seen your nan in her knickers!” Aurora exclaims, crossing her arms with a huff. “That’s practically screaming that you want to break up.”

“Now that’s a sight to consider.”

“Stop it,” Aurora grumbles, letting out a breath, and Tayce has to resist the urge to reach out a hand, wipe the mascara track on her cheek. “You need to start talking.”

Part of Tayce wants to stall more, ask Aurora about what, but…there’s no avoiding this anymore. Tayce can’t, despite the blissful months of pretending that future consequences won’t exist. Better to face it. Do something about it.

Even though she feels like she wants to be sick.

“Aurora, I don’t…do this. All of this. This casual thing, this dating…deluding myself into thinking I’m in my twenties and not frozen in time for centuries. This isn’t normal, what we’re doing. Not normal in the least.”

It’s not, and it never works out, if her friends’ past experiences are anything to go by. Humans are risky, their fragile forms enveloped in concerns around their weaknesses and mortality and penchant for ending up as prey.

“So what? Why’s it matter what’s normal and what isn’t?” Aurora says it like it’s a challenge, a slight narrow of her eyes. “When have you ever been normal?”

“ I don’t want to be normal, no thank you. God forbid. But you deserve normal,” Tayce counters, and the words sink heavy in her stomach like stones. “And to live life the way you’re supposed to.”

Aurora huffs, so quintessentially her. “Who’re you to tell me what I’m supposed to do?”

Part of Tayce just wants to let it go, give in to the fact that maybe an imperfect existence is acceptable. But she can’t, not when Aurora isn’t fully aware of the consequences.

“I’m stuck,” Tayce starts, “and you’re not. You’re going to get to live your life and you’re going to learn and grow and change the way any human should, and I’m not going to do that. I’m frozen in time, I don’t get to go forward with you.”

Tayce remembers her first century as a vampire. When those around her had started to age, clinging onto the passage of time like vines and watching them grow as the new generations took their places. The countless funerals, the new humans replacing their existence on Earth. The realization that human Tayce would have been six feet under by that time, too.

It’s sobering.

“Are you saying you don’t want me ‘cause I’ll get all old?” Aurora splutters, her eyes widening. “With all the white hair and wrinkles and nursing home stays to come? That’s what this is about? You don’t want to wipe my arse one day?”

“What I’m saying is that you deserve someone to grow old with. You deserve someone who can share all the human experiences that are yet to come for you.”

Experiences that Tayce won’t ever have, no matter how long she’s on the planet for. The reminder is a twinge in her back, a dull pain in her abdomen, a reminder of the shit tradeoffs one gets with immortality.

“And what if I don’t want them?” Aurora’s voice carries a challenge as she takes a step closer to Tayce. “What if I just want you?”

“You sound like you’re straight out of a Nicholas Sparks book with that line,” Tayce quips, but Aurora pokes her shoulder.

“Tell me you don’t feel it, too. That this is worth it. You could have killed me that first time we ran into each other, or the second time, and you didn’t. Why is that?”

Tayce shrugs, trying to ignore the part of her brain that already knows the answer with implications that she doesn’t want to think about.  “I wasn’t hungry.”

The words are a lie and Aurora knows it, from the way she rolls her eyes.

“Bullshit, and you know it. Y’know what I think? I don’t think this is about wanting me to have a normal life. I think this is about you. You’re scared.”

Tayce scoffs, because she doesn’t get scared. Not when she’s stronger than any apex predator on the planet. “You think I’m scared?”

“You’re scared of what’s going to happen in the future. Is that why you’re trying to cut this off now?” The understanding that blooms on Aurora’s face makes Tayce want to hide, turn away.

Aurora can read her like a book too damn well.

“You want to walk away now? You really think that’s going to make a difference?” Aurora runs a hand through her hair and Tayce hates how sharp her senses are sometimes, because she gets a whiff of her shampoo and it makes her heart tug, a reminder of how nice it is to snuggle with Aurora’s head against her shoulder.

Tayce tries to imagine what it would be like to let Aurora go now. Not coming over to her flat, not waking her up with kisses. Not seeing the way Aurora lights up whenever she asks her to drop by campus, not being able to make cheesy jokes that make Aurora’s nose scrunch up.

Fuck.

As much as Tayce prides herself on being headstrong and in control of herself, she’s not sure she’d even be able to go through with leaving.

“Then what are we supposed to do?” Tayce hates how vulnerable she sounds, the cracks in her armour that somehow only Aurora is capable of shining a light through.

Aurora, for her part, doesn’t fault her for it, only stepping forward to lace their fingers together. It’s a lifeline, a rope that keeps Tayce steady despite the way her mind is spinning with what ifs and consequences for what they’ve gotten themselves into.

“We’ll just take it one day at a time, that’s what,” Aurora whispers, pulling Tayce in closer for a kiss, and Tayce can feel the armour that she keeps around herself begin to develop some hairline cracks along the metal.

Maybe it’ll be worth it, if it means she’ll get time with Aurora before inevitably losing her and having to pick up the pieces. Tayce never really has made the best decisions to protect her own heart in the long run.

But at least she’ll make sure that she’s protecting Aurora’s in the process.

The house is quiet when Tayce unlocks the door. It’s only about 6 in the morning, but time doesn’t matter much when sleep is for fun rather than a necessity. Still, the lack of commotion is a bit surprising as Tayce kicks off her boots and walks further inside.

Tayce’s heart feels a little bit lighter as she looks at herself in the bathroom mirror. She’s never going to have lines along her forehead or sprout any grey hairs, but the conversation with Aurora feels like it’s taken years off of her system, resolving the tension that had begun to build along her spine.

Because she’s accepting the fact that she’ll have to lose Aurora eventually. It’s inevitable with the fundamental differences between them, the fact that Aurora has a clock that’s ticking while Tayce doesn’t. And maybe, just maybe, that’s fine, because Tayce doesn’t have to deal with it now.

It’s a problem for future Tayce, who is no doubt going to tell her off for already being so attached to a human once she has to let go of her.

Tayce is going to take it one day at a time, like Aurora said. Relish in the time that they do have, take solace in the fact that Aurora’s still living and breathing with her heart still beating for now. The reminder of Aurora’s mortality doesn’t have to affect her until it becomes something that neither of them can ignore.

But until then? Tayce is going to enjoy time with her girlfriend.

Girlfriend. A word that Aurora had squealed at when Tayce had properly asked her, feeling a bit silly herself because in her hundreds of years, she’s never had to use it before. Tayce had been through courtships and some short lived marriages back in the day, but this is new, uncharted territory, even for her, and she feels like a teenager again with the butterflies that sit in her stomach.

Tayce heads towards the kitchen, her mind on Aurora as she goes to grab a blood bag from the fridge. The straw that she shoves through the plastic before taking a sip reminds her of the Capri Suns that Aurora likes so much.

“ Psst. ”

“Ah!” Tayce jumps at the sound and can feel her cheeks burn at the cackle as she turns around to see Ellie at the kitchen table, looking positively delighted.

“Perception abilities gone to shit, have they?”

“What’re you doing here?” Tayce grins, heading around the side of the counter to hug her friend. “Lawrence finally got up off her arse and called you, then?”

“I can hear your foghorn voices!” Lawrence bellows as she shuffles into the kitchen, a sheepish look on her face as she makes eye contact with Tayce. “You. Don’t you dare gloat.”

“No gloating here,” Tayce holds her hands up, but nonetheless shoots a wink at Lawrence. “Just a light I told you so .”

Lawrence doesn’t seem to mind, though, as she goes to stand beside Ellie, nearly at her height while Ellie’s sitting down. “We may have talked things through. A little bit.”

“About how Lawrence was a bit of a stubborn cow - hey , ouch - okay, about both of us were stubborn cows,” Ellie shrugs, rubbing her side where Lawrence had elbowed her only moments earlier.

“Well, look at that. A nice little fairytale ending for the two of you. I feel a bit like a proud mum, if I’m honest with myself,” Tayce grins, but Lawrence is quick to shoot her a look.

“And you? Have you stopped pouting and sorted things with your woman?”

“For now.” Tayce shrugs, and doesn’t add more, because it’s true.

For now. They’re fine, Aurora’s fine and alive, and the two of them have this for now, even if they may not later. And maybe, that’s what remains the most important thing.

They’re fine and ready to thrive for now.

[danielletinybruiser]

The Good Fight New York/New Jersey Open 7/31/21

I competed yesterday! And I actually feel really good about it! I'm a writer, so, writing about my experiences helps me really grasp them and process them and such, so, here goes! 

And also: as always, when I compete, it's in basically no-stakes tournaments for anybody. I'm not going to big competitions, I'm just doing this as a hobby and going to light fires under my butt and test my skills as they are in the moment. So, I take it seriously, but I don't go into this with delusions of grandeur! I do not think I am the next Danielle Kelly.

(Content warning for weight here, I talk about it a fair bit!)

I think I prepared pretty well this time around! I trained *a lot* and took conditioning very seriously. I also had a funny thing with weight: since getting my (cough, cough, under my breath) Peleton - I've been riding a lot and running a ton using the app. I sure thought I was being a genius doing frequent two-a-day cardio workouts, thinking "oh yeah, I'll be 125 no problem." Instead, obviously, I gained some muscle weight from doing tons of high intensity interval workouts. It's a good thing! I'm so much stronger than I was, walking now at 134-137, and my cardio is very solid. But it did mean having to be very conscious of weight to ensure I came in at 135 on Saturday.

Again, this should actually be ideal for this level of competition (read: LOW), because it means my walking weight and competition weight are super nice and close (I used to be around 126-129 and still competed at 135, thanks to the other major tournament I do having nothing between 120 and 135), and I feel so much more durable.

An action shot! Thanks for reading so far! Lol

So, I was strict with my diet for the last month (I usually am, this just meant no cheat days for a couple of weeks, really), and did weigh-ins periodically, then every day in the last week. It also meant doing a little bit of math and knowing exactly what kind of food I could have in the morning, and what was safe to do in terms of sweating just in case. It was good to know, because that came in handy!

Yesterday morning, I woke up at 136.2 (you get a 1lb allowance, so I was only .2 over). I did a shorty 15 minute HIIT workout so I could have a tiny bit of food and fluid, being very careful to not dehydrate or do anything stupid. I'm not going to cut weight for this, lol, but it would be truly ridiculous for me, at my height (5'5") and body composition (muscular, but not JACKED), to have to go in at 145 for being, you know, .2 over.

The nice side effect of a short workout in the morning was helping my nerves a little bit (they were BAD), so at least that helped me breathe. I don't know if I've ever been this anxious before competing before, and I'm not sure exactly why — I know there are no stakes besides my pride, there's no money on the line, this isn't my career! This is my hobby, for fuck's sake, so I don't know why my body interpreted "lets compete" as "we are going to WAR and we might DIE," but there it was! I was scared! Brains are stupid!

We got a tiny bit lost on the way, but it was ok because things were running behind at the tournament. No problem at all. I made weight (135.6) and started to warm up. The venue had plenty of extra space on a turf field to warm up, and Viki was a SAINT, not only to drive my nervous ass over, but to help me warm up about six times. I felt better after just drilling and flow rolling a tiny bit.

It was a long wait, but my gi division was up first. I had one opponent at bantamweight, so, a small bracket in gi.

Here's how it goes in a submission-only tournament: you have your brackets, for a full division it's basically semi-finals and finals, with a bronze medal match and the two winners do a gold/silver match. With two, it's best two out of three wins gold, the other person gets silver.

For blue belts, we have eight minute regulation matches. No points, no advantages, no stupid bullshit (sorry, I hate points tournaments). If you both survive eight minutes with no submissions, you go into overtime rounds: a back take, a spiderweb/armbar, and a classic head and arm triangle. For each, the defender needs to escape, and the attacker needs to submit. If you successfully escape, and you successfully submit, you win! If both people escape, or both people submit, you go to the next round, and it repeats as needed (back, armbar, triangle).

It's a great format, imo, and really suits my style: I play defense, I like to wear people down, and then go for it when I see an opportunity. I will play all kinds of wild positions and try to get creative and weird with it, and frankly have fun, and I think submission-only facilitates that!

Still, I was so goddamned nervous.

We started the match and it was ON. My opponent and I were really, really well matched. Size and skill wise, we gave each other a lot of hell. It was rough, too, and I have all the bruises on my face to prove it! But I was having fun. A lot of fun.

Overtime action shot!

Our match went through regulation, to overtime. I escaped her back take, but her coaches fought with the ref a little. I offered to do it again, because, hey, I want to do it better. This may have been stupid of me, but I also, like... the reason I like sub-only so much is that I hate stupid technicalities and bullshit. So I offered to go again and did! And I escaped pretty well. On my turn to attack, I submitted her.

I honestly couldn't believe I won a match in gi. The last time I got a gold medal in gi, it was because I went to the 30+ division, and my opponent was 53. I was happy to win that day, but like... c'mon. I was 35 at the time. In sub-only, women don't have age categories, and I believe my opponent was maybe a bit younger than me, but probably not far from my age, and tough as hell. She was my size, we were well-matched in strength. And she BROUGHT IT.

I remember that going through my head, like "you can win in gi???" I could hardly believe it. I got my hand raised IN GI.

This felt great, and I was basically in shock.

(I won't belabor this, but I hate the gi. I think I'm terrible in it. Tuesday night - my last hard training day before competition, I did ok, but felt demoralized. I almost cried after training and told Viki that night "I don't think I'm going to compete in gi" and thought about pulling my registration. This is why I couldn't believe it, lol).

We had a short break and went again. Again, we did the full regulation match - she had an armbar at one point that I escaped, and I did have a last second back take and choke attempt, but I ran out of time. We went to overtime, I escaped her back take... and I remember, in the moment, getting ready for my turn to attack: "this is probably for a medal. IN GI. You are this close!" and I cinched it with a submission. I got my hand raised again. I thanked her and her coaches, and even chatted with them a little.

We went to the podium - another woman congratulated me on the match, saying she watched it and love dit. The podium worker said the same, and I was flattered. Kirsten (my opponent, who again, was fucking AWESOME and tough) and I did the podium thing, getting our medals and taking pictures.

Podium action shot!

Then, it was off to watch my teammate Ollie compete and kick ass,  and then get changed for no-gi, where I absolutely knew Kirsten was going to come for blood, lol.

It still didn't feel real: a gold medal? Me? Danielle? Gi-hating Danielle who almost cried after just training in a gi on Tuesday night (again, nothing went wrong, lol, my training partners are incredibly conscientious and were preparing me!) - I let myself wear the medal for a couple of minutes before putting it in the backpack.

Even now, just about 24 hours later, it doesn't feel completely real. I swear, I only even compete in the gi because it's just five bucks more to do both divisions, and you may as well get all the rolls you can on a day you are showing up.

There was a pretty big time gap between gi and no gi, but I was honestly a little nervous again. They put a (fantastic) purple belt (that's the next skill level up if you aren't familiar with jiu jitsu, and a pretty huge gap for me, being honest) in our division, and I faced her first. There was really no pressure at all here, I do not expect to win against a purple belt. I feel — very honestly — that I have a very, very long way to go in blue. Based on how the day went, I do feel like I'm on my way, and making real improvements — But I'm no where near purple.

I survived about five minutes of an eight minute regulation period, and did survive a pretty intense back take at first, but she got me with a second back take and rear naked choke/crank. All the power to her!

Then, the bronze medal match was between me and Kirsten again (who I faced in gi). Holy shit, this was a doozy. We fought really, really hard in regulation. I know she wanted it BADLY after gi, and I could tell she had serious wrestling and probably Judo as well in her background. She tossed my ass around! It was rough and it was tough, and my face is a little fucked up today, not going to lie. But I loved it, and loved rolling with her — she had such good pressure, and beautiful knee cuts, and she was strong and fast and athletic.

We went through regulation, to the first overtime. I won the "rock paper scissors" to determine who went first and I took her back... and she escaped. She did her back attack, and I escaped. 

At this point, I was TIRED. Not no much cardio-tired (I have myself conditioned pretty well), but... "I want to lie down and sleep" tired. But I got her in the armbar position for the second round, squeezed... and got the tap! Again, I thought "you are this close to a medal!" and defended the second round armbar well.. I really, really thought I was out, but in the last possible instant she just NAILED IT and got my arm back and I had to tap. It was fantastic, she did well to grab it back.

So, we went to a third round of overtime. Triangle. I had her in, squeezed, cut the angle... and got the tap! Yes! Now, I really knew I was close. I tapped her, all I needed to do was escape her triangle and I'd have a bronze in no-gi. I wanted it. I really wanted it!

I got into her triangle. It was tight right away (which it should be!), I *thought* I had stacked her in the correct position to escape, I thought I could do it...

And then... I remember dreaming. I started coming to, thinking I was asleep in my bed, and that i was dreaming about competition. I started to become conscious, and I heard her say "I think she's out!" and saw her face and the ref's face. It took me a few moments, but I realized where I was, and that I had passed out completely. She sank a PERFECT blood choke on me. Absolutely picture perfect.

I sort of kept saying, in my confusion "I'm ok! I'm ok!" and shook her hand and kind of stumbled off the mat.

Me, laughing in utter confusion after taking a nice nap on the mat (my opponent was really nice about it!)

Later on, I realized: we were actually supposed to go to a fourth overtime round! We both submitted to a triangle (if you lose consciousness, that counts as a tap!), and I believe the ref was actually asking me if I wanted to continue. Hand to heart, I'm not trying to save face, I just didn't realize it at all, in my complete confusion. I accidentally forfeited by walking off, lol. I seriously had no idea, and honestly, it was probably better that I didn't try to do another round THAT confused.

But still, that is absolutely going to be something I kick myself about, for forever. Just being THAT CLOSE.

By the way, I will say: it was the second time losing consciousness in jiu jitsu (and the first time... I'm not sure I was all the way out, this time I absolutely was) — it doesn't hurt. I'm not saying it's pleasant or great, exactly, it's very, very disorienting, because you actually start to dream a bit and have NO IDEA where you are for a few. But I would rather that than a broken arm or a torn ACL, so, as things happen on the mat, really not a terrible experience.

Kirsten deserves all the respect in the world — she put me out, and FAST (I had no idea how fast until Viki told me, lol. I sure thought I was fighting it for much longer!). She was wonderful to compete with, and I felt we were very evenly matched and got the best out of one another. I chatted with her afterward and we both complimented one another.

Overall, I'm proud of how hard I fought. I know that, in competition, I have absolutely defeated my self before, and gotten so discouraged. It's never conscious, I will always push, I will always mechanically force myself to get back up and get back out. Always. But mentally, in the past, I've really fucked myself.

Yesterday, I vowed to stay patient, and I actually did. I stuck to a gameplan fully: patience, defense, attacking whenever I saw or felt an opportunity. I actually feel, for the first time, that I did my best out there, the best I can do with my jiu jitsu right now, at 4.5 years of training, as a blue belt with one stripe.

That is a wildly unfamiliar feeling. Every other time I've competed, I've come out with at least a few things that were "holy christ, I am terrible at X and need to work on Y." The only other slight exception was the sub only tournament I got my first-ever medals at (silver in both) where I legitimately shocked myself. Even then, I had a couple of specific things I needed to work on (ankle lock defense! I still think about it!)

I'm a little bit beat up today (that armbar I thought I was out of, then got caught right at the last second? I tapped on time, but "on time" with adrenaline is "a tiny bit late" so it hurts like hell today), and will probably just do cardio for a few days to take time to heal up before going back to grappling. But I feel really proud. I feel good about it. I feel stupid as hell for accidentally forfeiting, but overall very pleased with the day.

Where do I go from here? Rubber guard, baby! I want to get *great* at rubber guard. And this has given me a huge boost to keep chipping away at gi, no matter how much I may hate it in the moment. Because I won yesterday, I do get a free invitation to the submission only worlds for this tournament, so, that's something I can think about...

But for now... I'm going to try and let the good parts sink in. Viki got me victory pizza last night, and holy shit, I don't know if anything has ever tasted so good :D

[atths--twice]

Practical College Applications

A college AU, in which Mulder and Scully meet and get to know one another as they apply college courses, to real life scenarios.

I am not sure I posted this here, it being awhile back that I posted the first chapter, well the one shot really, but I wanted to post it again in case I hadn’t and because I have written a new chapter to the story. I also changed the original title as it is now looking like this may be a multi-chapter story. 

Last August I saw a post on Twitter that had this photo and asked this question:  On Twitter, "Ok, but what if instead of a hotel room it was a cabin, and they were students on an excursion." Well ... if anyone knows me, they know that I was immediately intrigued and began to think of a plan. What kind of excursion, I asked. Any type! I was told, and so here we are! I hope you enjoy, the tale I've created.

Botany 101- A Nice Trip To The Forest

Fox Mulder, known to everyone as Mulder, as he hated his first name, shifted his backpack for what felt like the twentieth time in the last half hour. It had not been problematic when he had worn it at home and around town, as he had gotten used to the weight of the things he would need for this weekend away, but now it felt as though his items had been replaced with rocks.

He had been looking forward to this trip since the class began. It was one of the main reasons he had signed up for a botany class in the first place - the eventual excursion into the forest it had promised.

School had been keeping him busy and unable to escape the noise and the fast pace of the city. Since he had transferred to the University of Maryland, he had been working harder and buckling down. He had saved enough in the past two years of working to not have to worry about anything but his studies.

Torn between which electives to take for the year, he had settled on botany. He had always enjoyed nature and discovering new things within, so it seemed perfect. The class was not too full from the offset, and it had dwindled down to even less soon thereafter. Mulder however, found the class intriguing and enjoyed the lectures. The professor was funny and kept the class entertained.

There was also, though Mulder would not freely admit it, a woman in the class he found very beautiful. He had not spoken to her, save the occasional hello as they passed each other, but she captivated him. This was actually the second course they shared, and though he enjoyed the more intimate class size, he knew he would appear a fool if he spoke to her. His words got tripped up by his tongue when he was around her.

“Hey, Mulder,” said a voice, and he sighed as he saw Kyle Dale walk up beside him. He really did not care for Kyle. He was very rich and made sure to let everyone know it. “You know there’s only the two girls here, and there are us six guys. We need to be the ones to make a move, the other guys are losers.” Kyle nudged him as he raised his eyebrows, and Mulder adjusted his backpack yet again.

“I’d recommend you don’t let the women hear you say that, Kyle, not girls. In fact, maybe don’t say that at all. This isn’t some bar, it’s a college course. We’re all here to learn and you know, I haven’t seen either of them show any interest in you at school, I can’t imagine the woods will change their opinions,” Mulder said, glancing at the two women and then back to Kyle. “Just, let them be.”

“Jesus, you’re such a fucking downer, man. Do you ever get laid?” Kyle shook his head and walked away, catching up to Brian Harding and glancing back at Mulder as they both laughed loudly.

Assholes, he thought, shaking his head. He looked back at the women again and watched the one he found attractive, hoping he was not being too obvious.

She laughed at something her friend Hannah said, tossing her long red braid over her shoulder. God, he was such a sucker for redheaded women. He had been since third grade, when Jenny Lipton had moved into town halfway through the year. She was introduced by his teacher, and when she smiled at the class, his hands got sweaty. He shyly brought her dandelions at recess, and she took his hand, pulling him to the swings. He pushed her for as long as she wanted, not caring that he never even had a turn.

This woman though, she was on another level. Her smile made his heart race and when he heard her laugh, he always wanted to hear it again. She also smelled amazing. She sat across from him in class, and every time she moved her hair, he caught a whiff of flowers and clean soap. It drove him wild and sometimes caused his attention to wander from the lecture.

Yes, Jenny Lipton had been his first real crush, but she could not hold a candle to Dana Scully.

“Class, we’re going to stop here for a bit. I want each of you to take out the journals you were to bring and identify the plants of the area. You should have your guide pages with you as well. We’ll be here for about forty five minutes and then we’ll be moving on to the campground,” Professor Morrow said, taking his pack off and setting it on a rock. He was about forty, a hippie with long blond hair and a full beard. He was a kind teacher and cared deeply for the subject he taught. “Break into teams or on your own, whichever you prefer.”

Mulder glanced quickly over at Dana and saw her and Hannah, slip off their backpacks and take out their journals and guide pages. She stretched and rolled her neck as she picked up her things and walked with Hannah into the woods. He took off his backpack, took out his own journal, and headed into the woods behind them.

An hour later, they all met up to collect their packs and move on. Mulder put his things away and put his pack back on, adjusting the straps so it sat better this time. They trudged on for another hour, before arriving at the campsite. A round fire pit sat in the middle of a clearing, thick round tree stumps encircling it.

Everyone sat their bags down and Kyle loudly announced he would make a fire. He walked away to gather some wood and the others began to set up their tents. Mulder had a one man tent, as he had no intention to share one with anyone. He had it set up quickly, and as he pounded the stakes in to secure it, he heard Dana laughing. He looked up to see her and Hannah struggling to get their tent up, laughing as they did. Dana was bent over, clutching her side, and then her head was thrown back as she laughed. Watching her, he missed the stake, and hit his thumb.

“Fuck,” he seethed under his breath, sticking his thumb in his mouth, the pain sharp and throbbing. He glanced up quickly to see if Dana noticed, but she and Hannah were still struggling with their tent and laughing.

Finished with securing his tent, he tossed his backpack inside, intent on setting out his sleeping bag later. He stood up and brushed off his hands, swallowing hard, as he walked closer to the women and cleared his throat. As Dana turned around and looked at him, he was struck again by the blue of her eyes.

“Uhh … would you … do you need a hand?” he stammered, and she smiled at him, making his heart race.

“I think we got it, but thanks, Fox,” she said with another smile.

“Mulder,” he said without thinking, realizing he would not mind his hated name being said by her. She tilted her head and stared at him.

“Really? You go by your last name with everyone? It’s not just a guy thing?” she asked. “Do you really not go by Fox? No one calls you Fox?” Her eyes twinkled and he felt he would let her call him anything, if she kept smiling and looking at him that way.

“Uh … my family, but not really anyone else,” he said, even as his brain screamed at him to shut up and walk away. “Whatever you … either is fine.” He turned and walked away, exceedingly embarrassed, wishing he could disappear.

“Thanks for the offer of help‍ … Mulder,” she called after him, and he turned quickly, her dancing eyes on him, her red hair shining in the sunlight. He nodded and turned around again, walking aimlessly away from them, shaking his head at his idiocy.

He walked around for a while prior to heading back to the campsite, needing time to recover from his own stupidity. He headed over to the fire pit and watched Kyle trying to build a fire. He was doing it all wrong, laying the wood haphazardly as he added kindling under it. Mulder shook his head, stepping closer to show him how to do it correctly, when he heard a voice behind him.

“You’re not doing that properly.” He turned and saw Dana standing there, her hair down and wavy from the braid. She was looking at the fire pit, but cut her eyes at Mulder, causing him to smile slightly. “You need to build it like a chimney so the oxygen can feed through the kindling and the wood -”

“Excuse me, sweetheart,” Kyle said, looking up at her with a sneer. “I don’t need help from you on how to build a fire, okay?” He went back to trying to get the fire burning and Dana stepped closer to him.

“If our warmth and the ability to eat tonight is dependent on you, sweetheart, then I’m going to have to insist that you either build the fire properly, or get out of the way so I can do it,” she said, in a low controlled tone that made Mulder both afraid and highly aroused. Kyle stared up at her and then stood up, towering over her. She did not back down or show any fear, and soon Kyle stormed away, claiming he needed more wood.

Dana glanced over at Mulder and rolled her eyes as she pushed up her sleeves and restructured the fire. She had it lit within minutes, stood up and brushed off her hands. She looked at Mulder with a grin, and he smiled back, nodding at her appreciatively.

“Make sure he doesn’t overload it with wood, okay? I’m going to find Hannah. I wasn’t going to stop and help, but he was being an idiot about it,” she said as she walked away. He grinned and watched her before turning his eyes back to the fire.

Hours later, after everyone had eaten, they were discussing the plant life they had found that day. Kyle sat quietly, still stinging over the fact that a woman, a younger woman at that, had shown him up, The other guys kept razzing him, which he was not taking well.

Mulder sat to the left of Dana, with Hannah on her right. As the others discussed the plant life, he knew they were mistaken with their findings. Not only did he know, but he heard Dana repeatedly muttering, wrong under her breath. He huffed and she looked at him with a grin.

“Well, they are wrong,” she whispered, and he smiled. “We had the guide papers, I don’t know how they could be so mistaken.” She shrugged and he coughed to cover up a laugh as she turned around and watched the fire.

Not long later, everyone headed off to bed, the fire dying, but not out completely. Mulder watched Dana and Hannah walk into their tent as he was going into his own. Laying his sleeping bag out, he changed his clothes, adding an extra zip up hooded sweatshirt to take away the chill.

Getting inside the sleeping bag, he rested his head on his backpack but quickly pushed it aside, finding it too bulky to be used as a pillow. Putting his arms behind his head, he wished the tent had a mesh top so he could see the stars, but he would make do with the sound of the crickets and owls in the trees.

After the day’s activities, he should be tired, exhausted even, but he was wide awake. Sighing, he decided to go sit by the fire for a little while. Putting his boots back on, he opened his tent, stepped out, and zipped it up again, to avoid allowing in any unwanted critters. Hands in his sweatshirt pockets, his head down, he did not notice that he was not the only one with the idea to sit by the fire.

“Oh!” He heard and looked up in surprise. Dana was standing there, poking at the fire with a long stick. “I didn’t wake you, did I? I wasn’t too loud?”

“No, not at all. I … uh … I wasn’t tired, surprisingly, and thought I’d check on the fire. Guess you beat me to it,” he said and she smiled. He walked closer and stood beside her, the fire still burning low and giving off heat.

She added another few small pieces of firewood and stirred at the fire as she sat down on a stump. Mulder sat beside her and they quietly stared at the fire as it began to slightly grow. He glanced at her and then back at the fire.

“So, did the fact that we all went to bed, in the middle of a forest with a fire smoldering, bother you a bit, too?” she asked him quietly, and he laughed softly. “Or were you also a dumb idiot, who forgot to pack an extra sweatshirt, thus needing to seek out the warmth of said fire?”

He turned his head to look at her and realized she was definitely not dressed for the cold night air. She had a long flannel on, but it was absolutely not enough to keep her small body warm. He watched her wrap her arms around herself, and he stood up, already unzipping his sweatshirt.

“Oh no,” she said, putting up her hands. “Please don’t think I was implying I expected you to do that, I was just making conversation. I can’t take your sweatshirt from you. It’s my own fault for forgetting an extra shirt. Please … no.” She shook her head and pushed at the item he offered her. “I can’t.”

“You can,” he said, holding it out to her and staring at her. “It’s an extra. Well, I mean I have two shirts and this long sleeved one as well. I’ll be okay without the sweatshirt. That flannel won’t keep you warm enough. Take it. Please.” He held it out and she finally accepted it, standing up to put it on and zip it up. It was big on her of course, but wearing the flannel under helped it to fit better.

As she pulled her hair from inside it and tossed it back, he was treated to the most wonderful scent of flowers. She kept her head down for a second before raising her eyes to his. “Thank you,” she said quietly, and he nodded at her, seeing the flames from the fire reflecting in her eyes. He smiled and sat back down, as she sighed and did the same.

They sat in silence for a few minutes and watched the fire, when she suddenly stood quietly, and walked to her tent. She did not look back, but stepped inside and zipped it shut. He was left wondering if he had done something wrong, but then he smiled slowly, as he realized she was still wearing his sweatshirt.

He sat by the fire until it burned down low enough to not be a hazard, and then headed to his own tent. Laying down inside the bag once again, he smiled, imagining her sleeping comfortably because of the warmth his sweatshirt provided her. Closing his eyes, he was asleep in minutes.

_______________________

The next morning, Mulder woke with the dawn, dressed, and rebuilt the fire. He shivered as he waited for it to warm up, his eyes flicking towards Dana’s tent, hoping she had been warm enough last night. Stirring the fire, he stood with his hands extended, feeling the warmth beginning to build.

Not long after the fire was burning steadily, others began to emerge from their tents, happily seeking the warmth of the fire. Each person thanked him as they stood around it, warming their hands and backs in turn. A few of the guys started to prepare some peanut butter sandwiches for the group. Brian handed one to Mulder, who took it with a nod.

After nearly everyone had gotten up, Dana and Hannah finally came from their tent, ready for the day. Dana glanced his way and then looked down, walking over to grab a sandwich from Brian. Hannah continued on to speak to Craig, a quiet guy who Mulder actually got along with. Dana stood on the fringe and then came closer to him.

“Your sweatshirt is in the tent. I didn’t want to bring it out in front of everyone,” she said, glancing up at him, her eyes begging him to understand.

“You keep it for tonight, just in case,” he shrugged, and she shook her head. “You can.” He repeated his words from last night to her again and she sighed with a nod.  

“Thank you,” she whispered, and then walked away.

The tents were taken down and packed up as the sun began to rise higher in the sky. They left on a trail and Mulder followed behind Hannah and Dana, listening to their conversation while trying not to appear too creepy. They discussed dating and Dana admitted to Hannah that the last couple of dates she went on was a while ago, with one of the men standing her up.

Mulder scoffed at the stupidity of whoever that man was, and Dana turned around quickly and looked at him. He stopped walking abruptly and stared at her, embarrassed beyond belief. He saw her lips twitch as she turned around and began to walk again. He fell back a few paces, intent on that not happening again.

An hour or so later, they came to a shallow but wide stream they needed to cross. A log had fallen, creating a natural bridge, and they took turns walking across it carefully. Mulder had almost neared the end when his foot slipped and he fell into the stream. He luckily had not broken or sprained anything, but everything he was wearing was thoroughly soaked.

Everyone laughed, including Dana, but she was the only one to come over and help him, as he spluttered and tried to stand up. She reached for his backpack, and he handed it to her, rising to his knees and then his feet.

“Shit,” he muttered, unbuttoning his flannel shirt. He took it off and the one underneath, leaving him in a very wet tank top, cargo shorts, socks, and boots. He glanced up and found that Dana had turned her head, his backpack held in her hand, as it dripped steadily into the stream.

“I’ll take that back now,” he said softly, and she nodded, glancing at him as her eyes quickly moved up and down his body, before she turned and walked away, running her fingers through her long ponytail. He smiled as he watched her, not seeming to notice how wet he truly was.

Up another hill, they came to their camping site. A large fire pit was surrounded by small, single occupancy cabins. Everyone exclaimed at the sight of them, each of them going to check them out. Mulder set his wet pack on the step and walked inside. There was a cot, a small table made from logs, a lantern, and an oval hooked rug on the floor. It would be warmer than the tent, and for that he was relieved.

Stepping out of the room, he began to unpack his bag, shaking his head at the sheer wetness of everything. His clothes inside were soaked, but they would hopefully dry soon. It was warm out and there was still a few hours of sunlight left. He laid out his clothes and reached for his sleeping bag, thankfully finding it still dry.

He put it on the cot and checked the rest of his things. His snacks and other first aid items were okay, but his notebook was wet, his inked words running together. Shaking his head, he set it down. It would be easy to redo the work, he had it memorized. Taking out his spare shoes, a pair of old flip flops, he took off his wet boots and socks, again shaking his head.

Picking up his clothes, he went to find a place to hang them to dry while the sun was still shining. His shoes … well they would hopefully dry, but he doubted it would happen by the time they journeyed back to their cars tomorrow morning.

Clothes laid out in the sun on a bush, he walked back to the fire pit where everyone had gathered. He glanced down at the empty pit, and then looked up, catching Dana’s eye, as he raised his eyebrows. She smiled and covered her mouth as she laughed softly. He grinned as he looked toward Professor Morrow.

“All right! Congratulations on making it here unscathed, well, most of us anyway,” he said, with a glance toward Mulder and everyone laughed. He shook his head and smiled. “Tonight, as well as food that we’ve brought, we’ll be gathering edible plants to add to our meal. Berries, plants, whatever you find that you’re sure is edible. So be double, even triple sure that you’re correct. We don’t want to poison our friends.” Everyone laughed again and soon headed off, each one with a container to collect items.

Mulder found himself near Dana as they walked into the woods. He could hear her humming and he smiled, happy she was enjoying herself. They spread out, foraging the bushes for food.

“How can you just walk away from me? When all I can do is watch you leave?” He heard, and turned his head to see Dana singing quietly as she cleaned a bush of its berries. “So take a look at me now, well there's just an empty space. And there's nothing left here to remind me, just the memory of your face …” She looked up and saw him watching her and she grinned.

“I’m a little obsessed with Phil Collins right now. Sorry to expose you to my horrible singing voice,” she said, with a laugh. He shook his head and continued gathering items.

“It’s not horrible,” he told her, his eyes downcast.

“Liar,” she called, and he looked up to see her smiling. He looked back down, smiling as he continued his work.

Fire warm and food eaten, even the items they had all collected, of which Mulder and Dana had brought in the most, everyone sat around that night laughing and talking about many things. Mulder saw Hannah speaking to Craig once again, a huge smile on his face.

Mulder glanced at Dana as she put another log onto the fire, debating whether to speak to her. As he was contemplating it, she walked over to him, standing close and crossing her arms. She glanced at him and smiled and he smiled back.

“So, we’re obviously the smartest ones in class, we definitely need to stick together from now on.” She shrugged and he laughed. They both looked at the fire and were quiet, Mulder constantly feeling tongue tied around her.

“So you —” he started to say, but was cut off by the professor telling them all to head to bed, warning of rising early in the morning. Mulder glanced at Dana again, but she was busy smothering tonight’s fire, the area they were in more heavily wooded.

“Can’t take any chances,” she said, and he began to help her. Nodding her thanks, she caught his eye, and headed to her little cabin.

Making sure the fire was completely out, he took out his flashlight, and gathered all his items from the nearby bushes he had laid them on earlier. Finding them to be relatively dry, he walked into his cabin, took off his shoes, and changed his clothes. He lit the lantern on the small table and laid down on his cot.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. A knock sounded at his door and he sat up in surprise, his brow furrowing. Standing up and crossing to the door, he opened it to find Dana standing there, a flashlight in her hand, her long hair down, his borrowed sweatshirt pulled tightly around her, and a worried expression on her face.

“Hi,” he said simply, his surprise undoubtedly evident.

“I need you to look at something. Please,” her voice shaky and scared.

“Uhh … come in,” he told her, stepping aside to let her inside before he closed the door. She hurried past him and stood in the middle of the small room in his large sweatshirt, a pair of shorts, and her boots.

“I was changing my clothes and … I felt something, on my back. It was itchy earlier, but now it feels worse. I can’t see it and I need to know what it is. Can you look at it, please?” she stared at him and he nodded. She turned around, moved her hair, and dropped his sweatshirt down past her butt. His breath caught and he froze in place.

She was not wearing anything under the sweatshirt, clearly whatever she found, had scared her badly enough to forego extra clothing as she hurried to his room.

“Mulder? Fox? What is it?” Her worried voice snapped him into action, and he reached for the lantern, turning it up to see her back better. Stepping closer to her, he held the lantern as he knelt down. “It’s down on my lower back.”

As soon as he was close enough, he saw it- an angry looking rash covering a good sized area of her lower back. He touched it gently and she hissed and then she groaned.

“Sorry,” he said, feeling the heat even without touching it again. “Stay like that for a second.” He turned around and grabbed his backpack, rummaging around until he found the container of salve he had brought with him. “Okay, this might hurt a little bit.”

“What?” she asked, but he did not reply, instead taking two fingerfuls of the salve, and gently rubbing it across her back. “Oh my God, what is that? Mmmm, oh Mulder, that stings … ohhhh … no it feels good. What is it?” He rubbed in the salve and smiled as he listened to her finding relief from the comfort it provided.

Wiping his hands, he put the lid on the salve and stood up. He brought his sweatshirt back up her body and placed it on her shoulders. She grabbed at it and zipped it up. Letting her hair fall, she put her hands in the pockets of the sweatshirt and turned around, looking up at him.

“Seriously, what is that? And what’s on my back?” she asked, reaching for the container in his hands.

“It’s a rash, probably from a plant you touched unknowingly,” he told her, reaching in his bag again, taking out a bottle of aspirin and handing two of them to her. “It’s pretty hot and inflamed; this will help it feel better.” He handed her water from a canteen bottle he had and she took the medicine, just as a huge crack of thunder sounded, causing her to jump. A second later, rain began to fall, hard, on the tiny cabin.

“Whoa,” they said simultaneously, looking up as the rain pelted the roof from above. He looked back down at her and turned to the door, opening it and looking outside. She stepped closer to him and they watched as the rain obscured their vision beyond anything not directly in front of them.

“I … “ she started, and then stopped.

“No, you can’t,” he finished for her, knowing she was going to suggest she make a run for it. “You’d be soaked through, that salve will wash off, and you’d be in pain. Best to stay here, at least until it lets up a bit.” He closed the door and turned to find her right behind him, and his mouth went dry. The one person who seemed to short circuit his brain was now going to be sitting alone with him in a small room during a rainstorm, for the night possibly.

Her expression was unreadable as her eyes seemed to search his face. He waited until she nodded in agreement and stepped over to the bed, sat down, and took off her boots. She looked at him and he gave her a small smile as he picked up the lantern off the floor, set it on the little table after turning it down a bit, and then sat on the floor facing her, his back against the wall. They were both quiet as they listened to the heavy fall of the rain on the roof, thunder rumbling and then cracking loudly. He saw her jump again and he smiled slightly. She obviously did not like thunder.

“Tell me a story,” she said, just loud enough for him to hear her above the deluge of rain, as though she was not sure if she should be asking for something like that.

“A story? About what?” he asked, looking at her in surprise. She shrugged, looking a little embarrassed.

“I don’t know, anything, I’m not picky,” she said. “I don’t really like thunder and I thought maybe a story might take my mind off it. You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” She shrugged again, looking down and touching at her back lightly over his sweatshirt. She hissed and closed her eyes.

He watched her for a second, thinking of stories that would not only interest her, but help to loosen his tongue. Leaning his head back, he knew she would not be looking for some silly fairy tale to be retold to her, and so he thought back to the science fiction and weird stories he loved to read and know more about, until he had a perfect one.

“Have you ever heard the story of the star-crossed lovers, Maurice and Lyda?” he asked, lifting his head and watching her, hoping she would say no, as he knew this story by heart. He could recite it from memory, thus making it easier to speak to her.

“The only star-crossed lovers I know of are Romeo and Juliet,” she said, shifting on the cot. He smiled and nodded as that was the case with most people.

Clearing his throat, he began his story. “Christmas, 1917, it was a time of dark, dark despair. American soldiers were dying at an ungodly rate in a war-torn Europe, while at home, a deadly strain of the flu virus attacked young and old alike,” he began, and then he forgot about her as he closed his eyes, lost in his own story. “Tragedy was a visitor on every doorstep while a creeping hopelessness set in with every man, woman. and child. It was a time of dark, dark despair.”

“You said that already,” she said, with a smirk, and he opened his eyes to find her now lying on her side facing him, leaning on her elbow, one eyebrow raised. He grinned and then chuckled.

“But,” he continued, “at 1501 Larkspur Lane, for a pair of star-crossed lovers, tragedy came not from war or pestilence, not by the boot heel or the bombardier, but by their own innocent hand.” He stared at her and waited, seeing if he could get that skeptical eyebrow to go down.

“Go on,” she said, both eyebrows going up, and he knew he had piqued her interest.

“His name was Maurice. He was a ... a brooding, but heroic young man, beloved of Lyda, a sublime beauty with a light that seemed to follow her wherever she went,” he said, waving his hands around slowly, and she laughed softly. “They were likened to two angels descended from heaven whom the gods could not protect from the horrors being visited upon this cold, grey earth.” Again he paused and stared at her, waiting to see what she would say.

“And what happened to them?”

“Well, according to legend, driven by a tragic fear of separation, they forged a lovers' pact so that they might spend eternity together and not spend one precious Christmas apart,” he said with a shrug and a half smile, his tongue loosened now from a story he had always enjoyed.

“Wait. They killed themselves?” she asked, frowning as she stared at him.

“Yeah, and supposedly their ghosts return to haunt that house every Christmas Eve,” he said, and then shivered. “I just gave myself the chills.” He stared at her with a grin and she frowned with a smile. “What?”

“Do you really believe that story?”

“I don’t know. Yeah. I mean, it’s kind of hard not to believe it when it —”

“Sounds so believable?” she cut across him, with a tone of disbelief.

“You don’t believe in ghosts?”

“Does that surprise you?”

“Well … yeah, a little. I thought everybody believed in ghosts,” he said, with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Like that slimy one in Ghostbusters?” she teased him and he shook his head.

“No, not like Ghostbusters. What a joke that movie was at portraying ghosts. They are benevolent entities … well, mostly. I have read stories of places where ghosts have done horrible things and people —” He stopped talking as he looked at the barely contained grin on her face. It spread as she tried to stop it and he saw a dimple in her cheek.

God, he was in so much trouble …

“You believe it all, don’t you?” she asked, with a huge grin.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked back, shrugging his shoulders. “I haven’t seen it disproved, so …” He shrugged again and she laughed as she shook her head. She laid down on her back, and he looked at her profile.

So much trouble …

“Umm … I should check your back again, just to be sure the salve is helping,” he said, getting up and picking up the container again as he knelt down beside the bed. She looked up at him, her eyes so blue, he knew that if she asked him to do anything, no matter how questionable, he would. “You need to turn over.”

She nodded and did as he asked. He lifted his sweatshirt over her butt and up just enough to expose her back. It was looking better already and felt cooler than earlier. Still, he would apply another layer and have her lay on her stomach for a while, let it soak in better.

“It looks better, not completely gone of course, but better than earlier. I’d say you had an allergic reaction to something. Obviously not poison oak, you would’ve been smart enough to avoid that, but at least it’s topical and nothing serious,” he said as he slowly put more salve on, both to make sure it was applied well, and because her skin was so soft, he wanted to touch it forever. She had a freckle just above the rash and he had an overwhelming desire to bend forward and kiss it.

“What is that stuff?” she asked again, her voice muffled in her arms, hissing and then moaning, as he applied it.

“It’s a homemade salve my mom has made for years. My sister and I were always getting scrapes and rashes as children and so she made this natural stuff because my sister cried with the stuff from the pharmacy,” he told her, rubbing slow circles across her back.

“What were you two doing to meet such catastrophes?”

“Well, we grew up in Chilmark, and spent a lot of time outdoors. Climbing trees, baseball games, races, playing widespread games of hide-and-seek. Inevitably, one of us would come down with some ailment and so my mother kept this on hand at all times. She called it the “Super Salve,” as we were both into superheroes then. Plus, it works really well, so …” He smiled as he thought of those days spent outside, no care for anything but being home on time for dinner. He finished applying the salve and closed the container. “Stay like that for a few minutes and let it really set in, it will help a lot.” He wiped his hands on the shirt he had worn earlier and leaned against the bed.

He heard her turn her head and he looked at her over his shoulder. “You’re a Vineyard boy, huh? And here I thought you were all right,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her face.

He laughed and she turned her head back, sighing as she did. “Well, whatever she puts in that, it’s like magic. Please tell your mother that I can't thank her enough. It stings for a second, but then … ohhhh …” she said in a low voice, and he was glad she had turned her head away. Her moan shot straight to his groin and he was horrified at its betrayal in such tight quarters as the rain fell down, preventing any chance of escape.

“Tell me more about your family,” she said and he smiled, thankful for the distraction.

“I have a sister, she’s twenty-one. Parents still married, still live in Chilmark. My sister is living in Europe with some friends right now, for “life experience” as she calls it,” he said, looking down at the floor.

“A single trip to Amsterdam ought to take care of that for her,” she said, and he laughed.

“You seem awfully ... normal for growing up on the Vineyard, if you don’t mind me saying,” she said, once again turning to look at him. He raised his eyebrows at her and she smiled.

“What exactly are you implying, Dana?” he asked with a smile. She stared at him, her face serious and then she smiled softly.

“I think that’s the first time I've ever heard you say my name,” she said quietly. “In this class or the last one we had together.” He stared at her and he knew she was correct. He had been nervous to speak to her, in both classes, and now he was seeing how ridiculous that was to do. Besides being smart and beautiful, she was easy to talk to, and funny.

“Yeah, I … uh … I’m not really a … I don’t hang out with many people and I don’t really engage in many conversations,” he said, and she nodded.

“I don’t like it.” She shook her head and he frowned. “You saying that name, I mean. I just think that if you insist on being called Mulder, you should call me … Scully.” She shrugged and he stared at her, trying to decide if she was teasing him. She smiled and he knew she meant it.

“Okay … Scully,” he said, and she grinned wider. He smiled back and she nodded.

“Scully. I like it.” She smiled, and he cleared his throat, looking down at the floor. “And to answer your question, Mulder, I wasn’t really implying anything about Vineyard people. I was just teasing.”

“I know … Scully,” he said, looking up at her and she smiled at him again. “I know what people think about those of us on the Vineyard and I understand. My family does belong to a country club, I went to cotillions when I was younger, and my sister was even a debutante, but only because my mother insisted on it. My sister didn’t want to do it, and in fact, the night of the ball, she left about halfway through, changed out of her ridiculous dress and gloves, and came back in jeans, a Rolling Stones t-shirt, and black Converse high tops. My mother was nearly apoplectic, but my sister just shrugged and kept dancing.”

“I like her. She sounds like someone I’d like to know,” Dana laughed, and he nodded and smiled. Samantha was definitely someone he could see her befriending.

“What about your family?” he asked, and she shook her head, moving to lay on her side, facing him, but keeping his sweatshirt up above her rash.

“I’m not terribly interesting,” she said, waving him away. He stared at her as she licked her lips, biting the bottom one, and he wished he could taste them. “My parents are married, my father is in the Navy. We’ve lived in a lot of places, but have been here for the longest length of time. My older brother is also in the Navy and he’s stationed in Germany. My younger brother is starting college this coming year. I have an older sister, but I don’t really know where she is right now. She’s kind of flighty and the last time I heard from her, she was in Colorado. I think she was anyway. She’s always on the move, ‘following the wind and the sun,’ she says.” She paused and sighed. He looked at her again and she shook her head.

“What?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed, looking down. “I’m still not completely sure what I want to do with my life. I have always loved science and pursuing answers that are not readily available. But I know that’s not a field most women enter into, as if it’s odd a woman would find science interesting.”

“Pssh!” Mulder said forcefully. “It’s incredibly hot and sexy when women are interested in science.” Realizing what he said, his face became flushed, and he fell silent as he chanced a glance at her. She smiled, her own cheeks pink, as she looked down. Thunder cracked again and this time he jumped.

They were quiet for a few minutes and she sighed again. “I just wish that I was more like my sister sometimes. She’s not afraid to do anything. To just up and leave, follow her passion, live in a cabin with some guy she just met and make jewelry to sell at swap meets. She’s flighty, yes, but she’s also passionate and caring, and doesn’t care how she’s perceived. She’s ballsy and tough, despite her hippie outward appearance.” She fell silent and he looked at her, wanting to tell her she was all of that and more, but he worried it would scare her, so he tried a different tactic.

“Every person is given the personality that’s right for them,” he said, looking at the wall across the room. “We see in others what we imagine we are lacking, and yet it’s there, just perhaps not right at the surface. Every person is exactly who they are meant to be.”

“Wow, you and my sister would get along really well,” she told him with a quiet laugh. “Dare I say, even make a good couple.”

“Hmm, what’s her stance on science?” he asked, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

“The whole idea of it?” she laughed. “I wouldn’t say she’s against it, but she’s more prone to believe in the healing power of crystals than modern medicine.”

“Oh, well, then I'm sorry, I’m gonna have to pass. A firm grasp in the belief of science is high on my list. I’d put it at top five, easily,” he said, turning his head to find her staring at him. She did not blink for a few seconds, holding his stare, until thunder cracked again, and she jumped.

“It’s late,” he said quietly. “You should try to get some sleep. Is your back feeling better?” She nodded, staring at him again, as she pulled his sweatshirt down and covered her back. She got inside the sleeping bag, glanced at him once more, and then turned toward the wall.

“Good night, Mulder,” she said softly.

“Good night … Scully,” he replied with a smile, shifting until he was lying on his back on the floor, his arm behind his head, listening to the rain falling unrelentingly on the roof. A few minutes later, he heard her soft breathing and he smiled again, as he himself fell asleep.

________________

Mulder woke early, wanting to be sure Dana was out of his cabin and back in her own, before anyone else was up and about. No need for anyone to suspect anything, especially as it pertained to her.

She walked to her cabin, slipping in the mud a bit, as she arrived at her door. She turned and looked at him as she walked inside, an odd expression on her face. He hoped it was not one of regret or worry over what they had shared last night. Then just as the door was about to close, she poked her head out and smiled at him, and his heart pounded wildly against his rib cage.

The campsite was a muddy wet mess that morning. No chance for the warmth of a fire, as the fire pit was full of water, and every piece of wood in the forest was wet regardless.

Once everyone was up, and that discovery was made, the grumbling began. Foul moods abounded, but Mulder was not fazed by any of them. He could not stop grinning, remembering Dana’s laugh and the beautiful blue of her eyes.

He saw her speaking to Professor Morrow, showing him her back, though not in the same manner she had to him last night. He could not hear them speaking, but the professor glanced his way and nodded, telling him without words that he had done the right thing.

Bags packed and everything ready, they began the long hike back down. The weather made it harder, but they were meant to be back that day, so everyone kept a steady pace. As the car park came into view, Kyle slipped and fell, much to everyone’s amusement. Covered in mud, he swore and yelled, trying to wipe himself clean, and failing.

Gathering by all the cars, Professor Morrow reminded them to finish their workbooks and to write a 2,000 word essay about the weekend and what they experienced. Some groaned and others grinned. Mulder saw Dana smile softly and he wondered what she was thinking about.

People began to leave and soon it was just a few of them. Dana walked over to him, his sweatshirt in her hands, and a smile on her face. He stared at her, feeling Hannah’s eyes on them, making him feel awkward.

“Thank you for the use of your sweatshirt, Fox … Mulder.” She handed it to him and he took it, laying it over his arm.

“You’re welcome, Dana … Scully,” he said and she grinned. They stared at each other, and the desire to kiss her was stronger than anything he had ever felt. Her eyes flicked to his lips and his mouth went dry. Looking back into his eyes, they continued to stand there, staring at one another.

“Dana! Come on, let’s go!” Hannah called from across the car park, causing Mulder to jump, and Dana to sigh.

“Okay,” she called back, looking at her over her shoulder. She looked back at Mulder and smiled sadly. “See you in class.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, feeling deflated and low. “See you in class.” She stared at him, waiting, and he stepped back with his head down. He heard her sigh again and then the crunch of her boots on the gravel of the car park.

Looking up, he watched them drive away and felt like a complete fool. “You are such an idiot. So stupid.” He threw his backpack in the backseat and then got in the car, heading for his little apartment off campus, berating himself the whole way, knowing he had completely missed his chance.

Arriving home, he went around back and sat on his porch, dumping out his backpack, making sure no little creatures had hitched a ride home. He looked through everything, made piles of things to put away and to be washed. He looked at his sweatshirt and shook his head. Dana’s naked body had been inside it, but he still needed to wash it.

Taking off everything but his undershirt and shorts, he walked barefoot to the front door and unlocked it. Coming through his small one bedroom apartment, he opened the back door and began to bring things inside. Once that was done, he stripped, tossing his clothes outside, and took a shower.

Changed and feeling better physically, but still like an idiot, he scooped up his pile of clothes from outside, grabbed the laundry soap and some quarters, and headed to the laundry room. He opened the lid, added the quarters, and started to put his clothes inside. Taking the time to go through his pockets, he found a rock and some small pieces of dried leaves, which he threw away.

His sweatshirt was last, and he sighed as he reached inside the pockets, and frowned as he touched something. Taking it out, he saw it was a folded piece of paper. Opening it, he grinned and then laughed as he read the words written on the page.

How could you just let me walk away? Just let me leave without a trace?

Scully

(301) 555-0134

P.S. I’m working on those hidden personality traits.

He threw the sweatshirt in the wash, dumped in the soap, closed the lid, pushed in the quarter tray, and ran upstairs. Slamming the door, he grabbed the phone and dialed her number. His heart pounding, breath ragged, he waited. Two rings and then her voice made him stop moving.

“Scully.”

“Hey, Scully, it’s me.” He grinned as he moved again and walked to the couch, flopping down on it.

“Well, it’s about damn time, Mulder,” she teased.

“I’m inclined to agree.” He laughed, sitting forward and shaking his head. She joined his laughter and then they fell silent. His heart began pounding, but if she had been braver than usual, then he could be too. “I … I wanted to kiss you.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “Me, too.” The honesty they expressed, left him tongue tied once again. Just hearing her voice in his ear made his body feel warm.

“So, Mulder … do you suppose that house on Larkspur Lane is haunted only on Christmas? Surely it could do with a scientific investigation, just to see,” she said, and he could hear her smile. He sat back with a grin, ready to discuss haunted houses, or any other damn thing she wanted.

For the next ten minutes, an hour, or for the rest of his life.

[elfroot-and-stars]

The Weight Of Guilt (MReyder)

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               Reyes was so used to Scott Ryder being a clumsy idiot with an infectious laugh that he sometimes forgot how ruthless Scott could be.

               An exile knelt on the ground, hands in the air and anger on his face. Scott had a gun pointed at him, eyes trained on his target.

               “Cora?” he said, not taking his gaze away from the exile.

               “Fine,” she said as she applied medi-gel to where the exile had stabbed her in the arm.

               Scott fired a shot from his pistol into the wall next to the exile’s head. The exile winced and glared harder.

               “Where’d your boss go?” Scott demanded.

               The exile spit on Scott’s foot. Scott cracked the pistol against his jaw.

               Reyes watched with vague interest. He’d joined Scott and Cora in hunting down a band of exiles who’d been causing trouble around Kadara. While the exiles hadn’t been causing him too much trouble, he’d still wanted to take care of them before they became his headache too.

               Supposedly, they’d been working to supply information on Initiative personnel to the Roekaar so the Roekaar would take them out. A few bodies had turned up, and the Pathfinder and his crew were ready to shut down the deadly alliance by any means necessary.

               Scott had come storming into Reyes’ room in Tartarus a few nights earlier, angry but trying not to lash out at Reyes because of it. They’d used Reyes’ connections and SAM to determine the location of the leader of this band of exiles, and had set out to hunt him down.

               But his men had covered for him so he could escape, and now this sole survivor was their only hope of finding his location. Reyes knew Scott was desperate and determined, a combination that made him vicious.

               The exile spit blood on the ground and gave a savage grin. “You can kill me, but it won’t stop our plans. Fuck you Nexus types.”

               Scott grabbed the man’s wrist and slammed it against the ground, pressing his gun against two of the man’s fingers. “I don’t need to kill you. I have other ideas.”

               Reyes wondered what kind of soldier Scott had been before he had so many lives in his hands.

               Cora didn’t look pleased at the turn of events, but she clearly understood what was at stake, and didn’t stop Scott. Reyes had used brutal methods himself, and he kept his lips firmly shut and watched.

               “Cora, check their terminals. See if they left anything behind,” Scott said, tightening his finger against the trigger of his gun. “If there’s nothing to take from there, we’ll try my method.”

               “You’re just a child. You don’t scare me,” the exile snarled.

               “I don’t need to scare you to blow your fingers off,” Scott said. “I just need to pull the trigger.”

               “Reyes, check this,” Cora said, tossing him a datapad.

               He caught it and began to scroll through it, trying to watch Scott out of the corner of his eye to make sure the exile didn’t try anything. The man was right; Scott was much younger and much less muscular than him. But Scott was also the one with the loaded weapon.

               The man was glaring at Cora, but he shifted that gaze to Reyes, who promptly ignored it by turning his eyes to the datapad. It was only when he peeked back that he saw it.

               The man gave a sudden fierce twist of his wrist, yanking his hand away just as the gun fired, letting out a harsh cry as part of his finger was lost in the shot. He didn’t slow though, just used his momentum to slam Scott to the ground and wrestle the pistol away from him.

               Reyes chucked the datapad at his head, which was enough to briefly get his attention. Reyes threw himself into the man, hearing the gun go off and just praying it missed Scott.

               Reyes couldn’t grab his own gun and keep the pistol from blowing his brains out, so he focused on trying to keep the gun pointed at anything but him. He dropped low suddenly, sliding his pistol into his hand as another shot missed him, trying to aim at the man’s stomach.

               But another shot rang out and Reyes cried out, falling to the ground at the pain in his leg, his own gun falling from his hands. The man swung the pistol around to point at Reyes’ head, but let out a startled yell as he was lifted off his feet and flung across the room, crashing into the far wall hard enough to dent it. He slumped to the ground and Cora rushed forward, disarming him and slamming his head against the ground to make sure he was really out.

               “Reyes!”

               Scott dropped next to him, hands holding his shoulders and panic on his face. There was blood on his shoulder, but his focus was on Reyes.

               “Bastard shot my leg,” Reyes managed, gritting his teeth. “Shit, Scott, I’m done going on missions with you. One of us always ends up like this.”

               Scott dragged one of Reyes’ arms around his shoulder and helped him stand. Reyes kept his weight on his good leg, and carefully tested his injured one.

               “It’ll be fine,” he said, hissing in pain as he tried to walk on it. “Not right now it won’t. But in a few days.”

               Scott lifted his omni-tool towards his face. “Tempest, things went south on our end. Cora has one of the exiles. Come extract them and we’ll question him when he wakes up.”

               “Ryder, you’re coming too,” Cora said sternly.

               “I need to get Reyes back to the Port,” Scott argued.

               “Lexi should look at his wound,” Cora argued right back, which surprised Reyes because he’d always been pretty sure she hated him the most.

               Scott hesitated before nodding. “Alright. That good with you, Reyes?”

               “You’re making a big fuss over nothing, Ryder,” Reyes said. “I’ve been shot before, you know. I’ll be fine.”

               “Just let Lexi look at it,” Scott said, and he suddenly looked tired. “Just for once, don’t be stubborn.”

               “You’re one to talk,” Reyes said, but let Scott help him outside. It was a few minutes before the Tempest landed and they boarded, Cora hauling the exile and passing him off to Vetra.

               The three made their way down to Lexi. Scott sat Reyes down, taking a seat next to him as Lexi examined Cora’s arm, wrapping it and sending her out of the room.

               “He got shot in the leg,” Scott said.

               Lexi knelt down and started to roll up Reyes’ pant leg. Reyes winced and lightly kicked her away.

               “I have more pants. Just…cut that off,” Reyes said. His leg was throbbing, but he wanted to keep his composure as much as possible.

               “Of course,” Lexi said, and cut his pants around his shin, starting just above where the blood soaked his pant leg. The material fell to the floor, revealing a bloodied mess of flesh.

               “It looks worse than it is,” Lexi said after a few minutes of examining his leg.

               Scott’s shoulders relaxed and he put a hand on Reyes’ lower back. Reyes clenched his fists as Lexi began to clean and dress the wound.

               “It’s probably best if you stay here for the night. I’ll change the bandages in the morning and then you can go back to the Port,” Lexi said.

               Reyes was perfectly capable of changing his own bandages, but he knew it was probably best if he stayed. Scott seemed tense, and Lexi kept darting her gaze to him as she spoke to Reyes.

               “If only I had a place to sleep on the Tempest…” Reyes said, grinning as his words trailed off.

               Scott didn’t look amused, but he helped Reyes up and tried to play along. “I think I might know a place.”

               They left, taking the short walk to Scott’s room. Reyes was still limping, but he didn’t need to rely on Scott not to fall, which was good for his dignity.

               Once they were in Scott’s room, Reyes sat on his bed, examining his wrapped leg. His pants looked awkward with the way they were cut, but he’d worry about that later.

               “Will you quit pouting? I didn’t think there was an expression that looked bad on you, but you’ve proved me wrong,” Reyes said.

               “It’s not funny, Reyes!” Scott said, his voice angry and frustrated. “You got shot because I was incompetent.”

               “I got shot because an exile aimed a gun at me and pulled the trigger,” Reyes said, dragging himself to his feet and going over to Scott. He wrapped his arms around the Pathfinder’s waist and rested his chin on Scott’s shoulder. “You didn’t have her look at your shoulder.” Scott’s other shoulder had blood drying on it, but Scott waved that away.

               “I just got grazed. The bleeding’s already stopped,” he said, pulling Reyes’ hands off so he could pace again. He raked his hands through his hair. “You could’ve been killed. You would’ve been if I wasn’t a biotic.”

               “Well, good thing you’re a biotic,” Reyes said.

               “Reyes!” Scott finally turned to face him, gripping Reyes’ shoulders. “I almost got you killed!”

               Reyes realized the weight of the guilt Scott felt, and his easy going mood disappeared. He looked Scott in the eyes, expression serious.

               “You did not almost get me killed. You were surprised and overpowered. Cora and I weren’t paying attention,” Reyes said. He reached out, cupping Scott’s cheek in his palm. “Scott, don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself every time something goes wrong or someone gets hurt.”

               “How can I not?” Scott demanded. “I dragged you into this. I brought you along. And I let my guard down enough for that exile to take my gun and shoot you with it.”

               “I am fine,” Reyes assured. “We all are. That exile? Not so much. I think you shot off his middle finger, so at least he can’t flip you off when you go question him.”

               “This isn’t funny,” Scott said, his grip on Reyes’ shoulders tightening. “I’m the Pathfinder. I need to do better. I need to…”

               “Protect me?” Reyes raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been protecting myself just fine this whole time.”

               He pulled Scott close, hugging the other man to his body. He knew what it felt like to take all that guilt on yourself. When you were the leader, you felt every injury, every death, every cut and bruise was on you.

               “Stop blaming yourself. It’s over, it was no one’s fault, and I’m fine,” Reyes said firmly.

               Scott looked troubled when he pulled away, but he leaned forward and kissed Reyes. Reyes let the grin come back to his face.

               “The biggest tragedy in all this is my pants,” he said.

               That earned a weak smile from Scott. “You do look pretty stupid right now.”

               “Guess I’ll just have to take them off,” Reyes said casually.

               “Guess so,” Scott said. He hesitated before kissing Reyes again. “You’re okay?”

               “A little sore considering I got shot in the leg at point-blank range, but I’ll be fine,” Reyes said, his voice teasing. “Maybe you could distract me from the pain.”

               “That, I can do,” Scott said, pulling Reyes close to him.

               As they deepened their kisses, Reyes hoped Scott wouldn’t keep blaming himself when things went wrong. Guilt was inevitable in a role like his, but Reyes would do whatever he could to make sure Scott didn’t drown in it.

[littlelovelymemes]

✰  —  —  *  PARKS & RECREATION SENTENCE STARTERS

‘  i tried to make ramen in the coffee pot and i broke everything.  ’ ‘  i typed your symptoms into the thing up here and it says you could have network connectivity problems.  ’ ‘  there’s only one thing i hate more than lying: skim milk, which is water that’s lying about being milk.  ’ ‘  don’t be such a baby. i cooked you some bacon for a trail snack.  ’ ‘  i really only listen to german death reggae and halloween sound effects records from the 1950s.  ’ ‘  whenever she asks me for the latin names of any of our plants, i just give her the names of rappers.  ’ ‘  i once forgot to brush my teeth for five weeks.  ’ ‘  i didn’t actually sell my last car, i just forgot where i parked it.  ’ ‘  i don’t know who al gore is and at this point i’m too afraid to ask.  ’ ‘  when they say 2% milk, i don’t know what they other 98% is.  ’ ‘  i’ve only slept nine hours over the past four days so i’m right on the verge of a nervous breakdown.  ’ ‘  upon my death, all of my belongings shall transfer to the man or animal who has killed me.  ’ ‘  since i am not a rabbit, no, i do not want a salad.  ’ ‘  you’re like an angel with no wings.  ’ ‘  oh my god you have to stop using the word ‘nipple.’  ’ ‘  you’re right, i know. i have to be a grown up... but it’s so hard!  ’ ‘  i was reading an encyclopedia and i tripped or ‘fell over’ and hit my head. or ‘brain helmet.’  ’ ‘  oh my god, your boobs are dead.  ’ ‘  i have a medical condition, alright! it’s called caring too much and it’s incurable!  ’ ‘  he put all my records into this rectangle! the songs just play one right after the other! this is an excellent rectangle!  ’ ‘  if i keep my body moving and my mind occupied at all times, i will avoid falling into a bottomless pit of despair.  ’ ‘  guys love it when you can show them you’re better than they are at something they love.  ’ ‘  jogging is the worst. i mean, i know it keeps you healthy, but god, at what cost?  ’ ‘  i have done nothing wrong, ever, in my life.  ’ ‘  i know this and i love you.  ’ ‘  that’s too much responsibility. i gotta find a way out of this.  ’ ‘  you are a wonderful person. your friendship means a lot to me and you look very beautiful.  ’ ‘  i was kind of getting sick of listening to them talk about their relationship, but then i remembered that alcohol existed.  ’ ‘  i got stung once and i’m immune. go ahead and sting me, bees! it does nothing!  ’ ‘  i’m not afraid of cops! i have no reason to be. i never break any laws, ever... because i’m deathly afraid of cops.  ’ ‘  i’m fine. it’s just that life is pointless and nothing matters and i’m always tired.  ’ ‘  there will be alcohol there, so i will go as well.  ’ ‘  i can’t go because i don’t want to.  ’ ‘  i’m just gonna stay angry, i find that relaxes me!  ’ ‘  i don’t want to seem overdramatic, but i don’t really care what happens here.  ’ ‘  i’m just gonna leave early and go home.  ’ ‘  if any of you need anything at all, too bad.  ’ ‘  you have never been neutral on anything in your life. you have an opinion on pockets.  ’ ‘  dance up on me!  ’ ‘  i have an idea, it’s very uncool. it’s not illegal, technically. but it is a dick move.  ’ ‘  one time my refrigerator stopped working. i didn’t know what to do. i just moved.  ’ ‘  you’re stupid and you’re drunk and you’re stupid.  ’ ‘  you don’t even know one thing. i didn’t even say one thing and then she asked me the whole thing and i didn’t even do it once.  ’ ‘  i’m like an elephant, okay? if i walk into a room, it’s like, ‘oh he’s in there.’  ’ ‘  bababooey.  ’ ‘  mac and cheese pizza?! you’re making that?!  ’ ‘  i was dying earlier today. and then i died. now i’m dead.  ’ ‘  the only thing i will be waving is your decapitated head on a stick in front of your weeping mother!  ’ ‘  i don’t want to be overdramatic, but today felt like 100 years in hell and the absolute worst day of my life.  ’ ‘  i have been kind of tense lately. just thinking about the new star wars sequel.  ’ ‘  it does look sad. kind of. sorry for stepping on you, floor.  ’ ‘  if you rearrange the letters of peru, you can spell europe.  ’ ‘  you’re as guilty as you are sexy.  ’ ‘  this maze is like a maze.  ’ ‘  sometimes when i blow my nose, i get a boner. i don’t know why. it just happens.  ’ ‘  so i feel like you were mad at me yesterday and i don’t know why so i made a list of everything i did and i’m gonna try not to do any of them again.  ’ ‘  no, i’m not crying, okay? i’m allergic to jerks!  ’ ‘  i don’t even have time to tell you how wrong you are... actually, it’s going to bug me if i don’t.  ’ ‘  with all due respect, you’re a major dick.  ’ ‘  the calzones... betrayed me?  ’ ‘  who hasn’t had gay thoughts?  ’ ‘  do you think a depressed person could make this? no!  ’ ‘  i like your energy. what do you say you and i ride go-karts later?  ’ ‘  three words: treat. yo. self.  ’ ‘  treat yo self. it’s the best day of the year!  ’ ‘  i’ll tell you what. here’s the deal. if you get fired, i’ll quit, and we’ll leave together. i’m serious! move to a new city, change our names... burn our fingertips off with acid... swap faces... if we have to.  ’ ‘  monsters don’t have souls? uh, have you seen monsters inc?  ’ ‘  i make my money the old fashioned way: i got run over by a lexus.  ’ ‘  i took this thing called ‘zapvigil’ which apparently is what israeli fighter pilots use to stay awake so... right now it looks like i’m talking to a giant crab. stay away from me crab!  ’ ‘  well, you suck at being polite, sir.  ’ ‘  at one point, for no reason, i just took off my shoes and held them in my hand.  ’ ‘  three, two, one, and my shift’s over... what the fuck is your problem?!  ’ ‘  math is worthless in real life. i mean, there’s an app for calculating tips. that’s all you need.  ’ ‘  your house isn’t haunted, you’re lonely.  ’ ‘  just because i can’t go out with him, someone else can? wow.  ’ ‘  oh, this is bad. i should not have done this.  ’ ‘  she’s the worst person i’ve ever met. i want to travel the world with her.  ’ ‘  no, no, no, no. i’m not lonely. i have me.  ’ ‘  i love watching russian traffic accidents on youtube while i play children’s music at the wrong rpm.  ’ ‘  god, i am so annoyed that he would hypothetically do that.  ’ ‘  you beautiful, rule-breaking moth.  ’ ‘  you beautiful, naive, sophisticated newborn baby.  ’ ‘  you beautiful tropical fish.  ’ ‘  hope no one minds if i livetweet this bitch!  ’ ‘  i just want to hear the doctor say that he had a fart attack. is that too much to ask?  ’ ‘  the only things i like are dogs and sleeping late.  ’ ‘  it kind of sucks that i’m super broke and i want to buy you stuff and it’s embarrassing that i can’t.  ’ ‘  i don’t want anything. i just want to hang out with you.  ’ ‘  you’ve killed my spirit. my spirit’s blood is on your hands.  ’ ‘  i hate people.  ’ ‘  you can see the stars, which i hate. they’re creepy.  ’ ‘  i will kill you slowly with a giant syringe.  ’ ‘  what? i love garbage.  ’ ‘  i only tell the truth when it makes me sound like i’m lying.  ’ ‘  i want to be burned at the stake.  ’ ‘  i’m going to murder you a thousand times.  ’ ‘  people who buy things are suckers.  ’ ‘  this is 100% certified for realskis.  ’ ‘  well, if there’s anyone who can bring my parents together, it’s no one. no one can ever bring them together.  ’ ‘  getting married is the bravest, most wonderful thing you can do because every day you come home and you’re just like, ‘what? it’s you! i love you! you’re my sexy roommate. we love each other.’  ’ ‘  i am 100% certain that i am 0% sure of what i’m going to do.  ’ ‘  my anxiety has kept me up for over 50 hours.  ’ ‘  maybe we should find the person who stole your positive attitude.  ’ ‘  scientists believe that the first human being who will live 150 years has already been born. i believe i am that human being.  ’ ‘  messy is fun, okay? my whole life is a giant mess and i love it.  ’ ‘  friendship is better because friends help you move. they drive you to the airport. boyfriends just... love you and marry you.  ’ ‘  i hope you brought a change of clothes cause your eyes are about to piss tears.  ’ ‘  everything hurts and i’m dying.  ’ ‘  i need you to text me every 30 seconds saying everything’s gonna be okay.  ’ ‘  let me just say, from the bottom of my heart: my bad.  ’ ‘  there are no consequences to my actions anymore. i’m like a white, male u.s. senator.  ’ ‘  hey, are you busy? and writing star trek fan fiction does not count.  ’ ‘  what do we...? like, what do we do? like, what do we do? um, how- how do we- how...? how... how... how? what do we do?!  ’ ‘  oh, also, i have a little secret... i’m drunk.  ’ ‘  i do say the cutest stuff.  ’ ‘  i don’t want to cause a panic... news flash: we’re screwed!  ’ ‘  velvet slippies, cashmere socks, velvet pants, cashmere turtle. i’m a cashmere-velvet candy cane.  ’ ‘  you shut your mouth! you have all the strengths!  ’ ‘  never half-ass two things. whole-ass one thing.  ’ ‘  i’m a simple man. i like pretty, dark-haired women and breakfast food.  ’ ‘  i guess i kind of hate most things, but i never really seem to hate you.  ’ ‘  time is money, money is power, power is pizza, and pizza is knowledge. let’s go!  ’ ‘  i have no idea what i’m doing, but i know i’m doing it really, really well.  ’ ‘  ovaries before brovaries.  ’ ‘  sometimes you gotta work a little so you can ball a lot.  ’ ‘  i have never taken the high road, but i tell people to ‘cause then there’s more room for me on the low road.  ’ ‘  just remember, every time you look up at the moon, i, too, will be looking at a moon. not the same moon, obviously. that’s impossible.  ’ ‘  i’m just gonna go live under a bridge and ask people riddles before they cross.  ’ ‘  i love games that turn people against each other.  ’ ‘  i don’t care about that prize, but i’m gonna win because i want his happiness to go away.  ’ ‘  that is the coolest sentence i have ever heard somebody talk.  ’ ‘  i wanted to make fun of stupid people while i get drunk. my two true passions.  ’ ‘  i am big enough to admit that i am often inspired by myself.  ’ ‘  if i could go back in time and cut your eyeballs out, i would.  ’

[gravedespair]

The Monster in the Mirror

Revised&Edited Previously SL: Something like a Heart to Heart

I’m up here cursing out the man that’s in the mirror I try to shake him but he follows every move I’m going crazy fighting battles with a shadow Dance with the demons cause they play my favorite tune -Dancing With Demons, Palisades

I slowly opened my eyes as sleep released me from its strangling hold. My head had been filled with horrible nightmares, memories from my past and then there were those godawful thoughts that always seemed to find a way to break through all of that mess.

As I carefully pulled myself upright, I noticed with a bit of surprise, that I almost felt normal. The demon that I had drained in that alley way, coupled with my encounter with Mags had been enough to satisfy my hunger for at least a few days. I had been stupid, neglecting my needs because I was so caught up in trying to escape that endless torment that consistently tried to bury me under it’s great weight.

I glanced to my right, taking in the sight of Mags curled up in all of those thick blankets like a cocoon. Her skin was paler than normal surrounded by all of that black and that was cause for concern.

It was possible that I had taken too much when I’d fed. Even vampires had a limit to how much blood they could have drained from their body before things could get dangerous and I hadn’t been in a solid state of mind when things had transpired.

For some reason, I found myself wanting to reach over and brush those stray curls that lay across her cheeks, and those beautiful eyes that were squeezed shut as she sleep, but I refrained.

I couldn’t allow myself to get any more attached the woman than I I already had. A friendship was one thing, but a romantic relationship would only end in torment for us both.

I was a monster, I was a disgusting creature with little care for anything and anyone. It was bad enough that I had allowed our friendship to grow to this level, I couldn’t drag her down into my destiny in Hell.

Turning away from her sleeping form, I slowly made my way out of the bed, before shuffling off into the bathroom.

I wasn’t in my apartment, but that didn’t mean I didn’t know my way around. Mags and I had spent many days and many nights together in her little apartment. Many of those had been dark, depressing times where I lost my shit completely and Mags did everything in her power to put me back together.

Fuck, I owed that woman so much more than I would ever be able to live up to. She had showed me compassion while others had only scowled and turned away. And she had been persistent, a trait I was slowly beginning to realize that I liked.

Still, after all of that pain and all of the goddamn heartbreak, I continued to pull the same shit day in and day out. I just couldn’t make myself stop.

Bypassing the lights, I stepped toward the sink after clicking to door shut softly behind me. I shoved my shaking hand into my pocket and removed my last bag. Dumping half the contents onto the countertop, then I leaned down and quickly made it disappear.

I was utterly disgusting and yet there I was, doing drugs in Maggie’s bathroom. Tainting that pristine white countertop with my nasty little addictions Mags had taken me into her home and still I carried on with my plans.

I knew that I was breaking some unspoken rule, but I couldn’t stop that shaking in my hands or that roll in my stomach that made me want to vomit.

I had definitely fucked up last night. I’d almost made it three days sober, but then I snapped. Like I always did. Relapsing back into that same, endless routine.

As I tilted my head back with a groan, the sound of the bathroom door creaking open nearly sent me into a panic.

“Asher? What the hell are you doing?” Mags rushed in, her eyes immediately landing on the small bag with the remaining white power, “Seriously? Asher, this has got to stop.” Those small hands reached up to touch my face and I jerked back. “You’re color was finally returning to normal, and those circles under your eyes were fading. Asher, when was the last time you really fed? Like last night. I can see the difference in you when you’re properly fed and focused. Asher, you have got to stop using that shit. There are ways to strengthen your shields, but the more of that shit you use, the more trauma you are inflicting on your magic.”

Shame washed over me and I hung my head, “I know it needs to stop Mags, but it’s the only thing that makes any of this even somewhat tolerable. The things that I see, the conversations in my head, all of that endless energy, and that constant pull of the dead.” I should have stopped before I got way ahead of myself, but for some reason I couldn’t keep the words from coming out of my mouth, “I feel everything, all of the time Mags. It never ends and my sleep is filled with monstrous nightmares and premonitions of each death before it happens.”

I did stop then, holding out the hand with the offending bag. Mags grabbed it, promptly popping the little zipper before flushing the power down the toilet, “I’ve been begging you for years now Asher, I wish you’d just talk to Slade. He knows more about magic than most, if anything, he can teach you to drown it all out.”

I shook my head as I tried not to mourn the loss of the last of my stash. It wasn’t like it would be hard to acquire more, but with the way Mags had become so serious, I had a feeling I wasn’t going to be leaving her house for a few days.

“It’s not that simple, Mags,” I scrubbed my hands down my face with a frustrated sigh, “I am connected to all that are living and all that are dying. I know when each person’s time is going to come. My shields aren’t strong enough to block it all out. I’ve tried for years to strengthen them, but it’s been to no avail.

Maggie took a deep breath as she crossed her arms over her chest and I couldn’t help but notice that she was looking a bit hungry herself, giving me even more reason to believe that I had been entirely to greedy with what she had offered.

“Come here,” I demanded gently, reaching my arms out so that she could step into my embrace. She hesitated briefly, but then took those few steps and wrapped her arms around my waist.

“I worry about you Asher, constantly.” Her words were muffled by my shirt as she pressed her face into my check, “I can’t get that night out of my head, it haunts my dreams. I know that you didn’t choose this roll, but sometimes Fate can be cruel. You deserve happiness Asher…”

“There’s no place in my endless existence for happiness, Mags. I’ve been doomed to an eternity of misery.” I hated the sound of sadness, of longing in my voice as I rubbed slow circles across her back.

After a few moments of silence, I lifted one hand, placing my fingers under Maggie’s chin, tilting her face up toward me, “Why don’t I make you breakfast and get you something a little more substantial to go with?”

Before she responded, a low growl sounded from her stomach, causing a small smile to turn up the edges of my lips, “Yep, I thought so.” With that, I scooped her into my arms and carried her into the kitchen where I carefully placed her on top of one of the bar stools at her little kitchen island.

Turning toward the cabinets, I pulled open the wooden doors above the sink, pulling out a squat glass. I then proceeded to remove my pocket knife from my jeans, flipping the blade open before dragging the sharp metal across the inside of my wrist. I filled the glass with about three inches of my blood before turning to hand the glass to Maggie, “You drink, while I cook.”

Maggie made no sounds of protest as she accepted the glass, promptly bringing it to her lips. I turned back toward the cabinets and became rummaging around for all that I would need to whip up some pancakes, bacon and eggs. Maggie needed real food too, my feeding from her had taken a lot out of her and I was not going to let her suffer for helping me.

“Why do you keep running from yourself?” Maggie’s soft voice carried through her small kitchen, and as her words reached my ears, I felt a shiver roll down my spine, but before I could open my mouth and make an attempt to change the subject, Maggie continued on, curiosity thick in her tone, “You are the Grim Reaper, Desth himself. I get that that’s a whole lot of frickin’ responsibility, but why not just embrace yourself for who you are? You’re miserable, and constantly in pain. You try so hard to hide it, but Asher, I can see it in your eyes.” Mags paused and took a sip from her glass.

I was having a hard time wrapping my head around the words that were coming out of her mouth. One of Maggie’s most admirable traits was her bluntness and lack of fear when it came to speaking her mind. That woman held nothing back.

But it was difficult to digest that kind of naked truth when it was directed at you. I was my own worst enemy and for years, I had refused to confront my demons. Mags was currently airing out my dirty laundry and it was making me anxious.

“You’re stronger than this Asher, I know you are. I also know that sometimes, you have to face the monster in the mirror,” Mags took a deep breath as she lifted that glass to her lips once more, downing what remained at the bottom.

I started staking pancakes as I mulled her honest words over in my brain. I wasn’t sure how to respond to the truths that Mags had spoken. Once the pancakes were finished, I quickly scrambled some eggs, lopping them onto a plate before picking up the pancake stack as well. I suddenly wasn’t in the mood to fry up bacon, besides, my appetite for real for food had seemed to abandoned me.

Settling myself in the seat besides Mags, I took a deep breath as I dropped my head into my hands, “Keeping myself fed doesn’t keep the voices out. It doesn’t stop the dreams. Even when my shields are at their strongest, I can’t turn it off. I’ve only been able to find one escape and that’s something I just can’t seem to let go of. It never fucking stops. My headspace isn’t my own Mags, and I told you earlier, I’m connected to every living and dying being.”

I forced myself to stop talking, revealing more of myself than I should have. There were just some things other people didn’t need to know and besides, the last thing I needed was for Mags to think that I was going to try something extra stupid.

But when Mags took too long to say something, I found more words just spilling out of my mouth.

“And as for facing the monster in the mirror, we battle every day. I can’t escape that monster because that monster is me and no amount of repenting will ever relieve of me my sins. My curse is that I cannot die, so no amount of any substance is going to do the job,” I paused, taking a deep breath as I refused to look up at those blue eyes I knew were watching me with wild intensity, “I’m stuck in slavery to those who rule the Underworld. I have my own horde of Reapers that collect, and answer to me. I rule a part of a domain I never thought that I’d find myself in. There is no embracing what I am and there is no escaping what I am, not until the next Grimm is born. My existence is not my own, so why don’t I deserve just the slightest bit of peace?”

We sat in silence for a moment, me trying to collect myself and realize what I had just put out on the table. I had never wanted to drag Mags into my mess, not any further than she’d already become involved.

None of this was fair to her. Mags was a kind hearted woman who had been battling her own demons, even if she’d never shared her story. I wasn’t eager to talk about my past or even my current, and there was no way that I would pry into that part of her personal life.

“You know,”

I finally looked up, bracing myself for whatever she was about to throw my way.

“What’s up?” I asked softly, feeling rather defeated.

Mags looked over at me, those blue eyes darkened by sadness as she seemed to think her words over before she spoke, her voice soft, “I didn’t choose this life either. In fact, I was kidnapped one night and sold into vampire slavery.” She took a deep breath and ducked that gaze some, “Long story short, the night I finally made my escape, I was attacked and left for dead. I woke up in an abandoned crypt three days after the incident. I was fortunate enough to find Slade. He taught me that being vampire, and being different really weren’t bad things. Unfortunately, with all of our uniqueness comes a struggle to gain control.”

Mags reached out and placed her hand over mine, causing my eyes to drop, “You just need someone to show you how to harness what you have and build your shields. It doesn’t have to be all bad, Asher. I mean, look at me and Jackie, your other favorite bartender. That poor woman has been through hell and back and she’s still here living life the best that she can.”

I stood suddenly, my skin prickling with a spark of electricity as I felt my anger rear its ugly head. I wasn’t upset with Mags, I was upset with myself.

“I’ve got to go Mags. I’m sorry, but I’ve really, really got to go,” I didn’t give her the chance to protest as I vanished.

EndSL

[atths--twice]

Botany 101- A Nice Trip to the Forest

A college AU, in which Mulder and Scully venture into the woods on a class excursion. What ensues, is a chance for them to get to know one another, as the rain falls down and the lantern light shines.

An Idea was presented on Twitter- ‘Ok, but what if instead of a hotel room it was a cabin, and they were students on an excursion.” I was intrigued and so I created this little story, I hope you enjoy it. 

Fox Mulder, known to everyone as Mulder as he hated his first name, shifted his backpack for what felt like the twentieth time in the last half hour. It had not been problematic when he had worn it at home and around town, as he had gotten used to the weight of the things he would need for this weekend away, but now it felt as though his items had been replaced with rocks. 

He had been looking forward to this trip since the class began. It was one of the main reasons he had signed up for a botany class in the first place - the eventual excursion into the forest it had promised. 

School had been keeping him busy and unable to escape the noise and the fast pace of the city. Since he had transferred to the University of Maryland, he had been working harder and buckling down. He had saved enough in the past two years of working to not have to worry about anything but his studies. 

Torn between which electives to take for the year, he had settled on botany. He had always enjoyed nature and discovering new things within, so it seemed perfect. The class was not too full from the offset, and it had dwindled down to even less soon thereafter. Mulder however, found the class intriguing and enjoyed the lectures. The professor was funny and kept the class entertained. 

There was also, though Mulder would not freely admit it, a woman in the class he found very beautiful. He had not spoken to her, save the occasional hello as they passed each other, but she captivated him. This was actually the second course they shared, and though he enjoyed the more intimate class size, he knew he would appear a fool if he spoke to her. His words got tripped up by his tongue when he was around her. 

“Hey, Mulder,” said a voice, and he sighed as he saw Kyle Dale walk up beside him. He really did not care for Kyle. He was very rich and made sure to let everyone know it. “You know there’s only the two girls here, and there are us six guys. We need to be the ones to make a move, the other guys are losers.” Kyle nudged him as he raised his eyebrows, and Mulder adjusted his backpack yet again. 

“I’d recommend you don’t let the women hear you say that, Kyle, not girls. In fact, maybe don’t say that at all. This isn’t some bar, it’s a college course. We’re all here to learn and you know, I haven’t seen either of them show any interest in you at school, I can’t imagine the woods will change their opinions,” Mulder said, glancing at the two women and then back to Kyle. “Just, let them be.”

“Jesus, you’re such a fucking downer, man. Do you ever get laid?” Kyle shook his head and walked away, catching up to Brian Harding and glancing back at Mulder as they both laughed loudly. 

Assholes, he thought, shaking his head. He looked back at the women again and watched the one he found attractive, hoping he was not being too obvious. 

She laughed at something her friend Hannah said, tossing her long red braid over her shoulder. God, he was such a sucker for redheaded women. He had been since third grade, when Jenny Lipton had moved into town halfway through the year. She was introduced by his teacher, and when she smiled at the class, his hands got sweaty . He shyly brought her dandelions at recess, and she took his hand, pulling him to the swings. He pushed her for as long as she wanted, not caring that he never even had a turn. 

This woman though, she was on another level. Her smile made his heart race and when he heard her laugh, he always wanted to hear it again. She also smelled amazing. She sat across from him in class, and every time she moved her hair, he caught a whiff of flowers and clean soap. It drove him wild and sometimes caused his attention to wander from the lecture. 

Yes, Jenny Lipton had been his first real crush, but she could not hold a candle to Dana Scully. 

“Class, we’re going to stop here for a bit. I want each of you to take out the journals you were to bring and identify the plants of the area. You should have your guide pages with you as well. We’ll be here for about forty five minutes and then we’ll be moving on to the campground,” Professor Morrow said, taking his pack off and setting it on a rock. He was about forty, a hippie with long blond hair and a full beard. He was a kind teacher and cared deeply for the subject he taught. “Break into teams or on your own, whichever you prefer.”

Mulder glanced quickly over at Dana and saw her and Hannah, slip off their backpacks and take out their journals and guide pages. She stretched and rolled her neck as she picked up her things and walked with Hannah into the woods. He took off his backpack, took out his own journal, and headed into the woods behind them.

An hour later, they all met up to collect their packs and move on. Mulder put his things away and put his pack back on, adjusting the straps so it sat better this time. They trudged on for another hour, before arriving at the campsite. A round fire pit sat in the middle of a clearing, thick round tree stumps encircling it.

Everyone sat their bags down and Kyle loudly announced he would make a fire. He walked away to gather some wood and the others began to set up their tents. Mulder had a one man tent, as he had no intention to share one with anyone. He had it set up quickly, and as he pounded the stakes in to secure it, he heard Dana laughing. He looked up to see her and Hannah struggling to get their tent up, laughing as they did. Dana was bent over, clutching her side, and then her head was thrown back as she laughed. Watching her, he missed the stake, and hit his thumb.

“Fuck,” he seethed under his breath, sticking his thumb in his mouth, the pain sharp and throbbing. He glanced up quickly to see if Dana noticed, but she and Hannah were still struggling with their tent and laughing.

Finished with securing his tent, he tossed his backpack inside, intent on setting out his sleeping bag later. He stood up and brushed off his hands, swallowing hard, as he walked closer to the women and cleared his throat. As Dana turned around and looked at him, he was struck again by the blue of her eyes.

“Uhh … would you … do you need a hand?” he stammered, and she smiled at him, making his heart race.

“I think we got it, but thanks, Fox,” she said with another smile.

“Mulder,” he said without thinking, realizing he would not mind his hated name being said by her. She tilted her head and stared at him.

“Really? You go by your last name with everyone? It’s not just a guy thing?” she asked. “Do you really not go by Fox? No one calls you Fox?” Her eyes twinkled and he felt he would let her call him anything, if she kept smiling and looking at him that way.

“Uh … my  family, but not really anyone else,” he said, even as his brain screamed at him to shut up and walk away. “Whatever you … either is fine.” He turned and walked away, exceedingly embarrassed, wishing he could disappear.

“Thanks for the offer of help‍ … Mulder,” she called after him, and he turned quickly, her dancing eyes on him, her red hair shining in the sunlight. He nodded and turned around again, walking aimlessly away from them, shaking his head at his idiocy.

He walked around for a while prior to heading back to the campsite, needing time to recover from his own stupidity. He headed over to the fire pit and watched Kyle trying to build a fire. He was doing it all wrong, laying the wood haphazardly as he added kindling under it. Mulder shook his head, stepping closer to show him how to do it correctly, when he heard a voice behind him.

“You’re not doing that properly.” He turned and saw Dana standing there, her hair down and wavy from the braid. She was looking at the fire pit, but cut her eyes at Mulder, causing him to smile slightly. “You need to build it like a chimney so the oxygen can feed through the kindling and the wood -”

“Excuse me, sweetheart,” Kyle said, looking up at her with a sneer. “I don’t need help from you on how to build a fire, okay?” He went back to trying to get the fire burning and Dana stepped closer to him.

“If our warmth and the ability to eat tonight is dependent on you, sweetheart, then I’m going to have to insist that you either build the fire properly, or get out of the way so I can do it,” she said, in a low controlled tone that made Mulder both afraid and highly aroused. Kyle stared up at her and then stood up, towering over her. She did not back down or show any fear, and soon Kyle stormed away, claiming he needed more wood.

Dana glanced over at Mulder and rolled her eyes as she pushed up her sleeves and restructured the fire. She had it lit within minutes, stood up and brushed off her hands. She looked at Mulder with a grin, and he smiled back, nodding at her appreciatively.

“Make sure he doesn’t overload it with wood, okay? I’m going to find Hannah. I wasn’t going to stop and help, but he was being an idiot about it,” she said as she walked away. He grinned and watched her before turning his eyes back to the fire.

Hours later, after everyone had eaten, they were discussing the plant life they had found that day. Kyle sat quietly, still stinging over the fact that a woman, a younger woman at that, had shown him up, The other guys kept razzing him, which he was not taking well.

Mulder sat to the left of Dana, with Hannah on her right. As the others discussed the plant life, he knew they were mistaken with their findings. Not only did he know, but he heard Dana repeatedly muttering, wrong under her breath. He huffed and she looked at him with a grin.

“Well, they are wrong,” she whispered, and he smiled. “We had the guide papers, I don’t know how they could be so mistaken.” She shrugged and he coughed to cover up a laugh as she turned around and watched the fire.

Not long later, everyone headed off to bed, the fire dying, but not out completely. Mulder watched Dana and Hannah walk into their tent as going into his own. Laying his sleeping bag out, he changed his clothes, adding an extra zip up hooded sweatshirt to take away the chill.

Getting inside the sleeping bag, he rested his head on his backpack but quickly pushed it aside, finding it too bulky to be used as a pillow. Putting his arms behind his head, he wished the tent had a mesh top so he could see the stars, but he would make do with the sound of the crickets and owls in the trees.

After the day’s activities, he should be tired, exhausted even, but he was wide awake. Sighing, he decided to go sit by the fire for a little while. Putting his boots back on, he opened his tent, stepped out, and zipped it up again, to avoid allowing in any unwanted critters. Hands in his sweatshirt pockets, his head down, he did not notice that he was not the only one with the idea to sit by the fire.

“Oh!” he heard and looked up in surprise. Dana was standing there, poking at the fire with a long stick. “I didn’t wake you, did I? I wasn’t too loud?”

“No, not at all. I … uh … I wasn’t tired, surprisingly, and thought I’d check on the fire. Guess you beat me to it,” he said and she smiled. He walked closer and stood beside her, the fire still burning low and giving off heat.

She added another few small pieces of firewood and stirred at the fire as she sat down on a stump. Mulder sat beside her and they quietly stared at the fire as it began to slightly grow. He glanced at her and then back at the fire.

“So, did the fact that we all went to bed, in the middle of a forest with a fire smoldering, bother you a bit, too?” she asked him quietly, and he laughed softly. “Or were you also a dumb idiot, who forgot to pack an extra sweatshirt, thus needing to seek out the warmth of said fire?”

He turned his head to look at her and realized she was definitely not dressed for the cold night air. She had a long flannel on, but it was absolutely not enough to keep her small body warm. He watched her wrap her arms around herself, and he stood up, already unzipping his sweatshirt.

“Oh no,” she said, putting up her hands. “Please don’t think I was implying I expected you to do that, I was just making conversation. I can’t take your sweatshirt from you. It’s my own fault for forgetting an extra shirt. Please … no.” She shook her head and pushed at the item he offered her. “I can’t.”

“You can,” he said, holding it out to her and staring at her. “It’s an extra. Well, I mean I have two shirts and this long sleeved one as well. I’ll be okay without the sweatshirt. That flannel won’t keep you warm enough. Take it. Please.” He held it out and she finally accepted it, standing up to put it on and zip it up. It was big on her of course, but wearing the flannel under helped it to fit better.

As she pulled her hair from inside it and tossed it back, he was treated to the most wonderful scent of flowers. She kept her head down for a second before raising her eyes to his. “Thank you,” she said quietly, and he nodded at her, seeing the flames from the fire reflecting in her eyes. He smiled and sat back down, as she sighed and did the same.

They sat in silence for a few minutes and watched the fire, when she suddenly stood quietly, and walked to her tent. She did not look back, but stepped inside and zipped it shut. He was left wondering if he had done something wrong, but then he smiled slowly, as he realized she was still wearing his sweatshirt.

He sat by the fire until it burned down low enough to not be a hazard, and then headed to his own tent. Laying down inside the bag once again, he smiled, imagining her sleeping comfortably because of the warmth his sweatshirt provided her. Closing his eyes, he was asleep in minutes.

_______________________

The next morning, Mulder woke with the dawn, dressed, and rebuilt the fire. He shivered as he waited for it to warm up, his eyes flicking towards Dana’s tent, hoping she had been warm enough last night. Stirring the fire, he stood with his hands extended, feeling the warmth beginning to build.

Not long after the fire was burning steadily, others began to emerge from their tents, happily seeking the warmth of the fire. Each person thanked him as they stood around it, warming their hands and backs in turn. A few of the guys started to prepare some peanut butter sandwiches for the group. Brian handed one to Mulder, who took it with a nod.

After nearly everyone had gotten up, Dana and Hannah finally came from their tent, ready for the day. Dana glanced his way and then looked down, walking over to grab a sandwich from Brian. Hannah continued on to speak to Craig, a quiet guy who Mulder actually got along with. Dana stood on the fringe and then came closer to him.

“Your sweatshirt is in the tent. I didn’t want to bring it out in front of everyone,” she said, glancing up at him, her eyes begging him to understand.

“You keep it for tonight, just in case,” he shrugged, and she shook her head. “You can.” He repeated his words from last night to her again and she sighed with a nod.  

“Thank you,” she whispered, and then walked away.

The tents were taken down and packed up as the sun began to rise higher in the sky. They left on a trail and Mulder followed behind Hannah and Dana, listening to their conversation while trying not to appear too creepy. They discussed dating and Dana admitted to Hannah that the last couple of dates she went on was a while ago, with one of the men standing her up.

Mulder scoffed at the stupidity of whoever that man was, and Dana turned around quickly and looked at him. He stopped walking abruptly and stared at her, embarrassed beyond belief. He saw her lips twitch as she turned around and began to walk again. He fell back a few paces, intent on that not happening again.

An hour or so later, they came to a shallow but wide stream they needed to cross. A log had fallen, creating a natural bridge, and they took turns walking across it carefully. Mulder had almost neared the end when his foot slipped and he fell into the stream. He luckily had not broken or sprained anything, but everything he was wearing was thoroughly soaked.

Everyone laughed, including Dana, but she was the only one to come over and help him, as he spluttered and tried to stand up. She reached for his backpack, and he handed it to her, rising to his knees and then his feet.

“Shit,” he muttered, unbuttoning his flannel shirt. He took it off and the one underneath, leaving him in a very wet tank top, cargo shorts, socks, and boots. He glanced up and found that Dana had turned her head, his backpack held in her hand, as it dripped steadily into the stream.

“I’ll take that back now,” he said softly, and she nodded, glancing at him as her eyes quickly moved up and down his body, before she turned and walked away, running her fingers through her long ponytail. He smiled as he watched her, not seeming to notice how wet he truly was.

Up another hill, they came to their camping site. A large fire pit was surrounded by small, single occupancy cabins. Everyone exclaimed at the sight of them, each of them going to check them out. Mulder set his wet pack on the step and walked inside. There was a cot, a small table made of logs, a lantern, and an oval hooked rug on the floor. It would be warmer than the tent, and for that he was relieved.

Stepping out of the room, he began to unpack his bag, shaking his head at the sheer wetness of everything. His clothes inside were soaked, but they would hopefully dry soon. It was warm out and there was still a few hours of sunlight left. He laid out his clothes and reached for his sleeping bag, thankfully finding it still dry.

He put it on the cot and checked the rest of his things. His snacks and other first aid items were okay, but his notebook was wet, his inked words running together. Shaking his head, he set it down. It would be easy to redo the work, he had it memorized. Taking out his spare shoes, a pair of old flip flops, he took off his wet boots and socks, again shaking his head.

Picking up his clothes, he went to find a place to hang them to dry while the sun was still shining. His shoes … well they would hopefully dry, but he doubted it would happen by the time they journeyed back to their cars tomorrow morning.

Clothes laid out in the sun on a bush, he walked back to the fire pit where everyone had gathered. He glanced down at the empty pit, and then looked up, catching Dana’s eye, as he raised his eyebrows. She smiled and covered her mouth as she laughed softly. He grinned as he looked toward Professor Morrow.

“All right! Congratulations on making it here unscathed, well, most of us anyway,” he said, with a glance toward Mulder and everyone laughed. He shook his head and smiled. “Tonight, as well as food that we’ve brought, we’ll be gathering edible plants to add to our meal. Berries, plants, whatever you find that you’re sure is edible. So be double, even triple sure that you’re correct. We don’t want to poison our friends.” Everyone laughed again and soon headed off, each one with a container to collect items.

Mulder found himself near Dana as they walked into the woods. He could hear her humming and he smiled, happy she was enjoying herself. They spread out, foraging the bushes for food.

“How can you just walk away from me? When all I can do is watch you leave?” he heard, and turned his head to see Dana singing quietly as she cleaned a bush of its berries. “So take a look at me now, well there's just an empty space. And there's nothing left here to remind me, just the memory of your face …” She looked up and saw him watching her and she grinned.

“I’m a little obsessed with Phil Collins right now. Sorry to expose you to my horrible singing voice,” she said, with a laugh. He shook his head and continued gathering items.

“It’s not horrible,” he told her, his eyes downcast.

“Liar,” she called, and he looked up to see her smiling. He looked back down, smiling as he continued his work.

Fire warm and food eaten, even the items they had all collected, of which Mulder and Dana had brought in the most, everyone sat around that night laughing and talking about many things. Mulder saw Hannah speaking to Craig once again, a huge smile on his face.

Mulder glanced at Dana as she put another log onto the fire, debating whether to speak to her. As he was contemplating it, she walked over to him, standing close and crossing her arms. She glanced at him and smiled and he smiled back.

“So, we’re obviously the smartest ones in class, we definitely need to stick together from now on.” She shrugged and he laughed. They both looked at the fire and were quiet, Mulder constantly feeling tongue tied around her.

“So you —” he started to say, but was cut off by the professor telling them all to head to bed, warning of rising early in the morning. Mulder glanced at Dana again, but she was busy smothering tonight’s fire, the area they were in more heavily wooded.

“Can’t take any chances,” she said, and he began to help her. Nodding her thanks, she caught his eye, and headed to her little cabin.

Making sure the fire was completely out, he took out his flashlight, and gathered all his items from the nearby bushes he had laid them on earlier. Finding them to be relatively dry, he walked into his cabin, took off his shoes, and changed his clothes. He lit the lantern on the small table and laid down on his cot.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. A knock sounded at his door and he sat up in surprise, his brow furrowing. Standing up and crossing to the door, he opened it to find Dana standing there, a flashlight in her hand, her long hair down, his borrowed sweatshirt pulled tightly around her, and a worried expression on her face.

“Hi,” he said simply, his surprise undoubtedly evident.

“I need you to look at something. Please,” her voice shaky and scared.

“Uhh … come in,” he told her, stepping aside to let her inside before he closed the door. She hurried past him and stood in the middle of the small room in his large sweatshirt, a pair of shorts, and her boots.

“I was changing my clothes and … I felt something, on my back. It was itchy earlier, but now it feels worse. I can’t see it and I need to know what it is. Can you look at it, please?” she stared at him and he nodded. She turned around, moved her hair, and dropped his sweatshirt down past her butt. His breath caught and he froze in place.

She was not wearing anything under the sweatshirt, clearly whatever she found, had scared her badly enough to forego extra clothing as she hurried to his room.

“Mulder? Fox? What is it?” Her worried voice snapped him into action, and he reached for the lantern, turning it up to see her back better. Stepping closer to her, he held the lantern as he knelt down. “It’s down on my lower back.”

As soon as he was close enough, he saw it- an angry looking rash covering a good sized area of her lower back. He touched it gently and she hissed and then she groaned.

“Sorry,” he said, feeling the heat even without touching it again. “Stay like that for a second.” He turned around and grabbed his backpack, rummaging around until he found the container of salve he had brought with him. “Okay, this might hurt a little bit.”

“What?” she asked, but he did not reply, instead taking two fingerfuls of the salve, and gently rubbing it across her back. “Oh my God, what is that? Mmmm, oh Mulder, that stings … ohhhh … no it feels good. What is it?” He rubbed in the salve and smiled as he listened to her finding relief from the comfort it provided.

Wiping his hands, he put the lid on the salve and stood up. He brought his sweatshirt back up her body and placed it on her shoulders. She grabbed at it and zipped it up. Letting her hair fall, she put her hands in the pockets of the sweatshirt and turned around, looking up at him.

“Seriously, what is that? And what’s on my back?” she asked, reaching for the container in his hands.

“It’s a rash, probably from a plant you touched unknowingly,” he told her, reaching in his bag again, taking out a bottle of aspirin and handing two of them to her. “It’s pretty hot and inflamed; this will help it feel better.” He handed her water from a canteen bottle he had and she took the medicine, just as a huge crack of thunder sounded, causing her to jump. A second later, rain began to fall, hard, on the tiny cabin.

“Whoa,” they said simultaneously, looking up as the rain pelted the roof from above. He looked back down at her and turned to the door, opening it and looking outside. She stepped closer to him and they watched as the rain obscured their vision beyond anything not directly in front of them.

“I … “ she started, and then stopped.

“No, you can’t,” he finished for her, knowing she was going to suggest she make a run for it. “You’d be soaked through, that salve will wash off, and you’d be in pain. Best to stay here, at least until it lets up a bit.” He closed the door and turned to find her right behind him, and his mouth went dry. The one person who seemed to short circuit his brain was now going to be sitting alone with him in a small room during a rainstorm, for the night possibly.

Her expression was unreadable as her eyes seemed to search his face. He waited until she nodded in agreement and stepped over to the bed, sat down, and took off her boots. She looked at him and he gave her a small smile as he picked up the lantern off the floor, set it on the little table after turning it down a bit, and then sat on the floor facing her, his back against the wall. They were both quiet as they listened to the heavy fall of the rain on the roof, thunder rumbling and then cracking loudly. He saw her jump again and he smiled slightly. She obviously didn't like thunder.

“Tell me a story,” she said, just loud enough for him to hear her above the deluge of rain, as though she was not sure if she should be asking for something like that.

“A story? About what?” he asked, looking at her in surprise. She shrugged, looking a little embarrassed.

“I don’t know, anything, I’m not picky,” she said. “I don’t really like thunder and I thought maybe a story might take my mind off it. You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” She shrugged again, looking down and touching at her back lightly over his sweatshirt. She hissed and closed her eyes.

He watched her for a second, thinking of stories that would not only interest her, but help to loosen his tongue. Leaning his head back, he knew she would not be looking for some silly fairy tale to be retold to her, and so he thought back to the science fiction and weird stories he loved to read and know more about, until he had a perfect one.

“Have you ever heard the story of the star-crossed lovers, Maurice and Lyda?” he asked, lifting his head and watching her, hoping she would say no, as he knew this story by heart. He could recite it from memory, thus making it easier to speak to her.

“The only star-crossed lovers I know of are Romeo and Juliet,” she said, shifting on the cot. He smiled and nodded as that was the case with most people.

Clearing his throat, he began his story. “Christmas, 1917, was a time of dark, dark despair. American soldiers were dying at an ungodly rate in a war-torn Europe, while at home, a deadly strain of the flu virus attacked young and old alike,” he began, and then he forgot about her as he closed his eyes, lost in his own story. “Tragedy was a visitor on every doorstep while a creeping hopelessness set in with every man, woman. and child. It was a time of dark, dark despair.”

“You said that already,” she said, with a smirk, and he opened his eyes to find her now lying on her side facing him, leaning on her elbow, one eyebrow raised. He grinned and then chuckled.

“But,” he continued, “at 1501 Larkspur Lane, for a pair of star-crossed lovers,  tragedy came not from war or pestilence, not by the boot heel or the bombardier,  but by their own innocent hand.” He stared at her and waited, seeing if he could get that skeptical eyebrow to go down.

“Go on,” she said, both eyebrows going up, and he knew he had piqued her interest.

“His name was Maurice. He was a ... a brooding, but heroic young man beloved of Lyda, a sublime beauty with a light that seemed to follow her wherever she went,” he said, waving his hands around slowly, and she laughed softly. “They were likened to two angels descended from heaven whom the gods could not protect from the horrors being visited upon this cold, grey earth.” Again he paused and stared at her, waiting to see what she would say.

“And what happened to them?”

“Well, according to legend, driven by a tragic fear of separation, they forged a lovers' pact so that they might spend eternity together and not spend one precious Christmas apart,” he said with a shrug and a half smile, his tongue loosened now from a story he had always enjoyed.

“Wait. They killed themselves?” she asked, frowning as she stared at him.

“Yeah, and supposedly their ghosts return to haunt that house every Christmas Eve,” he said, and then shivered. “I just gave myself the chills.” He stared at her with a grin and she frowned with a smile. “What?”

“Do you really believe that story?”

“I don’t know. Yeah. I mean, it’s kind of hard not to believe it when it —”

“Sounds so believable?” she cut across him, with a tone of disbelief.

“You don’t believe in ghosts?”

“Does that surprise you?”

“Well … yeah, a little. I thought everybody believed in ghosts,” he said, with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Like that slimy one in Ghostbusters?” she teased him and he shook his head.

“No, not like Ghostbusters. What a joke that movie was at portraying ghosts. They are benevolent entities … well, mostly. I have read stories of places where ghosts have done horrible things and people —” He stopped talking as he looked at the barely contained grin on her face. It spread as she tried to stop it and he once again saw the dimple in her cheek.

God, he was in so much trouble …

“You believe it all, don’t you?” she asked, with a huge grin.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked back, shrugging his shoulders. “I haven’t seen it disproven, so …” He shrugged again and she laughed as she shook her head. She laid down on her back, and he looked at her profile.

So much trouble …

“Umm … I should check your back again, just to be sure the salve is helping,” he said, getting up and picking up the container again as he knelt down beside the bed. She looked up at him, her eyes so blue, he knew that if she asked him to do anything, no matter how questionable, he would. “You need to turn over.”

She nodded and did as he asked. He lifted his sweatshirt over her butt and up just enough to expose her back. It was looking better already and felt cooler than earlier. Still, he would apply another layer and have her lay on her stomach for a while, let it soak in better.

“It looks better, not completely gone of course, but better than earlier. I’d say you had an allergic reaction to something. Obviously not poison oak, you would’ve been smart enough to avoid that, but at least it’s topical and nothing serious,” he said as he slowly put more salve on, both to make sure it was applied well, and because her skin was so soft, he wanted to touch it forever. She had a freckle just above the rash and he had an overwhelming desire to bend forward and kiss it.

“What is that stuff?” she asked again, her voice muffled in her arms, hissing and then moaning, as he applied it.

“It’s a homemade salve my mom has made for years. My sister and I were always getting scrapes and rashes as children and so she made this natural stuff because my sister cried with the stuff from the pharmacy,” he told her, rubbing slow circles across her back.

“What were you two doing to meet such catastrophes?”

“Well, we grew up in Chilmark, and spent a lot of time outdoors. Climbing trees, baseball games, races, playing widespread games of hide-and-seek. Inevitably, one of us would come down with some ailment and so my mother kept this on hand at all times. She called it the “Super Salve,” as we were both into superheroes then. Plus, it works really well, so …” He smiled as he thought of those days spent outside, no care for anything but being home on time for dinner. He finished applying the salve and closed the container. “Stay like that for a few minutes and let it really set in, it will help a lot.” He wiped his hands on the shirt he had worn earlier and leaned against the bed.

He heard her turn her head and he looked at her over his shoulder. “You’re a Vineyard boy, huh? And here I thought you were all right,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her face.

He laughed and she turned her head back, sighing as she did. “Well, whatever she puts in that, it’s like magic. Please tell your mother that I can't thank her enough. It stings for a second, but then … ohhhh …” she said in a low voice, and he was glad she had turned her head away. Her moan shot straight to his groin and he was horrified at its betrayal in such tight quarters as the rain fell down, preventing any chance of escape.

“Tell me more about your family,” she said and he smiled, thankful for the distraction.

“I have a sister, she’s twenty-one. Parents still married, still live in Chilmark. My sister is living in Europe with some friends right now, for “life experience” as she calls it,” he said, looking down at the floor.

“A single trip to Amsterdam ought to take care of that for her,” she said, and he laughed.

“You seem awfully ... normal for growing up on the Vineyard, if you don’t mind me saying,” she said, once again turning to look at him. He raised his eyebrows at her and she smiled.

“What exactly are you implying, Dana?” he asked with a smile. She stared at him, her face serious and then she smiled softly.

“I think that’s the first time I've ever heard you say my name,” she said quietly. “In this class or the last one we had together.” He stared at her and he knew she was correct. He had been nervous to speak to her, in both classes, and now he was seeing how ridiculous that was to do. Besides being smart and beautiful, she was easy to talk to, and funny.

“Yeah, I … uh … I’m not really a … I don’t hang out with many people and I don’t really engage in many conversations,” he said, and she nodded.

“I don’t like it.” She shook her head and he frowned. “You saying that name, I mean. I just think that if you insist on being called Mulder, you should call me … Scully.” She shrugged and he stared at her, trying to decide if she was teasing him. She smiled and he knew she meant it.

“Okay … Scully,” he said, and she grinned wider. He smiled back and she nodded.

“Scully. I like it.” She smiled, and he cleared his throat, looking down at the floor. “And to answer your question, Mulder, I wasn’t really implying anything about Vineyard people. I was just teasing.”

“I know … Scully,” he said, looking up at her and she smiled at him again. “I know what people think about those of us on the Vineyard and I understand. My family does belong to a country club, I went to cotillions when I was younger, and my sister was even a debutante, but only because my mother insisted on it. My sister didn’t want to do it, and in fact, the night of the ball, she left about halfway through, changed out of her ridiculous dress and gloves, and came back in jeans, a Rolling Stones t-shirt, and black Converse high tops. My mother was nearly apoplectic, but my sister just shrugged and kept dancing.”

“I like her. She sounds like someone I’d like to know,” Dana laughed, and he nodded and smiled. Samantha was definitely someone he could see her befriending.

“What about your family?” he asked, and she shook her head, moving to lay on her side, facing him, but keeping his sweatshirt up above her rash.

“I’m not terribly interesting,” she said, waving him away. He stared at her as she licked her lips, biting the bottom one, and he wished he could taste them. “My parents are married, my father is in the Navy. We’ve lived in a lot of places, but have been here for the longest length of time. My older brother is also in the Navy and he’s stationed in Germany. My younger brother is starting college this coming year. I have an older sister, but I don’t really know where she is right now. She’s kind of flighty and the last time I heard from her, she was in Colorado. I think she was anyway. She’s always on the move, ‘following the wind and the sun,’ she says.” She paused and sighed. He looked at her again and she shook her head.

“What?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed, looking down. “I’m still not completely sure what I want to do with my life. I have always loved science and pursuing answers that are not readily available. But I know that’s not a field most women enter into, as if it’s odd a woman would find science interesting.”

“Pssh!” Mulder said forcefully. “It’s incredibly hot and sexy when women are interested in science.” Realizing what he said, his face became flushed, and he fell silent as he chanced a glance at her. She smiled, her own cheeks pink, as she looked down. Thunder cracked again and this time he jumped.

They were quiet for a few minutes and she sighed again. “I just wish that I was more like my sister sometimes. She’s not afraid to do anything. To just up and leave, follow her passion, live in a cabin with some guy she just met and make jewelry to sell at swap meets. She’s flighty, yes, but she’s also passionate and caring, and doesn’t care how she’s perceived. She’s ballsy and tough, despite her hippie outward appearance.” She fell silent and he looked at her, wanting to tell her she was all of that and more, but he worried it would scare her, so he tried a different tactic.

“Every person is given the personality that’s right for them,” he said, looking at the wall across the room. “We see in others what we imagine we are lacking, and yet it’s there, just perhaps not right at the surface. Every person is exactly who they are meant to be.”

“Wow, you and my sister would get along really well,” she told him with a quiet laugh. “Dare I say, even make a good couple.”

“Hmm, what’s her stance on science?” he asked, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

“The whole idea of it?” she laughed. “I wouldn’t say she’s against it, but she’s more prone to believe in the healing power of crystals than modern medicine.”

“Oh, well, then I'm sorry, I’m gonna have to pass. A firm grasp in the belief of science is high on my list. I’d put it at top five, easily,” he said, turning his head to find her staring at him. She did not blink for a few seconds, holding his stare, until thunder cracked again, and she jumped.

“It’s late,” he said quietly. “You should try to get some sleep. Is your back feeling better?” She nodded, staring at him again, as she pulled his sweatshirt down and covered her back. She got inside the sleeping bag, glanced at him once more, and then turned toward the wall.

“Good night, Mulder,” she said softly.

“Good night … Scully,” he replied with a smile, shifting until he was lying on his back on the floor, his arm behind his head, listening to the rain falling unrelentlessly on the roof. A few minutes later, he heard her soft breathing and he smiled again, as he himself fell asleep.

________________

Mulder woke early, wanting to be sure Dana was out of his cabin and back in her own, before anyone else was up and about. No need for anyone to suspect anything, especially as it pertained to her.

She walked to her cabin, slipping in the mud a bit, as she arrived at her door. She turned and looked at him as she walked inside, an odd expression on her face. He hoped it was not one of regret or worry over what they had shared last night. Then just as the door was about to close, she poked her head out and smiled at him, and his heart pounded wildly against his rib cage.

The campsite was a muddy wet mess the next morning. No chance for the warmth of a fire, as the fire pit was full of water, and every piece of wood in the forest was wet regardless.

Once everyone was up, and that discovery was made, the grumbling began. Foul moods abounded, but Mulder was not fazed by any of them. He could not stop grinning, remembering Dana’s laugh and the beautiful blue of her eyes.

He saw her speaking to Professor Morrow, showing him her back, though not in the same manner she had to him last night. He could not hear them speaking, but the professor glanced his way and nodded, telling him without words that he had done the right thing.

Bags packed and everything ready, they began the long hike back down. The weather made it harder, but they were meant to be back that day, so everyone kept a steady pace. As the car park came into view, Kyle slipped and fell, much to everyone’s amusement. Covered in mud, he swore and yelled, trying to wipe himself clean, and failing.

Gathering by all the cars, Professor Morrow reminded them to finish their workbooks and to write a 2,000 word essay about the weekend and what they experienced. Some groaned and others grinned. Mulder saw Dana smile softly and he wondered what she was thinking about.

People began to leave and soon it was just a few of them. Dana walked over to him, his sweatshirt in her hands, and a smile on her face. He stared at her, feeling Hannah’s eyes on them, making him feel awkward.

“Thank you for the use of your sweatshirt, Fox … Mulder.” She handed it to him and he took it, laying it over his arm.

“You’re welcome, Dana … Scully,” he said and she grinned. They stared at each other, and the desire to kiss her was stronger than anything he had ever felt. Her eyes flicked to his lips and his mouth went dry. Looking back into his eyes, they continued to stand there, staring at one another.

“Dana! Come on, let’s go!” Hannah called from across the car park, causing Mulder to jump, and Dana to sigh.

“Okay,” she called back, looking at her over her shoulder. She looked back at Mulder and smiled sadly. “See you in class.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, feeling deflated and low. “See you in class.” She stared at him, waiting, and he stepped back with his head down. He heard her sigh again and then the crunch of her boots on the gravel of the car park.

Looking up, he watched them drive away and felt like a complete fool. “You are such an idiot. So stupid.” He threw his backpack in the backseat and then got in the car, heading for his little apartment off campus, berating himself the whole way, knowing he had completely missed his chance.

Arriving home, he went around back and sat on his porch, dumping out his backpack, making sure no little creatures had hitched a ride home. He looked through everything, made piles of things to put away and to be washed. He looked at his sweatshirt and shook his head. Dana’s naked body had been inside it, but he still needed to wash it.

Taking off everything but his undershirt and shorts, he walked barefoot to the front door and unlocked it. Coming through his small one bedroom apartment, he opened the backdoor and began to bring things inside. Once that was done, he stripped, tossing his clothes outside, and took a shower.

Changed and feeling better physically, but still like an idiot, he scooped up his pile of clothes from outside, grabbed the laundry soap and some quarters, and headed to the laundry room. He opened the lid, added the quarters, and started to put his clothes inside. Taking the time to go through his pockets, he found a rock and some small pieces of dried leaves, which he threw away.

His sweatshirt was last, and he sighed as he reached inside the pockets, and frowned as he touched something. Taking it out, he saw it was a folded piece of paper. Opening it, he grinned and then laughed as he read the words written on the page.

How could you just let me walk away? Just let me leave without a trace?

Scully

(301) 555-0134

P.S. I’m working on those hidden personality traits.

He threw the sweatshirt in the wash, dumped in the soap, closed the lid, pushed in the quarter tray, and ran upstairs. Slamming the door, he grabbed the phone and dialed her number. His heart pounding, breath ragged, he waited. Two rings and then her voice made him stop moving.

“Scully.”

“Hey, Scully, it’s me.” He grinned as he moved again and walked to the couch, flopping down on it.

“Well, it’s about damn time, Mulder,” she teased.

“I’m inclined to agree.” He laughed, sitting forward and shaking his head. She joined his laughter and then they fell silent. His heart began pounding, but if she had been braver than usual, then he could be too. “I … I wanted to kiss you.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “Me, too.” The honesty they expressed, left him tongue tied once again. Just hearing her voice in his ear, made his body feel warm.

“So, Mulder … do you suppose that house on Larkspur Lane is haunted only on Christmas? Surely it could do with a scientific investigation, just to see,” she said, and he could hear her smile. He sat back with a grin, ready to discuss haunted houses, or any other damn thing she wanted.

For the next ten minutes, an hour, or for the rest of his life.