#and all the times mulder thinks about how he's not good enough for scully

[muldermuse]

Plus One (Fox Mulder X Reader)

This is based on an ask I recieved <333 thank u for sending it through

Scully is unable to attend an event so Fox asks you to be his plus one.

“It means a lot that you’re coming tonight, I’ll uh- I’ll pick you up at your apartment at 6? Have a chat about the mission in the car and then go from there…I’m looking forward to seeing you…Scully said your dress looks good and you know that she knows more about that stuff than me *laughs*. Um, okay well this is a long voicemail so uh-right, I’ll see you in a few hours. Oh! This is Fox by the way.”

It definitely was not your usual practice to have a glass of red wine before getting ready for a mission but you had to admit that you felt nervous about tonight.  It was standard for Mulder and Scully to do something like this. To get intel about a case, they’d dress up and rub shoulders with people unknowingly involved in an X File. Sometimes they’d pose as a couple and other times they would pose as two singles trying to seek out a partner for the evening. They would collect as much intel as possible and within the following weeks; the case would undoubtedly be solved.

This was a huge case so Scully was in another state, sleeping in her car to avoid the bed bug-ridden motel that Skinner had put her up in. Fox was too nervous to ask you so you got a call from Scully late last night. The key contact Fox had been trying to speak to about this case was attending a Gala in Washington. The contact was old school, any guest to the Gala had to have a date for the evening, and of course; it was a black tie event. You were reluctant and Scully knew you would be. “Listen, if you want to fly out and take my place in this crappy rental car, which stinks of fries for some reason- I would thank you for it. But, you’ll have a great time and I know you have that black dress that you’re looking for an excuse to wear…”.

So here you are, pouring a large glass of red wine and listening to the Spice Girls as you try to focus all your nervous energy into applying your make up and curling your hair. You slip your dress on at quarter to 5. The dress was expensive and it looks it. It’s black and shimmering under the fairy lights strung over your bookshelf. It’s hugging your curves, it’s hiding any insecurities and you have to admit- you look amazing. The remaining wine in the glass slides down your throat and gives a final rush of adrenaline. Fox knocks at the door at exactly 6 o’clock.

***

He's wearing his glasses. That’s the first thing that you recognize. Not the bouquet of flowers tightly clutched in his fist, not the perfectly tailored suit or the nervous expression covering his face.

“You’re wearing glasses, I’ve never seen you wear them outside of the office.” You smile at him and he smiles back but he seems distracted. He doesn’t reply for a few seconds and as the awkward energy fills the air; he thrusts the flowers towards your hands.

“Yeah, I think they make me look smarter” He awkwardly laughs. “These are for you...obviously…you usually have peonies at your desk on special occasions so I thought you’d like them.”

“They’re beautiful, I didn’t realise that you noticed stuff like that. Maybe you’re a better agent than I suspected Fox” you wink as you go back into your apartment and place the flowers in the sink with some water. You take the moment with the faucet running to compose yourself.

God.

He looks so fucking good.

The nerves that have slowly dissipated over the past hour are suddenly back without warning. He looks so good- do you look alright? Oh god, are you not dressed up enough? Does he think you look okay? I bet he wishes that Scully was here right now, you could potentially jeopardise this entire case and you know how hard they’re both working on it.

You’re too lost in your own thoughts to hear Fox cross the room and place a warm hand against your lower back. The tension zapping through your body streams out with a deep exhale.

“I have a car waiting downstairs, we should probably go”. He holds his arm out for you with a grin and he guides you downstairs. He holds the car door open for you. Whilst you have a moment alone; you whisper to yourself an affirmation that tonight will go well.

You have no idea that Fox is doing the same thing.

***

Fox has liked you for a while and he suspects that this occasion is all Scully’s doing. There was no real reason for her to travel to Wyoming, it was some anonymous call which Fox completely doubts the validity of.  When it comes to the X Files and his career, Fox is a ‘do-er.’ He wants to get out there, prove the importance of his work and save lives.

However, when it comes to his relationships. At the minute, Fox is less active.

The moment he saw you smiling; you had never been far from his thoughts. Scully struck up a friendship with you through a mutual love of the same sandwich served a local deli. Fox would sit in on your lunch dates together, he’d always try and make you laugh- feeling an immense sense of pride when he did.

Scully had disclosed to him her feelings on your boyfriend, Jason. You had so much love to give and he seemed to be the opposite. Closed off and cold. Scully told Fox you’d been arguing more and were getting close to breaking up. When you did, Fox watched from afar as your usual bright smile never reached your eyes.

***

The car ride is filled with idle chat. The tension in the air seems to mount as you both try desperately to ignore it. Fox tells you about the Gala and what to expect. It’s more of an occasion to scope out the group rather than to gather intel on a specific target.

You don’t realise that as the car drives closer to your destination that your knee begins to bounce and your fingers fidget with the tassle on your handbag. Fox rests his hand on your knee and his thumb rubs calming small circles on your soft skin.

“You look amazing, thanks again for doing this.”

Before you can thank him or compliment him back, the car pulls to a stop and the door opens.

***

The room is grand and glamourous. It’s a decadent affair with rich red velvet curtains and carpets decorating each room. The different perfumes and aftershaves blend together to create a sweet floral scent that lingers as every person passes. It’s a crowd of black tuxedos and billowing ballgowns, everyone smiling politely with a clear hint of judgement to every passerby. The sound of the band is lost over the exchanging of pleasantries and the distinctive pop of champagne corks, followed by a polite cheer.

It's completely unlike anywhere else you have ever been or anywhere you are likely to ever go.

“I think I’m the poorest person in here by about three million dollars, Fox”

“Oh no, it’ll be way more than that,” Fox says with a wink as he hands you a glass of champagne. He moves in close enough to whisper to you and you try to ignore the sensation of his breath fanning your neck.

“See that guy over there with the red suit, he has a huge interest in extraterrestrials. It’s massive so much so that he spends around five and a half million dollars a year trying to prove they’re real. He’s got that much money it’s basically a game.”

The bubbles of champagne trickle down your throat as you move closer into Fox’s hold. He holds your waist and rotates you to look at another corner of the room. His breath remains hot on your neck and you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol coursing through your veins or his presence that is making your head feel fuzzy.

“That lady over there with the huge hat, like, ridiculously big hat.” You nod at Fox without taking your eyes off her. “The Lone Gunman guys suspect that she gets all her money from selling UFOs that crash, on the black market. She only leaves her guarded house three times a year and this is one of the occasions.”

“Suspect? So it could be something completely different.” You smirk up at Fox, he grabs another two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and hands one to you. “Who knows, maybe she makes her money selling really big hats.”

“Or maybe, the reason her hat is so big is because it’s broadcasting a message to a UFO flying over Washington”. His grin matches yours.

You clink the glasses together and without the other knowing, both of you acknowledge the butterflies fluttering in your stomachs.

***

Neither of you speak to anyone else, you find a quiet corner tucked away in the hall room and chat. You sip on a glass of wine and Fox holds a tumbler of whiskey but both drinks go warm as you get lose in the conversation with each other.

It dawns on you that before tonight, you’ve never really spoken to Fox as it’s usually a group environment or a passing hi-goodbye as you both make your way home at the end of the day.

He tells you about his family, he tells you about his favourite cases and more importantly than all of the things he’s saying to you- he’s present with you the entire time. Conversations with your ex were one sided and that was something that took months to admit. You realized your relationship with Jason was over during a conversation. You’d just got the promotion that you’d spent months working on and he asked one simple question that felt like a knife to your pumping heart.

“When were you going to tell me about that promotion?”

You had told him; of course you had. You’d told him when you first heard about it, you’d told him the planning you’d spent weeks organizing and you told him the morning of the interview.

He hadn’t heard any of it.

You’d been together over a year. You had met each other’s family, met each other’s friends, you’d fallen in love and within that conversation; you realized how far from love you both had fallen.

The big band music was gradually playing louder and louder. You’d both been straining to shout over it to keep the conversation going. Eventually, you realized a way you would be able to hear Fox better, you grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor.

***

The music was soft, flowing through the air as the lights began to dim slowly and the illuminated table decorations filled in the dark spaces. You placed your arms around Fox’s shoulders as his large hands slid down to your waist. Your heart was beating the steadiest that it had all night.

“How did you know about the peonies? I’ve never told you or Scully about that.” Your hands remained interlocked around his neck as you fought the urge to run your fingers through his hair.

“Well, I know your birthday and you had peonies on that date. When you got that promotion, you had peonies, and when uh…yeah, you have peonies.” A nervous look flashes across his face. You know what he was going to say.

“When I broke up with Jason, someone in the office got me peonies and left them on my desk. It was the only thing that made me smile that week”. The memory still makes you emotional, the week was relentless sleepless nights and non-stop crying. On the last day of the week, there was a gorgeous bunch of peonies in a vase on your desk. No note, no name- nothing.

His hands tighten around your waist as he rests his forehead against yours, “I’m glad you liked them…it was hard to see you look so sad”.

Of course it was him.

It always was.

It always is.

Before you can carry on speaking or stop the tears trying to fill your eyes. He tilts your chin to meet your eyeline with his thumb and forefinger.

“I don’t think I’ve told you how beautiful you look tonight or thanked you for this…I mean thanked you properly."

You place your head against his chest and wrap your arms around his waist, continuing to sway to the music; you hear him take a breath before carrying on.

"I've liked you for a while and god, does that sound childish to say. This means a lot to me and you being here means even more. I'd like to take you out, I can't always promise it will be this fancy...actually, I can guarantee it never will be but I want to spend time with you. In any setting, I possibly can."

He doesn't look at you and you don't look at him. It felt like a confession he needed to make but perhaps didn't have the confidence to say it to your face. Which is amazing to you because Fox Mulder doesn't strike you as someone who struggles with anxieties.

"I think this place is a bit too fancy for me, maybe we can chat more at the 24 hour diner near my apartment? I think we'll look a bit different from the usual patrons" You gesture at your black gown and his tuxedo. He smiles as he takes your hand and leads you to the exit.

Before you get back into the car, you press a kiss to his lips and thank him for the evening. For the entire journey to the diner; you hold each other's hands tightly.

#fox mulder #fox mulder fanfic #fox mulder imagine #fox mulder x reader #the x files fluff #the x files #fox mulder fluff #the x files fanfic #the x files fanfiction #david duchovny #txf fluff #txf #the x files hc #the xfiles #agent mulder fluff #agent mulder x reader #agent mulder #agent mulder smut #mulder x reader #fox mulder headcanon #fox mulder fanfiction #fox mulder headcanons #agent fox mulder headcanons #agent fox mulder #agent fox mulder hc

[bakedbakermom]

Good Morning

Rated X // 2300 words // Read on A03

tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr

Summary:

He loves her first thing in the morning.

Notes:

A little smutbiscuit for Kinktober 2023. Prompts: morning sex, frottage, (light) somno. I was 3 or 4 days into writing this fic when the painfully talented @msrafterdark posted this piece and it was like fate and the universe had come together.

He loves her first thing in the morning.

Well, he loves her all the time—volleying theories back and forth across the office over burnt coffee and crappy photocopies, singing along off-key to whatever radio station comes through the static three hours into a road trip from one corner of nowhere to another, lounging on a tiny motel bed with sharp springs and a pile of reports spread out like snow across scratchy blankets. He loves her on his couch sharing a beer after a long day, in her kitchen as they dole out boxes of takeaway (broccoli beef extra spicy for him, kung pao tofu for her, and she always nabs the carrots from his shrimp fried rice), nestled against him with her tiny feet propped up on the coffee table and a bad movie on TV. He loves her when she presses her sweet lips to his and breathes hot into his mouth, when she wraps her smooth white legs around his waist and whimpers “more,” when she clenches around him in the dark as she shatters on a gasp of his name. Oh yes, he definitely loves her then.

But he especially loves her first thing in the morning.

It’s something about how soft she is. Agent Scully is all crisp lines and barbed tongue, the creases of her suits pressed sharp enough to kill a man as she slices through the hallways of the Hoover Building like a red-headed sword of justice, eyes flashing blue steel. Agent Scully can unman the most cantankerous and blustering small-town sheriff with the twitch of one razored brow, can force Death itself at scalpel-point to surrender the most intimate secrets of the grave.

Agent Scully flashes through her days like a machete, too sharp to touch and so blindingly bright it hurts him to look at her sometimes. But Morning Scully. Oh Morning Scully…

Her edges blur in the evening, melting under his words and his mouth and his hands, but it takes until morning for her to grow butter-soft and creamy between the rumpled sheets of their bed—her bed or his, both are theirs, though this particular morning they’re secure behind door 42, the honeyed sunlight of a rare empty Sunday drizzling through the blinds and illuminating the intricate dance of the little dust motes that hang in the air. She sleeps on her side with her back to the window, the light catching her crimson hair in a nimbus that he thinks would inspire a better man to painting or poetry, but reduces him to gibbering wonderment.

He watches her sleep with something like awe. Her lips slack and slightly parted, still plump and red from kissing. Freckles sprinkled like cinnamon across her sleep-pinked cheeks, hair in a delightfully tousled disarray that makes him think of sunset clouds and cotton candy. There’s a little crease between her eyebrows as if she’s dreaming of something unpleasant, and he smoothes it oh so gently with his thumb. He doesn’t want to wake her; he’s not done looking yet. 

The sheets have shifted as they slept, revealing the hourglass curve of her side, the mole cradled just inside the firm crest of her hip. She had whimpered last night as he tongued it, a long detour on his slow journey to the oasis between her thighs. Her body is ripe with secrets to explore, his mental map of her slowly filling in as he traverses every hill and valley. He writes “here be monsters” beneath her ribs where she is too ticklish to touch, “here be angels” on the curve of her breast where the gentle scrape of his teeth makes her breath hitch. He finds heaven in the cradle of her hips, nirvana in the fragrant skin of her neck, paradise in the lush press of her lips.

Morning Scully may be soft, but Morning Mulder is getting decidedly less so by the minute.

She stirs slightly and rolls onto her back, the sheet slipping down the slope of her breast. One rosey nipple emerges into the cool morning air, pebbling quickly into a tantalizing peak, and he can’t resist anymore. He leans over her and circles it gently with his tongue, then pulls it into his mouth. He licks and sucks, feeling her flesh tighten even more, and when he scrapes his teeth against it, her chest jumps beneath him. She sucks in a breath, and her hands come up to card slowly through his hair. “Morning, Mulder,” she murmurs, her words still slurred with sleep.

“Good morning, Scully,” he answers as his mouth slides wetly to her other breast, on which he lavishes the same attention as the first, the slow and thorough consideration of his lips and teeth and tongue. Her breathing quickens, her pulse jumping visibly beneath the soft skin of her throat, and she moans low and long. He runs one hand up her leg, and her thighs part with a contented sigh; his fingers move higher until they brush against the curls of her sex, parting them to reach the hot, slick slit beneath. Morning Scully is always putty in his hands, her limbs loose and heavy, making love to him like something from a dream. “Sleep well?”

“Mmmhmm.” Her hips move in small circles as he plays between her legs, right on the line between soothing and arousing, and a blush blooms across her chest. “Wh-what time’s it?”

“Late.” He kisses his way up her neck, suckles on her earlobe until she whimpers softly. She still hasn’t opened her eyes. “I let you sleep in as long as I could stand it. Sorry.”

“S’okay.” His fingers skim her entrance and she twitches beneath him. “This is a nice way to wake up.”

“Do you want to go back to sleep?”

Her face scrunches adorably, and she makes a grumpy whining sound in her throat. “Maybe?”

He smiles into her skin, presses his fingers just barely inside her. “Do you want me to stop while you figure it out?”

Eyes still closed, lower lip between her teeth, she smiles and shakes her head. 

Her body is sleep-warm and limp as he drags her thigh over his hip, opening her to him. His erection presses into the firm flesh of her ass as he strokes her, coaxing her arousal slowly to life. He slides his fingers through the slick folds of her sex, coating them in her wetness; some of it must be from last night, when he had pressed her into the cushions of the creaking leather couch and come inside her with a cry that made the upstairs neighbor bang on the ceiling—and then again, in this bed, as she rode him like a prize pony until they both came apart at the seams. She clenched around him like a vise as they came together, and the way he spasmed inside her only set her off again, until their orgasms seemed to feed off each other in an ouroboros of pleasure that felt endless and left them both gasping, shaking, too exhausted to even roll off the wet spot, let alone clean up properly.

She’s slick halfway down her thighs.

“Fuck, Scully, you’re so wet. You feel so good.” He slides his tongue into her ear and one finger into her slippery, aching heat, and her neck arches off the bed. “You felt good last night, too, especially the second time”—and now he scrapes his teeth along the shell of her ear, slides a second finger alongside the first—“when your pussy was already full of my cum, when I could feel it leaking out of you as I fucked you.”

“Jesus, Mulder,” she gasps, and spreads herself open even more, hooking her leg behind him and shifting a little onto her side. He holds her across her stomach and gathers her partly on top of him; her head falls back on his shoulder so he can tongue the soft column of her throat, nibble the sweet ridge along her collarbone. He ruts against her as his fingers pump slowly in and out, her clit hardening beneath his thumb. One arm is still trapped against the mattress, and he wriggles it free as best he can to fondle her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers.

She moans, squirming against him and pushing her ass deliciously against his hard length, begging for more. A quick shift of her hips, an awkward moment of fumbling, and then his cock is no longer trapped between their bodies but gliding between her slickened labia, and she brings a hand down to press him more tightly against her. He thrusts languidly, trapped between her hot little fingers and her even hotter cunt; he skims across her entrance with each stroke, rubs the head of his cock against her clit, her hips rolling in counterpoint to his sweet, unhurried rhythm. She reaches backward to grab his hair, whimpering, and his newly unoccupied hand busies itself at her other breast, groping and tweaking them in tandem.

“I love making you feel good, Scully.” His voice is velvet and gravel, his cock almost painfully hard against her molten core, and he talks to keep from embarrassing himself by coming before he’s even gotten inside her. “I love making you wet, feeling your clit pulse under my fingers, my tongue.” He licks her from shoulder to ear, leaving a glistening line of saliva along her skin, then sucks on the sensitive little spot where her jaw meets her throat. Soft little oh s spill from her lips as she grinds harder against his cock, and stars crowd his vision. “I love making you come, over and over. The sounds that you make, the way you smell, the way you squeeze me with your tight, wet cunt. ”

“Oh God.” Her whole body shudders and he feels a warm trickle of arousal coat his cock. Her face turns into the pillow, muffling the increasing volume of her moans. Greedy for the sound of her, he cups her jaw to pull her into a long, sloppy kiss, swallowing each whimper as she writhes against him with growing desperation.

“Are you awake yet, Scully?”

“Yes,” she pants helplessly against his mouth, his cock gliding between her soaked folds with almost no resistance. Soft, wet sounds fill the room, broken only by her breathy moans, his desperate panting. “More,” she manages to gasp. “God, more.”

His arm tightens around her stomach, and in one smooth move he drags her fully on top of him and scoots until his back is against the headboard. Her thighs fall to either side of his and he spreads her wide, his thick cock still thrusting along her slickened sex. She drops her head back against his shoulder and he growls, “Touch yourself,” into her ear.

A moment of hesitation, a deepening blush in her cheeks, and then she obeys. He watches her hand moving in quick tight circles over her clit, brushing the head of his cock as he slides it up and down the length of her. He slips just barely inside and she cries out, chasing him with her body when he withdraws, teasing her again and again. She gasps his name between casual blasphemies, notes in a symphony of moans and whimpers. “I want you inside me,” she finally begs. Her hand is slick with her own arousal as she wraps it around his cock, pumping him slowly, holding him against her entrance. She arches back to kiss him, plunges her tongue into his mouth, unable to stop the embarrassingly high-pitched whines coming from her throat. “Fuck, Mulder, I need you inside me when I come.”

“I live to serve,” he purrs against her mouth, and thrusts firmly upward, impaling her in one smooth motion. A loud cry pours from her throat—the neighbors are definitely going to complain again—and then she’s riding him for all she’s worth, her hips rolling and the muscles in her thighs clenching as she gallops toward release.

“Yes, oh God, Mulder, yes,” she gasps again and again, breathless and wanton, her tits bouncing in his hands as he pinches her nipples and her fingers making ever-more-frantic circles over her clit. “Close, so close, harder—”

Her words melt into a loud moan as he begins to plunge into her from below, his feet braced against the bed for leverage and his cock bumping against her cervix with every stroke. “Yes, Scully,” he hisses into her ear. “I want to feel it. Fuck me until you come.”

She’s tight and clenching around him, hotter than hell and slicker than sin, and his hand leaves her breast to join her fingers, stroking her clit together. He bites her nape, hard, and with a startled “ Oh! ” she shatters, her inner walls squeezing his cock in strong, rhythmic flutters as she gushes around him.

“Christ, Scully, did you just–?! Oh my god–!” Before she has a chance to answer or even catch her breath, he squeezes her tightly against his body and thrusts hard and fast, unable to hold back any longer. His ass lifts off the bed as he pistons in and out of her, desperate for release, and when she tightens around him again he comes with a roar—someone next door bangs on the wall—spurting hot inside her until his eyes roll back in his head and his vision goes red at the edges.

He comes down to find himself spooned against her, her ass cradled in the bowl of his hips as he softens inside her. They’ve made quite a mess, but his legs are burning like he’s been running for miles, and she’s gone completely limp against him; the last thing he can imagine is getting out of bed.

Still, he tries to be a gentleman.

“Want me to make some coffee? Then maybe a shower?”

She shakes her head against the pillow and pulls his arm tighter around her body. “I think I might be falling back asleep.”

He smiles into her hair. “Want me to wake you up a little later?”

“Absolutely.”

Hope you enjoyed! As always, comments will be printed and pasted into my little self-esteem scrapbook <3

#my writing #my fanfic #msr #msr fanfic #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #the x files #txf #xf fanfic #kinktober 2023 #good morning

[deathsbestgirl]

So Never Again. Just saw this post and the way she looks up at him there is on a level with Mulder’s famous Fallen Angel eyes and his reaction to her? He doesn't melt? He chooses violence and being a dick? Please tell me why.

i LOVE this question because it is so easy to see it from scully's perspective. it's her episode. but you really have to think about mulder's perspective.

for mulder, this seems out of nowhere, and in his mind she was extremely inattentive with his informant on a case he's taking seriously. he doesn't understand what she's really asking or what the problem is, and a big part of that is she doesn't exactly either. it's almost like she's blaming him for the stand still in her life, but at the same time wants to be seen & appreciated (in a way that she understands, can feel, can see). and i don't think she could have figured it out the way she needed to with mulder. she needed the safety of talking to a stranger, someone inconsequential to her life. (like there's no way she could have that "other fathers" conversation with him lol) so ed jerse is the one to give her that. (she does with ed what she can't yet do with mulder. something neither of them are ready for and she isn't brave enough to do yet. and like. idk i just think she needed this! regardless of mulder lol)

like: "this isn't about you. or maybe it is, indirectly. i don't know." the one thing she got right is "i don't know" lol so of course mulder is confused!!

if you place leonard betts first, she's contemplating what she's leaving behind. has she had any impact working on the x files? on mulder? who is going to remember her? what evidence of her life will be left? in that office...it looks like she's had very little effect. (but i do not subscribe to this one.)

if never again is first, which i like better lollll (it makes more sense to me. i understand why people like lb first, it's more clear cut. it puts a reason behind her behavior. but i just don't think it quite fits. scully literally doesn't know what's wrong. if she was already worried about cancer, i think it would come across differently. but she's frustrated & confused and she wants for something she can't admit, express, pinpoint, articulate? idk what word i'm looking for lol) scully's just hit that point in her pattern again, her cycle...it took her four years, and after some rough cases (paper hearts – she couldn't help mulder despite how she tried, el mundo gira – a dead end. and idk, so many of their cases. and she's always wrong, he always does the crazy thing, he's always hurt)...well anyway, at the end he's still asking "all because i didn't get you a desk?" he still isn't quite understanding, until she says it's her life and he almost says "yes but it's become mine." he doesn't say it, they sit in silence, and in leonard betts, he tells her she did a good job & should be proud. all his little jokes like he's trying to make her laugh, to get back to their usual banter. because he wants to make her smile. so he understood at least a little by leonard betts. but they also come to a silent understanding. i just love the way kae talks about it. and i think the end is kind of the explanation for the beginning. the end is the real answer to the whole episode, and what it took to get there...and this post here, kae just understands him and talks about him in a way that i feel. it's exactly what i see in a way i could never articulate. (and she does my favorite thing!!! connects different moments. the characterization is so good.) and she has such a special insight to both of them, different patterns, but to me two sides of the same coin.

and so, either way, at the beginning of never again, he's completely thrown because he doesn't know. this is when their bad verbal communication and personal issues/insecurities/fears take hold. they're both so good at taking too much responsibility.

we're seeing into scully's mind a bit, but we aren't really seeing into his. but he's afraid, he doesn't want her to leave (something he's feared for a long time), he thinks space is the answer to whatever's going on. but he's also kinda needy and he can't just say that. so he calls her and they misunderstand each other again and she makes a date. he isn't trying to be an ass but he's scared & defensive, and he gets like that when she makes him nervous. like whenever she believes (beyond the sea, revelations, all souls, en ami). it feels like that to me. he's afraid, but this time he thinks he's the problem, their work is the problem. and he kinda said the worst thing he could say to her at that moment. "you were just assigned" — he has no idea how she understood that, how it hurts her. (and she's not thinking about how he means it, what he thinks/feels/fears.) and really, it's because she sucks at just saying the thing as much as he does. it takes them a long time to work out their direct communication. their unspoken communication, the way they work on their cases doesn't translate to their personal relationship. as intimate as their partnership is, working through their own issues takes time and it's those things that hinder them moving forward for so long. ya know?

i think @randomfoggytiger talks about it beautifully here — in depth essay on never again. here they touch on mulder's fear/walls & scully's insecurities/needs. it's a journey!! which they talk about here. and i forget what this one was (lol) but i'm sure i saved it for a reason: a little master post. i love the way foggy breaks things down, especially visually. it's something i could never do.

i also reblogged some other never again posts. not completely on topic but it's all connected!! (you can definitely go through my never again tag to see more probably too!)

#calimanc #asks #never again #dana scully #fox mulder #LITERALLY I DONT SAY ANYTHING #READ THE LINKED POSTS #lmaooooooo #my brain is an ouroboros tbh #mulder and scully #the x files

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 21/34 - eggs benedict

[Read on AO3]

It’s strange, staying with Sheriff Adderly and his wife Ellen during this case in Vermont. If he had his way, he’d be checked into a motel instead of infringing on their hospitality, but he’d been given no choice. They even refused reimbursement for their troubles, which did nothing to lessen the feeling—however true or untrue it was—of him being a burden to them.

Ellen Adderly had pulled out all the stops for their guest, preparing decadent meals on fine china for every meal, claiming she’d have done it whether he was there or not. He has a hard time believing that. He can’t imagine living in such a way every day of his life. He and Scully barely manage to set out real plates to eat on when they order takeout at home, and he certainly doesn’t expect her to have a three course meal set out when he gets back from work. Besides the fact that she’s always at work with him, it’s just not something he thinks is necessary. Is that something she’d want to do? He doesn’t think so. 

The routine they have works for them, that’s all that matters.

But after getting a taste of his own personal brand of domesticity, it’s… odd… to see how others do it. He’d never have thought there were so many different ways to balance home life, much less enough that he’d start to form an opinion on them. His parents had been one way—not a particularly healthy relationship—and he and Scully are… well, they’re not really anything besides roommates, but that still counts, in his book.

Whatever they are, he likes it. Far better than this constant fussing, at least.

Mrs. Adderly must notice his discomfort, because at breakfast as she masterfully puts the finishing touches on his eggs benedict, she says “I get the feeling you're not used to anyone taking care of you,” and for some reason, that assumption grates on his nerves.

He takes a measured draw from his cup of steaming coffee, swallowing back his immediate retort.

“What makes you say that?” he asks instead. She probably hadn’t meant anything by it, but it still comes off as rude. He has someone to take care of him, thanks very much. Just not exactly in the same way as Mrs. Adderly insists on taking care of her husband… and apparently Mulder too.

“I’m sorry,” Ellen says, realizing her statement had come out somewhat offensive. “I just mean… I didn’t see a wedding band.”

She nods at his left hand sitting atop the table, and he follows her gaze to the bare ring finger.

“Do you have a significant other, Agent Mulder?” she asks.

Significant? Yes. Very. Other? That’s a good descriptor. Single, married, other. Yeah, he’d select other, if this were a multiple choice question. Although he’s pretty sure that’s not what she meant.

“I’ve– um…” he starts, wondering how best to describe his situation to this woman. “I’ve got a wife, actually.” He pulls out the ring on its chain to show her. “It can be dangerous in my line of work to have it on display,” he explains lamely before tucking it back into his shirt.

Ellen smiles. “Ah, well that’s good. Don't miss out on home and family, Mr. Mulder. I imagine with all the things you see, you need that refuge more than most.”

Her words hang in the air, a bit of sage advice from a woman he otherwise has very little in common with. But before he really has a chance to think about what she’s said, Sheriff Adderly makes an appearance, and it’s back to business. Ellen excuses herself to go check on their daughter, leaving the two of them alone to discuss the case.

Mulder remains seated at the table, staring down the sheriff with a knowing look. He’d begun to suspect—and now his suspicions are all but confirmed—that the man had been unfaithful to his wife, and it makes him feel sick. Here this man has it all; a loving wife, a sweet baby that they didn’t have to jump through a million hoops to get, and yet he’s willing to throw it all away for some cheap thrills.

He’ll never understand it.

The man is no more forthcoming about his knowledge of the case than he had been before, so Mulder lets it slide for now. The last thing he wants to do is show all his cards too early and spook him. He gives him just enough to leave him rattled. To let him know that he knows . 

He lets the unspoken threat hang between them until the sheriff folds, squirming away to take a shower, or so he says. 

He’s still seething in bitter disgust when Ellen returns, carrying her sleepy baby in her arms. It’s a well-practiced juggling act, Mulder can tell, as she goes about fixing herself a plate of her now lukewarm breakfast. With only one arm, she clearly struggles to transfer strips of bacon out of the pan, and Mulder gets to his feet.

“Here, let me help,” he says, joining her in the kitchen. What he’d meant was that he could help assemble her plate, but as he goes to reach for the spatula, he instead finds himself being handed a baby, and his eyes widen comically. “Oh, right,” he says, then plasters a forced smile on his face. Sure, this was what he’d meant to do all along. 

The little girl is heavier than he’d expected. Like a sack of flour, though with limbs jutting out everywhere. It takes him a moment to adjust, his hands holding her awkwardly beneath the armpits. 

“Hi,” he says conversationally, looking down at her like she’s a ticking time bomb that could explode at any moment. The baby just blinks at him, a blank stare on her face. “Okay,” he mutters to himself, lifting her to his hip and returning to the table. He makes every effort to not look like this isn’t the first time he’s held a baby in—well, basically forever, but he’s not sure he succeeds.

Ellen smiles across the table at him and digs into her meal.

“Do you have children, Agent Mulder?” she asks, “You and your wife?”

It still makes his heart flutter to hear someone refer to Scully as such, but he supposes that to Ellen, it really is that simple. Scully is his wife, that’s all she knows.

He’d always thought conversations like this to be so dull. ‘So, Dave, how’s the ol’ ball and chain? Kids staying out of trouble?’  But, now… 

Well, it’s different now that he actually has something to contribute to the discussion.

“Yeah, actually, one on the way,” he says, giving a self-conscious little smile. 

He’s never told anybody about this other than Skinner, but he supposes there’s no harm in telling this random woman in Vermont. It almost makes him feel… normal. Like he can relate to other people over the simple fact of his impending fatherhood. A shared human experience. A milestone in his life that doesn’t involve aliens, ghosts, ghouls, or any manner of cryptozoological entity.

“We’re adopting,” he further explains. “Only a couple months left till the birth mother’s due date.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Ellen exclaims, smiling up at him over her bowl of fresh fruit. “You must be so excited!”

“Very,” he says, looking down at the drooling baby on his lap. “We never really thought it was possible. That we’d ever—” 

He pauses, the shrill tone of his cell phone breaking into their conversation.

“Speaking of my wife,” he says, flipping open the device. “Hey, Scully. How’s the stakeout going?”

Her voice crackles over the other side of the line, drawing a genuine smile out of him. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask that, Mulder, so that I can give you the good news I just received.”

His stomach does a flip. “Good news?”

He pictures her nodding, sitting in that grimy, cold room surrounded by surveillance equipment, somehow brightening it with her smile. “Krista called and we had a little chat.”

Mulder looks up at Ellen from across the table, where she’s watching him with a knowing smile. “Oh?” he says.

“Mm-hmm. And you know what she told me?”

Scully is extra cheeky this morning, huh? He misses her horribly. This is the last time he’s letting Skinner split them up for a case. After this, no more. He’s putting his foot down. What are they going to do, fire him?

“What did she tell you?” he asks, turning to instead stare at the floorboards, giving himself the illusion of privacy despite the constant watch of Mrs. Adderly.

“She told me the sex of the baby. Would you like to know?”

His heart thumps in his chest suddenly, its rhythm erratic. This, he hadn’t expected first thing in the morning. He hasn’t even finished his first cup of coffee yet.

“She finally found out?”

“Yeah, Krista said she was a lot more cooperative at this appointment than the last one,” Scully explains.

Mulder freezes.

“She?” he says, his voice raspy with awe. “It’s a girl?”

He hears Scully release a shuddering breath before her voice comes back, with all the telltale signs of happy tears that he’s come to recognize in the last few months.

“It’s a girl,” she confirms.

It’s a girl. He’s gonna have a baby girl.

“That’s– that’s amazing, Scully! That’s… wow!”

“I know,” she says. “I’m– You’re not disappointed, are you?”

“Disappointed?” he asks, furrowing his brow. “Why would I be disappointed?” 

Disappointed is the absolute last thing he’d be feeling right now. Elated is a better word. Maybe a little scared, but he’ll get over it.

“I don’t know, I just thought… You know, you talked about coaching little league, and I’m sure you want someone to watch basketball with you…”

He laughs. He can’t help but laugh. “Just because you don’t like basketball doesn’t mean other girls don’t,” he says matter-of-factly. “And have you seen girls softball teams, Scully? They’re brutal. You try getting hit by one of those giant neon yellow ostrich eggs at 50 miles an hour. I volunteered to practice with the girls once in high school. Almost lost an eye.”

“But what if she doesn’t like sports at all?” Scully asks, and he’d bet good money that she’s chewing on her lip right now, the way she does when she’s worried. “What if she’s on the chess team or plays the violin or the piano?”

Oh, Scully.

“Then I’ll learn all the names of her concertos and cheer her on at every chess tournament,” he answers simply. “Look, Scully, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you and I are both gigantic nerds. I think we’ll be prepared for whatever she’s interested in when she gets older.”

She . They can finally stop talking about her in abstract terms. A girl. A daughter.

“Your mom’s gonna flip,” he says when she doesn’t respond. Margaret Scully has a grandson, but no granddaughter. He can just see the little plaid dresses, frilly socks, Mary Jane shoes, and giant velvet bows in their future. She’ll be spoiled rotten.

“I can’t wait to meet her,” Scully says, sounding wistful. 

“Me too,” he agrees. “When I get back, we’re going out shopping again. I think maybe this time I’ll be able to hold it together in the clothes section.”

That earns him a laugh.

“I’m willing to bet it will go the same way as last time,” she teases back, and she’s probably not wrong. Just picturing this baby, a little girl like the one he’s holding now, has him emotionally on edge.

“I– I’ll talk to you later, okay?” he says, glancing up at the clock. “Let the thought of warm baby snuggles keep you from freezing your butt off.”

She sighs, the annoyance of her less than ideal assignment returning. “Thanks for reminding me, ” she intones.

They stay on the line a moment more, waiting to see who will be the one to hang up. Eventually he hears a soft click, and he smiles down at the phone in his hand. Goodbyes have never been necessary between them. Maybe that’s just another way they’re weird, but he likes it.

The baby in his lap gurgles, and he sets his phone on the table to turn his attention back to her. He sees her differently now, with the knowledge that he has a little girl on the way too.

“You’re going to be an amazing father,” Ellen says, eyes shining as she watches him.

Mulder feels his cheeks beginning to burn. “Oh. Thanks.”

“No, really,” she says more insistently. “You seem to care a lot already. And wanting to be involved… Well, that’s everything. Your wife is a very lucky woman.”

“I’m the one who’s lucky,” he says, and he truly believes it.

He’s the luckiest man on the face of the Earth.

~~~

wife guy / girl dad mulder says you get another chapter :)

Chapter 22/34 - pizza boxes

The sound of keyboards clacking fills the dimly-lit room. A greasy bag that once held at least a dozen cheap tacos from the place across town sits atop a stack of empty pizza boxes, not that the inhabitants of this particular abode pay much attention to that kind of thing. 

“Hey, here's something weird,” Langly says, looking up from the computer monitor, the unnatural light of it reflecting off his glasses.

“What? Is it Krycek again?” Frohike asks, crossing the short distance to lean over the other man’s shoulder. “What’s that little rat up to now?”

Langly adjusts the bright, warm-toned desk lamp to minimize the glare on the screen.

“No, just something strange in my sweep of government records,” he says.

“Mention of a virus? Shadow government stuff?”

Langly shakes his head. “It flagged a document mentioning Mulder and Scully's names.”

This bit of information piques Byers’ interest from across the room. “What agency? Homeland? DoD?” he asks, joining the other two at Langly’s computer.

“County court in Annapolis, Maryland,” Langly reads off the screen. “Dated December 24, 1999.”

“Open it!” Frohike demands impatiently.

It takes only a few seconds to hack the database, which is a little alarming. What would the public think if they knew how insecure county records are? But that’s a concern for another day. 

The document slowly appears on screen, and three pairs of eyes take in the information all at once.

“That's… unexpected,” Byers says.

“Married? Since when?” Frohike exclaims.

Langly looks up at him with a condescending glare and smacks the older man in the stomach. “Since Christmas, idiot, haven't you been paying attention?”

“Not that, stupid,” Frohike says, quick to respond with a slap to the back of the blond man’s shaggy head. “Since when are they an item? Did I miss something?”

“You seen a rock on her finger lately? I haven't,” Langly comments.

“Get Mulder on the phone, that little sneak owes us an explanation!” Frohike snaps, pointing a finger at Byers.

The phone rings a few times before it connects, the voice of their friend coming through on speakerphone.

“Now's not a good time, boys,” he says. There's some kind of noise in the background, someone speaking, but they can’t make out who it is. It doesn’t sound like anyone they know. 

“Mulder!” Frohike yells into the phone. “What gives, man?!”

“Yeah, bro, we'd have thrown you a bachelor party if we'd known,” Langly adds.

A sigh crackles through on the other end of the line, and Mulder murmurs something indistinguishable to someone before finding somewhere quieter to talk.

“How'd you find out?” he asks, sounding annoyed.

“Your marriage license record came up in one of our regular sweeps. No other threats, by the way,” Byers answers.

“Except maybe Frohike,” Langly jokes. “He might want to challenge you for her hand.”

Byers snickers.

“Shut up! I'm happy for them,” Frohike says, glaring at his friends.

Langly rolls his eyes. “You never stood a chance.”

“There's an explanation for this, I swear, now's just really not a good time,” Mulder says, insistent.

“What's there to explain?” Frohike asks. “You guys fell in love and got married without telling your best friends. No big deal.”

He’s not genuinely trying to guilt trip Mulder, but it does sting a little that they hadn’t said anything to them. Maybe just a little tiny guilt trip. A guilt excursion, if you will.

“It's not… really that simple,” Mulder says, his words hesitant.

“What do you mean?” Byers asks.

“I know you didn't knock her up, obviously, so what more is there?” Langly says, as delicate as a brick to the face.

“Well,” Mulder says, “I kind of did, in a manner of speaking.”

“Scully's pregnant?” Byers asks. This is shocking news. It should be impossible! “But—”

“No, Scully's not pregnant,” Mulder quickly corrects before the conversation can spiral out of control more than it already has. “But… we are expecting, actually. Hopefully.”

“IVF?” Byers asks.

“Not IVF. We tried that last year though, you're a little late to the party.”

Jeez, what haven’t they missed? Maybe the real conspiracy is whatever the heck is going on with Mulder and Scully.

“Then, what—?”

“We're adopting,” he says, interrupting them. They can almost hear his smile over the phone, all goofy and care-free. “There's a woman that selected us to adopt her baby when she’s born, so… I'm actually at this class for new parents with Scully right now. I should probably be getting back. Don't want the teacher to flunk me.”

“Wait wait wait,” Frohike says. “Adopting? How long have you guys been… you know?”

“Well we only started talking about it back in November. It's honestly moving pretty fast, but we're excited.”

“Not that,” Frohike says, waving his hands in the air. “You and Scully!”

“Oh,” Mulder says awkwardly. “Um, we actually aren't. A couple, I mean. If that's what you're asking.”

Frohike’s jaw drops. “You're kidding.”

“No, I'm not.”

“But you're married!” Langly insists.

“A formality.”

“The IVF!”

“Favor for a friend.”

“Yeah, right!” Frohike says with a laugh, sharing a disbelieving look with the other Gunmen.

“You love her, don't you?” Byers asks, sincerity breaking through his friends’ incredulity.

“If you're just gonna harass me, I'm going to hang up.”

Okay, so he’s done sharing for now. They’ll just have to try to get more out of him later.

“Mulder… what are we going to do with you?” Frohike asks, shaking his head.

“Listen, guys, I've got to go. We're learning how to change a diaper and I'd really like to not make a fool of myself, if at all possible.”

“Wait,” Frohike says. “Tell Scully congrats for us. We're happy for you, Mulder.”

“Yeah, we just think you're a complete idiot too,” Langly adds bluntly.

“Thanks, guys. We're really happy. Sorry I haven't been around, it's been crazy.”

Well, now at least they know why Mulder has been missing their poker nights and D&D lately.

“Don't worry about it, Mulder. Just—maybe tell us what's going on next time?” Byers suggests.

Mulder puffs out a laugh. “Sure, next time I marry my partner with the purpose of adopting a child, I'll let you know.”

Frohike points seriously at the phone, despite the fact that Mulder can’t see it. “Watch it, buddy, you're already on thin ice.”

“I'll talk to you guys soon,” Mulder says. “Oh, and if you're ever looking for me, I'm staying at Scully’s apartment now, by the way. I gave up my apartment.”

“Dude…” Langly says. There's something seriously wrong with those two.

“Alright, I gotta go. I'll tell Scully you say hi.” And with that, he hangs up, leaving the three amigos to take in everything they’d just learned.

“Aren't a couple…” Frohike grumbles, repeating his words. “They're a couple of idiots, I'll tell you that.”

Byers nods his agreement, and Langly shrugs. 

“Lucky kid, though.”

~~~

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#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption

[lesbianmarrow]

the thing that surprised me in syzygy was mulder eventually deciding he didn't want to sleep with detective white. at the beginning of the episode i definitely thought they were going to hook up given how flirtatious he was being toward her. it seemed like he wanted to get in her pants at first (soooo unprofessional but isnt he always) but then didn't want to anymore bc he was too torn up over how he and scully weren't getting along. i could see his initial flirting with white as him trying to escape that tension between him and scully, only of course it just made everything worse.

it's notable that this is the first time mulder is trying to hook up with someone while scully is right there. the past 2 instances happened when she was away, and i think she feels extra offended (and "humiliated" as she says) that he's doing it while she's right there. i think she even feels rejected and like she's being made to feel like she's not good enough. mulder's comments to white about scully's skepticism are so hurtful in part because they're creating an "us vs them" where the "us" is mulder and white and the "them" is scully, when usually the "us" is mulder and scully and the "them" is the rest of the world. it's not just the betrayal of this that hurts scully, it's that it's in service of mulder trying to seduce some other woman. such a petty reason for him to turn on her in that way.

i've seen fans discuss the mulder/white motel room scene as white sexually assaulting mulder, and they're not wrong, but i think it's also more complicated than that - she's definitely assaulting him in a way that's totally inappropriate, but i don't think mulder really fully gets that a woman pressuring him into sex that way is not okay, particularly when it's a beautiful woman who he's flirted with and has wanted to have sex with. the same thing happens with phoebe in season 1. (scully's absolute disinterest in exploiting mulder sexually makes a beautiful contrast to that i think. you can just feel that she would never do this, and wants to protect him from people who would.) i got the sense that mulder was protesting so hard against white's advances because there was a part of him that did want to have sex with her, but he's so conflicted and upset and guilty that he knows he would regret it, so he's trying not to let her convince him to hook up. because he feels like he COULD be convinced. still absolutely not okay on white's part - the script tries to blame it on the syzygy but that feels weak to me.

i found darren mooney's review of this episode very illuminating - he posits that it's chris carter's attempt to do a darin morgan-style comedy episode. i hadn't thought of this episode as comedic at all while watching it, but after i read that i could see where the episode was intended to be a comedy and particularly how the sexual aspects were meant to come across as funny and raunchy. like, mulder spending the whole episode trying to get with this woman only to decide he doesn't want her just as she's throwing herself at him - the situation is very screwball comedy, only when you're watching it it's not actually funny at all. i think a lot of the directing choices fight against that lighthearted comedic impulse, giving the mulder/scully conflict more weight, and i think the episode is stronger for it. it's still funny, but in a grim way. like a cocktail party where everyone's talking shit about each other and feelings are getting hurt but you can't tear your eyes away from the mess. as a comedy story i think it fails utterly but as a drama i find it compelling.

#the x files #syl posts

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

Various Storms and Saints- Chapter One

Previous Chapters: Prologue

Maybe it was because he'd never had any relatives or close friends have kids, but for Mulder, the hospital had never been a place he associated with joy.

His earliest hospital memory had been when Samantha had broken her collarbone, and since his mother had decided the incident had been his fault-- hadn't she told him a hundred times that the rope swing was too worn out to play on, so what had he been thinking?--most of what he remembered from that particular hospital trip had been his mother's cold anger. He'd been taken to the hospital two years later when Sam had disappeared, when first responders worried he might be in shock, and that visit had been no better.

All of Mulder's adult hospital experience up until this point had been similarly awful. Visiting injured witnesses or colleagues, meeting family members in the waiting room to deliver bad news, suffering through injuries of his own... and now, most recently, the interminable vigil by Scully's bedside, watching and waiting while the cord tethering her to life slowly frayed to nothing.

But now? As Mulder strode down the hospital hallway towards from Scully's room, where she sat waiting for him, alive, awake, and returned to him beyond all probability, there was nowhere else he'd rather have been. Even the drab green linoleum was beautiful to him as he raced along it towards her room. Her mother and sister had been with her earlier, and under their close watch he hadn't been able to be as free and open with her as he would have liked. Maybe today his luck would be better and she'd be on her own.

But then again, maybe not.

"Hi, Mulder!" Melissa greeted him enthusiastically before Scully had even had a chance to open her eyes. She leapt up from her seat by the bed and embraced him, catching him off guard. Over her shoulder Scully looked on with an amused expression, clearly enjoying his discomfiture. As soon as Melissa released him he approached the bed, and after a brief hesitation, he bent and kissed Scully's cheek. Her face flushed red as he straightened up, and he could feel Melissa's eyes on him as he took a seat by the bed.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Tired," Scully said, chuckling ruefully. "You'd think I'd have more energy when I've done nothing but lie in bed all this time, but...." She sighed and shook her head. "I'm still exhausted."

"You have to give yourself time to heal," said Melissa sagely. "Your body knows what it's doing. You have to trust it."

"Thank you, Melissa. As a medical doctor, I am, of course, entirely unfamiliar with the workings of the human body." Mulder laughed, his chest flushing with warmth. This was the Scully he knew, the Scully he'd missed: the dry wit, the impatience with anyone trying to tell her something she already knew better than they did.

"Doctors really do make the worst patients," Melissa intoned, and Scully scowled at her.

"It's one thing to know something clinically," Scully said. "It's another thing when you're the one stuck in bed, waiting to have enough energy to be on your feet for more than fifteen minutes at a time."

"Well, be a good patient and do what your doctors tell you," said Mulder. "The quicker you heal, the quicker you can come back... and Skinner really doesn't like me investigating cases on my own. He's probably not gonna get a full night's sleep until you're out there keeping me in check again."

Scully frowned. "Mulder," she said, "what are you talking about? The FBI has me doing autopsies. I can't exactly watch your back from the morgue." And suddenly it hit Mulder: she had no idea about any of what had happened while she'd been missing. As far as she was concerned, the X-Files were still closed, he was still on wiretap duty, and she was still expected to teach pathology at Quantico once she'd recovered enough to return to work. He grinned, about to tell her... and then stopped.

Scully's involvement with him had been exactly what had put her in danger in the first place. She never would have been abducted if she had stayed safe in the morgue. They'd taken her because she had refused to stop helping him... and because he had refused to stop asking her. If he offered her the chance to come back on the X-Files as his partner--and he had zero doubts she would take it, if he did offer--what else could happen to her down the line?

"What?" Scully frowned at him, concerned. His hesitation must have shown on his face. "Mulder, what is it?"

If he didn't ask Scully to come back to the X-Files with him, she would find out about it, one way or another. And she would be furious. He could lay out his concerns, he could try to dissuade her, but consequences be damned, it had to be her choice.

"Skinner re-opened the X-Files after you were taken," Mulder said, and the pure joy on Scully's face somehow made his heart both swell and sink at the same time. "But listen, Scully, you need to think long and hard about it before you come back to work with me."

"No, I don't." Mulder glanced at Melissa, sitting in the corner and watching the exchange with great interest, and wished he'd waited until he and Scully were alone.

"Yes, Scully, you do. They went after you because we kept working together."

"You have no way of knowing-"

"Yeah, I do. None of this would have happened if I'd left you alone." He glanced at Melissa again. "You should at least take the time to discuss it with your family. You don't need to decide right now."

"There's no need, Mulder," insisted Scully. "It's my decision. I want to work with you on the X-Files again." She set her jaw and glared at him, daring him to keep trying to talk her out of it. At a loss, Mulder looked at Melissa, who held up her hands.

"Don't ask me to intervene," she said, smiling. "You should know Dana well enough by now to know that once she decides to do something, there's no talking her out of it."

Mulder smiled reluctantly. "Yeah," he said. "I do."

------------------

Scully kept trying to hide her yawns behind her hands so Mulder wouldn't see how tired she was, but by the fourth time, it was clear she didn't need to bother. Melissa and Mulder were so deeply engrossed in conversation that she might as well not have been in the room at all. Mulder was regaling Melissa with stories of the cases they'd investigated together back before the X-Files had been closed, and Melissa, predictably, was fascinated.

"So the murdered officer's consciousness was possessing the little girl?" Melissa asked.

"Not quite possessing, not the way you're thinking. It was more of... a reimbodiment. It ended suddenly the moment Officer Morris's unfinished business with his killers had concluded."

"Wow," breathed Melissa, sitting back in her chair. "You never told me about any of this, Dana." She and Mulder looked towards the bed just as Scully unsuccessfully concealed another yawn. Mulder stood, smiling sheepishly.

"I think that's my cue to head out and let you rest," he said. He approached the bed and took Scully's hand, giving it a squeeze. "I'll come by after work tomorrow, okay? Give Skinner a call whenever you're ready and we'll get the paperwork started to get you reassigned." And with a nod and a smile to Melissa, Mulder was gone.

The moment the door had closed, Melissa sprang up from her chair and came to sit on the bed. "Wow, Dana," she gushed. "He's not just cute. He's gorgeous."

"Is he?" Scully closed her eyes and leaned back against her pillow. "I hadn't noticed." A blatant lie, of course, but right at that moment, all Scully wanted to do was sleep.

"You're really not interested in him like that?" Melissa asked, a peculiar, almost hopeful expression on her face. "Not at all?"

"He's my work partner, Melissa. And my friend."

"Then...." Melissa bit her lip. "You wouldn't mind if I asked him out, would you?"

A weight seemed to drop into Scully's stomach.

Yes. She did mind. She minded very much, in fact. But how could she possibly admit that to Melissa when she'd been trying so hard to claim that she didn't feel that way about him? She swallowed hard. She could claim that it might compromise her professionally, if Mulder and Melissa dated and it didn't work out. But....

"No, of course I don't mind," was what she heard herself saying instead.

Melissa beamed. "I'm gonna go see if I can catch him before he leaves," she said, and leaping up off the bed, she rushed out of the room.

-------------------

Mulder's hand was on the door to exit the hospital when a voice behind him called his name.

"Mulder, hang on!" He turned to see Melissa Scully hurrying out of the elevators and rushing across the lobby towards him. He crossed to meet her, immediately concerned.

"What's going on? Is your sister okay?"

"She's fine," Melissa assured him with a wave of her hand. "She's probably going to be asleep before I even get back up there. I just had something I wanted to ask you before you left." For some reason, her cheeks flushed red. "I was wondering... if maybe you might like to get coffee with me sometime?"

Whatever Mulder had been expecting, this was definitely not it. For a moment he wondered if he'd understood her correctly, but really, why else would the question make her blush unless she meant it the way he thought she meant it? Still, best to be sure. He'd misread more than a few signals in his time.

"You mean like a date?"

"I don't really like to put labels on things, but... sure, a date, if you want to call it that. I asked Dana if she minded my asking you and she was fine with it, so don't worry about that."

A confused mix of emotions settled in the pit of Mulder's stomach. Scully had told Melissa that it was fine. What did that mean? Was it "fine" as in, "I'm fine, Mulder," when she clearly wasn't fine? Or was it "fine" as in it truly didn't bother her? The thought that Scully wouldn't care at all if he went out with her sister was somehow troubling.

But Melissa was standing there, waiting for an answer. Did he want to have coffee with her? She was an undeniably beautiful woman who seemed genuinely interested in the things he had to say. He'd asked women on dates with far less to go on than that.

Really, why the hell not? It was just coffee.

"I'd like that," he said. "Let me get your number."

Melissa beamed.

#my fic #x-files fanfic #Various Storms and Saints

[baronessblixen]

O Holy No (4/10)

Today's prompt: Christmas carolers

Summary: Will Mulder and Scully finally kiss? (wc: 1,208)

Tagging @today-in-fic

Mulder is in heaven. Or something very similar to it. He and Scully are running through the deserted Hoover building, giggling like children. Her hand is in his and it doesn’t matter where they’re going because they’re together. And after last night, he couldn’t have known it would turn out this way. As much as he’d hoped for it.

He wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t have a great night. At first, he considered sleeping in his car. It seemed reasonable. There was no way he was going back to his apartment. In case Diana hadn’t listened and was still there. Eventually, he went to the Gunmen who took him in without question and let him sleep on their couch. Except he didn’t sleep. He thought about Scully all night long. Trying to come up with ways to make her see what he was feeling. Just like he had been trying for months.

After their baseball date that one starry night, he was convinced he had succeeded. That was before someone decided to crack his skull open and play hide and seek with his brain. They got through that, too. Once again it was Diana who almost broke them. He doesn’t know what – or who – convinced Scully last night, but he’s thanking every deity in the sky for his luck.

He arrived at the Christmas party with the simplest of plans: find her in the crowd, confess his love for her and hope for the best. The best has happened without him having to lift a finger. He grins, letting Scully lead. That has always been the way to her heart.

“Where are we going?” he asks her.

“I don’t know,” she admits. “Just- away.”

That’s enough for him. They’re standing in front of the elevator, waiting. Their hands till entwined, they turn to each other. They’re both slightly out of breath, but breathing in sync. The smile on Scully’s face is carefree and reckless. He doesn’t know what he looks like, can’t even begin to guess, but he knows he’s full of love for her.

She said she’s scared and he’s taking it to heart. He won’t confess his love for her now, or here. The words want out, but he can keep them inside a while longer. Until she’s ready to hear them and not give him another “Oh, brother”. He knows what she’s feeling. He knows it’s love. He’s seen it in bright colors, has heard it loud and clear when he could read her mind. For now, that’s all he needs.

“Away sounds good,” he says, stepping closer to her. The elevator is taking its time. Standing here in a hallway isn’t the most romantic setting for a first kiss. Her only stipulation though was for them to get away from their ex-partners. What were the chances of Diana and Ethan being there? They could have avoided this if only they’d talked beforehand. But they’ll never learn.

“Why are you smiling?” she asks, sporting a smile herself.

“You,” he says simply. “You make me smile.” She blushes furiously and it makes him hold her closer. Anyone could see them here but so far, she doesn’t seem to mind. He, of course, couldn’t care less who sees them.

“Where is that damn elevator?” she mumbles, slipping from his embrace and pressing the button a few more times. He follows her, needing to be close.

“Hey you,” he says quietly and it sounds loud here with no one around. She turns to him and tips up her face. He’s been reading her expressions for years. He knows this one; it’s impatience. She, too, wants this. Their first kiss. All they have to do is take that last step. But Mulder hesitates. Should he just plunge in or resist and wait until they’re out of here?

“Mulder?” He’s been thinking so hard, analyzing this to death, that he hasn’t noticed how close they’ve come. Like magnets, they’ve drawn close. Their bodies have no doubts or tribulations. They know exactly what they want. Their heads are the problems.

“I can’t wait,” he says, his eyes fluttering shut. Their heads move closer and there she is; he can smell her. Her breath comes fast, and so does his. Their noses bump together in their blind approach and they both giggle. Mulder cracks one eye open to see hers closed, and her mouth open slightly. An invitation. She, too, doesn’t want to wait any longer.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yes,” she breathes and he can taste the word on his lips. This is the moment. This is it. His heart is hammering against his chest and his whole body buzzes. There’s music somewhere in his head, growing louder and louder. Their lips brush for the first time and then, in that same instance, the elevator dings and the doors open. They jump apart flustered and come face to face with the smiling faces of a group of Christmas carolers dressed as elves and reindeer.

“Silver Bells,” one of them sings, and the others join in, “It’s Christmas time in the city. Ring-a-ling, hear them ring.” Mulder stares at the carolers, dressed in green and red before his eyes find Scully. She’s biting her lip, her cheeks red as ripe tomatoes, and her eyes full of glee. He smiles, touching his lips absent-mindedly. They tingle in anticipation of what’s to come. But first, he takes a deep breath, and when the carolers are back on the chorus, he joins in.

“Ring-a-ling,” the carolers sing and Mulder answers with a slightly out-of-tune “ring-a-ling" of his own. He grins at Scully all the while, and she looks at him as if he’s hung the moon. They may not be kissing yet, but this moment is theirs all the same.

“Hey, you should join us.” One of the carolers shakes his hand after the song. “We’re here for the Christmas party.”

“Maybe next year,” Mulder says. “I have a date.” The whole group turns to look at Scully, who’s slipping away into the elevator, barely waiting for Mulder to join her.

“We need to get out of here,” she says.

“I will follow wherever you go,” Mulder says. The elevator takes them downstairs, and then, a few glorious moments later, they’re outside. “I took a cab here.”

“So did I,” Scully says.

“Should we-” He doesn’t get to ask his question because just then, a snowflake lands on his nose. Then another, and another, and another. Scully lifts her face to the sky, snowflakes catching in her lashes. He’s been waiting for the perfect moment, and he doesn’t know who he has to thank, but he knows he won’t wait another second.

He touches her arm and she turns to him, her mouth turned upwards. He pulls her close and she crashes into his chest. He lowers his head, their mouths meeting halfway. Finally. Their lips moving against each other, their tongues getting acquainted, he thinks he hears music again. But he only smiles, kissing her until they’re both out of breath.

“I’d ask to take you home,” Mulder says, not letting her out of his arms, “but-”

“I’m taking you home with me,” Scully says and it’s settled.

He’s going home with Scully.

#ficmas2023 #oholyno #yeah the fluff is here to stay #tomorrow: humor! (i hope) #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight: You Send Me

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Note: when I started writing this story, I knew that Scully was going to have a memory of Mulder that would come to her in a dream, tipping her off to the fact that there was someone important she knew before her accident but couldn’t remember. I needed to be able to “see” this dream/memory, so it’s the first thing I wrote. I figure I may as well post it, so here is that memory you’ve seen glimpses of in full.

Scully plunges her hands back under the hot, soapy water and sighs. Her belly is full of good food and good wine, her heart full of hope and the promise of something exciting and new. She runs a scrub brush around the perimeter of a pan and then lifts it out to rinse it with fresh water before setting it on the drying rack beside the sink.

She smiles to herself at the adolescent buzz in her bones, the expectant tightening in her stomach. She’d forgotten how it feels in the beginning: sickly sweet and terrifying, the best kind of fear. From that first tentative kiss it’s only gotten better with each passing day, and she’s found herself almost embarrassed by the way her belly tumbles when he catches her eye across his desk and holds it for just a beat longer than necessary.

Even the invitation for this evening, dinner at his apartment, felt loaded and thrilling. They’ve kissed dozens of times, made out until her chin burned from his stubble, and, most recently, his hand found its way under her shirt. Not since she was sixteen and still a virgin has a boy feeling her up over her bra been so incredibly arousing that she touched herself later just thinking about it. But it’s not a boy, it’s a man. Mulder. Her Mulder. Her partner, now something more.

He’s in the living room fighting with the CD player. The selection of decidedly romantic albums he’d pre-loaded into the eight-disc changer had been abruptly interrupted by the Beastie Boys during their meal, making him blush and her laugh, and he is now presumably ensuring that they don’t suffer any such interruption during whatever he has planned for the rest of the evening.

She feels a rush of heat to her pelvis at the thought.

She’s ready. More than ready, beyond ready. She’s wanted him for so long, she can’t quite decide if this feels more like an ending or a beginning. Perhaps that’s not his intention for the night at all—he seems to be set on taking things slow. But seven years is slow enough, in her mind, and if he doesn’t make the move to activities beyond necking like teenagers, she will.

She hears the CD player click and whir, and the slow wail of soul music floats into the kitchen.

Darling you send me. I know you send me. Darling you send me, honest you do.

She sways her hips gently to the music, running her hands over the bottom of the sink to find forks and knives. She doesn’t hear Mulder enter the kitchen, but suddenly he is standing right behind her, his hands resting on her hips. Her heart leaps, and she forces herself to lean into him rather than stiffen and pull away. Seven years of habits die hard. He moves with her, threading his arms around her waist. His body feels warm and firm against her back, solid as a rock. He is her rock, her safe place, her one reliable thing in a world that’s always changing before her very eyes.

Mulder removes his arms from her waist and wraps his hands around her forearms, sliding them down and under the water until his fingers are interlaced with hers. She lets go of the butter knife she’d been scrubbing and he lifts their joined hands out of the water, crossing both their arms around the front of her body as he walks them two steps back into the middle of the kitchen. Dishwater runs down her elbows, but it somehow feels romantic rather than obnoxious.

Letting go of one of her hands, he twirls her around to face him, then pulls her body flush to his. His free hand finds her waist, and hers his shoulder, and they begin a slow dance. She glances up at him, feeling both charmed and foolish, and sees him smiling down at her with that familiar impish one-sided quirk on his mouth. Her heart swells and she looks away, resting her cheek on his chest. She closes her eyes and breathes him in: the orange-vanilla musk of his deodorant, the warmth of his skin through his T-shirt. His heart pounds urgently against her ear and she smiles, relieved to know that he is also at least a little bit nervous.

He presses his lips to the crown of her head and then holds them there, singing along to the music as his voice vibrates in his chest and his breath tickles her scalp.

At first I thought it was infatuation, but ooooo it’s lasted so long. Now I find myself wanting to marry you and take you home.

A flash flood of every emotion shocks through her veins, heightening her senses. Fear, excitement, arousal, love. Of course she loves him, and she hopes he knows even though she’s never been brave enough to tell him. She hopes he can feel it, as intuitive as he is.

He drops her hand, touching her chin with his still-damp index finger until she looks up at him. His pupils are bottomless pits, his mouth slightly parted. This way he’s been looking at her, not bothering to hide his wanting, is as potent as a drug. She rises up, using posture and tiptoes to bring her mouth close enough to kiss. And he does, again and again. Sucking at her lower lip, cupping her bottom eagerly in his palms, arching his pelvis into her so she can feel him stiffening.

They walk clumsily to his bedroom, kissing all the way. She tugs at the hem of his shirt until he removes it, then touches the button on his jeans. He hums, deep and throaty, and she suddenly becomes aware of how wet she is. She can’t wait for him to discover her, to see just how much she wants this. She pulls off her own shirt, unclasps her bra, and his mouth is wrapped around her nipple by the time her bare back hits his bedsheets.

He takes off her pants, looking up at her as he tugs them off her hips, and she can feel her own heartbeat between her legs. His thorough inspection of her panties with his eyes, and then his hands, and then his lips, is agonizing and perfect. He’s so deliberate, so thorough, as he is with all things. She can’t bring herself to rush him, as much as she wants to, but when he drags her panties down her legs, bunching up the damp fabric in his hand and licking his lips as his eyes rake over her vulva, she sits up and reaches for him.

“I want you,” she confesses shyly, feeling his abdominal muscles twitch against her fingers as she pops the button on his jeans.

There is a flash of regret on his face, but it’s short lived—there will be time for that later. She pushes her hand under his boxers and squeezes him firmly, enamored with the way his entire body slackens in response.

He stands at the foot of the bed, she sitting on the edge with her open legs bracketing his, and pushes his jeans and boxers down to his knees. She leers at him, openly gawks as she runs her comparatively tiny hand over the thick length of him, and then looks up with a coy smile. He laughs nervously, running his fingers through her hair and cradling the base of her skull in his palm.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says reverently, and now it is she who laughs.

“Right this second?” she asks, flashing her eyes to his stiff cock hovering inches below her chin.

“Always,” he says with a sigh. “Though I will admit that I’m partial to this view, yes.”

She blinks languidly, considering taking him in her mouth, but that wouldn’t be entirely fair.

“Lie down,” she directs him instead, and he does.

She drapes her body over his, their bare skin hot and electric as she wriggles up until his shaft is nestled in the valley of her thighs. She rocks her hips gently forward and back as he cranes his neck up to kiss her, humming and sighing. She’s so wet, and they’re so ready, he finds his way inside her without the use of their hands. She pauses to acclimate to the sweet, stinging stretch of him, taking minutes to kiss between each added inch until she sits fully impaled in his lap.

Mulder sits up, cradling her face in his hands and kissing her firmly, urgently, as her hips begin to flex.

“Fuck, Scully. I love you,” he groans, and she feels herself rise up to meet him.

“Mulder,” she whimpers against his mouth, a plea and a proclamation and a confession all at once.

She kisses him back, just as urgently, just as firmly. Her lips feel swollen and bruised, and her fingers dig into his neck as her hips snap, grinding her clit against him on each thrust. It’s frenzied, but still somehow feels so romantic she could cry. Because he loves her, and she wants this so, so much, and she never thought it was possible for them.

“I’m gonna come,” she whispers, and he places one of his hands on the bed for stability as she unravels around him, their open mouths held against one another.

He gasps and arches up into her, and she can feel him, hot and forceful. They continue to rock against one another until the height of intensity has passed, and then Mulder slowly reclines back onto the bed, taking her with him.

She rests her cheek on his sweat damp chest, her heart rate slowing steadily. She notices the music again, the same song that must be playing on repeat.

You thrill me. I know you, you, you thrill me. You thrill me, honest you do. At first I thought it was infatuation, but oooo it’s lasted so long. Now I find myself wanting to marry you and take you home.

She lifts her head, propping her chin on his sternum, and finds him looking at her. He smiles at her and she smiles back, then crawls up his body until he slips out of her. She kisses him once, twice, three times, then tucks her face into the crook of his neck.

“I love you too,” she says softly, her heart hammering again.

She feels his smile widen by the way his cheek presses into her nose. His hands rub wide circles on her back, and a wash of contentment overcomes her.

You send me. I know you send me. You send me, honest you do.

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #x files fanfic #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #xf fanfic #x files #the x-files #xfiles #thexfiles

[scullyswifey]

Example of Mulder's self-deprication in Small Potatoes

Everyone knows and remembers the infamous almost kiss between fake!Mulder and Scully in Small Potatoes, just another bane of every MSR fan's existence. What's even more intriguing to me is the scene on which the episode ends. That short conversation while walking down the prison corridor in which Mulder in seemingly petty jealousy tells Scully that he is no Eddie van Blundht either when she tells him he isn’t a loser. On first thought it does seem like a simple joke, something superificial. But it actually tells us a lot about Mulder himself and how his reaction rather stems from self-hatred than anything else. Which makes it just another perfect example of his fucked up perception of his own character.

While the almost kiss, which most likely had turned into an actual one if Mulder hadn't barged in, counts as irrefutable proof that if he ever were to pursue Scully she would reciprocate, he doesn't see it as such. Though the scene and it's conclusion seemed clear to us, his view on it is warped through the lense of his perceived worthlessness, which leads him to believe it couldn't possibly become true. He blames it on her dying, leaving her vulnerable and more likely to give in to the advances of fake!Mulder. Though Mulder wasn't present for any part of the conversation and therefore will never actually know what took place (let's be real, Scully would never talk about this ever again), he likely seems to believe that she was seduced by fake!Mulder's sweet-talking. As Scully mentions both have never talked much outside of work and through previous episodes we know that they are notoriously bad at talking things out, if at all. So even if he were to pursue her, he thinks he would never find the right words to even begin to explain what she means to him. Ultimately he would fail since he is himself, which is not enough in his eyes.

Another example of this form of cognitive distortion: Others have been reacting and complementing positively on Mulder’s appearance mutliple times in the past (i.e. in Humbug he is made out to be conventionally attractive and now being called good-looking more than once by Eddie himself), yet he is the one beginning to be insecure about his nose in Sanguinarium. Showcasing that no matter the amount of compliments or person to deliver them, he will deflect it. The focus on appearance is superficial here, but we have a lot of direct examples of it in the show and it will no doubt extend to compliments regarding his personality as well.

We find many details of Mulder's self-deprication through the episode, but this one peaked my interest. Not only because it is the first time that it is directly linked to a situation that leaves no ambiguity about it's romantic intent (which is very rare as MSR fans know), but also because I nearly dismissed it as something completely different. It probably is intended to sound casual, making it easier for Scully to brush it off as a joke. But it actually reveals so much about the hurt that Mulder carries and tries to hide. The biggest one being that he thinks he will never be good enough for his Scully.

#fox mulder #msr #meta-ish i guess #excuse me if i interpreted smth wrong i didn't finish the series yet #also do i have a lot of feelings about this episode? YOU TELL ME #txf

[aloysiavirgata]

Dancing that ISNT the PMP scene. Fucking love you gorgeous. ❤️❤️❤️

3 AM finds him waking up stiff and disoriented in the vinyl chair of her hospital room, his feet propped on an upside-down plastic wastebasket. His tie is hanging from the IV pole.

Mulder tests his joints, grimaces at the left shoulder. He’d overstretched it at the pool, shredding 2000 meters in under 30 minutes. He’s been lifting more, been running until he vomits. He doesn’t know if he’s punishing his body for being fit or trying to radiate so much health she’ll absorb it.

Perhaps if it’s the second he’ll need to feed it something other than coffee, Diet Coke, and sunflower seeds. Must be the first.

He examines her narrow form in the bruised light. Scully’s breath snuffles a bit at the cannula and he scans for blood at it but sees none. Her cheekbones curve resolutely past her patrician nose, down to her full, dry lips. There is a small tin of Smith’s Rosebud Salve on the fake wood nightstand. He resists the urge to rub a layer over them. He resists the urge to kiss her beautiful, cracked mouth.

Mulder sighs a bit, runs a finger around the back of his collar. She looks warm to him, looks safe and cared for and utterly beyond his ability to be of use. But he stays anyway, like one of those dogs that sleeps at the grave of its master.

He roams past the nurse’s station, where Jane and Esther give him sympathetic looks. They aren’t supposed to let him sleep in Scully’s room, but Esther is from Yorkshire and calls him lamb and duck and love, and he’s pretty sure he could get the lithe Jane in bed if he wanted to.

He’s drowned his sorrows in lanky brunettes before though, and it never quite took. Turns out he’s a man for dainty gingers.

The radio at the nurse’s station plays “Carolina In My Mind” and he hums along softly, making a styrofoam cup of tea. His father was happy in Raleigh. He was too, as much as he was happy anywhere. He thinks he might move down when Scully goes into the ground, a truth he can only admit at 3 AM. At all other times he will save her.

“Nah then, duck,” Esther says. “Tea from the machine, yer daft ‘apeth, when I’ve a proper kettle ‘ere? ‘Ow’s thy lass?”

He shrugs, smiles vaguely. Jane smiles back. Vaguely.

Mulder presses his head to the faded green wall as his tea steeps. It’ll be terrible, but strong. That’s good enough for him.

He hears a soft shuffling and looks up.

Scully in her spotless white robe and soft slippers, Scully like a Willow Ptarmigan approaching winter. The skin around her eyes is the delicate color of sublimated iodine.

“Scully,” he says, at a loss. She is beautiful in the way of alabaster vases, of all things that can shatter.

She yawns, lips shiny with the salve. Her hands are very thin when she covers her mouth. “Wonderful Tonight” begins on the radio now.

Esther smiles, looks away. Jane checks her watch and walks down the opposite corridor.

“Tea?” Scully says. “That’s more my brand. Why are you still here?”

He gulps the bitter brew. Winces. “I fell asleep,” he says, which is an answer but no answer at all.

“Mmm,” Scully says. She prepares herself some tea as well. Her white hands on the cup, her lower lip snagged between her teeth.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Mulder says.

“You didn’t. I just woke up. I do that a lot. My circadian rhythm…”

They don’t talk about her suprachiasmatic nucleus of the hypothalamus deep within her brain. Of what it might mean if it’s off kilter.

“I was noisy,” Mulder lies, looking at her nose again. He moves like a cat in her room. Like a thief in the night. “Banged into the bed.”

Scully smiles serenely. “It’s all right.”

Jane stalking the perimeter, Jane frowning at her clipboard.

The moon out the window like a scythe in the dark.

He loves her, does she know? Does he know what he would do to save her and how he’d do it and that he’d swim through blood and blood and blood for her, 2000 meters and back again in a heartbeat?

Scully puts her tea down, Scully looks at him with her late summer eyes in this month of her birth. Scully is dying.

On the radio, The Beatles begin “Let It Be,” and what the fuck, he draws her in, her tousled hair and fluffy robe and her rattan ribs.

“Mulder,” she says, peering up. She clutches his left hand with the pale garden spider of her right.

He twirls her beneath the fluorescent lights. He kisses her her forehead because if he kisses her mouth like he wants to she will die.

Jane does another lap and Esther pretends to read a chart and Scully murmurs along with Paul McCartney.

Mulder watches the flat light bounce off her hair, watches her sway, watches her smile for a moment. She tucks her head against his chest as the song ends, doesn’t withdraw.

“Angel Is A Centerfold” begins, which is hardly the mood he wanted, but they both laugh and the scythe of a moon fades away as they sing Na-na, na-na-na-na, Na-na-na, na-na-na-na in something like harmony.

He doesn’t know what song is next, but he holds her through it and the next one and a few more and Esther and Jane are replaced and the sun begins to burn the blackness away and Scully is warm and awake and alive in his arms for at least another day.

#xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #my fic #msr #prompt #cancer arc #memento mori

[slippinmickeys]

Thank you for the Proof of Life prompt this morning! You've mentioned a wedding band and a wedding (I think??) in one of today's prompts. Um...Could you maybe write the wedding? Please?? I get if its too fluffy an ask, but I'm on my kneeeees I love this universe so much I want to live in it

1. She sits against the pillows of the bed, lounging like a limp doll, totally sapped of strength.

“How come all our assignments are to places that are hot?” she asks.

Mulder, at the end of the bed, his lap half covered in only a sheet, has his hands around her foot, which he raises to his face. He gives her toes a sniff and then presses them to his lips. “Are you lodging a complaint?” he mumbles through them.

There’s a sheen of sweat across her brow and tiny beads along the bridge of her nose.

“Perhaps” she says. “I’m experiencing a fair amount of thermal fatigue.”

Mulder looks out the window of the small bungalow and into the green beyond it. He has been in India for four months. Scully has been here for one.

“Maybe we should go somewhere colder,” he says.

2. He has been working with a journalist for the Washington Post on a story about an elephant sanctuary on the fringe of the remote Manas National Park. He has been staying on property for the last week and Scully arrived that morning to finally join him. Matthas, the journalist writing the piece, left the night before, and Mulder’s work for the article is done, though Scully doesn’t know this. He has arranged a rare day off for her, and the mahouts who live at the sanctuary are eager to show her a good time.

She has taken to dressing in brighter colors since her arrival here, and today wears a gauzy pink blouse over a bright green sarong, her hair a frizzy muzz on the top of her head. It is hard to look away from her.

Mulder, his camera in its ubiquitous place around his neck, is talking to Anand, one of the mahouts.

“Scully,” he calls out.

She is standing atop grass of virulent green reading one of the signs they have up for visitors, explaining the need for the camp in Assam.

She waves and he gives her a “come here,” gesture. She moves toward him.

“I don’t want to get in the way,” she says demurely, hanging back a bit.

“It’s fine,” he smiles at her. “I have a surprise for you.”

On a nod from Anand, he takes her hand and walks her over to the river, where another mahout, Davanesh, stands next to one of the sanctuary’s stars, Tara, who sways on soft feet, keeping a rhythm known only to her kind.

“Come and meet her,” Mulder says. He had met Tara upon his arrival and knows the beast to be kind-hearted and affectionate. He picked her specifically for this.

The river next to them is a purling brown, with the grass-cutter area beyond it. In the woods behind the river, one of the sanctuary elephants calls out and Tara answers with a short, happy trumpet.

Scully smiles at him nervously. “Is it safe?”

He shrugs and grins back. “Safe enough.”

The elephant turns her attention to the newcomer and lifts her trunk when Scully approaches, reaching out to touch her lightly on the shoulder, on her ponytail. Scully is delighted by the attention, if a little timid. Tara begins gently nosing Scully’s face. The elephant’s trunk is gray on top, the bottom the same delicate pink as Scully’s shirt. Her long eyelashes are soft and feather-like, gentle fans around intelligent eyes.

The mahout says something and Mulder interprets.

“You breathe into their trunk so they can get to know your scent,” he explains.

Scully, still a little skittish, does as prompted and then Tara takes a step back, swinging her trunk back and forth a few times before swinging it over to Davanesh, who smiles at Mulder and nods.

“Now hold out your hand,” Mulder says, butterflies set to wing in his stomach.

Tara takes a step forward and swings her trunk back at Scully, dropping something gently in her outstretched hand, her trunk as nimble as human fingers.

“What is…?” Scully says, and looks at her palm. There is a small turquoise satin bag sitting on it.

“Open it,” Mulder says softly, stepping up behind her.

She opens the bag and shakes out a delicate silver ring into her other palm. She gives a small gasp.

Mulder lowers himself to one knee beside her and Davanesh smiles widely, his teeth bright white against his dark skin.

“Mulder, you don’t have to-”

“It feels like the thing to do,” he smiles up at her. “Will you?”

He doesn’t actually say the words, and Scully doesn’t actually say yes, but she nods happily, a look crossing her face that Mulder interprets as the urge to laugh and cry at the same time. Before he can reach up to put the ring on her finger, Tara starts bumping him in the head with her trunk, unused to not being the center of attention. Scully lets out a sharp peel of laughter and Mulder finally stands, a thought occurring to him.

“Shit!” he says, someone indecorously. “I forgot to take a picture!”

3. “I’ll give you this,” Scully says as they walk past the building of the Consulate General, a ritual they do on their first day in any foreign country. “It’s certainly not too hot here.”

They are just down from the Royal Mile in Edinburgh, still on Princes Street. It’s early April in Scotland, and, Mulder has to admit, butt-fucking cold.

The American flag snaps and flaps in the cold breeze at the top of the building they stand in front of, and they nod at the Marine behind the gate before turning on their heel and heading back toward the castle. They are unlikely to need the services of the Consulate here, but have had the occasion, on no less than three separate instances, to yell “I’m an American!” while running full bore at embassy and consulate gates in other parts of the world, and every time, the young Marine (it’s always a young Marine) stationed there has snapped to attention and saved their hides.

Here, they’re more in danger of tripping over a cobblestone while walking to the closest coffee shop, but Scully said she was sick of the heat, and Mulder has an idea.

It started with listless boredom, as these things tend to, laid out in a tent near the equator, reading whatever English-language book that happened to be left behind by a colleague or visitor. In this case it was a Regency romance novel that Scully had burned through the weekend before and Mulder picked up on the working theory that you could actually die of boredom. At the time, all he thought was: needs must.

In the story, a young daughter of a marquess – madly in love with the blacksmith who’d heroically fixed the axle on her wayward carriage, eloped with her muscle-bound beau to Gretna Green and married only minutes before her viscous older brother arrived on scene with the cavalry of the ton at his back. The young couple slipped away and consummated the marriage (with many a heaving bosom) beneath a willow in the village square and what’s done was done and they lived happily ever after.

Mulder prefers the bed in their rented flat to the wet sod of a village green and they had consummated their relationship hundreds of times over at this point, but Gretna Green: now there was an idea.

He grabs her mittened hand, the ring around her finger a hard nub under his hand, and feels a swell of something like pride. That this incredible woman would choose him.

As they begin the walk up the Royal Mile, they pass coffee shops, gelato shops, store fronts hocking kitschy souvenirs. Mulder pulls up in front of one of probably twenty with a mannequin in the window wearing a kilt. It’s fitted out in the whole nine yards (literally—where the saying came from) of formal wear; hose with flashes, a sporran, Prince Charlie jacket. There’s even a sheathed dirk tucked into the waistband.

“So, I had a thought,” he says.

Scully turns her attention from the window to him.

“I was thinking we could elope.” She raises her eyebrows at this. “Here,” he goes on to explain.

A small smile creeps up her cheek.

“Do you remember that novel in Laos, the one that made the rounds through camp? The blacksmith and the wanton wallflower, something…” he trails off.

“I remember an outbreak of the clap not long after…”

Mulder stifles the urge to laugh.

“That’s the one.”

It takes Scully a moment to catch up. “You want to elope to Gretna Green?” Her eyebrows are sky high.

“Bad idea?” he says a little self-consciously.

“No, I-“ she turns back to the store window. “I kind of love it, actually.”

“We ran off to Gretna Green would make a great story,” he says.

She squeezes his hand. “I don’t think anything could top our meet-cute.”

He smiles at her, looks to the window himself.

“Would you wear a kilt?” she asks.

“Would you want me to?”

She half-turns her head to him, a sly little smile on her face.

4. Click.

He takes one picture before handing his camera over to the volunteer witness, who immediately turns the lens back on Mulder, an odd, curious feeling.

One he forgets the instant he turns to Scully.

She is in a simple white dress, her long hair brushed to a high shine and curled over one shoulder. She carries no flowers and is wearing only simple silver jewelry, and her hands are warm and dry and fit just right into his. She never once looks away.

They opted for a ceremony in the original marriage room of the old smithy, partly for the kitsch of it and partly as an inside joke, but Mulder doesn’t feel like laughing as they stand over the old anvil. There is an ethereal earthiness to the room, with its whitewashed stone walls and rough hewn low ceiling battened with old horseshoes.

As the officiant speaks of love being forged in an unbreakable bond, Mulder thinks of 1055, of their stringy hair and unwashed bodies, of the boot-steps of the men always lurking outside their door.

Love isn’t just forged in peace and bliss, he thinks, but in trial and turmoil too.

They hold hands and exchange rings and when the officiant pronounces them wed, he leans in to press his lips to hers and it’s all sun-dried linen and eucalyptus and that room on the 10th floor. Flowers come from dirt. Good things can come from bad. Love can come from anywhere if only you have the courage to hang onto it.

Click.

#the x-files #fanfic #my fic #msr #au #prompt #proof of life universe

[atths--twice]

A few months ago I was asked to write a little story for the program schedule that everyone would get at PhileFest. I was delighted to be asked and so I sent off three possibilities and the last one was chosen. Now that the weekend is over, (sadly, as it was amazing) I can share all the ones I wrote.

I hope you enjoy them. ❤️

In Another Life

Little glimpses into how life could have gone…

Chapter One

November 2001

William giggled as Mulder pushed him in the baby swing at the park. He was bundled against the chilly day, in a dark blue full bodysuit and a blue beanie with yellow stars on it.

They had been to the park a few times, but oddly enough William had not enjoyed the swings until recently, crying every time they had placed him in it. Now though, he laughed when he was being gently pushed.

“I’m glad he likes it now,” Mulder said, giving him another small push. “Not much else he can really do here just yet.”

“True. Though he did like the slide with you last time,” Scully said, taking pictures of William as he laughed.

“You mean when I hit my knee and limped home?”

“Well... I didn’t say you liked it,” she teased and he chuckled with a nod.

“Do you think the ducks will still be at the little pond? He liked them too.”

“We can look and see,” Scully said with a shrug, slowing the swing and kissing William’s flushed cheeks. “You want to see the ducks, sweetheart? Yeah, let’s see if we can find them.”

She took him from the swing and he protested for a second before he was turned around and allowed to see the park as they walked toward the pond. Mulder put his arm around Scully’s shoulders and kissed first William’s head and then hers.

“Have I mentioned today that I love you?” he asked and she smiled.

“You have. But not for a couple of hours.”

“Well, that’s unacceptable,” he said, shaking his head.

“I mean, I have been wondering,” she teased him, bumping him with her arm as William blew loud raspberries.

“Hmm…” he hummed, pulling her closer and pressing his nose to her head and then kissing her again. “It’s never good if you’re left wondering.”

“Mulder,” she said, shaking her head. “Oh look, the ducks are still here. Look, William. See the ducks? Wow, there’s quite a few. And we don’t have anything to feed them. They won’t like that, I don’t think.”

“Eh, it’ll be okay,” Mulder said, moving his arm from her shoulders and putting his hands in his pockets.

Scully sat down with William in her lap when they reached the small pond. The ducks quacked softly as they swam closer, but still kept their distance, watching them curiously.

“Yeah, I don’t think they’ll get much closer. But look, William. Look at the ducks. Hear them quacking? They’re saying hello to you. Say hi, ducks.” She waved his little pudgy hand at the ducks and William squealed happily.

Mulder knelt down beside them, his heart racing as he took the small jewelry box from his pocket and opened it. He watched her watching the ducks, laughing as she held William’s hand, and he loved her even more.

“Next time we’ll need to bring some bread or something,” she said, turning to glance at him then looking back at the ducks.

A few seconds passed and she looked back at him, her eyes wide.

“Mulder,” she whispered, looking down at the golden ring in the black box. “What are you doing?”

“Working up the nerve to ask you to marry me,” he whispered back, the ducks quacking louder as William squealed again.

“You…”

“Will you marry me, Scully?” he asked, swallowing hard as he waited for her answer.

“Mulder… I never thought…” She stared at him and he smiled, knowing it was not something they had really discussed. “Yes. Yes, I will.”

“You will?” he asked, somewhat surprised.

“Did you want me to say no?” she asked, laughing softly.

“No,” he said quickly. “No, I didn’t.”

“Would you like me to say I need some time to think about it?” she asked, smiling happily.

“No,” he said, shaking his head and moving closer to her. “No, I don’t.”

“Then yes, Mulder. Yes, I will marry you.”

“Good.”

He slipped the ring on her finger, his hands shaking slightly. She looked at the ring and then him, her eyes shining as she smiled.

A loud quack from the ducks pulled their attention, both of them laughing as they turned to look at them. William laughed and bounced excitedly on Scully’s lap as Mulder sat beside Scully, his arm going around her shoulders.

“I love you,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder.

“I love you too,” he said, his head resting on hers as he closed his eyes and smiled.

#the x files #xf fanfic #msr #love #happy #alternate universe #canon divergence #season 8 #family #fluff and happiness #family fluff #domestic fluff #domestic life

[cecilysass]

Shine On (9/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic | Some slightly M content in this chapter

Chapter 9: The Cake

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 22, 2015 7:00 pm

Given the circumstances, she’s very calm. There are many reasons not to be calm right now. So many she couldn’t possibly begin to catalog them all. But when she and Mulder finish talking to Skinner—planning for an abrupt career decision she couldn’t have seen coming this morning—Scully feels strangely at peace. She simply asks to use the bathroom and walks upstairs to take a shower.

In Mulder’s bathroom—her old bathroom—she pauses when she catches a glimpse of her face in the mirror.

She looks a little tired, but her expression is serene. Her eyes are clear.

The decision to rejoin the F.B.I. felt simple. When Skinner asked her how sure she was, she told him she felt no doubt at all. Which is remarkable, given the years she’s invested at the hospital, and given the way her stint at the Bureau ended. But when she thinks about Jackson—about what needs to be done to protect him—it’s like the path ahead of her lights up.

She searches around for a towel. Mulder’s bathroom is decidedly less tidy than when she lived here. His electric razor and shaving cream are scattered haphazardly all over the counter rather than put up in the drawer. There is a box that once contained toothpaste that he inexplicably hasn’t bothered to throw out. What could be so hard about throwing it in the trash? Doesn’t it bother him?

Of course, it’s his choice. He can keep his bathroom as messy as he likes. It’s only him here.

She undresses and steps into the shower. It’s wide, with plenty of room, and a tiled ledge almost big enough to be a seat.

They were especially fond of this shower when they first moved to the house. That first sweltering summer here, when Mulder was spending hours installing the front gate, he would come in flushed and sticky. She would step into the shower with him, and he would hum his appreciation and run his hands up and down her soap-slick body.

He could manage to sit on the ledge in the corner and brace his hands precariously against the slippery walls, and she would perch astride his lap, her small body raising and lowering over his. The water streamed over her back, down the tips of her hair on to his chest, and his groans echoed off the tile. She would remark afterwards that one of them could easily slip and end up in the ER with an embarrassing concussion, but they never did.

At the time she moved out, they hadn’t shared the shower for a long time. She reaches out to touch the tile right behind the ledge, remembering.

What are you thinking? Her hand snaps back suddenly. Who knows what Jackson can see in her mind, even from another room? She shakes her head in horrified embarrassment. Jesus. She really needs to remember that possibility, to have more self discipline.

She isn’t used to having to police her thoughts and feelings. Her mind has been the one place she has never had to hold back.

As she hurriedly helps herself to some of his shampoo, she allows her thoughts to go to Mulder again, but this time they’re PG rated. He seems so different now than he did when she left the house for good. Truthfully, he seems like a different person than the Mulder she met here a few days ago, too.

It’s strange, she thinks, as she massages the shampoo through her hair, but today he doesn’t even remind her of the man who moved into this house with her, the Mulder of ten years ago.

He reminds her more of the Mulder of the old days. Restless, quick-witted, eager. Joking with Skinner. Obviously percolating a theory. More like the Mulder of fifteen, twenty years ago.

In other words, Agent Mulder. Her partner.

She knows, deep down, that the way he’s acting helped make her decision easier, too. Because even when their personal relationship suffered, there was nothing they couldn’t do as partners.

Even the very idea of having her partner back—even just contemplating the word partner—-makes something inside of her feel warm. A feeling that is definitely more than just calm.

She raises her face towards the shower head and lets the hot water pour down over her skin. Keep control of your thoughts, she reminds herself. The shampoo smells like Mulder. She inhales the steamy air and empties her mind.

*** She comes downstairs after her shower wearing Mulder’s clothes with her hair wrapped up in a towel, and she is surprised to see Jackson draining spaghetti in the sink and Mulder stirring something in a pot with a wooden spoon.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Mulder says, looking up at her. “It’s not going to be fancy.”

“I’m hungry,” Scully says, realizing suddenly as she catches a whiff of garlic.

“Me, too,” Jackson says, his tone a little mournful. Scully looks from him to the clock on Mulder’s kitchen wall; it says 8:30. They probably should have started making dinner plans sooner, what with a child in the house.

Once, she remembers, it was her job to make sure William ate on time, every three hours. With a soundless sigh, she acknowledges that she probably wouldn’t have gone on to be the kind of parent who made sure meals happened on a schedule. She’s definitely not very good about remembering to feed herself now.

Jackson abruptly pushes an empty bowl into her hands, gesturing to the drained pasta wordlessly. She doesn’t have to read minds to get his obvious message: Stop thinking and eat.

“I’ll clear the table,” Mulder says, placing his hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “Then we’ll sit and do this right.”

***

“Favorite color?” Mulder leans back in one of the dining room chairs, his fingers interlaced behind his head and his eyes on Jackson across the table.

Jackson is still eating—thirds by now—but politely tolerates the neverending series of questions.

“Blue.” Another big bite of spaghetti. Some of the jarred sauce from Trader Joe’s is on his chin. Scully slides a paper napkin across the table, but he doesn’t pick it up.

“Favorite holiday?”

Jackson considers this one, tilting his head, chewing. “Halloween?”

“Ahh,” Mulder smiles, pleased. “Good answer. Favorite movie?”

“Nobody has just one favorite movie. That’s too hard.”

“I do,” Mulder insists. “Plan 9 from Outer Space.”

“Never heard of it,” Jackson says with a shrug. “I guess if I had to choose … maybe The Avengers. Or The Incredibles or Finding Nemo.”

“Favorite game?” Mulder asks.

“Call of Duty, GTA,” recites Jackson easily. Off Mulder’s scowl, he adds quickly, “Yeah, yeah, I know. Violent and inappropriate.”

“See, you didn’t know what I was thinking that time,” Mulder says, smiling and pointing a gotcha finger. “I was thinking I meant ‘games’ like sports, I guess. Those are video games, right? What’s violent and inappropriate about them?”

“Nothing,” Jackson says quickly with a sly little smile. “If you’ve never heard anything about them, they’re absolutely fine.”

“Favorite class in school?” Scully interjects, leaning forward on the table.

Jackson turns to take her in. She’s sitting at the end of the table with her bowl pushed aside, her hands folded in front of her. He bites his lip in thought. “Math. But I also like P.E. and music.”

“Jackson’s a musician,” Mulder says, his eyes bright. It’s almost painful how proud he looks.

“That’s amazing, Jackson,” she says softly. “What do you play?”

“Guitar, but I’m not that good,” Jackson says sheepishly. “I’m still learning.”

She nods brusquely, pressing her lips together. “Favorite food?”

“Uhhh. I like tacos,” Jackson says, picking up his fork to scrape the remains of sauce off the bottom of his bowl. “And sour candy, like Sour Patch Kids? Plus sunflower seeds. My mom gets frustrated because those get everywhere, in the couch cushions and everything. I like the ranch-flavored kind.”

Scully’s eyes hold Mulder’s for only a half second, but she knows Jackson needs much less time than that to know their feelings. She feels a thrum of panic, and Jackson looks up at her on alert.

“The ranch flavored ones are disgusting,” Mulder says dismissively, after a beat. He pulls a face, and she’s amazed at his ability to keep things afloat, keep conversation flowing normally. “The only kind worth eating is the original flavor, Jackson.”

“Just plain?” Jackson says in disbelief.

“Some things are classics.”

“Get with the times, Mulder,” Jackson says, flashing him a little smile.

***

After dinner, Mulder improbably produces a birthday cake sitting atop a too-small plate, which he carries gingerly to the table.

He has dimmed the lights, even though the cake has no candles. It has an abundance of pink icing roses and is inscribed with her name: Happy Birthday, Scully.

“Oh Mulder,” she says, biting her lip with pleasure. “What is this?”

“Better help me sing, Jackson,” he says as he sets it down in front of Scully. “I’m not the one with a band.”

And so on the eve of her 51st birthday, she hears William sing her happy birthday for the first time. His early adolescent voice and Mulder’s baritone blend perfectly. She can think of nothing more beautiful.

“How did you manage this?” she says to Mulder, the words an effort. She’s trying not to let on exactly how moved she is. For Jackson’s sake, it seems better to keep all her emotions as small as possible.

“I bought it at the bakery and carried it to the car when you were in the bathroom,” Mulder says triumphantly. “It was Jackson’s idea, actually.”

Her head swivels to look at Jackson in astonishment, but he stares down at the pink icing roses, embarrassed. She can’t think of how he would even know it was her birthday. Had Mulder thought about it? Discussed it? That seems highly unlikely, given everything else going on and Mulder’s general forgetfulness on this topic.

Maybe Jackson heard her childishly fantasizing about Mulder surprising her today, way back before she even got in the car. That idea makes her feel ashamed. It must make her seem so petty and small.

“What size piece do you want, Birthday Girl?” Mulder asks, going to retrieve a knife and plates. “Big or giant?”

“Not too big,” protests Scully. “I’m full.”

“But it’s your birthday cake,” Mulder says. “And I was told it’s really good cake.”

“I’ll take a giant piece,” Jackson offers. “If you’re asking.”

Mulder cuts three generous pieces, despite Scully’s protests, and there is a moment of silence as they all three lift their forks to taste it.

“Hmmmm,” Mulder says. “I think that’s caramel filling. Good, right?”

“Mmmmm,” Jackson agrees, his mouth full.

Scully nods her agreement, too, and for a little while, they eat, and she enjoys this birthday cake with two people she’d long given up on having birthday cake with. Is this possible, she wonders? Could this become normal, after all this time?

She doesn’t remember how to have hope about having this any more. It isn’t possible. Not for her. Not for them.

Her eyes fall on Jackson again, and she’s reminded uneasily of the conversation with Mulder at the bakery.

Someone took him from Wyoming. From his actual parents, his life, his home. Someone delivered him here. Someone purposely inserted him back in their lives, artificially making this dream come true.

There’s a catch. There’s always a catch, and while Jackson doesn’t understand the full picture, they understand more, and they have to protect him.

She takes a breath, trying to think of the best approach.

“Jackson,” Scully says casually, setting her fork down. “Mulder tells me that someone brought you here. To Virginia, all the way from Wyoming.”

“Yeah,” Jackson says, lifting another forkful of cake to his mouth. His eyes flash up towards hers guardedly, and the expression reminds her of Mulder, especially Mulder when she first knew him.

“And that you don’t want to tell us who that was.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that I can’t,” Jackson says. He’s stopped eating now, and is looking down at his plate.

“All right,” Scully says. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just… we’re worried about that. I can’t think of good reasons why that would need to be kept a secret. We’re worried that the people who brought you here…”

“Are the same people who killed my parents,” finishes Jackson dully. “And the same people coming after us now.”

“Yes,” Scully says as gently as she can. “That’s right.”

“I know you’re worried about that.” Jackson sets his fork down, too. His gaze turns from her to Mulder. “I know you both are, I can feel it.” His hand curls into a tight fist on top of the table. “But you have to trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

“It’s not that we don’t trust you—”

“I mean, it is,” he interrupts. “It’s exactly that you don’t trust me. It’s that you don’t trust me to know who I can depend on and who I can’t. Which is kind of ironic considering I’m the one who reads minds.”

“If there are people who know where you are,” Scully says, keeping her tone reasonable, “and we don’t even know their identity, who else they might have spoken to… it’s harder for us to protect you.”

Jackson scoots his chair back with a sharp squeak. “Well,” he says, not meeting her eyes, “guess it’s a good thing I do all right protecting myself.”

“Jackson,” Mulder says softly, “we’re just worried.”

“I know,” he says darkly. “I know you’re worried. If there is one thing I know, it’s what you’re feeling. Especially her.” He looks mutinously at Scully.

Scully hunts desperately for her next words, trying to think of what to say, of what can make him understand.

“You know what?” Jackson stands up. “I’m pretty tired. Thank you for the cake. I think I’m going to go upstairs and go to bed.”

Scully feels this sting keenly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Really,” Jackson says. “I just want to go to sleep. Please. That’s all.”

Scully places her palms flat on the table and swallows.

“Okay,” she says hollowly. “I’m sure you’re tired.”

“Let us know if you need anything,” Mulder adds.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Jackson says in a stilted, formal voice.

He turns and walks upstairs, and Scully rises from her chair, watching his every step.

She wills her tears back furiously, feeling so intensely angry at herself she is practically breathless.

“Scully.” Across the table, Mulder’s face is full of concern. She stares shakily back at him, clinging to the back of her chair.

“I … messed that up,” she says tightly. Some tears slip through. “I’m not as good at this as you.”

“No,” Mulder says gently. “No. You were right to ask him again. It’s important.”

“I just wish I had waited. We were having a nice evening. It was … going better.”

“He’s thirteen. He’s been through a lot.” Mulder stands up, walks around the table to stand next to her. “Scully, sometimes it’s going to go well, and sometimes it’s not.”

He puts his arms around her, and she allows this comfort, pressing her cheek to his chest. He smells so good, like the clean citrus scent of his shampoo, the same scent in her own hair. A little sob escapes her. She hopes Jackson can’t feel the ripple of it upstairs.

“Could you see anything in his mind?” she whispers into Mulder’s chest. “When I asked about how he got here?”

“No,” Mulder admits, speaking low into her ear. “I only see into his mind every once in a while, and it’s stupid and inconsistent.” He laughs in self-deprecation, and the light tickle of his breaths reaches the shell of her ear, sending a ripple of tingles through her. “I could hear him thinking about how hungry he was earlier. That’s why I started dinner.”

Scully hums back her understanding in response, but it’s muffled by his shirt.

“Come on, g-woman. Let’s go sit,” Mulder suggests, pulling back to look at her.

He tugs her over to sit on the couch, and they both sink down on the cushions side by side, their legs stretched out in front of them, their shoulders nearly touching.

“We’re going to be able to do this,” Mulder says. “It’s overwhelming right now, but we’re going to figure it out, Scully.”

His voice is low, gentle and rumbly, and fills her with the overpowering urge to touch him. She nods, cautiously.

“Skinner seemed pretty confident that reopening the X-files could be a go,” Mulder remarks.

“He did,” she agrees.

“That would be something, wouldn’t it?” Mulder’s voice is awed. “After so long.”

“We should be able to look into his parents’ murders unofficially right away,” Scully says, eyeing him sideways. “As soon as we get access to the servers.”

Mulder’s head bobs in a nod. “Yeah.”

“Does it worry you at all, Mulder? Going back to the FBI?”

“Of course not,” he says, rotating his head towards her. “Not with you there.” His eyes are soft and full of wonder. “I’m amazed. At so much of what has happened.”

She considers him, suddenly overcome with temptation. Probably she shouldn’t. But he’s so beautiful, so effortlessly strong and indefatigable right now. Without thinking about it, she reaches out and runs a fingertip along his jawline.

His eyes widen, alert, a furrow in his forehead.

She leans toward him and lightly ghosts her lips against his, once, twice, finally pressing in to gently kiss him. It feels so good, so simple. Like not thinking about anything. Through his body, so close to hers, she can sense his surprise, his tensed muscles. He doesn’t kiss her back right away.

Slowly he relaxes, touches her waist, kisses her tenderly, carefully. Her hands slide down to take hold of the collar of his sweater, fisting handfuls of the fabric tightly.

She lets her lips hover over his a moment. “I’ve missed you, Mulder.” The words are barely breath.

She feels him stiffen again. Very slowly he pulls back, his expression inscrutable.

“What?” she says. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, exactly,” he says, his eyes wet. “This is what I want. What I’ve wanted since the moment you left. It’s just…”

Her fingers trail up and down the back of his neck. “What?”

“Even a few days ago, it sure didn’t seem like what you wanted.” He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Scully, there have been so many changes today.”

“I know,” she says, feeling a flush of frustration. “I thought maybe we could … together …”

He nods slowly, as if this is what he expected, and he starts to scoot away from her on the couch. “I understand,” he says. “But I think we should wait to … start anything like this … right now.”

He doesn’t sound angry. He sounds worried, and she doesn’t understand why. Why isn’t it enough that she says she misses him? Why can’t they take this comfort in how they feel about one another?

“Why? What are you looking for, Mulder?” Her voice sounds awful, some unholy combination of tearful and sarcastic. “You’re looking for some grand resolution? For me to say it was a mistake to split up in the first place? That I was entirely wrong and you were entirely right?”

“No,” he says quietly. “No, of course not.” He runs his hands down the side of his face. “I just want to be sure it’s … not just the rush of finding William again. Of getting the X-files back.”

She feels irrationally mortified, and she sits up straight, her face now flushing hot. “All right,” she says, turning away. “All right.”

“It’s not that—”

“I didn’t think it needed to be so complicated,” she observes sharply.

“Scully,” he says plaintively. “It’s been an intense day for everyone. And…” He looks away. “We have to work together again. No matter what. For his sake. Don’t you see? It can’t be… unclear.”

Scully smooths her hair back, trying to absorb that statement. It is both logical and intensely painful—that he finds it easier to resist, apparently.

“It’s a bad idea with Jackson upstairs anyway,” she comments, lowering her voice. “I don’t know what I was thinking. What if he’s picking up on all of this?”

“Yeah,” admits Mulder.

They sit there in a pause that seems to stretch out forever.

“Scully,” Mulder begins, “please don’t think that I am saying—”

“I understand,” she interrupts. “I get it, Mulder.”

“Do you want to talk? Watch TV?”

“What are our sleeping arrangements tonight?” Her voice is so cold, and she knows it’s not really fair. “He’s sleeping in the guest room.”

Mulder’s eyes examine her. “You can take the bed. I’ll sleep down here.”

“It’s your bed,” she says. “You take it, and I’ll sleep here. This couch is too small for you anyway. Just find me a pillow and some blankets.”

He hesitates, obviously wanting to argue, but seems to take her expression seriously. “Okay,” he says.

When he goes off to look for some bedding, she puts her head in her hands. It’s going to be fine, she tells herself. He’s probably right to slow her down. She’s acting too impulsively.

So much today has been an incredible gift. So much seems like she’s been handed another chance at everything she ever wanted. And yet somehow she feels as alone as she ever has.

***

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #x files #xf fanfic #msr #jackson van de kamp #x files revival

[randomfoggytiger]

X-Files Collector's Edition: Requiem AUs (Poll Results 4th)-- Mulder Didn't Leave

Part 2 of the Requiem AUs (from this poll): Mulder returns in Requiem whether before, during, or after he finds out about his and Scully's miracle.

Loose chronological order below~

Requiem AUs

@mihosayuri/neytirijade’s This was in response to a prompt

""“I, uh… I’m actually here—we’re here—because I’m about two months late, and um… I took two at home pregnancy tests, and I know those things aren’t always 100%–""

Pre-Requiem Mulder and Scully are back in the IVF office, waiting with bated breath to see if they have surprise, miraculous, positive news.

@drbedeliadumaurier/heartsfilthylesson‘s

isolated systems - Chapter 2 (Tumblr)

""In Bellefleur, shock and dread give way to anticipation, to delight almost. She holds Theresa Nemman’s baby and remembers the one growing inside her, wonders.... She needs to tell him.""

Pre-Requiem Scully finds out about her pregnancy before she and Mulder leave for Oregon. She mulls over the news during their investigation; finally tells when they end up back where it all started: his motel room.

@starbuck09256​‘s (Ao3) Back to the Beginning to find the Truth

""Everything in his search had just been leading him back to her. She whimpers in his arms and he feels a sudden gush on his chest[.] [L]ooking down as he gently strokes her bare back he see bright crimson.""

Scully's nose bleeds in Bellefleur; and Mulder zips her to the ER to get a checkup. Both are overjoyed.

@gilliansanderson/spensierata's Strange Trails (Tumblr)

""It was quiet in the car. It was a comfortable quiet. They were comfortable being quiet, it was how they processed the inevitable. The radio crackled and screeched in search of a signal, it reminded Mulder of when they’d lost nine minutes, they’d gotten soaked, he’d marked the ground with an X. We Were Here. He’d screamed it at the sky. Mulder turned it off in frustration so all that was left to fill the silence was the rhythmic pounding of the rain against the roof.... It was nine minutes to the hospital. He reached over to thread his fingers through hers. She only barely squeezed back.""

Mulder and Scully sit in the waiting room in Bellefleur, their absorptive silence morphing into peaceful joy at the good news.

@lokisgame​’s (Ao3) Late

""Mulder,” she whispered..., calling him back from the edge of sleep, “I’m late.” “For what?” He mumbled, half conscious, “we just got back.""

Mulder and Scully return from Oregon, dozing on the couch... until Scully drops the gentle "I'm late" bombshell. (I adore this fic.)

a_steady_wish's Alternative Ending to Requiem - Chapter 1

""It’s only three minutes later but seems like an hour when the lines appear, clear as day, and you exhale loudly. You close your eyes for long moments, open them again: it hasn’t changed. You begin to pad back out to the bed, suddenly think you were mistaken, and go back to the bathroom to check again. You were not mistaken: two pink lines. You check the box a fourth time. Making sure you have read the results properly: You have. You are. You are pregnant.""

Scully takes a pregnancy test after their return from Oregon, unable to sleep with her suspicions. Mulder notices her mood when she comes back, teary and happy. (I adore this fic, too.)  

TheAddict4Dramatics's Untitled Requiem Ficlet

""The banging continued until it was starting to echo inside her skull. She wiped her eyes and checked her face in the mirror before opening the door. Clearly she did not do a good enough cover-up job and he frowned as soon as he saw her.

“What’s the matter?” There was such sincere worry in his face as he stepped into the bathroom and relocked the door behind him.

“I’m…” But the fine died on her lips and to her utter horror she felt her face begin to crumble in on itself.""

Requiem Scully leaves the conference room where Mulder, TLG, Skinner, Krycek, Marita, and Diana all game plan about Oregon. Mulder insists on joining her, reiterating his loyalty; and is there to catch her when she faints.

@frogsmulder​​/Brynstein‘s 1. “I love you, please don’t go.”

""I love you,” she murmurs from a distance. 

He looks up at her with wide, mossy eyes, flecked golden in the orange light of the lamp. In earnest, his innocent gaze captures her heart in a fist of fiery iron, melting her final resolve. “I love you too,” he answers simply, letting the weight of his affection carry his words."" 

 Requiem Mulder only wants Scully; and Scully finally admits to wanting him to stay. both are happy to be together for the news.

@mldrgrl’s (Ao3) 

MSR 38

""Skinner was already on the phone calling for an ambulance.  The gunmen hovered, giving orders to each other to give her air, get her water, find a pillow.  Marita knelt down next to Mulder and put a hand on Scully’s ankle.

“Alex,” she said.  “Find a blanket.""

Requiem Scully passes out at the Bureau; and Mulder, TLG, Skinner, and Marita all jump into action to take care of her until the ambulance arrives. (I adore this fic, too.) Mulder's intent doesn't end there, dropping a bombshell of his own.

Resignation

""He’d never been so glad about trusting his instincts as he was in that moment.""

Requiem Mulder resigns on the plane (to Skinner's own resigned frustration), returning to Scully's side and happily soaking in her announcement.

Not Again: Part 1 - Gone (Tumblr)

"" The Scully imposter cocks her head to the side and then almost with a shrug, turns and steps off the edge of the cliff.

“No!”  Mulder screams, knowing full well it isn’t Scully who’s just fallen, but it looks like her, and he knows it’s an image he’ll never be able to shake.  He stands rooted to his spot while Agent Doggett runs to the drop site and peers over the edge.""

AU-- Requiem Scully is abducted instead of Mulder. He carries on through the events of S8, trying his best to find her and finally accepting the help of Doggett and Reyes as well as Skinner and TLG.

XScribe/Red's (Ao3, Gossamer) The End of Time

""He is silent. The echo of her words dies away into the walls. His eyes open wide and he draws his bottom lip between his teeth, biting on it. He releases her from his grasp to run a hand over his face as he closes his eyes. She waits patiently for him, feeling suddenly very peaceful and calm, all panic draining out of her. She listens to the ticking of his watch in the quiet hallway, second by second dragging past them both.""

Requiem Scully tells Mulder in the FBI hallway. He wants to stay, but she insists he go.

Lapsed_Scholar’s Variations

""Mulder had sounded giddy and distracted over the phone.... This, though, was in an entirely different category. Mulder, of all people, Mulder was having obvious difficulty paying attention to a case full of shady conspiracies, paranormal phenomena, abductions, and UFOs. If Skinner had been forced to classify the look on his face, it would have been lovedrunk.

Scully was better at hiding it, but she was also remarkably non-productive and was prone to gazing off into space...at her partner. She would periodically come back to herself, whereupon she at least had the decency to blush and look back down at the papers before her.""

The best-- the best-- collection of Requiem unfolding in many more satisfying ways. The humor is unparalleled, the characterization exquisite, and the different stories gripping and heartwarming. Perfection. (I adore this, too.)

@allyinthekeyofx’s (Ao3) Finding Miracles

""And as I led her to the bed to properly take a look at her, I had to face the fact that she looked sick.  Not sick like she looks when she has a cold or the flu or a stomach bug.  The way she looked radiated from somewhere deep inside her, reflecting from those limitless blue eyes, the way her expression had faded, chasing away the essence that was Dana Scully as she battled with unfamiliar territory that had laid her emotions bare.  Right there for me to see.

Because this woman, my perfect other and centre of my world was afraid...""

Requiem Mulder is called by Byers in the airport; and Skinner has to steady him as he sways from the potentially bad news.

Forte's (The Basement Office) Half an Hour

""He is breathing heavily himself, probably more from panic than from the four-block run, and slaps his palm against the wall as though that will make the elevator rise faster. He is too manic, even for him, and I remember all the caffeine he's ingested in the last several hours. I wonder if I should take his weapon away from him.""

 Requiem Mulder creates havoc and mayhem after panicking in the airport; and Skinner corrals him (and later TLG) into orderly behavior all the way to the hospital.

@moonprincess92's (Ao3)

Are you up for writing some season 7 fluff?

""He’d agreed to swing by her apartment and collect the things she’d scribbled down for him on a hospital note pad. The only comforting thought he’d had on his drive was that she’d asked him to go ‘home’, rather than to ‘her apartment ’.

At least any news would be broken by her, and not another faceless doctor.""

Requiem Mulder leaves the airport, afraid Scully's cancer is back. Her joy and muddled responses comedically further this thought.

xphilernj's (Ao3, Two Close for Comfort) Find the Future - Chapter 1

""And, Scully, I wanted the IVFs to work. I truly *did* have those hopes and dreams ... but with you. Only with you. You ... you never knew it, but I grieved with you, for you, for us..." Mulder squeezed her fingers lightly, and reached up to wipe a stray tear away...""

Requiem Mulder rushes back to Scully's side; and Skinner leaves them both happily bantering about monkey babies.

HumphreyWrites/sure-fine-skullz/spookysadsophie/s-humphrey/sophie-writes-things/sophiewrites/SophieRobbins's (Alt. Tumblr , Ao3, WBM)

Requiem Redux

""Her breath hitches, and she smiles. “I’m fine, Mulder.”

He raises an eyebrow, “You know what’s wrong?”

She bites her lip. “In a manner of speaking,” she begins, as he looks at her curiously.""

Requiem Mulder left the airport, too worried about Scully to leave with Skinner.

@tatooedlaura-blog/tatooedlaura/Laura Sprys​’s Oregon

""...I will punch you if you do not take your hand off that door right now.”

“Then drive faster.”

“I drive any faster and we’re both going to die long before we reach the airport.""

Requiem Mulder chooses not to leave with the ship, stepping out of the woods to a flood of texts from TLG. Skinner gets him back ASAP; Scully assures him over the phone that everyone has prematurely panicked.

@cutelilcurtain/cutelilscully/cutelilwanda's (Ao3)

For the headcanons prompt: Mulder isn't abducted?

""He cannot process or read the expression on her face, and nothing could have prepared him for the softness of her voice, the hope that filled her watery gaze.

“Mulder, I’m pregnant.”

He freezes and she has to pull him into a sitting position on the bed for fear that he’ll collapse right there.""

Requiem Mulder finds nothing in Oregon but everything back home with Scully (who forgot to ask him about his trip until months later, wrapped up as they both were in their baby.)

Erin Blair/Erin M. Blair’s The Blessing

""Mulder sat stunned for a moment, certain he had misunderstood her words. This was *not* possible.

"You're what?!" he asked.""

Requiem Mulder is shell-shocked by Scully's good news in the hospital.

bellefleur's Arms Wide Open

""I open my eyes and for the first time take in the speckled gray linoleum at my feet. The lifeless tones are such a contrast to my spirits that I can't help but laugh to myself, and with the laughter comes a fresh round of tears. It seems I just can't stop them from streaming down my face, and right now, I don't care. With my head bowed, my hands buried in my hair, and my elbows propped on my knees, no one can really see my face anyway. I need what privacy I can muster, here in this public hallway, to come to terms with this all.

I still can't believe this is happening. I'm going to be a father.""

Requiem Mulder bolts after he and Scully are told she's pregnant. Maggie finds him in the hospital hallway, relieved he is just overwhelmed with happy, anticipatory nerves.

isamariposa's Bullfrogs and Jello

""He feels like throwing up when he steps into the hospital. Maybe he's allergic to the smell, whatever. He walks to the reception and swallows hard not to choke when he asks for Dana Scully. How many times has this happened, how many near-misses? She's on the third floor, they say. Mulder punches the button on the elevator, startles a child holding a balloon shaped like a bunny. He still thinks he's going to throw up. At least the ward is not the one for the terminally ill. He remembers that pain. It had toppled him in half.""

Requiem Mulder is replaced at the airport by Doggett, getting back to Scully as fast as he can. He, however, does not react positively to the pregnancy news, afraid it might be caused by CSM tampering.

@all-these-ghosts/all_these_ghosts’s Say Yes (Tumblr)

""I told you I love you,” he points out.

A smile flirts with the corners of her mouth. “Once,” she says.

“Now it’s twice. You haven’t even said it once.”

The smile fades, and her eyes are dark and trained right on him. Scully says, “I love you”, and his heart does this thing that makes him feel like he’s sixteen years old, even though of course he’s known all along.""

Post Requiem Mulder is not abducted in Oregon; but he does almost scare Scully to death, barging in gun drawn and frightening her into dropping her beloved watermelon.

@frangipanidownunder’s (Ao3) Already Special

""Scully’s news is a thunderbolt. That the impossible truth of their quest is revealed as a collection of growing cells in her uterus. It is both absurd and entirely right. The tears he cries with her are hard to quantify....

So, when Diana makes an appearance at the basement, it’s like the door to their secret world is blown off, leaving them exposed.""

Per Manum Mulder was never abducted; and he and Scully tackle the Lizzie Gill saga with a special addition... Diana Fowley.

@rationalcashew/RationalCashew's

Dark is the Way; Light is the Place - Chapter 26 (Ao3)

""As though it had a mind of its own, his hand reached out to cover her flat stomach. Her eyes, however, never left him; her smile didn’t wane.

“You okay over there?” She asked, after allowing him his moment. Her voice jolted him back into the room.

“Yeah,” he said, awkwardly removing his hand from her body. He let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. In disbelief, he said, “We’re having a baby.""

AU-- Mulder and Scully are sinking into domestic bliss when a serial killer case pulls them out of town. Mulder's paranoia for Scully and their baby's safety begins to put a wedge in their relationship, finally driving Scully back to D.C., trying to give them space while he gets into deeper and deeper trouble.

@cecilysass/cecily_sass/Cecily Sasserbaum's Pause

""Home pregnancy test. 99% Accurate. Results in minutes.

For thirty seconds the box sits there in Scully’s hands. She stares at it.

This box that her mother bought. This box that she put in her daughter’s bag. Her daughter whom she knows is infertile.

Somewhere in the apartment is the sharp sudden sound of Mulder turning off the shower.

Like a ghost, Scully stands up.

She takes the box and holds it under her arm, crosses the room, and steals Mulder’s keys from the entry table.

Without a sound she leaves the apartment.""

AU-- Scully wakes in her car, amnesic and unknowingly pregnant. Mulder at first doesn't believe it's her; and it's not until Maggie verifies and Diana Fowley leaves evidence for the duo to find that he can fully accept that his partner, who was "dead" for a year, is back.

DKSculder's Sweetest Devotion

""I, I had hoped you would be here, when the baby was born. So I put these in my hospital bag, to give to you here.” She took a deep breath, staring at the frayed pages in her hands. “These are my notes, on the x-files, on you. This is a documentation of every case we’ve worked, before I typed them up in reports. It’s mostly shorthand, just my own jotted down notations...."

“What’s the other one?”

“These, are my personal notes. More of a diary, if that’s how you want to look at it. The dates all coincide with the other.” She said softly, handing him the second binding of tattered pages.

He stared at them for longer than he probably should, she had just handed him the truth, her truth."" 

AU-- Scully has been a spy since the Pilot; and she finally confesses it to Mulder after she gets pregnant with their child. Mulder MIA, Mulder returning for a case then ghosting, Mulder arriving in time for the birth of their son, and Mulder crawling back to a form of trust in Scully unfolds painfully slowly.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

#txf #fic #Collector's Edition #Poll Results #Mulder Didn't Leave #Part 2 #rationalcashew #s-humphrey #Humphreywrites #spookysadsophie #sophiewrites #isamariposa #xphilernj #moonprincess92 #a_steady_wish #gilliansanderson #spensierata #mihosayuri #neytirijade #XScribe #Red #cutelilcurtain #cutelilwanda #allyinthekeyofx #Forte #Lapsed_Scholar #heartsfilthylesson #drbedeliadumaurier #cecilysass #DKSculder

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 15/34 - nature/nurture

[Read on AO3]

Krista is a lovely young woman. In her second year at Georgetown, with plans to get a Master's and a PhD after her undergraduate studies, having a child really isn't in the cards right now, nor would she be able to financially sustain the situation in a few years time. 

It turns out, the previous couple she'd selected ended up getting pregnant themselves and had to back out, which was just an added stressor for Krista who was trying to focus on her studies, knowing finals season would be approaching sooner than later.

Mulder and Scully are more than willing to step in, and by all accounts, their meeting with her went… well.

Really well, honestly.

Scully had bonded with her over their shared Alma Mater, and even happened to have taken the same introductory physics class as her with an ancient professor who is somehow still teaching after all these years.

Mulder, on the other hand, shares her interest in sports. It seems Krista had been quite the track and field athlete in her high school years, and also won State as the pitcher for her varsity softball team her senior year. 

They left the meeting feeling beyond hopeful, something they were unaccustomed to but were slowly beginning to come to terms with, finally.

“I think she really liked us, Scully!” Mulder says, glancing at her excitedly from the driver's seat of the car on their way home. “Can you imagine? If this works out, in less than six months, we'll be parents!”

“It's a scary thought, isn't it?” Scully asks, unable to suppress her own smile.

Scary, and about a million other things, Mulder thinks.

“The good kind of scary,” he says decidedly, and he delights when she nods in agreement, setting aside her skepticism for a moment.

“Yes.”

The drive back to their apartment goes quickly. The place near campus where they'd met up for lunch isn't far from her building at all, and if it had been a little warmer out, they might have even walked. Mulder puts the car in park and circles the vehicle, holding out his hand for Scully after she closes the passenger door, and her hand slides easily into his.

This is something they do now—holding hands. At some point in this process, the occasional gesture of comfort had turned to a casual, almost everyday thing, and Mulder isn't going to complain.

Maybe it was the need to keep up appearances as a married couple that made them do it. After all, in certain areas of their lives now, it's expected. With the adoption agency, with the birth mother… Their relationship, while close, is not one that fits into the mold of the wider public. It's easier to express it in this way for the benefit of others, rather than their usual way of showing affection.

On the other hand, maybe something between them really had shifted. He wouldn't soon forget how Scully had leaned on him, both literally and figuratively, after Pfaster. A year ago, he's not sure she would have trusted him like that, and in hindsight, she was right not to. He hadn't yet earned her trust back, and he'd regret ever breaking it in the first place for the rest of his life.

But she trusts him now. She lets him hold her and care for her and believe in her—believe for her—like he's always tried to do.

He will always consider standing by her side to be one of his greatest accomplishments in life. More than anything he has gained from his time on the X-Files, he has gained a friend. Someone who truly understands him.

He doesn't know what he could have done to deserve her. 

Maybe he will always battle these feelings of unworthiness, thinking he could never be enough for her, but it's far too late for him to let go now. Losing her would end him. It's why he had been hesitant to accept her proposal to try IVF in the first place. Every curveball life throws at him is just another thing that could potentially rip their relationship apart. He tries his best to keep those “surprises” to a minimum, but every so often, the opportunity presented is too good to pass up.

Sometimes, he has found, it's worth the risk.

He hopes it will be, in this case. They're so close to achieving what she—they— have longed for for so long, but there's still room for error.

The best he can do is keep moving forward. Stay the course, and pray for fair seas up ahead.

He thinks her father might appreciate his sailing analogy, but then again, he probably would have hated him regardless of his use of sea-based figurative language.

In the hallway, an older woman smiles at the two of them, and Mulder forces a polite smile back at her. He knows what her neighbors must think. They've seen him around for years, and he's even met a few of them in passing. But now he lives here, and his name is even on her mailbox next to hers. There's not much he could say to dissuade their gossiping at this point.

Scully opens the door, turning on a few lights as they shed their coats and put them away. The adrenaline that had fueled them before in what was possibly the most important meeting of their lives has left them exhausted, and he happily follows Scully toward the couch in the living room.

A lazy day is just what they need. Things are out of their hands now. After weeks—months —of preparation, they have done all they can. Now, all there is to do is wait.

It's almost routine, at this point, when they share a couch. Scully curls up under a blanket, her head against a throw pillow, while Mulder fishes the TV remote out of whatever crevice he inevitably left it in last time. He has to move her feet a little to sit down, but as soon as he's situated, he lets her rest them up against his leg.

She's somehow always freezing, but he doesn't mind.

He sets a Knicks game on the screen at a low volume and leans back, his head lolling against the backrest.

There’s something about staring at the swirling patterns on the ceiling that lends itself to deep contemplation. The muffled sound of the TV does too, but maybe that's just a him thing. He closes his eyes, thinking through the day's events. Thinking of the future.

“I feel for anyone in her position,” he says, the thought escaping him and breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen. He can sense Scully is still awake though, so he continues. “It can't be easy to give up your own child, especially when the circumstances are out of your hands. But, in this case…” 

He's thought of this a lot, lately. About how one person's misfortune may well be another’s salvation. It's a hard dichotomy to grasp.

“Well, it's a good thing for us, anyway,” he finishes, placing a hand over Scully's ankle. “We might actually get a chance to do this.”

“I hope so,” she murmurs into her pillow.

He opens his eyes, glancing down at her in her restful state.

“We will. I have a good feeling,” he says with all the confidence he can muster. It feels odd, this hope, but it's as real and true to him as the love he carries for his partner. “Wow, it's been a while since I've said those words.”

She breathes out an amused chuckle, curling further into the cushions before she responds.

“For once, I'm inclined to believe you.”

His lips curl in a smile and he playfully tickles her foot. 

“I've never been so happy to hear you say that, Scully.”

He knows he should let her sleep, but there are just too many thoughts running through his head that he can't restrain himself. There's a whole world of possibilities about to open up for them. It's exciting and terrifying all at once, and she knows he’s a compulsive talker in those kinds of situations.

He's thankful that she hasn't grown tired of him already and moved to her bedroom to take a nap instead. If they were really husband and wife, that wouldn't stop him. He'd still be able to talk her ear off all night long if he wanted, or until she kicked him out on the couch.

“I can tell you want to say something,” Scully says knowingly, smirking up at him out the corner of her eye.

She knows him so well.

“You think I could coach little league?” he asks, speaking his thoughts aloud. “I mean, I know the kid’s still like the size of a banana, but in a few years’ time—”

“I think that's a great idea.” She turns slightly, adjusting her position so she can see his face properly, and the ridiculousness of his own question causes his cheeks to redden. But Scully takes him seriously. She always does. That's what makes her different from everybody else.

“We have a lot in common with her, you know,” he says, his fingertips massaging unconsciously into her lower calves. “With Krista. Brainy and athletic, all rolled into one. It'll be like having our own little über Mulder-Scully.”

“Don't make me start a nature versus nurture argument with you,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“I'm a psychologist, Scully. I could make a pretty strong case either way.”

She smiles, shaking her head in what he likes to think can be called fond annoyance. They fall silent, eyes locked in a gaze so heavy that he starts to feel a little drunk. The way she mesmerizes him might be worthy of opening an X-File someday. Just to investigate.

“We might have just met our baby, Mulder. Isn't that crazy?” she says, shifting the conversation suddenly in a more serious direction. There's awe in her voice, and he feels it too. “To have been within five feet of this person we'll know and love for the rest of our lives?”

It isn't like Scully to be so optimistic. She's always lived her life believing that to speak your deepest desires aloud is to make yourself vulnerable. Part of him is surprised that she's not being more cautious now with getting her hopes up, but seeing her this way?

He likes it. He likes it a lot.

Maybe he's finally rubbing off on her.

Her arm pops out of her blanket and she reaches for him, drawn to him like a magnet. He happily entwines his fingers with hers, his thumb stroking over the back of her hand.

“I can't wait, Scully.”

~~~

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

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @gillian-anderson-in-the-tardis @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @msrafterdark @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption

[deathsbestgirl]

like i just love skeptic mulder & believer scully. they are SO important to me.

mulder wants to believe, scully is afraid to believe but she does. mulder is so skeptical and fights everyday to believe. i think about quagmire and how he wanted something tangible. i think about endgame and how he was struggling to hold onto his quest, and running off without telling scully & endangering himself...he at least found his faith to keep looking. he has always wanted proof, but he wanted to believe so badly he took every single person at their word and believed the things he saw and scully reminded him about the kind of proof they need. and its like in the pilot — scully believed because of dirt. she still wanted more proof, but it was enough for her believe that something crazy was going on — and mulder is the one to bring her back down to earth.

scully took her skeptic role very seriously after that. deep throat solidified it because he would even believe high teenagers. and she learned how much he needed back up because he will go to extreme lengths to find proof. so she makes it her job to prove anything she can — and it excites scully so much. in squeeze, not only does she solidly place herself on the victims' side, on mulder's side...they found a liver eating human mutant!!

i also find it extremely interesting that in miracle man (the first religious episode?) that scully is not taken in by samuel, but mulder is. this is months after conduit where he cries in a church of a god he doesn't believe in, but i think he wants to believe in god too. but believing in an all powerful god who lets these horrible things happen (but doesn't that ignore free will?) is too much for him. i think the one thing mulder truly believes in is the good of humanity. he tries to understand the worst people and when all he finds is evil, he writes them off completely (boggs, roche). (and someone like gerry schnauz, a schizophrenic man, he believes gerry thinks he's helping the women he lobotomizes & kills.) and he didn't believe samuel because of god or religion, but mulder believed him to be psychic. scully spent this entire episode concerned about mulder, which she often is. not because he's believing, but because she ~knows what drives him and she knows how he can get lost in cases that remind him of samantha.

scully's number one job is mulder's protector. she tries to make it safe for him to believe and seek the truth. she does that with science & facts, finding the proof...and following him any & everywhere.

anyway. they can both be hypocrites but it's often out of fear and the discomfort of stepping outside of their roles. they are roles they play and strengthen their relationship. but it also makes it difficult until they figure out how to be flexible. to allow space for their ranges in belief & skepticism. allowing the other to change them and understanding it won't ruin their partnership, or their work.

like kae said, scully learns from mulder. she's always learning. but so is mulder. it's also what makes season six so great. they're constantly confronting it and by the time all things comes around, mulder can believe scully talks to god even if he doesn't believe in god and even if that isn't how scully understood it. wherever that vision came from, she let it help her save daniel and validate her choices, understanding what she wanted and how all of her choices lead her there. finally knowing it's exactly what she wants, she's not the girl she used to be and she can find relief & happiness in that. like she tells him in je souhaite.

it's just really beautiful to me. sometimes scully's still afraid to believe but she does it. because mulder gives her courage. and sometimes mulder still struggles to believe, but scully always gives him the space & safety to find his way back to it.

#this is very possibly nonsense #and i may have said this before but #I JUST LOVE THEM #like. they were just so made for each other #their entire lives got them ready for the other #and then they made sure they got there #even when they didn't know it yet #mine