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alwaysforyouscully · 7 years

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Conclusion: Part 6 of Plausible Theory

Part One: Plausible Theory

Part Two: Hypothesis

Part Three: Observation

Part Four: Experimentation

Part Five: Analysis

AO3: alwaysforyouscully

Summary: This has been AU as far as the timeline goes and this chapter will follow suit. Sometime around Season 6. Mulder and Scully have some decisions to make. Scully may be pregnant.

Conclusion of Plausible Theory.

Epilogue at the end.

Warnings: PG-13 Angst and Fluff

Scully fell against the couch, head in her hands as she screamed his name. She knew he wouldn't come back, for sure not tonight, if ever. Why would he? She basically just told him that she could be pregnant, with his baby no less and wasn't in a hurry to find out if it was true.

The truth is however that she wants to know, she wants to know so badly that is hurts. She wants it to be true, true she is having Mulder's baby. So much so that she has barely slept in weeks. Scully pushes off the side of the sofa and heads back to her bedroom.

Scully lays on the bed suddenly nauseous, she breathes deep trying to calm her stomach. Her nose is buried in the tousled sheets, breathing in Mulder's scent combined with her own. The smell is confronting and she curls up in the sheets as her eyes drift closed in exhaustion.

Mulder pulls away from her apartment building still crying. He can't understand what has happened. Scully loves him, he's sure of it. The look in her eyes when she says she loves him, the way she breathes his name when they make love. He can't have imagined it, it was too real.

He speeds back to his apartment, thoughts racing though his mind. Why wouldn't she want his baby? Why did she hide it from him only to tell him she didn't want to find out.

At his apartment, he closes the door and rests his head against the cool wood. Mulder turns the lock and spins towards the dining table. He grasps the edge and upends the table and it skids across the floor. He can think of nothing else except the baby Scully could be carrying and all the reasons why she doesn’t want him to be a part of it.

Anger builds inside him. He can't take loosing her, their life together or the possibility of a baby and the reality that Scully doesn’t want any of these things. Mulder moves room to room trashing everything that could remind him of what he just lost. His heart, his life, his best friend and most of all a life he though both he and Scully wanted.

*******************************************************************************

Skinner sits at his kitchen bar eating a take out salad when his phone rings, “Skinner.”

“Mr. Walter Skinner?”

“Yes, Who is this?”

“Umm, this is Sam Matthews. I'm the landlord for Fox Mulder's building. There has been so sort of disturbance in his apartment this evening and well I called his other emergency contact but there was no answer, so I called you.”

“Disturbance? What kind of disturbance and who was the other contact?” Skinner knew who it was but had to ask.

“Well, a Dana Scully was the other contact. She's very nice, I've met her but she didn't answer. I was just.. well, there was a lot of banging, glass breaking and something that sounded.. well.. I'm not sure but sounded like a gunshot and I'm not sure how well you know Mr. Mulder but there have been plenty of incidents in his apartment and I just think its better if someone else goes in first.” Matthews voice trails off.

“Thank you, Mr. Matthews. I'll be right over.” Skinner changes clothes and heads to Mulder's apartment.

*********************************************************************************

Scully wakes with a start. She is cold without Mulder laying next to her. She sits slowly trying to wrap her mind around what should happen now.

She needs to prove to Mulder this is something that she wants but is scared to voice her concerns. She realizes that she has had three weeks to think this though and truth be told she has never been very forthcoming with her feelings.

The first week she was late caused no real concern, she was not very regular since her abduction and a week here or there wasn't unusual. By the second week she actually started to think it was possible and that's when the sleeplessness started. She finally called her doctor and made an appointment when week three came and she still hadn’t started.

Scully has no doubt that Mulder would move heaven and earth to make her happy but at what cost to him? How could they raise a child and still work like they do the X-Files. Were would they live? A year together and they still have their own apartments, neither she nor Mulder have mentioned cohabiting must less marriage.

She knew Skinner would get her reassigned back to Quantico in a heartbeat but where would that leave Mulder? Alone on the X-Files or worse working with Diana. Scully shudders at the thought of Diana anywhere near Mulder. She knows if she brings up her concerns, Mulder will quit, leave his work behind and take a job teaching at a college or at the academy.

She figures he would be happy at first but what about in six months, a year or three years from now? Would he resent her? Would he wish for the X-files back? Ultimately would he leave her to get his life back and follow his need to seek the truth. His leaving her is what scares her the most.

Is having a child she has longed for worth the chance of loosing Mulder in the end? She is nauseous again and runs to the bathroom. Hanging her head over the toilet bowl she resigns to the fact that she needs to find out sooner rather than later, and Mulder needs to be by her side when she does.

Mulder has made a path though the living room, chair, coffee table, desk all turned inside out and upside down. As he heads to the kitchen in search of whatever liquor he can find, he sees a card on the table in the hall. Its from Scully, a 'just because I love you' card she gave him last month.

It makes him pause and stop to read it. He tilts he head at the picture on the front, a pea pod with two smiling peas looking back at him. He opens the card and reads the caption. 'Your pod or mine' and Scully's handwritten words underneath, 'Any pod if fine as long as you're mine' with a big heart below it. Mulder snatches the card off the table and crumples it up. He throws it in the sink and turns on the trash disposal, then the tap. The disposal whines then hums as the card shreds and washes down the drain.

He turns from the sink and searches the cabinets for the bottle of whiskey the Gunmen left after one of their all night conspiracy fests.

********************************************************************************

Skinner calls Scully on his way to Mulder's apartment and it goes to voice-mail. He is trying to not be overly concerned, knowing them like he does but he is starting to panic just a little. He reaches Mulder's apartment and is met by Mr. Matthews.

“ Hello, Mr. Skinner?”

“Yes, do you know anymore than what you told me on the phone?”

“ Umm, no. I haven't heard anything else.”

“Okay, Please just let me in.”

Skinner enters slowly looking back at the landlord, “Just wait here.” he says as he steps in, gun by his side. He scans the apartment and determines it looks like a blind burglar ransacked the place. Most of the furniture in upended, lamps, knick knacks and books are scattered across the floor.

The only thing untouched is his fish tank, blue, bubbly and serene, a complete opposite to the destruction he sees. Skinner heads to the bedroom and stops in his tracks.

Mulder is laying on a stripped mattress, bare chested with what looks like his t-shirt wrapped around his right hand. His head is turned pressed into the mattress with a red blood stain creating a halo around his dark hair.

Skinner steps forward, glass from the dresser mirror crunching under his feet. He gently eases his hand to Mulder’s neck and feels for a pulse. He pulse is strong and thumps under Skinners fingers. Skinner straightens up and lets out a breath, he heads back to the front door and reassures Mr. Matthews that all is okay and thanks him for calling. Just has he is shutting the door, Scully pushes on it, brown paper sack in her hand.

“What.. what are you doing here, Sir? What's going on?” she sputters. Her heart racing at the reason AD Skinner would be at Mulder's apartment. Skinner blocks the door and Scully pushes against his chest.

“What are you doing here? Where's Mulder?” she screams.

Skinner grabs her shoulders and pulls her inside. He pushes her towards the kitchen, kicking the door shut in the process. Once in the kitchen he can see the panic on her face at what he is about to tell her. “Agent Scully, stop. He's mostly okay from what I can tell but obviously something happened earlier and...”

Scully cuts him off by twisting her arms from his grasp and running out of the kitchen.

“Mulder!” she yells. “Mulder!”

She stops short in the bedroom doorway at the sight of Mulder face down on the unmade bed. She drops the bag from the pharmacy and gingerly sits on the bed beside him. She runs her hand over his shoulder and his skin is warm under her palm.

Her heart moves out of her throat just a little and she brushes the hair off his forehead. This has always been her way to confront Mulder after he was injured, just a touch to let him know she was there and everything was going to be okay.

As his hair moves aside she sees the large gash from his right eyebrow to his hairline, blood still seeping from the wound. She checks his pulse and respirations before standing and heading to the bathroom for a wet towel.

She returns to the bed and gently cleans the gash on Mulder's head. He stirs slightly, “Scully?”

“Yes its me. Just lay still I'll be right back.” Scully leaves the bedroom and finds Skinner in the living room sweeping up broken glass.

“Sir, thank you for coming but I can take it from here.”

“Agent Scully, what happened here? I'm not leaving until I know whats going on.”

“Well, Mulder and I had a misunderstanding and he got a little angry.” She hangs her head at the obvious understatement, waiting for Skinner's response.

“Dana.” Skinner hopes the use of her first name will show how important his next words are. “I've been in love and I've been married. This isn't...” Skinner sweeps his arm in a gesture to encompass the damage done in the apartment. “...a misunderstanding. So tell me what is going on.”

Scully takes a deep breath and holds it before letting it out in a rush. “I think I might be pregnant and I was afraid to tell Mulder because I knew he would give anything to have this baby. If it turned out to be true, I didn't want him to give up what he worked so hard for, the X-files, looking for his sister, his search for the truth and I was scared that at some point he would resent me and the baby for giving up so much and he would leave us. I can't bear the thought of loosing him, not after everything we've been through.

She sucks in air, her lungs burning from her rambling. Scully's back is to the bedroom door so she doesn’t see Mulder in the doorway.

Skinner sees him approach but doesn’t let on. “Agent Scully, umm...Dana, I never had children because my wife felt much like you. She was afraid that my work was too important to me to be bothered with a child or a family. Funny thing is she never told me how she felt until after we divorced. Truth is I would have done anything to have had that chance, to have a son or a daughter, a family with her.

Mulder listens to their conversation, his heart breaking for the second time today both for Skinner, Scully and himself. Skinner sees the look in his eyes and steps closer to Scully.

“Tell him how you feel, Dana. Don't rob him or yourself of the happiness you deserve.” He pats her shoulder and turns for the door, looking up at Mulder silently giving him the same advise before leaving.

Scully follows Skinner's eyes and turns to find Mulder in the doorway. She runs into his arms and Skinner steps into the hall, hopeful they can find their way.

Scully breaks from their embrace and takes Mulder's hand. She leads him to the bathroom and begins working on his wounds.

She removes the T-shirt and runs his hand under warm water in the sink. She flexes his fingers, checking for broken bones. Mulder sits on the toilet, watching the concentration play across her doctor face like so many times before. He wonders how she can detach so easily from someone she knows or loves in order to diagnose their injuries without bias.

“Scully?” he starts.

“Shh, Mulder. Let me finish” He is used to this. There will be no 'his Scully' until Dr. Scully is finished.

Scully puts antibiotic cream on his knuckles and places butterfly bandages on his forehead. She is washing her hands before he talks again.

“Scully, why are you here? Why did you come here tonight? I thought you had made your decision about having a baby with me?”

Scully turns towards him.“Mulder you know that I would give anything to have a child and if that child was yours, well that would be even better. I have loved you for so long and to have this chance is something I could only dream about. I was scared that it would be too much for us, for you. I went to the pharmacy and got a pregnancy test, like you wanted to do. I should have included you and I am sorry I let my doubts get in the way of what we could have together.

Scully picks the bag from the floor and takes Mulder's hand. “Let's see if we're having baby.”

Scully takes the bag and goes into the bathroom to take the test. She comes out, stick in hand and places it on the dresser.

Mulder sets the alarm on his phone for 5 minutes and sits on the end of the bed, Scully pacing in front of him. The stick is perched on the edge of the dresser like a siren from Homer's 'Odyssey', singing a song so beautiful that it draws all that hear it into her web.

The alarm on the Mulder’s phone goes off and they both jump. Scully moves towards the dresser and Mulder grabs her arm.

“Scully wait...wait just a minute. I want to say something before we know for sure. You were right to doubt my willingness to leave what I have been searching for so long. If it had been anyone other than you, I'm not sure I could just walk away.”

Scully moves to stand between his legs and pulls him close to her chest.

“I never want you to regret any choice you make because of me, for me or in spite of me. I want this Mulder, I want to have your baby. I would have been happy with our life as it is but this is something I have always wanted. I just didn't think it was possible anymore.”

“Never give up on a miracle, Scully.” Mulder tells her as he reaches around her back and plucks the test off the dresser. “You ready?”

“Yes?” Her voice trembling, tears threatening to fall.

Mulder glances at the stick in his hand and sees two lines, he knows what that means but doesn’t tell Scully just yet.

“Okay, Scully. Tell me again one line means?”

“Negative” she whispers.

“So that means two lines is positive?”

“Yes, Mulder. Two lines.. she pushes away from him suddenly frustrated by his lack of comprehension.

“Alright, alright, come back here.” He makes a show of looking at the test behind her back. Scully's face is buried in his neck.

“Well Scully” his voice is low and even. “You better start picking out names that don't start with Fox.”

Scully raises her head, her eyes wet with tears of regret, knowing for sure that the results were negative.

“What? Pick out names... Mulder.. are you sure, its two lines.. two lines means positive. Let me..” She spins and grabs the stick from his hands. She looks at the test and sits back against Mulder's lap.

“Mulder, its positive.” She cradles the test in her cupped hands.

“It is Scully, we made a baby.”

“It's two lines Mulder. Two lines means it's positive.”

“Yes, I know.” Mulder says, grinning like an idiot. Tears rolling from his eyes.

Scully turns back to look at Mulder's face, searching for something to anchor her to this moment. She sees the tears in his eyes and looks back at the test.

“Mulder, there are two lines.” She says like a child showing the teacher her new discovery.

Mulder chuckles and pulls her closer “Scully, the smartest person I know told me two lines means positive, so I'm pretty clear on the results.

Scully looks back up at his face and smiles. Mulder smiles back and pulls her in for a kiss.

Epilogue:

Set four years later......

Scully comes into the living room in her robe and pajamas. She had slept in this Saturday morning at Mulder's request so he and Will would have time to 'create' her birthday surprise. Scully had rolled her eyes at the thought of her boys doing any number of things to her kitchen but Will had looked so excited about helping Daddy with the surprise she let it go with a smile.

As she enters, Will screams “Mommy, Happy Birf..day!” in his cute three year old voice, wrapping his little arms around her legs and squeezing tight. “Thank you, baby. A hug from you is the best birthday present I've ever gotten.

Just then Mulder comes in from the kitchen, flour on his face and shirt, apron tied around his waist and a grin on his lips.

“Daddy, Daddy?” Will pulls on his hand but Mulder is still looking at Scully wondering if its appropriate to ask Maggie to watch Will on such short notice. He will never get enough of her and on days like today when she is happy and rested with flushed cheeks and tousled hair, he would do just about anything to get her alone for even a few minutes.

Will pulls harder. “Daddy! Can I give Mommy her real pez..ent? She t..inks I got her a hug!”

Will stands pouting, tears rimming his eyes. Mulder looks away from Scully and smiles down at his son. “Yes, Buddy. Please go get Mommy her present.”

Will takes off towards his bedroom and Mulder steps up close to Scully undoing the tie on her robe. He runs his hand over her rounded stomach as he whispers in her, “Happy Birthday, Mommy.” He kisses her neck and draws his hand up towards her breast, his actions hidden by her robe. “I have a present for you too, Scully.”

Scully shivers at the thought of Mulder's present and turns to capture his mouth with hers. Mulder tweaks her nipple as Scully slips her tongue past his lips. Mulder moves to deepen their kiss when Scully breaks away suddenly remembering their son would be returning any second.

“Mulder.” she breathes. Her hand finding his and placing it back on her stomach, their second miracle gently kicking her father's hand. “Don't you think you have giving me enough presents, already?”

Mulder winks and pecks her lips.“Oh, Scully. Its been my pleasure, I assure you.”

#msr #plausible theory #babies

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allyinthekeyofx · 7 years

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Small considerations between partners - 7 ‘Swaying isn’t dancing’

Previous chapters - Season one Season two Season three Season four

Season five Fight The Future

SMALL CONSIDERATIONS BETWEEN PARTNERS

AllyinthekeyofX

SWAYING ISN’T DANCING

Season six – post ‘The Rain King’

As I carefully negotiate the car back to the motel I am aware that Scully is unusually quiet beside me; in fact she has barely said a word since we left the auditorium and while I’m more than accustomed to the companionable silences that often stretch between us, this seems different somehow because the vibe she is giving me, while not annoyed exactly is certainly more than a little off.

If it weren’t for the residual floodwater that occasionally laps almost to the bottom of the door seals when we hit a dip in the road I would probably find some way to question her on it but right now I am more concerned with us getting back in one piece. The problem being of course is that the longer I don’t speak, the less inclined she will be to tell me what is bothering her. She has always been the same way and I’ve discovered through years of trial and error that if I can catch her early enough, before she starts to rationalise, I have a slim chance of her opening up; but leave it too long and the book is closed for good.

So I risk a glance in her direction, surprised to discover that she isn’t looking straight ahead as her profile suggested, but that her head is actually angled slightly toward mine, watching me as I drive us through the deserted streets. The minute my eyes meet hers though she swallows and looks away, a curious expression on her face that seems like a mixture of embarrassment and something else I’ve never seen before and which I can’t quite put my finger on.

“You okay Scully?”

I fully expect to hear the usual verbal fallback from her in response to my question and I’m totally unprepared when she simply shakes her head slightly and presses her lips together in a tight thin line – in fact if I didn’t know her better I would swear she is trying not to cry. And I’m mystified because as far as I can see, our night has been pretty successful at least inasmuch as we actually managed to close a case with some kind of positive resolution for all concerned. The rain stopped, order was restored, the good guy finally got his gal and no one died; all in all I that’s a pretty damn fine result for us.

It’s clear though that my partner isn’t sharing my sense of fulfilment. So I try a different tack.

“So how about Holman and Sheila huh?”

Nothing. Nada. Zip.

“Scully?”

She sighs beside me.

“What do you want me to say Mulder? That I’m pleased for them? I am.”

There is something in the way she says it that should set alarm bells ringing but for the life of me I can’t quite figure this thing out and instead of doing the smart thing and letting it lie, I go right ahead in to dangerous territory.

“You don’t sound very pleased...”

“Leave it Mulder. I’m tired okay?”

And there it is.

The perfect opportunity to just back right off and ignore the way her voice has changed tone slightly and which is now heading from quietly resigned to mightily pissed at roughly the speed of sound and I’ve learned enough harsh lessons in the past where this woman is concerned to know that it would be advisable right about now to just allow her to wallow in whatever it is she is currently wallowing in and keep driving.

But high IQs and eidetic memories don’t necessarily go hand in hand with doing the smart thing. So instead I pull the car over to the side of the road and switch on the hazards.

“Scully?”

Her name is barely formed on my lips before she rounds on me, twisting her body against the constraints of the seatbelt as she finally looks directly at me, her eyes liquid blue; dark and dangerous in the half light that filters in to the car’s interior from the streetlamps outside.

“You don’t get it do you Mulder? You just don’t fucking get it.”

I open my mouth to respond but find there is just nothing there, because clearly she is right. I don’t get it.

Whatever the fuck ‘it’ is.

So I just stay silent, hoping for at least another verbal cue from her so I might make sense of what it is about this night that has upset her so much.

I don’t have to wait long.

“I’m envious if you must know. In fact I’m jealous okay? Because just for once I would like someone to look at me the same way he looked at her; like she was the sun, moon and stars and that nothing else existed in the world except her. I want someone to one day hold me like he held her; like he was holding the fucking universe in his arms and that she was the answer to every question he had ever asked...”

She trails off suddenly and whether she is aware of it or not, a single tear begins to track its way down her cheek as she smiles sadly at me.

“I wanted to dance Mulder. For a few minutes I wanted to feel like every other woman deserves to feel even just for once in her life; I wanted to dance with you and just.........shit, I don’t know....just forget it okay? It’s stupid”

And she looks away, swiping angrily at that single tear, instantly embarrassed by her admission which is probably heightened by my reaction. Because right now I am just sat staring at her stupidly and I’m pretty sure that my face is registering an equal combination of shock and disbelief at this sudden outpouring from her. My partner of six long years who, if only she knew it, was already way up there with the sun, moon and stars and had been for longer than I care to remember and who makes the universe pale into insignificance every time I see her there beside me, as I marvel again and again that despite everything she is still with me.

And I want to reach out to her, to find the words to make her understand, but what I actually manage is about as insipid a response as I could possibly make in the face of her desperate words.

“We did dance” I manage weakly and immediately wish I hadn’t when I see the disappointment and hurt flare briefly in her eyes. Because she has just opened her emotions to me in a way she never has before, laid herself bare and vulnerable and that’s all I could come up with?

I don’t deserve her.

I don’t really think I ever have.

Because I’m an asshole.

“We swayed Mulder. Swaying isn’t dancing; and it wasn’t even face to face swaying. It was sideways swaying.”

And her tone just about rips my heart from my chest. Because I don’t know what to do to make this better for her; have no fucking idea how to respond to her as frankly, it’s a side to her I’ve never seen before. I know she loves me of course; I’m as certain of that as I have ever been about anything in my life, and she must know by now I love her too – that she is my everything and that without her my life is just a deep, dark, fathomless void.

I mean surely she knows that......right?

So why didn’t I ask her to dance tonight? I mean, it’s not like the opportunity presents itself too often in our line of work, and most especially there is rarely cause for me to really touch her for reasons other than when the hurt and the pain and the emotional need within us both boils over. I can’t count the amount of times I have held her to give comfort – to her, to me, to us both – but allowing myself to embrace her just because I want to?

Nope. Never happens.

I think sometimes I am afraid to touch her; afraid that if I’m not anchored by the safety of our shared distress that touching her will make me feel something I’m not sure she is either ready or willing to reciprocate and the mere thought of her denying me, of pushing me away, of reminding me of the professional boundaries she holds against her like a protective force.....well, suffice to say it’s not a place I ever want to find myself in with her. We’ve gone through far too much for me to fuck it all up now with my slightly clumsy advances and sometimes it seems like I have a hundred checks and balances in place just to protect me from her. It’s one of the reasons I rarely drink when I’m around her now because I think my desire for her bubbles so close to the surface that it would take very little for me to push aside my inhibitions and simply tell her how I feel.

And that’s why I’m so confused now about her admission to me, because we both have unspoken lines that we never cross, drawn so very long ago and never really fading even when we want them to, because God knows I want to be with her but I’m Fox Mulder and my whole life has been pretty much about denying myself. So why should this be any different?

But right now she is hurting and every instinct I have is screaming at me to somehow take that hurt away. If that means stepping over the fucking lines then so be it; because she has hurt enough over the last couple of years to last several lifetimes and she deserves better than this.

Maybe we both do.

I risk a quick glance at her profile, inwardly wincing at the tension that is all too obvious by the way her jaw is clenched, the slight spasm as muscle twitches against bone and it takes everything I have not to just reach out to her and stroke my fingertips across her skin. But this is neither the time nor the place, so instead I simply key the ignition and navigate the car back onto the flooded road.

XXXXXXXXX

We finally reached the motel without a single word being exchanged between us. Scully had totally closed herself off from me – whether she is still pissed at me or because she is angry at herself for allowing a chink to open up in her defensive armour I’m not sure – but the end result is the same and I know her well enough by now to have the sense to just allow her to do what she needs to do.

Right now that means she needs to create some space between us so that she can lick her wounds and attempt to re-group herself in some way so that she can close the gap that has inexplicably widened between us; it’s a tried and tested method, one we have both employed a hundred times, a thousand times in the years since our partnership began but sometimes, just sometimes, I find myself wondering what would happen if we didn’t always find a way to retreat from each other. I know full well that it is dangerous to think like that but I’m just so sick and tired of denying to myself and to her just exactly what she means to me.

I waited until she was in the bathtub – her place of escape in the absence of an actual room of her own – before I slipped quietly out of the door and headed to the motel’s reception where I had spotted a rather elderly looking cassette player when we checked in a couple of days ago and although I had hoped that I could persuade the rather surly manager to lend it to me based solely on my charm offensive, she actually swiftly divested me of fifty big ones with the singular ease of a backstreet hustler. Ten bucks for ‘rental’ and the other forty as security lest I decide to turn feral and heft it out the window; and it didn’t even occur to me to argue with her, because this is for Scully and frankly I would have removed the shirt off my back and handed it over without a murmur if that’s what it had taken.

And now, back in the room I wait until I hear the sound of the water draining away before I depress the ‘play’ button, smiling because suddenly there is music where before there was silence. I have no real way of knowing how she will react, but even if this goes horribly wrong, it can’t be any worse than what we had an hour ago and at least she will know that I listened to her; that I tried. Because truthfully, I think I don’t try hard enough where she is concerned and more than anything I want that to change – for her to know that she is important and valued more than I value anything else in my life.

The look on her face when she walks out of the small bathroom is priceless, not least because I hadn’t really considered the music choice might not be quite the most appropriate and that Phil Collins warbling that we share a groovy kind of love is maybe not quite the message I was hoping to convey but I’m a little rusty at this kind of shit and I think it’s fair to say that I didn’t have the luxury of forward planning.

But it’s done now, the choice is made, the stage is set and if I can only force a few words out of my mouth then everything will be just peachy.

Of course I find myself totally unable to string together anything even remotely coherent at this point so it’s probably a good thing that Scully, on occasion, seems to have the singular ability to read my mind and work her way through the tangled web that makes up my thought process because even as she quirks her eyebrow questioningly in my direction, she can’t quite keep the smirk from tugging at the corners of her mouth.

She is wearing a pair of shapeless flannel pyjamas that are about three sizes too big, her hair is slightly damp and curling messily around her face and as she stands there in the doorway listening to Phil do his thing, the smirk suddenly morphs into a full-on Scully grin that lights up her whole face and almost sends me stumbling backwards onto my ass because she is beautiful.

Christ she is beautiful. How did I never truly see her before now?

So I step towards her, finding her eyes and locking my gaze with hers, conscious suddenly that something is shifting between us, that this is no longer just about making her happy or about playing our finely honed game and in fact, I am ready to acknowledge a truth between us that we have denied for too many years.

I reach out and take her hand in mine, pulling her gently towards me so that she is nestled against my chest, the delicious feeling of her arms snaking around my waist, small fingers softly kneading my skin like a cat as I drop my chin to rest lightly on the crown of her head, breathing in the scent of her as finally, finally, we begin to dance.

End

#small considerations my fic season 6 rain king series wip

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