#scully says 'comes to them for sex?' as she walks towards mulder

[nefertitisfjordd]

work proximity associates

[goodnightmemes]

BONES SENTENCE STARTERS / s01e01 - s01e04

❛ Look, I'm sorry if I embarrassed you in front of your friends but, next time you should identify yourself before attacking me. ❜

❛ If you drive one more block, I'm screaming 'kidnap' out the window. ❜

❛ What? Do you want me to spit in my hand? We're Scully and Mulder. ❜

❛ I hate psychology and you're just horny. ❜

❛ I don't know about the rest of my life but I sure as hell wish I was alone right now. ❜

❛ I hate it when you make paranoia plausible, it's like sliding off a cliff. ❜

❛ My most meaningful relationships are with dead people! ❜

❛ You ever think you come off kind of distant because you connect too much? ❜

❛ I hate psychology, it's a soft science. ❜

❛ Offer up a little bit of yourself every once and awhile. Just... tell somebody something you're not completely certain you want them to know. ❜

❛ Don't be nice to me after I got you in trouble. ❜

❛ Your heart was in the right place. ❜

❛ No, I'm not a heart person, you're a heart person, I'm a brain person. ❜

❛ My fight or flight response is heavily weighted toward flight. ❜

❛ It's not magic. It's a logical recreation of events based on evidence. ❜

❛ You know, you being a good shot and doing martial arts, it's all your way of dealing. ❜

❛ Who knows better than you how fragile life can be? ❜

❛ That something you don't like to talk about? Families? ❜

❛ Partners, they share things, builds trust. ❜

❛ Stalk me and I will kick your ass. ❜

❛ She only shot him in the leg. Once. ❜

❛ Ughh, you need to get out of the lab you know, watch TV, turn on the radio, anything! ❜

❛ You know, it's okay to be upset. ❜

❛ I wish this is the worst thing I'd seen. ❜

❛ So what do we do, group hug? ❜

❛ I'm sorry but I don't understand the advantage of compromise. ❜

❛ You're making it personal. That doesn't help. ❜

❛ All of us die a little bit on one like this. ❜

❛ Hard at work? There's a shocker. ❜

❛ I think he likes you. God if I were you, I'd buy a ticket on that ride. ❜

❛ You know it's not that scary. You have a few drinks. You move to the music. You might even smile. ❜

❛ It's best to just ride it out, like an earthquake. ❜

❛ You can't make wild accusations about somebody's personal life based on a feeling! ❜

❛ I'm a constant surprise. ❜

❛ She has enough pent up sexual energy to power a small mid-western city. ❜

❛ I'm not angry. Believe me, you do not want to see me angry. That's the last thing you want to see. ❜

❛ You can always count on the dead. ❜

❛ I need subtitles walking in here. ❜

❛ What's the big deal? Is it so odd for you that I have someone in my life? ❜

❛ Alright, you know, you have to quit using the word segue and eschew. They sound French. ❜

❛ You just said that as though it's a good thing and you know what? It's a very, very sad comment on your personal life. ❜

❛ Fanaticism and logic don't go hand in hand. ❜

❛ Where are the reinforcements? Aren't there always reinforcements? ❜

❛ You know you really picked an odd time to have this conversation. ❜

❛ There's no pleasure in taking someone's life. Nothing to celebrate. ❜

❛ Somebody is decomposing as we speak. ❜

❛ This is a work zone. Do not talk sex at work. ❜

❛ All right, look, we've got about a forty-five minute drive. What do you say we pass it in quiet meditation. ❜

❛ You know I'm glad we had that little chat about being nice to the locals. ❜

❛ Last time you had a gun you shot someone. ❜

❛ My gut says it stinks. ❜

❛ I thought we understood each other. ❜

❛ I don't like people who think they're better than other people. ❜

❛ Some people are better than other people. ❜

❛ It's sad. Try to remember that. ❜

❛ I'm not a sociopath. ❜

❛ You're bad with people, okay. No use being offended by the fact. ❜

❛ There are some things you learn by doing... riding a bike, driving a car, pleasing a woman. ❜

❛ You have no idea of how open minded I can be. ❜

❛ Hmm? See, look at that. It stinks. Go ahead, smell it. You know you wanna smell it. It stinks. ❜

❛ I promise you I will find out the truth. ❜

❛ That was not wild and kinky sex. It was very, very basic beginner stuff. Just so you know. ❜

❛ I'm tired of being lied to, so excuse me if I'm indelicate. ❜

❛ You're the least objective person I have ever met. ❜

❛ Maybe if you opened your mind we could find out the actual truth. ❜

❛ Dude, minty burp, still burp. ❜

❛ Sometime when you're not busy, I wonder if I could ask you a few questions about sexual positions. ❜

❛ I will always know the difference between hope and fact. ❜

❛ What I believe doesn't matter. What makes me sad doesn't matter. ❜

❛ That cynicism you affect, it's your way of hiding your deeply romantic nature. ❜

❛ Well this is where a public school education comes in handy. Divide and conquer was the playground motto. ❜

❛ If you don't want to help me just say so. ❜

❛ Just do it. Reap the benefits of my sexual wisdom. ❜

❛ So, uh, what part of 'this is mine' did you not understand? Do I have to say it in Latin? ❜

❛ Just because you say it in that definitive tone doesn't mean it means anything to me. ❜

❛ It's time to live a little, connect with other people. ❜

❛ Are you suggesting I take this opportunity to have sex with [name] on a field trip? ❜

❛ You're a smart ass, you know that? ❜

❛ Objectively I'd say I'm very smart, although it has nothing to do with my ass. ❜

❛ It's an old FBI trick, I'm going to ask somebody who lives here. ❜

❛ What's the fastest way to ship a human arm? ❜

❛ It gave me a few ideas if I ever want to kill someone and get rid of the body. ❜

❛ Don't forget, the heroine always catches the bad guy. ❜

❛ You'd be surprised...when survival instincts kick in… ❜

❛ According to that Peruvian soccer team that crashed in the Andes, human flesh tastes like frogs' legs. ❜

❛ If we were a Peruvian soccer team and crashed into the Andes. Who would you rather eat, me or [name]? ❜

❛ What do you think our chances are of keeping this quiet? ❜

❛ I don't know if a wall of knives is evidence, but it sure is creepy. ❜

❛ Fun and a drink, where do we find that? ❜

❛ I shouldn't be talking shop, not with such a beautiful woman in my arms. ❜

❛ You're the hottest thing this town has seen in a long time. ❜

❛ Now that is somebody who wants to eat your heart. ❜

❛ I mean the whole perfect idea of love is that two people become one...now that's a kind of consumption. ❜

❛ Look, you're nuts, ok. We get it. We don't need to hear the rambling psycho speech on why you did it. ❜

[all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Dreamland (6x04)

“Yes, sir, I’ll send them in when Agent Mulder arrives,” she promises. Assistant Director Kersh scowls, waving her away. The fake smile straining her face disappears as soon as she returns to her desk and tosses the anxious-looking redhead perched on the edge of the anteroom couch an exasperated look. 

Agent Scully checks her watch for the tenth time. Laura does the same, staring pointedly at the lone agent. Her partner is late, and the assistant director does not tolerate tardiness. In fact, he doesn’t tolerate her partner, either. 

“I’m sure he’s on his way,” Agent Scully placates. 

Laura’s eyes roll. It may be petty, but ever since she’d first seen sexy Agent Mulder walking the halls like a GQ model, she’s been harboring animosity toward the only woman he seems to look twice at.

She sighs. There are days Laura Larkin really hates her job. She works 24-7 and has almost no personal life. Glancing out the window at the lack-luster agents passing by, Laura can’t help but scoff. 

The testosterone-laden bullpen is full of either married men, misogynists, or men only attracted to other men. The bureau’s dating pool leaves a woman little to desire. A feat, really, when it’s been six months since she’s had sex. Nine, if she considered good sex. Even asshole Agent Colton is looking decent these days. 

Jesus, she really needs to get laid. 

“Mulder!” Agent Scully shouts as her very late, very attractive partner strolls right by the office. They speak, and Laura can’t help staring at Agent Mulder’s tight, rounded ass. If she could spend one night—

“Hi, there,” he cheerfully says. “How are you this morning?”

Her brow arches. A.D. Kersh rarely elicits cheer.

As the pair enter the lion’s den of her boss’s office, Laura muses if the spicy gossip surrounding the partners is true. The bureau’s rumor mill runs rampant, so you never know what you’re going to hear. One day it’s Agent Henderson screwing her long-time lab partner atop the fingerprinting station. The next, it’s A.D. Skinner secretly dating his own assistant. Hell, good for Arlene if that one’s true. But the rumors that the basement-dwelling duo are attached at the hip (and everywhere else) are unfailingly consistent. 

The door swings open as they exit and Laura idly wonders if Agent Mulder fucks the way he works: hard and passionate. 

She stands to grab her appointment book, when suddenly, Agent Mulder approaches with a sultry smile and a hand to her back. “If you’re free for lunch, I’d love to treat you,” he whispers seductively. 

Her stomach swoops. “Yeah?” 

“My place?” His pouty lips brush her ear. “You won’t regret it.”

Laura finally smiles.

***

His apartment smells like “man.” Like musty cologne, old leather, and stale popcorn. It’s sparse and nothing matches. It's oddly perfect.

“You look surprised to be here,” Agent Mulder says, ushering her inside. She considers questioning him about his status with Agent Scully, but quickly nixes that. If he wanted her, Laura wouldn’t be here. “Thanks for coming.”

“Well, here’s hoping,” Laura blurts, instantly blushing under his delight. “Uh, I didn’t think you’d noticed me.”

He leans in, caressing her shoulders when she closes the door. “I’d have to be a real loser if I didn’t.”

Not wasting a second of her lunch break, she sheds her jacket and loosens his tie. “Even with all the spooky talk, I never thought you were a loser.”

“Careful there, pretty lady, you’ll turn me into a softie.”

“Huh…” Laura rubs her thigh across the massive bulge already tenting his pants and gasps. She’s heard speculations about this thing. Even guiltily fantasized about her tongue swirling around his shaft like a wet whip. “Nothing about you feels soft to me,” she teases and kisses him, so eager to devour him she nearly swallows his tongue. 

“Take this off,” she orders, yanking on his belt as his mouth moves from hers and latches onto her neck like a leech. “Fuck!”

“You're a bad girl, aren’t ya?” He slides his hand up her skirt and slaps her nylon-covered ass. “Filthy little mouth.”

Laura rears back. Sure, his ideas are absurd and his reputation laughable, but she’d never imagined Spooky Fox Mulder was into dirty talk. 

And Laura likes it. A lot.

“Maybe so.” She shoves him backwards through the apartment, his lanky frame flopping onto the leather couch with a thump. Laura rucks her skirt up as she straddles his lap and sucks his fat bottom lip between her teeth. “Now hurry, I’m on the clock.”

“Okay, okay, don’t get your panties in a wad.”

That comment should turn her off, but she’s so high on adrenaline and lust that she can’t bring herself to care. “Whatever, just strip.” She fucking needs this.

They’re both panting by the time he unbuckles his belt. Just as Laura rocks back atop Agent Mulder’s lap and her fingers grasp his zipper, her phone rings. They both groan.

“Shit!” She untangles his long fingers from her hair before digging in her jacket for her cell. “It’s Kersh… Yes, sir? But I’m— okay, understood, be there soon.” 

Laura pouts, reluctantly standing to straighten her skirt. “Rain check?”

“Baby…” he whines, walking her to the door, rumpled and half-hard with her lipstick smeared across his face. 

She giggles at the sight, laughing when he promises there’s more to come with another swat to her ass. Giddy, she grips the doorframe and kisses his plush lips one more time. 

Walking weak-kneed down the hall, she sees Agent Mulder’s stunned and rather jealous-looking partner standing mutely in her way.She can’t blame the woman for being envious. Fox Mulder’s mouth is fucking magical. In that moment Laura decides that maybe she doesn’t really hate her job, after all.

“Agent Scully…” Her smirk is sly as she wipes her mouth clean, sashaying her way to the elevator. 

This is one lunch break Laura will never forget.

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Archive of Our Own!

@monikafilefan

[notoriousdks]

Took the plunge and wrote my first, little fan-fiction. No beta-reader, so be gentle! Any & all feedback is welcome and appreciated!

It’s Remotely Plausible I Could Show You (AO3)

Scully heard a knock at her door. She peered out of the peephole to see Mulder patiently waiting with a slightly anxious look on his face. Her heart sank as she thought oh god, he wants to talk…he wants to let me down easy… After they slept together, she quietly fled Mulder’s apartment before he woke to give herself much needed alone time to process her feelings. Feelings of deep love and adoration that she harbored for this man, but had no expectation of ever being reciprocated. Feelings of inadequacy and self doubt — she found herself coming back to the same train of thought: this was just sex, there’s no way he feels anything more… there’s no way he feels the same way about me as I do about him. Apparently a few hours was all the time she would get before she had to face the cold, hard reality of the talk she would much sooner ignore. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she slowly opened the door with a soft smile. All she could bring herself to say upon seeing Mulder in her doorway was, “Hi.” Uhhhggg, Dana. You moron. Hi!?! That’s your opener?! What are you, a doofy teenager?! she immediately chastised herself.

“Hey, Scully,” Mulder stated. He noticed a slight expression of annoyance on Scully’s face. Suddenly swept across Mulder’s face. He quickly said, “Sorry, I should have called first. I should just go,” motioning down the hall.

“No!” Scully responded more eagerly than she intended. She took another calming breath and paused her internal self-flagellation, replacing her annoyed expression with a slightly nervous smile, “No, it’s okay. Come on in,” stepping aside and holding the door open wider to allow Mulder to pass through.

With a quick and seemingly nervous movement, Mulder stepped into Scully’s apartment. “Scully, I…” Mulder stammered.

“It’s okay, Mulder,” Scully cut him off and felt all of her feelings of inadequacy erupt out before she could catch herself, “I know why you’re here and I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have instigated. I hope my lapse in judgement last night won’t jeopardize our working relationship or our friendship.”

“Scully..” Mulder attempted to interject.

“I mean, it’s not that it didn’t mean anything to me. It did…actually mean something…to me,” Scully trailed off briefly, regretting her words but knowing there was no going back from this, “…but I don’t want you to feel like you have to reciprocate because I couldn’t keep my composure. I know I’m not exactly your type and…”

Before Scully could continue, she found Mulder in her personal space, deeply kissing her and gently rubbing her cheeks with his thumbs. Scully felt herself melt, humming softly in approval. With his hands still cupping her cheeks, Mulder broke the kiss and looked deeply into her eyes for a moment. He softly confessed, “Dana, I love you. I have loved you since you walked through my office door seven years ago. I will love you long after you’ve grown tired of me. I will love you until the bitter end.”

Scully wrapped her arms around Mulder’s neck and kissed him with everything she had. His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer than either thought possible. As Scully poured her heart into the kiss, she felt the rest of her body aching for more. When she finally needed to come up for air, she felt her mischievous side kick into high gear. Scully backed away from Mulder, slowly inching towards the bedroom with a sly grin “Mulder, you can be down right infuriating sometimes, but I don’t think I’m ever going to get tired of you… because I love you, too… more than I can even begin to explain”. Scully slinked closer to her bedroom door, “But I think, it’s remotely plausible, that I could show you just how much I love you” she flirted. Mulder closed the gap between them, his dark eyes fixed on Scully as though he could pounce on her at any moment. His hand grazed his familiar spot on her lower back, ushering her into the bedroom. The door snicked closed behind them.

[boldlyvoid]

Million Dollar Man | Chapter Five

18+

summary: Spencer's therapist recommended he branch out and meet new people who don't want to talk about his work... she didn't expect him to sign up for a Sugar Daddy website.

Content warnings: sugar daddy!spencer, age gaps (14 years), daddy kink, blow jobs, handcuffs, thigh fucking, public sex, exhibitionism, edging, vibrators, dirty talk, dom spencer

word count: 4.6K

a/n: updates on Wednesdays and Saturdays

Chapter Five | Masterlist

He’s ripped from a peaceful slumber by his work phone ringing on the night table. Y/N asleep on his chest, he tries to reach for it without waking her, successfully he answers with a groggy whisper, “hello?”

“Morning sleepy head?” Emily laughs, “it’s 10 am, Reid, why are you whispering?”

“I’m with my girlfriend, she’s still asleep,” he realizes he’s never told the team flat out that he was seeing someone, they all guessed but none of them had really asked.

“Oh,” Emily seems just as shocked that he said it. “We have a local case, I need you here for the geo profile and then you can go back to your mandated break.”

“I’ll be in, in 30,” he replies before hanging up.

“Can I come?” She whispers against him, obviously awake from all the commotion.

“Sure,” he shrugs, “if you don’t mind seeing and hearing about whatever horrific thing happened this time.”

“I don’t,” she sits up and stretches, “come on Mulder, we’ve got a case to crack.”

He laughs, “sure thing Scully.”

—

He’s nervous in the elevator on the way up to the BAU, Y/N on the other hand is so excited she’s practically vibrating. She’s dressed for the part, with her little visitor's badge and Spencer’s hand held tightly in her own, she basically drags him towards the bullpen when the doors open.

“Spence!” Luke calls for him, Tara and Matt turn around with big smiles to see him. “Who’s this?”

“Uh,” Spencer swallows sharply, “this is my girlfriend, Y/N this is Luke, Matt and Tara.”

She lets go of his hand to shake theirs, he watches as they all smile and introduce themselves to her, causing the rest of the team to notice the new person in the room and rush over. They have a lot of questions, they’re all very surprised she’s as young as he was when he started at the bureau and that he’s actually bringing her around.

When he finds out what’s going on, he’s really glad he brought her in. There’s been a few bomb threats in D.C, one of which is the building across from Y/N’s apartment. They’re trying to keep hysteria to a minimum, he knows he wouldn’t have been able to tell her if he didn’t bring her, he also knows he would have broken protocol to get her out of there.

She sits at his desk while he works, looking through all his things for a while before Spencer hears a familiar voice in the bullpen. Penelope was called in for backup, making eye contact with Y/N as soon as she walked in and cheering. “Oh! You’re here!”

Spencer leaves the briefing room, abandoning the geo-profile to introduce Penelope to the girl she helped him find, he runs down the stairs and wraps his arms around her.

“Spencer,” she relaxes into his embrace and holds him close, “I’ve missed you so much.”

When Spencer pulls away, the smile on his face is remarkable, “Penelope, this is Y/N,” he says her name and Penelope automatically knows who she is.

He told her right after he bought her whole Wishlist, Penelope has known about her the longest and yet she’s never been able to meet her. She turns to Y/N with a smile, “are you a hugger?”

Y/N stands and wraps her arms around her, “I think I owe you a very big thank you,” she whispers in Penelope’s ear.

“For what?”

“Teaching grandpa over here how to use the internet,” she teases him, “and for your helpful tips, he was the nicest one I met on there.”

“You’re very welcome,” Penelope pulls back with another smile, holding Y/N’s face in her hands, “and thank you.”

Y/N pulls her into another hug and now everyone is watching, Spencer knows he’s going to be bombarded with questions eventually but for now, Y/N is going with Penelope to her office and Spencer has a map to look at while he stresses himself out.

Matt, Tara and Emily head to the scene to join JJ, Rossi and Will, leaving Luke with Spencer in the briefing room.

“Can I ask?”

Spencer nods, “go ahead.”

“How did you meet her? Was she one of your students?”

He doesn’t know how to answer, not because he’s ashamed of it or of her, rather because he doesn’t know if she’ll want people to really know. “Penelope helped me get online to meet people, I made an account on a sugar daddy website thinking it would be easier to pay someone who doesn’t know me to hang out rather than try and make a new friend.”

“That’s smart,” Luke nods along as he listens. “She seems really cool.”

“She’s the best,” he smiles. “She’s really smart and talented, she’s an author actually, her books coming out in January.”

“I’ll have to get a copy,” Luke smiles right back.

“Her publisher and I have actually planned a big birthday party slash final draft party, if you and the team want to come and have drinks and get to know her more, that would be really nice,” Spencer offers, knowing it’s about time they all celebrated something together.

“I’d love to come, and I’ll bring Penelope,” Luke’s just as excited as he is.

“I’m a little surprised you didn’t know already, being with Penelope and everything?”

He shrugs, “we don’t talk about work or really gossip about the team now that she’s not working here, it makes her a little sad that she left but she’s doing a lot better just coming in occasionally.”

“I didn’t think I’d like my months off at first, either, but now I’m also debating leaving,” he knows it's a lie. He’s already written his letter of recognition, he’s just waiting for the go-ahead from Y/N that they’re moving to California.

“16 years is a really long time to be doing this job,” he agrees, “I’m sure if you wanted to leave the bureau would offer you your full retirement package early, given everything you’ve been through for this country.”

Spencer nods, “don’t let this job take your spark, you’re very wonderful, Luke, and I’d hate to see you lose it for the greater good.”

“My greater good is just down the hall,” he smirks, “I make the world a better place for the woman I love, she’s the reason I get up every day and come to work because I can’t wait to get home to her safely.”

Luke has always loved Penelope, it’s been very obvious, and yet she didn’t want really anything to do with him until Derek advised her to be nice. She was so busy thinking about all her other babies leaving the nest after Derek that she didn’t take the time to consider bringing in Luke to the nest for warmth and love as well.

“When are you asking her to marry you?”

Luke turns bashful, a slight blush on his cheeks as he stares at the table, “Christmas, it’s her favourite time of the year.”

“Have you talked to Derek?” Spencer only worries slightly, after what happened with Kevin he doesn’t want to see it happen to Luke.

“Nope, I’ve talked to her brothers though, we’re going to California again this year for Christmas and they all said they’d love to have me in the family,” Luke smiles, “the Garcias are my favourite.”

Spencer isn’t normally a hugger but he walks around the table and wraps Luke up, “I’m asking Y/N in a week.”

“No way?”

He nods, “she’s the greatest good I’m ever going to get.”

“Amen, brother.”

—

Penelope’s job was incredible, she was in awe as she watched her tap away at her keyboard and answer a million and one questions. She reminded her of Ned from Kim Possible and she knew if she said that to anyone she’d give away just how young she is.

She’s gotten a lot of looks, she knows people are talking about it and yet she doesn’t really care. There isn’t any malice behind the stares and the whispers, they all seem genuinely surprised that Spencer has a girlfriend over the fact she’s in her 20’s.

There’s a single dull moment and she turns to Y/N, “can I please have the juicy details, please,” she begs and it makes her feel giddy.

She’s never really had any girlfriends like this, and she certainly didn’t have anyone to tell about Spencer. “He’s the love of my life, I’m completely serious.”

Penelope squealed, “that’s all I’ve ever wanted for him, ugh this is so exciting! Are you guys serious? How long has it been?”

She nods, “not long, uh he got me this necklace a week or two ago and we’ve been moving pretty slow for his sake. In the last 10 months he’s become my bestie and I’ve convinced him to move in and he sleeps in my bed now and I love waking up beside him… he’s a real gentleman.”

“That’s good, he’s never been able to take the scenic route in life… I know you’re only here cause he trusts you and if he trusts you that means you know everything and if you know ever—“

“Yeah,” she cuts her off, “I know about all of it and everyone who’s hurt him and how he’s hurt himself but what’s more important is that it doesn’t phase me, he’s just a person trying to deal with the life he’s been given, we all are.”

Penelope wraps her up in a gentle hug, “he’s always needed someone like you.”

It makes her heartbreak just a tiny bit thinking about how as long he didn’t have anyone. Sure, he was surrounded by his friends at work and loved enough that they all brought him back home but he was never cared for the way she would have done it. There’s a weird maternal instinct that comes over her with Spencer and she knows exactly why, all she knows is she wants to love him and care for him for the rest of his life.

If she lives to be 100, she hopes he lives to be 116, because there isn’t a day she wants to spend on this earth where Spencer Reid isn’t alive and beside her.

She’s not going to cry in Penelope’s arms after just meeting her so she pulls back with a smile, “but what kind of juicy details are we talking? Cause I can’t embarrass him too bad…”

Penelope’s laugh is evil as she rubs her hands together, “a little birdie whose name rhymes with shmerek said he knows how to use that mouth for more than just talking…”

It makes her laugh almost a little too hard and she starts to feel her face heat up, she simply nods, “yeah, we haven’t gone all the way but from what’s happened so far, I can agree.”

Penelope turns in her rolling chair and laughs, “ugh that’s so great, I’m glad you’re having a good time— I mean I always thought Spencer would be good in bed after all the chats we’ve had about kinks and shit, he’s really educated, obviously, but I always knew that it would translate from paper to real-life very easily.”

“Oh totally,” she nods feverishly, “we talked about that before actually, virginity is simply a construct used to control women and make them feel pure or dirty, to feel like they can take something from a woman and yet virgins are so sexual and in tune with their needs and wants that they typically are good or at least know what to do from whatever porn they’ve consumed when it comes down to it. How the more in tune with someone's sexuality that they are the better they are in bed because they apply what they want to their partner and almost get off more on the fact someone is enjoying them than the fact they’re being pleasured.”

Penelope shakes her head with a loving smile, “you listen when he talks, you love every part of him and you’re beautiful… he really hit the jackpot.”

She brushes it off with a laugh, “I got pretty lucky with him too.”

Her phone rings before she can agree, answering with a cheerful tone, Spencer is on the other end, “do you have my beautiful girlfriend with you still?”

“Present,” she answers for herself, “are you still here, dad-Spence?”

She bites her lip and closes her eyes, fuck.

“Yeah, uh, I am, we think we got the actual building with the bomb, they’ve sent the team down there to clear it and check it out.”

“I’ll head back to the bullpen, then,” she stands and heads to the door, not wanting to face Penelope after almost calling him daddy right in front of her.

“Hey,” she calls to Y/N, “don’t be embarrassed. I get it, believe me, I’ve answered some calls in here with the dirtiest remarks to the completely wrong people. But, I’ll see you later?”

She smiles, “yeah, I’d love to see you again.”

In the bullpen, Spencer’s by his desk all alone. His teams cleared out and now it was just the office staff wandering around. She wraps her arms around his waist and rests her head on his back, “ready to go home?”

“Uh, not yet…” he turns to look at her, “I don’t want to bring you back to D.C unless the case is closed.” He looks nervous and she understands it perfectly.

“Okie Dokie, she smiles, leaning in for a hug to get close to his ear, “can we fuck in a storage closet to pass the time?”

He laughs but he takes her hand and he pretends to take her on a tour, he leads her down the hall and towards the filing room where he knows no one will be. “No one has really used this room in ages, since we went digital, and Penelope had all this stuff put online anyway.”

“So you can bend me over that table and rail me next time we come back?”

“Or?” She hears his playful tone and smirks to herself, letting him manhandle her hands behind her back as he bends her over a table, “I could fuck these big beautiful thighs of yours?”

“So only you can get off? Please,” She scoffs at him, wanting to piss him off to see where it gets her, wiggling her ass back against him as she does so.

He unbuttons her pants and drags them down her legs to leave her in just her thong, taking a handful of her ass and squeezing before laying a hard slap against her, she gasps at the feeling but also at the fact it was so loud.

“They’re going to hear you?!” She whispers with a disappointed tone.

“Isn’t that what you said you wanted? You wanted everyone to know only daddy can take care of you?” He uses her own words against her and she whines. “That’s what I thought.”

“No, but seriously,” she turns her head to look at him, “check my pocket.”

He does exactly that, finding one of her little bullet vibes in the front pocket of her jeans, “you planned this?”

“I knew we’d be having some kind of sex somewhere in this building,” she smirks. “Also my safe word is red but keep going.”

“Alrighty, then,” she can hear the smirk on his face as he thinks it over.

He takes his handcuffs out of his back pocket and cuffs her, “you know, it’s public indecency looking like this in here, technically it’s a federal offence and it’s my duty as a federal officer to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

She swallows sharply, pushing back against his groin and gasping when her bare asscheek meets the cold metal of his gun in his holster. Sometimes she forgot he was a real FBI agent, sometimes it didn’t feel real to her because he was just her nerdy boyfriend and he never had any of his "cop props" with him… suddenly they weren’t just accessories to her anymore, he was actually a cop who just bent her over a table and cuffed her and now he’s going to fuck her "big beautiful thighs" as he called them.

“What’s the sentence, agent?” She plays along because damn he’s hot like this.

He presses his chest to her back as he leans in close to her ear, “It’s doctor, and you know that.”

He turns on the vibrator and rests it inside her underwear, right against her clit at the lowest setting, her thighs twitch at the feeling and all she wishes is that she had something to hold on to.

She whines again when she hears his belt buckle dangle and his zipper open, he grips his cock at the base and drags the head between her cheeks before slipping between her things with a sigh, “and it’s taking my time, you’re just going to have to, rather impatiently, deal with it.”

“Yes, doctor,” she closes her eyes and waits for the feeling of his cock between her legs but he doesn’t push in.

He places his feet on either side of hers so that she can't open her legs any further and finally, finally breaches her thighs. He groans at the drag of his cock against her skin as the vibrations from her panties continue to make her legs quake. She lets out a shaky breath and reaches for his shirt as he presses against her once more. Grabbing his tie instead, she pulls on it and he gasps for air.

“Sorry,” she mumbles with a smirk, not sorry at all for slightly choking him as she continues to hold his tie.

He swats her hands away from his tie and grips the cuffs to separate her hands, pushing them further up her back until it’s almost uncomfortable. The most uncomfortable thing about this was the fact he wasn’t inside of her, she felt so empty as she clenched around nothing. The stimulation on her clit was nice, the feeling of him taking her from behind is ungodly and yet he’s not in her. It’s the worst punishment in the whole world.

It was nowhere near enough to get her off and he knew that she wanted so much more that she wasn’t going to get, whining as he kept his thrusts at the same slow pace. It was agonizing, she squeezed her legs together more to tease him but he ended up liking it. There was nothing she could do for more, she was just going to have to let him take her, and that thought was what brought her closer.

“Please?” She begged, sounding just as desperate as she thought she would and not giving a single fuck.

“Please what?” He snaps his hips against her just a bit harder with each thrust.

She gasps again before biting her lip to hold back a moan, “finish in my mouth?” She begs once more, “please?”

He pulls off of her and yanks her off the table, turning her around, she drops to her knees without being told and opens her mouth immediately. He grips her by her hair and guides her towards his cock, slipping it past her lips and right down her throat.

He groans at the feeling, she closes her eyes for a moment to enjoy the feeling of his heavy cock in her mouth. Taking him more forcefully than ever before, he’s too caught up in the moment to realize he might be a little too rough but she also doesn’t mind. Breathing through her nose to stay calm she takes him as far as she can, pressing her nose to his pubes he can feel how hot her breath is as she struggles to breathe.

“Such a good girl,” he pulls her off so she can breathe for a moment, “you want my cum so bad don’t you?”

“Yes please, daddy,” she replies with a rasp in her voice that makes it obvious where he’s been.

She takes him in her mouth once more, sucking earnestly to get him closer and closer to the edge. He’s whining, pulling her hair and doing everything in his power not to thrust against her face, even though she’s okay with it.

She knows when he’s close because his cock always twitches in the same spot, it’s a tell-tale sign that he’s going to cum in a second. She applies more suction, running her tongue along the underside before taking him all the way once more just in time for him to cum right down her throat with each swallow.

He’s not quiet, anyone walking past the door will hear him panting and gasping, muttering good girl under his breath, he’s more fucked out by this blow job than she’s ever made him before. She can’t help but smirk as he pulls away and leaves her there on her knees, covered in spit and drool and unable to wipe her own mouth due to the fact she’s still fucking handcuffed.

She rests against his shoe, pressing the vibrator against her clit a little more, she twitches at how good it feels but it’s still not enough to get her off, and a part of her doesn’t want to.

He pulls her up to her feet and sits her down on the table he was just pretending to fuck her against. He attempts to spread her legs and get between them but she stops him, “leave the vibe where it is and let’s just go home?”

“You want to walk out of this building with a vibrator in your panties, and say goodbye to my co-workers and friends knowing you could cum anytime?”

She smirks, “yes, but I won't cum cause this pathetic toy isn’t as good at you.”

He clicks the button to turn it up a speed and she gasps, pushing against the feeling and moaning into it, “I’d like to see you try that.”

—

He takes her on the rest of the “tour” with that vibrator in her panties, she’s getting more and more flustered the more they look around. Eventually, he shows her the library, getting her alone in the back corner where he can talk to her without the risk of people knowing what’s going on.

“I can’t,” she whines as he presses her against the shelves, “please?”

“Please what?”

“Turn it off, daddy, I can’t take it anymore,” she grips his suit jacket tightly as she looks up at him with the eyes he can’t say no to.

“Mmm,” he hums, reaching into her pants to free her from the stimulation, she relaxes finally. “What do you think you deserve now?”

“Don’t wanna cum till we’re at home,” she whispers, “but you’ll have to make it quick because we have a flight to catch at 8.”

“Fuck,” he whispers like he forgot. “I hope we can get back into the apartment in time.”

“Why?”

“The bomb was in the basement of the building beside yours,” he admits and the whole facade fades, “that’s why I’m not taking you home yet.”

“That’s why you wanted to fuck me,” she whispers with a giggle. “You could have at least told me this was a ‘you almost died’ rush for you.”

“I didn’t want to say it like that,” he admits and a depression washes through his blood, he feels the low settle as he drops, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she takes his face in her hands and makes him look her in the eyes, “I love you, I’m glad we’re both safe. Everything in there is replaceable, you and me aren’t. This is a really good thing, Spencer.”

He nods, doing what she’s told him so many times she wants him to do, telling her his thoughts so that he’s no longer haunted alone, “when I told my friend Derek about you, he said dating a younger woman means I’ll never have to worry about you dying of old age before me. That’s one of his fears being the same age as Savannah, but I’ve lost so many people I never even thought about getting old with you I’ve just wanted to keep this version of you safe and with me forever.”

“Penelope said she always wished you’d find someone like me, and my only thought was If I live to be 100, I hope you live to be 116 because there isn’t a day I want to spend on this earth where Spencer Reid isn’t alive and beside me,” he whispers with a smile, “but now I’m thinking if you live to be 100, I don’t want to go past 84.”

“You can’t say that,” he whispers, tears bubbling in his eyes, “what if I die tomorrow? I need to know you’re going to be fine and not end your wonderful existence because I’m not here anymore. You’re too wonderful to put all your worth on me.”

She doesn’t want to cry, she already looks like she’s been fucked and now she’s a mess, she pulls him into a kiss so he’ll stop talking and they can just be together, it was hard enough for her thinking he was going to die eventually, let alone him hypothesizing dying tomorrow.

She rests her forehead against his, “we always do this.”

“What?”

“It’s like orgasms open the emotions or something,” she snuffles which turns into a laugh, “do you think our kids are going to find it weird that you’re so much older than me?”

Everything takes him for a loop, “uh,” he struggles to find the words, pulling back and looking at her as her face drops, “I um—

“You don’t want kids anymore?” She looks genuinely saddened and he doesn’t know how to answer.

“I do,” he nods, “just—“

“Not with me?” She puts the words in his mouth.

“With you, just not yet,” he holds her by the shoulders, “I need more time with you before we have a kid, I need to love life and be in a good place and somewhere where I can focus all my attention on them, and I can’t yet.”

“I want a baby by 30,” she whispers before pressing her lips together awkwardly, “46 isn’t too old to be a dad, I’ve seen men become fathers at 80.”

He laughs as the anxiety leaves him, “a little California surfer baby wouldn’t be too bad.”

“Well, we fuck like rabbits, we might get there sooner than you planned,” she nudges him, “you’re a wonderful boyfriend, and if you don’t mind, I’d like for you to stay my boyfriend for a little longer? I’m not ready to be a wife or a mom and change my name when I just got it put on a published book.”

“I’ll change mine to yours,” he replies like it's nothing, “or keep yours and we’ll hyphenate the kid's names.”

“It’s plural now?” She teases him once more.

“Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you,” he assures her, “forever.”

“You’d pluck a star from the sky for me wouldn’t you, Doctor Y/L/N?”

He laughs at how it sounds but he kinda likes it. Her word choice is even funnier to him, however, because he’s actually gone out of his way to pluck a star for her. She has no idea, but her last present is a big one.

She struggled to get her own name on a book for so long, now there’s a star named after her, in the sky for everyone to see for the rest of time.

Permanent tag list:

@ssacalumsg0lden @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @shemarmooresfedora @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @blanchardsbk @idonotexiste @measure-in-pain @dreams-in-blxck @doc-padfoot @nomajdetective @xoxospencerreid @mggswhorificlover @dinonuggets1967 @meganskane @kya-li @reidsbookclub @muffin-cup @sassymoon @shirleyrose @reidsacademia @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @spooky-goob @anaagraceeberr

Sugar daddy fic

@mggs-sidehoe @bakugouswh0r3 @mggskneescrews @moonlight-2-6 @spencerreidscumwhore @my-thoughts-are-weird @violetclifford @youabitchhhh @bunny-script @baby-i-am-fireproof @moondustmemories @rexorangecouny @minervaonmars @onlyhereforthefanfics @anonymous-reading @go2sleepducky @kingcrain @beepbooptoop @givemeth @emma-is-a-nerd @wrecky-becky @eternalspence @ne--yo-pets @valerieweasley @coldlilheart @andiebeaword @bingereid @a-mended-pact

[anders-hawke]

Signs

Episode: “Je Souhaite” | Rated M | @today-in-fic | Warning: if any of the symptoms of pregnancy are squicky for you, it would be best to avoid this fic. Also, a reminder that we use Fahrenheit in the U.S., so don’t freak out at the wonky temperature stuff, my Celsius loaves.

Scully feels a little guilty for sending Mulder home last night after teasing him all day about what she was going to do to him in bed, but she blames her upset stomach on being “forced” to skip lunch that day. Scully had waved him off after three hours of on and off vomiting, feeling like she sent the entirety of her pizza and soda into the toilet.

She’d sent him back to his apartment so he’d stop hovering, his incessant chatter only magnifying the headache beginning to build at the base of her skull.

Mulder had called as soon as he got home, leaving a voicemail for her to please not come in tomorrow if she’s still sick. Well, Scully had fortunately felt right as rain when she woke up, aside from the minimal gnawing feeling in her stomach.

She regrets eating two bagels with lox and her real cream cheese now. This must be her punishment for breaking the rule of saving it for the fair amount of bad mornings she encounters. Her stomach’s mutinying again at the smell of Mulder’s black coffee and she can feel another toilet session coming on.

“Oh, God,” Scully whispers, all intent to apologize and press a soft kiss to his lips going out the proverbial door as she sprints out the real one and hauls ass to the bathroom.

She must have a stomach bug, Scully reasons, trying to even out her breathing as she folds some paper towels and wets them before pressing them against her face and neck. She’s suddenly feeling strangely hot, evidence of her sick flushed away.

Mulder knocks three times on the bathroom door. “Scully?”

“Yeah?” she sends back, splashing her face with water. She groans as she feels another gag coming on.

“I brought you some ginger ale and—and some Pepto Bismol. And Tums. I know you don’t like the Pepto but, you know, I figured this called for all the stops.”

She can imagine the look on his face as he hears her vomiting again. Scully checks her watch when it’s over. It’s still only 8:27 in the fucking morning!? How the hell is she supposed to make it through the rest of the workday like this?

The door hinges creak and she looks over at Mulder. “I told you not to come in if you’re still sick, Scully.”

“I wasn’t! I felt fine this morning, and then I walked in the office and smelled your coffee and...”

He leans against the counter and crosses his arms, puckering his lips as part of his exaggerated thinking face. Scully stands up straight and shoots him a look. Mulder shakes his head and puts his hands up. “Look, all I’m saying is that it looks like the same thing happened last night. As soon as we got out the ice cream, you bolted to the bathroom.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “What are you getting at, Mulder?”

“Just that you should go home and at least take a nap or something. If you stay off your feet for a few hours and relax, I’ll be happy. Nibble on some crackers, catch a soap opera...” Mulder shrugs. “You’re clearly sick, Scully. If not for yourself, do it on the chance that it’s contagious.”

Scully places the wet paper towel on the back of her neck, holding it there. “Fine. But only because it might be contagious.”

“I mean—that doesn’t make it better, but thank you nonetheless. Do you want me to drive you? What if there’s a random smell that sets you off on the ride there?”

She rolls her eyes but tells him, “Fine.”

—

Mulder’s assertion that certain smells have been setting off whatever’s going on with her stomach seem to be proven true when she comes back to the office after a few hours of rest and relaxation to the harsh sight of a man whose... whose mouth suddenly disappeared and had to be surgically recreated. Not a twinge from her stomach aside from shock butterflies.

Scully’s relieved that she’s been able to keep down her lunch. To be fair, it was crackers with a little cheese and a full two cups of water to make sure she was hydrated, but any food is good food. She proudly announces to Mulder during their ensuing flight the next day that it seems whatever illness hit is gone.

—

It’s not cold in Creve Coeur, Missouri—certainly not in Spring—but Scully’s feeling every degree of the breeze through the open windows like it’s in the thirties. She’s shivering the entire car ride to the Mark Twain Trailer Park, and noticeably enough for Mulder to glance at her with concern before putting up the windows and turning the heat up.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little cold.”

He frowns at that but lets it go until they hit a red light, when he leans over and presses his hand to her forehead.

Scully quirks her lips in a smile. “What are you doing?”

“Checking your temperature,” he replies. “You don’t seem to have a fever...”

“I’m fine, Mulder,” she insists, leaning into his hand for the few seconds she gets the light turns green.

“Alright, but if you’re still sick, Scully, then you have to promise me that you’ll go back to the motel, okay? I brought the meds just in case, if you need them.”

She smiles softly and places her hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

“It’s what a good boyfriend does.”

—

Her stomach bug really does seem to be gone, which is a relief. However, she’s now insatiably hungry for two things: Mulder, and the bagels from the bagel place two streets over from her apartment. Well, she consoles, one is attainable, at least. And, boy, does she attain it. They’re both breathing heavily by the time Scully’s through with him, and even though they’re sticky with sweat, she curls her body around Mulder’s anyway.

Her breasts are tingly, which has never happened after sex before, but she chalks it up to Mulder’s harsh treatment of her only a minute ago as she nuzzles his chest. She inhales and sighs happily. “I love the way you smell,” she murmurs.

He laughs and she feels it against her cheek. “Coming from the woman who made me start using a different deodorant,” he jokes, squeezing his arm around her shoulders. “Your nipples are darker.”

“What?” Scully props herself up with her forearm to make proper eye contact as her brows furrow.

“Yeah. I don’t know. They’re darker. Feel a little heavier, too. You didn’t notice?”

She shakes her head and laughs. “Unlike you, Mulder, I don’t spend hours studying my boobs.”

He shrugs and rolls them over so he’s hovering over her on his forearms. “Your loss.”

—

“Fuck,” she swears, digging around in her suitcase, fresh from her shower. She’s only got one hand because the other’s holding her towel wrap together.

“What?” Mulder asks around his toothbrush, exiting the bathroom. His tie is slung behind his neck and his suit jacket is waiting for him on the bed.

“I don’t have any panty liners.”

“Do you want me to go out and get some?” he asks, heading back to the bathroom to spit.

“Yeah, that would be great.” Scully walks past him into the still-warm bathroom and lets the towel drop as she uses the one wrapped around her hair to dry the wet strands.

“Alright. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She drops the hair towel when he takes the singular step needed in the tiny motel bathroom to invade her space in favor of pulling him down for a kiss by the ends of his tie. “Mmm, settle down or the plan’ll be botched.”

“I was just thanking you,” Scully says, affecting innocence as she does his tie for him.

“For buying you panty liners? What would happen if I surprised you with some ice cream?”

“I would eat the ice cream.”

“Damn.” Mulder presses a kiss to the top of her head before heading out to put on his suit jacket. “Do you mind me asking why you need panty liners? Also! What brand?”

“Any with wings. And I need them because there’s been an unusual amount of vaginal discharge in my underwear and I don’t want to ruin any more of them.”

“Right.” He steps back in view of the bathroom and takes in her naked body.

Scully raises an eyebrow at him. “What?”

(Their books on pregnancy are buried inside their storage closets from a time best forgotten.)

“Nothing. I just like looking at you.”

She smiles at him, drying her hair again. “Get going, hotshot.”

—

Halfway through the flight home, Scully discovers something that makes her a bit worried. She’s not supposed to get her period until next week, so the blood on the liner she quickly tosses away with shaky hands can’t be because of that. She tries to forget about it as she walks back to her seat next to Mulder, but he must see something on her face that prompts him to ask if she’s okay.

“I’m fine,” she lies, managing to give him a smile. “Just tired.”

He seems to accept that and leaves her be. It’s not even a lie; she feels exhausted after everything that happened over the past few days. Scully makes a mental note to book an emergency appointment with her Ob-Gyn when they land, and closes her eyes.

—

“Dana,” Dr. Namin starts, disrupting her patient’s thumb twiddling.

Scully abruptly stands up as her doctor moves to stand in front of the exam table, computer and several documents in hand. “You don’t look concerned,” she says, following Namin to the exam table.

“Because there’s nothing to be concerned about at this stage except plenty of rest, hydration, and eating at least three good meals a day,” Scully’s doctor replies, opening up her computer and spreading out the documents. “We’ve done all the tests you asked for, but nothing came up. However, based on the symptoms you listed, I performed one more, and that’s where we found the culprit.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re pregnant, Dana. Plain and simple. Congratulations.” Dr. Namin slides one of the documents towards Scully, who takes it. “You’re about three and a half weeks along. You can take all the papers. There’s suggestions for all the prenatal vitamins you’ll need to take and how much water to drink in a day. Resources for managing symptoms, too.”

Scully nods dumbly, tears gathering in her eyes as she stares at the diagnosis. “Um, when should I come back?”

“Don’t worry about that right now, I’ll have someone give you a call with that information. Just relax and enjoy the news. I remember how much you wanted this, Dana. I...I don’t know how this happened, but the baby’s doing well. Minor bleeding is completely normal and you don’t need to worry. If it gets worse or doesn’t stop soon, then come back.”

“Okay,” Scully chokes out, smiling widely as she wipes away her tears and collects the documents on the exam table.

—

She spends a few hours at her apartment trying to figure out how to tell Mulder the good news but gets nowhere. In the middle of pacing around her couch, one arm unconsciously wrapped around her abdomen, her phone starts ringing.

“Scully speaking.”

“Agent Scully,” Skinner starts, and she immediately knows that Mulder’s done something stupid again, “could you check on Agent Mulder? He snuck into my meeting and was yelling at my chair.”

“Yes, of course, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Scully hangs up the phone and sighs heavily. Looks like God’s giving her a sign to just get it over with. When she enters the office, however, the woman Mulder keeps insisting is a genie is there, too. She licks her lips nervously and tries to ignore her.

“Skinner called me, Mulder. Is everything alright?”

Sitting at the desk, computer on, she has to wonder what he’s doing. “You don’t remember disappearing off the face of the Earth for an hour this morning?”

She gives her head a small shake as she tells him, “No,” truly starting to get concerned.

Mulder just shrugs with a little smile and gets back to typing with a nonchalant, “Well, I guess everything’s okay.”

Get it out, just say it, she thinks, trying to psych herself up. She sighs. “Mul—” But the woman’s still there in the office. “Could you give us a minute, please?”

“Sure,” the woman—Jenn, Mulder told her on the plane—says with a nod.

Scully steps closer to the desk, butterflies in her stomach. Jenn isn’t moving, and it’s making her annoyed, quite frankly. “Like, today?” she says, turning around, but the black-haired woman is nowhere to be found, not even in the annex. Scully turns back to her partner, extremely confused. “Where the hell’d she go?”

Mulder childishly imitates a genie disappearing and she feels the sudden urge to laugh at the thought that this man is the father of her child. “No...” she says, softening the guffaw trying to escape to a scoff-laugh. “It’s gotta—” She scoffs for real this time. “It’s gotta be hypnotism, or—or mesmerism, or something.”

And thus begins the verbal sparring. As he lists all the things he wants for the world, Scully thinks, again, of how this is the father of her child. Something suspiciously soft is trying to emerge from her heart as she responds, and she’s a coward to boot, so she leaves without telling him. Driving back to her apartment, Scully feels guilty at how little effort she put into trying to break the news to Mulder. She just—she doesn’t know what to make of the news herself, let alone how to explain it to him.

An hour into The Exorcist, hugging a pillow as she wishes Mulder was watching it with her, the phone rings. “Scully, do you wanna come over and watch a movie? I’ve got your favorite popcorn...”

She grins. “Of course. I’ll bring the drinks.”

—

They’ve both changed their clothes for the movie night, and when Mulder opens the door, they’re sporting matching grins. “Oh, zero alcohol content?” he faux complains, taking the case of six drinks into the kitchen. “Is this your punishment for me, Scully?”

She elects not to respond as she follows him and takes out the package of popcorn and a pot. “Can you grab the olive oil, Mulder?”

“Yeah, of course.” He puts four of the drinks in the fridge before reaching into one of the cabinets to grab the oil and put it on the counter next to the stove, which Scully’s turning it on.

“I’ll never understand why you won’t just microwave them. It’s faster.”

“Yeah, but if you do it in the pot, it tastes better,” she shoots back, opening the package and pouring the kernels into the pot.

“That’s just because of the oil.”

“Well, you can continue to eat shitty popcorn for the rest of your life if you want, but I’m going to eat my good popcorn.”

They turn to face each other as the kernels pop and hit the lid, a staring contest beginning. Scully wins when she licks her lips and distracts Mulder enough to get him to blink.

“Ha! I got you! I win!”

“That’s cheating!”

“I won!” she says in a sing-song voice, emptying the finished popcorn into the bowl.

Mulder shakes his head with a smile. “Why don’t you take the drinks and get comfortable. I’ll finish the popcorn.”

Scully nods and does as he suggests, but as she’s crossing into the living room, she pauses and turns around. “No butter, please,” she says, and he turns around with a scoop of butter in a bowl in his right hand, the handle of the microwave in the other.

“No... butter...?” She nods. “We always put butter on the popcorn, Scully.”

“Well, I don’t want butter this time,” she says, and makes her way to the couch, sitting down and placing the drinks on the coffee table. She hears Mulder sigh heavily and put the bowl of butter in the fridge before making his way to the living room, bowl of popcorn in hand.

He shakes his head as he grabs the movie case from the table and inserts it into the player. “Can’t believe you don’t want butter on your popcorn. Eugh. It’s un-American.” He steps around the table and sits down next to Scully.

She takes the case from where he left it and makes a face. “Caddyshack, Mulder?” she questions.

“It’s a classic American movie,” he insists, grabbing his drink and propping his feet up.

“That’s what every guy says.” Scully grabs her own and untwists the cap, tossing it onto the table. Mulder does the same, but his bounces off onto the floor, and she laughs into the bottle. “So, uh... What’s the occasion?” she asks, as if they still take the justifying movie nights thing seriously.

Last week’s was I thought you might need some help feeding your fish.

“I don’t know. Just felt like the thing to do. Cheers.”

Maybe it is time to turn over a new leaf, especially considering the baby growing inside her, cell by cell. They clink their bottles—“Cheers,” she says—and drink. Tell him, tell him, tell hi—

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I, um, never made the world a happier place.”

They nod together and Scully knows that this is the moment to tell him. She takes a deep breath. “Well, I’m fairly happy. That’s something.” A smile slides onto her face and she looks at him, a lot more than fairly happy now. “Actually, I’m ecstatic.” She gives a little laugh and reaches into her pocket for the piece of paper she’d stared at for hours earlier.

“Really? Is there a specific reason, or...?”

Scully pulls the paper out and looks at the blue highlighted text on the portion of the paper that’s not folded back for a moment before handing it to Mulder. “That’s why,” she says, voice trembling a little out of happiness.

She watches his face as the words sink in. He reads it again, murmuring, “Diagnosis: pregnancy (3.5 weeks),” as he does so, a grin spreading across his lips. “Scully...”

“I know,” she says, setting her bottle on the table, and before Mulder can say anything else, she cups his cheeks and kisses him, unwilling to fight the urge.

“Scully, this is wonderful!” He laughs joyously and kisses her again, setting the paper and his drink on the table. “I’m so happy.” He brings her into his embrace and buries his face in her shoulder for a long moment, both of them starting to cry. He suddenly pulls away and puts his hand on her abdomen under her shirt, his other arm still wrapped around Scully.

“I love you,” she tells him.

“I love you, too,” he replies.

[scullyverse]

I’m Glad You Stayed

Prompt by anon;

“We’re just…friends" - “Friends don’t do this type of shit!”

I haven’t written smut in so long so it felt a little weird to write it again, but I hope it’s okay and that you like it anon! And I have used my head cannon here that during sex they use their first names instead of Mulder and Scully . I don’t know why I think that they would, I just do. I think there’s something very personal and intimate about it that is so very them.

Also available to read on ao3

Scully and Mulder’s usual Friday night dinner turns into something much more interesting. Takes place a few months after Fight the Future.

Mulder/Scully || filth || 4.3K words || Rating E (Explicit for smut)

It was how most Friday nights seemed to turn out these days. With Mulder sitting on his couch, feet rested up on the coffee table with a beer in his hands and one Dana Scully rolling her eyes next to him as he made a joke about the trashy movie they were watching. It had started to become some what of a routine since their return from Antartica a few months ago and Scully had to admit that she was beginning to look forward to her Friday nights now. It would start with a dinner of take away Chinese food and end with them having a drink and watching an old school sci fi movie. Though most of the time the television would be forgotten as they talked about nothing in particular before Scully would call it a night and drive herself back to her apartment. Mulder would insist she stay, saying that it was late and she could take his bed for the night, but every time she would just smile slightly and whisper ‘Goodnight Mulder’ before touching his lips with her fingers and leave. She would spend the whole drive home thinking of him and his pouting lips.

“Scully, seriously, I don’t want you driving home in this tonight, it’s raining cats and dogs out there” Mulder titled his beer towards the window, the rain pelting the glass and the wind howling through the gaps in the fixtures. “You know I sleep on the couch anyway, just take my bed, it has clean sheets and everything”

Sighing, Scully looked out the window and she shuddered slightly with the anticipation, or really lack there of, of having to drive back to her apartment in the storm raging outside. She really didn’t want to risk driving home, but as she let her eyes wander back to Mulder sitting there with that smirk on his face she could feel a rush of butterflies hit her stomach and knew that staying here could be a bad decision too. She couldn’t remember everything that had happened to her leading up to her regaining consciousness on the ice sheets in Antartica, but she had remembered every minuet detail of Mulder’s confession to her in the hallway of his apartment block. It replayed over and over in her head every time she looked into his eyes, the way he had poured his heart out to her and the way his breath had felt on her lips before every thing became blurred still lingered in her head.

But along with that was a tight grip on her heart with the constant worry that his confession could very well have just been a way to get her to stay and nothing more and that these feelings she had developed were completely one sided. She couldn’t risk her friendship with Mulder by asking him about it. His was the only true friendship she had ever had and she knew she couldn’t do anything to jeopardise it. He was far too important to her to lose over her stupid complexion of feelings.

“Wow, clean sheets? You really know how to impress a girl” Scully rolled her eyes with a smirk, her tone patronising but her eyes tinkling with playfulness as she put her empty beer bottle down on the coffee table. The banter that they had developed over the years was finally settling into something Scully treasured as much as she would never admit that to him.

“Well you know me Scully, I’m always here to impress the ladies” Bringing his beer to his mouth, Mulder wiggled his eyebrows slightly which caused Scully to laugh, giving him a light punch to the arm.

“In your dreams Mulder”

She knew that she had to leave now before it got any later and before her resolve weakened anymore. Scully needed to be in control of herself, had to reign in her feelings as to not ruin this and she knew that it would become harder and harder for her to do so if she stayed, knowing he would be there just on the other side of a bedroom wall. Pushing herself up from the couch, Scully was about to wish Mulder good night before she felt a hand wrap around her wrist, gentle but firm, which caused her to look back, seeing Mulder watch her with a look to his eyes that she hadn’t seen before. “Scully, come on...Stay”

Scully’s breath hitched in her throat as she froze, looking into his eyes. It was such a simple request that she would usually turn down but there was just something about the way he was looking at her that caused her head to nod without her control as she eased back down onto the couch, feeling the gentle grip on her wrist vanish. “Okay”

’What am I doing?’ Scully thought to herself as she rubbed her hands on her thighs, suddenly feeling them get a little clammy. This was dangerous territory and she could feel her heart begin to thump in her chest. She was usually so in control of her emotions, taking pride in being one to maintain professionalism, but lately with Mulder she was finding it harder and harder to suppress the urges she felt to find out what his lips tasted like.

‘Stop! This is Mulder. He doesn’t see you like that. He is just being a good friend’ Tucking her hands together between her knees she gave him an awkward smile, suddenly feeling stupid sitting on his couch thinking about kissing him while he was just trying to extend some good hospitality and make sure she didn’t go and drive in the storm.

Mulder’s face broke into a grin as he quickly finished up his beer before he put the empty bottle back down on the coffee table. “I’m glad you decided to stay Scully. I didn’t want you driving in that tonight...Did you want another drink?”

“No that’s okay, I might just go get ready fo-“

“I have some spare clothes if you would like? I’m sure they will be more comfortable to sleep in” Mulder didn’t wait for an answer, before he practically jumped up from the couch, disappearing into his bedroom. Scully sat there stunned, but couldn’t help herself from smiling warmly at how sweet he was to her. Looking down at her outfit she knew he was right, her usual work attire wouldn’t be that comfortable to sleep in after all. But could she really borrow his clothes? And have to deal with being wrapped up in his scent all night. She was sure that she wouldn’t be getting much sleep anyway for reasons other than her clothes so she decided she may as well be as comfortable as possible.

Hearing the scuffle of his feet again, Scully looked up and saw him smile, handing her a worn grey t shirt and some plaid pyjama shorts which she was sure would be way too big but she took them anyway with a grateful smile. “Thanks Mulder”

“Feel free to shower if you want too. You know where the spare towels are”

“It’s okay. I’ll just go get changed...” Trailing off, Scully brushed her thumb over the material of the bundled clothes in her arms before she stood, brushing past him as he sat back down on the couch, feeling his eyes on her as she moved towards his bedroom.

Sure she had been in Mulder’s bedroom before, but there hadn’t been such hesitation as there was now. Scully bit her lower lip, pushing the door closed, resting against the wood as she felt it click shut behind her. She seriously needed to get a grip of herself. Shaking her head slightly, Scully quickly removed her clothes, putting them into a pile on the chest of drawers against the wall, making sure to tuck and fold her bra into her shirt so it wouldn’t be seen.

Standing in just her underwear, Scully felt herself bringing his clothes to her nose and inhaled slightly. She couldn’t help the smile creeping onto her face at the feeling of Mulder invading her senses before she quickly slipped on his shirt. Looking down at herself she placed his shorts in a pile next to her own clothes, realising that his shirt fell nearly to her knees and that his shorts wouldn’t fit her anyway.

Running her fingers through her hair, Scully took a deep breath before she bucked up enough courage to open his bedroom door. If Mulder only saw her as a friend, surely her being so under dressed wouldn’t hurt. Besides, she would only be popping out for a moment to wish him good night anyway. Opening the door quietly, she crossed her arms over her chest to cover herself, still feeling slightly exposed. Looking towards the couch, she felt her breath stop at the way Mulder was gazing at her. His lips were parted slightly and his eyes were roaming over her body, she could feel them working inch by inch over her and she had to admit that it made a warmth blossom between her legs. She willed her body to stop it.

“S-Scully...” Mulder stuttered, getting to his feet he licked his lips as they curled up into a smirk, something else that shot straight to her core. He began walking towards her, stopping in front of her just enough to still give her some space. “That shirt looks good on you, you should wear it more often”

Feeling a heat flush her cheeks, Scully tucked her arms tighter to her body with a smile. She had to admit, it felt good to wear his shirt. “Thanks again. At least you won’t have to worry about me stretching it out or anything” They both chuckled softly as she watched him reach out, his fingers barely touching the fabric that hung at her waist. She couldn’t help the way her heart hammered in her chest and the way her breathing quickened in her throat. Scully dug her fingers into her own arm, physically having to fight the urge to just take that step closer and kiss him. “Well, goodnight Mulder” It was barely a whisper before she turned, her arms falling down to her sides.

“Wait, Scully”

It happened suddenly. One second she was turning to head back into his bedroom, the next he had pulled her back towards him by her waist, his face inches always as he looked into her eyes. She saw how dark his eyes were, how dilated they had become and she could feel the warmth spread between her legs again.

She could feel her resolve shattering as she sucked in a breath, her fingers reaching out to rest on his chest. This wasn’t right. He just needed her to stay. This was just so she wouldn’t leave him. It didn’t mean anything more to him than that...Right?

“Mulder, please. This is just because you are scared I’m still going to walk...You mean more to me than that Mulder. We’re just....friends-“

“Friends don’t do this type of shit Scully and you know it! Friends don’t have these feelings. Don’t use the excuse of what I said before because you know that’s not what’s happening here. I want you. So much that it kills me. And I know you feel it too because I can see it in your eyes” His hand tightened slightly on her hips, his eyes filled with such intensity that she felt like she couldn’t breathe. “If you don’t want his then please...tell me to stop” His voice was soft as he leaned in, closing the gap between them. It was the final restraint that snapped inside her as she arched onto her toes, crashing their lips together with a moan.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she moulded their bodies together, his hands reaching out to cup her ass causing her to gasp into his mouth. This should feel strange, having Mulder touching her like this, but she had never felt anything more natural. The kiss became heated as Scully felt his strong arms lift her up, her legs wrapping around his waist, her centre coming into contact with the growing erection in his jeans. Needing to breathe, Scully pulled back from the kiss, her forehead resting on Mulder’s as her fingers played with the tuft of hair at the base of his neck.

“I will never tell you to stop”

It was like a light switched in Mulder as he pushed their lips together again, teeth clashing together desperately as he began to move back towards the couch, nearly tripping over the coffee table before he almost collapsed back down, Scully using the moment to place her knees either side of him on the couch, her back arching as she straddled him.

‘Oh god, this is really happening’ Scully thought as she felt his hands slide under her shirt, tracing her spine as he pulled the material up with his hands, stopping with the material resting underneath her breasts. Mulder pulled back, hips lips swollen and glistening and his eyes begged for permission before Scully licked her bottom lip, reaching down to remove the shirt herself, tossing it behind her. She watched as his eyes dropped from her own to her chest, a rumble vibrating in his throat.

“God you’re beautiful”

Mulder used his arms to arch her back slightly on his lap so he could lean down, his nose brushing against her skin as he breathed her in, giving a soft kiss to the gold cross resting between her collarbones. Scully chewed on her bottom lip as she watched him, one hand reaching behind her to rest on his knee and the other running through his hair, urging him on. At a slight grip in his hair, Mulder took the hint and began running his tongue over her skin, causing goosebumps to appear on her flesh before he took a nipple into his mouth, Scully’s eyes closing at the sudden stab of arousal to her centre. Groaning, she pulled his head closer to her chest, her toes curling against the fabric of the couch, her hips moving ever so slightly seeking any friction she could get against the warm body beneath her, occasionally feeling the bulge in his jeans rub against her core.

Going from one nipple to the other, Mulder began to move his hips, his own arousal surging whenever Scully tugged at his hair or gave a throaty moan. Pulling away from her, his hands returned to her hips, his fingers digging in ever so slightly as he watched her move above him, a pink flush rising on her cheeks and down her chest. Reaching out, Scully tugged at his shirt, quickly pulling it over his head, her hips never stopping their movement, now only encouraged with his hands which were pulling her hips down harder into him.

Groaning, Scully slumped forwards slightly, feeling her arousal grow rapidly at the feeling of Mulder rubbing against her and the way their breaths mingled together, foreheads pressed against each other, their eyes open. Watching each other. It was the most erotic thing Scully had ever felt in her life and she knew she needed more.

“Please...I need you” Her voice was thick with arousal as her fingers played with his lips, a sudden throb in her core when he took a digit into his mouth, kissing it gently.

Mulder groaned as he gave a slight nod, pushing their lips together again as he ran his hands up and down her naked back before she shifted off of him, pulling him with her as she stood in front of the couch. Mulder made quick work of removing his jeans, letting them and his boxers fall to the floor as he watched Scully wiggle her underwear down her hips, the black material sliding down against her pale flesh. Scully licked her bottom lip as her eyes wandered over him, watching how his chest rose and fell with his quickened breath, how his nipples stood erect with arousal and her eyes finally settling on his erection. She had seen him naked before, even in a semi aroused state, but not like this. Not so unashamed and on display just for her. Her fingers reached out to touch him slightly, seeing arousal seep out of the tip which caused his stomach to suck in suddenly, a moan falling from his lips “Dana”

Looking back up to him she smiled, suddenly loving how her name sounded coming from his lips like this. She ran her fingers up and down his erection a few times before she kicked her underwear off from around her ankles, pushing him softly back against the couch. “Sit down” She whispered and smiled again with how quickly Mulder obliged, reaching out for her once he made himself comfortable against the fabric of the couch.

Scully intertwined their fingers as she stepped forward, her knees sliding once again either side of him, as she settled her hips down, feeling his erection sit between her legs, brushing against the cleft between her legs. Mulder’s hands reached up to cup her face, his thumbs running over her cheeks before he captured her in a kiss. It wasn’t rushed like before, but slow and languid, one that caused Scully to relax and sink down further, her hips moving slightly to allow him to slip in between her folds, rolling her hips to coat him with the wetness that pooled between her legs and only flowed more every time the tip of his penis hit her clit. Mulder groaned, his own hips moving of their own accord into a gentle rocking motion.

They kissed for what seemed like hours as the storm still raged on outside, just taking the time to get to know each other and how the tiniest of movements caused a moan before the teasing became too much and Scully finally reached down, her hips lifting up as her fingers wrapped around him, guiding his tip to her entrance. Looking into his eyes, she rested their already sweaty foreheads together as she lowered herself, sinking onto him slowly before she wiggled her hips, settled on him completely with a sudden and exquisite sense of fullness with him buried into her so deeply causing Mulder to groan.

“Fuck” Scully breathed out, her voice low and husky as her fingers rested on his chest, taking the time she needed to allow her body to adjust to him. She hadn’t been intimate with anyone but herself in a long time and even though she was more than ready and aroused for him, her body was still protesting somewhat against his size. Mulder’s breathing steadied once she was still and used the time to run his hands all over her body, his lips brushing the underside of her jaw as she tilted her head back, giving him all the access he wanted.

Her heart burst in her chest with how patient he was being, though she could sense he was struggling to keep still by the way he twitched occasionally inside of her and how his hips shook ever so slightly with his restraint. Sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, Scully arched up onto her knees slightly as she moved, letting herself rise off him until just the tip was left inside her before sinking down again, feeling every part of him rub against her inner walls. Mulder gasped slightly, his hands settling onto her hips, there to help and encourage her movements as she repeated them, making sure to rock herself against him when he was fully inside of her, the friction delicious on her clit on every down beat.

It didn’t take long for them to establish a rhythm, slow and hard, Mulder using his hands to push her down every time she sunk back onto him, each time Scully’s breath hitching in her throat. A strangled “Uhh” was all she managed to say, her brain short circuiting with the way his lips now sucked on the pulse point just behind her ear. Scully’s toes curled as Mulder shifted slightly, causing him to wiggle against her G-Spot, causing a pulse of electricity to shoot through her. “Do that again”

Mulder pumped his hips again, titling himself back a little in order to use the angle to his advantage to hit that soft spot inside her, rewarded with another grunt from Scully’s lips as she began to quicken her movements, leaning forwards so she could wrap her arms around his back, her nails digging into his shoulder blades as she kissed him again. He tasted saltier now they had began to sweat and Scully never wanted to stop tasting him because he just tasted so distinctly like Mulder. But it was becoming harder to breath the faster their hips moved against each other so Scully broke away, her forehead resting on his shoulder panting slightly. “F-Fox...”

She was close, she could feel the tell tale signs of how her stomach clenched and a warmth began to creep up from her toes. Mulder must have felt it too as he used one hand to reach between them, his fingers brushing against her clit just enough to cause her to let out a gasp, causing him to nudge her head back with his shoulder, his hips never stumbling in their movements. “Look at me Dana” Mulder grunted.

Scully pulled her head off his shoulder as she looked into his eyes, seeing them dark and his cheeks flushed with arousal. The way he looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing on her earth and the flick of his fingers against her clit was enough to push her over the edge. “Oh god...” Scully cried out, her eyes snapped shut as her head fell back, her orgasm rushing through her which caused her inner walls to pulse around him, her toes digging into the couch. Mulder held her tightly, his fingers and hips slowing down just enough to keep her pleasure going for as long as possible as he watched her, captivated with how beautiful she looked when she came.

Her orgasm seemed to go on forever and all she could manage to do was pant, her eyebrows frowned together and her body glad to have Mulder holding her to stop her from falling backwards. “You look so beautiful right now” Mulder whispered kissing the bared column of her throat as she smiled blissfully, giving him a groan of approval as she started to float back down to earth. Opening her eyes, she looked down at him and smiled again, one hand now resting on his chest and the other into his hair, angling his head to kiss her again before she began to move her hips once more, giving him permission to resume the pace he needed to push himself over the edge.

“Come for me” She urged him as she looked into his eyes.

Mulder understood and picked up his pace, his hands moving again to grasp her hips, his nails digging into her supple flesh. Grunting with the pace, Scully bit her bottom lip, pushing through the slight over sensitivity she was feeling between her legs, knowing that by the look on his face and the way his movements were uneven he was close. Mulder’s head tilted back as he began to pound up into her with a passion that took Scully’s breath away. Scully nipped at his jawline and that was all it took for him to snap his eyes shut and a low groan erupted from his throat.

‘Fuck, Dana...I-“ He didn’t manage to finish his sentence before his hands slammed her hips down onto him and his hips stilled. Scully gave a low moan as she felt him come inside her, his cock throbbing and releasing inside of her, a hot feeling spreading between her legs as she touched her fingers to his lips, using the muscles of her inner walls to pulse around him, massaging him to keep his orgasm going for as long as she could. Mulder’s eyes opened as he looked at her, a lazy smile creeping up onto his lips. Scully smiled in return as he kissed her fingers again, his fingers now running along the goosebumped flesh of her lower back.

Scully could feel him begin to soften inside of her, but she didn’t want him to leave her just yet. Leaning forward, she met his waiting lips in a soft kiss, her heart bounding in her chest. This certainly wasn’t what she thought would happen tonight but she couldn’t say that she hadn’t loved every second. She knew that they would have to talk about this, about how this would affect their friendship but right now she just wanted to lay here, feeling the most content she had felt in her life.

His arms wrapped around her back, pulling her flush against him as he kissed her forehead. She knew that no matter what happened in the future, she belonged right here in his arms with him inside her. This was where she needed to be and no matter what she would fight to remain with him for as long as she was alive.

“I’m glad you stayed”

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 13: Dreamcicle

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

“So, now what?” Mulder asks, scooting empty takeout cartons aside with his foot and propping his feet up on the coffee table.

He’d told Scully there was enough food for them to share, but he’s still hungry. He hopes she doesn’t hear his stomach growl.

“Now what, what?” Scully replies. She’s slumped comfortably into the couch cushions, head resting ever so slightly against his shoulder. He glances down at her and his chest aches.

“What comes next for us?”

She puts her feet up on the table next to his, delicate ankles crossed. “Do you mean tonight or in the general future?”

Mulder pauses. “Actually, both.”

“Well,” she says slowly. “I guess we have to figure out what all this means. How we want to proceed.”

Mulder nods. “Okay. For clarity’s sake… do you want to have a romantic relationship with me, Scully?” he asks carefully. “I’ve made it pretty clear how I feel, but I want to make sure I understand your side.”

She looks up at him then, cheek brushing his shoulder. “Yes, I do,” she replies.

His stomach swoops like a shore bird. “I, um, I’m glad to hear that,” he says, suppressing a grin. “That being established…” He coughs awkwardly. “Um. Do you want to have a sexual relationship? I don’t mean tonight. It doesn’t have to be right away,” he adds hurriedly, “But I think we should be clear about what a romantic relationship entails to each of us.”

Scully looks up at him like he’s grown a second head. “Mulder, do you think I don’t have sex with my romantic partners?”

He raises his hands. “Hey, I didn’t want to assume. After that bullshit with Mark, and what I know of Catholicism, I wanted to be sure-”

“Yes, Mulder, I want to have sex with you,” she replies, cheeks blooming a pretty pink. “I can’t believe you just asked me that,” she mutters.

He wonders if she hears his pulse quicken. “Okay, good to know.”

“I take it you want to have sex with me?” she asks, nudging his right foot with one of hers.

His body is practically humming at her words and close proximity. “I-I…”

“Don’t bother answering,” Scully cuts him off, almost smug, looking down at her hands. “It’s written all over your face.”

“Well, I’m glad we cleared that up,” he says, swinging his feet off of the coffee table and onto the floor. “So what were your evening plans, Dr. Scully? Before I threw a wrench in them.”

“It’s Thursday,” she replies, as though the answer is obvious. “I didn’t have anything on the agenda.”

He looks at her slyly. “Hm… you wanna make out?”

“Mulder,” Scully admonishes, voice stern and fond in equal measure. “That’s not exactly going slow, is it?”

“Fine,” he concedes, rising from the couch with a grunt. “Consolation prize: we go get ice cream.”

More accurately, he gets ice cream, in the form of a Drumstick with a caramel center. Scully opts for some unholy vegetable-based excuse for a dessert. It’s getting late, after nine PM, so they’d elected to just walk to the little market down the street from his apartment and pick from whatever they had laying in their chest freezer.

“What is that thing again?” Mulder asks, unwrapping his Drumstick.

“Nonfat Tofutti Rice Dreamcicle,” she replies. She hands him her wrapper, and he tosses them in the trash bin outside the shop.

“Shall we walk?” he asks, biting through the shell of nuts and chocolate covering his ice cream. “Or we could loiter outside, bum some smokes off of passersby.”

“Let’s walk,” Scully says, giving her fake ice cream a kitten lick. Mulder tries not to watch her tongue.

He fails.

“There’s a park a few blocks that way,” he says, motioning eastward.

The park is small, but peaceful, dappled with cherry trees clinging to their last blossoms. A lighted cobblestone path meanders through the foliage.

“I think we should set some ground rules,” Scully says, bumping his arm with hers as they walk. “Concerning how we interact while on the clock. We don’t want to give the Bureau any more ammunition against our partnership or our work.”

“Business as usual,” Mulder concurs.

“Yes. Our personal and professional lives should not mix,” Scully says. “And I think we should keep - whatever we are - a secret, at least for now.”

“Scully, are you suggesting we sneak around?” Mulder asks. “That’s pretty sexy.”

“I’m just saying we should be discrete, compartmentalize. Keep things professional when we’re in the office or on assignment.” She takes a last bite of her ice cream cone. “Nothing’s sexier than keeping our jobs.”

“You say that now,” Mulder murmurs, looping an arm around her shoulders. “But I can think of a few things-”

“Oh, I’m sure you can,” she cuts him off.

“I’ll show you sometime.”

“You think I won’t show you first?”

Mulder bites back a growl deep in his throat. She’s going to kill him at this rate.

They abruptly stop walking, standing in the middle of the path partway beneath a lopsided willow. “Mulder,” Scully whispers.

“Mhm?” he replies, eyes searching her face.

“I think you should kiss me now.”

His heart is pounding as he steps forward into her space. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this,” he warns her unnecessarily. He doesn’t put much stock in his interpersonal skills much of the time, but he knows he’s a good kisser. And her mouth is so plush and full-lipped, and he’s been dying to taste her-

He reaches out and slips one hand around her waist, the other around the back of her neck, drawing her closer as he leans down. Her upturned face is serene and pale in the night, a reflection of the moon, and he wishes he could slow time down and savor every millisecond of what’s about to happen.

Her eyes fall closed, and his follow, and then there’s nothing left in the universe but her small, warm body in his arms, her gentle exhale across his skin, and their lips meeting for the very first time.

Her mouth is cool and sweetened by dessert, and he can barely taste a hidden heat just beyond the seam of her lips. He feels he might drown in sensation, caught by irresistible currents pulling his body towards hers. He presses her closer, and it feels as though his palm could span her entire waist.

Scully loops her arms around his neck, angling her head slightly and parting her lips briefly before pulling away.

“That,” Scully whispers, almost in a daze. “That’s a spark.”

Mulder can no longer form words; he can only nod.

She slides her hands down his arms, grasping his hands. “Come here,” she murmurs, pulling him further beneath the canopy of willow branches. “One more.”

[sisterspooky1013]

Better Than Sex

Author: SisterSpooky1013

Rating: Teen and up

Words: 1666

Tagging: @today-in-fic

Read it on AO3

“Better Than Sex Cake” Mulder read aloud from the menu before looking across the table at Scully with his eyebrows raised in question.

They had just concluded an evening traipsing through an (alleged) actual ghost town, though no signs of ghosts were to be seen. Just a lot of graffiti, dirty mattresses and a used condom or two. Now they were sitting at the first diner they came across, Mo’s Café, and Mulder was considering the sex cake.

“Knock yourself out, Mulder, I’m sticking to coffee.”

“You aren’t curious as to whether this cake is, in fact, better than sex?”

“Well I’m sure it’s better than bad sex, but if it were better than great sex the population would die out because everyone would skip procreating and just eat cake.”

Mulder considered her statement. “Isn’t ‘bad sex’ somewhat of an oxymoron?”

She gave him an incredulous look. “Are you being serious?”

Now it was his turn to look incredulous. “The only bad sex is no sex, as far as I’m concerned.”

Scully shook her head ruefully. “Must be nice to be a man.”

Just then the waitress came by to take their order. Scully requested coffee and dry toast, while Mulder opted for coffee and the aforementioned sex cake. After she collected their menus and retreated to the kitchen, Mulder eyed Scully appraisingly, gaging her mood. Sometimes she was open and willing to talk about things of a personal or private nature, other times she kept her lips as tight as a steel trap. He suspected he might have a chatty Scully on his hands, and didn’t want to waste the opportunity.

“So, if I’m understanding correctly, Scully, there would be a circumstance under which you would choose a piece of cake over sex?”

She screwed up her mouth a little, not in consideration of how to answer the question, but whether to answer it at all. “Depends who the sex is with, I suppose, but yes, I could think of a few times where cake would have been a more enjoyable option.”

“Hm” was his only reply as he sat back against the seat of the booth, absorbing this information.

“Are you saying you’ve never had sex that was subpar enough that cake would have been better?”

He pulled in a deep breath and looked to the ceiling briefly, and she could imagine him running through his mental file of sexual encounters. “I don’t think so, no.”

“Is it wrong that I feel compelled to kick you right now?” She asked, just a hint of playfulness in her voice.

He laughed.“I’m not saying that every single time was Oscar-worthy, but even the worst was still better than some flour and butter.”

“And they say male privilege isn’t real” she deadpanned as the waitress came by to present them with two coffees, cake, toast and a tray of sugar and cream. She mixed the accoutrements into her cup while Mulder sipped his black, followed by a bite of the cake, which looked like a basic white cake with some kind of custard and whipped cream on top.

“This is pretty good, though I can’t say it lives up to its name” he said around the food in his mouth, pushing the plate towards her and holding out the fork suggestively. She took it and stabbed a small bite, meeting Mulder’s eye as she pulled the tines from between her lips. It was good, as most cake is, but nothing to write home about.

“Well?” He asked expectantly.

“Well what? She returned, wiping her finger at the corners of her mouth.

“Is it better than sex?”

She paused before answering, knowing that Mulder was going to keep picking at this until it got uncomfortable. He liked to do that, to see how far he could get her to go before she blushed and demanded they change the subject. He took immense pleasure in making her squirm, and even more in getting her to reveal something personal that he normally wouldn’t be privy to. Sometimes, she had as much fun indulging him as he did in goading her. She wasn’t above sharing something that she knew would shock him, just so she could see the look on his face. She liked that she could still surprise him.

“Not better than all sex, but certainly better than some of the sex I’ve had, regrettably.”

“What would make sex so bad that cake is better? I must know.”

“I think you can use your imagination, Mulder.”

“Come on, Scully, you could be saving some poor woman from ‘worse than cake’ sex with me in the future. Consider it an act of charity.”

She shook her head at him, but couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at her lips.

“Your answer lies in that drawer full of tapes that aren’t yours, Mulder.”

“How’s that?”

“Let’s see, sex starts when the man presents his erection and ends when he ejaculates. The woman howls like an animal no matter what he’s doing, though her orgasm is never mentioned. There is no foreplay. Would you like me to continue?”

He swallowed a mouthful of coffee he’d been holding, afraid he might choke. He’d never heard her speak so openly about sex before, especially not sex she had personally experienced, and though he’d been the one who initiated the conversation he was suddenly afraid he was going to have to walk out of this diner trying to hide a bulge in his slacks.

“Fair enough, Scully, but porn isn’t real. It’s like an action movie. No one actually hangs off the skids of a helicopter mid-air, it’s just fun to watch.”

“I’m glad to hear that you’re aware of that, Mulder, and I would implore you to spread the news to the rest of the male populace.” She punctuated her statement with a loud crunch into her toast.

Mulder’s mouth fell open slightly as he studied her, trying to tell if she was joking or embellishing.

“People really do that? Have sex like they do in porn? Men you’ve slept with?”

She rolled her eyes. “Mulder, if you’re going to sit here and tell me that you have never done that, even as a young man, I’ll have to call BS.”

He put his hands up in defense. “I’m not saying I emerged from puberty as Don Juan, but I don’t recall ever not being invested in my partner’s experience. I’m sure my skills were lacking at the outset, but I always tried.”

She looked at him derisively from under her eyelashes. “Well then, you really should get out there more, Mulder. Share your gift with the world.” Her voice was laden with sarcasm.

He laughed and ran his hand over the back of his neck. “How am I coming out to be the bad guy, here Scully? I’m not the one who gave you a ‘worse than cake’ lay.”

She smiled at him but her tone remained facetious “of course not, you’ve demonstrated that your skills in this area are unparalleled.”

“Damn straight!” He said with a slap of his palm on the table, and they both erupted into laughter.

They held eye contact as the laughter subsided, awkwardness descending over the conversation. He had made reference to the two of them having sex, which was a topic he’d only made innuendo about, never mentioned directly. Trying to break the tension, Scully finally spoke.

“Well, I guess you can see why I don’t bother dating.”

“I guess I can” he replied, swiping the last crumbs of cake off the plate with his finger.

“Why don’t you date, Mulder?” His expression registered surprise. “Or do you? I don’t want to be presumptuous.” She felt a pit in her belly at the idea that he may actually have a secret love life.

“No” he spat out, chuckling a little. “No, I definitely don’t date. It’s just too complicated I guess. I’m kind of a serial monogamist anyway.”

“Really?” Now it was her turn to be surprised.

“Yeah, for the most part. I’ve had a couple flings, but the vast majority of the women I’ve slept with I was in a relationship with. The emotional aspect is important for me.”

She studied him, imagining a version of Mulder who would be so considerate and giving. She didn’t need to imagine it, really, she’d seen it. While he was capable of being selfish and obtuse, he had also been incredibly tender and caring with her on many occasions. He had certainly shown a proclivity towards chivalry; opening doors for her, walking closer to traffic on the sidewalk, helping her into her coat or holding an umbrella for her. The idea that such gestures would extend into the bedroom was logical, but it still set off a stirring in her belly. In what other ways might he be so attentive to her needs? She swallowed the last of her coffee and tried not to think about it. Maybe later, but not here. Not now.

“Well, I hate to state the obvious here, Scully, but I don’t think you’re going to happen across the guy that will give you a 5-star experience if you never put yourself out there.” As soon as the words left his mouth he wanted to kick himself; why the fuck was he encouraging her sleeping with other people?

She smiled demurely and shrugged “for now I get my thrills from ghost busting and the occasional slice of really good cake.”

He bobbed his head and smiled back, pulling out his wallet and setting his bureau credit card on the tabletop.

In truth, she had already happened across that guy. He was sitting in front of her at a shitty diner in the middle of nowhere. And while she hoped that she may enjoy that 5 star experience in the future, for now just being in his presence, laughing and seeking the answers to the mysteries of the universe together, that was better than sex.

[fragilevixenfic]

The Darker Side of Love

Rating: M

Category: Angst/Post En Ami/Smut/Angry Sex

Summary: Mulder does not want to talk but he does not want Scully to leave, either.

“Betrayal stings in a bitter way but regret leaves an even bigger hole in a heart.” – Unknown

Edited/expanded from a piece written during Vicky’s (@frangipanidownunder on Tumblr) workshop focusing on specific words, tone, and mood to create a scene. Thank you for the fabulous beta work, Monika (@monikafilefan) and Kasey (@slippinmickeys). I’m eternally grateful for your insights.

I cannot let you burn me up,

Nor can I resist you.

No mere human can stand in a fire

And not be consumed.

-A.S. Byatt (Possession)

10:00 PM

Mulder had ignored Scully in the drive back from the empty offices, steadfast in keeping his eyes forward as she stared out the window. The expectation of an argument had gone flying by like so many drops of rain in the wind and renewed the dull ache in her heart as he drove right past her exit, opting for his own. Despite the anger written on his face, he wanted her next to him. He squeezed her hand only once before going upstairs and it felt more like pity than love. She pushed the emotions a little further down and stood in the doorway, watching him as he paced. Watching him as the pieces of his psyche finally began to crumble before her like a castle in the sand as the surf finally came to wash it away.

What have I done?

Scully held her palm to her lips as she stared at the physical representation of her failure; the manila folder Mulder onto the table and let every piece of paper fly across the lacquer top. They scattered onto the floor like so many hopes and dreams. They were now nothing more than nightmares manifested as Mulder tossed the disk onto the center of the mess, the glints of light reflecting darts of light across the ceiling, and heaved a heavy sigh as he sank against the cushions. She didn’t need the reminder of her self-inflicted catastrophe but he was providing it for her in the form of a massive printout of empty promises. There was already an ache in her belly and a lump up in her throat, and she swallowed the last of her nerves as she held a breath in. She wanted to be numb and run, but every nerve seared and tingled, pushing her to stay.

The leather squeaked and his eyes found hers but words wouldn’t come, like a punishment. His fingers twitched and knuckles went white as he squeezed air; it sent a chill down her back as she imagined who he was picturing on the other end of his fists. Something was burning behind those flecks of jagged gold and green that Scully didn’t want to decipher. Her tongue clicked the roof of her mouth as her eyes zoned out on the low, erratic bubbling of the fish tank. It was worse than any lecture and the wretchedness had already been doing the trick to her pneuma as she stared at the carnage of paperwork in front of him.

“Just say something,” Scully bit down hard enough on the corner of her lip that the taste went tinny and the first tear betrayed any hope of calm, coaxing a breathy sigh from Mulder.

Request not met. He’d set up camp in another non-committal night of no communication and anxiety; enough to make her blood pressure spike and make her cheeks go hot. Stalemate. Scully’s white flag went up as she felt the door staring at her back, willing her to just walk away and surrender. She teetered in her heels and grasped the molding as she heard the snap and skitter of his belt before her eyes could register the motion. Her gasp rivaled any sound Scully had ever made but it didn’t persuade more than a tilt of the head from Mulder. He leaned back as the sweat gathered along his brow. She recognized the distinct ember of change brewing beneath his lashes as he stared up at her.

“I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to think,” Mulder tossed the belt onto the finished surface with a resounding thud and pushed his fingers into the cushions, desperation in his eyes. “Not tonight.”

“Then what do you want?” Scully held her breath and took a step closer, letting his eyes set fire to her soul as he tilted his head to look at her. “Do you want me to leave? Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know,” Mulder shook his head and stood, moving past her like a tornado with his fingers wound through his hair. “No.”

The disappointment in his voice was killing her as she backed up until the curve of her spine touched the wall, watching his jaw clench and his eyes narrow toward the floor. He paced for a long, agonizing moment. The silence was deafening, maddening, claustrophobic, and the pressure against Scully’s back only added to the suffocation as the oxygen refused to leave her lungs. Her exhale came out in a rasp and a whimper, tugging his focus until he was peering into her embodiment, bulldozing the remainder of the barrier she had built to keep the emotions in check. Composure evaporated as she let her tears fall; the unmentioned ardor sweeping down her cheeks as she bit down on the edge of her lip.

Scully ran her palm along her chin, capturing the stray droplets as the word came out despite every effort not to say it. “Please…”

Mulder diminished the distance, enfolding Scully’s frame in his arms, he pressed his fingers against the small of her back and dragged the fabric of her long-sleeved, high neck top up. Scully breathed toward the ceiling as Mulder freed her from the confines of her top, pulling it up and over her head before discarding it in the direction of the couch. Mulder knelt, guiding her out of her shoes and undoing the button and zipper on her slacks, exposing the pale curvature of her hips and legs along with a matched set of pale blue undergarments. He looked up at her from her waistline as he leaned in and set his teeth against her skin until she twitched under his grip. A moan pushed her lips apart.

“I can’t…” Mulder manhandled her, gripped her backside as he stood and thrust his pelvis against her as her arms wrapped around his neck. “I need…”

“I know,” Scully couldn’t have been more aware of Mulder’s magnetism as she hiked her knee around his hip and felt the sting of the mahogany trim as it struck her shoulder blades.

Scully didn’t want soft and slow and she knew neither did he, as his erection uncomfortably pressed against the remaining layers of clothing between them, inviting her warmth as her inner thighs quivered just enough to make his eyes roll back. Mulder thrust again and the punctuated cry was marked by the involuntary tightening of her fingers through his hair. The swirling of energy nearly toppled him over. Mulder let her feet touch the floor and looked down at her small, capable hands as they undid his jeans and pushed them down toward his knees before sweeping the soft material of his sweater up and away from his torso. He stopped to gaze at her and sighed into the drafty apartment at the delicate beauty that he had become so enamored with; exasperation, however, had become a prevalent frame of mind.

The pause was short lived as Mulder let his motions become frenetic and haphazard. He shed the last layers of cotton blends away from alabaster and blush before wrapping his arms around her waist. Scully held onto the wall as his thighs pushed against her, slowly sliding his cock past her slick folds until he had filled her completely. Mulder craved her proximity as he guided her legs a little higher, reveling in the electric heat as his unrelenting thrusts picked up speed. The intensity continued to build until it finally vibrated both framed pieces of artwork off the wall. On an ordinary day, the thudding of their frames hitting the floor might’ve been enough to stop every thrust that Mulder had made…but not tonight.

“Do you even understand…” Mulder’s voice came out in a growl, the sweat dripping down his temples as he locked gazes with hers and pinned her wrists above her head, bottom lip trembling with every syllable. “At all?”

“I had to try,” Scully’s fingernails were wreaking havoc on his shoulders, leaving blistering marks as she held onto him and felt the weight of his anger, his frustration, his unyielding passion as it bruised her backside with every grind of his pelvis into hers. “I couldn’t…not…try.”

“I don’t know what I would’ve done,” Mulder had tears down his face, betraying the gruffness he was desperate to convey as he moved a little slower, bucking his hips just enough to coax a throaty moan from her. “If anything bad…had happened.”

“I know…Goddammit, I know,” Scully’s fingers moved to his cheek, reclaiming his tenderness as he drove into her again, impulsively, and hopelessly sought possession of her affection, despite never losing it to start with. “I know.”

He didn’t want an apology or a semblance of redemption. He tipped the metaphorical glass and heard his name called to the rafters; he wanted to go back to the moment before the clandestine invaded under the veil of a continuously lit cigarette and a shroud of smoke.

Thanking anyone who cares to peek at this. Tagging @baronessblixen @today-in-fic @reasonandfaithinharmony @dreamingofscully @wtfmulder for the extra love love.

[scullysexual]

s9 fic; time

post ep fic | post ep: the truth | season 9 | reunion sex | smut | msr | it’s 2am rn | ao3 | mature |

It slips from beneath her, gliding her down into a bottomless pit, like silk being pulled from under her. It’s nice and soft and wonderful. Scully falls down and down and down until she can think of nothing, until her brain is mush and her thoughts are empty. Until there is nothing. 

@today-in-fic

She had just had a baby when he came back to her, he left the day after. She woke up to her baby’s cries feeling him hard against her stomach and regrettably pulled herself away. There just hadn’t been enough time.

Now, here in this motel room, they have all the time.

He pulls on the knot of her robe but Scully stops him, hands on his wrists halting him. He looks at her, confused for a moment. She’s naked beneath this robe and to be bared in front of him whilst his clothes are still on feels wrong, feels too exposing. If they do this, they stay together at the same pace.

“You first,” she says. Her hands move down the planes of his chest, hooking beneath his t shirt and dragging it upwards. Mulder helps her when she can reach no further.

His chest bared, Scully gently drags her fingernails across his stomach, down towards his belt. He lets out a breath that sounds more like a supressed giggle and, in turn, it makes her smile, her eyes darting up towards his before looking back down to start her task.

As she undoes his belt, Mulder’s hands busy themselves in her hair; running through the standards, brushing them out the way. Her longer hair had become a curiosity of his recently.

She pops the button on his jeans, unzips his fly and pulls them downwards. When they reach the bottom, he steps out and kicks them to the side.

They both stand in their only piece of clothing separating their bodies, their final step.

She’s wondering which of them take off the article first when Mulder’s hands wrap around her elbows, pulling her closer into him. He lifts up her chin and presses a simple kiss against her lips and whispers.

“Together.”

Scully nods, her breathing turning into shaky breaths as her heart hammers against her rib cage. She has no reason to be scared but this all feels new as it was the first time and her body has changed so much from the last time he saw it.

His fingers hook on the ties and this time Scully doesn’t stop him, she lets him pull it undone. Her hands slip into his waistband and she drags it down his thighs while he pushes the robe off her shoulders. Simultaneously, the final article of clothing falls to the floor and they are both standing bare in the middle of the room.

The first thing Scully notes is that he is already half hard. The waiting and the build up had taken its toll. The second thing she notices is that he hasn’t changed a day and it just worsens her insecurities. The third thing…he has yet to say a word.

At that realisation, she covers herself as best she can, dropping her gaze from him and looking away.

“Don’t,” he finally says, reaching forward, a finger on her arm. “I want to see.”

Slowly, she drops her arms away.

His eyes are glued to her, scanning her body up and down as if struggling to see all of her at once.

Scully swallows and bites her lip, resisting the urge to cover herself again.

“So?” she asks. Her fingers knit together at her stomach. “Do you…like it?” It’s a stupid thing to say but words are lost currently.

“Jesus Christ, Scully.” he whispers in awe. His eyes finally look land on her face and reflected in his eyes can she see what he thinks. There’s nothing wrong with her.

She lets out a breath, a sigh of relief, a nervous laugh.

“I love you,” he says, his eyes scanning her body again, taking all of her in. “All of you.” He pulls her forward again, letting his lips claim hers. His tongue prods entry into her mouth and she allows him, letting their tongues explore each other after so long. Scully melts into him, feeling at peace and at home with him, not caring that they were many miles away from home.

His hands hook around the back of her thighs and he hoists up. Her arms wrap around his neck, legs wrap around his waist. He stops kissing her lips and presses his mouth against other parts, walking them towards the bed at the same time.

When she feels the mattress beneath her, she lets go of her hold of him, allowing him to place her down.

He stays hovering over her, his mouth kissing down her neck, her clavicle, dots kisses around her neck. Scully shuts her eyes, relaxes her body and gives over to the feeling of being worshipped and loved.

He presses kisses against her stomach before retracing his steps up her body, sliding against her side.

His fingers brush her hair away and Scully reopens her eyes.

“Hey,” he says with a smile.

“Hey,” she answers back. Her hand comes up to his face, a thumb smoothing against the skin.

“I missed you,” she says. Her finger trails along his nose, across his lips, relearning him as a blind person might learn a person by the contours of their face. In many ways, she has been blind for an entire year. Unable to see without him there.

He kisses her finger before it falls away.

“I missed you, too.” He places a kiss where her neck meets her shoulder, his fingers trailing along her collarbones, down to her breast. She lets out a breath when he circles her nipple with his finger, repeats the action on the other, clenching with a sudden need as his finger continues its path downwards.

“Mulder?” He looks at her. “I don’t want to wait,” she tells him. “Please.” It’s been too long, she just wants to feel them be together as one.

He hovers back above her, holding himself with one hand while the other disappears between her legs. Just the feel of his fingers have her wanting more. He spreads her wetness, makes sure she’s ready and she is.

“Been a while for both of us, huh?” he asks.

Scully had wondered. His time on the run, was he really alone or did he sought the company of somebody else? Well, that seems to be a no based on his statement. She shouldn’t have doubted it, Mulder feels too much for one night stands.

His penis, now fully hard, it’s tip at her entrance.

“Ready?” he asks.

Scully nods and his tip pushes in.

“Hard!” she’s quick to tell him.

He pauses and looks at her, searching for any signs of a change in mind. When he finds none, he shrugs and sheaths himself inside her in one thrust.

Scully lets out a cry that is equal parts a moan and a whimper, her eyes slamming shut. The feeling of him stretching her after far too long bringing both pain and pleasure.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice hoarse.

“I’m okay,” she answers. His stillness allows her to adjust to his size but what she wants more is for him to keep going, to never stop until she’s satisfied.

“You want me to go slow?”

“No!” She grasps for a hold on him, wrapping her legs around his waist.

His arms bracing him, he begins to move at a hurried pace, hips slapping into her own. Moans escape her and she let’s them, uncaring for who can hear her. The pain subsides, flowing into just pure pleasure, her hips moving in time with his thrusts.

Everything fades away. Just the feel and scent of Mulder is all she can focus on, the steady build of their reunion, she almost doesn’t want it to end, wants to prolong their coupling forever. She rides the waves of it, hands clenching the pillow as he goes deeper and deeper with each thrust forward. She wants to stay here, feeling this.

He jerks forward, a sign, bracing himself on her knee and slowly down slightly.

“Scully, I can’t…I need…” he pants, still holding himself back. He won’t come before her, without her.

She has no choice but to let it end. They have the whole night, they can spend as much time as they want doing this. They have time.

Scully nods and his fingers land on her clit, rotating clockwise. The stimulation has her gasping, jerking towards as he presses harder, rotates faster.

It slips from beneath her, gliding her down into a bottomless pit, like silk being pulled from under her. It’s nice and soft and wonderful. Scully falls down and down and down until she can think of nothing, until her brain is mush and her thoughts are empty. Until there is nothing.

[baronessblixen]

Hi ! Today is my birthday, and i'm in self isolation :/ I really love your fics. Could you write a birthday fic ? Maybe UST to RST ?

Happy birthday, anon! Sorry you have to spend it in self-isolation. I hope you will have a lovely day anyway ❤ I have written several birthday fics in the past and I’ll link them here: Birthday Surprises, You did this for me?, Birthday Cake

Tagging @today-in-fic

Here’s a ficlet for you! 

The knock on his door startles Mulder out of his lazy stupor. A glance at his watch tells him it’s 12.01 a.m. He rubs his eyes as he makes his way over to the door, wondering if his TV was on too loud again. Last week, Mrs. Heller took him aside and let him know in no uncertain terms that if she had to listen to another woman’s fake orgasm through the wall, she would call the police.

“I will turn the TV down, I promise,” he says as he opens the door, but is surprised to see his partner standing there instead of his neighbor. “Scully? Is everything okay?”

“Happy birthday,” she says, a soft, shy smile on her lips. She holds out her hands, presenting him with a pink cupcake liner full of sunflower seeds and a crooked birthday candle.

“It’s not my-“

“It’s after midnight,” Scully says, lifting an eyebrow. The sight, as well as her sweet gesture, makes him smile.

“Come on in.” Mulder touches her back to lead her inside his apartment. “You could have waited until morning, you know. What if I’d been asleep?”

She throws him a look as she takes off her shoes. So she’s planning on staying. He watches her, trying to catch up with her mindset. Part of him thinks he must be dreaming.

“I know you, Mulder,” she replies easily and walks into the living room. He sees her glance at his TV screen, at the now paused sex scene. She just chuckles and sits down on his couch. “Is that another one those videos that aren’t yours? I wonder who put it in your VCR. Must be a conspiracy.”

“Very funny,” he mumbles, quickly turning it off. She’s still smiling when he sits down next to her. “So, Scully, why exactly are you here?”

“It’s your birthday.” She points at the sunflower seeds and the candle.

“It would have still been my birthday eight hours from now.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she admits after a moment. “I was thinking of something you said to me once.” She avoids his eyes.

“I say so many things, Scully,” he nudges.

“You do,” she says, looking at him. “But this was about your birthday. You said that after your sister was gone… that you stayed awake all night, thinking that if you didn’t sleep, your birthday wouldn’t happen and you wouldn’t be reminded that she wasn’t there.”

He stares at the cupcake liner again. After Samantha, he stopped celebrating his birthday. It wasn’t always a choice; the first year after his sister’s disappearance, his parents forgot. After that, he decided it didn’t matter anymore. His birthday was just another day, another reminder that Samantha was no longer with them.

“I wanted you to have a happy memory.” Her voice is so soft that Mulder barely catches it.

“Thank you, Scully,” he whispers and then reaches for her, hugging her tightly and burrowing his face in her neck. She’s cool there, the cold, crisp autumn air still clinging to her. He breathes in deep until he just smells her underneath.

“I have an actual gift for you,” she says, running her fingers through his hair. “It hasn’t arrived yet. I only ordered it a few days ago.”

This is enough of a gift for him, he thinks. What else does he need?

“Don’t need anything else.” His words disappear into her skin.

“Oh, you need this,” she says with a chuckle.

“What is it?”

“You’ll have to wait and see. Why don’t you blow out your candle and make a wish?”

Reluctantly, he untangles himself from her. Her cheeks are red, look like they’ve been pinched. They have nothing on her half opened lips, though, beckoning to him.

“Mulder?” she says, drawing his attention away from her mouth. Well, she tries to, anyway. “Make a wish.”

There’s only one thing he wants tonight. He feels greedy for wanting it, for even thinking it, but he closes his eyes and blows out the candle.

“I hope it comes true,” Scully says and he turns to her.

“I hope so, too.” He takes her hand into his. “It’s my birthday, right?” She nods. “So if my wish were this…” Slowly, to give her enough time to stop him, to complain, he leans closer to her. She doesn’t move away. Instead, she moves towards him, meeting him halfway. Her lips against his feel like a promise. He feels like a new man; happy birthday, indeed.

“Was this your wish?” Scully murmurs against his mouth.

“Part of it,” he says, teasing her bottom lip. “It was a little less PG than this.”

“Hmm, then maybe we should move this party elsewhere. I know you have a bedroom, Mulder.”

“I do.” He kisses her again, needing to taste more of her. He’s never been patient and with her so close to him, with him being allowed to do this, no one can stop him. “But we have to be quiet,” he says, thinking of Mrs. Heller. The memory of his 70-year-old neighbor makes him cringe and his cock shrivel in fear.

“Why?” Scully, to his greatest joy, is as impatient as he is, her hand wandering under his shirt, brushing the waistband of his jeans and making him shiver.

“My neighbor,” he says in between kisses, trying to steer them towards his bedroom, “said if she hears another fake orgasm through my wall, she will call the police.”

“Oh Mulder,” Scully says, laughing against him. “I doubt anything she'll hear tonight will be fake.”

“Let’s go celebrate my birthday.”

They aren’t quiet.

[slippinmickeys]

The Earl (11/13)

BONUS CHAPTER I thought it might be fun to post the last chapter tomorrow morning for those holding out until it’s posted, so... I’m... filing Chapter 11. Chapter 12 will go up late afternoon/evening. To read on AO3, go here. 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Scully had fallen into a dreamless sleep, warm and feeling impossibly safe. Birdsong had started with the dawn, and as she sat up groggily on the small mattress on the dusty floor, she smiled to herself. She would see Mulder soon. Her nightmare was at an end.

She rose from the pallet and tried dusting off the dried mud and dirt from the hem of her frock, but it was useless. This particular dress was likely ruined. Not that she would be sad to see it go. It could burn for all she cared.

She pulled out all the hairpins from what remained of her coiffure, running her hands through her hair as best she could. The long auburn locks which, when unbound, flowed lushly halfway down her back (one of Mulder’s favorite things, or so he had said to her in the heat of passion), had some luster to it and still smelled faintly of lavender. On a whim, he had bought her aluminum hair pins at a shop in the village of Ashford when the guests from the estate had alighted there one rainy day last week. She remembered him kissing her hair softly and telling her he was sparing no expense. She smiled to herself and tried to tame her locks into something resembling presentable respectability, plaiting and then pinning it up. The Countess wanted to look as best she could for her Earl.

The fire had burned itself out in the hearth, but the hut was still warm, and getting warmer by the minute as the sun streamed in through the tiny window pane on the far wall. While she waited, she closed her eyes and named to herself various chemical compounds and their respective weights -- something she used to do to pass time while doing needlework or attempting to (badly) play the pianoforte.

In 1801 Joseph Proust announced that every chemical compound has a fixed and definite composition; that when substances unite chemically they do so in definite ratios by weight -- then came John Dalton four years later, with the second great law of combination, which had come to be called the law of multiple proportions. Dalton introduced atomic theory into chemistry, and now the great problem was to determine the relative weights of the atoms. The most eminent scientific minds (men, naturally ) gave their attention to the determination of the atomic weights and of the arrangement of the atoms in compounds. She had read everything she could on the subject, fascinated by the idea of everything in the universe existing on such a small, basic scale. Protons. Neutrons. In the end, everything came down to attraction.

Even she and her husband, she thought. Especially she and her husband. When she tired of chemistry, perhaps next she would study biology. Though, she thought with a flush, they did a near nightly biological case study. Man. Woman. Attraction. Sex.

She was roused from her thoughts by the sound of approaching hoofbeats and moments later, she heard Alex’s voice approaching the hut’s small door.

“She’s in here,” she heard him say, and then the door opened and he strode through it, looking a bit different than he had last night in the light of the single candle.

“Alex,” she said warmly, but when he turned to her, he did so with a sneer, hair curling over his forehead in a rakish way, his eyes cold and almost obsidian in color.

“She’s awake,” he said without feeling to some unknown person just outside the door, the figure looming in the doorway, blocking out the sun. Mulder?

She heard the strike of a match and then saw the cold creep of tobacco smoke purl in the air through the small space, hitting her nose in one acrid punch.

“No,” she whispered, gritting her teeth with fury.

XxX

She came to consciousness in the back of Spender’s carriage once again, the sense memory sinking through her veins like lead. Her head pounded, and when she brought her bound hands to her temple on instinct, she found an enormous goose egg and the crusted, sticky remains of dried blood. She groaned.

The carriage leaned ever so slightly to the right, its wheels making a fairly sharp turn onto a bumpy road. She finally glanced up to look at the man sitting across from her.

There was rage pouring from his eyes and his nostrils were flared. The leather of the gloves he wore creaked in the air between them as he squeezed his wolf’s head walking stick. He raised it and pointed it at her.

“There will be no new opportunities for escape,” he barked, looking at her intently. He opened his mouth to speak further when the carriage lurched to a stop. He didn’t wait for Alex, who’d been acting as coachman, to open the door, but flung it open himself, then leaned back in to grab Scully by her bound hands, pulling her bodily out of the conveyance so quickly that she stumbled when her feet hit the ground.

She barely had time to look around before he was pulling her along behind him toward a small, ancient cottage that was tucked back amongst some trees. She had just gotten a glimpse of the sand-colored manor house she’d been kept in previously before she was tugged through the doorway of the cottage in the woods. The manor house was not far away, down a long, winding path littered with weeds and wildflowers that didn’t look like it got much use. Spender pulled her inside and slammed the door behind them.

She braced herself when he grabbed his walking stick with both hands, but instead of striking her, he pulled at the silver wolf’s head and withdrew a long blade, triangular and sinister, its blade darker than any metal ought to be.

She took a step away from him.

He smiled at her, an evil-looking grin, and Scully was reminded of the skeleton presiding over Hell in Jan Van Eyck’s The Last Judgement . She thought of demons. Of serpents and bats. “Hold out your bindings,” he said to her.

Tentatively, she held out her hands. He grabbed them roughly and used the wolf’s head dagger to cut the knots from her wrists. When the cloth fell away, she took a relieved breath, only to be startled into a gasp when he struck, quick as a viper, and grabbed her by the hair.

“Our games are at an end, Lady Wexford,” he hissed, his mouth mere inches from her own. She grabbed at his hands, but he twisted them harder, and she could hear the hairpins falling from her head and tinkling merrily onto the slate floor. “Your husband will pay.”

With that, he began cutting at her hair with the dagger, sawing and hacking at it until the whole thick plait came off in his hand. Her scalp felt as though it were on fire.

She raised her hands up to feel the unevenly shorn hair that now ended at her chin, and the cottage’s door slammed shut with a loud, metallic chink. He was gone.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Alex and Queen had returned from the coaching inn after several days with no news.

“I fear the proprietor knows nothing,” the footman had told Mulder, sadly, “and there have been no guests matching the description of your Mr. Spender.”

Mulder had given him his thanks and told the man to get some rest.

Later that day, a scream wret the air from the entrance of the house. Mulder catapulted down the stairs to find a maid with a hand to her chest sitting on the floor in shock, another maid holding her other hand, trying to calm her. The Butler, Mr. Headly, was hovering over them both and Mulder noticed a large box with the lid half-off sitting just inside the manse’s door.

Byers, Frohike and Langly all came skidding onto the scene only moments behind him.

“The… the Countess,” the prone maid said, shakily pointing to the box.

Mulder moved forward, awash with dread. When he pushed aside the lid, there, sitting inside of it like a coiled snake ready to strike, sat the long, thick plait of Scully’s titian hair.

He recoiled, falling back momentarily, then moved forward again, lifting it up and out. The end of the hair that had been cut had not been trimmed gently or with finesse, but rather hacked at, likely with a sharp, short blade. It must have been painful for her.

“Who delivered this?” Mulder asked. “Who?!”

The maid to whom he’d spoken leaned back in fear, and he took a breath in order to calm himself.

“Mary,” Byers said calmly, and the young woman looked to her employer.

“There was no delivery, sir,” she finally said, “I was going about my duties and there it was, sitting inside the front door.”

Everyone looked to Mr. Headly.

“She is quite right,” he said calmly, “there have been no deliveries today. Nor yet any post.”

Mulder brought himself to his full height and addressed no one, staring straight ahead. “He’ll die for this,” he said with controlled wrath. He then stalked off, leaving the smell of lavender in his wake.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Scully stared at the back of the door, running her hands through her now-short locks. It felt so odd, but it was also a bit freeing, she thought, and her head felt pounds lighter. She bent down and collected pins that had escaped onto the floor, setting them in a pile on a nearby table, and placing a few in the fringe near her forehead to keep it out of her face.

She took a turn about the room. She tried the door, just in case. Locked and secured from the outside.

The cottage was old, made of thick stone, the windows tiny and set far back in the walls -- she’d have no hope of climbing through one. There were three rooms -- the one she was in near the door that seemed to serve as great room and main living space. A small bedroom just off that, supplied with a small, rough hewn bed and straw-filled mattress, covered with a single woolen blanket. The third room was a kitchen, with a large fireplace and old monstrous table that bowed in the middle from year’s worth of scrubbing. There were bottles and crockery that lined two large shelves, and a small scullery. The scullery seemed fairly well stocked, as was the kitchen, where on the table sat two fresh loaves of bread and several hunks of cheese, a small bowl of apples, three lemons and a large bowl of eggs. An extra circuit around the kitchen and she found three pails full of water that she moved onto the main table -- she covered each with a large plate to keep out dust and debris. It was looking like she would not be fed, but would have to feed herself with what was left here. Very well, she thought. There was enough food and water for a week. Perhaps more.

She wondered what Spender’s plan for her was. Was it only ransom he was after? If so, Mulder would surely pay it.

She snooped through the scullery, taking inventory. There she found a decent quantity of concentrated lye, five candles, two small bottles of kerosene (but no lamps), a bar of Pears soap, a large glass bottle with a heavy cork stopper that smelled as if it had once contained either wine or vinegar, several empty crockery bottles of various sizes, two bottles of whisky, matches, chalk, salt, and a small bottle that appeared to be turpentine, but that she couldn’t get open.

In the main room there was a single shelf on which sat several books, all in either French or Latin. So she would not go completely mad with boredom.

There was no wardrobe and so no other changes of clothes, though she could probably launder what she had in the large pot in the kitchen fireplace (which was well stocked with wood, she was pleased to see). She was suddenly thankful that Duane Barry had walked her through the process.

He was a sad sort of man and easy to manipulate and she could see how he’d been an easy mark for Spender. He was shy and unworldly, had trouble even meeting her eye. Why, all it had taken was for her to mention her courses and he was practically blithering, and had seen her outside without so much as-

She stopped short. Her courses. She had been in captivity for several days now, and had been at Byers’ estate for more than a week… She did the arithmetic in her head and then did it again. She was late. Alarmingly so.

She took a breath and brought a hand low over her stomach. Her heart began to pound. Oh, Mulder . Perhaps she was not alone in this cottage after all.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder thought back to the last time he had seen Scully -- had he known then it would be the last time, he never would have left.  

He had his hand on her breast, and was thrusting into her gently from behind. In the many weeks since their marriage, her body had learned to accommodate his, and he met little resistance as he slid into her with a hiss of satisfaction. This was lazy lovemaking, both of them half asleep in the dim light of morning.

“I do not need to hunt today,” he finally spoke, nuzzling his nose into the delicate skin behind her ear, “for I have found Artemis, and she is here in this bed with me.”

Scully gave a little moan and then pressed back into him, a signal he was beginning to learn meant that she wanted more.

“I-” she stopped to take a breath “I don’t believe the Goddess of the Hunt is anywhere near here, Mulder,” she said breathily, “for she is also the goddess of wild animals and vegetation and ah-” Mulder had thrust into her with more force and he could feel her muscles clench around him, “and… chastity.”

“Chastity?” Thrust. “Perhaps you are right.” Thrust. “Here before me is Aphrodite, and her sea-foam eyes.”

It was then that Scully reached her peak, and he ascended with her, grabbing onto her hips tightly and burying his face into the silky mane of her hair.

She rolled away from him onto her stomach moments later and turned to assess him with half-lidded eyes. She licked her lips, her movements slow.

“Aphrodite may have been born from the foam of the sea,” she said lazily, “but I rather did always like Artemis best. I pictured her similar to Boudica, with a sword in one hand and a bow in the other.”

“A sword in one hand, eh?” Mulder asked, nudging her with a finger.

“They say she is the strongest of them all, for she not only oversees chastity but also childbirth.”

“Chastity and childbirth? A confusing combination.”

Scully laughed, a delicious peal through the air of the room.

Mulder rolled out of the bed and pulled the bell to summon Danny to help him dress.

“Perhaps she’ll be with me today,” he said, “and I shall bring back our dinner, the fattest of the lot for my goddess.”

Scully smiled at him and rolled over to go back to sleep, her hair like a cape of spun gold fanning the pillows behind her.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Scully looked at her reflection in one of the pails of water. It was not… altogether atrocious. Her hair looked rather like a farmboy bob, and she was certain that someone with cleverer hands than she could do something with it, even for more formal events… perhaps pin it with pearls and feathers. But. That was a problem for a different time. For now, her only concern was keeping it out of her eyes while she worked.

She had spent the whole of the night alternately thinking of the babe that perhaps was even now growing in her belly, and the problem of how she was to save them both. She had determined as she lay looking at an unfamiliar ceiling that she would not let CGB Spender control her or her fate.

Firstly, she needed to put an end to her imprisonment. And then… Well, then she needed to put an end to Spender and his evil machinations. Duane Barry might yet help her again, but Scully suspected that Barry had been relieved of his prisoner oversight duties, or worse. What with the supplies of food and water that had been left in the cottage, and Spender’s warning: “There will be no new opportunities for escape,” the likelihood that there might be anyone she could overtake or convince to help her were not good. It was up to her to save her own skin.

And perhaps also that of her child.

XxXxXxXxXxX

After the Countess's hair had been discovered, the mood around Ashford Park was... penultimate, thought Frohike. Though the day was clear, it felt as though something was brewing. And when the storm broke, well, there was no telling what damage would be wrought.

Mulder had begun ranging further and further afield, riding his horse to every farm, every tenant, every public house and hen house in search of his wife. He was a man possessed.

Frohike was exiting the library, which happened to be nearest the back staircase that came up from below stairs, when he saw a maid coming up the stairway and rushing off into the house. The look on her face was excited intrigue, which was enough to incite the same feeling in himself. On a whim, he turned toward the stairway that led below stairs and followed them down.

The hallways were narrow and labyrinthine, and there were members of Byers' household staff huddled together in gossiping circles, paying no attention to the erstwhile gentleman who walked among them.

"Go and get Mr. Headly. This very minute!" he heard from around a corner. A scullery maid went running past him and when he rounded the corner he came upon the Cook patting a man's hand and pressing a cup of tea into it.

"Now, Duane, where have you been?" she asked kindly.

Frohike's eyes widened.

"Duane?" he said, "This is the groom, Duane Barry?" he asked excitedly.

Cook nodded at him. "He's..." she started, "he's not himself. He says he'll speak only to the Earl. Not even Sir Byers, his own master!" She sounded scandalized.

Frohike turned and ran from the kitchens, launching himself through the scullery and on out the door to the back of the estate, running toward the stables for all he was worth. He skidded inside.

"The Earl,” Frohike was breathless from running. Several grooms stood around looking at him in alarm and confusion.

“Sir?” one of them asked.

"Where is the Earl?" Frohike gasped.

"He rode west, sir."

"Find him, now. Which of you is the best rider? Tell him that Duane Barry has returned."

One of the groom's eyes flashed wide and he nodded, and not a minute later, as Frohike was walking quickly back toward the house, was galloping out of the stable yards and toward the western fields.

Frohike trotted up the stairs of the manse and let himself in the door, waiting not for the butler or even a footman. When he rounded the corner that led to the drawing room, he heard his friend's voice, raised in anger, verging on hysteria:

"Did you hurt her?!"

"No!"

Frohike walked through the doorway and found Byers and Langly standing close to the former groom Duane Barry, who sat in one of the chairs, his face a frightened mask.

Langley grabbed the man’s hand and raised it. He pointed to blood on the man's cuff. "What is this?!"

"I'm sorry," Barry said. "I had to take her. I hope he's not hurting her. I'm sorry."

"Where is she?!" Byers shouted.

"I... I'll tell the Earl. Bring me the Earl, and I'll tell him."

Langly threw up his arms in frustration and Byers, looking as steely and angry as Frohike had ever seen him, brushed past Frohike in the doorway of the room, Langly on his heels. He turned to the handful of servants that had appeared in the hallway, mainly maids, and Wexford's footman, Alex.

"Nobody goes in or out of that room," Byers said. The footman nodded at him and took station at the closed door, standing tall.

Mr. Headly appeared as Byers was walking with purpose toward the main stairway.

"Where is the Earl?" Byers asked his man.

"I don't know, sir-"

"Find him!" Byers barked.

Langly drifted to Frohike's side.

"I have never seen him like this," his business partner said, "I am impressed."

Frohike couldn't help but agree. Not ten minutes later, Mulder burst through the door of the manse out of breath and smelling of horse. He grabbed Frohike by the shoulders.

“Barry?” he said, “Barry has returned?”

Frohike nodded encouragingly. “And has word of the Countess’s location, apparently. He’ll tell only you.” Frohike gestured to the door of the drawing room where the footman Alex had been standing guard. He was no longer there, and the door to the room was ajar.

Mulder stumbled through it with Frohike hot on his heels. Both men pulled up short.

Barry was on the ground, and Alex was leaning over him.

"What happened?!" Mulder asked, taking several halting steps into the room.  

"He was gagging," Alex said, leaning back on his heels. “I tried to help.”

The man was lying upon the ground, gasping for air. Mulder ran to him. “Duane!” Mulder said, kneeling beside him. Frohike skidded to the man’s other side.

Barry, his eyes wide and still gasping for air, looked once at Mulder beseechingly. Then he took one almighty breath, his entire body spasming once, and exhaled, slumping to the floor. Frohike could tell just by looking at him -- the man was dead.

“Duane!” Mulder said one more time and then stood in a daze. His eyes cast about the room. “Alex, what hap-” he paused, mid-sentence.

The footman was gone.

[frangipanidownunder]

Hi! Same anon re: Healing/Supernatural Burns. In case it further helps to jog memory, you publish it on AO3 on Oct 7th, 2018. And on your Tumblr on October 3rd, 2018. I have my fingers crossed! Thank you so much for trying. I just love your stories!

Here you go anon.

Superficial Burns: fic

NSFW. Season six, angry sex around One Son.  Follow up, called  Healing, is here.

She’s not sure what comes after rage. The door is still shuddering against the jamb. The low light from the lamp in the living room casts a pale golden glow that seems too beautiful, too ethereal for the moment. Her wrists ache from tension and she releases each finger with a pop, flexing her hands open as she slings off her jacket and kicks her shoes across the floor. 

He’s behind her before she realises what’s happening. She’s certain he didn’t knock. His hand is still in his pocket and his face is dangerously shadowed. The cut of his cheekbones, the narrowing of his eyes, the purse of his lips gives him the look of an assassin.

“Why are you here, Mulder? I didn’t think you were interested in anything I had to say.”

He throws his gaze to one side, like he’s batting away her words.  

She turns her back on him and heads to kitchen. She knows he hasn’t moved. He wants her to do the running, he wants her to break the silence, he wants her to say she’s fucking sorry for saying what she said about Diana. The kettle hisses.  

The burn of humiliation is still running as hot through her veins as the splash of water on her skin. She curses and presses the back of her hand to her lips and sees him in her periphery. His anger is coursing off him. External. Hers is locked inside. 

She reaches for the box of Earl Grey. Her sweater lifts from her waistband and she feels the cool air rush against her skin of her back. When she turns back he’s pressed against the door, arms above his head, staring at her. His eyes rake over her body but he says nothing. 

Her guts twist. Conflict blisters at her and she itches the spot on her hand where the boiling water splashed. She wants to scratch out the doubt, the guilt, the fucking satisfaction she’s feeling at seeing him seethe. Take your fucking beautiful face and tell your ex-partner about how badly you’re treated, how nobody gets you, how trust is the only truth now. 

“Haven’t you got somewhere to be, Mulder?” She sips her tea to hide the tremble in her lips. He moves off the door but doesn’t walk any closer to her. She wants to tell him to run to Diana. She knows he will. But he fills the place in front of her door so well. 

“Are you going to quit?” he says eventually. Like it’s any of his business. Like he cares anyway.

She leaves him without an answer. Finishes her tea. The sting of her burned hand throbs. 

“You should cool it off under cold water, Scully.” He takes a step towards her and she suddenly feels ripped open, like he can see insider her. “Burns can leave a nasty scar.”

“They’re just superficial,” she counters. 

He reaches to take her hand and his fingers are surprisingly cool. His touch is light around the red marks and she holds her breath as he presses his lips to her knuckles. 

“Why are you here?” she says again, but the force of anger has left her. There’s a pull at the back of her knees, and she locks them just to stay upright. She won’t fucking cry. The pad of his thumb rubs at the skin between her thumb and forefinger.

“I’m here because I was worried about you.” And he’s telling the fucking truth, damn him. 

She tips her head back and her neck grinds. She laughs. And she cries. She leans into him and cries against his chest and he lets her and it fucking hurts. It hurts that he’s so close and so distant. That he’ll comfort her then run to Diana. That he dismisses her fears but would swallow them down for her.

“I hate you sometimes,” she whispers and he grabs the words from her mouth with his. His teeth press into her lips and his nose is buried into her cheek bone. She can’t breathe but she relishes the dizziness. Her calves strain as she tiptoes to kiss him harder. The sides of her hands hammer at his chest. 

“You can’t leave, Scully.” He slides his knees between her thighs and the friction of fabric against her centre is so delicious she yelps. He growls and rids her of her skirt. She unbuckles his belt and tugs his zipper down. He’s warm and hard against her palm and she strokes him through the fabric of his boxers. His hand covers her breast through the wool of her sweater, squeezing, then slips underneath pushing her bra cup up and pinching her nipple.  

“You’re frightened of being left on your own, Mulder,” she says and his fingers fit under the seam of her panties, snug, delving and dipping so that she can only buck against him.

The grind is slow, deliberate, teasing. His fucking arrogance is supreme and it fills her with equal measures of hot rage and pulsating need.

“God, Mulder, this is so wrong.”

The door clicks behind her as he cups both hands under her ass and lifts her. She wraps her legs around him, not caring about the dig of his jeans fly into her flesh, about the knot of wood at the base of her spine. She braces one arm against the cool timber and slips the other round his neck. His shoulder covers her face so that she is breathing in the leather of his jacket with each thrust. It burns in the most pleasurable way. She hisses and he bites into the roll of wool at her neck. 

He shudders to his climax all too quickly with a rambling tirade of sorryScullyIcouldn’tstopmyselfsorryScully and he lets her down with trembling hands. Her head feels strange, heavy on her shoulders. Her legs are shaking. The skin on her hand stings again. She doesn’t know where to look but he’s already zipping himself up, moving past her to open the door.

“I have to go,” he says, “I’m sorry, Scully.” She bends to pick up her skirt, holding it to her chest as the sound of his footsteps fades. 

When she answers the phone to Jeffrey Spender, she wonders if Mulder’s already at Diana’s. And she finds out what comes after rage as the flame of disappointment heats her blood.

[danadeservesadrink]

Gin and Tonic

The sequel to Wine and Whiskey is here! AND its part of the XF First Dates challenge created by the lovely @starwalker42 ! Hope you all enjoy! Also tagging @today-in-fic

Rated T, 4320 words, read on AO3 here

This is awkward.

She can’t help but think it for the fourth time since she’d walked into the office this morning. He was already lounging at his desk when she had come in, her cheeks still flushed from the harsh autumn breeze. Her heels had clicked through the open doorway and she spotted him first, his feet propped up on the desk, lazily sharpening a pencil, staring off at some papers he’d tacked up on the corkboard. But he heard her and spun in his chair to face her, the dying buzz of the sharpener giving way to silence.

Awkward. Silence.

She knew that continuing to work together after the events of Friday night wouldn’t be simple. She knew when he left her on Saturday, kissing her gently against the door and promising to see her on Monday, that it would be impossible to forget the softness of his lips and the way he tasted. Logically, the fundamental shift of knowing what his naked body looked like on top of hers made things anything but simple.

But she had hoped they would somehow make it simple. It was them, for God’s sake, he was her best friend, her partner. Sleeping together couldn’t ruin that for them.

Clearly she had vastly overestimated her ability to compartmentalize.  

They had stared at each other for a solid two minutes before she even made it through the door frame. It was impossible to read his thoughts, but by the crease in his brow and the way his eyes repeatedly drifted south of her own, she could only guess that they were of a similar nature to hers. And her own thoughts were resulting in a blush that was very much not due to the chilled breeze.

Compartmentalization was a practiced art, and boy did the pair of them have practice. Sure, when she first walked into his office she had allowed herself the momentary thought as to what his strong hands would feel like touching more than the small of her back, but those thoughts were easily shoved to the back of her mind as inappropriate fantasies, reserved only for midnight phone calls with Melissa and when she was feeling particularly wound up by him. That was also 7 years ago. She would have thought she had matured since then.

But today she found that throwing away the thoughts of him on top of her was much more difficult when they were no longer simply a fantasy.

She had allowed herself one more moment to fight the urge to leap into his lap from across the room and repeat the events of Friday night, and then walked into the room with no further glances to the man behind the desk.

This is a workplace, for God’s sake, and you’re both adults. Keep it together.  

The tension she could deal with. It was the silence that made everything so weird.

He didn’t even say good morning to her, let alone say her name for the first hour. The only words exchanged were those regarding the locations of paperwork, and even those conversations were shortened from their usual banter.  

He broke the dead air once and asked her how her weekend was. She actually saw him wince at the stupidity of his own question, and spared both of them the discomfort of her answer by keeping her attention fixed on her expense report.

He was impossible not to look at, though, and she found herself glancing up at him every so often just to see him staring at his own reports. Maybe she was hoping to see him staring back at her, at least give her some indication that what had happened between them was affecting him the same way. Plaguing her thoughts with constant flashes of his tongue lapping at the dip of her clavicle, drifting lower…

But he seemed much more interested in whatever X-file he was studying today.  

They got a phone call at 10:00 and he leaned over the desk to answer at the same time she reached for it, immediately causing the both of them to retract their hands like the phone was now magically on fire, their eyes shooting up to meet each other in a panic at the mere possibility of skin to skin contact. It rang again and they sat in stalemate until Mulder tentatively reached over again to answer, still maintaining eye contact until Scully returned to biting the nails off the hand that almost betrayed her professional exterior.

And now, she was stuck to her seat, frozen while she tried not to inhale the strong scent of Mulder that had suddenly overcome her, ripping her thoughts straight from expenses and back to the taste of Moscato and Jack Daniels. Apparently, he decided he needed a case file immediately and instead of asking her to grab it for him, had invaded her space to reach right over top of her to grab a stack of folders on top of the cabinet.

He must not have realized the effect he had until he stepped back with his files and she released the air she’d been holding in, attempting to mask it under the guise of a sigh but obviously failing. He stood with his arms full of papers and a perplexed look on his face that almost made her laugh if she wasn’t so embarrassed. Eventually he turned, dropped the stack on his desk, and seemed to gather his thoughts before turning back to her.

“Do you have any plans tonight?” he spoke quickly, not really meeting her eye. It took her a second to realize he was talking to her. When she did, she looked up, eyebrow raised at his sudden directness.  

“I usually call my mom on Mondays, but that's really all.”

“Oh, ok.” She can see the disappointment written across his face, but it was him who brought it up, so it felt rude to presume where he was going with this. She waits a beat and realizes he’s not going to continue, so she takes pity on him.

“I can reschedule. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

His smile lights the room, and for just a moment everything is simple again.

“Let’s get dinner”, he says, stepping closer to her, and she finds herself sitting taller in her chair in response.

“Sure, my place or yours?”

“I was thinking we could go out”

Oh. Oh.

She hadn’t considered this. She thought that maybe he’d want to see her again, maybe under the pretense of a movie night or even some late night casework. But Fox Mulder asking her out to dinner was something she hadn’t quite prepared herself for.

Is it a date? Like an actual dinner date, the kind regular couples go on? Does this mean he wants to date her? What does that mean? What does any of this mean?

Immediately overwhelmed with questions, her mind reeled. He’s asking her out and he’s looking at her like that again and this is entirely inappropriate for their basement office but so ridiculously them that she finds herself charmed despite her best intentions.

“Sure. Yes. Where?”

She’s babbling on, blush rising through her cheeks again, and he notices, his smile growing.

“How about that bar, Hanks? I’ve heard they make a mean salad.”

He again steps towards her, and in the small space of their office he ends with their knees almost touching. She looks up into his eyes and suddenly is devoid of all thoughts other than those keeping herself from grabbing him by his tie and pulling him down into her, paired nicely with thoughts telling her to do exactly that.  

“That does sound nice,” she whispered. “What time were you thinking”

“We could just head over there whenever we finish here?”

“Ok” she says, and she hopes he can’t hear the anticipation in her voice. He looks like he might bend over and kiss her, right there in the center of their office, and she thinks she’s very ok with that scenario, but he hesitates.

“Great.” he says, and leaves her space to return back to behind his desk. The furniture lended itself as a barrier to dull the ever increasing pull between them, and her heart rate returned to resting levels. As an afterthought, he mumbled to himself something that she didn’t quite catch, but sounded an awful like “It’s a date”.

“What?” she asked, and it was his turn to blush.

“Nothing, sorry,” he muttered, proceeding to bury his nose back in his files.

It was going to be a long day.

-

They remained in agonizing silence for the remainder of the day, both spending more time glancing up at the clock than actually getting any work done. Mulder casts the occasional glance in her direction, hoping to maybe catch her eye for some reassurance that he hadn’t completely fucked up, but consistently she was focused on her notes, occasionally pressing the pen to her lips in concentration, tapping it a few times there, then resuming her writing.

He didn’t know how she was doing it, staying so calm and professional. The second she’d walked into the office with that windswept look on her face he’d had the fight the urge to cross the room and press her up against the door right there. But he knew that she would chastise him for the very idea, so he packed up that thought for later and tried to pretend it was just your average Monday.

But god was it awkward trying to pretend that he hadn't had her pressed up against his kitchen counter topless and begging. It was impossible not to remember the way she said his name when she came, how she shook in his arms and he wanted her so badly…

He had debated over the whole weekend what to do when Monday came.

Would she want to do it with him again? Would she pretend like nothing happened? Would she even show up to work?

But eventually, he decided on a date. He owed her at least one good old fashion date, where he opened the car door and pulled out her chair. For seven years he’d dragged her across the country on his epic journey for the truth, and she hadn’t left his side yet. The least he could do was buy her dinner.

Sex before the first date wasn’t exactly traditional either, but neither were they. They may as well do this thing , whatever it was, their own way, as non-traditional and ridiculous as it is.

So he asked her on a date. Spontaneous combustion would have probably been less painful but he did manage to blurt it out after their fourth uncomfortable interaction of the day, hoping that maybe the promise of the night would ease the tension. It worked, slightly, and the way she looked at him when he asked made him feel like he made the right choice. He would have kissed her right there if he thought he would be able to stop after just one.

Eventually the silence settled back in, persisting until 6:00 pm on the dot, when both of them arose from their chairs in a daze and started packing up.

He thought when they got off the clock things would get easier. He was sorely mistaken.

The problem was that he didn’t know what to do with his damn hands. Before, when they packed up their office and headed to their respective vehicles, he would guide her out in front of him with a hand placed in his spot at the small of her back, locking the door behind the two of them. While that had been an unconscious gesture before, now it felt deeply possessive and wholly intimate.

Far too intimate for a man about to take a woman on a first date .

It didn’t help that now he knew he knew there was a little freckle right in that spot that he couldn’t help but picture every time he glanced at her back. So he just shoved them in his pockets and used his shoulder blade to hold the door.

Space, too, was never an issue before, and he had never considered how much he invaded hers. Not until he leaned over to flick the lightswitch off and found himself practically nose to nose with her. She froze, wide eyed, as he backed away slowly, like she was a woodland animal he didn’t want to scare off, mumbling an apology.

They stood just a little too far apart on the elevator, Mulder choosing to stare at his own shoelaces instead of chancing a glance over at her. They exited into the parking garage and eventually she broke the silence before they got stuck staring off at license plates and cement walls.

“Do you want to drive? Or can we walk?” she asked. He considered the options. If he drove he could focus on the road instead of the incessant thoughts swirling through his brain regarding the fact that she had to wear a turtleneck today because of him. But his ever growing need for a drink made him lean towards the walking option. And he was worried that at the rate today was going, opening her car door may result in a trip to the hospital.

“Lets walk”

-

They started talking about a case on the walk over, bitter winds making it easy to keep their hands in their pockets, and he guesses arguing over the implications of seemingly random asphyxiation was much better than silence.

She was in the middle of explaining to him how the collapse of the trachea that she had seen in the autopsies could not have been caused without a physical crushing of the neck when they walked in the restaurant. He walked up to the hostess desk to check in with her following closely behind.

“Reservation for Fox Mulder” he said to the girl, and pretended not to see Scully’s cocked eyebrow at the fact that he’d had reservations ready. She didn’t need to know he made them as soon as he’d left on Saturday.

The hostess looked up at him and glanced back to Scully and smiled broadly.

“Of course! Right this way Mr. and Mrs. Mulder”

She turned to lead them into the restaurant and Mulder turned to cock an eyebrow at Scully who rolled her eyes, although he spotted a smirk before she tucked her head to her chest and playfully pushed him forward to follow the hostess to their table. He tossed his hands up in mock surrender and weaved through the tables, eventually being seated at a small table near the back. He went to pull out her chair for her but wasn’t quick enough, and his hasty retreat resulted in him getting caught in an awkward dance with the hostess as he spun around the table to his own chair. He would have sworn she was laughing at him if he hadn’t been so busy apologizing to the young girl.

They barely had time to get settled before the hostess was replaced with their waiter, who introduced himself as Brandon and got to taking their drink orders.

“And what can I get for you and the misses tonight sir?” he asks with a smile, and this is just great, Mulder thinks, before smirking across the table at Scully and replying.

“Me and the wife will both have gin and tonics. Well is fine.”

Scully kicked him in the shins under the table, and he covered his grimace with a brilliant smile that Brandon seemed to buy, as he left the table to get their drink orders in. He turned back to see Scully glaring at him.

“‘Me and the wife’, Mulder?” she asked, and he was almost scared for a second before he saw the hint of a smile gracing her lips, and he knew he was in the clear.

“Just trying to see if I can get that honeymoon discount Scully”

She rolls her eyes again to herself and he recalls something his mother used to say about your eyes getting stuck like that. He thinks if that saying had any truth Scully would have found out by now.

They stare down at the menus placed in front of them, a much more comfortable silence than before. He decides on the steak special too quickly and ends up watching her as she intently scans the soup and salad portion of the menu. He studies her features in the low light of the bar, how she brushed little strands of hair back behind her ear when they were in her way, how she licked her lip when she was concentrating. She was breathtaking even when she wasn’t trying to be.

The waiter returned and set their drinks in front of them, both politely nodding in thanks as Brandon began taking their order. She orders a southwest salad with chicken and he orders the steak and Brandon smiles and promises their meals will be out shortly.

And so they are left, open and vulnerable, without menus or desks to use as shields. Mulder nursed his gin, letting the dry taste of alcohol distract him from the beauty of his company. He could see her doing the same, her eyes flicking around the room looking for anything mildly interesting. He followed her gaze to the table next to them, where a couple sat hand in hand, gazing at each other overtop of half eaten meals.

Maybe he should try to hold her hand?

He looked back at Scully and caught her staring at him. Probably waiting for him to say something. He was also anxiously awaiting his next move.

Who was he kidding? He had no moves.

He thought back to first dates he’d had before. It had been a while, longer than he’d prefer to admit. It’s probably why he was so out of practice. But with those women, it had always been different. He would ask them about their families, their careers, what they watch on TV, normal stuff. Scully has a mother, two brothers, one sister that he took away, she’s the best forensic pathologist the FBI has seen in years, and she’s recently gotten into watching those discovery channel specials on ocean animals.

“So you don’t think the asphyxiation could have been spontaneous”

Work is safe. Work doesn’t involve awkward first date questionings that he already knew the answers to. If they talked about work maybe he could convince himself that they were just out in the field, grabbing dinner after a long day of investigation, not that he was stuck sweating through his shirt on a first date with his dream woman.

“I’m just saying there have been no recorded cases of the trachea collapsing in on itself spontaneously. Given the amount of internal trauma…”

“But your report stated there was no visible external trauma,” he interrupted. “Tell me Scully, what are the typical injuries related to strangulation?”

There was a glint in her eyes when he challenged her and he could tell she was much more comfortable with this line of conversation. She’d always take him up on an excuse to fire those incredible grey cells of hers.  

“Well, strangulation typically results in petechial hemorrhages along the neck and in the face, possible lacerations to the throat or surrounding areas. You’ll see bulging of eyes, discoloration of the face due to blood pooling, the tongue can sometimes be bitten or even swollen itself, and-” she was cut off by a grunt from the table next to them, and both of them turned to the couple they had been watching before, who were now looking over at them horrified, the woman seeming like she’d rather vomit than touch any more of her own dinner. Scully shrunk down into her chair and Mulder apologized for the two of them, letting out a frustrated sigh.

So that’s a no-go on the work talk. Come on Mulder, think. What do women like on first dates? They like to be complimented. You should compliment her.

“You look nice.”

She looked up at him like he’d sprouted a second head.

“Mulder I’m wearing my work clothes. The same clothes I’ve been wearing all day” she spoke slowly at him and he wished there was a window nearby he could hurl himself from.

“Yes, um. They’re nice. Your work clothes” he fumbled, speaking with the grace of a hippopotamus attempting ballet.

“Thank you? Um… you look nice… as well.”

The words left her lips and she flamed red up to her ears. Quickly she snatched up her drink and swallowed the remainder of what was in the glass. He followed suit. Maybe if Brandon came back he could just ask him to bring the whole bottle to their table. Clearly they both needed the catalyst. She was still blushing when he put the glass down.

If his profiling skills were to be trusted, which they often are, she was mulling over the same question that he was.

What the fuck are they doing?  

Going out, sleeping together? Were they tossing away 7 years of partnership for...what? To crawl into bed with each other? Satisfy carnal urges that could no longer be suppressed?

No that felt wrong. This wasn’t just a simple fuck, sex without feelings. He certainly had been feeling a lot that night.

So then what? To take her on dates? To make her as happy as she’d made him all these years? To make love to her? Is that what this is? Love?

Does love make you incapable of coherent speech every time you gaze into her eyes for a little too long? Does love make you want to pull out chairs and order drinks for her? Does love render you an absolutely smitten idiot?

Yes .

Well then, if that's what this is, he better get his shit together.

He reaches over to her and grabs her hand that had been tapping anxiously at the table cloth, his chair shifting and making a loud screech that draws the attention of some of the other customers. He feels her jump as their skin makes contact, almost tipping out of her chair herself, shaking the table and she anchors herself with her other hand. It's ridiculous that just 2 days ago he’d been on his knees worshiping her and now she jumps when he touches her hand. It’s all ridiculous, awkward, by far one of the worst first dates he’s ever been on, but god he loves her.

She meets his eyes and it's too much. They burst out laughing, both of them, him still clutching her hand, her reaching across the table with her free one to grasp his forearm. The laughter almost brings tears to his eyes, and he’s positive the couple next to them is starring in disapproval again, but he couldn’t care less because they’re both the most relaxed they’ve been all day. She has her head tossed back and he watches in awe as she laughs with him. It’s everything he’s ever wanted.

Eventually their laughter subsides, and he squeezes her hands to bring her back to him, speaking softly.

“I’m sorry I’m so bad at this.”

She chuckles again, aftershocks of their outburst before.

“No Mulder, I should be apologizing. It’s me who’s been so awkward all day”

She grips his hands tightly, like she was trying to enhance the meaning behind her apology.

“It takes two to tango Scully,” he jokes, hoping maybe if he can get her to laugh again she’ll forgive him.

She does.

“I’m just glad you haven’t given up on me yet.”

At this she raised an eyebrow in feigned shock.

“What, and just walk out on a free dinner?” she jests, and he didn’t know he could love her more.

“Now Scully, you and I both know what happens when the man buys his woman dinner…”

He waggles his eyebrows at her and she giggles again. Maybe the gin was getting to her. He hoped that maybe it was just him.

“Agent Mulder you should know that a lady never puts out on a first date.”

She was teasing him now, with that soft smirk and those flirtatious eyes, and he felt the toe of her shoe tap the front of his shin gently.

And just as he feels like reaching across the table and pulling her in for a kiss, Brandon makes his untimely entrance with their entrees.

“Enjoy,” he says with a wave and retreats back to the kitchen. Scully happily dives into her salad and a disappointed Mulder cuts his steak. The reviews on this place must have been correct, because she is humming contentedly by her third bite, clearly satisfied with her choice of dinner. He made a mental note to look into other restaurants in the area with stellar salad reviews.

The awkwardness seemed to dissipate as they ate. He pretended not to notice her shuffling tomatoes onto his plate and stealing bits of his mashed potatoes back. Eventually when he had eaten his fill, he rotated the plate in her direction, gesturing towards the unfinished potatoes. She acted innocent for a second before scooping a forkful into her mouth. Brandon refilled their drinks but neither felt the call of intoxication any longer. He was perfectly happy getting drunk off of love.

Love .

He wondered when he would tell her. How would he tell her? He wondered if she loved him.

But he wiped a spot of chipotle lime dressing from the corner of her mouth with his thumb and she looked him dead in the eyes and sucked his finger between her perfect lips, releasing it with a pop and instantly returning to the shy smile that she wore better than anything.

He decided that conversation could wait, for now.

At least until the second date.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 21

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“Hi,” she greets him as he walks in the door, “I have something for you.”

She’s perched in the armchair, a smile that’s coy and playful curling the corners of her mouth. He gives her a curious smirk as he slips off his shoes and overcoat.

“Okay, like a gift?” he asks, crossing the room to plant a kiss on her lips, stealing another to enjoy the warm feeling of her mouth against his, which is chilled from the wintery air outside.

She shakes her head as he goes into the bedroom, changing into sweats and a T-shirt.

“You’re going to have to find it,” she calls from the other room, and he smiles to himself.

This is his favorite version of her; playful and flirtatious, quick to smile and laugh. He loves all aspects of her personality, but the rarity of this one makes it feel special. She almost never acts this way in front of anyone else, even her family; it feels like it’s just for him. He moves to stand at the threshold of the living room, leaning against the wall.

“Are you going to give me a hint?” he asks, and she considers the question with a thinking man pose.

“Well, I will tell you that right now you are very, very, cold,” she finally says.

His eyebrows lift in understanding and he walks back into the bedroom.

“Colder!” she calls, and he moves to the kitchen.

“Still cold.”

He walks to her desk.

“Mmm, slightly warmer.”

Next he steps close to the fireplace.

“A little warmer.”

He turns to look at her and narrows his eyes. He takes a step towards her.

“Oh, warmer.”

He stands directly in front of her chair.

“Getting hot,” she says with a playful lilt to her voice.

He drops to his knees between her legs.

“Very, very hot.”

He slips his fingers into the waistband of her pants.

“On fire,” She says with a smile.

He moves to pull her pants down and the tips of his fingers meet with something foreign near the top of her thigh. He quirks his head quizzically, fitting his whole hand into her pant leg and pulling out two long strips of cardstock. Airline tickets.

“How do you feel about a California Christmas?” she asks hopefully, and he looks at the tickets to see that the destination is San Diego, December 22nd.

He knew that she and her mother had been talking about flying out to see Bill for the holiday, but he’d assumed that he’d be left at home.

“What about Priscilla?” he asks, both touched that she wants to include him in her family’s celebration and nervous about meeting her older brother, who he understands will hate him by default.

“We can ask the Gunmen to look after her,” she offers. “Unless you don’t want to come with me?”

He can tell by her tone that it’s not meant to be a way for him to opt out, but a test of his willingness to go. She clearly wants him to.

“Of course I want to go with you,” he replies, moving close and wrapping his arms around her waist. “I will admit to being a little worried about meeting your brother, and in his home, on his turf.”

She gives him a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry too much about Bill. Missy and Charlie are going, and Mom of course, and they love you. I know Tara will too. So even if he does pull the big brother card and give you a hard time, we have strength in numbers.”

“Is Byers going?” he asks hopefully, and she shakes her head. “Missy only just barely told Mom about him. It’s too soon for them.”

“But not for us?” he asks with the smile he reserves for the times when she alludes to the seriousness of their commitment.

She shakes her head slowly. “Not for us,” she says.

———

“Oh my god, I’m going to lose my mind, Mulder.”

She’s pacing around the apartment, putting things into different piles and open suitcases, her level of stress palpable in the air.

“Honey, stop for a second,” he says, grabbing her by the shoulders and dipping his head to meet her eye. “Take a deep breath,” he instructs, waiting as she does so. “We don’t need to leave for the airport for another twelve hours,” he says, keeping his own tone calm and level to counter hers, “we have plenty of time to pack.”

“It’s not just the packing, Mulder, this entire week was a nightmare. Everything I was hoping to accomplish before this trip was waylaid in one way or another; I missed my doctor’s appointment because of an emergency autopsy and forgot to reschedule it before they closed on Friday, Trudy was out sick half the week so I had to absorb her workload, the dry cleaners lost the dress I was going to bring for Christmas Eve mass, Priscilla is out of food AND litter, and I can’t find my earplugs for the plane,” she rattles off.

He pulls her into a hug, feeling her relax a bit with the contact.

“I will go pick up cat food, litter and earplugs,” he says, pulling away to look at her again, “and I’ll remind you to call the doctor tomorrow and reschedule. Wear that blue dress with the little flowers on it to mass, it looks beautiful on you. And try to breathe,” he finishes, giving her a sympathetic smile.

She forces a small smile onto her mouth and takes another deep breath. “Thank you,” she says quietly.

He pours her a big glass of wine before bundling himself up against the cold and venturing out into the December night.

———

She glances at Mulder intermittently, watching for signs of overwhelm. She knows that coming from a small, dysfunctional family means that he’s not accustomed to the type of gathering they are currently entrenched in; the entire Scully clan plus Tara’s parents and brother, and several members of their church. He seems to be faring okay, sipping a beer while talking sports with Charlie and a few others.

As nervous as he’d been about meeting Bill, he was well prepared. Scully directed him to speak highly of the Chargers while eviscerating the Patriots, and to go easy on the PDA. While they aren’t exactly best friends, Bill doesn’t seem to actively dislike him, and they are calling that a win.

She’d fully expected them to be set up in separate rooms given Bill’s traditional family values, but the number of people who needed to be housed made that impractical. They ended up relegated to the guest room and a single twin bed, though the enormous stack of pillows and blankets arranged on it suggest that one of them is expected to make a bed on the floor. They don’t do that, of course, instead sleeping nested together like spoons, Mulder continuously making half-hearted attempts at getting frisky while she laughs and slaps his hand away.

They are dressed for midnight mass on Christmas Eve, Scully in her flowered blue dress and Mulder in one of his typical weekday suits. They sit in the pew between Mom and Charlie, hands clasped chastely on the bench between them, suppressing giggles as he leans over to warn her that he is at risk of bursting into flame. He traces patterns on her palm with his index finger and she realizes at some point that they are letters. She concentrates, trying to understand his message, expecting it to be ‘I love you’ or something similarly sweet. When she puts together that he is spelling out ‘sex tonight?’ she looks over at him with wide eyes and then purses her lips together tightly to keep from laughing, doing her best to glare at him.

They file sleepily through the door at nearly 2am, quietly going off into their respective bedrooms and pull-out couches, hoping to get some rest before Christmas festivities in the morning. Scully quickly brushes her teeth and washes her face before darting to the bedroom, wriggling under the covers and pressing her back against Mulder, her cold toes brushing against his shins.

“Hm, you’re cold,” he says softly, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer.

“Thanks for going to mass,” she whispers back, “it meant a lot to my mom to have all of us there.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” he answers, his breath hot on her neck, “it’s nice to feel like a part of a real family.”

She threads her fingers through his where they rest on her belly, squeezing his hand. She tries to go to sleep, but his chest rising and falling against her back and the heat of his groin tucked against her backside are distracting. She wiggles a little bit against him.

“Hmmm,” he responds, thrusting his hips against her gently.

She swore that she was not going to have sex at her brother’s house. She knows that they can go without for the week they are here. But as she feels him grow hard against her ass, the throbbing between her legs suggests otherwise. No doubt it’s exacerbated by the forbidden nature of the situation; the door doesn’t have a lock and the house is quiet and still, though packed with enough ears that the risk of being heard is high. When his lips press against the back of her neck, she knows she’s done for.

She reaches behind herself to slip her hand into his pajama pants, stroking him firmly as he breathes hard into her ear, suppressing the groan that she knows would normally result from her touch. He pushes his pants down to his knees with one hand, then hurriedly brings hers down as well. She emits a small gasp when he slips inside her, simultaneously pushing his hand under her pajama top to squeeze her breast.

“Jesus fuck, you’re wet,” he whispers harshly in her ear, and she wants to make a joke about not taking the lord’s name in vain on his birthday but when he starts pumping in and out deliciously slowly, the thought slips from her mind.

If he moves too quickly the bed squeaks, so he keeps a languid pace as he pinches her nipples and kisses her neck, then slides his hand down to play with her clit in the tight space between her legs, which are still pinned together by the pajama pants around her knees. It feels incredible, and yet the necessary slowness and need to stay quiet make her wonder if she will be able to come. As if intuiting this, Mulder withdraws momentarily, sitting up and freeing her top leg from her pants, then lies back down and hitches her ankle behind his knee; her favorite position. He pulls the blanket back over them for warmth and modesty, though if anyone were to walk in now they’d have no chance of plausible deniability. With more room to move, he resumes his slow strokes and pairs them with hard and fast circles around her clit, murmuring little affirmations into her ear so softly she can barely hear them, much less anyone else. The vibration of his voice, the slip of his cock, the rough brush of his fingers, all come together in crescendo as she stiffens in his arms, turning to muffle her cries against his mouth as she comes. Now able to focus on his own release, he continues to pump slowly, pressing his face into her neck and letting out a low growl as she feels him throbbing inside her.

He slips quietly out of the bed, retrieving one of his dirty T shirts and swiping it between her legs before he pulls her pajama pants back into place. They get comfortable again, the sexual tension that had prevented them from relaxing before now dissipated.

He kisses her cheek softly, murmuring “Merry Christmas, Scully,” into her ear just before she drifts off to sleep.

In the morning, they sit around the lit tree, drinking coffee and eating pastries as they shake off sleep.

“Is your house haunted, Bill?” Charlie asks, and Bill gives him a doubtful look. “I swear I heard some weird noises, like creaking and whispering, I felt like I was in a horror movie,” Charlie defends.

Scully hides her face behind her coffee cup, glancing over to see Missy giving her a pointed look.

“I’m sure it was just the Christmas spirit,” Maggie says jovially. “Who wants to open presents?!”