#sweet-scully-sighs

[pianogirlxf]

15 Questions 15 Answers

Thanks @randomfoggytiger

1. Are you named after anyone?

My Dad said yes, my Mom said no. So, maybe? It’s a very unusual name and in my entire life I’ve only met a handful of other people with it.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Yesterday when talking about my deceased father.

3. Do you have kids?

Three. Girl, boy, girl.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I sure did when I was younger. It was my default. Now almost never.

5. What sports do you play/have played?

Zero. I don’t even really like to watch them much. Baseball is OK.

6. What’s the first thing you notice about other people?

Their height.

7. What’s your eye color?

A warm brown, almost amber.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings, if I have to chose. But I actually prefer gritty realism.

9. Any special talents?

Special? I have talents, but I think they are pretty run of the mill, such as playing the piano.

10. Where were you born?

California, US. But I have lived many, many places.

11. What are your hobbies?

Sewing. I love to make my own clothes. Anything X-Files. Learning Finnish.

12. Do you have any pets?

Two cats, Mochi and Clementine.

13. How tall are you?

5’11”, which is probably why I always notice people’s height.

14. Favorite subject in school?

Music, English, and History

15. Dream job?

Other than Agent Mulder’s personal assistant, you mean? Composer. Which I am, so lucky me, I guess. Although I would like to be a world-famous Pulitzer Prize winning composer, which I am not. So there’s that.

Let’s see your answers

[chellestrash]

After work

Fox Mudler x F!Reader summary: You decide to make the unwinding after work a bit more interesting for Mulder warnings: teasing, mentions of smut, implied smut. Just something short, sweet and fun for the end of the year. word count: 2.2K a/n: this is me trying to get out of my writing/art block. ALSO, first time writing Mulder! Thank you @chelseasdagger for editing this!

You lay on the small couch in Mulder’s apartment, resting on your side, turned to face the room as the gentle light from the TV shines onto your face. Some low budget horror movie plays quietly on the small screen, but to be completely honest, you don’t pay much attention to it, choosing to have it on as a means of killing time. You usually finish your work before Mulder does, even on the off chance he might leave the office at a normal hour. Killing time until you get to see him in the evening wasn't an unusual thing for you now you didn't mind it.

A cheap gag in the movie makes you sigh quietly before you look away, glancing up at the small window above Mulder's desk. You frown, suddenly realizing the late hour. 

You check the time, squinting at the clock on the bookshelf next to the sofa, before glancing at the phone on the desk. 

The thought of calling him passes by your mind, but you brush it off quickly. You weren't too worried about him, not today, the case him and Scully have been currently working on didn't seem particularly dangerous or high risk, at least not from what he's been able to share with you over the phone. 

The subtle sound of house keys on the other side of the door to the apartment makes you smile, perking your head up and turning to face him.

“Well, well, well…look who's here.”

He speaks first, pretending he wasn't expecting to see you there. 

“You mind telling me how you managed to get into my apartment, ma’am?”

Rolling your eyes at the tease, you turn away to face the TV again.

“I broke in using the keys you gave me.”

You explain without taking your eyes off of the movie, snuggling into the pillow harder while he pulls the work jacket off his shoulders and makes his way over to the couch. 

“Well, damn.”

He mumbles quietly, his usual monotone voice makes the corner of your lips pull up slightly.

“I need to be more careful about handing out my spare keys, huh? I mean, what is this? It's like anyone can just walk in, lay on my couch and make themselves at home.”

“Oh, anyone?”

You raise your eyebrow, glancing up at him in an accusatory manner.

“Well…”

His lips push into a small pout.

“You got me, I give up.”

You breathe out a small laugh as he leans down, pressing his lips to the side of your head gently before moving away. He loosens the tie around his neck and tosses it off to the side before he unbuttons the top couple of buttons on his shirt.

“So…”

He starts after a moment once you pull your legs closer to your chest to make room for him on the couch by your feet. He sits down, lifting your legs up slightly just to rest them gently in his lap.

“What are we watching?”

He asks, fingers slowly rubbing up and down your calves.

“Ummm…not sure. Killer clowns, I think?”

“UUUuu, spooky.”

Mulder hums, unimpressed, and you chuckle at the reaction. There's a pause and you both actually pay attention to the movie for a short while.

“Aliens?”

You glance over at him, catching the small smile when you ask the work related question.

“No um… no, it was vampires, actually.”

He explains and you nod.

“Real ones?”

The smile widens as you seem genuinely interested. At least somewhat.

“Well…technically, yeah, you could say that but, you know.”

“No evidence?”

He shrugs.

“No evidence.”

“I mean, it's a possibility, right? You've handled cases like that before.”

You state, and Mulder nods, agreeing with you, his hand slowly rubbing over your thigh. He turns away from the TV, now looking directly at you.

“Do you think I should remind you that that is classified government information, you technically know nothing about, huh?”

“Oh, I'm soooorry.”

You talk back, head now propped up in your hand, face turned away from the movie you found yourself no longer interested in watching.

“Guess I just overheard it when you were talking in your sleep.”

“Hey!’

Mulder reacts immediately, and you can't help the laugh leaving your body when he pulls you up and into his lap with a slightly offended expression.

“.... I talk in my sleep?”

He asks, hands rubbing over your lower back while you throw your leg onto the other side of him, straddling his thighs in effect.

“Oh, not at all.”

You mumble quietly, pushing a couple strands of hair that fell forward onto his forehead away from his face with a soft smile, and he offers a small one in return.

“You know what? If I didn't know you any better, I would've said that didn't sound too convincing.”

He points out in the quiet, monotone voice, and you shrug your shoulders softly.

“I mean, I could’ve just read your mind, and you'd never know.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He asks with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“You're changing your confession now?”

He teases in a typical Mulder manner, and your smile grows bigger as you tilt your head to the side, letting him continue after a moment.

“So what-what you're trying to say is I work a case all week, and then I come back home to relax, and now I have another X-file on my hands? Is that what you're trying to say?”

You smirk, glancing up at him innocently.

“Oh, I'm not trying to say anything except that I missed you.”

He smiles so big, his teeth shine in the light of the TV screen.

“Me? You, missed ME?”

You hum quietly, confirming your confession as you rub your hand up along his chest.

“Well, that's good to know. Why didn't you call to tell me earlier, hmm?”

“Didn't want to interrupt you at work.”

You explain yourself, and he shakes his head gently before whispering your name softly. 

“You are the only person who I want to interrupt my work, okay?”

His thumb brushes over your cheek, and you lean into the touch, staring into those dark brown, puppy dog eyes. 

“Okay.”

“So you missed me?”

He goes back to your earlier point, and you breathe out a small laugh.

“I need to try and remember that next time I'm at the office, huh?”

“I mean.”

You brush your hand over his shoulder and down his arms.

“I wouldn't complain.”

You shift your position in his lap, and he grunts, feeling the weight of your body now directly between his legs, his grip on you tightening slightly. 

“Oh, but I know you have your vampires and aliens and things you need to deal with over there.”

You speak softly, your fingers gently tracing over the shirt. Your head tilts to the side slightly as you try to make sure your words actually reach him. His eyes jump around your face as you talk, stopping at your lips for longer than they would in a usual conversation before he tilts his head down, eyes now fixed on the spot where your body presses against him between his legs. His hand moves up your back, pushing at the hem of your shirt.

“Hey.”

You start again when he doesn't respond.

“Earth to Mulder?”

“Hmm?”

He mumbles, questioning what you've just said, clearly too lost in the situation to pay actual attention to what's being said.

“When did you stop listening?”

“What?”

He blinks a couple of times before frowning, offended that you’d question his ability to listen to you…under the circumstances.

“Oh, I actually heard everything, for your information.”

He states confidently, and you raise your eyebrows, doubting his words.

“Oh, you did?”

He nods, slipping his hand right under your shirt, his palm flat against your bare back now.

“Yep, everything, yeah. Loud and clear.”

Still slightly out of it, he nods again quickly, doing his best to sound as convincing as possible despite the evidence you feel, oh so clearly, pressing against your body from underneath you.

“So, what did I say?”

You push.

“You said you missed me.”

He starts, and you can't really argue with that.

“And then you also mentioned how I am the best looking federal agent you ever dated, I'm pretty sure.”

Not giving you much time to disagree, or call him out, he raises you off of his lap, swiftly helping you lay back down on the couch. You lay under him as he leans closer to you, his hands playing with the hem of your shirt, his eyes stuck on yours. 

“I don't think I said that.”

You frown.

“But you said you missed me.”

He points out again.

“And you called me an X-File.”

You mumble, unimpressed, and he laughs, shaking his head before it hangs low above your chest.

“I mean, you could argue that was a compliment? Maybe?”

You roll your eyes, a smile back on your face as you decide to let him have it this one time.

“Okay, yeah, that's what I'll do.”

You glance down, slowly raising your knee up, nudging at the bulge in his gray slacks. 

Mulder hums quietly, grinding his hips down slightly as a response to your move. His hands linger over your body, one now under your shirt, the other on the side of your neck.

“Yeah?”

He asks, his voice soft, his touch gentle but impatient.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah and-”

He leans down, pressing his lips against your neck, and you tilt your head back slightly in response, a silent invitation for him to continue.

“I think I deserve some extra credit.”

He mumbles, his words breaking up between the kisses. He slowly moves lower and lower down your torso as he pulls the fabric of your shirt up to expose more and more of your skin, until finally pulling the fabric off and over your head. He tosses the shirt off to the side and his lips find their way back to your body, right above the waistband of your jeans.

“Credit for?”

You glance back down, your hands pushing through his hair when he looks back up into your eyes, lost in the moment, in the kisses and in the feel of your body under his.

“Creativity?”

You laugh, head falling back down onto the couch, fingers still in his hair as you feel his lips back on your body.

“Yeah, okay, I'll give you that.”

You purr softly. As gentle as possible, you scratch at the back of his neck, the short hair prickling the tips of your fingers softly. He lets out a satisfied hum, resting his head right below your belly button, facing you with his eyes directly on yours. You push your hips up slightly, feeling his fingers brush over the sides of your body, and he glances down between your legs before turning his head up to look towards your face again.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you get extra points, Agent Mulder. Now c'mere.”

Instructing him to move closer to you, you push your lips against his when his face is inches away from yours. He moans into the kiss, and in response you do the same as the kiss deepens more and more. Feeling his touch firmer on your body now, you reach down, palming the bulge through the fabric of his pants. There's a loud grunt, he breaks the kiss, his lips parted, eyes closed as his lips curl up into a big smile.

“Well, good job, me.”

He mumbles quietly, tracing his hand down your body, fingers curling under the waistband of your jeans while his big, brown eyes open and find yours once again. 

“I think maybe-maybe I should try to earn more of these points, huh?”

Mulder asks, his thumb rubbing over the skin above your jeans.

“I think you really should.”

You agree quickly, nodding and pushing your hips up slightly at the same time.

“You got any-”

He pauses for a moment, placing a wet kiss on the skin right under your belly button, and you feel the warmth between your legs grow significantly stronger.

“Any idea how I could do that?”

He kisses the same spot again, then moves slightly lower, then lower and lower again before working the zipper open. Slowly pulling the fabric down your thighs, he brushes his lips over the newly exposed skin, and a moan slips past your lips.

He chuckles loudly at the sound, shaking his head when you look back down with a soft smirk.

“Oh, Agent Mulder, I think you know very well how you can do that.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He asks, in a lighter tone this time.

“I mean, I'm pretty much just guessing here, I-”

He quickly glances between your two bodies.

“I have precisely zero idea what I am doing here right now.”

You scoff loudly, pushing his face away and letting your head fall back onto the couch again.

“Too much sarcasm, too little action there, Mulder.”

You squirm impatiently under his body, hungry from the promise of pleasure.

“Copy that.”

He nods quickly, the big smile never leaving his face for even a second before he buries his face between your legs.

[leiascully]

Fic: The Altar Is My Hips (M, MSR)

1500 words; M for sexual situations; the POÄNG pals wondered what would happen if Mulder proposed while eating pussy and here is the result (ao3)

Scully’s flat on her back in her bed with Mulder’s face between her legs. It’s her new favorite pastime. She’s got her hands in his silky hair and his tongue flicks at her clit in a steady rhythm. She lets her back arch, pushing her mound against his face. He hums in pleasure and licks a few lazy circles that leave her moaning.

Mulder, as she had always suspected, eats pussy like it’s his calling in life. Mulder eats pussy like other people eat oysters, and with twice as much relish. Maybe it’s that full lower lip or maybe it’s his nimble tongue or maybe it’s that distinguished profile, but Scully can’t resist. His face is a saddle and she’s ready to ride. Yee-haw.

She’s had lovers before who made it feel like a chore, but it’s obvious Mulder enjoys it. He’ll eat her out for hours, given the chance, moving from her on top to him on his knees to him pinning her to the bed to various configurations of 69. He’ll strip her down or tongue her through the nicer underwear she’s started wearing. She has to fuck him between sessions just to redistribute the sensation.

Maybe it’s the seven years of blue balls, but they’ve both been insatiable since they started fucking. She can’t get enough of him. She’s fairly sure Skinner’s noticed the way she’s been staring at Mulder during meetings, partly because she keeps putting the end of her pen in her mouth. It isn’t on purpose. She’s been hungry for so long, and now she’s got a buffet spread out in front of her. Or under her. Or on top of her. She’s flexible. So to speak.

Today she’s a pillow princess and Mulder’s doing all the work. All she has to do is lie back and not think of England. She has no thoughts when Mulder spreads her thighs. Her brain is blissfully empty, filled up with sparklers and fireflies and the heat of a perfect summer evening. Mulder’s made her come so hard she forgot how to speak. She wants him so much it makes her feel stupid. When he’s inside her, she doesn’t care about anything else in the world.

He sucks her clit gently into his mouth, teasing her. Sensation prickles through her. She’s got goosebumps. The tip of his tongue swirls over her clit, and then he rubs at her clit with the flat width of his tongue until it makes her vision go blurry. He moans into her and it’s such a fucking turn-on. If she wasn’t already drenched, she’d be wet just listening to him eat her out.

She combs her fingers through his hair, resisting the urge to grab a handful. She doesn’t always resist, but this isn’t that kind of occasion. This is sweet, deliciously leisurely. He’s been taking it very slow, pausing in his ministrations to kiss his way up the ticklish inside of her thigh. She’s sure she’s got a hickey just low enough that the hem of her underwear won’t conceal it. She’s lucky she doesn’t have one just above the back of her knee. Skinner would definitely raise an eyebrow over that one.

Mulder nudges her thighs further apart, pushing her open with the breadth of his shoulders. She splays her legs wide, putting herself on display for him. He makes a happy noise and pulls a little harder at her clit. She gasps and sighs. Her blood feels like hot honey, thick and sweet and slow. Her whole body is hot and loose. Need builds in her belly, but it’s a deliberate coiling, driven by the pace of Mulder’s tongue.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been here. She doesn’t care. She only knows that her body is a pleasure garden that Mulder cultivates. She’s magic. She’s the rocking of the ocean, punctuated by glints of sharper pleasure. Her orgasm feels inevitable, even in its early stages, but she doesn’t want to rush it. She’s enjoying herself, enjoying him enjoying her.

She can feel the moment his hunger shifts. He sucks harder at her, flicks his tongue faster. He knows how to drive her to the edge. He uses the tip of his tongue to tease the exquisitely sensitive bud of nerves under her clitoral hood and she yelps. The pleasure inside her grows. It’s hungrier than before. She needs more, or different, or something.

“Your fingers,” she manages to say, and he’s pushing inside her almost before she can say it. His elegant hands were made to fuck her. She’s convinced of it, despite any evidence to the contrary. Two fingers is usually enough, but not today. She’s starving for him. She wants him everywhere inside her. If he could eat her out and fuck her at the same time, she’d do it. She’d have an orgy of Mulders, one for every orifice and one to grow on.

“More,” she says, and a third finger joins the other two, thrusting deeper into her, seeking the spot he knows will make her come undone. She loves how well he knows her, how he still studies her. His attention is intense; she’s never felt anything like it. He shifts just a little and suddenly it feels like a kiss, somehow even more intimate than before. Fuck, she loves him. She whimpers as his fingers graze the right place and he groans against her clit.

It doesn’t take long after that. Not with his fingers fucking her and his mouth insistent on her most sensitive skin and his other hand reaching up to touch her breasts. She’s tugging at his hair now. Her thighs squeeze around his ears and she isn’t trying to suffocate him, but she can’t relax. Her body is drawn tight, vibrating like a bow string. He strums his tongue across her clit and his fingers work inside her and he’s tweaking one of her nipples and she’s caressing the other and oh God, she’s coming. Her hips buck and he pins her with one arm and licks her through the waves of pleasure. She shivers over and over, as if she’s chaining one orgasm to the next to the next, until finally it’s too much and she gently pushes him away. He raises his face and rests his chin on her thigh.

“God, Mulder, that was amazing.” She can’t catch her breath.

“Marry me,” he says. His face is wet. His lips glisten. He licks at them. She can’t tell if he’s nervous or relishing the moment.

She laughs and pushes up on her elbows to look at him. “What?”

“Marry me,” he says again. There’s something in his eyes that tells her it’s not a joke, but that’s hard to believe after all his previous proposals, variously in jest or inebriated.

“Isn’t that my line, after an orgasm like that?” she asks.

He huffs and his breath tickles her thigh. “If you’re trying to let me down easy, I get it.”

“Marry you,” she says.

He nods, his chin digging into her thigh.

She looks at him for a long moment. His eyes are dark with unsatisfied desire, but he waits as patiently as if they’re at the ticket counter at the airport. She measures his face with her eyes, as if she doesn’t know it by heart. She lets her heart open, a luxury she rarely allows herself. Love suffuses her as thoroughly as pleasure did, rippling through her until she can hardly breathe. Of course it’s Mulder. It’s always been Mulder. If it could be anyone, it’s Mulder. They’ve been pledged to each other since that night in Bellefleur when she stepped into his hotel room and showed him her skin and her naked fear and he showed her his soul in return.

“Okay,” she says.

His eyes light up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says. She can wear a dress, white or otherwise. She can vow in front of God and her family to have and to hold him as long as they both shall live. She can wear his ring, be his wife, honor him, obey him (under very specific circumstances). The more she thinks about the idea, the better she likes it. “Will you marry me?”

“Of course I will,” he says.

“Come here,” she whispers, suddenly shy, and he hauls himself up the length of her body until she can kiss him. Mulder kisses like a fairytale: true love wrapped up in the strangest mysteries. She can taste herself on his mouth and feel the rigid heat of his cock against her hip. She shifts until he’s sliding between her folds, sliding into her, rocking slowly as they kiss. They make love; there’s no other word for it. They haven’t done it like this yet, somehow, though she would have sworn they’d tried it all. He moves in her, watching her, and she feels so new and so precious. Her eyes are glossy with tears, but so are his. She kisses his eyelids and he laughs a little. Her heart flares with heat. The world has been so cruel to him. Now he’s under her protection forever.

“Marry me?” he asks again as she arches under him.

“Yes,” she says as she comes again, “yes, yes, yes,” and she knows she’ll never stop saying it.

[slippinmickeys]

The Unseelie Court (3/16)

Scully was surprised to find that the Adrian County morgue had the budget to employ a diener, who met her at the autopsy bay door with a scowl. He was a gruff looking man, short and stocky though his hands were as big and thick as baseball mitts. His face was like a cartoon character, a Looney Tunes mob boss with a big nose and a jutting chin. He had inky hair and what looked like a perpetual five o’clock shadow with eyes so dark she couldn’t make out his pupils, even from up close. 

She introduced herself, and he grunted. 

“Aeon,” he said, shaking her hand and pointing out the locker room. “Have trouble finding the place?”

Scully shook her head. They’d come right from the crime scene. Mulder had dropped her off and headed to the hotel to check in.

“Have you been waiting long?” she asked him. 

He looked at her with his head cocked to the side. On his left eyelid were a constellation of skin tags. He shrugged and turned away. Scully hefted her small bag over her shoulder and walked in the direction he’d pointed. 

The locker room was small, cramped. She banged her elbow into the locker behind her as she changed into scrubs, and swore, shaking out her arm. Adjusting her watch band after the pain began to subside, she got a good look at the face. Her watch had stopped working. 

She sighed, knowing what Mulder would say, and pulled out her laptop. If he was going to throw wild theories at her, she was determined to walk into the conversation prepared. Armed for bear. 

There was nowhere to really sit, so she wandered down the hallway until she found a room with a few scattered tables and chairs. 

It was a break room like any other—a few crumby tables, a gummy bottle of Dawn next to the sink, a microwave that probably needed to be cleaned. The walls were bare but for the ubiquitous Family and Medical Leave Act poster and the air was reedy with the chemical smell of Lean Cuisines. Scully scrunched her nose distastefully. Opened a search engine and dug in. 

***

Mulder breezed into the autopsy suite with the sweet smell of the outdoors on his clothes, a marked contrast to the redolent Eau de dead of the morgue. 

Scully looked up from the table, surprised and pleased to see him. 

She pulled up the protective eyewear she was wearing, her eyes bright above the surgical mask. Mulder couldn’t help but grin at her, even over a body. Behind the cage of his ribs, he felt his heart soften at the sight of her. 

“Hey,” she said, leaning gloved hands against the edge of the autopsy tabletop. “How’d it go?”

“Not great,” he said, coming to a stop a few feet away from the body. “They had enough vacancy for separate rooms.” 

Scully’s eyes darted to the door nervously.

Mulder regretted teasing her. He watched as she shifted gears, and he moved his gaze to the body in front of them. The autopsy tech had removed the young man’s clothes, but it was clear Scully hadn’t gotten very far into her examination. There was not yet any Y incision, and the blanket offering the deceased what little dignity could be provided in his situation was still pulled up to his shoulders. 

“I thought you’d be half done by now.”

“I got a late start,” she said, shrugging. She pulled the mask below her mouth and leveled a look at him. “I take it you’re still married to this fairy idea?”

“Personnel file lists me as Single, Scully, you know that.”

“Cute,” she said humorlessly.

“My mother always said so.”

She gave him a look, her mouth a long, thin line. Yep. Shouldn’t have teased her with the hotel remark, he thought. She wasn’t big on being teased to begin with, and he’d probably just cratered his chances of an on-the-case dalliance. 

“The fae, or people like them, exist across nearly all cultures,” he finally said, tipping his cards so she could see his hand. “That kind of prevalence usually indicates at least a foundation in authenticity.”

“A version of Santa Claus exists in many cultures, Mulder, and I think we can both agree he’s not real.”

Mulder felt them settle into their usual routine. Odd how it sort of turned him on. Teasing was one thing, he thought. Honesty was another.

“I got what I wanted this year,” he shrugged.

At Mulder’s declaration, Scully’s eyes flitted immediately to his and she felt a flush rise up and spread along her collarbones. For a moment she could feel his rapacious mouth clamped over her vulva, his long, thick fingers curled into her, three knuckles deep. She gripped the metal countertop in front of her and inhaled before speaking.

“There is a theory that fairy folklore evolved from folk memories of a prehistoric race,” she said. “Newcomers superseded a body of earlier human or humanoid peoples, and the memories of this defeated race developed into modern conceptions of fairies.”

A slow, impressed smile crept up the corners of Mulder’s mouth. “…you’ve been doing some research,” he said.

“I may have spent a little time on the computer, yes,” she said, trying not to appear too pleased. “I think I pissed off my diener.”

“He’ll get over it,” Mulder said with a dismissive wave. Her diener must have been the dour fellow that showed him into the suite. Mulder shuffled his feet and leaned back against a metal countertop with an eager look on his face. “Hit me with it.”

Scully licked her lips before continuing, feeling a surge of sensual energy. 

“Proponents of the theory find support in the tradition of cold iron as a charm against fairies, viewed as a cultural memory of invaders with iron weapons displacing peoples who had just stone, bone, and wood at their disposal and were easily defeated. In folklore, flint arrowheads from the Stone Age were attributed to the fairies as ‘elfshot,’ while their green clothing and underground homes spoke to a need for camouflage and covert shelter from hostile humans, their magic a necessary skill for combating those with superior weaponry.”

“It’s a decent argument, but it’s not much fun,” Mulder said. 

“I’m going to remember that you said I had a decent argument,” she said, feeling ever so slightly smug. 

They were quiet for a moment and both turned their attention to the body before them. 

“Have you done an initial examination yet?” he asked. 

She shook her head, moving to stand next to the victim’s head. She reached up and turned on the microphone recording, rattling off the salient details. 

“I’ll begin with a visual examination,” she dictated, beginning by looking around the victim’s head and neck for signs of what might have killed him. 

Mulder slumped back against the shelf he was leaning against. He’d asked one of the deputies working the case to bring him a few more of their local missing persons cases just to compare notes, but now he thought maybe he should just head into the local station. Autopsies could take hours, and he wasn’t the biggest fan of the sounds and smells that came with the territory. He tapped the battered old file folder against his leg trying to decide what to do. 

Scully, for her part, was now fully engrossed in the work that lay before her. Getting to the victim’s face, she peeled back his eyelids, looking for petechiae. She didn’t see any, but she did notice that the man’s eyes were two different colors, as though he’d been assembled by a doll maker whose attention had strayed. One was a startling blue, like her own, the other brown, as dark as the oily depths of a cup of diner coffee.

“Mulder, can you hand me the missing persons file?”

He pushed off the tabletop he was leaning against and passed it over without a word. 

She flipped up a few pages. The purported victim, Daly Carmichael, had eye color listed as hazel, with no mention of heterochromia. She made a dull puzzled sound in the back of her throat. 

“Everything all right?” Mulder asked, stepping forward. 

“I don’t think this is Daly Carmichael,” she said. 

Mulder approached the table. “What do you mean?”

“The eyes are the wrong color,” Scully said. “Look.”

She handed over the file and shined a small flashlight into the victim’s eyes. 

“Two different colors,” Mulder said. 

“Yes,” Scully said. “The file lists his eye color as hazel.”

Mulder looked down at the picture of Daly. The man before them was identical to the picture in the file. Mulder squinted at the photograph, but it was old, taken in the 70’s, washed out pigment on textured paper; eye color was impossible to make out.

“Maybe the information on file is wrong,” he said.

Scully sighed.

“We’re still waiting for dental confirmation?” Mulder said. 

“Yes,” she confirmed. “The diener took dental X-Rays. They’ll go to a specialist.”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t make the call now,” Mulder said. He decided right then that he wasn’t going anywhere. This was too damn interesting. 

“I find it hard to believe the information in the file is wrong, Mulder. It’s a notable discrepancy. Heterochromia only occurs in 1% of the population. Of the world.”

“What if I told you it was common in fairies?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She reached up and turned off the mic.

“Not kidding,” he said. “There’s evidence going back roughly 500 years that Changelings have shown evidence of changing eye color.”

Changelings , she thought. Fucking changelings . Even her Aunt Olive didn’t believe in that one.

“Mulder, Changelings aren’t real!” she sputtered, letting frustration get the best of her. “They’re European folklore meant to make parents feel better about giving birth to children with chromosomal abnormalities and babies who succumbed to childhood illness!”

“By swapping out healthy infants for the imbecilic offspring of fairies or elves,” Mulder explained, feeling as though he were doing a good job keeping his own feelings in check. 

Scully leveled a look at her partner and took a deep, calming breath.  “Look at the file for Daly Carmichael,” she said, reclaiming a calm tone. “Tell me what religion he was.”

Mulder flipped open the file. “Catholic,” he said. “An altar boy at St. Francis.”

“The existence of changelings is believed to stem from the idea that infants are susceptible to demonic possession,” Scully said. “In the Medieval Chronicles, by Ralph of Coggeshall and in other sources, fairies are said expressly to prey upon unbaptized children.”

Her vigor and determination was something to behold.

“Scully,” he said, a little breathless, “are you trying to seduce me?”

She shook her head and turned back to look at the body, leaned in to get a better look at the victim’s face.

“Mulder, if I were trying to seduce you,” she said without looking up, “you’d know.” She reached back up and began recording again.

Something electric zipped through his veins. His mind spent the next thirty seconds buffering, interrupted only by a knock at the door. 

He turned to see Deputy Avery hovering outside, looking affable but maybe a little uncomfortable. He gave Mulder a friendly smile. 

Mulder gestured at him to come in, but the deputy only poked his head through the open doorway, holding out a couple of file folders. He never took his eyes off the body on the slab. 

“I’ve got those other Missing Persons files you wanted to see Agent Mulder,” he said, then took a thick swallow and stepped into the room, holding the folders out as if he didn’t want to be any closer to the victim.  

Mulder understood the impulse and put the poor deputy out of his misery, stepping forward to take them off his hands. 

“Appreciate you making the trip down here, Deputy.”

“Don’t mention it,” the blond man said, blinking rapidly at the body on the table. 

Scully finally looked up.

“He going to be okay?” she said, a little bemused. 

“Deputy Avery?” Mulder said. 

Avery darted his eyes to Scully and then straightened his posture.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and approached the examination table. Mulder wasn’t sure if he was trying to prove his mettle to himself or the pretty FBI agent, who, Mulder couldn’t help but notice, looked radiant, even with safety glasses and a mask. 

A second later, a mop that had been standing up against the wall on the other side of the room—one Scully hadn’t recalled seeing before—fell to the floor, handle first. The sound made all three of them jump, and Avery shot out a hand and grabbed Scully’s arm.

“Jesus!” Avery said, his other hand to his heart. 

The sound had startled Scully too, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up, an uncomfortable chill racing through her. Still, she gave a small chuckle and Avery looked down to where he was grabbing her and immediately let go. She turned back to the body. 

Mulder stepped forward and put his hand on Avery’s shoulder. 

“Appreciate you bringing the files by, deputy,” he said. “You can go.” 

Avery swallowed hard and gave the body one long last look, darting his eyes briefly to Scully. 

“Thank you, sir,” he said, scooting quickly out of the room, leaving the door swinging in his wake.

When Mulder turned back to Scully, she had an odd look on her face, peering closely at the victim, leaning in. 

“Huh,” she said after a long minute of examination.

Mulder had to give himself a mental shake. “What is it?”

She turned to the tray of instruments that had been carefully set up next to the autopsy table and grabbed a pair of long tweezers. She worked the victim’s jaw open a little and pressed the instrument past his lips, pulling out, a moment later, a broad, dark green leaf, stiff and glossy. 

Mulder stood up straighter.

“What is that? A leaf?” 

“Appears to be,” Scully said, twisting the tweezers to get a better view. “Magnolia, maybe. I don’t know.”

Then, suddenly: “Aeon?” she called out. 

Mulder was confused for a moment when the dark haired diener stuck his head through the bay door. 

He grunted in acknowledgement. “Yeah?”

“Magnifying glass?” she asked, looking around. 

“In the lab,” the man said, hooking a thumb toward the room opposite the autopsy suite. “Through here.”

Scully moved efficiently, stepping out of the autopsy bay and through the doors of the  lab. In the corner was a small examination station. Mulder followed, watching her curiously. She pulled down the lighted magnifying glass to get a better look at the leaf. 

“Mulder, look at this,” she said, holding the leaf under the light with the tweezers.

He looked through the lens. Etched into the back of the leaf was a seven-pointed star. 

“Bag this, would you?” Scully said, pushing the leaf toward him, an energized look on her face. 

She wasted no more time getting back to the body. She wouldn’t admit to Mulder, but she kind of liked it when things got weird. 

She wasn’t quite prepared for how weird things were about to get, and how fast. When she stepped back into the autopsy bay, the body on the table was just as she’d left it, mouth wide open. 

But it wasn’t the young man she’d left there. It was someone much, much older.

[unremarkablehouse]

Scully’s Hot Date

CH1 | Mature | S6 | WC 1639 | AO3

Summary: Mulder happens to run into Scully on her way to a blind date. Inspired by this photo of Gillian.

Tagging: @today-in-fic The FBI parking garage was desolate as Mulder slowly made his way to his car. Friday night before a public holiday, it seemed like everyone one had places they’d rather be. The squeak of tires and flash of light as a car pulled into a space was truly startling, more so the fact that he recognized that car within a fraction of a second from his periphery. It was her, Dana Scully, returning to work after 7pm on a Friday night. A large part of him hoped it was to see him, but as she parked her car near his, he knew logically it didn’t quite add up. Lounging on the trunk of his car, Mulder watched Scully get out of her car, her body stiffening momentarily before making her way towards his direction with a renewed confidence as she clocked the awe struck look on his face. Mulder didn’t mean to ogle but he had never seen her dressed quite like this before. Her hair pinned up displaying her neck, a dress that was soft and showed her curves, and her breasts. Good lord, her tits were out and Mulder’s brain had ceased to function. He wasn’t sure how long he had been staring at her, but Scully’s laugh and the click of her fingers brought him back to earth. She was now standing in front of him, an amused smirk on her face at his reaction. 

“Hi, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here tonight,” Scully said with an edge of awkwardness in her voice unconsciously licking her lips in that way that drove Mulder insane.

“You look very… non-FBI tonight,” Mulder replied, unsure of the exact right words to use to describe how incredible his Partner looked. 

“Thanks, I think. I have a date,” Scully bristled as she started to make her way to the parking lot stair case. 

Mulder caught up with her in a few easy strides. 

“Hold up, who is the guy? He doesn’t work here right?”

There was nothing remotely casual about the tone of Mulder’s voice, the jealous quality was begrudgingly sweet so Scully took pity on him and stopped to talk as they entered the stairwell. 

“It’s a blind date a friend set me up on, I haven’t met him before so I organized to meet in front of the Hoover building so we can get a drink nearby.”

“Do you need a chaperone,” Mulder asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, standing close to Scully, her back almost pressing against the concrete wall. 

“I think I’ll be ok,” Scully said with a laugh, placing her hand on his chest to push him back, but instead slowly rubbing large circles across his pecks. Her heart raced when her palm made contact with one of his erect nipples, but she didn’t remove her hand.

“You look really beautiful tonight Dana,” Mulder said his eyes staring so intensely into hers it was like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. 

With an anguished sigh, Mulder dropped his head down, awkwardly resting it on Scully’s shoulder like a child needing comfort. Instinctively, her hand found its way into his hair, rubbing over the nape of his neck and back again. 

“What times your date,” he whispered, doing nothing to hide the melancholy from his voice. 

“Not for another half hour, I’m early.”

“Hmm,” Mulder said with a sad acknowledgement, nuzzling his nose into her neck in a way that made Scully catch her breath. Instinctively, she found herself kissing his temple and inhaling his smell. The warmth of their bodies and their proximity to one another was intoxicating. Mulder pressed both hands onto her hips to anchor her in place as he gently kissed a spot under her ear and whispered “I wish it was me.”

Mulder pushed away from her, ready to go back to his empty apartment, while Scully went on a date with a man who wasn’t him. Feeling a tug on his arm, Mulder turned as Scully grabbed onto his hand. 

“If you want it to be you, then ask me out Mulder,” her voice was breathy but challenging as she stared him down. 

Mulder’s puppy dog eyes seemed to penetrate her soul, filled with angst and a vulnerability which Scully was helpless to resist. 

“Dana Katherine Scully, will you go on a date with me?”

Scully made a show at umming and ahhing, while Mulder dramatically contorted his face in agony. 

“Okay,” Scully finally replied with a large grin, eliciting a delighted laugh from them both as Mulder excitedly bent down to kiss her. 

It was meant to be a quick celebratory peck in the heat of the moment, but Scully’s arms wrapped around Mulder’s neck and before they knew it he had lifted her up and pressed their bodies against the wall. Scully hungrily kissed Mulder, pulling his head closer to hers, unable to get enough. Mulder’s hands wondered ever so slightly up her thigh and back down to her perfect ass, unable to explore more territory as he held her up to his hip height. 

Her legs wrapped around him, pulling Mulder closer and grinding her hips against him hard. And with that, the flood gates were open. All the years of restraint and denial crumbled as they finally admitted the physical need between them. Decency and self awareness had long left the building as Scully’s hand reached for Mulder’s rock hard cock. Stroking it over his pants she moaned and ached to feel him inside her. Mulder enthusiastically nuzzled and kissed at her breasts while Scully attempted to undo his fly. In a surreal out of body experience Scully realized she was about to fuck Mulder for the first time in an FBI stairwell, minutes before she was meant to be going on a date with another man. However, she could not bring herself to care about the impropriety of the situation, conversely it actually made her ridiculously aroused at how primal and insane the whole situation was. Any concern or hesitation she might have had on the subject vanished completely when Mulder found her left nipple and bit down on it in a way that lead to a gasp and a flood of arousal. Moving their heads back up to kiss once more, Mulder’s hand managed to free his cock and slide it against Scully’s wet cunt as he deftly moved her panties to the side.

Mulder stroked himself against Scully’s slit, bumping the head of his cock over her clit as she moaned in approval. Scully squeezed her thighs hard against Mulder’s waist, impatient for more of him. “Mulder, now,” she panted in desperation.

The relative size of his cock and the angle of their bodies, forced him to enter her at an excruciatingly slow rate. Scully felt the stretch as it struggled to accommodate his girth, and her mouth watered at the thought of riding him until she was spent and sore. With a grunt and a thrust Mulder was completely sheathed inside her and Scully felt her pussy flutter and tingle at just the feel of him inside her.

Without much leverage, Mulder rolled his hips in circles, adding a pulsating motion to fuck her without ever leaving Scully’s body. The movement felt delicious, and the feel of Mulder’s stubble against her neck as he moaned “Oh, God Scully” was enough to tip her over the edge. Scully’s back awkwardly arched against the wall, her moan and cries of ecstasy leaving no doubt as to what she was experiencing. 

Mulder was in awe as he felt her convulse around his cock, moisture gathering between them, and the unmistakable quivers driving him wild. 

Mulder wasn’t anywhere near ready to cum himself, but he felt a sense of satiation by proxy as he continued to rock into her body, gently bringing her back from the edge. 

The loud trill of a cell phone brought them both back to reality and Mulder quickly removed himself from Scully and straightened up, their hearts pounding at prospect of getting caught. The ring continued and Scully realized it was coming from her purse, the neurons once again firing in her brain, battling adrenaline and her post orgasmic haze. 

Answering the phone with a professional, “Dana Scully,” her voice did not betray any of the lewd activities that had just taken place, and Mulder marveled at her ability to compartmentalize so quickly.

“Hi Derek, I can’t really hear you I’m in the parking structure. I’ll see you outside in 10.” 

As Scully hung up the phone and was greeted by Mulder’s heart sick face. 

“You’re still going to go out with him?”

“Well I can’t cancel this late, it would be rude.”

Mulder gave a snort of derision as he straightened his pants and licking his lips to remove some of Scully’s lipstick that had made its way onto his lips. He was pouting, and while Scully would normally find it infuriating, he looked adorable all ruffled with feint traces of lipstick still on him. 

“Mulder, would you like to join with us? We’re just getting drinks around the corner.”

“Really?” Mulder asked, excited as a kid on Christmas. 

“Of course, let me just straighten up in the bathroom first and we can go.” 

They quickly walked down  the stairwell to the lobby exit, but Mulder pulled Scully back before she could open the door. 

Looking up at him with a questioning stare, Mulder bashfully smiled at her. 

“I need a hug before we face the outside world,” Mulder admitted with a vulnerability that melted Scully. 

Without hesitation Scully tightly wrapped her arms around Mulder, her body melding perfectly into his.

With a quick kiss to her head Mulder broke the hug, “come on, let’s make ourselves look presentable, we have a date.”

[poangsecretsanta]

Mulder becomes a Scully

Dana was unhappy, this much Bill knew from the moment she’d arrived. It was her first Christmas after she had recovered from her cancer and she was about to be an aunt, this should have been a jubilant holiday. 

Bill was on edge about becoming a father, with Tara’s delivery overdue his nerves were frayed and he wished his father’s stoic presence was there. Bill tried his best to rally his little sister, begged her to be present with them, but in every encounter she seemed a million miles away. 

Bill knew it was more than this mysterious case and that little girl she seemed to latch onto. He wanted to blame her Partner, that he was dragging her away from them; but the hardest fact to face was that this was all of Dana’s own doing, her choice to keep a moat between her and them. Each time he reached out to her, he felt like he was rejected; and it frustrated him to see her so withdrawn.

Bill did not understand how or why Dana was trying to adopt this previously unknown child. The thought that it could be her biological daughter made him dizzy, but a big part of him wanted this for her. This could be the blessing she needed to get her life on track and away from her FBI work. 

Bill was honored to support his sister in the adoption hearing, speaking honestly of her capacity to care for others and her ability to provide a stable home. As a Naval Officer and a blood relative, he hoped his testimony would hold more weight. 

On leaving the judge’s quarters, Bill was shocked to see Fox Mulder there, ready to be a character witness. Dana’s boss had provided a glowing reference for her via phone already and Bill could only wonder at the fact the man flew across the country to be there for her. 

With a scold and a sigh, Bill resented the man’s presence, ready to send him packing the moment he was done helping Dana. With one fierce look Maggie Scully informed Bill he would be doing no such thing and begrudgingly he had no recourse but to accept his fate.

Perhaps Bill would have remained sullen and cold, but that it was like a switch had been flicked on and suddenly Dana had arrived with them. So Bill endured his presence if only to get to spend time with his sister and for that he was rewarded. At dinner Dana was animated, laughing as Tara told her of her pregnancy war stories. Bill wanted to attribute her change in mood to her adoption proceedings looking more positive, but his wife knew better.  

“It’s him Bill. I don’t know what’s going on between them, but you need to work out how to make peace with him or else you’re going to lose her.”

Bill wanted to hold a grudge, but it was clear Fox Mulder would do anything for his sister so there was no question as to where he would be staying while he was in town. 

That night Dana was surprised to find Tara struggling to reach the clean towels in the linen closet as she went upstairs to put her paperwork away. Dana intercepted it for her with a questioning look. 

“It’s for Fox.”

Dana smiled as her brother walked over with some spare bedding and a pillow stacking it on to Scully’s arms. 

“Here you go short stuff,” Bill said with a razz in his voice, knowing his sister was poking her tongue out from behind the pile of linen. Placing them all in her room, Scully stopped in to say ‘thank you’ to Bill and Tara for letting Mulder stay with them. 

Bill didn’t mean to tear up as she hugged him but he felt connected to her in a way that had been missing for so long. Helping Tara to bed, the women laughed as Bill played nurse maid with Tara’s pillows, building a retaining wall to keep her partially upright. 

Grabbing Dana’s hand, Tara assured Dana that Fox was welcomed to stay here anytime. 

Bill nodded in silent confirmation, and Dana beamed at them both. 

The days ahead were filled with melodrama; Dana’s child battled for her health in the same hospital Tara struggled with a complicated delivery. Finally Mathew was born and sweet Emily passed away, Uncle Bill seeing her one last time through the glass window as she slept in her coma.

Holding his son in his arms Bill felt the weight of what his sister had lost and he wondered how she would ever carry on. 

The service for the little girl was brief. The family sat through Mass and once again, Bill watched Dana pull away from her family. A part of him wondered if losing a child you didn’t know about hurt as much as one you knew from inception, but his heart told him that the Scully family was wired to love their offspring no matter what. Whether he understood how or why the child came into being no longer mattered, Bill was there to mourn the loss of his young niece.  

As Bill left Dana behind in the church he wished she’d reconsider driving back with them, he needed to know she was ok. It was the bouquet of flowers he saw Fox Mulder holding as he entered the church that calmed his mind. It was such an innocuous gesture amongst all the injustices that had taken place but it meant something. 

While Bill may never consider the man a friend, he could see that he was a safe place for his sister. For all of Fox Mulder’s faults he was the one she had chosen, and that made him de facto family. 

Dana insisted on taking a Red Eye back to D.C with Fox after the funeral. Stopping over at the house to pack their things, Fox waited on the porch for Scully to change clothes and finalize her luggage. 

Bill made his way out onto the porch and noticed that Mulder tensed his body as he saw him approach. A part of him enjoyed the fact that the man anticipated an uncomfortable confrontation, but Bill was there on a mission of peace. 

“Does she talk to you,” Bill asked, trying to keep his frustration at bay. 

“Only when she wants too,” Mulder replied with a shake of his head. 

Bill gave a knowing grunt and patted Mulder on the shoulder. 

“You look after her,” Bill said with a serious warning tone. 

“We look after each other,” Mulder replied with a cocky defiance that reminded Bill of why the man grated on him.

Before Bill could make his way into the house he heard Fox Mulder’s voice.

“Hey Bill, thanks for letting me stay, I appreciate it.”  

Mulder stood up and offered Bill his hand, it was a peace offering. 

“Any time,” Bill said with a firm shake and a nod. 

Maggie Scully and Dana arrived in time to witness the exchange but knew better than to mention anything. Instead, Dana hugged her brother longer than she had in years, telling him to send lots of pictures of her nephew. As Dana hugged her brother, Maggie gave Fox another hug goodbye and ordered him to come for dinner when they all got settled at home. 

Maggie and Bill watched as the rental car drove away, silently they both understood that Fox Mulder was now part of their family.

@thursdayinspace

[atths--twice]

Brighten Up

On a case, Mulder and Scully stop at a diner. When she turns down dessert, he takes matters into his own hands.

Todays story is for Becks, who asked for a revival story with "I saw your eyes light up."

Hope you all enjoy! 🎃

Georgia

July, 2017

“God, it’s hot,” Scully said, getting in the car as Mulder started the engine. She turned the air conditioning up and directed the vents toward her, slipping her blazer off and tossing it into the backseat. 

“It is,” Mulder agreed, loosening his tie and then removing his own jacket, tossing it back to join hers. “I couldn’t live here.” 

“It gets hot at home,” Scully said, glancing at him. 

“Yeah, but not this muggy.” 

“Mulder,” she said, giving him a look. “That’s a lie. How often have we complained about the humidity?” 

“Hmm,” he said, putting on his sunglasses and looking over his shoulder. When two cars had passed, he pulled away from the curb and into traffic. 

“Your apartment got awfully hot when the air conditioning went out,” she said. 

“Shit. Yeah, it sure did. Trying to sleep in that heat was unbearable.” 

“Hmm,” she hummed with a nod and he cut his eyes at her, watching her smile as she leaned closer to the vents. 

His mind drifted to one particular hot night at his apartment when she had stayed over. Two fans had been blowing on them at full speed as they lay with no covers and minimal clothing, both sweating and moaning about the heat. They had eventually left, going to her apartment where they had turned on the air as cold as possible, until she had begun to shiver. 

“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat and looking ahead. “Uh… how about some food? What sounds good?” 

“I’m fine with whatever. Although, hmm.. soup might be good.” 

“Soup, Scully?” he asked, turning to look at her in astonishment. “Aren’t we both currently complaining about this insane heat?” 

“But we’d be inside at the diner. In the cool air. Therefore, soup would be most welcome.” 

“You’re an odd person,” he said, shaking his head as he looked back at the road, though still glancing at her. 

“How dare you call me odd, you spooky man,” she said, leaning back and smiling at him, running her fingers through her hair, and he smiled back with a nod. 

“That diner we passed earlier?” 

“Sure,” she said, letting out a deep breath as she crossed her arms. “Soup and a sandwich is really starting to appeal to me.” 

“I agree with the sandwich, but soup, in this heat, still seems crazy.” 

“I’ll save you a few bites for when you change your mind,” she said, closing her eyes and smiling again. 

“Pretty sure that won’t happen.” 

“I know you. You will.” 

He smiled, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. 

They pulled into the parking lot of the diner a couple of minutes later and got out of the car. She shook her head, pulling at her shirt to create some air as they walked into the diner, sighing happily where the cold air hit her skin. 

“See? It’s cool enough in here for a bowl of soup. And ohhh look, they have pies,” she said, walking to the display case. 

“Cold enough for you maybe,” he said, taking off his sunglasses and following behind her, looking at the pies in the case. “Mmm. Sweet potato.” 

“And chocolate cream.” 

He looked at her, seeing the happy look on her face. But then it disappeared with a slightly defeated sigh and a shake of her head. 

“Come on. Let’s get a table,” she said, walking away from the display case. 

Sitting down, they looked over the menu, deciding on something to split. 

“But not the soup, as you’ve already stated,” she said, setting the menus on the edge of the table and glancing at him with a smirk. 

“I have a spoon here with my silverware. If it gets used for soup… well,” he said, setting his utensils to the side with a shrug. She sniggered, shaking her head as the waitress walked up to take their order. 

He did eat some of her soup, more than just a few bites, while she hummed a quiet “mmhmm” and looked at him knowingly. They split their sandwiches, each taking a half, as they discussed the case they were working on. When the waitress returned to clear their plates, she asked if they wanted dessert. 

“No,” Scully said with an almost sad smile. “That’s okay.” 

“No pie?” he asked as the waitress walked away, saying she would be back with the check. 

“I can’t, we can’t, eat a whole pie.” 

“I’m sure they sell slices,” he said. 

“Nah, that’s okay.” 

“Not even for chocolate cream pie?” he teased, nodding at the waitress when she set their bill onto the table. 

“I’m good,” Scully replied, with the same nearly sad look on her face. “I’m going to use the bathroom. Meet you at the car.” 

He nodded, rising with her and heading to the front as she went to the bathroom. 

“Do you sell slices of pie?” he asked, handing over the bill and his credit card to the man at the register. 

“Of course. Would you like one?” he asked with a smile. 

“Two, please. Sweet potato and chocolate cream. Extra whipped cream on the side.” 

“No problem. I’ll have it out for you in just a minute.” 

The slices of pie in a takeout bag, safely secured in the trunk, Mulder closed it down just as Scully walked outside, her face contorting at the heat. 

“Jesus,” she said, shaking her head. “I thought it would have cooled off a little when the sun went down.” 

“Doesn’t seem likely,” he said, getting in and starting the car, the air conditioning turned up to the maximum level. 

“I’m just thankful the motel’s system is working,” she said, putting her seatbelt on. 

“Same. Although, you could always share my room. If it’s needed, of course.” 

“Yeah,” she said, looking at him as she adjusted the vents again. 

“Just putting it out there. Reminding you of your options.” 

“Hmm,” she hummed and he smiled as he backed up and headed toward the motel. 

When they arrived, they took their jackets and other items out of the backseat, the heat still stifling as bugs flew around the lights in the walkway to their rooms. 

“If my room heats up, I’ll give you a call,” she said, unlocking her door. 

“I’ll be waiting to hear from you,” he said, watching her step inside, smiling as she closed the door behind her. 

He waited a beat and then hurried to get the bag of pies from the trunk. Going inside his room, he put them in the small refrigerator. 

Undressing and leaving his sweaty clothes on the floor, he went into the bathroom to shower. 

Clean and dressed in cooler clothes, he took the bag out of the refrigerator and grabbed his room key. 

Knocking on Scully’s door, he waited, hoping she was done with her own shower. He heard the lock being turned and he smiled, holding the bag behind his back. Cool air hit him as the door opened and she stood before him. 

“I’m not leaving this room,” she stated, her face free of makeup and her hair wet as it lay against the shirt she wore, one of his old ones, he was fairly certain. “I’m cool and comfortable. So, whatever you want, it can wait until tomorrow.” 

“What if it’s for something sweet?” 

“What do you mean?” she asked, frowning as she looked him up and down. He smiled as he pulled the bag from behind his back, showing it to her as she continued to frown. “What’s that?” 

“If you let me in and out of this goddamn heat, I’ll show you,” he said. 

She opened the door wider and he smiled as he walked into her room and to the table. Turning around, he watched her as she closed and locked the door. 

“What’s in the bag, Mulder?” 

“Come over and see,” he said. She walked over and he moved aside so she could look in the bag. 

“Pie?” she asked, taking the containers out, looking at him with a smile. 

“Mmhmm,” he said, taking the bag from her and getting out the plastic wrapped forks. “I saw your eyes light up when you saw the pie. And even though you denied it after our meal… well, I know you as you know me, and I know you wanted pie.” 

“I did,” she said softly, looking back down at the pie. 

“I know.” 

She looked up at him, her eyes traveling across his face and landing on his lips. 

If they had been in a different place, their relationship not broken at the moment, he would have kissed her. Made a silly joke to hear her laugh before kissing her again. 

But, at the moment, what he was able to offer to make her smile was pie. 

“There’s extra whipped cream too,” he said, taking it from the bag. “Which we can share.” 

“Okay,” she said, stepping back and setting the containers onto the table. They sat down and he handed her a fork, taking his pie and opening the lid. 

The air conditioner kicked on again, humming quietly as they shared their pie and the whipped cream. He watched her eyes close with nearly every bite as she smiled happily and he smiled back. 

The slice of sweet potato pie, one of the best he had ever tasted. 

[randomfoggytiger]

Collector's Edition: Reworking Requiem and Mulder's Return (Part I)

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh, Requiem. Dear, sweet, why-you-gotta-do-this-to-me, Requiem.

Here are some old school-y AU fics.

Loose chronological order below~

jeri's (mulderscreek)

Whatever It Takes

The Alien Bounty Hunter came to me in a dream. He told me that he knew I was dying; the abductees from Oregon were victims of the same cancer. He told me that he had offered them a deal, and that he would offer me the same deal: I would be abducted. They would gather some tissue samples for tests. Then they would save me.

Of course, I was skeptical....

He told me Scully was pregnant.

Then I woke up.

Requiem: Mulder went willingly, hoping to be cured of brain cancer for his, Scully's, and the baby's sake.

Forte's (Gossamer) Half an Hour

"What's her chart say?" Mulder demands, oblivious to any need for quiet.

Langly gestures toward the nurse's station and scowls. "They've got her chart back there practically under lock and key," he whispers. "We haven't been able to get a look at it. I hacked into their computer system about an hour ago and there was nothing there for her yet except that she was admitted."

Requiem: Mulder corrals Mulder and TLG into good behavior when Scully is unexpectedly hospitalized.

Namarie's (LJ, mulderscreek)

All I Will Remember (mulderscreek)

I hadn't really worried that he would react to this news with anything but happiness, but it feels wonderful, anyway. I am so glad that he's here right now... wherever here is.

Almost as if he has heard this last thought, Mulder sighs and reluctantly lets go of me. "Well, I think we should try to figure out where we are."

Post Requiem: Mulder and Scully wake in the forest, disoriented.

Livia Balaban's Cunegund's Restoration (or, The Best of All Possible Worlds, Really) (1/2) and Cunegund's Restoration (or, The Best of All Possible Worlds, Really) (2/2)

It was all very dramatic, with the sun going down behind the ship, brilliant and gleaming orange behind the slowly lowering cherrypicker....

I camped out at the base of the apparatus, looking up into the ship, trying to learn as much as I could from the ground, but I couldn't see anything. It wasn't until the bucket lowered again that I saw the top of Mulder's head peek out from one edge of the circular opening. As soon as his eyes met mine, he leaned all the way forward, and flashed the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen. I forgot completely about the press, or the slight hollowing of his cheeks, or the dark circles under his eyes. All I saw was pure joy.

Post Requiem: Scully, TLG, Skinner, Krycek, and Morris Fletcher all rescue Mulder and the Bellefleur captives-- live, on national tv. Mulder has a surprise for Scully, too; but the little family can't catch a break before more Syndicate drama kicks up.

Meredith's (Tumblr) Brave New World

Her hand gravitated toward the Fruit & Fiber, but stalled inches from the box when an old memory surfaced of Mulder joking about her "nuts and twigs" breakfast. What would Mulder choose? She thought hard, but couldn't come up with anything. She'd never seen him eat cereal. He might not even like cereal.

She tamped down a wave of sadness. She knew him so well, and yet not at all. When she pulled him back to this world, their new lives would be uncharted territory, spent either together or apart. She tried not to admit the latter was a possibility.

Post Requiem: Scully stays within 50 miles of Bellefleur where she works and waits for Mulder's return.

aka Jake/aka 'Jake'/aka_Jake's

So This is Agent Mulder... (Gossamer)

Agent Mulder smells...bad. The odor reminds me of a place I visited years ago, back when I was serving warrants -- a torched animal shelter. You don't forget a stench like that. Burnt hair. Cooked flesh. Animal excrement. The whole building reeked. The same terrible air of death clings to Mulder now and the stink sets my teeth on edge.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned 8 weeks later, determined to leave again to help the Rebels. Doggett, more than anyone, gets it.

Widow Orphan (Gossamer)

"Bill was my second husband." She could see this news surprised him. He nodded, eyebrows rising toward his hairline while she continued. "I married a man, a boy actually, named John Parker when I was seventeen. I married him because I was pregnant. Don't look so shocked, Fox. Unmarried girls get caught all the time."

"I'm not judging."

She leveled a glare at him. You better not be, young man. You've got a little surprise of your own waiting back at home.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned to Maggie's house, insisting she go on the run with him. Turns out, she's rather good at duck-and-diving.

Lara Means's (Ao3) Rescue Mission 01 and Rescue Mission 03 - Comrades

She turns back toward the jet's doorway and extends her hand, then he comes out to join her at the top of the stairs.

Mulder.

Now it's real.

He's thin, too thin. And he looks weak. Scully slides an arm around his waist and he drapes his arm around her shoulder -- he has a cane in his other hand. Together they move slowly down the steps, helping each other.

Post Requiem: Krycek and Scully rescue Mulder from Ellen's Airforce Base.

spookycc's At What Price?

"*What* does he need?" she pushed.

"As I said," Cancerman went on calmly, "Something *we* cannot provide him with."

"Tell me," Scully asserted.

"Something only *you* possess."

Post Requiem: Scully sacrifices her baby to save Mulder's life.

Avalon's In Dreams

She shut the drawer, still holding the picture, and set it on top of the dresser, pulling the little stand out from behind it to prop it up. It looked nice, she thought, sitting there next to the picture of Mulder and Samantha. It looked like it belonged.

Post Requiem: Mulder's psychic childhood friend drops in to help Scully find Mulder.

Jen's (mulderscreek) and Lauren's (mulderscreek) Introspection: Return

Her hands turned to ice at that moment as she greedily drank in the message.

"He's at Georgetown Memorial, Scully, I feel it. We sent Byers to check it out. Hope you're awake to hear this."

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned four months later, chipped. Acting on a hunch, Scully takes hers out, realizing it had, somehow, glitched.

Vulpecula (Vulpecula 01 - 08 and Vulpecula 09 -14) and Phoenicia (Phoenicia 01 - 05)

And then, he's there. His head bobs lightly with his familiar gait, and his eyes seem to be searching for something. For someone?

I start walking toward him, and he turns away from me, still looking. I begin running, and I hear my voice calling out his name. He spins around, his eyes wide with surprise, and then our eyes lock. His face splits into an enormous smile, and he starts running towards me with, I'm sure, the same desperation that I'm feeling.

Post Requiem: Scully limps by with the support of her whole family; and runs into Jose Chung, Phoebe Green, and even Gibson Praise before Mulder's return. When he does, happier endings unfold from there.

Mummy Dearest

Slowly but surely, the bandages were removed. Scully was immeasurably relieved to see his legs again; they were still nicely tanned and scar-free. He was even free of the scar from the bullet that got him all those years ago. Scully thought that was a bit odd, but didn't really care too much.

Post Requiem, Crack: Mulder is returned, wrapped up in bandages.

Lolabeegood's (mulderscreek) Five Months Lost (Gossamer)

"Okay, before that…how did you get here?" she said as she looked him over for strange markings.

"Scully, you're starting to scare m…"

"Mulder!" she snapped.

"Here in the bedroom here?"

"Here in my apartment here!" she snapped.

"I have a key, remember?" Mulder looked at her strangely.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned, five months later, with false memories.

T. Griffen's Faith

All I wanted was to be alone, to grieve and feel ill in the solitude of my apartment, but Mom turned this into the event of the year. A large party was planned for December twenty- third, with every Scully and Harper family member known to man in attendance, and then just the immediate family on Christmas Day.

Post Requiem: Scully trudges along, trying to keep up her faith, while finding surprising sources of support and comfort from her family (and Mulder, after his return.)

Ten's (xffics) A Fuller Canvas

The man in the bed felt his breathing and heart quicken, and not just because of the details filling his mind.

Scully.

He knew who he was and he knew who she was.

And she was pregnant.

Mulder was very glad that he was lying down. It saved a shocked collapse.

Requiem: Mulder is returned 6 months later; and takes a peek before Scully can break her news to him.

Ambress's Tidings

Scully thought she would crack in two when, in the car, Mulder put his head down on her shoulder. She had sat in the back with him without thinking about it. At first, she thought he was asleep, but then she caught the flash of light reflecting off his open eyes in the rearview mirror.

He was watchful, prepared for fight or flight.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned, mute and barely responsive, in a park bathroom. Scully helps coax him back to himself.

Lorri's (mulderscreek) Wait Until Your Father Gets Home and Your Father Came Home (MC) and Your Father's Child (MC)

I call Skinner every hour until he can tell me when Mulder will be home. His plane won't arrive until nearly noon, but I am dressed and waiting for him by 6 a.m. At 7:15 my phone rings again. I answer it and hear a long pause, then "Scully it's me." I feel like I am going to pass out. My arm instantly drops to my belly and I cradle you in an unconscious gesture. Mulder tells me he is on the airplane, on his way home. There are so many things to ask him, but they can all wait. Right at this moment all I can do is savor the sound of my name in his voice. "Hurry," I tell him. "Hurry."

Post Requiem: Scully talks to her baby as the months bleed into one another, Mulder flies home, and her due date fast approaches.

Alcott's Exit

Mulder was in tears now, wrapping his arms tightly around his body, retreating deeper.

...There was no response.

"Listen to me," Byers said, with more firmness than he felt. "Are you listening? If you want to see her, you have to get better first. Do you understand?"

Byers was desperate; he had no idea how he'd arrange him to see her. But the spark in Mulder's dead eyes seemed to make the deception worth it.

Post Requiem: TLG are able to intercept and retrieve a wounded Mulder right before Scully goes into labor. Reluctantly, they figure out a way to work him into the secret plan.

Lee Burwasser's (mulderscreek) Quis Custodiet (1/2) and Quis Custodiet (2/2) (mulderscreek)

At last Langly sat back and angled the laptop to give Mulder a view of it. The rest got up to gather behind the two. There was a crude figure in robes and long hair behind a tall rectangle with a shorter one beside it. Langly did something with the cursor that made the robed figure flash. Mulder looked from the flashing figure to Langly, who made a solemn face and mimed banging with a gavel. Mulder nodded.

...Langly sat down and moved the black-circle figure back to its table. Another figure from the opposite table then moved to take its place. Now Byers got to loom over Frohike and do the bridge guardian routine. When Byers sat down, Langly restored the figures to their places and glanced at Mulder, who nodded and punched the blond's shoulder. Then he looked around, finally went over to Scully's desk and brought the desk calendar back to show to Scully. He riffled the sheets and gave her an eloquently questioning look. Scully spread her hands and tapped the judge figure. Mulder nodded again, shrugged resignation and put the calendar down.

Langly flung up his hands. "Ya got it."

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned with aphasia; and Scully fights tooth and nail to prevent his relative from winning caretaker rights in court.

ML/ML_is_me’s (Ao3, Gossamer, DW, Invidiosa) 

Another Gray Morning, Transfigured Night, Comes the Dawn, and Beloved Protector

"HOW IS SHE?" Mulder repeated loudly. When Skinner didn't reply right away, he added, "What aren't you telling me?"

Then all at once, he *knew*. "Scully had a baby, didn't she?" he said slowly, words and images forming in his mind as he spoke.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned a year later, face first in the dirt. Skinner and TLG find him, and decide to surprise Scully without forewarning.

The Secret Language of Babies

I couldn't even be with her during the delivery.... The best I could do was an audio monitor from the delivery room....

When I heard Will's squall for the first time, I cried. In front of Skinner and everything. I think he was crying, too. He took his glasses off and polished them vigorously, turning away from me as he did so.

When they finally brought Scully and the baby to see me, I cried again. But that was in front of Scully, and she's seen me cry before. I wanted to touch them both so badly I would have broken the thick glass separating us with my own hands. But at the time, I could barely lift my head from the pillow.

Post Requiem: Mulder reminisces on his return, slow recovery, and happy reunion.

Age Cannot Wither and Nor Custom Stale

Washington, DC, is one of the last stops they make before their ultimate destination. All of the usual monuments are there, plus more. The Esplanade and all the other open areas display more statuary and symbolic sculptures and fountains than ever before.

The most meaningful monuments to them are the personal ones. Scully directs Mulder to a small park he remembers from years ago. This is where Melissa Scully is buried, and now so is Margaret Scully. The surprise to him is that Walter Skinner also has a stone nearby.

"He could have been buried at Arlington," Mulder says.

"He wanted to be among friends," Scully replies simply. She wordlessly points out another stone, a small obelisk with three names inscribed on it....

It's not until later that it occurs to Mulder that there is no stone for their son, and by then he's unwilling to bring it up. He can see that this trip is already taking a toll on Scully.

Post Requiem: Scully is immortal-- watching her son grow up, live a life like his father's, grow old, and die-- until Mulder suddenly appears, barely aged, in a Bellefleur hospital.

Invisivellum's (Tumblr) Surreal Thing (MC)

I studied him carefully, letting Scully's words settle down like rain upon me. I knew that, if I stayed silent for a moment, she would explain. I chewed on my lower lip and focused on the baby. He was still trying with all his might to drag my hand closer to his open mouth.

I looked at his eyes.

I blinked, put my finger under his chin and tilted his face up so I could have a better look. He raised fine reddish brows at me and clamped his mouth down on the knuckle of my thumb. Something about his eyes...

I think I stopped breathing.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned 15 months later, waking to Scully and a baby that, he assumes, is another Emily.

mrkeller/Mary Ruth Keller's (FFN) Lux Perpetua

"Don't try to move too fast, you've been unconscious for a week now."

She seemed *more* than content. His partner was distinctly at ease. As more memories flooded back, he seemed to know the reason why. "Motherhood suits you, Scully."

"What?" She had cocked her head at him.

Post Requiem: Mulder returned a year later to no baby, an expanded X-Files office, and Scully promoted as its A.D.

Ellie/EllieL's The Rusted Wheel of Things

Scully pulled away, turning to sit between him and the cocoa, handing him his cup just as four girls, all with hair in braids and bows terribly similar to the dog's stylings, marched into the living room, led by Hannah.

"Mommy, where's the Ouija board?"

Mulder did his best to stifle a laugh, unsure of whether he found their hair or the question funnier. 

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned 7 years later to an adoring little ballerina.

Keleka's Heart Turned Inwards 01 and Heart Turned Inwards 02

"Agent Mulder, I'm Dr. Andrew Scully. I'm the doctor who admitted you."

Mulder was confused for a moment and then realized the mistake. "Oh, I meant Dr. Dana Scully. My partner at the FBI. Is she here?"

Dr. Scully said nothing for a moment and then stepped away to pull the curtain around the bed, offering them some privacy. He pulled up a stool and sat down next to the bed.

Post Requiem: Scully waits 30 years for Mulder-- but he's actually found by his son.

Shoshana's Almost Home (4/4)

Ironically, Mulder hadn't ended up in any medical facility they'd been monitoring; he'd hitchhiked his way to Portland, flying home in a comfortable jet. He'd been shell shocked the entire way home, gazing with disbelief at the date on all the newspapers he could muster.

His worries had been far from over, of course. Life had thrown him another curve ball on top of his seemingly extreme case of amnesia--a red-headed partner three months shy of her due date.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned with a few handicaps and mild amnesia; but other than that, he makes a recovery in time for quick wedding prep and another Syndicate kidnapping.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[bakedbakermom]

Sharing is Caring rated X // 33k // kinktober MFM threesome

Prologue: Three's Company (ao3)

Scully and Mulder have a little talk.

She sighs, gathering herself, and then it comes out carefully, tremulously, flustered and flirty at the same time. “Have you ever had a threesome, Mulder?”

Author's Notes:

Hello my dearest friends! It is my deepest pleasure to welcome you to my MSR Kinktober Smut-a-Thon. I wrote the first draft of this in a 17-day, lust-filled haze back in April-May ’24, the words pouring forth from my fingertips without my conscious will. The smut fairy kidnapped me, locked me in her basement, did wonderful, utterly unspeakable things to me—and then released me, covered in glitter and clutching 20k of the most intense smut I have ever written. I then had to go back and write Sweet Surrender to prime the pump (so to speak) and figure out what a sub!Scully head-space would really look like, and let that inform the second draft... which, as you can see, took on a life of its own. I don’t even know how to describe this fic. It’s my masterpiece, my smutty magnum opus, 33k of delicious, kinky adventure. It’s a single night of rough, fun, dirty sex between three extremely hot people. It’s longer than Animal Farm. It’s got bondage and spanking and DP, oh my! There are big feelings and sweet moments and—I kid you not—character development. You will laugh. You will cry. You will sneak off for a little private time, and I wish you all the best. It killed my computer, twice, and my poor beta a thousand times more. At times I felt like I was just standing in the room, frantically scribbling down notes while the characters had their fun. Scenes bloomed like roses; lines of dialogue came to me as if I were hearing them aloud. Surprises leapt off the page that I did not see coming. Themes wove themselves through and I only saw them when I sat back at the very end, like strands of gold in the rich tapestry of smut. I also think I invented a new literary device I am calling “Chekhov’s Pavlov,” so keep an eye out for that. This feels very much like a “What were YOU doing at the Devil’s Sacrament?” story for me. It’s a very vulnerable thing to share kinks this deep (even if they’re not all mine), but then again, you’re here reading it. Just a reminder, never mistake fanfic for reality; these are Barbies I’m smushing together, not real people with flesh and bones and feelings. RACK is best. Eternal thanks to my beloved beta, @onlineproblems, who bore witness to this entire breakdown and encouraged it in real time. Thank you for indulging my insanity, checking my grammar, and catching my dangling modifiers before they fall. Thank you for making me giggle with delight and swoon with gratitude with your insightful comments and notes. Thank you for holding my hand as I ate myself alive with nerves. And endless thanks for your art, oh god, your absolutely stunning art, which will live in my heart (and on my walls) forever. There is no one else I trust to pick my nits and bring this world to life. My love, my precious ghostly smut wife, I am squeezing your cheeks and you kissing you softly on the mouth. Now, without further adieu… Welcome to the Devil’s Sacrament, sweetheart. Shall we dance?

tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr

[goexchange-mods]

omg! Aziraphale and Crowley are fans of MSR! Watch (or ig read) them help Mulder and Scully get together in this X-Files X-over!

“Aren’t they a sweet couple?” Aziraphale sighs a lovelorn sigh. 

"They're not together."

“Really? I think they want to be.”

Featuring an appearance of the "only one bed" trope and a special cameo of the infamous movie that Aziraphale watches in a motel room.

The Good Omens Exchange is featuring one-a-day gifts each weekday and 3 gifts every weekend throughout the holiday season! Subscribe to our blog for the very best of Good Omens transformative works during the weeks of the Exchange. Our Secret Creators will be revealed at the end.

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 10/34 - new years rockin' eve

[Read on AO3]

After the pleasant, downright normal Christmas they'd had, Mulder wasn't surprised that their New Years Eve was spent being chased by zombies like something out of one of his bad horror flicks.

He did, however, get to spend it with Scully, which was all he really could have asked of the day.

Their first few days back at work had been pretty run-of-the-mill. The traffic in the hallways was a little lighter, with some agents taking additional days off until after the new year. They used their slow days to complete the adoption paperwork and send it in, which allowed them to put it out of their minds so they could finally focus on work.

Aside from Skinner briefly asking in passing if they'd actually done it (trying his hardest to appear only mildly interested), it was easy to forget the monumental step they'd taken over the holidays. Their rings remained safely tucked under their clothes while on the job, but when he was at home, Mulder liked to wear it in its intended place, finding it helped him focus his thoughts when he twisted it idly on his finger.

A mangled arm was a small price to pay for ringing in the new year with his partner by his side, all things considered. A happy ending for all, most especially for Frank Black and his daughter.

Scully watches as the older man wraps the girl in his arms, burying his face in her hair. It's a sweet sight, but something about it makes her grow pensive, her expression darkening.

“What kind of world would we be bringing a child into, Mulder?” she asks quietly, unable to tear her eyes away from the little family as they leave the room hand in hand.

Her words surprise him in their negativity, drawing a halfhearted chuckle from his throat. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Scully, but adoption usually means we’re getting a kid that’s already in the world, doesn’t it?

Her shoulders deflate a little and she casts an unamused glance in his direction, looking far more vulnerable than she typically allows herself to be.

“You know what I mean.”

He does. Of course he does.

“Well, it’s the same world people have been bringing children into for millennia,” he reasons. “And now we’re about to be in a whole new one.”

He nods back at the TV screen, tuned in to Dick Clark's coverage of Times Square. All those people, completely oblivious to the dangers lurking in this world that defy logic and reason. Zombies are the last thing on any of their minds as they count down to the new year. 

“But I believe mankind, in its essence, stays the same,” he finishes.

He'd faced this question months and months ago when Scully had asked him about IVF. Was this a life he could bring a child into? Was he a person worthy of being a father, even if only by genetics? The conclusions he'd come to had not been arrived at lightly.

“We can do this, Scully,” he says, softer. Sure. “We might have to make some changes, but… when it comes down to it, you and I are no different than anyone else wanting to raise a child.”

She gives him a disbelieving look, her eyebrow quirking into the air. He knows what she’s thinking; The reanimated corpses they'd just encountered would like a word.

“No, think about it,” he continues. “What's the one thing all parents—well, the good ones—have in common?” His question is semi-rhetorical, and she doesn't seem inclined to respond, so he answers for her. “They want what's best for their children, and they do all that they can to provide it to them because they love them. Now, I don't know about you, but I'm pretty willing to do just that. And I think you are too, if these are the things you're worried about.”

Scully sighs, looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes. “Mulder…”

“I promise to protect you and any children we may acquire from zombies and all other supernatural forces of evil, okay? Is that what you want to hear?” he adds, his joke finally drawing a smile out of her.

“Don't call it 'acquiring,’ Mulder,” she says with a breathy laugh. “That's weird.”

With the mood successfully lightened, he turns his attention back to the TV, where Dick Clark is beginning to count down.

“The world’s a-changing, Scully,” he says as he moves closer, tilting his head up to watch the broadcast. She mirrors him, standing close by his side.

“Thirty seconds, now. Thirty,” Dick Clark announces as the camera hones in on the Times Square ball, lit up in bright colors as it begins its descent. “Hug your friends and loved ones tight. What the heck, whoever that person is next to you. No time like the present!”

Now there's an idea…

“Here we go!” the announcers chant.

Ten!

Mulder looks down to his left. Well, she is standing next to him, after all. Why not?

Nine.

She's smiling. She has a beautiful smile, too. He's always thought so.

Eight… Seven… Six…

New Year's Eve is plausible deniability, right? If this doesn't work? Maybe there's a written rule somewhere he can check…

Five, four.

Well, it’s not like they haven’t done it before…

Three. Two.

Is this a stupid idea?

One.

Without further ado, Dick Clark's voice cheers, “Happy New Year 2000!” and Mulder makes his decision, leaning toward her with purpose. No turning back now.

She catches him at the last second, and by then it's too late to play it off. The only option is to follow through.

And follow through he does.

His eyes flutter closed as his lips make contact with hers, their touch light and tentative as it had been in the courtroom just a week before, only this time, he waits a moment longer to pull back. Her hand reaches up to cup his cheek, and it immediately sends his heart pounding into his throat, and he finds he can't speak. Auld Lang Syne is playing, but the sound fades from his ears.

The only thing his senses can hear, feel, taste, smell, is her.

When he opens his eyes again, she is staring at him, an unreadable expression on her face. Her hand hasn't moved, and neither does he.

“I—”

“Mulder, I—

Whatever words he was trying to conjure to explain himself die on his lips in an instant, and he can do nothing but gape at her. The air feels charged, and all at once he wishes he'd never done it and that he'd done it years ago.

His eyes flick down to her lips and then back to her eyes, desperate to know what words will come out of them next.

“I– got a call from the adoption agency,” she finishes, and his thoughts come crashing back to the present, his heartbeat pounding at an alarming rate. However he'd thought she might finish that sentence, that wasn't it. 

She's looking at him though, worry flickering in her eyes.

“Th– the adoption agency?” he asks, his good hand slackening its hold on her lower back.

She nods.

“What did they say?”

Suddenly he feels nauseous, like maybe the mixture of zombies, drugs, and potentially life changing news was a little too much for his stomach all in one night.

“They… said that our application looks good, and they want to schedule a preliminary interview.”

At this, even his fingers on his injured arm have to reach out to her, brushing against the fabric of her shirt at her waist and stretching his sling to its limit.

“What?”

She nods again in confirmation, looking equal parts scared and excited.

“Scully that's– that's great news! It's good news, right?”

He doesn't know what he'll do if she gets cold feet now. A crushing blow like that isn't exactly how he'd like to start out this century, much less the millennium. 

Her hand drops to his shoulder and she smiles, holding tight to him.

“It's good,” she confirms, though a trace of doubt still remains in her voice.

He pulls her into a hug, resigning his poor limp arm to be stuck uncomfortably between them, but otherwise holding her tight.

“Mulder, we're actually going through with this?” she asks into his shoulder.

He nods emphatically, a wide grin stretching his face. “Heck yeah, Scully!”

“They could still tell us no.”

His little pessimist. Good thing he's got enough belief for the both of them.

“Not until they've seen us and we've pled our case,” he says, pulling back to look at her. “Call ‘em back and make an appointment!”

Tears begin to pool in her eyes and she nods shakily again. “Okay,” she says, and releases his shoulder to wipe the wetness beneath her eyes. “Okay, I’ll– um… I’ll call them tomorrow.”

He wants to kiss her again. He wants to so bad, but he doesn't. Emotions are understandably high, and this entire situation is so confusing and complicated already, that he's not sure anymore where they stand.

One day, he thinks. One day he'll find the courage.

“Hey, Scully,” he says instead, placing his hand on the back of her neck to capture her attention. 

She looks up at him tearfully. He shrugs and smiles goofily, relief and hope shining in his eyes.

“The world didn't end.”

~~~

Should I? Oh, why not. One more chapter. It's the weekend.

Chapter 11/34 - confessions

The interview with the adoption agency is scheduled for Friday of that week, which Skinner happily approves time off for. That leaves less than six days to prepare, and Scully busies herself with making sure they have everything they could possibly need to maximize their chances.

The night before the big day, Mulder is ordered to come over for a last minute study session (not that he would have been unwilling if she’d asked nicely, but with the stress she’s under, it comes out as more of a command). It feels like Arcadia again, going under cover, making sure they both have their stories straight.

Only this time, their cover is more or less their real life, give or take a few necessary oversimplifications.

“So, we’ve covered employment, medical history, familial relationships…” Scully lists, kneeling beside an array of papers spread out on her coffee table. “Am I leaving anything out?”

She bites the tip of her pen, glancing over her notes with her brows furrowed in thought. Reviewing this stuff could mean the difference between a happily ever after and rejection, that’s the scariest thing. She just wants to be thorough, and Mulder—bless him—has humored her thus far, answering questions, finding solutions to explain their… less than ordinary pasts. 

It takes her a moment to notice when he doesn’t immediately answer, the silence dragging on just a little too long. Her first assumption is that he’s fallen asleep—which she wouldn’t blame him for if he did—but that assumption is quashed the moment she looks up at him on the couch, the serious expression on his face instantly shifting the mood.

“Mulder?” she asks, a worried crease appearing on her forehead.

"You know, we never talked about it," he says quietly, carefully, glancing across the coffee table at her. “Not really.”

"About what?" She’s starting to get anxious.

"The IVF."

And there they are, the three letters that still fill her stomach with dread and immense sadness anytime she hears them.

I. V. F. 

"Mulder..." she starts, but he only leans forward, reaching out across the coffee table for her hand.

"I want to. I really do, Scully. I need to talk about it. It could come up tomorrow."

"I don't really like... thinking about it,” she says softly, wanting desperately to look away from the pleading expression that she knows she can’t say no to.

"I know. But don't you think we should?” he argues. “I mean, we can't brush it away like it never happened, Scully, I won't do that. It was important to me."

She doesn’t want to hear this. Her heart twists painfully, and she slams her eyes shut to lock down the tears beginning to form, shaking her head. Sure, she knows he’d wanted it back then, had hoped it would succeed. But it’s too late. It’s in the past, and she’d like to leave it there, if at all possible. To hear him say, in as many words, exactly how much he’d invested emotionally in those tiny embryos…

She doesn’t think her heart can take it.

"Since when do you like talking about things like this?" she asks, trying once to pull her hand away. “Things that… cause you pain?”

He clings on tighter, rubbing soothing circles on the back of her hand with both of his. "I can tell you the exact moment, Scully, and it’s when you knocked on my door in a dingy motel room and asked me what those bumps on your back were."

His earnest words stun her into silence.

Rain on the windows. A story of tragedy and determination. Honest words coming from the lips of a man she’d met only days before.

That trust had been there from the start.

He stands from his place on the couch and circles the coffee table, carefully pushing aside the papers in front of her to make a space for himself to sit. "The past hurts, but somehow—” he continues, “somehow you make it easier to face. To me, at least."

She sighs, turning her head so that she can muster enough strength to answer his heartfelt plea. Articulating something like this is not her strong suit, but for him, she’ll try.

"I– I've never wanted anything more in my life,” she breathes, the admission one she has never spoken aloud. 

It’s the truth, though, and he knows better than anyone how difficult that is for her. Scully is not one for dreaming big, expecting rich blessings from the earth or her life. She, like him, has grown used to being disappointed, to having the things she wants taken away from her. He could make an itemized list, if he wanted to, of all the ways they’d been let down. Even the expectation of a clean, comfortable motel room has been slowly drained from her, and yet she had still allowed herself to hope in this.

“You know, for a minute, I really did think it had worked, that I was—" She pauses, leaving the word pregnant to hang in the air. Instead, she takes a shaky breath and continues. "Do you remember that day I got sick in the car on the way to a crime scene?"

She doesn’t have to specify which one, because it had only ever happened once, that was what was so odd about it.

"I thought that was it,” she says, “I thought that maybe—"

"I thought the same thing," Mulder cuts in.

Of course he had. She’d guessed as much that day, too, between bouts of heaving into a plastic bag in the front seat of their rental car. 

The way he treated her extra carefully, taking turns slower, making a point to turn on the blinker with every lane change on the highway, stopping at a gas station for some ginger ale… She had allowed it all, too—the special treatment—because what if she was? She couldn’t risk it until she knew for sure. If that was her only chance…

Her lower lip trembles and she ducks her head. "I tried to keep my expectations low, but..."

His finger lands on her chin, tipping her gaze back up to face his.

"It would have been pretty cool, huh?” he says, offering her a small smile for comfort. “Can you imagine telling Skinner out of nowhere that we combined our DNA in a petri dish? I think the vein in his head might have actually burst.” He laughs, and is graced with the smallest of smirks for his efforts.

"I'd have these dreams,” she continues. “What our baby might look like, what personality they'd have. Whether they'd… be more like me or like you."

His lips. Her hair. His passion. Her scientific mind.

"Well, hopefully you,” Mulder speaks, smiling at the thought. “I think you've got your hands full already with one of me. There are many who would say you were crazy even to ask me in the first place."

She looks up at him with her head tilted, her eyes softening.

"I knew what I was doing."

She can tell by the way he brushes off the compliment that he doesn’t believe her, so she doubles down.

"I'm serious, Mulder. You're brilliant, imaginative, bold, caring... I wouldn't have chosen you if I didn't want my child to share those same qualities."

She loves Mulder. She loves every infuriating little thing about him. She'd have been lucky to have a son or daughter with his kind, gentle personality, his determination to keep fighting when everything in his life is telling him he can't win. Teena Mulder didn't know what she had, with Fox Mulder as a son. He should have been loved, cared for, nurtured, supported all his life. Instead, Scully has the sense that the first and only person he has trusted to give him all that is her, and that is not a responsibility she takes lightly.

"I pictured this little boy,” he says, his lips curled in a sad smile as he speaks. “Dark sandy blond hair with just a hint of your red. Blue eyes just like yours. Jeans absolutely filthy with dirt and grass stains on the knees."

She closes her eyes, allowing the picture to form in her mind. She smiles, but it's pained. Such a beautiful thought, never to be.

"How can I miss someone so much that I don't even know?” she asks, the hurt audible in her voice. “Someone that never existed?"

Mulder presses his lips tightly together in thought, his eyes trailing over the room. 

"They say that grief is the love we have that has nowhere to go, because that person has left us,” he starts, his voice reverent and pensive. “They never talk about how to love a person we never had in the first place, or a dream that’s just out of reach. But still, I think that love feels just as real as any other kind.”

He has a way with words, her Mulder. It has been the bane of their assistant director’s existence on numerous occasions, when such existential ponderings found their way into his reports.

But now… Well, it's just another thing she loves about him. She wonders if he's allowed himself to grieve for Samantha, or if his belief that she's still out there somewhere makes him fall into that second category.

"I just wish I hadn't put us both through that,” she says. “That I dragged you into it..."

"I'm glad you did,” he’s quick to assure. “Scully, that day you asked me was one of the happiest days of my life. The future is such a messy, terrifying thing, sometimes. You showed me that it doesn't have to be that way. That there can be hope. I'd forgotten what that felt like."

She's silent, unsure of what to say in response to that. He has all the right words, and suddenly, she has none of them.

"I don't regret it for one moment, Scully. We gave it a try."

She purses her lips, forcing back tears that are threatening to spill. "I don't think I could have done it without you," she says, shaking her head. 

"Well, obviously,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a cheeky smile.

She gives him a look. "Mulder…"

"I know, I know,” he says, turning serious again. “I'm honored that you let me be a part of it." 

That she would have let him be a part of so much more. A family. Everything, if he had wanted it.

"Well, listen,” he continues, “we ace this interview tomorrow, and we're back on track. Plenty of kids out there that need a home, right? Someone's bound to pick us."

His optimism emboldens her. "I hope so."

"We got this, Scully. They're gonna take one look at you and know for certain that you're meant to be a mother."

She distracts herself from his sweet-sounding words by focusing her attention on his loosened necktie, smoothing it down with one hand. "I'm picking out your tie,” she declares. “No alien decals or wild shapes and colors."

"I think it shows personality," he says in mock defense.

She can’t help the fond smile she flashes at him, glancing up into his eyes. "Not tomorrow, it doesn't."

-.-.-

The agency they ended up going with is out in Annapolis, so on the day of their interview, they drive out together, mostly in silence. Scully fidgets with the folder full of information and other documents they might need, picking at the corner of it while she goes over the important points in her head.

Mulder holds the door open for her when they arrive at the building, and she double checks that her ring is in place on her finger before approaching the front desk to check in. They’re instructed to take a seat in the small waiting area, and Mulder follows and sits down beside her. On the coffee table in front of them are a stack of brochures, the same one she found on Mulder’s desk what feels like forever ago. That had been the catalyst for this entire affair, and now look where they are.

She never could have imagined it.

A few minutes later, a plump older woman appears from behind a door, smiling at them warmly. 

“Alright, Mr. and Mrs. Mulder?” she says, checking her clipboard.

Scully stands, followed by Mulder. “I, uh– I go by my maiden name. Scully,” she corrects.

“My apologies, Ms. Scully,” the woman says, leading them into her office and taking a seat behind a wooden desk. 

They sit down in a pair of chairs opposite her, taking in their surroundings. There are dozens of thank you cards lined up on the windowsill behind the woman’s desk, presumably from families who have benefitted from the services offered here. It fills her with a cautious hope, though does nothing to quell the restless feeling that has plagued her since she woke up this morning. Mulder has kept his cool, so far, and she wonders how he does it.

“My name's Brenda Koske,” the woman continues, introducing herself. “I’ll be your case manager throughout this process. Should we just get right into it, then?”

They nod, unable to do any more than that at the moment.

“Okay, then,” Brenda says with a beaming smile, opening up a file folder on her desk. “So, tell me about yourselves, what made you look into adoption?”

"Well," Scully says, looking at Mulder for approval. "I– We found out a few years ago that I am unable to have children. We tried in vitro fertilization last year, but... it wasn't successful."

The woman at the desk nods and jots some information down in a notebook. Scully suspects their story, so far, is a familiar one. 

"And how long have you been together?"

Scully's mouth drops open, but she isn't sure what she'll say. Before she has a chance to stammer something out, Mulder answers, "A little over seven years, now." He’s confident. Sure of his answer, despite it being a lie, or at least an egregious stretching of the truth. 

The case manager writes down some more.

"And I see here that Ms. Scully has petitioned for the adoption of a child before. Emily Sim?" she states, checking her notes.

Scully tenses, and Mulder puts a calming hand on her knee.

"It's a long story," he says, answering for her, "but Emily unfortunately passed away from her chronic illness before the adoption proceedings could get very far."

Brenda nods. "I understand that this is a difficult subject, Mr. Mulder, I'm just trying to get all the information I need. From what I see here, this child was the biological child of Ms. Scully. I'm afraid I need more of an explanation."

She knows Ms. Koske doesn’t mean any harm by asking these questions—after all, they’d prepared for them last night. But it’s still hard to hear them come up.

Thankfully, Mulder was paying attention and is more than willing to take the lead.

"My wife was treated for her infertility by a doctor we couldn't trust,” he explains. She still finds it odd to hear him refer to her in that way, but it makes sense that he does it now. He can’t very well call her ‘Scully’ in front of the woman they’re trying to convince to give them a child. 

Now comes the next part of their explanation. 

“Her ova were stolen and used without her knowledge or consent, and Emily was a result of that. It was complete happenstance that we even discovered what happened."

"I'm very sorry you went through that, Ms. Scully," the woman says, looking genuinely sorry for her. "Quite a world we live in."

You have no idea , Scully thinks, and nods in recognition of Ms. Koske’s expression of sorrow.

"And you're married?" she asks next, her pen hovering over a checkbox on the form in their file.

"Yes, just recently,” Scully answers. The box gets checked.

"Congratulations! Why the long wait, if I may ask?" Brenda says.

“I ask myself that every time I look at her,” Mulder says while leveling her with his adoring gaze. He’s dialing up the married man act, which he is definitely within his rights to do, but it still catches her off guard. She hopes he doesn’t overdo it, risking tipping off their case manager.

"It, um– It never really seemed like something necessary for us to do," Scully answers, ignoring his sickly sweet comment and hiding her blush.

Mulder turns back to Brenda and adds, "But we figured, if adoption works out..."

"We'd like to make it as simple and straightforward as possible," Scully finishes.

"It certainly will help," the agent says, nodding as she jots down another note. "Where would the child be living?"

"I– We have an apartment in Georgetown.” Scully’s heart flutters anxiously at the close call, thankful she was able to correct herself before misspeaking.

"An apartment," the woman says as she adds that to her notes. It's impossible to tell if she means it in a good or bad way, and Scully can’t make out her handwriting enough to tell.

"I have money set aside from my father's estate," Mulder cuts in, causing Scully to look at him in confusion. "We'd eventually like to buy a house, if this works out." This wasn’t something they’d talked about in any of their previous discussions, nor has he ever mentioned it before, so she doesn’t know where it’s coming from. When she catches his eye, he gives her a subtle shrug.

They’ll have to talk about this later.

"I'll put down the Georgetown address for now," Brenda says, smiling encouragingly at them. "Just a couple more questions for now, you guys are doing great." Scully exhales in relief, her shoulders relaxing just a little. "I have to ask about your work. Your medical history tells me that your jobs put you in some pretty dangerous situations. What are your plans should a child be placed into your care?"

Mulder nods and squeezes Scully's hand, encouraging her. They'd planned for this, too.

"I plan to take a step back,” she answers, “I've spoken with our boss, and he's assured me that I could return to a teaching position at Quantico while serving part time in my current department as a consultant."

"Mr. Mulder?" Brenda says, turning to him next.

"I will be doing the same."

Scully looks at him incredulously, which the woman thankfully misses. 

"It's time for us to settle down,” he continues, avoiding her questioning stare. “I think we've accomplished most of what we set out to do with our work, and we can't keep doing it forever, especially if we want to start a family. I've talked to our director about seeking out replacements for the both of us. Someone else will take over the department, while we lend our expertise as needed to the new agents."

This is the first she’s hearing about this too, but she wisely keeps her mouth shut, letting him say whatever he needs to say. Starting an argument about this now would not tip things in their favor. 

But he can’t be serious about giving up the X-Files, can he? It hadn’t even crossed her mind to ask. Arguably the main reason he started the unit was to look into the disappearance of his sister, and that case remains unsolved. Would he just walk away? Would he resent her for it eventually, if he did? 

"I'm glad to hear you're making strides in that direction,” Brenda comments, a pleased smile gracing her lips. “I was afraid we wouldn't be able to consider your application on account of your chosen field of work, but it sounds like you’re serious about starting a family.”

She writes some more and it falls silent. Mulder wraps his other hand around Scully's, bringing comfort and reassurance to them both.

"Last thing—and I'm sorry to keep bringing up difficult topics—” Brenda starts again. “Ms. Scully, you were diagnosed with cancer three years ago. Is there any chance it could return? You understand why I have to ask, don't you?"

"Yes– I understand,” Scully nods, swallowing nervously. “Um, no, I've been told there's little reason to think it will ever come back. I've been in remission over two years now."

Brenda nods and makes a final note, her pen leaving the paper with a flourish. "That's great, I'm so happy to hear that." She closes her notebook and file and smiles. "Well, you two, it sure sounds like you're overdue for a happy ending. Hopefully we can do something about that." 

She shakes each of their hands in turn, standing up from the desk to escort them out. 

"It was a pleasure to meet you, we'll be in touch as soon as your application is approved, and then we'll start looking for potential matches."

"Thank you very much, Ms. Koske," Mulder says, the perfect picture of a responsible adult worthy of becoming a parent.

Scully mumbles her own "Thank you," too overwhelmed to manage more words than that.

Mulder places a hand on her back and leads her out of the office and into the hall, standing closer to her than he usually does when they walk this way. His neck bends so he can see her face, and he whispers, "You hear that, Scully? She said when our application gets approved!"

Scully shakes her head, not wanting to get ahead of herself quite yet. 

"She said 'as soon as', not when,” she corrects.

"Same thing,” he argues. “Come on, that went well, don't you think?"

"I hope so," she says.

His stride is confident and energetic. "It did, trust me. We had all the right answers."

"I was so nervous. I knew she would ask about my cancer," she states, shaking her head in disappointment.

"She was just being thorough,” Mulder assures her. “Cheer up, Scully, the part we had to worry about is over! I'm taking you to lunch."

"Mulder, we really should just get back to work—” Scully tries. She’s supposed to be the responsible one, after all. Reining him in. Wasn’t that why she complemented him so well?

"We're celebrating. One step closer to being parents, right Scully?"

It’s time she admits it to herself: she failed at reining him in years ago.

Now, she just goes with the flow. The best surprises are around the corner when she does so. 

She hopes that this time is no different.

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

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[monikafilefan]

Jingle Bells and Jealousy 2

Through the years, we all will be together

If the fates allow

Scully is trying incredibly hard to enjoy herself tonight, humming along to Sinatra, doing her best to refrain from scanning the masses in hopes of seeing Mulder’s distinguished profile amongst the crowd. He’d said he wasn’t coming and she unfortunately believes him. Forced merriment hides her disappointment well. Smiling politely behind her wine glass at coworkers she barely knows, going out of her way to wish A.D. Kersh and his wife a Merry Christmas. She prays her cheery disposition shines a positive light upon, not only herself, but her partner as well. Wherever the hell he is, she thinks, frustrated with herself as much as she is with him.

Hang a shining star upon the highest bough

And have yourself a merry little Christmas now

She tunes out the music to contemplate whether her unintentional evasiveness with Mulder regarding her “date” is the catalyst they need after his concussed “I love you” line in Bermuda she can’t stop thinking about, or just intentionally deceptive on her part. The flame of possessiveness that flared within his eyes when he’d assumed she was dating had sparked intrigue in her own. The fact that she was initially referring to him as her date to Skinner had flown right over her brilliant partner’s head. Throwing accusations her way should have just pissed her off, but it’s been his heated reaction in the aftermath that’s left her oddly reassured in his jealousy. She’d left the bullpen feeling wanted in ways she only fantasizes about alone in bed at night as her fingers slip between her thighs.

Her heart races at that thought.

Not since her rebellious run-in with Jerse has she seen her partner similarly flustered, and she’d be lying if she said it doesn’t thrill her. With Diana Fowley’s unwelcome presence continuously prodding at Scully’s penchant for jealousy, she’d selfishly allowed Mulder’s imaginative mind to run wild with the ridiculous idea that she has somehow found the will to date someone who isn’t him.

Scully bites her lip as guilt churns up waves of nausea in her gut.

“Merry Christmas, Agent Scully,” Agent Fields, whom she recognizes from the bullpen, interrupts her thoughts. The strong scent of bourbon on his breath makes her rock back on her heels. She supposes he’s been drinking from the punch bowl she’d spotted Tom Colton spiking earlier. “Where’s Spooky?”

“Merry Christmas,” she sighs wearily into her wine glass and walks away.

She’s leaving, she decides, as she squeezes her way through the throng of swaying bodies and twinkling decor. She doesn’t really want to be here without Mulder by her side anyway. She’s turned down three drunken dance offers already and Kersh could care less if she’s here to play nice in hopes of getting off desk duty. The more time she spends at this party, the more she wishes she was lounging on Mulder’s couch, sharing cartons of bad Chinese, and watching A Christmas Story.

“Oh!” she squeaks in surprise, bumping into the stalwart chest of the man moving toward her. Her wine spills over the rim of her glass as they nearly knock one another from their feet. “I’m so sorry!”

“No, no!” he laments, holding her close as she finds her footing. “Agent Scully, it’s me who’s sorry. I saw you coming, but I couldn’t move. It’s like a mosh pit in here,” he laughs.

She chuckles in return. “Well, it seems we both got caught in the crowd.”

Holiday music continues to play far too loudly for those who aren’t three sheets to the wind as the man she now realizes is Special Agent Derek Jenkins from the fingerprint lab leans close to hear. He’s a new hire in the lab. A sweet, handsome man who has flirted shamelessly with her three times in the last week… and still, she remains unequivocally uninterested.

“Agent Jenkins, hello.”

“Call me Derek, please.” He steers her towards an empty corner, cupping her dripping wine glass with his palm. “Let me help you.”

“Oh, that’s not necess-” Before Scully protests further, the agent spins around and snags a Santa-shaped napkin from one of the mini round tables sprinkled about the reception hall, thrusting it her way. “I appreciate it.”

He waves a finger by her head. “You have a splash of wine in your hair there. By your eye.” Flustered, Scully swipes the napkin through her hair. “Missed it. I’ll get it.”

He reaches up to pinch the stray strand soaked with wine between his fingertips and tucks it behind her ear.

“Thanks, Agent Jen- Derek.” Hiding her embarrassment, she takes a step back, her shoulder knocking a bundle of mistletoe to the floor that was taped on the wall. She sighs, “I’m not usually this uncoordinated.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Derek grins brightly and picks up the plastic flower, twirling it around his finger. If she’d met him sooner, say six years and one Fox Mulder ago, she could have easily been swept off her feet by his charm. “Where’s Agent Mulder? I mean, uh, not to be abrupt, but you’re not with someone, are you?”

The hopeful gleam in his brown eyes makes her blush. The earnest, puppy dog look of them mimics Mulder when he awaits her opinion on whether or not a case is an X-File.

“I…” Scully finds she has no idea how to answer that layered question without a hint of honesty, and Christmas seems like a terrible time to lie.

Is she with someone? Her mind rewinds to moments of commitment she’d made in the past: shaking her new partner’s hand, risking her life multiple times to keep him that way, then telling him she wouldn’t change a day.

“I suppose I am,” she finally says.

Scully expects her face to flush at the admission. Expects the entirety of the FBI to turn and point at Mrs. Spooky as they collect their bets. Instead, she’s oddly at peace with her confession to someone she hardly knows.

Derek nods in understanding, as if he’d already known the answer, giving her arms a gentle squeeze. “So for clarity’s sake, you’re not interested in pursuing a relationship with… let’s say, someone like me. Not when you’re already in one.”

Scully licks her lips, her breath catching.

She could deny the unyielding hold Mulder has held on her heart since March of ‘93. They’ve never even kissed, for God’s sake. But after years of living and breathing for only each other, she can’t. She won’t.

So she smiles instead, “I suppose not.”

“Your partner, then?” Derek mumbles to himself when instant awareness pulls his pout into a smirk.

Her silence is all the confirmation they need as she and Derek share a good-natured chuckle. This unexpected run-in has somehow left her more content in her feelings than she has in a while. Despite Scully’s unease of Diana’s position in Mulder’s past, personally and professionally, she can no longer repress the way her best friend completes her.

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock

Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time

Another song reverberates through the loudspeaker nearby. The upbeat tempo matches the buoyant shift in Scully’s mood. She barely registers that Derek’s arms are still bracketing hers, or the swift way he leans down to speak closer.

“I suppose I already knew that, but thank you for being honest with me. And with yourself too, it seems,” Derek says knowingly in her ear before pressing the mistletoe into her hand. “Merry Christmas, Agent Scully.”

At that moment, someone in the crowd loses their balance and bumps into Scully from behind, jolting her forward. Derek’s lips accidently graze the corner of her mouth, and remarkably, they both ignore the mishap as if it never happened. Being bounced around like holiday pin balls seems like a regular occurrence tonight.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Scully replies and turns around just in time to see a flash of familiar green eyes narrowing in on hers.

What a bright time, it's the right time

To rock the night away

“Mulder?” Scully blinks and he’s gone, vanishing within the horde of ugly Christmas sweaters.

Scully’s heart hammers harder with every step she takes toward the opposite side of the room.

Mix and a-mingle in the jingling feet

That's the jingle bell

“Mulder!” she hollers, stretching on tip-toe to see where he’s gone. But it’s worthless. The music is too damn loud and the people too damn tall to make a difference.

That's the jingle bell

As she weaves her way through the maze of tinsel and blow-up reindeer decor, she spots Skinner wiping frosting from his candy cane tie at the dessert table. No wonder she’d never seen Mulder all the way back here. She’s trembling, rubbing her arms with worry by the time she reaches the A.D.. Panic at the realization of what Mulder must have seen and misinterpreted practically radiates through the fuzz of her green sweater.

That's the jingle bell

“Agent Scully, glad to see you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Sir, have you seen Mulder?” she blurts.

Skinner frowns down at an ink-stained paper plate he’s holding with black horns drawn atop Santa’s head. “He left already?”

Her eyes slip shut.

That's the jingle bell rooock

***

Scully shivers as she walks down the snow-dusted sidewalk. Her heels clack purposefully along the pavement, her heart beating in time with her vapored puffs of breath. She’s winded by the time she spots Mulder’s car idling at the curbside. The buttery light from the streetlamp above slices through the thick snowflakes pouring from the sky and illuminating his downcasted profile.

Scully knocks on the window.

Mulder startles, turning his forlorn stare onto hers peering in from the passenger side. He mouths her name in confusion and leans across the car to push open the door for her.

“Hey,” he says, surprised, as she climbs in and shuts the door. “Scully, you’re freezing. Where’s your coat?”

She shrugs and flexes her cold fingers in front of the blast of heat coming through the vents. “Inside where I left it.”

He’s silent for a moment. They both are, as a somber tone falls around them like the snow outside. Mulder frowns and reaches over to gently cradle her icy hands between his. They’re big and warm, and God, she practically melts the moment his plush lips drag across her fingertips.

“You came,” she whispers.

Her voice catches the moment she notices through the dimness how impressively handsome he is tonight. His black tux is taut in all the right places, hugging his strong shoulders and toned thighs perfectly.

He rubs the hot huffs of his breath into her knuckles as his honey-green eyes silently study her. “Where you go, I go, right?”

Her stomach twists tourniquet tight.

This guilt and aggravation is making her nauseous. After Antarctica, Scully knows exactly how true his statement is. She also knows she has every right to date whoever she wants and kiss whomever she pleases. But that’s not what she’s been doing, and as much as she has considered that option previously out of self-preservation, she’s never actually done either of those things for a reason. Even during the darkest days of their partnership, she has never yearned for anyone but him.

Scully laces her fingers through his. “I know.”

“Scully…”

“Shh.” She cuts him off with a bold nuzzle of her chin against their tangled hands, her free one reaching up to straighten his crooked bowtie. “You’re so handsome.”

He chuckles darkly. “Seems as though the Christmas casual memo never made it to my inbox.”

“You wouldn’t have read it anyway,” she teases.

“Ah, you know me well.”

They both smirk, their faces only inches apart, their thumbs gliding easily across one another’s. It seems two glasses of wine have softened her edges and weakened her resolve to keep her hands to herself. Wind whistling as it blows over the hood of the car breaks their locked gaze. The snow is falling faster now, layering the Taurus’s windshield in a pillowy white blanket.

Mulder squeezes her hand.

“I’m sorry, Scully.” His voice breaks. She closes her eyes and squeezes right back. “I’m sorry about a lot of things. But about what I said earlier, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to point fingers — pencils, actually,” he chuffs.

“Mulder.” Her tone conveys how much she finds his apology unnecessary in light of her own envious reactions in recent months. “I know that, too.”

“Being honest, all I want is for you to be happy. No matter who you’re with. But I thought after what happened my hallway it would’ve… Well, I was caught off guard by the thought of you dating,” he mutters with a shrug. “That’s my problem, though. Not yours, Scully.”

“I think I know what you saw in there that upset you, Mulder, but I can assure you it’s not what you’ve assumed.” Her tongue sweeps across her lip. “There was no date. There was no kiss.”

“You- there wasn’t?”

She looks him square in the eyes, because there is no one else.

“No, Mulder. I ran into Agent Jenkins — literally, and we talked. And I have to confess that I realized when you questioned me in the bullpen, I liked that you were territorial of me. It made me feel… vindicated.”

“Because of Diana.” It’s not a question but a statement born of recognition.

Scully nods, her face flushing. “But I only ever wanted to spend tonight with you.”

“Maybe Skinner was right. I do need to pull my head outta my ass,” he mumbles. Her brow arches at that. “I just thought I saw you and Jenkins…”

“But you didn’t.”

“Not really my business, though.” His curious eyes search hers. “Is it?”

She leans forward to rest her cheek against the edge of his headrest. He senses her tactile need and palms her jaw with the hand not clutched within her own. She turns into him as she contemplates her response, cascading her mouth across his thumb. It feels so good, but it’s not only his touch that has her pulse fluttering like a hummingbird, it’s all of him. It’s always been him.

“What if I want it to be?”

“That depends… is that you or the wine talking?”

She scoffs, “ Mulder -”

“How do you feel about me, Scully?” His pout twitches as he stares at her. Into her, with such unfiltered affection Scully’s heart can barely endure it all. “Because I know exactly how I feel about you. You’re my favorite person. My best friend, my one and five billion. And, I love you.”

Tears sting her eyes and her stomach swoops to her knees. She’s warm, flushed, as if her partner is the sun and he has finally shone his rays upon her upturned face.

“God, Mulder.”

“ Head injury aside, I meant what I said in Bermuda.” His forehead touches hers. “I fell in love with you, Scully.”

“W-when?” Her chest is suddenly so tight she can barely breathe. “When did you…”

“Uh, I don’t… I’m not really sure. I just know I did.”

She nods against him, because nodding is all she can do as her heart races and eyes blur. Because she’d wanted to believe his endearing words in Bermuda badly, but she was too afraid to risk it all on her misguided hope. Because as intense and frustrating as their inseparability is sometimes, their connection defies the laws of nature: the sky is blue, the sun is bright, and Scully endlessly loves Mulder.

“Scully?”

“I-” Her lashes flutter away tears. God, she’s dizzy, knowing what she’s about to do next. “I think I’ve always been in love with you, Mulder.”

He inhales sharply, maybe a little surprised by her candor. But then his hand is cradling the back of her arched neck and pulling her into a tight hug, his other arm wrapping around to caress the small of her back. “Scully.”

“You’re the only one, Mulder,” she whispers fiercely as she hugs him back, her cold nose pressed into the warmth of his neck. “You’re my one and five billion, too.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that outside of my dreams,” he whispers into her hair and rocks her back and forth along the seats, quivering in her grip as they cling to each other.

Scully presses a lingering kiss to the humming pulse point in his neck. She can feel his rushing adrenaline thundering under her lips. She smiles, her own heart racing, a little lightheaded after uttering secrets of her heart aloud. But relief of her confession rises like bubbles beneath her skin because she has said it to Mulder: the man she trusts and loves more than anyone.

Mulder pulls back and looks at her. She knows her eyes are wide and wet, her cheeks pink as she tips her chin upward, aching for him to kiss her. “I have mistletoe,” he says wryly.

Scully laughs and reaches into her pocket, pulling out the one she’d knocked from the Bureau’s wall. “Me too.”

He grins, nodding to his own red and green flower shoved in the car’s ashtray. “You think we need them?”

The husk in his voice vibrating against her jaw pulls a deep moan from her mouth. “Mulder, please. ”

He moans back while peppering soft, tender kisses across her jawline, up her cheek, and to the corner of her parted lips. She clutches his tux in her fists and gives it an impatient tug as his mouth finally melds with hers. Their kissing is gentle, insistent, and the way their tongues glide against one another sends tingles straight down her spine.

“Come with me tomorrow,” she mumbles in his mouth. Her eagerness may surprise him, but she wholeheartedly means it. She can’t and won’t hide the thinly veiled tone of desperation. She is desperate for him, after all. “Come to my mother’s.”

“Tomorrow’s Christmas, Scully.”

“I know.” Her hand dips beneath the jacket of his tux to splay her hand over his racing heart. “Christmas won’t mean anything without you, Mulder.”

His chin trembles. “Where you go, I go.”

Scully nearly sobs in relief. She dips her chin to hide her swollen-lipped smirk within the lapel of his tux.

“What're you thinking?” She feels the heat of his breath tickling her skin, his rumbling voice seeping deep into her bones.

Scully thinks that their partnership is not a mundane pairing. That it’s an intricately weaved relationship, a mass of fine-tuned threads tying them together. But she knows she cannot imagine a life without him in it.

“I think…” she lingers with her words, staring at their discarded mistletoe meant for only each other. “I think you should kiss me again, Mulder.”

“Again and again,” he promises before his mouth passionately possesses hers, their bodies tangling like twine.

“More,” she husks, and Mulder’s long leg bumps the radio’s dial, blasting “Jingle Bell Rock” through the speakers.

“And to think I thought I hated this song,” he quips with a nip to her bottom lip, kissing her again and again, just like he’d promised, until the fog on the windows is as thick as the love between them.

That’s the jingle bell rooock

[baronessblixen]

Today's prompt: 5. "You're the smartest person I know."

Fluffy-fluff set in Detour: We get to see a bit more of Scully singing to Mulder... (wc: 1,000)

tagging @today-in-fic @xfficchallenges

Fictober Day 5: If I Were The King of The World

“Joy to you and me,” Scully sings, letting the words fade away into the thicket. Even with her being quiet now, there's no silence here. Every sound is a potential danger and every snap and crackle makes her hold Mulder closer to her body. He’s warm. So very, very warm. She knows she won’t fall asleep, but she can’t help but think about how it would feel to be pressed against his warm body in other circumstances.

“Where’s the second verse?” Mulder mumbles.

“Sleep, Mulder,” she replies, evading his question.

“You stopped singing. Can’t sleep if you don’t sing.”

“You can’t hear me sing when you’re sleeping.”

“I’m not asleep yet. Come on, Scully. The second verse is the best.”

“I don’t know it,” she lies.

“If I were the king of the world,” Mulder starts and she has to bite her lip because his singing is worse than her own. “Tell you what I’d do. Throw away the cars and the something and the something, hmm, how does that go? Now your line, Scully.”

The only sound is the rustling of their outdoor gear as Mulder moves his body to get more comfortable. She waits and holds her breath. It’s just a song. The line doesn’t mean anything. She knows the lyrics by heart, having sung the song with Melissa when they were children. One day, while at the beach, her sister was singing the second verse quietly watching a group of others, and Scully, feeling brave, asked her what making sweet love even meant. Melissa smiled and kissed her hair, promising her that she’d explain it to her when she was a little bit older.

“Scully? Sing the last line.”

It has been on her mind all day. That’s a lie. It has been on her mind for many days now. Making sweet love to someone. No, not someone. To Mulder. She can admit it to herself now. Here, in the dark, damp forest, where her secret is safe among the trees. At some point in the last couple of months, her feelings have sprouted in spite of it all. Now, she can no longer bury them deep inside. She doesn’t want to anymore either. If there’s one thing her cancer has taught her, it’s that no one is guaranteed a future. When this seminar came along, her plan began to hatch. With no monsters or aliens to hunt, she figured she and Mulder could maybe, just maybe, try and catch a slice of life. But of course, they ended up here, lost in the woods, Mothmen loose and Mulder wounded.

“Did you fall asleep on me?” Mulder asks. His clothes rustle again and his elbow digs into her thigh.

“I’m awake,” she assures him. She’d tried. She’d really tried. Came to his room with wine and cheese. How much clearer could she have been? And now he wants her to sing that line. He’s good at making jokes, at flirting. The following through? Not so much.

He starts to hum the melody and then stares up at her again, making her wonder what’s going through his mind. A lock of hair is stubbornly standing up from his head, making him look impossibly young and boyish.

“It’s I'd throw away the cars and the bars and the wars,” she sings softly, correcting his earlier lyrics. The corner of his mouth twitches in amusement.

“What’s the next line then?” he asks with a voice smoother than the wine she drank without him last night.

“Make sweet love to you.” She says the words instead of singing them, hoping they’ll register somewhere in that brilliant mind of his.

“That’s it.” He sighs, burrowing deeper into her lap. He lies still and his breath is even. That’s it?

“Mulder, you’re the smartest person I know,” she says, shaking her head.

“Thank you?”

“But sometimes you just-”

“I just what?”

“Do you really not know what I was – when I came to your room with the cheese and the wine, did you really not know what I wanted?” He’s quiet for a long time, but Scully knows he isn’t asleep. They could have had this conversation in a warm, comfortable hotel room. They could have forgone the conversation altogether and just let their bodies talk. But that would have been too easy.

“I didn’t know. I figured that’s what you were doing, but… I wasn’t sure.”

“Mulder, I almost kissed you – who I thought was you – a few months ago. How can you not be sure?”

“So much for being smart, huh? What if you’re wrong about me?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if we… and then you decide it’s not worth it. That I’m not- I can’t risk that, Scully. I just can’t risk losing you again. I just got you back and I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize it.” Tears prick at the corner of her eyes.

“You couldn’t lose me if you tried,” she says, running her hand through his hair.

“Am I still the smartest person you know?” he asks, and she chuckles. She leans down even though her back protests and kisses his forehead.

“Yes, Mulder. You are.”

“Likewise, you know. You’re the smartest person I know. So I hope you know that I’m- I’m not not interested.”

“I know,” she says quietly. And she does know. She understands that he needs more time. She can wait for him.

“I just-”

“I know, Mulder. Now close your eyes and sleep so that we can get out of here tomorrow.”

“Will you sing me another song?”

“Any requests?”

“How about some Elvis?”

“You promise me that you’ll close your eyes and sleep?”

“I promise.” She takes a deep breath before she lets go and just sings for him.

“Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can’t help, falling in love with you,” she sings with a steady voice and she thinks Mulder is smiling against her. But he keeps his promise and falls asleep.

[leiascully]

X-Files OctoberFicFest Day 25: Insomnia

When he can't sleep, he talks to her.

Sometimes she isn't even there. He turns on his side, stares into the dark imagining he can see her curled up in his armchair. His mind can usually fill in enough of her side of an argument to be convincing, but he always misses the real deal. The actual Scully always manages to surprise him with some association he hasn't made or some unexpected willingness to follow the wild path his thoughts tread.

Tonight she calls. He picks up the phone on the first ring.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she says. "I don't know. I couldn't sleep."

"Me either."

For a minute, she says nothing. He listens to the barely audible sound of her breath. He can hear her shift in her bed. "It was weird today."

"It was," he agrees.

She sighs. "I suppose in some ways it's a mercy that we're still upset by the things we witness. We haven't become jaded or too accustomed to it."

"Yeah." He tucks the handset between his head and the pillow and pulls his blanket over himself. "It's good that we're disturbed."

"Should we tell him?"

"I thought that was going to be my question."

"But Mulder, it looks so bad."

"I know." He shifts. "I don't know why Skinner thought buying a toupee was a good idea. Do you think he's dating again?"

"I hope not," she says. "I don't know many women who would be drawn to someone wearing what looked like roadkill on their heads."

"Or men," Mulder says. "I assume."

They're quiet again for a bit.

"We should tell him," she says at last.

"We should." He yawns. "If he expects anyone to tell him the truth, it ought to be us. I'll just say, 'Walter, you're a damn fine looking man. Put down the hairpiece and walk away.'"

"You might get a date that way," she teases.

"As long as he buys me a nice dinner," he jokes back.

There's more silence. It's the soft, gentle kind that soothes his mind like a wordless lullaby. He feels his limbs becoming heavier. His thoughts are slow and they drift away when he tries to catch them.

"Mulder." She's mumbling. "I'm falling asleep."

"Good," he says. "Me too."

"Are you going to hang up?"

"No," he says.

"Okay," she says. "That's good."

"Yeah," he says. "It's good."

He wakes up with the receiver still pressed against his cheek and sunlight just starting to sift into his apartment. On the other end of the line, Scully is snoring just a little. He smiles to himself and hangs up. He hopes her dreams were sweet.

[slippinmickeys]

DM prompt from astrophile: “POL; where are they when they find out about Emily?”

She hears the soft flap of the tent lift and drop, his scratchy shuffle as he sets down his equipment bag, as he kicks off his shoes. There is the whisper of the mosquito net billowing as he slips through it and then the thin mattress dips. She rolls toward him, presses a hand to his warm back. He’s been in the bush for 16 days.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” he says, leaning down to kiss her. His breath is soft and peppery, and on his shirt she smells dust, the sweet scent of the gardenias that ring the camp along with a brief, sharp popcorn whiff of leopard piss.

“I was awake,” she says.

“You okay?” he asks, groaning slightly as he settles in beside her. He sleeps on the ground out there, and his bones aren’t what they were in his twenties.

“Mm,” she hums. How to tell him? she thinks.

The day was blisteringly hot, but a low rumble of distant thunder promises some relief. The storm will be brewing up from the south and she can picture the anvil-head clouds rolling in over the savanna, as she catches the first whiff of ozone. Beyond the edge of the camp she can hear the snort of a wildebeest and the patter-thump sound of an impala herd gearing up for the excitement. The rain will bring relief, but sustenance, too. Life.

“How did it go out there?” she asks.

He rolls into her, throws a heavy leg over her knees, pulls her close.

“Great,” he sighs. “More than enough for the meerkat piece.”

“How about your stuff?” she asks. “Do you…have enough to publish?”

He can hear the odd tone in her voice, and lifts his head, props it on an elbow. The first wave of rain sweeps overhead, pattering softly onto the canvas above them.

“Scully, what’s going on?”

“There was an earthquake in Haiti,” she says. “DWB asked me, Rudolph, and Singh if we could go.”

“Short stint or long?”

“Hard to say,” she says. “You know how these things go.”

He hums an affirmative.

“I’d like you to come with me.”

They’ve spent alternating months apart since she started working with Doctors Without Borders, each of them necessarily okay with the separations. He has a couple more months here, contracted out to a Discovery Channel team. On his off time, he’s been shooting for an African collection he hopes to sell to Scholastic.

His forehead crinkles in concern. “Scully is there something-”

“I’m pregnant,” she blurts.

Mulder’s face freezes, but his eyes go soft.

[onhiatus-xxsksxx]

Almost Heaven

Summary:

Mulder’s attempt to find more exciting cases to investigate while stuck in the bullpen turns into another weekend trip to the forest.

Meanwhile, Scully is faced with a tempting offer that could change both her future and their lives.

This story is complete, and I’m going to post one chapter a day.

AO3 | Back to the Beginning | @today-in-fic

Chapter 3: Drivin’ Down the Road, I Get a Feelin’

Interstate 66 Saturday, November 28th, 1998, 7:30 am

Scully turned her face towards the car window, trying to cover a yawn. They were already outside the city, heading west. Leave it to Mulder to knock on her door at 6:30 in the morning, eyes bright and restless like a five-year-old on the way to the ballpark.

You could’ve said no, her inner voice pointed out helpfully. She smiled to herself. Not likely. She loved their little adventures nearly as much as Mulder did. Not that she’d ever admit that to him. Scully gave him a sideways glance. Mulder was humming along to the radio, chewing on a sunflower side. She watched him reach into the bag between their seats, pulling out another seed and licking the salt off of its shell. No, there were certainly worse places to be on a Saturday morning than being in a car with Mulder.

And he’d brought her her cup of coffee, of course. Perfect, like always. She took a sip of the still-hot liquid and felt the caffeine enter her bloodstream, waking her up a bit more.

Scully loved their little routines as of late. They’d always been close, but since their return from Antarctica, things have shifted. She glanced into her cup, watching the coffee swirl. Now Mulder brought her coffee each morning just how she liked it. And he never left the office without giving her shoulder a little squeeze or brushing her arm before wishing her a good evening. And of course, the calls where they now talked about more than just work. She’d told him about her Sunday lunch with her mother just a few days ago, both of them laughing about the stories her mother had told. And they’d begun to end those calls with wishes for sweet dreams, good nights, and long pauses. Scully closed her eyes against the warm rush that made her face flush and her heart race.

It wasn’t like she wasn’t following her own routines now, either. She didn’t even ask when she touched him wherever she felt like it these days. Scully was surprised he hadn’t called her out yet on constantly checking him over, brushing through his hair, feeling his back and chest, or just grabbing his arm. Picking up the phone after the first ring each night probably wasn’t secretive either, she sighed. Whatever was going on, it seemed to be an underlying agreement between them that they keep doing it—unfortunately, without talking about it.

What else is new? she wondered. Their unspoken communication was great, but sometimes she wished Mulder would also use words. And you’re talking to him about it? her inner voice questioned, and she sank deeper into her seat, taking another sip of her coffee. No, she wasn’t either. That was true. But that needed to change. She was tired of running in circles.

She leaned sideways in her seat, pressing her shoulder into the back so she could watch him fully. “So, where are we going exactly, Mulder? I believe you skipped that part on the phone last night.”

Mulder turned to her briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. “Does ’Country roads, take me home’ ring any bells for you, Scully?” he grinned.

She gave him a confused look. “What does John Denver have to do with our little trip? Please don’t tell me some farmer has seen his ghost in a national forest.”

Mulder laughed and then puckered his lower lip into a pout. “No ghosts, Scully. Just some good old mystery.” He pulled out another sunflower seed from the bag and put it on the tip of his tongue. “Only two more hours, and we’ll be there. You’ll get to visit the beautiful state of West Virginia. It’ll be fun,” he added, wiggling his eyebrows.

Scully sighed and turned towards the vents, trying to adjust the airflow. The windshield wipers were working at a steady pace to keep the constant rain off the windshield. “I hope you’re not planning on us traipsing around in this weather, Mulder. Nothing says ’fun’ like being soaking wet.”

“Think of it as an adventure. I know you like adventures.”

She glanced at him, feeling almost giddy with their easy banter. “My idea of a fun adventure involves less rain and more heat. And maybe a nice, cozy cabin with a fireplace.”

Mulder raised an eyebrow and winked at her. “Keep talking, Agent Scully! What about the heat?” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Be careful what you wish for. I might be willing to turn up the heat—and you might not be able to handle it after all,” she playfully replied, not shying away from his look.

Mulder blinked, but was the first to break eye contact, his eyes refocusing on the road. He took another sunflower seed, chewing thoughtfully. “Ever heard of the West Virginia Mothman, Scully? I plan on making his acquaintance today.”

Scully kept watching him, a small smile playing on her lips. “I can’t say I have, Mulder. But if it’s got you fascinated, I’m not sure, it’s something I want to meet in the first place,” she quipped.

Mulder smiled at her indulgently. “Oh, you of little faith. Wait and see. We’re going to meet Mr. Murphy at ten, and he’ll show us to the clearing where he saw the Mothman.”

A clearing in the forest and a Mothman? So much for that fantasy of a weekend getaway, she sighed, leaning back in her seat. But secretly, she couldn’t suppress a smile. She loved it when Mulder got like that. His enthusiasm was utterly contagious and was one of the many things that had made the decision to stay on this weird assignment all those years ago surprisingly easy. She shook her head at herself. Mulder’s passion for the unexplainable might be charming, but one of these days it will get us killed, no doubt.

“You know, Mulder, sometimes I wonder if your mysterious creature sightings aren’t just your way of getting me alone in the middle of nowhere.”

Mulder chuckled, his eyes still on the road. “And what if you were right?”

Scully’s smile widened, and she leaned her head back against the headrest, closing her eyes. “Then I’d say you’re more of a romantic than I would have thought,” she joked lightly, but her tone held some seriousness.

Mulder glanced at her, a genuine smile on his lips. “Who knows, Scully? Maybe I am.”