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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

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Dazed and Confused (Part 7)

Summary: Dean Winchester grew up wanting to be a cop. When he gets kicked out of the police academy on a fluke though, he turns to a life of crime. After breaking up with Dean and seeing him committing a crime in the act, the reader becomes an officer herself and eventually a detective. Four years after that day, the reader is sent undercover to figure out what Dean is up to. Only she has no idea how far Dean is willing to go to keep her from finding out the truth…

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 2,800ish

Warnings: language, scary situations, violence, murder, etc.

A/N: This series has been on Ao3 only for awhile now and I am finally reposting here as well. It’s not new but it may be new to you. Please enjoy!...

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When you got to the hospital, the entire department was there, lingering around the hallways, the side eyed glances you’d gotten just days earlier when people came to visit you all but gone, replaced with apologetic looks.

“Someone is targeting my people,” said John, speaking to the most senior members of the department. “I want everyone on high alert and…Y/N. Sam.”

“Hey dad,” said Sam, John pulling him into a hug, Sam tense at the contact but he could easily pass it off as being worried for his friend. “I heard about Jack.”

“He had an Uncle listed as his emergency contact but we haven’t been able to get in touch with him yet,” said John. “I don’t think the kid has much in the way of family.”

“Yeah he does,” you said, glancing around, John nodding. “What happened?”

“We got a call about an unconscious stabbing vic just down the street from his apartment from a neighbor coming home around 8. He lost a lot of blood. Serious injuries. He might not wake up,” said John, glancing toward the room down the hall.

“Can I see him?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said, waving Sam along with you. “Just be prepared.”

You grimaced when you turned the corner into his room, seeing Jack hooked up to a million different machines, bandages everywhere on his body.

“Y/N, you have no clue how those drugs got in your system. Someone nearly killed Jack tonight,” said John, turning to Sam. “If you see or hear from your brother, you call the police immediately, understand? Someone is attacking officers and we just helped a federal investigation on him. I can’t think of anyone else that would-”

“Fuck you,” said Sam, storming off down the hall, John going after him. You sighed, knowing Sam was smart enough to keep his mouth shut, no matter how pissed John got him.

“Hey, Jack,” you said quietly, walking over beside the bed, doing your best to think of him as a vic and not a friend. As soon as you got that perspective, you nearly lost it.

His injuries were identical to those on Mary. Maybe the cuts hadn’t been as deep. Maybe John didn’t have time to finish what he started but it didn’t matter. You’d stared at her file enough the past day that you knew whoever attacked Jack killed Mary.

“Hang in there, Jackie,” you said, patting the top of his head. “We’re going to get him. I promise.”

Out in the hall, Sam looked like he’d settled down, John looking calmer as they spoke quietly.

“Everything alright out here?” you said.

“Dean is our number one suspect. I’d like if you were on protective duty for Sam,” said John, Sam rolling his eyes. “Something you want to say, Sam?”

“No, sir,” muttered Sam, glancing at you and then the ground.

“Keep him in your sight at all times,” said John. “Please.”

“What are you going to do?” you asked.

“Bobby and the senior boys will work the scene. Everyone else we’ll send out on a manhunt. Check old buildings, out buildings, abandoned businesses...Dean’s got to be around here somewhere,” said John.

“I’ll keep Sam safe,” you said.

“Take him back to your apartment. Sam, you do exactly what Y/N says, got it?” asked John.

“Yes, sir,” said Sam, walking towards the elevators without you, John scoffing.

“He has no idea how hard this is for me. He just thinks I hate his brother,” said John. “I’m only trying to keep him and everyone else safe.”

“I’ll talk to him,” you said, John nodding his head. “Can you post someone here at the hospital? For Jack?”

“Yeah,” said John. “We’ll make sure whoever did that doesn’t come back.”

“Thanks,” you said, meeting Sam at the elevator, Sam shaking when the doors were shut.

“Y/N,” said Sam with a croak.

“We’ll stop your dad, I promise,” you said.

“What if Jack dies?” he said in a whisper. “He should have been with us. The runt was no match for dad. Hell, our dad killed his dad.”

“Sam,” you said, grabbing his hand. “I need you to calm down for me. The doctor’s will do what they can for Jack and he’s tough. We need to stay focused, keep ourselves safe and give Dean a heads up to find a better hiding place.”

“How are you so calm?” asked Sam.

“I’m going to take care of you, that’s why,” you said, Sam taking a few deep breaths. “We aren’t going back to my apartment Sam. Your dad must have gotten the knife to go after Jack with.”

“We know exactly where it is,” said Sam. “But wouldn’t he have made it look like Dean did it?”

“Yeah, which is why we need that knife. If he doesn’t have it, he can’t incriminate Dean,” you said. “At least not concretely.”

“How do we stop dad?” asked Sam.

“One problem at a time, Sam,” you said. “Now buck up. We got a job to do still.”

“Where the hell is it?” asked Sam, both of you staring dumbfounded at Dean’s room.

“I don’t…” you said, the sound of a door opening downstairs shutting you both up.

“It’s me,” said Dean, holding up his hands as you went to the top of the stairs. He lowered them when he saw you cocking your head. “Dad’s not going to check his own house for me.”

“Go to my apartment,” you said. “Hide out there. It’s safer.”

“Any luck finding it?” asked Dean.

“No. He might have it on him still. Go now Dean. We’ll do one last check and meet you there,” you said. Dean was out of the house quickly, Sam sighing as he lay on Dean’s old bed. “Sammy, we should get going soon too.”

“We both know Dad was after me. You could walk away from this,” said Sam, sitting up with a short smile. “Just go and be safe from our crap.”

“Sam,” you said, grabbing his hand, pulling him to his feet. “I got crap too. I’m not leaving my boys.”

“Do you have a father that murdered your mother? Tried to murder you?” asked Sam with a scoff.

“Actually, yeah,” you said. Sam blinked down at you, shaking his head. “Not the time or place but yes Sam. I understand. Now let’s go.”

Sam was quiet the whole way back to your apartment, Dean poking his head out from your bedroom with a tiny wave when you got there.

“Your apartment’s nice,” said Dean.

“You climb up the fire escape?” you asked. Dean nodded, Sam going straight for your liquor cabinet and pulling out a bottle. “Easy Sammy. We’re still on red alert.”

“Did she tell you her dad’s a psycho too?” said Sam, Dean pursing his lips.

“A while ago, yeah,” said Dean. “I told you mom was your fault to keep you away. I told her the same thing pretty much.”

“Only difference is…” you said, reaching for the bottle, keeping it away from Sam.

“You don’t have to tell this story, Y/N,” said Dean.

“It’s Sam,” you said with a smile. “It’s okay.”

“So what did happen?” asked Sam, hopping up on your counter, watching you slide into a barstool, Dean doing the same.

“My dad just snapped one day. We never saw it coming. He brought us down to the basement, killed her, tried to kill me and...I killed him before he got the chance,” you said.

“You...you killed him?” asked Sam.

“I might have been just a kid but a gun’s a gun,” you said. “It was self-defense but...shit stays with you.”

“But you seem so...normal,” said Sam.

“I wasn’t going to let that asshole ruin my life,” you said. “You guys aren’t going to let your dad ruin yours either.”

“Sammy, get some rest,” said Dean, stealing his undrunk glass away.

“Dean,” he said, Dean pouring the alcohol back in the bottle, putting it on the shelf. “Dean.”

“No booze from anybody. We got to be sharp and that means rest. You two have barely slept in days,” said Dean, grabbing Sam by the arm and tugging him over to your couch.

“Seriously? Now you’re going big brother on me?” asked Sam.

“Yup,” said Dean, pushing Sam down on the couch, pulling off his shoes and tossing them by the front door. He grabbed a blanket from nearby, threw it over Sam and moved one of your kitchen chairs behind your door.

“Dean, come on, I’m-”

“Sleep, Sammy,” said Dean, ruffling his hair, shutting off the light. “Come on, Y/N. Your turn.”

“Night, Sam,” you said, walking down the hall to your room, Dean smiling at you. “I don’t need to get tucked into bed.”

“I was hoping you’d let me crash in here with you. I haven’t slept on a mattress in over a week,” he said.

“Yeah,” you said, patting his old side of the bed before you moved around, shredding your clothes and throwing on your pajama shirt, Dean cocking his head when you spun around to find him in his boxers and shirt. “What?”

“Is that mine?” he asked.

“Your shirts were always comfy,” you said, crawling into bed, Dean laying on top of the covers. “Dude, get under.”

“Is that appropriate?” he asked.

“We used to have sex. All the time. We can sleep under the same covers, Dean,” you said. He shifted around until he was underneath, his leg brushing up against yours as he chuckled. He moved his foot on top of yours.

“Your feet are still freezing,” he said.

“Some things didn’t change,” you said. He nodded and pulled his foot away, sliding to the edge of the bed, turning his back to you. “I forgive you.”

“What?” he said, turning onto his back, twisting his head to face yours.

“I forgive you. For what you said. For what you did. I understand and I forgive you,” you said.

“I don’t accept,” said Dean, your hand catching his arm. “I’ll never forgive myself for destroying your lives.”

“If you’d never joined the FBI, Sam and I wouldn’t have done what we did. Your dad would have gotten away with what he did and maybe one day you’d wake up with Sam gone and your dad having pinned it all on you. What would we have done then?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” said Dean, staring up at the ceiling, quiet for a long time before he spoke again. “Why do you always have to do that? Make me feel better when I just want to feel like shit?”

“It’s a skill,” you said, finding his hand and interlacing your fingers with his. “This morning, before Jack showed up...I wanted to talk to you...about us.”

“What about us?” he asked, not bothering to look at you.

“Did you maybe want to try again?” you asked.

“You know the answer to that,” said Dean.

“I asked what you want,” you said.

“I told you,” he said.

“No you didn’t,” you said.

“I am not the same person I was,” he said.

“Neither am I,” you said.

“You don’t know me,” he said.

“Deep down I do,” you said.

“Do you have any idea how screwed up I am? I’m not normal anymore,” he said.

“When have any of us ever been normal? We fit because we aren’t normal. I can deal with your crap. You can deal with mine,” you said.

“I can’t protect you,” he said.

“It’s not your job,” you said.

“Yes, it is,” he said, finally twisting his head around. “No one ever protected you.”

“No one protected you,” you said. “Are we going to do this all night, Dean? I get it. You’re different. But why did you come to me in the first place? You trusted me. If you’re going to protect me, I’m going to protect you.”

“Jack’s dying in a hospital bed. Sammy’s on his hit list. You might be next. Sam was right. I never should have brought you into this,” said Dean, swallowing thickly. “Leave and be safe. I’ll take care of Sam. We’ll find a way to catch dad. It’s not your fight, Y/N.”

You flung yourself out of bed and went to your closet, Dean sitting up, probably half-hoping you were packing up a bag and leaving. Instead you pulled out a box you’d debated throwing away half a dozen times but never could. You tore off the lid, pulling out the envelope and letter on top, tossing them over at Dean.

“Do you remember that?” you asked, Dean squinting his eyes in the dim light.

“Where did you find this?” he asked, shoving the letter back in the envelope, handing it back over.

“You packed up so quickly you forgot about that,” you said, putting the letter back in its place. “I didn’t find it until a few months later when I moved out. It was behind your dresser.”

“It’s just a letter, Y/N,” said Dean.

“No. It’s not,” you said. “Why would you write a letter like that and hide it from me? You were never good at the big romantic speeches, that’s why. You had to write it down, cross things out, make it perfect until you had it memorized and could pull it out when you finally got up the courage to ask.”

“It’s been four years,” he said. “People change.”

“I bet you could recite it word for word right now,” you said.

“I’m not-”

“You were in love with me. You wanted to marry me. You wrote a damn speech, Dean. You’re right, it’s been years. All I am asking, all I want to know right now, is if you want to start over. Do you want to try and be happy again?” you asked.

He was rigid, eyes focused on his lap but the smallest nod of his head made you crawl back into bed with him.

“Alright,” you said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you. He was like putty, the tension out of his body once and for all, his head resting on your pillow, nose brushed against yours.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I know, baby,” you said, Dean wincing like the name burned him. “It’ll be okay.”

“We need to sleep,” he said, nuzzling his body closer to yours like he could hide away in it.

“Go ahead. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Except when you woke up about six hours later, Dean was shaking you awake, hands covered in blood.

“Y/N,” said Dean, voice trembling. “S-Sammy…”

You shot out of bed, Sam taking ragged breaths on your blood covered couch.

“C-Call the police,” said Dean, shoving your cell phone in your hands. “G-Get him s-safe.”

“What-”

“I heard, I thought S-Sammy was up, so I got up to check and I saw...it had to be dad. T-Through the fire escape. He took off,” said Dean, throwing on his clothes. “I gotta run. I gotta...I gotta stop dad. No matter what. I gotta stop him.”

“Dean,” you said, watching as he ran over to Sam, running a hand over his head.

“You’re gonna be okay, Sammy,” said Dean. “Nothing bad is going to happen.”

“You t-think I’m gonna d-die or something,” coughed out Sam with a smile. “Go. Y/N’s g-got this. You just stop…”

“I will,” said Dean. “Y/N. Watch your fucking back until I end this once and for all.”

“Dean. If you kill...you’re giving him what he wants…” you said.

“I’ll catch him. Call an ambulance. Now. I’ll...I’ll call you when I got him cornered.”

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A/N: Read Part 8 here!

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #au #spn fanfiction #series

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greekowl87 · 5 years

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Fic: It’s Cold Outside

This is my fic for the X-Files Easter Fic Exchange (@xfilesfanficexchange). My prompt was for slippinmickeys over on AO3. This is cross-posted with AO3.

The prompt was: “Mulder gets stuck at Maggie Scully's for the weekend during a Scully family holiday (any holiday). UST becomes RST and drama ensues. Seasons 1-7. No PWP, need story.” So this is set during season three and is inspired by The Blizzard of 1996 (January 6 -10) was an actual event that took place. I myself was nine and remember being miserable, sick and losing power for 3 days during the course of it while living in Virginia but took it as inspiration for this fic.

A quick thank you for @peacenik0 and @baronessblixen talking me through some writer’s block with this fic. Mind you, it’s long. Also, there’s some smut in this: just a head’s up. I hope you all enjoy.

P.S. @today-in-fic

Friday, January 5, 1996

“Mulder, you don’t have to do this.” Scully gathered her coat and briefcase for the weekend as Mulder donned his own trench coat and car keys. “I’m just taking the bus home and then driving to my mother’s for the weekend in the morning.”

“It would make me feel better, Scully. I don’t know if you saw the forecast for the weekend but they are calling for a big Nor’easter. Anyways, what’s so special about your mom’s this weekend?”

“A belated celebration of Christmas,” she told him with a smile. “Ever since dad and with Missy just a few months ago, mom’s had a hankering to get the family together. A belated Christmas seemed like the answer. My brothers Bill and Charlie are coming with their wives. Bill’s ship just got into Norfolk two days ago and is already up in Baltimore with Tara. Charlie is coming down from Pennsylvania.”

Mulder felt his heart drop in his chest at the mention of the recent murder of Melissa Scully. His partner had told him multiple times that she did not blame him; the dangers came with their work. But deep down, Mulder still felt guilt himself. He was only more determined to make things right for her, even if it was as simple as driving to her mother’s for a makeup Christmas holiday in early January.

“Really, Scully, it’s no big deal. I can drive you first thing tomorrow morning to Baltimore.”

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“You know the answer to that.”

His smile must have melted her resolve as Scully smiled. “Fine. Tomorrow morning at ten, okay?”

“Okay.” He grinned.

. . . . . . . . .

Saturday, January 6, 1996

Scully glanced at her wall clock as it read 10:08 as she heard a knock at the door. Her weekend bag sat next to the door along with her freshly dug out snow boots and winter jacket. She had been watching the local news and now The Weather Channel. Mulder’s warning the previous day about an upcoming nor’easter had sparked her interest however her attention was once again distracted by the knocking again.

“It’s open,” she called.

The brass doorknob opened and she saw her partner wearing a leather jacket, jeans, and black turtleneck. He smiled at her awkwardly. “Ready to go, Scully?”

“You know you can come in, Mulder.”

She turned off the television and cast the remote onto the wooden coffee table. She saw him sidestep the welcome mat and inch around her entryway before shutting the door. He held his gaze at the fixed point in the floor before forcing a smile. “I do. I see you got your snow boots.”

“Yep. Finally got a chance to see the forecast. Might as well be prepared.”

Scully was already pulling on her jacket and then her shoes. “You really didn’t have to do this, Mulder.”

“I want to, Scully.”

He picked up her bag, loaded her bag into his backseat, and began the journey up to Maryland. The drive was quiet between them with a little conversation with the exception of small talk about the Scully family plans. As Mulder pulled up to the familiar driveway, he threw the car into park and looked at Scully. “Here’s your stop,” he said.

Scully gave him a thankful smile and nodded towards the porch. “Why don’t you come in before you head back to Alexandria?”

“I couldn’t impose, Scully.”

The last time he had been to Mrs. Scully’s house was shortly after his partner’s abduction when he had to swallow his pride and failure and let her know that her baby daughter had disappeared into thin air. He only saw himself as an omen of ill news for the Scullys. The most recent stigma was the death of Melissa Scully and him keeping Scully away due to their crazy crusade. The prospect of visiting her again under such circumstances wasn’t very appealing to him.

“Come on, Mulder. At least take a bathroom break and get a drink of coffee?” Her teasing smile made him relax slightly.’ “Come on, Mulder. My family isn’t going to crucify you.”

“The wrong holiday,” he joked. It fell on deaf ears. “I couldn’t impose, Scully. Really.”

“You can at least get some coffee before hitting the road,” she encouraged. “My mom wouldn’t mind.”

“You aren’t going to take no for an answer are you?”

“Sound familiar? Why don’t you just put yourself out of your misery and come in.”

“Fine,” he grumbled.

They both exited the car and Mulder went to grab her weekend bag from the trunk of his car. Together, they went up to the steps to the Scully household. His partner grabbed the brass doorknob and swung the door open wide. “Mom! I’m here!”

“Is that little Dana?” A playful voice echoed from the kitchen. “Still believing in Santa Claus?”

“Charlie!”

Mulder stood awkwardly by the doorframe, unsure if he should close the door behind him and stay or if he should run away. He saw a much taller man, about his height with dark auburn hair and blue eyes like his partner wearing a Penn State sweatshirt and jeans. Scully ran to her brother, throwing her arms around her youngest brother as he spun her in a circle. “It’s been too long, Dana! Mom, Dana’s here!”

Mulder stood straighter as he saw the matronly Mrs. Scully come from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a yellow apron. “No traffic I hope?”

“No,” Scully answered.

“Good. The weather forecast is calling for snow tonight and I hated the thought of you driving in this weather.”

“Mulder drove me,” Scully said, turning to gesture to him.

Mulder would have preferred to have fallen into a hole in the ground on the way to China than face the Scully matriarch. “Fox,” she greeted coolly.

“Mrs. Scully.”

Charlie turned to Mulder and smiled warmly. “So your Dana’s FBI partner. What kind of name is Fox anyways?”

To Mulder’s surprise, the youngest Scully offered a welcoming handshake which he returned hesitantly. “My parents probably hated me. I prefer Mulder anyways.”

“FBI thing?”

“Something like that. I’m going to go, Scully. I’ll see you back at the office on Monday.”

Scully narrowed her eyes in annoyance and nudged her mother. “I was going to invite Mulder to some coffee before he goes back. He was nice enough to drive me.”

“Of course.” Like magic, Mrs. Scully’s face materialized into the welcoming host that used to make her the talk of all the housewives of the San Diego Naval Base. “Take off your jacket and shoes, Fox. Stay awhile. You take your coffee black right?”

“That’d be fine.”

Mulder was already taking off his shoes and jacket as Charlie said something about finding Bill and Tara from upstairs. Soon, Mulder found himself standing in the atrium alone with Scully. She gave him a smile small. “Thank you for staying for a bit.”

“You didn’t give me much of a choice.”

“I appreciate it regardless. Come on, let’s get you that cup of coffee.”

He was powerless to say no to her and followed her like an obedient puppy. Mrs. Scully was smiling and getting coffee, trying to make small talk with the two FBI agents. Charlie soon came back with a man and a woman which Mulder could only assume was Big Brother Bill and his wife Tara. He felt himself shrink under the steely gaze as Scully greeted the rest of her family. Mulder took a deep breath and held out his hand. “Fox Mulder.”

“Mr. Mulder,” Bill said carefully.

He had the sneaking suspicion he was being appraised. The blond hair woman, Tara, rushed forward to shake his hand as well. “It is so nice to meet you, Mr. Mulder. Dana has told us so much about you.”

“You can call me Mulder.” Mulder raised his eyebrow playfully at Scully. “Is that so?”

Charlie was by the fridge grabbing a beer out. “Don’t worry, Mulder. If you stick around long enough, you’ll hear some embarrassing stories about little Dana.”

As the afternoon progressed, the snow became heavier and showed no signs of letting up. By seven that evening, Mulder still found himself in the Scully household recovering from a wonderful dinner over embarrassing stories in front of a Christmas tree and the Scully clan. How had time escaped him was beyond Mulder’s grasp; he should open an x-file on it. By ten in the evening, he decided it was time to call it a night.

“Mrs. Scully, as much as I would love to stay, I must get going. The drive back to Alexandria is bound to belong.”

“You can’t be serious, Mulder!” Charlie cried. “All that snow!”

“It’s not safe,” Bill added as his wife yawned. She leaned against his shoulder sleepily. “You ready to hit the hay, hon?”

“Yeah. Traveling must’ve taken it out of me yesterday.”

“Why don’t you get going to bed. I’ll be right up.”

“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Mulder,” Tara said getting up. “Good night, everyone.”

A chorus of good nights and good evenings followed her out of the room. Scully looked at Mulder and bit her lip in thought. Mulder sensed something from her but did not say anything. “Why doesn’t he crash on the couch tonight, mom? Hopefully, the main roads will be plowed by tomorrow?”

Mrs. Scully nodded in agreement. “I’ll go get some blankets and pillows for you, Fox.”

Mulder had not even had a chance to say anything as Scully brothers said goodnight quickly and retreated back upstairs to their respective bedrooms. Mulder and Scully were left together alone in the living room. “What just happened?”

“Sleepover,” Scully chuckled.

“You weren’t planning this, were you?”

“No.” She lowered her voice and brought her knees to her chest. “Unless I suddenly gained control of the weather.”

“Knock it off, Scully.”

“I’m just teasing. But my brothers are right. It’s not safe to drive. I’m not up to saving your butt again.” They shared a knowing smile. “Besides, I was happy to have you here tonight.”

“How come?”

“It made things more...bearable tonight.” Without another word, she rose from the couch. “Good night, Mulder.”

“Night, Scully.”

Like ships passing in the sea, he watched Scully glide upstairs for the night as Mrs. Scully let her motherly instinct take over and make Mulder’s temporary bed for the night. He suddenly remembered the spare bag of clothes he kept in his car and rushed outside to grab it real quick before the snow grew any worse.

. . . . . . . .

Sunday, January 7, 1996

The meteorologists, both locally and nationally, metrologists were already calling it The Great Blizzard of 1996. When Mulder and the Scully family had retired for the night, Mother Nature had other plans. There was already almost a foot of snow before it transitioned to sleet, icing in the layers and locking them away. The storm came back with colder temperatures and even heavier bands of snow. Snow, ice, and more snow. And with that, Mulder found himself trapped in Baltimore for the Scully’s makeup Christmas. Unwanted guest indeed.

Mulder found himself waking up in the early morning hours. He could hear the winds battering the side of the house, snow, and ice pelting the windows, and the colorful glow of the Christmas tree dancing around the living room. He did not know what he was doing.

Sleep just didn’t happen for Mulder anymore. After many years of isolation and peculiarness had molded him into a couch dozing insomniac that slept with the tv on. Maybe, deep in his own mind and subconscious, he was still trying to bring back Samantha by somehow recreating that night from November 1973. It seemed awfully true now as the Scully clan tried to recreate the memory of their lost kin.

“Can’t sleep?”

Mulder jumped and spun around. Scully stood in the door frame as the shadows clung to her. Her robe was wrapped tightly around her, her arms weaved into a knot as if trying to protect her against something. She gazed longingly at the multicolored Christmas tree and then to stockings on the old fireplace. “And the stockings were hung on the chimney with care with hopes that St. Nicholas would soon be here,” Scully recited softly. She cleared her throat. “I see Mom is keeping Missy’s up.”

Mulder turned to the stockings counting them quickly. “I count seven.”

“Mom still keeps dad’s up.” She gave a sad smile. “Christmas was a favorite holiday growing up for us. The last time we were all together was the December before I went to the academy.”

Mulder scooted over on the couch as Scully sat next to him. “What a turn of events, huh, Scully?”

“Hmm?”

Mulder gestured to the window as white snow blinded the outside. “Weather. Mother nature. The inconvenience of timing.”

“It depends on the way you look at it, Mulder.”

“I’m probably ruining your little family get-together. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your mother’s scalding gaze.” Self-deprecating humor at its finest. Another mechanism. “I don’t know if I should be alarmed or not.”

“Mulder,” she sighed. She pinched her nose and gave a weak smile. “She’s not mad at you.”

“I’m sure they’re just waiting and plotting. I would know.”

Scully tilted her head to the side and gave him a warm smile. She moved closer to him and rubbed her against his left shoulder smoothing the cotton beneath her palm. “I did it so I could save you. You were out of your mind,” she whispered softly. Even beneath that fabric, she could still feel the puckered scar. “I saved you, didn’t I?”

He chuckled. “Does your mother know what you did?”

“No. And neither do my brothers.”

She smiled in the light and moved closer to Mulder. He stilled as she reached for a stray blanket to pull it over her lap and rest her head against his shoulder. “What are you thinking,” he whispered.

“Those lights and decorations. I think my mom used the last time when we were all together. The last Christmas. It was right before I left for the academy.” She smiled at the memory. “It’s funny because Missy and I were sitting on this very couch, watching those colored lights. I had just been recruited into the FBI and I remember feeling uncertain.”

“You’re never uncertain about anything.”

There was a pause between them and Scully continued to stare off into the distance. “She told me that…” She took a breath. “She told me don’t mistake a path for what it really represents: the people that we meet along the way. I didn’t know who I was going to meet, how my life was going to change, or whose life I would change along the way.”

Overwhelming guilt wrecked his heart (as if the guilt from Melissa Scully’s death, Scully’s abduction, and the disappearance from his own sister weren’t enough). The silence that ensued must have been enough for Scully to grasp his hand tightly, startling him out of dismal, gloomy thoughts. “Mulder, don’t think that.”

“It’s because of me,” he murmured, “that all this happened to you.”

“Didn’t you hear me? It is a two-way street. With the bad, there has also been good. These three years, I wouldn’t change. I wouldn’t want this journey with anyone else but you.”

Unable to find words he settled for the thing that had worked best for them: unspoken communication. He wrapped his arm around her in a hug. Scully settled her head back against his shoulder in silence. The moment seemed trapped in a bubble that was only meant for the two of them. “I am incredibly grateful you are here with me now, Mulder, even if it doesn’t feel like it.” She took a deep breath and kissed his temple softly. “Thank you.”

Like a shadow in the night, she quickly retreated leaving a very confused Mulder alone on the couch to wonder exactly what had transpired at that moment.

As the early morning crawled on, the Christmas lights turned off from the automatic timer leaving Mulder in the dark. He did not remember when he dozed off but awoke a few hours later to the smell of coffee being brewed and laughter in the room next door. “Charles, I do not recall that Christmas.”

The voice of Mrs. Scully laughed as there as a masculine snorting of giggles. “Oh shut up, Bill.”

That must be Charlie, she surmised.

Mulder stretched his aching body against the stiff couch, wincing at some unknown muscle cramp. The air was chilled in the living room and he spied a smoldering fireplace in need of fresh wood. Mulder got up to stoke the fire before searching for his Oxford sweatshirt to ward off the chill. His foggy mind, already going through the things that he needed to do the first thing to get back to Alexandria. He’d need to get gas, make sure he had a shovel or something in his car for the snow.

“Mulder.”

He looked up to see Scully standing in the doorway wearing her white fluffy robe and her hair clipped back into a loose bun. She held up a steaming cup of coffee enticingly. “Morning,” he croaked. He gave her a weak smile and tried to comb his bedhead. Scully shook her head and hid her amused smile behind her hand and a fake yawn. “How did you sleep?”

“I slept.” She shrugged and dropped off the coffee onto a side table. “Come join us for breakfast when you’re ready.”

“I think I’ll just get going this morning back to Alexandria.”

Scully smirked and nodded to a window. “I doubt that, Mulder. The snow turned over to sleet and then back to snow overnight. The news is saying at least nine inches.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. Come on, let’s get breakfast.”

“Scully, I really can’t impose. I have already done enough damage here.”

“Mulder,” she said calmly. She took his hand and squeezed it. “It’s okay. My family isn’t planning to burn you at the stake or anything.” He was taken back by the openness of the invitation. She watched his emotions play across his face and arched her elegant eyebrow. “Is it what we do? Our work? My abduction? What, Mulder?”

“How do you openly invite me here? Expect that your brothers and mothers won’t flail me alive?”

She chuckled and shook her head. “My brothers know we solve unusual cases for the FBI, the cold cases that others won’t touch. They don’t know anything about government conspiracies or anything like that. As long as you don’t say about green little men.”

“They’re gray,” he whispered.

“Green. Gray. I still have yet to scientifically prove it.”

In the span of a few seconds, the platonic partners were decidedly close to one another. Electricity sparked between the air and the strange feeling shifted between them again. Mulder licked his lips as the stray thought of kissing Scully popped up in his mind. Scully was leaning towards him, as if in a trance, before Mrs. Scully’s voice called from the kitchen. “Dana! Fox! If you don’t get in here soon, all these pancakes will be gone.”

With the spell broken, both Mulder and Scully blinked. “Pancakes,” Mulder asked.

“Scully family Christmas tradition. I told you mom is going all out even though it is January. It’s been forever since we’ve had a proper Christmas.” She glanced at the two stockings meant for her passed father and murdered sister. “Even if some of us couldn’t be here.” Mulder opened his mouth to apologize but Scully cut him off. “But I’m very happy you are here with me, Mulder. I really mean it.”

He nodded unable to find anything else to say. Mulder followed her into the kitchen to find Mrs. Scully standing with Charlie by the electric griddle skillfully making pancakes like an assembly line. Bill and Tara sat at the kitchen table reading the copy of The Washington Post from the day before. On the corner of the counter, a small black and white tv had the local news on.

“Boy, oh, boy!” Cried the news anchor. “What was supposed to be a few snow flurries has turned into a full-blow blizzard. Chase, what can you tell us about this storm?”

The camera panned to another man wearing a suit in front of a local weather map colored in various shades of gray, black, and white. “You are right, Craig. I wouldn't dare go out this weather. Last night, we were only looking at a couple of inches of snow and now the forecast is calling for totals up to 20 inches plus. Also, overnight, the snow briefly changed to sleet and then back to snow. Don’t even think about going out in this weather! It’s best to stay hunkered down until this storm passes through tomorrow morning. The drive-in is going to be a mess well so plan accordingly.”

“That’s one thing I don’t miss is snow,” Bill grumbled flipping the paper.

“I forgot,” Charlie called. “Sunny San Diego.”

“And you choose to live in the great white north,” the brother shot back.

“Maine is not the great white north. You’re thinking of Minnesota.”

“I would argue differently. I grew up in Massachusetts and have some memories of nasty winters.”

Mulder stood in the middle of the kitchen, unsure where to go. Scully squeezed his hand discreetly and pulled him to a stool near the kitchen counter where she sat next to him.

“Where exactly did you grow up, Mr. Mulder?” Bill asked.

“The Vineyard,” he answered automatically. Charlie winked at him as he supplied Mulder and his sister coffee. He turned his attention to the small black and white television. “I can try and dig out later this morning, Mrs. Scully once the snow lets up and be out of your hair.”

“Nonsense, Fox. You are not driving back to Virginia in this weather. We’ve already gotten 13 inches and were forecasted to get 10 more. What’s one more mouth to feed.” She looked up and gave him a smile. Mulder did not know how to respond. “If you really want, you can help shovel my driveway.”

Scully smiled. “I tried to tell him that but I told you he is thick-headed.”

“He’s not the only one, Dana.”

“Hey, do you remember when we were in New Haven?” Charlie asked.

“As if you remember,” Bill snorted. “You were three.”

“How can anyone forget the Christmas tree being set on fire? It was clearly your fault. If I recall, I heard something about you trying to ‘light Christmas spirit.’”

“Even I remember it.” Scully grinned.

Mrs. Scully rolled her eyes. “Well, since we have a proper blizzard, why don’t we all just take it easy today. We can all take turns shoveling the driveway to make it more authentic.”

Mulder was about to say something else but Scully’s stern glare made him reconsider. “I think three men can manage that, mom,” Charlie chuckled. “So what does us leaving to do in the meantime?”

“Movies?” Tara suggested.

“Oh, AMC is doing a B-Rated Horror Film Marathon this weekend,” Charlie said excitedly. “That would be awesome.”

“Sounds right up your alley.” Scully elbowed Mulder.

He shifted stiffly and wondered just how much she had told her brothers about him and his far fetched theories. “You all can do that,” Bill shrugged. He remained focused on the paper. “There are some of dad’s things I would like to go through this afternoon.”

“Fun killer,” Charlie called as he skillfully flipped the next batch of pancakes. “Tara? What about you?”

“I would love to. That used to be a favorite thing to do with my sisters.”

“Honestly, Tara,” Bill scoffed. “We don’t have time for such childish things.”

“Shut up, Bill. We’re supposed to be celebrating Christmas, right? Staying in our PJs all day and watching tv was something we did in our family.”

“Ours was nothing but midnight masses,” Charlie added.

“Well, we can always improvise, “ Mrs. Scully answered, “but I doubt that would be any fun.”

“Then it’s settled.” Scully smiled but frowned when she saw Mulder focusing on some unknown spot in front of him. She frowned in frustration.

Breakfast continued without a hitch. Mulder withdrew into himself even further feeling alienated among the Scully clan. He felt trapped. He could take the chance and risk his car on the roads but Scully would save his ass and then kill him for his stupidity. A rouge hand took his own and squeezed it beneath the table top was all he needed to force the smile and endure this bizarre family holiday a bit longer.

The day seemed to be stuck in some sort of time zone because Mulder felt like he was experiencing deja vu. The last time he had experienced Christmas joy, any Christmas joy was the Christmas before Samantha’s abduction. The Mulder's had been a happy family then. But now, he somehow found himself swept along in marathons of horror films with Charlie, Bill’s polite decline to participate, and Tara, Scully, and her mother in the kitchen working on a makeshift dinner. The blizzard of 1996 continued on in spectacular fashion bringing more snow and ice.

At the end of the day, Mulder still found himself trapped with the Scullys with no means of escape.

That night, Mulder heard the grandfather clock in the hallway strike midnight, echoing throughout the silent house. He wished he was somewhere else.

In his makeshift bed on the living room couch, he still could not find a comfortable position. The blue light from the muted tv added to the eerie ambiance from the colored Christmas tree lights. It was nights like this he would call Scully just to hear her voice and his loneliness less palatable. But she was right upstairs and he did not think that he family (especially Big Brother Bill who had regarded him cautiously since his arrival) would take to it very kindly. Lost in his thoughts, he heard the silent scuffle of slippers against the wood floor.

“Still can’t sleep?”

He smiled, recognizing that voice from anywhere. “Could you?”

“I suppose not. Today wasn’t as awkward as you thought it would be, was it?”

“I wasn’t worried.”

“You wore you panic face throughout most of breakfast.”

Scully emerged from the shadows. Elegant no matter what, Mulder thought. His partner wore the same robe from the morning before except her hair was down. “You being here I think is helping mom too. The distraction is nice since Missy is no longer here. The first Christmas after dad passed it was a nightmare.”

“I’m glad I’m not too much of a burden.”

“You are never a burden, Mulder.”

He smiled coyly at her. “You know, it’s funny, Scully. I know the special agent but I don’t know the story behind Dana Scully.”

She chewed on her lips playfully and held out her hand. “Want to see?” Just in the past 48 hours, this new side of Scully that was emerging that he wanted to know more of. Playing her game, he grasped her hand and she lead him down the hall and upstair case. “Watch the second step from the top. It always makes a noise.”

Following her expert direction, they navigated the maze in the dark. Scully led him to a door furthest down the hall. She opened the door to reveal a room frozen in time that belonged to some sort of punk rock teenager. Faded posters decorated the wall above the bed. A black bookcase held numerous copies of books ranging from physics to Latin to Nancy Drew. In the corner was a small desk with a bulletin board covered in various ribbons from science fairs and a University of Maryland flag above it. There was a picture on the bulletin board that looked vaguely familiar.

“Is that you?”

Mulder squinted as he picked up the photo as she shut the door behind them. “I was a bit of a punk.”

“And science wiz,” he added, nodding to the ribbons. “Little Dana Scully was a rebel.”

“Not always,” she said slowly, trying to hide back a laugh. “I did get suspended in my sophomore year for almost blowing up the chemistry lab trying to prove a senior wrong.”

“You took chemistry as a sophomore?”

“Science wiz,” she reminded him. She sat on the bed and patted the space next to her. “I know I’ve told you numerous times but I’m really glad you are here. It’s nice having someone to…” She shrugged. “I’m just glad you’re here, Mulder.”

He took the spot next to him. “I guess we should thank fate.”

She snorted in amusement. “I told you there is no such thing as fate.”

“This blizzard.”

“Convenient timing.”

He leaned closer into her personal space like he did when they were ready to verbally spare. She smiled and shook her head. Something must have shifted between them at that moment. Maybe it was the wintry atmosphere or some random static charge from the dry air, but he leaned forward, and almost teasingly, kissed her. A catalyst exploded between them. He expected her to pull away but she didn’t.

She deepened it.

Rational thought became lost and pure instinct took over. He cupped her face and held it for a moment longer. By the time they broke away to draw breath, words were pouring from his lips. “Scully, I’m sorry. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to…”

The flood of apologies was stopped by a single order.

“Stop.”

He closed his mouth obediently. Her eyes had narrowed and she looked feral.

“There is nothing you should be sorry for. You...you are a good man, a good friend, Mulder…” Scully swallowed, already losing her courage. “And nothing would change between us.”

“Maybe I want them to change.”

Scully arched an eyebrow suspiciously.

Mulder did not know the exact moment he fell in love with her but the past two years and her abduction only made it worse for him. During her absence, he did not know how close he was to pulling that trigger and blowing out his brains. He never had such thoughts during the years after Samantha’s appearance but without Scully, life seemed worthless. But this moment...oh how he wished for this moment since he had laid eyes on her again.

“Change?”

“I wanted this,” he confessed, “for a very long time.”

“Mulder.”

“I understand if I have overstepped my bounds.”

He was panicking. This was falling apart, everything was becoming a slow-motion horrific accident. Thoughts of a ruined partnership, their work, being alone. He began to pull away. He needed to run. To escape.

“Mulder. Mulder!”

Her voice called out to him like a lifeline. He looked down as Scully took his hand and pulled him back down beside her. “I don’t want to ruin what we already have.”

“You won’t.”

Her hand rubbed his thigh enticingly and Mulder closed his eyes with flushed cheeks. It had been so long since someone had touched him like that. He heard the locking of a door and he knew then, he couldn’t escape. Her hands rested on his shoulders and trailed down his arms. Her chin rested on his shoulder as she hugged him from behind. “Despite me being a bit of a rebel in high school, most boys never made it this far. You’re the first,” she teased.

“First what?” Mulder breathed.

Once again during the past 48 hours, he was surprised at this side of Scully. Or was this Dana? “Mulder, don’t make me scientifically prove the nature of the whammy.”

He burst out laughing as Scully met his lips sensually and he was gone. Gone was his resolve any fears. Her hands had a mind all their own. Mulder sighed in between kisses and let Scully take the lead. Like a dancer, she came around to the front and kneeled in front of him. Mulder smiled and ran his hands down Scully’s hips appreciatively. “Scully,” he murmured. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. However,” she licked her lips. “Charlie's is right next door. My mother, Bill, and Tara are right down the hall. We’ll have to be quiet.”

“Quiet,” he chuckled. He turned serious. “Scully, we can still avoid this if you want.”

“Mulder, let me tell you something,” she began, “there was always something between us, wasn’t there?”

“I'd like to think so.”

“I remember,” she continued, slipping off her robe, “after my abduction, visiting with my mom and Missy. You came in with that stupid video.” She chuckled at the memory. “I know you only stayed briefly but I was glad you came.”

“I called you. Sorry, but meeting your big sister kind of unnerved me.”

“Worse than Bill?” She bit back a grin.

“I don’t know. I think Charlie likes me, but Bill…”

“Firstborn are usually stubborn.” Mulder raised his eyebrow in mock horror. “You are my evidence. After you left, Missy stayed with me until the morning. We talked a lot. About life. You. Cosmic connections. Us.”

“She came to my apartment one night before I got your call that you were back. Someone told me I was going to be killed and at that point, I had nothing to live for. You were gone. Samantha…” Mulder scoffed. “You were real. You were always real and something I could save.”

“We’ll still find your sister.”

“At the loss of yours?”

She gave a weak smile and gently wrapped an arm around his neck. “That’s why I’m glad you’re here with me now, Mulder. You were there that night.”

“But you still couldn’t say goodbye.”

She sighed and drew him closer. “Is that what’s been bothering you the entire time being here? Deep down?” Mulder looked down and felt the atmosphere become suffocating. “Look at me. It’s not your fault, Mulder. What happened to Missy is not your fault. I don’t blame you.”

“What about your mother?”

“Don’t worry about her. Or Bill. Or Charlie.”

Mulder lowered his head. How did always do this to him? Make him weak in the knees and doubt everything he has ever known. She brought him closer. “She told me once that we were, and I quote, ‘Once in a lifetime.’”

“Who? Your sister?”

She nodded. “The first time I told her about you. I was complaining about how were stubborn you were and she told me that is was no different than me.”

Mulder gave a weak smile. His mind was melted at this point. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured this, Scully,” he whispered.

“Pictured what?”

“This.”

He pulled off her robe slowly and tossed it the ground. She shivered as the cold air hit her. Mulder saw the soft blue silk pajamas reflected in the soft light from the lamp. She blushed and whispered, “Lights on or off?”

“On,” he whispered reverently. “I want to see all of you.”

The first time he had a fantasy with her, Mulder had felt that he had committed the holiest of sins and paid with a bottle of tequila, a hangover, and a shiner on his eye that made Scully raise a suspicious eyebrow on the following Monday. But as much as he tried to fight it, he was powerless to do anything but give in. He was startled out of his thoughts as she ran her hand over him appreciatively and his body responded automatically. He let out a guttural moan; God, it had been too long since someone had touched him like that. “I’m just conducting a thorough investigation, Mulder,” she responded.

“I’m sure,” he swallowed, “but if you keep doing that, this won’t last long.”

“Well, we better get busy then.”

Mulder still could not believe this was happening. Blood rushed in his ears and he could hear the wind outside howled. Scully pulled Mulder’s shirt off first and gave a soft smile. He shivered himself as the cold air hit his skin. “Let’s get under the covers,” he whispered.

Her hands were distracting as they slipped beneath the small blanket of the double bed. He rolled to his side and slowly unbuttoned her top. Milky white skin slowly appeared and he touched her reverently slowly making his way up. When her first breast appeared, he knew she was a goddess fallen to earth. “Aphrodite, Venus,” he mumbled. He kissed her soundly and squeezed her breast slowly, trying to memorize everything. “A goddess come to life.”

Mulder grew bolder in his exploration moving his mouth to one breast and then the other, heaping worship upon her altar. She sighed breathily, raking her fingers through his hair, and leaned her head back. Mulder was already on fire but hearing her sigh “Mulder…” set him aflame.

Her arms wrapped around him and he felt her nails lightly scratch down his back. The cold and snow from the Blizzard of 1996 continued to rage outside. He could faintly hear little bits of snow and ice hitting the window glass but none of that mattered. For the first time in ages, he was alive and the icy loneliness that plagued his life had finally melted in her embrace. Time vanished and Mulder became a firm believer in missing time except, for this, he wanted his photographic memory to remember everything.

Mulder broke away from his adoration of Scully to look up and share a gaze with her. Her face was flushed as she smiled. “It’s been so long,” she whispered.

“Try to be quiet then,” he chuckled. He kissed her before disappearing the beneath the covers. His mind raced a thousand miles per hour and he didn’t know if he should take it slow or like a flash flood. He kissed her exposed abdomen, panting heavily. “What do you want?”

“I want to remember everything,” she breathed.

Mulder smiled and placed a series of kisses until he reached the waistband of her pants. She lifted her waist without command as he pulled them down. Mulder was intoxicated by both the scent of her and the thrill of the moment. Scully was already lifting her hips as he hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband and pulled downwards. If Mulder was a religious man, he would be proclaiming a miracle. A variety of dirty thoughts came to mind but one stuck out in particular. Overcome with lust and passion, he nuzzled her lower half, almost bashfully, nuzzled her. She jerked in response. He sought and took her hand, calming her in the process. She relaxed slightly and felt something move above him: a pillow.

“Scully?”

“Fine,” came the muffled reply. Mulder strained his ears trying to discern if she was uncomfortable or not. “I’m good, Mulder.”

The tone in her voice threw him off. Was she in pain? Or was it something else. He began to hesitate but he felt her fingers run through his hair reassuringly. It was enough for him to continue. He went back to his ministrations, testing out this and that, teasing her until he felt her writhing beneath him. Scully’s hips lifted and he heard her muffled cries. That explains the pillow, he thought, smiling.

Mulder eventually broke away and slid back up to greet Mulder with a kiss. He was smiling; she was smiling. “That was amazing,” she chuckled. “Do you think anyone heard us?”

“I hope not. A pillow, Scully? Really?”

“Shut up.” A devilish grin spread across her face. “Enough with the formalities, Mulder. Let’s get down to business.”

She reached into the drawer and pulled out a condemn. He raised an eyebrow with the unasked question. “It’s good. And I know we’re good…” She caressed his cheek. “Perks of also being your doctor.”

“Remind me to have you make house calls more often.”

With expertise he suspected that was from her medical education, Scully slipped on the condemn and rubbed him possessively. She smiled and whispered, “I want all of you.”

She tore off his shirt and sweats eagerly. Mulder lifted his hips and crushed her lips. Scully lifted her neck as he trailed a row of kisses down to shoulder where he bit into her shoulder blade, marking her. She lifted her hips meeting hip and let out a loud cry. She howled into her shoulder. “You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured into her ear.

“We have to be quiet,” she whispered. “The blizzard will only hide our...enjoyment for so long.”

“Well, I’m just getting started.

Something overcame both of them. Maybe it was desperateness, maybe it was the blizzard, maybe it was the moment. They both guided Mulder into her, working together as they did in everything.together. She sighed at the initial contact and moaned at the sudden fullness. “Oh, Mulder.”

He drew a sharp breath in. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, no.” She tried to relax. “It’s just been a while.”

“Me too.” He started moving slowly and she shifted beneath him. “Scully, if I’m hurting you…”

“You’re fine, Mulder. I just didn’t expect you to be so…”

“What?”

“There’s a lot of you to go around.” She chuckled at her own joke. “Everything feels wonderful.”

Mulder focused his effort into trying to please her, no one but her. He wanted to make her forget the shadow the death of a lost sister had caused her along with her mother’s shame and the scorching glare that her big brother had been plaguing them since their arrival.

She breathed sharply and whispered, “More.”

He redoubled his efforts. He entwined their hands like vines and pushed them above her head. He attacked her with new fever, swallowing her breathy moans and sighs with his rough kisses. Gone were the thoughts of being trapped in a snowstorm but rather whatever it was they created. Mulder tried to show Scully how much he cared for her, what she meant, and that he would do anything for her. Her ankles crossed behind his back and dug into his muscles, holding him her. Then he felt it. She was coming with a quick series of contractions that pulled him over with her. Mulder howled into her shoulder as he became spent and collapsed on top of her. She ran her hands up in down his bare back as he withdrew, tied off the condemn, and threw it a small trash can.

“So classy,” she sighed.

“Well, you’re not a cheap date, Scully.” He was already shivering as he dashed back to her bed and to the warmth. She coiled around him and smiled against his chest. “You are like a little heater.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, G-man.”

Mulder rolled to the side and used his long arm to turn off the lamp. She whispered something to him and although he probably misunderstood, he slid out of the cold air to open the blinds slightly before rushing back under the covers to the warmth they had created. They watched the snowfall in the streetlights together. He rolled onto his side and pulled Scully’s bare form against him. “This is something I could get used to,” he teased gently.

As they watched memorized, the blinding winds had lessened slightly and now just gentle snow fell. They could see the pristine streets covered in an eerie glow from the orange street lights. Scully pulled his arm tighter around her. “I’m glad you are here,” she murmured loudly enough so he could just hear her. “When mom asked, I tried to think of an excuse not to come. Missy’s shadow still hanging over this house. The bad whatever left from me not being there or the fact it should have been me. It should’ve been me, Mulder.”

“I’m sorry for Missy,” he whispered, “I really am. But I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you again. I can’t lose you again.”

“I know,” Scully whispered. “But with you being here, right now. Stuck in a snowstorm. Making love in my childhood home, despite the rebelliousness of it, I am grateful you are here. I am happy to have you here with me, Mulder. You make this bearable.”

He was quiet for a moment before he answered. His emotions spun like the snow outside before it settled one conclusion. He hugged her tightly, vowing to protect her and keep her happy no matter what. “No place where I would rather be,” he replied. He kissed the crook of her neck. “Sleep.”

With a final sigh of contentment, Scully let herself drift off finally as Mulder kept vigil and watched the falling snow.

. . . . . . . . .

Sunday, January 7, 1996

Because they were creating their own Christmas holiday in January and the snowstorm prevented Mrs. Scully from attending mass with her family, she decided the next thing: celebrate a January Christmas on a Sunday. Charlie was the first to wake up that morning at four a.m, somehow beating his mother’s habitual early rising. He had always been a light sleeper as a result of his father’s early morning revelries. He slipped downstairs to start the coffee first and noticed the rumpled blankets and absent guest on the couch. He raised an eyebrow before smirking. He and Dana had always been close growing up. Unlike their old siblings, only a year separated Dana and Charlie and the two often found themselves partners-in-crime covering for each other’s adolescent antics. He smirked as he sipped his morning coffee, already guessing what had transpired judging by Mulder’s empty couch. He supposed that he could still be a reliable accomplice to his sister.

At 4:30, with his coffee in hand, he twisted the doorknob gently and found it locked; a tell-tale sign Dana was up to something. He jiggled the handout a bit more before rasping lightly against the white wood door. “Dana,” he called out quietly. He eyed Bill’s room and his mothers. “Dae.”

There was movement on the other side. Some muffled exchange and cussing about the cold. The door opened the crack and he saw his sister’s narrowed blue eyes in the twilight light from the Christmas tree downstairs. “I thought I would give you a wake-up call before mom or Bill got up. And Mulder too.” He smelled the familiar scent of a good night spent with someone wafting off her. “And you may want to clean up?”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m the first one up, promise. And I won’t tell a soul. Take my coffee.”

“Not a word,” she breathed.

“See you in a bit.”

She shut the door soundly and Charlie bit back his laughter at the entire situation. Downstairs in the kitchen with only the stove light to keep him company, Dana emerged look fresh with Mulder trailing behind her like a puppy dog. Both avoided eye contact with him. Charlie stood at the kitchen counter, fighting a grin. “Coffee’s fresh. And I won’t tell a soul, promise.”

Mulder’s eyes shot up in alarm and glanced at Scully as some unspoken conversation occurred between them. She was pouring herself a cup. “Charlie already knows,” she moaned.

“How?’ Mulder asked.

“I’m not going to castrate you,” he shrugged. “Dae and I were partners in crime. We used to cover for each other when we would do more questionable things.”

“Like that library fire?” She asked.

“Once and they never caught me.”

“Don’t forget your big sister is an FBI agent.”

“Right. What are you gonna do? Arrest me, copper?”

Mulder watched the exchanged and wondered faintly if it would have been that way with Samantha. Charlie nodded towards Mulder. “He’s the best you’ve done.”

“I appreciate you have taken an interest in my taste of men,” she muttered. “Mulder, do you want anything?”

“I’m good, Scully.”

Charlie tilted his head. “Why do you call her that?”

“What?”

Mulder shifted uncomfortably.

“Why do you call her Scully?”

“Why not? She’s Scully,” Mulder answered. He shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s cute.”

“Charlie, remember I also know how to get away with murder if I wanted to,” Scully hissed. She blew on her cup of coffee. “And no one would be the wiser.”

“What else is new. If Missy could see you now.”

“You are bad enough by yourself.”

Mulder looked away at the mention of the Melissa Scully. Charlie took a cup of the cupboard and poured some coffee. He offered it to Mulder like an olive branch. “I don’t judge, Mulder. You’re good for my sister, despite what others may think.” The brother watched his eyes dart toward his sister. “I know about her abduction and everything else. You make her happy. I see it. I can hear about it every time we talk. You’re good for Dana. And that’s good enough for me. Even if you are sleeping with her.” Their silence was insinuating. “Oh, nice one, Dana. First time in mom’s house. In your childhood bed?”

“A needle between the toes with a small enough dosage to stop your heart,” she told Charlie ominously.

Her brother watched Mulder become at ease a bit and smiled. He took the cup of coffee. “I wouldn’t cross her, Charlie. She shot me once.”

“Dana’s all fire and no bite,” he replied.

Mulder glanced at Scully and pulled at his shirt to reveal a puckered bullet wound on his left shoulder. “Wanna bet?”

“No way.” Charlie bent closer to examine the wound. “Dana actually shot you?”

“To be fair, I was out of my mind. But your sister is good enough to perform surgery with a PPK and take it out with a field surgery kit in her apartment. I wouldn’t tease her.”

Charlie chuckled. “I have a scar on my arm from one our antics that never healed. Once she mars you, she owns you. Welcome to the club.”

The love-struck gaze between the two did not go unnoticed.

By six a.m., the rest of the Scully clan had awoken. Charlie watched the morning unfurl with delight. Dana was more reserved than usual. Mulder wouldn’t leave his sister's side. Bill had started mastering their father’s glare and directed towards Mulder. His sister-in-law and mother seemed ignorant. But Charlie also knew his mother.

Unlike Bill and Dana, he had followed a path similar to Melissa where he discovered his own way. After high school, he waited tables, eventually becoming a hotshot bartender in Philadelphia before finding a full-time job in marketing where he could utilize all the sale skills he had mastered throughout the year. He also learned how to read people. Mrs. Scully wanted to keep Mulder at a distance but she would not let her feelings disappointment show for Dana’s sake. By eight, there was a buffet of bacon, scrambled eggs, hash browns and biscuits and gravy. Everyone helped themselves to large portions (except Mulder and Dana who shared a plate). Dana made up an excuse about bad habits in the field. Charlie knew better.

By nine, there was the unofficial six o’clock Christmas roll call to be held fashionably late three hours later. Presents were exchanged and Bill’s glare seemed to grow. Halfway through the present exchange, Charlie excused himself to refill his coffee with Bill trailing his younger brother into the kitchen. “Are you helping me with the coffee now, Bill?”

Bill stalked behind Charlie and shut the door to the kitchen behind them. “Don’t you find it a little suspicious?”

The younger brother arched an eyebrow suspiciously as he poured a fresh coffee. “What are you talking about?’

“Dana and her partner.” Bill scrunched his face like a child at yucky food. “Mulder.”

“What about him?”

“Doesn’t this sit with as a bit odd or off?”

“What?”

“Them. What they’re doing.”

“You sound worse than dad. Dana is a grown woman. Let her do what she wants.”

“Haven’t you seen how he looks at her. There has to be more to it.”

“So what if there is, Bill? That is none of our business.”

“If dad could see Dana now, his little pride and joy, now. I knew the FBI was a bad idea. A boys club. I told you.”

“What are you trying to imply? That Dana should be at home and have a nice doctor for a husband?”

“Well, at least Melissa would be alive,” he spat.

“You don’t know that.”

Both brothers turned around to see their youngest sister’s eyes narrowed dangerously at her brothers. Charlie knew that scorching glare that she seemed to develop all her own. He looked away trying to find something that would occupy his time. “Charlie, stop hiding from me.”

“I didn’t say anything, Dana. You’re the one leaving Mulder alone with mom.”

“He’s a big boy and Tara seems to have taken quite a sign of affection to him.”

Her steely blue eyes zeroed in on Bill whose own look hardened in determination. “You know full well he doesn’t belong here, Dana. He’s already ruined this family enough. First with your abduction and then with Missy. Where does it end with him?”

“He had nothing to do with my abduction. And don't think I don’t know about who convinced mom to finally give up hope and get my headstone,” she hissed. “At least Mulder never gave up hope on me.”

“What was I supposed to do, Dana? Dad is gone and then, less than a year, you are too. How could you continue to put her through that? He was only making things worse.”

Scully slammed a coffee cup hard onto the counter with such force that she broke the handle off bashing her left hand. “Son of a bitch,” she hissed. She reached for a towel in order to stem the blood flow as Charlie looked down in alarm. “I hope you’re happy now.”

“Charlie? Bill? Dana? Is everything all right?” There mother’s voice came from the other room.

Bill watched his little sister continue to stare daggers at him. “Everything’s fine, mom,” Bill said. “Charlie and Dana were just cleaning up.”

Still aware of her smoldering gaze, he left without saying a word. Charlie looked at her impressed. “I think that’s the first time I have ever seen him shut up just be someone looking at him. FBI teach you that?”

“Sometimes we just learn that we are stronger than we give ourselves credit for,” she answered evasively. “Charlie, run to the first aid kit and grab it for me? I think it’s still under the sink.”

“Don’t you need stitches or something?”

“Probably but were we going to get that in this weather? Check the kitchen drawer. I think mom has some superglue in there.”

“You’re not serious, Dae.”

“If you can’t do it, go get Mulder then,” she snapped. She pulled back the towel to reveal a small gash going down her palm. “God forbid mom sees this.”

“I’m not the enemy.” He went to the kitchen drawer and began to search for the requested item. “Is it true that you actually shot, Mulder?”

“Yes.”

Scully was clearly distracted. She turned the sink on and ran warm water over the small gash. Charlie watched in amazement as his sister did not flinch as she cleaned the wound. She skillfully dressed the wound and thankfully did not need to glue the gash shut. He leaned against the counter as she took a deep breath to steady herself. “Dana?”

“I didn’t plan on this blizzard and I knew he wanted to leave. He’s been eyeing that exit since we came here. But I’m glad he’s here, Charlie. As fucked up it is sounds, he’s made this bearable for me.”

“Missy liked him, you know. She told me about him on the rare occasion we talked. I don’t what you all have going on and I don’t care what’s got Bill’s undies in a twist, he’s good for you, Dana.”

Scully motioned for her brother’s help and he tied off the bandage around her hand. “I’m glad to hear that,” she whispered. Scully flashed a smile. “I’m glad you get along with him.”

“He’s…” Charlie leaned against the counter, crossed his arm, and tried to find an answer. “He’s not what I expected from you, Dana.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Daniel? Marcus? What was that other guy’s name? Your FBI instructor…Jack?”

“Maybe I should have told Missy instead of you.”

“Oh, she told me everything as it was when I could get a hold of her.”

Scully grew quiet. “You miss her.”

“We all do,” she answered.

“Dana, Charlie, are you going to stay in the kitchen all morning?”

Their mother’s voice pulled them from the tension that surrounded them. Charlie motioned with his arm for Scully to reenter the living room. Big Brother Bill was discussing something with Tara. Mulder was talking to Maggie that caused her to laugh and try and hide it behind her hand. Bill glared at her partner and then directed his wrath towards Charlie.

“You certainly took your time,” the oldest brother stated. He narrowed his eyes as Mulder and then Scully. “What happened to your hand, Dana?”

“I must’ve cut it,” she said dismissively. Charlie sat next to his mother and Scully next to Mulder. “I’m okay, really.”

Mulder was staring at her the same way he did when he was on the edge of forming a theory. He gingerly lifted her bandaged hand for an inspection as her and Charlie’s gaze met. “Are you sure?” Mulder asked. Charlie could hear the pain in his voice. “Scully?”

“Fine, Mulder. I promise.”

“You need to be more careful, Dana,” their mother admonished. “Now, let’s continue where we left off.”

Charlie watched Dana smile and lean against Mulder’s shoulder. Bill cast a withering glare before picking up a wrapped present for Tara. If their mother suspected of something, she wisely kept silent and the peace.

At January 7th continued, so did the snow. Mrs. Scully continued to play hostess entertaining her children. They all tried to pass the time by watching endless movies on the television. There was a feeling of relative peace in the household. After dinner, Bill and Tara retired to bed early as did Charlie and Mrs. Scully. Something about the notion of endless snow made the household sleepy and go to bed early. Mulder and Scully were left downstairs on his makeshift living room bed watching the weather channel on television

Now that they were alone, Mulder was afraid of doing anything else that resembled what they had the night before in her bedroom. Now that they were alone, downstairs, he wondered what he was again doing here. Stuck in Baltimore. In the middle of a snowstorm. In her mother’s house. “So today was nice,” he started.

“Bill was such an ass,” she answered in a quiet voice. She lifted her bandaged hand to inspect it. “But Charlie seems to like you.”

“Does he know?” He took her bandaged hand and held in, resting it on his thigh. She arched an eyebrow as he suddenly pulled back. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Mulder.” She played with his long fingers. “Last night wasn’t a mistake. I wanted it just as much as you.”

“But do you view it as a mistake. We can’t go back,” he said cautiously. “What happens when the snow is done and I go back to Alexandria, you go back to Georgetown, and we walk into the Hoover the next morning? What about the work?”

“The work,” she muttered. She took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. “Mulder, there’s more to it than the work. It’s our journey now, together.” He was quiet. “Or was I wrong in assuming so?”

He shook his head. “It became about you,” he whispered. “It’s all about you. When we were on the bridge and you were being held hostage by that alien bounty hunter and I had to choose you or my sister...the only thing I saw was you. The only thing I could think of was you. I mean, here was my sister but you were the only constant thing I had in a very long time.” He gave Scully a wistful smile. “You were one heck of a little spy.”

“Still trying to debunk your work,” she teased.

“What are we doing, Scully?” he asked. His eyes stared down the hallways that led upstairs to her sleeping family. “Last night…”

“What about last night?”

“Was it a mistake,” Mulder asked. He let his insecurity show. “What we did? I’m half surprised that you haven’t thrown me out into the blizzard.”

“Why would I do that?” She played with his hair. “What?”

“This is something else I can get past. This Scully…” He played with her fingers and the gauze bandage. “You are so…”

“What?”

“Relaxed,” he replied, unable to say anything else.

“Mulder, I told you the truth. I am glad you are here. You make all this bearable. The past few months since Missy’s death, I sensed some sort of...tension between my mother and me. I feel like a part of her wishes it should have been me instead of her. I told you that she and Missy were close like me and dad right?” She shook her head. “I am glad you are here with me, Mulder. I don’t know where we are going down this journey or what the next step will be,” she said softly. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want this,” she motioned back and forth between “to stop.”

Mulder relaxed slightly and gave her a wistful smile. “You are full of surprises, Scully.”

“You said it yourself,” she replied with a smirk, “I’m an x-file.”

Only Scully could turn something he said into something so wonderful. “I want to believe…” he teased.

She leaned closer and kissed him with a sigh. Mulder lounged back into the couch taking her with him. Unlike the night before, they were not rushed this time. He felt like a teenager and was about to get in trouble. He shifted Scully so they both were on their side facing each other. “We can’t be too loud.”

“We could go back upstairs,” he breathed.

His hands were remapping her body, cataloging each sigh and twist of her body. When he found that magic little space between her legs, she gasped. Sensing there was more coming, he increased his ministrations. There was suddenly a different sound coming from upstairs: the creaking of old stairs.

“Wait, wait. Scully!” He hissed.

She bit into his shoulder as another wave of pleasure overtook her. The footsteps were growing closer and despite Mulder’s handy work briefly pausing, the sensations Scully was causing was making him extremely uncomfortable suddenly. “Scully,” he whispered. “Someone’s coming.”

“I’m trying,” came the rushed pant in her ear, “but you’re making this very hard by being so good.”

Mulder awkwardly pulled a blanket over her and closed his eyes, trying to pretend he was asleep. Scully tried to smother a giggle that was threatening to erupt. Her hands played with him teasingly and he clinched his eyes in response. They both heard the footsteps drawing closer and Bill’s familiar voice mutter, “God damn them,” before stalking away.

Scully’s head emerged from underneath the blanket and looked at Mulder with hooded eyes. “What else do you do, Mulder?”

. . . . . . . . . .

January 8, 1996

The snow had finally stopped the next morning and it looked like an alien land as the snow reflected like crystals in the rising sun. Mulder stood by the front door, admiring the snow the stopped just below his knee through the glass storm door. He could walk through that, couldn’t he? The idea of facing Bill with the possible knowledge that he slept with his baby sister made him sick inside. Charlie was enough and did not seem keen on maiming him but Bill…

Mulder shivered.

Would he have been the same if Sam was alive? Sam...Melissa Scully. The crushing guilt came back suddenly as he was suddenly brought out of his reverie when Scully came up beside him with a cup of coffee. “He doesn’t know,” she murmured. “And even if he did, he wouldn’t say anything.” Scully eyed the snowfall. “And you wouldn’t make it down the block.”

“What makes you think I would be going alone?”

Her laughter was soft and she pulled at his hand, bringing him back into the kitchen. Mrs. Scully was making another breakfast fit for an army. Charlie was reading yesterday’s paper. Tara was watching the news while she helped her mother-in-law with the food preparation. Bill was conspicuously absent. “At least the weather has cleared up, Fox. They usually plow the roads within a day so you and Dana can get back to work. I must admit, I enjoyed your company as an added guest.”

“Thank you for not letting me freeze to death.”

Maggie chuckled. “I’m not cold-hearted, Fox.”

“Besides, the entire Scully family is not out to kill you,” Charlie added from behind the news section. Dana sat next to her brother and tossed a balled napkin at him. “I’m just stating a fact, Dana.”

Tara tore her eyes away from the television. “They are talking about shutting down the federal government for a few days because of the weather. Even if you could go back to work, you wouldn’t need to.”

“We’re classified as essential personnel,” Scully replied, “but it wouldn’t make a damn difference because of the government shutdown. We aren’t getting paid right now .”

“Think Newt Gingrich orchestrated this blizzard, Scully?”

“It’d be a convenient excuse anyways,” she laughed.

“You wouldn’t have this problem if you were still a doctor.”

All eyes spun to Bill who looked less than pleased that morning. “Bill, I told you to stay in bed. Throwing up all night.”

“Throwing up?” Maggie Scully raised an eyebrow, going into mother mode. “Are you okay, Bill?”

“Fine,” he groaned. “I saw something very unpleasant.”

He directed his scorching gaze towards Mulder as Tara and Mrs. Scully abandoned breakfast to baby Big Brother Bill back up to bed. Scully remained silent as Charlie folder the paper causally. “Well, Dana,” he murmured, “at least you still have one Scully on your side and that knows.”

“Shut up, Charlie.”

“Don’t worry, Mulder. Bill hates everyone that Dana saw. You’re nothing special.”

Underneath the table, Mulder felt Scully squeeze his hand and give him a soft smile. Charlie set the paper aside and looked at his sister. “You were rather loud last night, Dana.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously as Mulder wisely decided to take a sip of coffee and keep his mouth shut.

“For what it’s worth, Mulder. I’m glad you are here with Dana. Certainly spices things up in more ways than one,” he laughed.

Scully blushed and squeezed her partner’s hand as Mulder chuckled, unable to come up with a reply.

. . . . . . . . .

January 10, 1996

By Tuesday, the city and state authorities had worked through the past 48 hours to clear the roads enough for Charlie, Mulder, and Scully decide it was time to depart Maggie Scully’s house and get back to their own lives. Mrs. Scully said goodbye with Tara in front of the house. Mulder caught Bill’s scorching glare from upstairs. Goodbyes were said by Mulder, Scully, Charlie as they departed to go their separate way. As the FBI partners got into the recently unearthed car to head by to Georgetown.

“Not how you thought it would turn out, huh?”

“Not bad at all, Scully.”

“Bill certain hates you.”

“Well, your mother doesn’t. Yet.”

“Give it time,” he answered.

She laughed as they began the treacherous drive back to spend an extra day off together before the snows safely melted.

#xfiles #txf fic #xfeaster2019 #msr #msrfic #mulder and scully #mulder #scully #maggie scully #melissa scully (mention)#big brother bill scully #charlie scully #smut #it's long btw so apologies in advance #paper clip post ep

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namjoonchronicles · 5 years

Text

homebound | yoongi

Pairing: yoongi x reader Genre: fluff, domestic, marriage au Word count: 4k

Author’s note: i just need someone to catch me when i fall. To pick the things i accidentally left behind, hold my hand and tell me that i’m safe.

There’s something wrong with the snare file Hoseok gave.

Yoongi pursed his lips, staring at the screen of flattened audios full of soundwaves. His face shone by the light from the computer while the rest of the room is pitch black. Then, his passcode-only-accessible door beeped a certain combination and unlocked.

The light is flipped on and Yoongi didn’t even blink, resuming to type, like nothing happen. You walked in, with an exasperated sigh to say, “Can you please please please watch the fried chicken so it won’t burn, I need to poop.”

“Sure wokey...” Yoongi glanced to his screen and typing while pushing his chair back, ready to leave. His left foot was already extended out but his arm hadn’t left the keyboard, frantically punching a few button.

You, on the other hand, were running down the hallway to your main bedroom bathroom, already discarding your shorts and sped through the door.

Yoongi swings his feet out his home studio and shut the door with a mechanical click. The whole house smells like fried chicken. He poked the chicken with the tongs and decided that it wasn’t cooked yet. In a relaxed manner, he glides his eyes to the fridge and squinted over a very oddly suspicious writing that wasn’t his or hers. He pinched this paper and took a closer look.

Of course he didn’t recognise his own writing. He was drunk when he wrote it. On cough medicine.

“Kitchen sink needs fixing, too little flow of water.”

Yoongi went over to check if the allegations were true. It was.

Despite his drunken state, he remembered everything he needed to do as a husband. He had a terrible cough that day. Days, actually. Phlegm start building up and he expelled yellow greenish mucus, lost his voice for a few days, and came back with a groggy one. You told Namjoon he couldn’t be at work, so he stayed at home, where he’s safe. And fed.

Peeking at the chicken that’s happily frying in the pot, he uses the tongs to lift them from the hot oil and to the plate.It was your turn making lunch today, Yoongi will prepare dinner. Thinking that you’d be out in a short while, he placed another batch of chicken into the oil and it sizzled, deliciously.

“Such a heavenly smell…” you said in a sing-song voice. He felt your hand running across the span of his shoulders and your body weight on his when you leaned towards him. “Praising me won’t make me take over the fried chicken, wifey,” he scrunched his face at you and you pouted at him. “I hope you get eaten by the computers one day, and I’ll get all your insurance,” you leaned your back to the kitchen counter watching your husband squinting his eyes at each piece of chicken drumstick he placed inside the oil. “That would take awhile since scientists have not made it possible for a human to travel in micro sizes yet,” he mutters with a certain drawl.

You crossed your arm at him and he gives you a brief but frightened, side glance. He stiffens and placed the tongs on the side. Fidgeting, he turned to look away from you and wiped his nose, sniffling. The air changed, so you must have been angry.

“Move,” you pushed him from your spot, “Go to your studio.”

Yoongi acted like a slime, switching place with you, hugging you from behind and leaned his 5am stubble-covered chin on your shoulder,rocking his hip side to side. “...I’m going to the store in a bit, do you want anything?” he raspily whispered in your ear. You put on your best bitch face and continued cooking without responding to his question. It’s what he deserves for answering so snarkily. Yoongi had always been so tactless in his words, you often wondered where he got it from.

It didn’t take a lot for him to notice the blossoming reddish blue splotch of skin raised a bit higher than the others on your right knuckle. He frowns in distaste because obviously, you have hurt yourself when he’s not around. “What’s that?” He slides his chin off your shoulder and moved his hand down your forearm to your wrist to get a closer, accusing look. He tips his eyes at you and you took your hand to scratch your nose, and put them away from sight. “The first batch of fried chicken...was merciless,” you added a nervous chuckle, not wanting him to see you as a bad cook with little experience. There was excess liquid on the first batch, and it hid behind a coat of bread. You, who thought little of it thought that it would be safe to put them in the hot oil. It was an accident. It could have happened to anybody.

“Which one,” Yoongi grumbled. You blinked and gave him a blank expression. What on earth is he talking about.

“Which one of these fried chicken decided that it was okay to splatter hot oil on my wife’s wrist?” he narrowed his eyes to the plate of chicken.

You don’t know how but you managed to put on a straight face and then, a puzzled face while pointing to the one accused, without sputtering laughter. When you’d been with someone long enough, their jokes become something you just can’t tolerate, sober. Yoongi proceeds to grab the drumstick and rips its flesh to an act fit to be called, ‘angry-eating’. “I’m gonna slaughter you,” Yoongi thought.

“I think I pointed to the wrong one, they all look the same after frying,” you sounded so nonchalant, but the sound of chewing stop from Yoongi’s side. Then he glided his eyes to the rest of the chicken, muttering, “At least they know what happens if you hurt Min Yoongi’s wife.”

“Alright-alright, you’re going to fight the fried chicken for a tiny blister in place for your wife? Cute, but you gotta go to the store and get me some glass noodles. I saw one good recipe in the internet and wanted to try it out,” Hands on each of his shoulders, you whirl him around until you could smack his bum to usher him out the house. He struts outside with a cheeky smile and dug his hand into the pocket of his hoodie, hiding his head under the hood. He didn’t like people much, but he’d do anything to make your day easier. If the wifey wants glass noodles, then she’ll get them glass noodles. He left for something else too.

As he trudges his way there, he saw a familiar face. In the hallways stretching to the lobby where the post box for each residence were. She slips a letter inside.

He didn’t act so rashly and greeted her, because it seemed like she was there uninvited. If you knew she was here, you wouldn’t let her leave without a cup of coffee. Which led to Yoongi to wonder, why have you stopped speaking about her. Her, what was her name, Yoongi pondered. The one with a beauty mark on the side of her lips. Gemini. You always called your friends by their horoscope, instead of their real names. You used to talk about her a lot but somewhere in the span of four to five months, perhaps more, Yoongi couldn’t recall, you suddenly stopped. Yoongi made a mental note to take the letter from the box later when he returns. He wasn’t planning for a long stop at the store and promised to return less than half an hour.

“...that was odd,” he commented when he saw Gemini leaving without stalling any second. Did something happen between the two that he didn’t know about? That must have been it, then. You rarely spoke to him about your days because he was often so preoccupied with his work, so you both were drifting away emotionally, if not physically. That saddens him. Why did he need a reminder every now and then that he is married and is taking care of someone else’s soul apart from his own. He sighed to himself and resumed his route back to the store where he was supposed to be, ten minutes ago.

Maybe its due time that you get yourself a good spa trip.

Your neck and shoulders were suffering from constant stress, you were losing valuable sleep because your legs were having cramps in the middle of the night--and you bet, Yoongi didn’t know any of it. What did you expect? Him to read your mind, and expect him to know what you want without speaking, and communicating, like humans do? This is why you were his headache. You gave yourself a half shake of your head and a lingering smile on your lips, thinking of how ridiculous the concept of love is, in your head. Let’s be honest, Yoongi was your dream husband and your parent’s nightmare. You had emphasized this many times that you would not marry someone you didn’t feel connected with. Your mother called you stubborn, your father couldn’t look at you. But you were firm, and determined that this man is for you and like it or not, Yoongi will be your husband or there will be no discussions of marriage, at all. It frightened them. It was a threat to their neck, and the shame they had to bring themselves for having a child who hadn’t been married at an age where she should. And you had no problem saying yes to any rumor that went around, because making them proud was no longer your goal in life.

The horror of you declaring false affirmations towards rumors like, being a lesbian, or sponsoring younger men, flings for hobby--terrifies them, so they had to say yes to Yoongi. And Yoongi, the gullible one? Thought he was in it because everything was a okay and this was a typical marriage. It was anything but typical.

In the expanse of your acquaintance, Yoongi had gone through a lot of shit. Your step family for example, had come to ram your head to the wall more than once. Put you in false debt, get you running from loan sharks, you were in a mess. Yoongi, being as ever resourceful, offered help wherever he could. Be it lawyers, security guards, relocation, you name it, he had it taken care of. Until one point in life, he said, it would probably be easier if you married him, so you did. You never looked back since then. It was never a crossroad with Yoongi, you knew what you wanted, who you wanted and how you wanted it.

Once your mother invited him home to a family full of distant relatives, and you remembered he was all tensed up because it was a reunion of a different kind. Why? Because unlike his seemingly ordinary family, your father past job made him able to befriend ex convicts and your grandmother from your mother’s side has ties to the town’s gangster. Your parents were the exact opposites to each other. The literal union of black and white town. You never really bothered on how they met despite being on different side of the law, but it happened, and you came to the world with your stubborn head. You wondered which side that was from.

Yoongi squeezed himself in between your very buff and tall, tattooed-all-over male cousins. Their hair was half shaved to show the tip of a dragon tattoo behind their ear. He looked so out of place. You had to save him because the boys were taunting on him. He puffed his cheeks and followed you to the kitchen. He thirstily gulped over a glass of water, emptying it in one go, his chest heaving up and down. “I like the one in white suit,” he’d suddenly say, “he seems nice…” You glanced over to the person he was referring to and chuckled through your nose. “Really?”

He nodded, innocently. “He was accused of burying four bodies in a mass grave behind his summer house, Yoongi. He’s not nice…” you swirled the remaining liquid in the glass he used and pour yourself another glass of water. “Oh,” he blinks.

“What about that one? He looks pretty young…” Yoongi puckered his lips to the guy in simple t-shirt, holding a bottle of soda. “Armed robbery. At 16,” you smacked your lips together.

Good times, good times. You took the pot away from the stove and set a plate of fried chicken on the dining table. The clock showed 2.05 pm. That store trip was taking him awhile, you thought to yourself. Maybe you could use a shower. The fabric of your shirt had taken up all the smell from the frying. Or maybe wash your hair. Steam escape the rice cooker as it cooks rice and you waddled in a hurry down the hallway again, taking off your shirt midway.

Yoongi shoved the new set of steel pipe into the basket. Some snacks and glass noodles. He stopped around the pharmacy and staggered for awhile.

Seems like a lot of work for something so trivial, doesn’t it? Just get it and go, his brain barked, but his heart wanted to take some time and make careful decisions so his wife gets only the best. He grabs one box and prayed that it was indeed the best because his intuition says so.

Maybe she’d like some juice, even though we have some at home. Carrot juice? Honeydew? Hmm. He purses his lips and squinted his eyes at all the brands there. Then he felt it.

He felt a pair of eyes on him. He fidgets nervously. It seemed that he had caught someone’s attention. A female. Young. Wearing a J’adore perfume from Dior. That whiff of an intoxicating scent bothered Yoongi and he struggles to decide which one he wanted to take home. Her hair was down, and she had these expensive headphones sitting on her shoulders, her protruding clavicle was so distracting from the reflections in the mirror. And it seemed like she knew she was gathering Yoongi’s subtle attention. She suddenly stumbles closer to him and Yoongi stepped away, with a stagger. A fake fall, Yoongi knows this all too well.

He used the same tactics before. With you.

She, elegantly tucked her hair behind the shell of her multiple pierced ear, with her freshly manicured fingers. Tight leathers, not sneakers but black Nikes on black crop top, in this weather? Yoongi squawked in his head. He reached for one carton of carrot juice and so did she. The nerve of this girl. Her flirting game was off the chart. Yoongi excused himself, his brain running 1000 terabytes in one second, wondering how to break this girl’s heart. This is not his first time being hit on. You were right, his face is a problem. Yoongi switches sides with this determined girl, trying to get another row of the same brand and there she goes, obstructing Yoongi’s right hand path.

This can’t happen. Yoongi remained calm as she bowed and tried to have a conversation about how sorry she isn’t. All the games had been overplayed.

He reaches the carton now with a left hand where his wedding ring shimmers, blinding the girl’s heavily mascara and eyeliner--covered eyes. “Excuse me,” Yoongi spoked through gritty voice and a fake smile, pushing her away with his basket. I’m already taken.

He waddles to the self-service payment counter, as quick as he can and checked himself out with a swipe of his card. The girl stares at his back, feeling bad that someone out there had that fine piece of man as a husband. Better luck next time.

Humming to Trey Songz Already Taken, dancing in your casual tees and pastel blue short, your hair in a towel, you’re washing the coffee jug to make a new one for Yoongi later at night when he’s working. So he that he’d always have one cup when he required them even after you’d fallen asleep. His well being is your utmost priority. The main door swung open to him carrying several bags of items. You quickly set your hands away from the mug and aided him with one or two but he goes sputtering, “This one is heavy, take that one. That one is lighter.” He spoils you to no end.

“Pipes? What for?” You enquired while unbagging the glass noodles and snacks, already smiling to yourself that he bought your favourite snack even when you didn’t ask him to. Can he stop impressing you already? You’re getting tired of falling more and more in love with his romantic ass.

“I’ll worry about that, oh, babe…” his head jerks up as if he remembered something important, “I saw Gemini downstairs, she slipped this into the letterbox without stopping to say hi, I watched her leave.” You inched closer to his side, and took the envelope without much protest. “You met someone? You smell like a girl’s perfume,” you sniffed him out briefly before ripping the tip of the envelope, but stopped and deciding against it. “Some irrelevant tipsy girl decided to stumble next to me…” and you knew from his tone that he’s not trying to butter up the incident, because he knows that he will have no gain from it. “Well enough about that perfume, what happened with Gemini? Or more accurately, between you and Gemini…” Yoongi enquired.

“Nothing important,” you snapped, moving away from him but Yoongi let out a scoff and a smile as he slid his hand down your arm and grappled your wrist in a loose grip, stopping you from going any further. “It’s a long story and it will bore you,” the way you swiveled away from his grasp made him feel uneasy. And he stood still while you pulled the chair out the table so you could have finally have your lunch. “You took a while buying three items,” you wiggled your butt onto the chair and Yoongi joined after washing his hands underneath the faucet. “I got you juice too,” he swirls his spoon around his soup and took a careful, sip because it was still steaming. “...honey,” he said in a warning tone, because he knew you so well to know that you were avoiding something.

“Gemini said something that hurt my feelings, a year ago, and I’d been sitting on it,” you finally let out an exhale, as if you’ve been keeping the feeling to yourself for awhile. “She was speaking to this other friend I had a beef with and I felt like trash,” you hummed. Yoongi peeked at you through his bangs and glasses, chewing the meat slowly, as he listened. He was finally given the change to swim inside the thoughts of his wife and it was a rarely given chance. You were as secretive as he was. But you two loved each other immensely.

“I feel like I still couldn’t forgive her for what she did to me in college.”

Gemini and you were struggling to find a better house to rent for your second semester in that college. Having to pay rent and find money for deposits, you were pretty low on cash, but your parents never knew that because you don’t tell them things.

“Much like how you’re doing to me now,” Yoongi commented.

Now Gemini didn’t help you pay the deposits. And the room was for two, logically she has her part to pay. But she didn’t offer any financial aid, because she saw how financially able you are, with your car and your parent’s job. Aside from the deposit, the rent, and buying food, you also had to pay for gas of the car you took to college that Gemini also took a ride on. You didn’t want to sound petty and ask for gas money, but it was common sense--you thought. Gemini however, clearly came from family that had no sense. Because a little before the second semester study week began, she said she’s moving out.

“She didn’t tell me when she decided to move out, and was like,” you cleared your throat to mimic her high-pitched voice, “I’m moving out tomorrow, my dad will fetch me.”

And what does that bring you? A double rent for the next month, which is due on the same date she’s moving out that she won’t be paying, handling deposits for two people, and running low on cash for gas until the next scholarship fee comes.

“So you had to pay a two person fee for a room? Alone? While she flees home with her dad without spending money on rent? The nerve she had…” Yoongi mutters towards the end. “She also comes back to college with my car, because her father thinks my rented house was closer than the college…” you took one spoonful of food and think lightly of it. “Wow,” Yoongi drawled.

“Let me guess, she didn’t offer money for gas too? Despite you both were students, and you had to pay rent, and pay food and take her home when it’s raining?” Yoongi listed. You nodded, while ripping the kimchi apart with your chopstick, chewing. “How convenient it was for her dad huh… his daughter gets a free ride, doesn’t pay deposit or gas money, leeching off of you?” Yoongi was angrier than you were.

Fast forward another three years, Gemini said she wanted to stay over at your parents because you live in a city with more jobs than her town had. Even after you said that it was your parent’s house and not yours. She shouldn’t have taken the offer no matter what. It was manners and again, common sense.

“But she stayed about a month,” you mumbled. “Without paying rent I guess?” Yoongi shot.

Yoongi stares to you, his wife, thinking how easily you got played by people who only took advantage of you. Just because you look the part. Rich parents, a car and an able body to lean on. It disgusts him.

“She would have stayed longer if I didn’t tell her my mom was furious. My mom didn’t like her because she knew what happened to me during college,” you nodded to yourself. When she left you alone to pay rent and happily live and never really apologized for it. Hoping that the thing will go away in time. “She also broke my toilet cover and my mom’s mug when she was there… during that time, you were still doing that music scraps and sending it over to me to see how I think…” you reminisce. At least there were a few pleasing moments back then.

There was this one time, when you and Gemini weren’t completely speaking to one another, that she came to your house and gave you a pudding and post-it note. You should have felt something, but all you feel was hate. You couldn’t even talk yourself out of it. You left the pudding she made and it went bad. The thing is you don’t even eat pudding. You would have eaten if she didn’t force you to return the typical plastic container it came in. “She wrote, this container isn’t mine, so please return it a.s.a.p.”

“And what did you reply? How?” “I texted her and said, you can get the same plastic container at any store. I’m sorry I can’t return them to you,” you snapped.

She shouldn’t have given it if she wanted you to leave the house and hand them to her. You were under a depressive episode and to do that was rude. Countless times you reminded her that you didn’t want to be disturbed when you’re under such episodes, and after five years of friendship, she still didn’t understand and you stopped wanting to make her understand. You were happier alone. That’s what you decided. Having friends only bring me to my demise, and I’m tired.

Finding out the fact that she had been speaking to your other friend behind your back and proudly tell you about it, was very revolting and unacceptable. No matter what. You didn’t speak behind them about anything. And that’s another story you didn’t want to uncover.

“At the end, I felt like I wasn’t a good friend. I kept hurting, that’s what they told me.And I feel like, if they’re not leaving this ship then I will. They will leave one day, why not now, right?” You shrugged your shoulders and Yoongi casted his eyes downward to your plate. No more conversation about Gemini, but you did open the envelope she gave. It was her engagement party. Yoongi could see it in your eyes that you don’t want to go.

He rubs medicated oil on your feet and massaged your ankle, carefully. The pianist’s nimble fingers working on your nerves felt heavenly, but the contents of the letter didn’t allow you to enjoy it fully, so you set them on the side table and rolled your head back on the headboard, sighing out loud.

“I’m going to Hokkaido on that date, do you want to come with me?” he pinches the nose of your ankle, and dragged them down, sensually and carefully, avoiding your gaze when he asked and finally lifting his face when you were silent.

You carded your fingers through your hair and cocked your head to one side at him, smiling. “We should get separate rooms so you can actually do your work…” you caught him sheepishly smiling at the memories of the last time he took you with him to work.

“I will do no such thing, what will my manager say…” Yoongi rode both palms up your knee and thighs, kneading your flesh with utmost care, leaning his lips down to your centre and lands a kiss against your tummy.

“You were supposed to work right now.” “This is work.” A husband’s duty and Yoongi is a very dedicated family-man.

Yoongi was sitting up next to your sleeping body, and he carefully reaches over the box of burn ointment to put on your blossoming burn wound, and he does it so gently that you barely stirred. He rubs his thumb over the mound so softly, it felt like a fleeting touch, if anything. Yoongi presses a lingering kiss on the side of your temple and brushed his lips against your skin to whisper, “You’re safe with me.” Always.

If there’s any lesson to learn from the story you told, it’s to never piss you off, or be risked losing shelter. Yoongi will forever be happily homebound, as long as he behaves.

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chiseler · 6 years

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WHERE CONSPIRACY THEORIES COME FROM

A little over a decade back now, author David Ritchie wrote a sadly unpublished book in which he attempted to trace the origins of several popular technology-based conspiracy theories—among them the Philadelphia Experiment, the Montauk Children, and the underground lizard people . Much to his surprise, Ritchie was eventually able to track the beginnings of most of these conspiracies to science fiction films and television shows from the ’50s and ’60s (quite a few of them seemed to originate with Star Trek). Whether the people who began spreading old Star Trek storylines as contemporary conspiracies as some kind of prank or simply because they’re susceptible and had forgotten they’d seen Captain Kirk fighting that Lizard Man is unclear. Check out for instance what happens end when the BBC mockumentary Alternative Three was aired several days after its originally-planned April 1st, 1977 broadcast. It was an enlightening book, and one that’s come to mind a few times in recent days, and the more I think about it, the more I’m starting to wonder if perhaps there’s not still another twist or two that might be added to his conclusions. A couple years ago a new theory was forwarded regarding the Roswell incident and Area 51. Instead of a spaceship or weather balloon, a respectable journalist argued in a new book, the thing that crashed in Roswell in 1947 was actually an advanced Soviet aircraft, designed by escaped Nazi engineers and manned by deformed dwarves. Stalin’s idea was to trigger a nationwide panic by making Americans believe we were being invaded by Martians. There was apparently convincing documentation to support this. I found it a charming, delightful, and strangely plausible theory, and so of course immediately began spreading it around.

Then last week I was watching an old BBC miniseries I hadn’t seen in a couple years.

Back in 1958, British screenwriter Nigel Neale wrote the third of his “Quatermass” series, Quatermass and the Pit (it would be remade about a decade later and released to American theaters as Five Million Years to Earth). Without going into all the details, the story involves what appears to be an alien spacecraft (complete with occupants) uncovered at a construction site in central London. While rocket scientist Prof. Quatermass is convinced the saucer is authentically extraterrestrial in origin, military and police officials insist it was merely a hoax launched by the Nazis near the end of the war in hopes of, yes, triggering a panic across England. After seeing that again and thinking back to that new Roswell theory, I couldn’t help but believe it was another example to support Ritchie’s claim. This respected journalist had seen either the miniseries or the film at some point, and morphed it into her Roswell idea (neglecting the fact that in the film it really does turn out to be a flying saucer).

A few days after watching the film, I found myself watching the pilot episode of The Lone Gunmen—an X-Files spinoff concerning three crusading investigative journalists and techno-geeks out to expose corporate and government graft, corruption, and evil-doing.

Well, in the show’s pilot they uncover a government plot to slam an airliner into the World Trade Center and blame a Middle Eastern terrorist group, thus triggering a war in order to increase military funding.

Now, no big deal, right? Two-thirds of the world believes 9/11 was an inside job. The only tricky thing here is that this particular show aired six months before the attacks. There’s a little thing to make a man say “hmmm...”

But again after seeing that I thought back to Ritchie’s book. The conspiracy nuts who kicked into high gear within hours after the towers came down would have been The Lone Gunmen’s core audience—and having just seen the show a few months earlier of course it would come back to mind immediately. It didn’t take much work—it was a pre-packaged conspiracy theory all ready to post. (Unless of course someone in the Bush administration saw that episode too and got ideas.)

So at this point everything fit. Whether they were disseminated by wild-eyed conspiracy nuts or grabbed by sinister intelligence officials who decided to make them a reality, conspiracies surrounding actual events were still originating in pop cultural sources. But that WTC episode still nagged at me a bit. There were other things going on in the show, but as far as the plot itself was concerned, it was just too spot-on. It was a little unnerving. Maybe there was another layer to Ritchie’s thesis that needed to be considered. Maybe it wasn’t just a matter of some geeks seeing an episode of Star Trek and running with it, or of this journalist seeing a Quatermass movie and consciously or unconsciously deciding to move it from London to New Mexico. What if the screenwriters knew something? What if Nigel Neale had some shadowy insider connections and really did know what happened at Roswell a decade earlier? He couldn’t come right out and say it—that would be crazy, and in 1958 it might well have gotten him killed. So what does he do? He disguises it as an entertaining science fiction program, inserting the true story as a red herring.

And what if these journalists and conspiracists who come along later aren’t merely cribbing the plots from old TV shows, but uncovering the same facts the screenwriters knew all those years before them, when the screenwriters opted to turn them into entertainment instead of boring investigative pieces? Screenwriting pays better than journalism after all, and maybe they were hoping someone would read between the lines.

My problem with conspiracy theories has always been the human factor. People are dumb, and people are blabbermouths. Someone’s going to talk, unless they’re publicly discredited, locked away, or eliminated first. Maybe highly fictionalized screenplays are a way to get things off your conscience without getting yourself killed for it.

If that’s the case, then of course we need to ask what the screenwriters of The Lone Gunmen knew, and how. (If of course they’re still alive).

This is when things only begin to get tricky. If my guess here is correct, then we need to go back to every fictional conspiracy film ever made, no matter how insane or ridiculous, and ask what buried truths about actual historic events the screenwriters (with their dark and arcane knowledge) were trying to reveal to us in some lightly camouflaged fashion? What about all those episodes of Kolchak, or The Prisoner, and what about the other Quatermass shows and movies? Ian Fleming had the background and the access—so are there really James Bonds out there saving us all at the last minute from assorted criminal masterminds and mad scientists armed with death rays and the like? And my god, what about Get Smart?

But to stop there would be making it too easy on ourselves. There are another ten layers or more to go, as history is a constantly shifting conglomeration of the things we call truths and realities and the stories we tell about them, and the lies we tell to hide those stories, and the stories we tell to hide the lies we used to hide the original stories, which no one remembers anyway. The little shards we get handed every once in awhile, these little bits of truth about the world ar merely playthings, used to keep us giggling and preoccupied while still more levels of subterfuge are built on top of all those other lies and stories, which we’ll never penetrate anyway. But they’re still fun to think about while we’re playing with those little toys.

by Jim Knipfel

#jim knipfel #the chiseler #911 #the lone gunman #x-files #the prisoner #Quatermass

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poeticsandaliens · 6 years

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In the morning hour she calls me (post-finale MSR )

This is my take on the post-MS IV canon compliant babyfic. Title is taken from Country Roads (John Denver). Based in part off a post from @foxmulders about Mulder and Scully’s magic teenage son who can explode heads but knows nothing practical about adulting. Tagging @today-in-fic.

Pairing: MSR

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Slowly and strangely, Mulder and Scully reconnect with their son.

He bought the ring years ago. She saw it tucked away in his underwear drawer, once, during the early days of living with him. Two silver bands twirled around each other in a neverending optical illusion. It had taken her a second to realize what it was, another second to realize what it meant, and a third to remember that no, they weren’t already married. They certainly fucked like newlyweds, on every surface that would hold them and some that wouldn’t. They had cracked every piece of furniture but the coffee table.

She wondered for months if he’d actually do it, drop to one knee and go through the romantic motions. Or if he’d wander into the living room one day, unshaven, hands shoved in his pockets and casually ask her to marry him. The funny thing was, meeting Mulder had solidified her desire never to get married. He was everything she found attractive in a man, and he irritated her endlessly in spite of it (and in hindsight, at least partially because of it).

He never asked. When she peeled out of the driveway with her life measured in boxes and medical journals, she was glad for it.

They are slurping cheap shaved ice at a roadside shack, indulging the July heat. Scully has one hand wrapped possessively around a cup of mechanical snow and raspberry syrup, the other shoved into her pocket, pressed flat against her stomach in an ongoing attempt to even process the last week’s events. She can still feel her muscles ripple beneath her touch. She wonders what will come first: the vanishing of her taut abdominal muscles or the baby’s fluttering kicks. What will she hear first: a new heartbeat on a sonogram or her son’s heart beating itself back to life on the river bottom, some confirmation he sends her that he is alive and well? She feels it in her gut, but she waits for him to tell her himself.

“Hey Scully,” Mulder’s hand is on her shoulder. “You okay?”

She nods vacantly. “Thinking,” she replies. About what, she doesn’t have to say. She eyes the grape slush at the bottom of her cup. “Ready to go home?”

“Yeah, but first,” he says, almost sheepishly, in his something to say that I want to be a surprise voice that she always indulges. “I was thinking too, about everything that’s happened in the last couple weeks. I mean, Spender’s dead, Monica’s dead, Skinner isn’t out of the woods yet, William…” he trails off. William is—their son is. Mulder rummages around his jeans pocket. “And I realized, why don’t we get married? Not now, exactly, or even at some set date, but sometime.”

Her bottom lip trembles. “Mulder…”

“Scully, will you marry me sometime?”

And there is the ring. The wedding band he saved for over a decade, that Scully had all but forgotten about, in his outstretched palm over the sticky table. His hands have blue syrup on them. Her eyes water.

“Yees,” she promises. “Sometimes.” She takes his face in her hands and plants one on him, right there between the shake shack and the Taurus. He tastes like blueberries and cheap candy.

That night, between shuddering orgasms and sweet breath and beads of perspiration, they finally break the coffee table.

* * * *

Sunrise curls through the window. Her stomach churns at ungodly hours of the morning, so she kneels each dawn before the porcelain god, then compulsively organizes the kitchen. She needs something to do, even more so since Kersh had informed them of their suspension. So she moves the salt shaker three inches to the right to make room for a potted succulent.

Hey, Dana. Nice plant. It’s Willam’s voice. She’s never heard it in person, but God, she’d know it anywhere. That cavalier, undeniably Mulder-ish tone, as if he were a stranger who could waltz into her life without preamble.

“William…” Her lungs flatten into her ribcage. “Jackson…”

I’m sorry about the whole dying thing, he says carefully. But you understand why I had to do it. They have to believe I’m gone. They have to believe their experiment failed.

“William—”

He cuts her off. Do you think you could answer some questions for me?

“William they may claim ownership of you, call you their experiment. But no matter what, you’re still a person. No matter how afraid and bitter I ever sounded. You will always be our son, and you have a place here if you want it.” She sighs through her nose; she hopes he knows what she’s telling him.

Worry about the little one right now. Of course he knows about the baby. For a moment she’s squared up to give him a talking to for being a know-it-all, but he’s such a stranger to her still. She lacks that kind of authority. That thing’s… what, the size of a blueberry? William continues. That’s what you told that Mulder guy. It’s a lot more fragile than I am. I just need to ask you a question. There is an awkward pause. She counts second until finally, William mutters, if I cut the mold off a sandwich, can I still eat it?

She can’t see him, but oh, she sees Mulder’s son. She stifles a weepy laugh. He isn’t making promises, but she chooses to focus on the fact that he hadn’t refused to come home, either. She’ll see him soon—she can feel it written like a prescription in the fiber of her bones.

* * * *

William communicates sporadically, over the next few weeks. She will be swinging on the front porch, as Mulder collects dead branches and hurls them across the property for Daggoo, and William’s voice will slice into her consciousness. Images will flash through her mind, sometimes the mundane and sometimes the extraordinary. One day he asks, What is it called again when you can make an object float? Telepathy or Telekinesis? The next day, can I put this burrito into the microwave with the wrapper on? And so on. What’s an easy way to hide the bullet scar in my head? How do I get coffee stains out of a white t-shirt?

Sometimes, he sticks around in her head long enough for Mulder to notice. He catches that glassy look in her eye, asks her to tell William he loves him, wishes he would come home. She always says the first part, never the second. She understands now, she cannot ask William to simply melt into their family. “He’ll come when he’s ready,” she promises Mulder, curious if William can still hear her.

I don’t feel like a William, he muses one day. That’s what you named me, right? I don’t feel like Jackson either, but I’m not sure if William is what I want to be called forever.

“We can call him Will,” Mulder suggests cautiously, hunched at his desk. He’s taken to inscribing their adventures in brilliant fiction. His reading glasses suit him.

I’m okay with Will. Like that boy from Pirates of the Caribbean, the one who died and came back. He was pretty cool. Man, I loved those movies as a kid. He’s stopped paying attention to what he relays to her. She enjoys those oblivious moments before their connection is severed.

* * * *

She lies on their tattered couch, a medical journal propped half-heartedly against her knees. She’d stopped reading awhile ago, when the flopping and fluttering began in her stomach. She’d felt it earlier, tiny jerks of movement from the inside, but nothing like this. This is the most tangible, physical reminder of the impossible baby developing inside her. She has softened, her body less wiry now, but still, she’s hardly showing; only Mulder takes notice, and he’s particularly interested in her breasts. She presses her fingers into the side of her belly and is rewarded with somersaults that make her wonder if the baby that make her think of acrobats in the Cirque de Soleil. She thinks of an old X-file, a town of Floridian sideshow performers. If it seemed odd once, she and her family would fit right into it now.

There’s a knock on the door. Skinner comes first to mind—he is their only contact with the FBI, the only person who knows where they live. She and Mulder aren’t the type to make couple-friends at local restaurants.

Mulder thumps downstairs to the door. “I’ve got it, Scully. Don’t get up—” his words catch in his throat.

“Mulder? Who is it?” Scully swings her stiff legs over the couch and moves to join him. She fetches her sidearm from a drawer, just in case. Her heartbeat quickens as infinite possibilities flicker through her head—agents, assassins, aliens, for God’s sake. Even that crosses her mind, if only for a second.

But oh–there are no thick-coated men in black outside the door but her son. Their son, lanky and shaggy and taller than his father. He wears a denim jacket, ratty black jeans that cling to his legs and a t-shirt with what Scully presumes is a band name plastered across the front in such spectacular lettering she has to squint to make sure they’re letters.

“Hey, Dana. Mulder. I’m in town for a few days and I thought, maybe I could crash here?” He looks almost guilty, his lower lip sticking out like Mulder’s. She’s struck by his rumpled, rebellious frame and how closely it resembles Mulder in his youth. And if there was ever any doubt who his father his, she can cite the genetic tendency to die dramatically and spring back to life.

“Of course,” Mulder says and wraps him into a hug, and he lets out a little oof of surprise. He takes it in stride, though, turning to Dana with a twinkle in his eye that wasn’t there before. When she hugs him, her arms fit around his waist and not his shoulders. God, he’s a foot taller than her.

“I didn’t know you were coming.”

He shrugs awkwardly. “I didn’t want you to.”

“Come,” Scully says, because she’s not sure what else to say, here on the front porch of their unremarkable house. “Come inside.”

He follows her into the house, glancing around at the creaky furniture, explosions of books and manila folders, and a smile spreads across his face. “This is a cool place.”

“I’ll show you the spare bedroom.” Scully gestures to the stairs. But when she turns around, Will’s eyes are fixed somewhere else. Her breath catches, because there on the desk is the first sonogram of her unborn child. The other physical evidence, paired nicely with the barrage of kicks where her belly pokes almost unnoticeably over her slacks.

“How old is it?” he asks, and there’s an unidentifiable cadence to his voice.

“Thirteen weeks.”

He nods slightly. “You two are cute parents.”

Her heart cracks at the present tense. Are, she thinks, not will be. Are. She remembers that when three days later, he vanishes from their lives once again.

* * * *

They see him once or twice more in the coming weeks. Scully has learned to recognize the rat-tat-tat of his beater car pulling into the driveway. When he does come back, he often brings some strange, uniquely tourist-y food from wherever he’d last stayed, and they work it into the evening meal. Mulder reminds her that their son has a lot to unpack at his age.

She gets mental postcards of his life. Breathtaking scenery, shadowy forests backlit by an industrial flashlight, harkening back to her youth. He asks about laundry at first, then about her old cases. Verbally, in immense detail as she’s walking or reading or shopping for a shitty IKEA crib, she gives him the X-files. Every case feels like a pound of weight off her shoulders. She tells them like an epic, passed orally from bard to bard. It is Will’s turn now.

* * * *

Whoever called it a ‘baby bump’ had an extraordinarily easy pregnancy, she muses bitterly. Twenty-three weeks, she was a fuller, freckled, flush-faced painting of herself. A little heavier, probably healthier if she’s not lying. She’d hit twenty-four, like a fucking timer, and done a double take in the bathroom mirror. She looked pregnant—not long gone due-any-day, but undeniably with child, her midsection smooth and rounded out, protruding slightly even beneath her pajama shirt.

Mulder had looked at her like she’d plucked the sun out of the sky and handed it to him. She had lain in the backyard grass next to him and it felt like they had come out of time. He pressed his hands to the sides of her belly and grinned. He had, in the course of one afternoon, told the baby about Flukeman, Sasquatch, and the Mothmen in vast detail.

Strolling through the supermarket, she feels exposed, like her life is laid out for the world to see and judge. To line up her crow’s feet with the stretch marks on her stomach. She swears Will wasn’t this big at twenty-four weeks, or perhaps the frame he grew into hadn’t started out as tiny and tightly wound.

“Did you ever hear the one about the woman who gave birth to a beetle?” the check-out attendant asks her. “When he got older he really bugged her!” The guy belts out a jolly laugh, and if she were anyone else she might take it in stride.

She purses her lips. It’s not his fault that he hits too close to home. She can’t think about it, or it’ll all consume her again—Pennsylvania fields littered with tiny, mutated bodies, devil-children cremated outside mansions, insects pulled from women’s wombs. Will sliding into the world in some Godforsaken ghost town into the arms of a woman who seventeen years later would inevitably die in vain.

The woman who gave birth to a beetle? He came out of her screaming and wide-eyed and wet, like any other baby but greener than poison. He suckled her breast with pincers. She read it in an X-file, once.

It’s too much. She presses herself into Mulder later, kisses him hungrily, seeks in him the antithesis to all her anxieties. He takes her from behind because that’s all they can manage now, and she comes so quickly and loudly it’s almost embarrassing.

* * * *

Mulder pokes the peak of her belly. A foot pokes back. She indulges him—all smiles and salt-and-pepper stubble, pushing up her t-shirts reverently touching the ponderous curve of her. She remembers his absence seventeen years ago too distinctly. She pretends not to adore the wonder in his eyes.

The rhythmic puff of a shitty tailpipe rouses them. They know that car. He helps her off the couch in a daze of frantic limbs as they hurry to the door because he’s here, in all of his snarky, ratty adolescent glory. He looks good. He looks genuinely happy, for the first time since they met him. He looks stronger than last they saw.

“Will,” Mulder calls across the driveway because he can’t help himself. Will waves at him with a crooked smile, ambling up to the door. He has a backpack with him, and a box of what appear to be butter croissants.

“Hi Mulder,” he says as he’s engulfed in a hug. “Hi Dana.” His gaze flicks to her stomach; hi eyebrows shoot up, and does he realize how long he’s been gone?

She smiles at him. For a brief moment she’s worried she should have more to say, but Will has been a more constant presence in her life than in Mulder’s simply because he can slip in and out of her mind as he pleases. Right now, she’s said enough.

“I need to put these on the table,” he says, holding up the croissants. “They’re to share.”

They sit around the cramped kitchen table. They bustle awkwardly, preparing sandwiches and opening windows to let the evening sunlight in. With it comes a summer warmth, a red glow on the windowsill. “Why don’t we go outside?” Will suggests. Every time he opens his mouth, Scully expects him to tell her how long he’s staying. Or, she expects an apologetic air, to be able to read the conflict in him and know he will leave in a day or two. She hasn’t felt it yet.

Scully nods and moves to get up from the table. Slowly, with a conscious effort she resents. She sways as she stands, her balance off-kilter. It’s been so long since she’s looked like this. It shocks her how unprepared she is for the shift in her center of gravity. These days it feels like her skin his made of leather, her bones of cold ceramic, and before she can reassure her near-grown son, say, “oh this is normal, you know,” Will’s hand shoots out to steady her.

The heartache flares. It should be the other way around. It should be the other way around. She should have been there to hold him up as he tottered. “Dana?” he asks, and his voice is laced with unanswerable questions.

“I’m fine,” she says. “I’m just not used to this yet.” She smooths her hand over her belly, her palm jumping as the baby’s foot protrudes out one side. She feels Will’s dark eyes on her, suddenly so much younger than the rest of him. Perhaps he thinks of his own birth. She certainly does. She thinks of how Mulder put his hand right there when he kicked, and how painfully long ago it all was.

“Remember,” she tells him, “we can’t be young forever.”

Will looks at the otherworldly shape of its foot, pushing on her like a drumskin. He looks at the sharp lines of her cheekbones undercut by the quiet, tranquil determination in her eyes when she touches the errant limb. He looks at Mulder looking at her, with unadulterated wonder. It slips out of his mouth, clearly unexpected. “Can I feel?”

Scully is misty-eyed—some combination of hormones and her body awash with history—when she nods. She sways again; it’s all so overwhelming, and Mulder moves behind her, his hand on the small of her back. She takes Will’s callused hand, her eyebrows raised at him to make sure it’s okay, and places it on the hard mound of her belly.

He grins. “I can feel it move.” A laugh escapes him. She guides him to where the foot pushes out lopsided. He taps it, and it taps back. She flashes back again to Mulder, in the hospital, his palm flat on the skin that enclosed the amoebic creature to become Will.

William is a boy tailed by Death; it clings to his skin like spiderwebs, haunts him wherever he flees to. She hopes Will finds peace here, feeling his sibling move inside her. It is unspeakably weird, all of it, to have the baby she mourned for decades turn up grown before her eyes. In a way, she’d always pictured him outside of time. But neither does he last forever, so here she stands with stubbled spook-writer Mulder, her adult son holding her steady and clinging with one finger to her unborn child.

She wishes they could hand Will the sun, but all they can hand him is home, whatever that may be.

#the x-files #txf fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #william scully #jackson van de kamp #ms iv #ms iv post-ep #ms iv fanfic #baby fic #msr fanfic #today-in-fic

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oppatxtme · 7 years

Text

Christian Yu: What’s On Sight (7)

CHRISTIAN YU x READER x JAY PARK

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 8

WARNING: Read @ Your Own Risk

A/N: (Nhaks lakas maka-A/N HAHA!) Finally able to post this. Yeah, it took longer than expected, but here it is and so please do enjoy!

Also, just keep in mind that English is not my native language so there might be some spelling and grammar error. Sorry for my lack of talent and I promise to work hard on this. Thank you and please enjoy. Any feedback is well loved. <3

"Are you sure you'll be fine here?"

"Of course! I'm not a child Y/N." He answered while his busy setting up his laptop on the desk in your room.

He looked at you when you just quietly watching him.

"What? I know I'm handsome but I think you should be somewhere else right now?" You just laugh. "You know Y/N, as much as I want you to just stand there and watch me all day -"

"Ugh! I can't! We have a meeting first thing today."

"That's what you keep saying, but why you're just standing there? You said you'll be late awhile ago."

You checked your wristwatch and saw that you only have 15 minutes left before your scheduled meeting with your Bosses.

"Shoot! I need to go." You panicked and looked around for your backpack. Yes, backpack not some handbag or shoulder bag that usually office lady have.

"That's what you said 30 minutes ago baby Y/N." He laughs.

But you froze. It's not because you felt delighted about his laugh. It was because of the pet name he called you.

You looked at him. 'What happened to 'Love'?'

"Baby? Baby your face. Call me that one more time and you are out of my house."

"Oh!.." He said surprised on what you said. "Why? Too cheesy for you to handle? It's not as if that's how your ex called each other."

"No. It's not cheesy, more like corny." You said while you double check your bag.

"Whatever you romance killer."

"I'm going. If you need anything just call me using the phone in the living room since you can't use your mobile internationally."

He leaves what he was doing and walked you on the way to the door.

You sit down to put your shoes on. And he watched you carefully, thinking that him staying there at your place is not so bad after all.

"There's some food left in the fridge and some numbers of my fave takeout. My address is already registered once you called using my telephone, so you'll just need to confirm it. And by that, I already put notes of my exact Address just in case."

You are done putting your shoes on. And stand up to face the man who you're not so sure if he is man enough when you leave him alone in your apartment.

He is your responsibility. So as much as possible you want to stick around and work at home. But you have a meeting that's been scheduled ahead so you can't let Jamie seat in for you.

"Are you listening Yu?" You gave him the knowing look because he still doesn't respond and he totally looked like in the middle of daydreaming.

"Yah!" He reacted when you kicked him in his knee.

"That's what you get when you are ignoring me." You stick out your tongue at him, not sorry for him at all.

"I heard you. Don't worry. As if I've never been alone in an apartment Y/N. What do you take me for, a kid?"

"To be honest? Yeah. So do me a favor, and don’t burn my apartment down. Call me if you need anything at all. Okay?"

"Ara - Arasseo!" He comes closer. You thought he will hug or kiss you, so you stand still and closed your eyes.

"What are you doing? Is something wrong?"

You open your eyes. And you saw a worried face of Christian.

"Nothing." You turn around immediately. You feel that your face is all red because of the embarrassment. 'Assume much Y/N?'

You didn't know that Christian knew what you are waiting for, but decide he played you a bit because for him you are the cutest and it's his for you to miss him even more.

"You sure? I thought you're sick or something because you turned red all of a sudden."

"Whatever! Bye!" You opened the door and about to step out when Christian holds you in your arm.

"Not so fast there Love. You're not going anywhere without the proper way." He smirked and leaned closer.

Afraid to make yourself embarrassed again, you let your eyes wide open. And oh, you shouldn't have and just closed it when you have got the chance.

He kissed you on your forehead, on the tip of your nose and finally his lips settled in yours.

It's a light kiss. That you wished it would last longer.

"That's how it should be Love. So see yeah later, Love. Now go!" And he pushed you off your apartment. And he smiled at you while he closed the door in your face.

When you realized what just happen, you about to rant the door. But your mobile rang.

You pulled it inside your bag pocket. And saw Jamie is calling you.

You gave the peephole of your apartment a dead gaze thinking that Christian is watching you there. But then you slide to answer Jamie’s call while you headed towards the elevator.

"Oh, I'm already on my way. Could you stall them for 15 minutes more?"

"Sure. No problem to that since they're still not in the building as well."

"Well, that's odd. Did you asked for follow-up?"

"I did, and they confirmed that the meeting will proceed as scheduled."

"Ah, okay then. Maybe they'll be there once I arrive or else I'm gonna go home immediately."

"Well, I doubt that’s gonna happen, Madam."

"Why?"

"I called you because Mr. Park is here and waiting in your office."

"What is he doing there? Tell him I can't accommodate him because of the meeting. Tell him it’s gonna be a long one."

When you got in your car, you threw your backpack in the passenger seat.

"I already told him all the possible thing Y/N, he just said that he's willing to wait." She heard you sigh as you tried to drive your car out of the parking of your building. "Didn't he tell you that he is coming?"

"No. I blocked him last night."

"Well, great. That explains why he's here early in the morning."

"What do you expect? He keeps on calling me last night. And I am with Christian. Haaaish!"

Jamie murmurs something but you lost interest to ask her what is it.

"Just let him wait. I'll be there in a while anyway."

"Okay, Madam."

And you ended the call.

"I guess that would be all Gentlemen and Ladies." Said by your Big Boss. "So Ms. Y/L/N, when are you gonna tell us about the big news?"

You stop gathering the file of papers in front of you to look at him since you notice the stares of the people inside the conference room.

"I mean, we heard that you're engaged or getting engaged? Is it not?" He asked when he saw the confused look in your face.

'Could it be Jamie? Nah ~'

Then your eyes landed to the lady next to him. Joy.

And as if she felt your dead stare, she just smiles as if she didn't know anything.

'Imma kill her one time.'

"Ms. Y/L/N?" Your boss called you again.

"Yes-?" You responded surprised. But he takes that 'yes' as yes in his question.

"So, is he that gentleman waiting in your office at this moment?" He asked while giving you that teasing look. "I heard that he is big in the entertainment industry. Is that true? Is that why you want to quit your job here to be with him?"

This is why you called this company as shitty shit. The company is so well off and stable that there’s no more trill. So, the people have this tendency to gossip at each other nonstop.

And the worst part is that your Boss, instead of putting an end to this kind of entertainment he enjoys it. And he fished for more. Just for that showbiz like a parade.

"Well," You lost your words. It was like your brain stop functioning and can't find the right words to disagree and argue that what he said is all wrong.

The other people inside the conference room didn't wait for you to answer. They gather up around you and saying there congratulators and shaking your hand.

You smiled. Confuse is written all over your face.

Before you enter your office, Jamie gave you that teasing smile.

And you can't react because your damn Boss decided to tag himself with you to great your 'Husband-to-Be'.

So you just move your lips trying to say without a sound the words "You're dead!" and she gets it since she looked away.

The moment you open the door to enter your office, his ever manly scent welcomed you.

Nothing to complain though, it smells good and all suited for Jay Park. But the thing is, besides the fact that it can make you smell like one.

You knew well that he uses the same perfume even before. Burberry Weekend. And it just brings you memories that way berried.

You saw him seating in front of your table.

He stands up when he saw you, and by the looks of his face, irritations are written all over.

In your mind, you want to smile just to tease him even more. Because you knew he will be mad, because you not only blocked him all night, you made him wait for almost 3 hours in your office.

Since you asked Jamie to bring your stuff needed for the meeting in the conference, so you don't need to see him first thing in the morning.

'Serves you right dutch Park.'

He's about to say something crazy but paused when he saw a big man followed you. Your damn Big Boss.

So he just stands there and waits for you to come near him.

And the moment you’re in his reach, he does his move that you didn't expect.

He leans at you for a half embrace and a peck in your chick. 'Oh yea, you forgot that he is Jay Park. The king of suave moves.'

After that, you smiled awkwardly. You didn't expect him to do that. You brought back from your senses when your Boss cleared his throat.

"Oh right, Jay this is the COO of our company. Sir, he is Jay Park my fr-" You failed to say the word FRIEND when your boss cut you off.

"Your fiancé. We know. And I want to welcome you in our humble layer, Mr. Park." He offered his hand for a handshake that Jay warmly accepts. Showing his million dollar smile.

You rolled your eyes. You can't believe that your boss cut you off when you had a chance to correct everything that he thought about you and Jay.

Jay just accepts it. And if you correct it again, what mess are you making Y/N?

"Pleasure to finally meet you, Sir," Jay said.

"The pleasure is all mine. Let's sit." As your boss lead the way to your couch on the edge side of your office. "Jamie, be a good girl and make us a cup of coffee?" He asked Jay, and he totally ignores your presence.

"Hmm, Sir?" You tried to caught his attention because you just stand there not believing on what’s happening.

"What are you doing there Y/N?"

'Ah, so it's now on the first name basis Sir?'

"Sit beside him. Let's chat a little. I really want to know the story of you both." And he looked at Jay and totally ignoring you.

You looked at Jay, and you can see that he is enjoying the attention.

"I still can't believe that someone can really tame Y/N here." Your boss laughs, Jay laugh and you rolled your eyes.

It's almost 15 minutes pass and your Boss throw all this question, knowing Jay's background, work and something more like where did you two meet and know each other.

You are not sure what to say, but Jay answers it all like it was nothing. Though his answer is mostly based on the past. Making it seems that you've been in a relationship for almost 7 years and just decided that its time to tie the knot.

Now that you notice it, you are somewhat in kind of showbiz or variety show with all the question your boss is throwing. No wonder Jay is like a pro with this.

"Actually Sir," Jay is saying something but you cut him off to make them notice you. And now both of them are looking at you.

Jay shifted his body to looked at you properly even though he is just seating at your right side and in the same couch while your boss is at the single one.

You clear your throat.

"Jay and I are not engaged, so it would be best if this issue or news would not go around the company." After saying that in one blow, you release a sigh of relieve.

"What are you saying Y/N?" Your boss is now confused and looking at you and Jay.

You are thinking of what to say next when Jay beat you again.

"Y/N is right sir. This issue is not good if being spread all around especially here in her workplace."

You can't believe that you and Jay are on the same page for the first time. So you just nod when he looked at you waiting for your reaction.

'I guess he is not that hopeless after all.'

"Since that nothing is been published yet. I mean, Y/N and I still need to keep this as a secret to protect her from harmful rumors. You may know my line of work is unpredictable that I really want to protect Y/Ns privacy as much as possible. That’s until we can publish this in the right time and way."

He is still looking at your boss may be reading his reaction. But he moves his left hand and put it on your right thigh and press it a little.

You knew what he was trying to say. He wants you to shut up and let him handle this.

Now you take all you thought back. This man is hopeless.

"I understand." Your boss finally answered. "Don't worry, the management will deal with this. Since we are all professional here."

'Yea right,' You wanted to say but you just rolled your eyes.

"That would be appreciated, Sir," Jay said with a light bow gesture.

"Well, I won't keep both of you any longer since it looks like you two need to discuss something." Your boss stands up and fixes his suit.

Jay followed and you as well, even though you're still in a blank.

"No worries Sir, anytime. It's really a pleasure to talk to you." And he handed his hand for a shake. And your boss willingly accepts it.

"Y/N, since the meeting is done and the plan is still in the process, you can take your half day. So that you and Mr. Park here can have time privately." He leaves without waiting for your response.

And in just that, you are now alone with Jay.

Being alone that you and Christian are trying to avoid.

You're brought back to your senses when you heard a knock on your door, it was Jamie.

And you find Jay sitting in the seat on the front side of your table.

You signal Jamie to come in, as you walk to be seated in your chair.

"Oppa, I assumed you already knew my assistant Jamie Smith. Jamie, Jay."

Jay stands up to offer a handshake and Jamie accept it with all smiles she can offer. And you knew with that smile, she is giggling inside her mind.

"Just Jamie, Jay?" Jay said. And you looked at him.

"What?"

"Nothing, I thought fiancé is already next to my name whenever you introduce me. Like earlier." He is teasing you. It’s all over his face.

But you knew better than to argue with his 4-year-old mentality. So you ignore his existence and focus to Jamie.

"What is that?" You asked her as she is holding a few folders.

"It's the minutes for your meeting and some papers need to sign to resume the process of the new theme that been discuss inside." She said while she handed you the folders.

You notice that she can't keep her eye at you when she is standing in front of Jay who is busy on his phone to even give a care for her.

"Is that all?" You asked her, somewhat irritated on the way she is acting

"Yes, Madam. After that, the boss said you are clear to go."

"Fuck!" You blurred out that Jamie and Jay got surprised. It was too much, you hate the idea that your boss is treating you differently because of Jay. Well, that’s how you see it.

"Hey baby girl, language?" He said, eyeing you that you’re not alone and he doesn't really mind but since Jamie is there so he is embarrassed for you?

"Shut up." You said as you side-eyed him.

Jamie walked out and make sure to shut the door because she can sense that a storm is about to hit your office.

"What?" Jay looked at the door making sure it was close. "What's up with you Y/N? I know that you blocked my number and I don't know why. And now you're acting like a bitch."

You tried your best to ignore his mere existence and the fact that he said the B word at you.

"Whatever. I will wait for you till you finish that and so we can talk." He surrenders.

"Talk."

"What?"

"I said talk. If you have something to talk about then tell me, here." You said without looking at him.

Jay can sense that arguing with you will lead him to no good. He just sighs and just goes with it.

"Why did you blocked me?"

"Why are you calling me?" You said without looking at him.

You didn't see how his eyebrow raised, 'Oh is this a Q2Q game.' He thought.

"Where are you when you answered my call yesterday?"

"Why you want to know?"

"Who is that guy you're with?"

You paused in signing the papers and looked at him.

"I'm not deaf Y/N, even in that short time I heard. And it's a damn man's laugh. Who was it?"

"Why do you care?"

He sighs.

"Does your father know who he was then?"

"Why should he?" You return your focus on signing the papers.

"Then that leads me to just ask him myself, right?"

And like every time, he wins.

"What do you want Park? I mean, seriously what are you getting out of all of this fucked up mess? Money? Fame? Does what you have now still isn't enough?"

You said while setting the papers aside and just holding your sign pen as if your life hold in it.

Jay tried to hide the fact that what you said to him hurt him like you just stab him in his chest.

"Is that what you really think of me Y/N? Is it that hard to accept that maybe," he leans his both arms in your table to face you properly. "Maybe that after all these years I am still in love with you?"

"Don't play with me Park. We both know that that's not what this is." You lean your back in your seat because you can't handle how close Jay looked at you. "What we had was all in the past, it ended 7 years ago. So let it be."

"You're right that what we had is all in the past now, but we both know that it didn't end like what you are saying here Y/N."

"Oppa.. it's old history." You closed your eyes and massage your temple. "There's no need to bring the past now." You looked at him, "What I want to know is why did you agree to my father’s terms? I want to know so I can really understand you. Because if this shit continues, I am sorry Jay but I will really start hating you."

It's his turn to lean back.

He was looking at the ceiling as if he was searching what he will say there.

That gives you time to study him.

He looked as if he didn't age a bit. He still looked the same. Though somehow he is much thinner than the fluffy yet masculine Jay you knew before. He really matured, and he matured in a really damn fine way.

And the fact that his height hasn't changed as well, your height is the same so you didn’t care, but compared to someone you know.. he defined as 'Tiny'.

"I'm hungry."

"Huh?" You got confused because you didn't expect him to say that.

"I said, I AM HUNGRY."

"Haaaaish!" You side eyed him and just continue reading the papers you set aside.

"I will tell you everything," He caught your attention again.

"Over brunch." Then he showed you his pure million dollar smile with matching puppy eyes?

You almost cursed when he still remembers your weakness.

"Seriously Jay? Now?" You gesture him that you are working. "You can just go and come back once you're done."

"No way. I can tell that if I do that, you'll not be here when I come back."

You didn't respond because he was right.

"Just sign that damn papers and let's go." He said as he took out his mobile again.

"And who said I'll go eat with you?"

"Damn woman, can't you get it that I'm hungry and don't worry I'll be paying so just finish that shit and let's get going." He saw that you didn't like how he talked to you. "Please?" And he was saved by his puppy eyes again.

"If you want me to finish quickly, then stop barking all the time."

He is about to say something, but he holds it in because he was really hungry to argue more.

What you didn't knew was that he hasn't eaten anything since last night. And he is really pissed at you and about to question you first thing you enter to your office.

But seeing you in one piece and fine, he forgets all that.

In the end, you agree to come with Jay to eat somewhere. Since he promised that he will tell you everything you wanted to know.

"Jamie, I'll be back after he fills himself. Try to finish everything before I came back. You need to accompany me somewhere." You're not looking at her since you’re looking for your phone in your bag.

"Okay Madam." She said while looking at Jay behind you.

Jay was holding a phone that she knew was yours. She tried to poke you to get your attention. Because Jay is currently scrolling thru your notifications.

"What?" You asked Jamie irritated. And he points Jay that still busy checking your phone.

Your eyes almost pop out when you realize he has your phone. You immediately grab it from him. You will say something when you check first on what he saw in your notifications.

It was messages from Christian, Dabin and Cream. But mostly it was from Christian. Even though his name in your contacts was Barom, you knew Jay wasn't a fool to not figure it out.

You looked at him. Don't know what to say.

"I guess I am not the only one who needs to tell everything here baby girl." He smirked and walks ahead of you.

Both of you settled to eat in a restaurant near your office, and since it was almost lunchtime, the place is packed. The only vacant table was outside of the said restaurant.

Jay didn't want the idea of seeing in a public place with you, but something pops up in his head so he just goes along.

For you, it was troublesome if both of you went far since you need to come back in your office for Jamie.

As the both of you waiting for your orders to arrive. You busy yourself on checking your phone.

You already message Christian that you will talk to Jay so that all of you can talk. But you didn't mention that you are with him already.

Jay looked at you. He took out his phone and message someone. And he can't believe that he will do such measure just to have you.

"So, who is this Barom?"

He said, interrupting you when you are about to reply for Christian who informs you that he mistook your garlic powder as brown sugar that he put in his coffee.

You didn't know how to respond. You knew the fact that Jay already crossed works with Christian as DPR Visuals and CEO.

"Barom...well, I only knew one Dabin and assumingly Cream is one of the producers from DPR. So that gives," You swallow hard because he is damn right.

"Yea," You cut him off, "Barom is the DPR Visuals and CEO, Christian Yu." You looked at him to see how he will react.

But he just nodded continuously while his lips turned in one line.

By that, you knew he wants to say something more but he is holding it in.

"Okay. Before I asked anything else, let's go to the main reason first."

You've been taken aback from how Jay response, so for once you agreed to him.

"Why did I agreed to your father is your question right?"

You nod, but somehow you felt uncomfortable because on how he looks at you as if it wasn't the same Jay you're with a while ago. He feels like someone you never knew in the body of Jay. But you tried to ignore that.

"Don't get me wrong Y/N, but your father offered me things that hard to refuse. Being the owner of a real-estate and hotel mogul - business, connections and all is just a piece of cake for him. But still, believe me, or not. I refuse his offers. More than once." You just looked at him.

"But shit happens Y/N. It was unexpected." He said breaking the eye contact you have while he was talking.

"Why? What happen?" You asked him as you lean in the table. Curiosity took over you.

He tightens his hold in his cap, then put both his arms in the table.

"How can I put this so that you can understand it." He seems troubled. And it made you too worried.

"Just tell me, trust me." You assured him as you hold his one hand.

"You see, you know about my new record label right?"

"Yeah, H1HGRMUSIC right.." And he nods.

"The thing was, in the different company. I had one person who manages and advised on everything financially. He was good at what he does. But what I don't understand is that a few months after me and Chase deposit our additional investment for H1HGRMUSIC account. He just disappeared, along with all the money deposit in both company." You felt that his hand squeezed yours.

You don't know what to say because that news surprised you. You never knew such things do happens and with Jay.

"Both companies are struggling Y/N. We tried to fix this shit internally. Since AOMG is known, all we need to do is make our artist sign more offers and shit. But still, it wasn't enough. And H1HGRMUSIC is in way worst condition. Since we need to release their albums before the end of the year."

"I understand." He didn't need to continue. You know how hard it was for him. And it was wrong to question him any longer.

"Believe it or not Y/N, I am still the same Jay you knew 7 years ago. The same Jay that drives to work hard not for myself but for the people around me who needs me. And believe me, as the day pass by, it has grown bigger. So I just can't."

"Sssssh.." You hushed him. Because if he continues, you can't handle a teary Jay since you're already holding your own tears not to fall.

"So, how much did my old man offered you?" You asked, trying to lighten the atmosphere between you.

"I only want what I needed to keep my two company running, but your old man gave me more than that." Jay looked at you in the eye. "He said that he was just investing for her daughter, YOUR future and it was not a debt that needed to be paid since I'm gonna be your husband and what I own will be yours as well."

"I still have an iffy feeling about the whole idea, because I accept his offer without even knowing who his daughter was."

"What? You are saying that you didn't know that I was his daughter?"

"Yes, whoever it was, I accepted the fact that I have to do it. So when your old man asked me to come here in Dubai to finally put things in action. And when he showed me your picture before we went to your office the other day. I don't know if it’s wrong for me to feel or even say this but I was relief Y/N. Relief, happy and there's even a time that I thank God that he let shit happens just to lead me to you."

Jay looked at you in the eyes deeply, as if he is trying to see what you're thinking. So you closed your eyes afraid of what he might see. By that, a tear escape from your eyes.

You opened your eyes when you felt his warm hands touch your cheeks to wipe the trail of the tear.

You just watch him you tried to blinked your eyes just to make you see clearer or more likely bring your brain working again.

And the next thing you knew is Jay holding both of your hands and he was about to kiss the back of your hands.

Everything around you was turned to a slow-motion mode. And by that, your mind is saying to you to pull your hands before his lips landed on them.

But your damn body is taking its time to move accordingly. And you felt that your heart is going to explode in the anticipating on what about to happen.

And just like that, you closed your eyes and when you open everything went back to normal and Jay already kissed the back of your hand and now sincerely looking to your eyes.

You've just betrayed by your own body and feelings. And what's worst is the fact that somehow you knew you betrayed Christian.

Jay let go of your hands when the waiter arrived to serve your lunch.

You busied yourself in it. Trying to forget what just happened.

Jay knew what you are doing so he shrugged it but the smirked in his face never disappear.

When the waiter leaves. Jay caught your attention by clearing his throat. So you looked at him while you set the table napkin to your lap.

"So, before I continue on talking about my shit. I want to know who is Christian to you." And he looked away to start eating what's on his plate.

You inhaled and tried to relax. You tilted your head to the side when you questioned yourself on why are you getting nervous all of a sudden.

"Well," You start as you focused on your food. "I met him during my college community tour for the homeless in Seoul. His agency is part of that community service as well. We stayed connected since then."

"Lucky guy." You looked at him. "Well, it’s true. He was lucky to have that consistent connection with you. For me though, I don't have such luck."

He brought the past again. You just shooked your head and ignore what he said.

"So, he's just a friend?" Jay asked.

"No. He's currently my boyfriend."

"Since when?"

"Seriously? Why do you care." Inside you don't want him to know that your relationship with Christian has been clear just yesterday.

"Don't give me that look, Babe, I just want to know where I stand here. I bet your father didn't know about your relationship with him. Cause if he does, I wouldn't be here having dates with you."

"What date?" You're surprised that Jay just declares this as a date with him. But as you looked at him, he just shrugged. "Haaaish. You are right. I didn't formally introduce Christian to them. That's because he's been busy with his work. But now that he's here and have some time to spare, I will introduce him."

"Really now, did you think of how your father will react to this?"

"I don't know. Do I look like I care?" You tried your best to looked according to what you are saying for him to believe you.

"Well, I do." He said it with authority that you can't help but look at him.

You see him all serious. Looking at you that like you just said some bad joke.

"I thought you understand why I agreed to your father Y/N. I was wrong to even believe that you can really get what I was trying to say for you to understand me from the beginning. I thought you are better than this Y/N."

"I am."

You thought to really introduce Christian to your parents. Even though the feelings you have for Christian is all new, and if that is even enough of a reason for you to marry him then you will accept it.

Rather than to be with someone who's someone your father is set up with you by money.

Jay shooked his head with disbelief.

"Look, Oppa, I really do. You need the money. That is why we're here in the first place. All we need to do now is look for the money you need for your company. So you would not have any obligation to my father." You said as if it was easy than one plus one.

"Okay, let’s go with what you’re saying here." Jay continues eating, "Yes, I am rather being force than obligated with this shit." You felt some kind of a pain in your chest when you heard him say that.

"And yes money is the main factor here, money that I don't have but your father have and already provided me a long time ago." He stops eating to look at you seriously. "Meaning, I already used the money Y/N. What's left is just the quarter of it."

"How much are we talking about here?" You asked. But you sooner to regret.

"He gave me one billion fucking US dollars."

You drop the spoon you're holding and your mouth wide open. You can't even believe that your father is ready to release such big amount of money just to give it to the man he chooses to be your handsome.

'Oh wait, business this is all about.You thought. No wonder. Money and you are just an investment for him.

"And you only have now is just the quarter?"

Jay didn't answer.

"Fuck Jay, that's a lot."

"What do you expect? I have two companies that need to keep running."

You drank in one shot the glass of wine that the waiter made sure that was full.

"Give me a year and so." He said all of a sudden.

"What?" Still, drown with the wine you drink, you face Jay with a total of confusion.

"Let’s get married for just a year. By then, I'm sure I have the money to pay your Dad."

He said it while looking at you. And you can read in his eyes that he is begging for you to agree with him. He is asking your help, not for him but for his company and for the people whose relying on it.

This is too much for you. The effect of the wine and the hot temperature in Dubai is not helping at all.

"To tell you honestly Oppa, I am willing to give you all the help you need. But I am with Christian now. And I can't really say anything about this without him." You manage to say.

"Do you really want to help me Y/N?" Again with that eyes of him.

"Of course Oppa." You said with all honesty.

"Then I'm sure Christian will understand. That is if what the both you have is real." He said as if it’s a given fact.

You failed to say anything and just watched him finish his meal.

You poured more wine into your glass. And drink it bottomless. Hoping that all the thoughts running in your head will be washed along with it.

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 8

A/N: I really troll Christians IG and I didn’t imagine that he really went to Dubai just last year. Oh well. I hope you guys excuse my trolling him and putting some of it here. HAHAHA

what do you think about this chapter? Talk to me, don’t be shy. I won’t bite. Have a good day/night everyone!

Y/N Portrayer in collage is @Mari_jasmmn ~ check her out in IG (GIRL CRUSH)

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mindingmyownbusiness · 7 years

Text

Falling for You

Pairing - Bucky x Reader Modern AU

Prompt - “I am the stupidest person alive.”

Summary - An unexpected injury gives you the perfect excuse to call on your hot neighbor to save the day.

Warnings - just adorable fluff & extremely vague implied sexy times

Word Count - 3093

Notes - Created for @sgtbxckybxrnes AU writing challenge! Thanks for doing this Taylor! This fic is based on a true story. A month or so ago someone we only know as “stairs anon” sent several asks to @bucky-plums-barnes telling her story as part of her Fluffy Fridays. I was so inspired I asked Genevieve if I could turn it into a fleshed out fic so here it is! Thanks Gen for letting me do this and I sincerely hope that your stairs anon finds and reads this one day and I certainly hope I did her story justice. :)

My Masterlist

I am the stupidest person alive. Only me. Only I would trip going down stairs that I use every single day.

You slumped against the rail, wincing at the pain in your leg, more frustrated than anything. You were bleeding, your books were scattered randomly where they’d flown from your grasp, and you were desperately trying not to cry. All you had wanted to do was to get to the library for some much-needed study time away from the distractions of your apartment and instead your best intentions were crushed before you even left the building. You knew that you should probably just woman up and push through the pain but at that moment you wanted nothing more than for someone to come and rescue you. You knew what you wanted to do but you needed a little push to be brave enough to do it...

Hey Gen, hypothetically if I fell down my stairs and if there was I dunno some blood and stuff I should totally text my hot paramedic neighbor to come rescue me, right?

First, OMG ARE YOU OKAY? Second, HELL TO THE YES!

Lol… yes I’ll live and okay you talked me into it. I’ll keep you posted. ;)

You took a deep breath. It’s now or never, time to call in the reinforcements…

Hey, are you home?

His reply was almost immediate. Yeah, I’m off today. What’s up?

I may have fallen down the stairs. Just a little. Help?

The next thing you heard was the distant sound of a door slamming and your neighbor’s feet thundering down the staircase.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)!”

“I’m down here, Bucky!”

He rounded the landing in record time. “Oh my... are you okay?” You nodded your head, filing away the concerned look you managed to catch before Bucky went into work mode, assessing the situation.

“You’re bleeding…” he carefully straightened your leg out, looking and feeling for signs of other injuries.

“Thanks Captain Obvious, oh hey, did I forget to mention that I fell down the stairs?”

That got a chuckle out of him. “Good to know you didn’t injure your sense of humor.” You knew you were going be just fine when you saw Bucky’s face relax and his witty banter come out. Shame it didn’t make your leg hurt any less. “Looks like the bleeding is slowing down, it’s not as bad as it looks but I’ll need to clean and dress it, okay?”

“Good thing I have a paramedic as a neighbor, huh?” You winced as you attempted to stand up.

“Whoa, hang on there, I’ve got you..”

The next thing you knew, Bucky had picked you up bridal style and was carrying you up the stairs, two at a time. You were speechless at how effortlessly he swept you off your feet, literally and figuratively. All too soon he’d maneuvered you into his apartment and carried you out onto your shared balcony. “I’ll be right back, just gonna collect your books from downstairs and then grab my kit and we’ll get you all taken care of.” He smiled and then he was gone.

After sitting in a daze for a moment you quickly texted your friend...

GEN he legit just carried me up the stairs and he smells REALLY NICE and he’s gonna be back any second to doctor me up (get ur mind out of the gutter woman) and he gave me the biggest smile WHAT DO I DO?!?

Okay we can freak out later, right now we need a plan… best bet, keep it simple. Just thank him, tell him you owe him one for saving you, maybe you can get him to agree to coffee or something?

That might work… crap here he comes gtg

Bucky reappeared with a water bottle and his first aid kit. He handed you the water and then knelt down in front of you. “Alright princess, let’s get you taken care of.”

You were about to snap back with a witty remark but before you could Bucky was lifting your leg to get a better look. You were amazed at how his large and obviously strong hands could be so gentle, you barely noticed any pain as he took care of your wound. He was efficient and effective, cleaning you up and applying bandages in no time at all. “There ya go, good as new,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks neighbor, sorry I bothered you on your day off...” You stood and started to hobble toward the door. You didn’t make it more than a couple steps before Bucky was blocking your way.

“And just where do you think you’re going? You’re my patient now so you don’t get discharged until I say so.”

“But, Bucky…”

“Nope. Now sit down and you can tell me how you ended up bleeding out on the stairs today.” He guided you back to your chair and sat down across from you, propping your leg up over both of his. “Okay beautiful, spill.”

You couldn’t remember the last time you had laughed so hard. Bucky had just finished telling you about the latest shenanigans in the prank war he and his crew had going at work and you were both laughing so much you could hardly breathe. You wiped away tears as you finally took some deep breaths.

Bucky had been the perfect caregiver, checking in with how you were feeling throughout the morning and even going as far as making you lunch. Your leg had been feeling just fine for awhile but the two of you were having such a good time you didn’t see any rush to leave. Looking over at Bucky you were secretly glad that you had taken that spill. If not, you don’t know if you would ever have gotten to spend so much time with your hot neighbor who you now knew also happened to be kind and generous and hilarious.

“Bucky, thanks again for rescuing me. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been home.”

“I was glad to do it, (Y/N). Plus it gave me a chance to hang out with you. I can’t believe we’ve been neighbors for this long and haven’t spent any quality time together,” he said, winking at you and reaching out to squeeze your hand.

You felt yourself start to blush and in an attempt to hide it you jumped up, grabbing your empty glass and using it as an excuse to head inside for a minute to compose yourself. Before you could get very far, Bucky’s hand shot out and grabbed you by the wrist.

“Is that…” he grinned, “Are you blushing right now?”

You turned your face away, desperate not to show him how right he was.

He tugged at your arm playfully, rubbing his thumb against the inside of your wrist. “Now why, why would you have a reason to blush.. unless…” Suddenly he tugged you just a bit harder and you found yourself in his lap, his arms around your waist, his face very close to yours. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it. His eyes flickered to your mouth then back up again. He reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, biting his lower lip in the process. “Is this okay?” His voice was low, and hopeful. You looked into his eyes and gave him a tiny nod.

He met you halfway, his lips ghosting over yours as you shared several small playful kisses. You loved how soft his lips were, smiling into the kiss as you realized this was really, actually happening. He pulled back slightly, grinning as he took in how giddy you looked before diving in for more. This round upped the ante, more delicious pressure mixed with a nip or two. You felt as though you could kiss him like this forever. You reached up, running your hands over his chest and his shoulders with one destination in mind. As your fingers carded through his short brown hair Bucky’s hands moved up your back, pulling you closer. You felt him tease at your lips with his tongue and you opened to him eagerly. He was an unbelievably good kisser. He moved with purpose, like he knew exactly what he was doing but at the same time was exploring, testing the waters to see what actions earned him a sigh or a moan from you. His hands were everywhere now, roaming over your hip, your sides, cupping your face, threading through your hair and giving it a gentle tug. You broke away suddenly, opening your eyes to take in his thoroughly kissed self, hair ruffled, eyes hooded, lips slightly swollen. You could only imagine what you looked like. He opened his eyes wider in concern and released your hair.

“Oh god, did I hurt you?”

“Wha-what…? No.. hell no, that was so hot.”

“Well in that case…” He had a positively predatory look in his eyes as he reached back up and gently pulled on your hair again. Your instant reaction was to close your eyes and lean your head back with a moan as Bucky wasted no time kissing your neck with the same determination that he had shown your mouth just moments before. Pecks, licks, nips, open-mouthed kisses, all along your jaw and down the column of your neck to your collarbone and back, eventually returning to your mouth where you happily reciprocated his enthusiasm.

You were positive that this was the longest and most incredible makeout session of your entire life. After several very long moments you both tapered off, breathing heavily, foreheads touching. Bucky moved first, placing a tiny kiss on the tip of your nose before leaning back in the chair, pulling you with him so that your head lay in the crook of his neck.

You sat there in a comfortable silence, replaying kiss after amazing kiss in your mind. It was literally unforgettable and you were already thinking about when you could do it again. But what if he doesn’t want to do it again? What if this was just a one time thing? You couldn’t help feeling a twinge of self-doubt creeping in.

“You know, I can practically hear the gears in your head turning,” Bucky said, chuckling. “Let me put your mind at ease...”

You tensed up, wary of what Bucky might be about to say. You knew he felt it because he immediately began to rub soothing circles into your back. You felt him take a deep breath before speaking.

“I-I’ve liked you (Y/N), for a long time. When you moved in I couldn’t believe my luck to have such a beautiful woman right next door. As I got to know you and what a great person you were it just fueled my feelings for you.” He sighed and continued, “I don’t want what just happened to mess anything up… and, I know we’re not exactly doing things in the right order but… I’d love to take you out for dinner, a real date… maybe.. tomorrow night?”

You could hardly believe your ears. He.. liked you? The same guy you had been lusting after for months actually like you back? This was too good to be true. You suddenly realized you had been silent for too long and sat up to look at him. He was smiling but you could see the nervousness in his eyes.

“I dunno…” Bucky’s smile faltered a little but you grinned and continued, “tomorrow night is awfully far away, how about we just order takeout and have that dinner date tonight?”

“Why you little…” Bucky attacked your ribs causing you to shriek with laughter and attempt to wriggle out of his grasp. You could feel yourself losing your balance but Bucky caught you and pulled you back into him at the last second, surprising you with a kiss. “Careful (Y/N), can’t have anything else happen to you today.”

“If you keep saving me I might have to find more excuses to get into trouble,” you said cheekily, giving him a peck in return. “So, I believe someone promised me dinner?”

While Bucky was busy ordering you realized you hadn’t checked your phone in hours and there was a very high probability that your best friend may be about to call out the National Guard on you.

Well? Are you still at his place? It’s been almost two hours WHAT IS GOING ON You had better be dead or having the best sex of your life Okay now I’m worried that you might actually be dead TEXT ME BACK RIGHT NOW I’m giving you one more hour and then I’m coming over there

Calm your tits woman I’m fine

THANK GOD okay lay it on me what is happening?!?

We’re just hanging out And making out He told me he likes me?

AAAAAAHHHHHH GET IT GIRL

Lol we’ll see ;)

“What’s so funny?” You looked up from your phone to see Bucky leaning against the doorframe.

“Oh, my friend was just checking in with me since I went AWOL today. I was just reassuring her that I was in safe hands.”

“Good,” Bucky smiled, “Now I can have my wicked way with you and she won’t be coming to rescue you.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “And how do you know that I’m not the serial killer in this scenario?”

He furrowed his brow. “Hm, good point...” then he shrugged and said, “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see how this plays out.” He winked at you. “I did promise you dinner though and I’m a man of my word so try to hold back your murderous urges until after we finish our fried rice, okay?”

“Deal,” you said, smiling back at him.

You were both starving so the dinner part of your date didn’t last nearly long enough. This perfect day was coming to an end and you really didn’t want it to but you didn’t know what to do. If I ever needed a sign this is the time… Glancing at Bucky you grinned slyly as the perfect opportunity was literally staring you in the face.

“Hey, um, you have a little something right there…” you pointed towards his cheek.

“Oh..” he stuck his tongue out, licking his cheek. “Did I get it?”

You felt a flutter in your stomach. “Almost..”

He did it again. That flutter in your gut turned into a flip. “How about now?”

“Nope. Here, let me…” you reached up behind his neck, pulled him in and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Got it…” You had never been so thankful for a stray grain of rice as you were at that exact moment. You were standing very close, breaths intermingling, feeling the air shift as the desire for more grew in between you.

Bucky placed one hand gingerly on your hip and cupped your face with the other, kissing you slowly and sweetly. He pulled back with a sigh, “(Y/N), this has been the best day I’ve had in a long time… I really don't want it to end…”

Your voice was barely above a whisper, “Does it have to?” Looking into eyes you could see his pupils darken. He gripped your hip a bit tighter, pulling you flush with his body.

“Are you sure?”

“Hell yes.”

You stretched, groaning at the soreness in your muscles, and threw on the first thing you could find before wandering out of the bedroom.

“Hey gorgeous,” said a gravelly voice coming from the kitchen. He smirked, giving you the once-over. “Now this is a sight I could get used to.” Bucky’s shirt covered all your important bits but you could tell by the expression on his face that he was still thoroughly enjoying the view.

“You’re one to talk,” you came over to kiss his cheek. “One look at shirtless you is enough to make a girl forget all about breakfast. Well.. almost forget.” You grinned and took a look around. “So, what’s on the menu this morning, Barnes? It already smells amazing.”

“Working on some of my famous chocolate chip pancakes. And bacon. Oh, but before I forget...” He wiped his hands on a towel and suddenly picked you up to set you on the counter. “Gotta check on my patient.” He kissed the tip of your nose and took a look at your leg, carefully replacing the bandages. “Seems to be healing nicely. I might even let you go home today.” He winked at you and got back to flipping. You hopped down and gave his ass a swat on your way out to the balcony, smiling over your shoulder as you went.

Your phone buzzed in your hand and you knew exactly who it would be.

Just making sure you’re STILL ALIVE

Alive and very very very well thank you very much

Just how well are you? I’m gonna need details.

Saving the details for later. Let’s just say that his balcony got to know me very well last night…

NO YOU DID NOT HAVE HOT BALCONY SEX WITH THAT MAN

...and his kitchen, and his bedroom…

I AM FLAILING RN OMG Oh hon I am so proud of you yaassss

Lol he’s even making me breakfast Wanna see?

Hell yes gimme gimme

(photo credit: http://www.mslovejoy.com/post/74196854323)

I’m gonna need a cold shower

It’s all thanks to you Best wingman EVER I owe you

Damn right you do so if he has a brother or cousin or equally hot roommate you gotta HOOK ME UP

His roommate is easy on the eyes for sure. I think his name is Steve… yeah I’m definitely introducing you and soon. He’s gonna need something to take his mind off of how we defiled the kitchen… twice..

Omg stop I can’t take it I gotta lay down

Haha I’ll call you later when you’ve calmed down. Girls’ night is DEFINITELY in order.

You set down your phone just in time to see Bucky bringing out breakfast. He set down the plates and leaned over to kiss you. You smiled into the kiss, giggling a little. “What?” Bucky said, eyeing you warily.

“I was just thinking I should have fallen down the stairs months ago. All that time wasted…”

He chuckled in return, “Just promise me next time you need me there won’t be any blood involved, okay?”

“Promise,” and you sealed it with a kiss. Or two.

TAG LIST: (cause ya’ll are awesome) @dianelogan @therealjamesbarnes @ilovebeingjoyful @buckyywiththegoodhair @cate-lynne @avengerofyourheart @chaneltheavenger @howlingbarnes @bovaria @bionic-buckyb @sexonastickstan

#taysauchallenge #sgtbxckybxrnes #my fic #bucky barnes x reader #paramedic!Bucky

374 notes · View notes

nettlestonenell · 7 years

Photo

The Finale!

I have begun posting this to FictionPress. (It’s not caught up with all my postings here, yet)

Find the earlier bits here on my tumblr.

Part X - At the Apiary

Since last we saw Conrad and Ada, several important plot points in our film have happened. [Because this is a film—does anyone remember that at this point?]

Following their time together at Conrad’s Toronto townhouse, both he and Ada, as a result of their own independent soul-searching, have separately filed for full custody of their clinic-made child, in whom the extended adoptive family has no interest (other than the considerable inheritance due the child from the estate of the deceased adoptive mother—which those same people are trying to get back through any legal means possible).

In the interim, Ada runs into a specific (and seemingly rare) ailment among her flock of heritage sheep. The local vet runs out of solutions, and cannot assist her. It is her mum who eventually cracks it, having been reading through one of Conrad’s earlier books about agriculture and its place in folklore, and recalling having found within it a centuries-old cure, which, to Ada’s shock, soon puts her flock on the mend. Yet another distressing tick in the “pro” column for Conrad Bierkut.

Shortly thereafter, the court makes its final ruling on the current custody and eventual adoption of Conrad and Ada’s biological child. The infant’s name has been kept out of the papers (shockingly), but it is Leta.

The court, having considered the options, and being influenced heavily by the number of statements on record Ada has made about the child not being hers (made when she was trying to outline her original decision to become an egg donor), and an old-fashioned prejudice against what they saw as a woman not (originally) wanting her child--rather than a man not originally wanting his child--has ruled in full favor of Conrad’s petition. (Conrad is also seen to be financially and emotionally more stable than Ada, no matter that this may not be, in practice, true.) He is awarded sole physical custody and a clear path toward future adoption.

Ada is heartbroken at the loss, and feeling more than a little aggrieved with Conrad for battling her for custody.

To viewers, it looks for all intents and purposes like the Babymakers’ story together is over.

And then, Ada’s father dies (not entirely unexpectedly, he has been vaguely ailing throughout the film).

It is the day of his funeral, which was held early in the day, and the mourners have gathered at the farmhouse for a meal. Ada, exhausted, and, of course, sad, decides to step away for a short walk, to clear her head and regain her composure before returning to the wake.

*Mind you, this is not a Terribly Depressing wake. (This is a Romantic Comedy!) People are sad and no one’s dancing, but her father lived a good life, was loved and valued by his family, and they’re all handling it well within reasonable and functional mental health parameters.

Ada is passing nearby the apiary when she catches a glimpse of someone out walking among the hives. She thinks she hears them speaking, but no one else is about.

Startled, she recognizes it as Conrad. Though they had been in occasional contact through the court’s decision process, during which she and Conrad were each afforded visitation with baby Leta, any communication between them broke down seemingly irrevocably with the announcement of Conrad being awarded full custody.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, her tone not one of anger (though she feels she would have a right to be so), but of curious surprise.

Conrad seems surprised, himself, though not startled. Clearly, he expected to have been found out at some point.

“I was just…telling the bees.”

“Telling. The bees?” Ada looked at Conrad Bierkut. He wasn’t even dressed like a man attending a wake. In fact, he looked uncharacteristically scruffy, like he hadn’t been getting good rest, or quite enough sunshine. He looked more than a little like the physical embodiment of his office room, if a man could show up looking cluttered and dusty, and somewhat forgotten. He didn’t look like the victor in a court battle. He didn’t look like the slickly perfect top-requested sperm donor in the city—in the province.

But he did look comfortable, and, she was surprised to note, familiar. She closed her mouth before she instinctively told him she was glad to see him.

“Yeah, it’s uh—you gotta tell the bees. When something like this happens. It’s all over European agrarian folklore. In the Pyrenees—“

She stared. What was he on about?

“Whittier,” he seemed to feel he’d hit on something, sealing the poet’s name with a finger snap. “in Home Ballads;” he said, as though she ought to know it.

And then he was quoting poetry, his hand to his head as though it helped in the recitation; “’Went, drearily singing, the chore-girl small,/Draping each hive with a shred of black./Trembling, I listened; the summer sun/Had the chill of snow;/For I knew she was telling the bees of one/Gone on the journey we all must go!’”

“You are telling the bees that my father has died?” Ada asked, dryly.

He seemed to think his mission supremely reasonable. “If you don’t, it’s said they’ll die themselves, or stop producing—and I thought maybe you all might have forgotten to tell them, and just to be safe, because I really enjoyed that jar of honey Gina gave me, and it would be a pity if—“ he was starting to fall a bit over his own words.

Ada stood still, not certain if she wanted him to go or stay; to stop speaking, or continue.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Conrad said. “I didn’t come here to upset you further. It’s just, I heard about your dad and—and I, my mother, well, my mother went on ahead of us awhile ago. You know that. And it’s…well, I miss her, every day. Every damn day. And you know, I was thinking it’s foolish, really, to, to keep someone that loves you at a distance.”

He wasn’t, Ada thought to herself, no, he absolutely wasn’t going to try and—not here, not now—not after everything--

“To let someone,” he rushed on, “like the courts, let’s say, decide who’s family and who’s not, and who we should love the most and who should love us. Leta’s already lost time she can never get back with your dad, her granddad. And if you love Leta, then, why would I agree to keep her from you? And we were thinking, you know, she and I, that it would be great to have you around for birthdays and first days of school and Christmas and graduations, and we were thinking we should just ask if you would consider, to, like, co-parent, or whatever they’re calling it, with me, and come over a few times a week for dinner with us…”

She felt her heart lurch when he finally got to saying it. But instead of waiting for her answer, he went on. His delivery got a little less rushed, as he continued.

“But then we said, ‘well, that seems a little inefficient, after all. If Ada’s gonna to come to dinner and be at all these occasions, well, why not have her around all the time? Love calls to love after all, doesn’t it? And the miles alone that you’d put on your car, well, we felt like you’d prefer not to do quite so much driving. Carbon footprint, whatnot. Then, why not invite Ada to be part of us forever?’”

She did not register that her mouth had fallen open. The offer of being added to Leta’s life was more than, at this point, she would have ever expected. ‘Love calls to love,’ he had said. And her heart felt that, like an unexpected rock formation deep in her core that he had only just now managed to name, to classify.

“That’s, what the two of you said?” she asked, slowly.

Conrad went on, as if to undercut his statement. “It was mostly my idea to ask you to marry me. Because I love you.” He did not pause for any response from her. “Because it kind of hurts a little not to be able to hold the thing you love, and cherish it, and depend on it being there tomorrow, and the next day.”

Ada nodded, and breathed in deeply through her nose to try and hold off tears from falling. “And because time goes too fast?”

Conrad shook his head to agree with her. “I should have spoken up weeks ago.”

She disagreed. “I wouldn’t have been able to give you the answer you wanted.”

“No?” his eyebrows twitched together, concern blooming there. “…And now?” It was his turn for a deep breath, as he waited for her answer.

“You shall have to speak to the bees again,” she shrugged. “If there’s to be a wedding.”

He put his hand out, in hopes of taking hers in it. The corner of his mouth cocked in a half-smile. “Maybe save that for tomorrow, don’t you think? Too much news at once, might be more than they can handle.”

She extended her hand toward his, realizing how seldom, if ever, they had in any way touched. She was not surprised, but she did notice as he accepted it from her, the lack of callus on his palm. Not like Garrett’s, or Roger’s, or even her father’s. It was something new, something to learn. She looked up to his face. That, she realized, would not be something she would need to learn or memorize. She was reminded quite strongly that it was this face she’d been seeing for some time now, during her days, and also during her nights. It was this face that had—she couldn’t have said when—started crashing all her best dreams. It was this face she realized she had started longing to run across unexpectedly. Those sideburns she had embarrassed herself by realizing how much she wanted to brush softly with her thumbs. “I’m in love with you,” she said, like a girl waking up and sleepily announcing it was morning.

“Ada, Ada,” he said, “Never change,” just before his mouth met hers.

Slowly cut away and flash to back porch of the farmhouse, where Roger is playing with what we realize is baby Leta on his knee, as Conrad has left her in Ada’s brother’s care (without Ada seeing) as he sought out the bees.

“I half hope he gets stung to the point of needing medical attention,” Roger tells the baby, whom he is obviously quite charmed by, “What do you say to that? No? You’d prefer not? Yeah. Guess I’ll have to learn to be okay with him. So long as you’re part of the bargain, yeah?”

Pull away shot from them on the back porch as Gina comes out to join them there, until we can also see Ada and Conrad over the distance, still kissing at the apiary, as well as the rest of the farm lay-out.

Credits roll. To the right of the names and disclaimers, a reel runs of the next bits of Ada and Conrad’s life: the engagement announcement, moments of caring for Leta, the wedding at the farm, Conrad packing up his townhouse to move out to the farm, Ada finishing her house there, her business continuing to flourish, Conrad teaching in classrooms at the university, and then later on holding seminars at the farm.

Conrad’s next book coming out on the same day as Ada’s farm launches an organic lifestyle website.

Success for everyone, the baby is gorgeous. The paparazzi have moved on to the next outrageous thing. Life is good for The Babymakers.

Final scene before credits end shows Ada back at the apiary, holding a stick in one hand, Leta’s hand in the other (she’s about 3). Conrad arrives, very excited by the stick in Ada’s hand, and it is clear they are telling the bees another baby—a naturally conceived one this time—is on the way.

This wild odyssey began on April 27th of 2017.

Please be sure to Look At @jammeke‘s beautiful end-of-story gifset. I could not do better.

#the babymakers #fake film meme #fake movie meme #romantic comedy #chris pine #stars as conrad #lucy griffiths #as Ada #things i have written that are not technically fanfiction #she loves queue yeah yeah yeah

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senatorrorgana · 7 years

Text

Hope Is Not Lost - Four

A/N: So I had no idea it took me this long to write this chapter! I've had the beginning half of it started since I posted the last chapter but didn't finish it until a few days ago. I was going to post this last night but by the time I get home from work on Tuesday nights I'm exhausted! For those of you wondering out there, this chapter is where things start to get a bit interesting ;) I hope you guys like this chapter, I know it took me a while but I love how it turned out and hopefully you guys will too! <3

Pairing: Rebelcaptain (Jyn x Cassian)

Words: 2,290

Rating: M

AO3: (x)

Cassian only ever cared about facts, he had to with being a spy for the Rebellion. He knew that Galen Erso was using this particular Imperial Cargo Pilot to get a message to Jedha, who he was contacting, Cassian wasn't sure. It was obviously something unofficial and probably something illegal, what it was however, Cassian planned on hopefully finding out. Audits were regular occurrences within the Empire, it wouldn't be strange for a pilot to get pulled aside and getting his records verified that he was actually going the places he said he was going. It wouldn't hurt if he slipped up what he was managing to do on Jedha during his free time either.

The trooper brought Bodhi into the office, Kaytoo looming by the doorway and causing Bodhi to appear a bit nervous. Once Bodhi had sat down, the trooper turned and left while Kaytoo returned to Cassian’s side; Cassian pulling up Bodhi’s file on the data pad in front of him.

“Bodhi Rook.” Cassian stated. “You’ve been with us for almost three years now, you’ve been a cargo pilot since you enlisted, but you’ve only been at this installation for six months now, is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.” Bodhi replied with a nod, handing over the tracking log chip from his ship. “Those are all my flight records.”

“Your records say that you are from Jedha, it must be nice to be able to spend so much time there again.” Cassian went on, he wasn’t about to sit here for hours and beat around the topic.

“Not really, bad memories. I just go to do my job, sir.” Bodhi stated.

“Really? What about your family?” Cassian pried.

“No, my father died a long time ago, my mother more recently. I never had any siblings so...it was just me.” Bodhi gave a slight shrug.

Getting nowhere, Cassian handed the chip over to Kaytoo who was able to read it’s contents easily, searching for any discrepancies in his records to what the Empire had on file.

It would appear everything is clear, sir.” Kaytoo announced, handing the chip back. “All records match the ones on file.”

“We’ve just been running a check on all of the cargo pilots, given the state of Jedha.” Cassian tried to explain, handing the chip back to Bodhi.

“It’s completely understandable sir, Jedha’s a war zone.” Bodhi nodded. “Do you need anything else?”

“You’ve lived on Jedha, do you know the name Saw Gerrera?” Cassian asked curiously.

“Everyone from Jedha does, he’s a rebel, his people are the ones who have been causing havoc in the city.” Bodhi stated.

“Have you ever met Saw Gerrera?” Cassian questioned.

At this Bodhi froze, Cassian could see some fear in his eyes and he knew he had him. Whatever he was going to say next would be a lie, Cassian could see the gears turning in Bodhi’s mind to think up what to say

“Once, when I was a kid.” Bodhi replied, and Cassian was surprised to see that was the truth. “But I haven’t seen him since, no.” There was the lie.

“Well, it’s for the best then.” Cassian sighed. “You’re free to go.”

“Thank you, sir.” Bodhi gave a brief nod before scurrying out of the room as quickly as he could, the door slamming shut behind him.

“Did you find something?” Kaytoo quickly questioned.

“He knows Saw Gerrera, I have no doubt that he’s been spending his time with the man on his more recent trips. That means that Galen Erso knows Saw Gerrera too, they’re planning something.” Cassian said.

“It sounds like they're planning a rebellion of their own, Captain.” Kaytoo replied.

“They might. It’s too early to tell.” Cassian rose from his chair. “If I can get more information from his daughter, we might have enough to send a report.”

“Something tells me you wish to speak to Miss Erso for more than just getting information.” Kaytoo said.

“She’s a mission, Kay.” Cassian sighed.

“You keep saying that, but there’s a ninety-seven percent chance that you find her attractive and would like to-”

“Kay!” Cassian hissed.

“I was going to say kiss her that time.” Kaytoo stated. “But given that reaction, I may have to re-evaluate the percentage of you wanting to sleep with her, it’s escalated since we’ve arrived here.”

For as long as Jyn could remember, she’d always had a problem with authority. Living on an Imperial base didn’t make this urge go away, if anything it made it stronger though Jyn had learned over the years how to deal with some of the superior Imperial jerks who came through the base here on Eadu. Senator Joreth Sward was a new challenge for her; he wasn’t easily swayed with her charms, and he seemed to have a direct mission in mind with getting to her father which only made him more difficult and more intriguing of a challenge for her to conquer. Today was her chance, quite possibly her only chance if she screwed it up, to charm Joreth Sward, at least enough for him to come back to her again and begin to trust her just a little bit.

She donned her Imperial uniform as opposed to the research lab uniform she wore most of the time, hoping to come off a bit more official even though she hated wearing it almost as much as she hated the Empire itself. Despite this, she made her way over to the emptied lab, all of the others had gone with her father into the caves, and if she had any shot of getting through to Joreth, her best bet would be to talk to him alone.

Jyn was busying herself with the kyber crystals, the ones that had just been refined a few days ago and were awaiting being shipped out to the Death Star. Until the cargo ship returned, they sat in the lab, lying about freely for Jyn to study and try to think back on what her mother had taught her about them.

“Miss Erso?” The senator's voice broke the peaceful silence of the room as Jyn turned to face him, putting the kyber crystal in her hand down and getting to her feet, giving him a warm smile.

“Senator Sward, thank you for coming here today.” Jyn said.

“Well, you were rather insistent, and your father’s schedule was only holding the process up.” Joreth sighed, taking a step into the lab now and Jyn noticing that for the first time, he was without his trusted droid companion.

“I promise that I can tell you just as much about the project as my father can, and perhaps in a more entertaining manner, if you’d like.” Jyn grabbed the bottle of Corellian liquor she had brought to the lab and had sitting on her father's work bench.

“Where did you get that? They don’t have any alcohol on this base.” Joreth asked, though he was curious instead of angry much to her relief, she knew it could have gone either way with an Imperial senator.

“I befriended one of the cargo pilots, they sell this stuff like crazy on Jedha. I had them grab some for me while they were loading up on kyber crystals to bring back here.” Jyn explained with a simple shrug; she remembered asking Bodhi to grab this and he was relieved that it was just to grab some alcohol instead of going to talk to Saw again.

“You’ll have to tell your friend I said thank you then, it’s been awhile since I’ve had that stuff.” Joreth smirked, and for some reason Jyn couldn’t help but let her gaze linger on him a bit longer than she needed to when he smiled like that.

“Trust me, it’s always better to listen to some of these things drunk than sober.” Jyn sighed, grabbing the two glasses she brought to the lab and pouring the drinks. “So, where should I start?”

“At the beginning of it I suppose.” Joreth replied, taking a sip of his drink.

“Kriff, it’s a good thing I asked him to bring a big bottle.” Jyn mumbled and caught a glimpse of Joreth grinning at that remark, maybe he wasn’t as stiff as all the other Imperial officials, but it only made Jyn wonder how someone could be an Imperial official and not be dull.

“It’s hard to believe that these small crystals can be so powerful.” Cassian mumbled, he was drunk, he shouldn’t have drank as much as he did, but hell, he was stuck on this Imperial base and a pretty girl had brought along alcohol and was just about as drunk as he was now.

She smiled and giggled at his words, a slight flush to her cheeks from the alcohol getting to her, and the top few buttons of her uniform unbuttoned. He didn’t know why, but he found her smile to be one of the most beautiful smiles he’d seen in a long time, and her laughter was something he’d want to listen to over and over again.

“I’ve never seen them in action, I mean, in like a lightsaber or something.” Jyn explained, holding one up and examining it. “I’ve heard stories about them, mostly Darth Vader’s. That it’s just this bright red blood color, it unnerves me just thinking about it. But I hear the Jedi’s lightsabers used to be almost beautiful, all sorts of different colors.”

“I’m sure they were.” Cassian sighed.

“Kriff, I should be telling you about the project, not lightsabers.” Jyn seemed to snap out of her haze slightly, sitting up a bit straighter, but it was taking all of her effort to do so.

“It’s alright, I’ve heard enough for today.” Cassian sat up a bit now as well. “We’ll save it for another time.”

“It might not be as interesting since we drank the whole bottle.” Jyn smirked.

“That’s alright, I probably should be sober for the rest of it.” Cassian laughed a bit.

A stray piece of Jyn’s hair had fallen into her face, and just as she was reaching to fix it, Cassian reached out to her first and gently tucked it behind her ear, his hand lingering on the side of her face. He was slowly pulling his hand away when Jyn grabbed it gently and leaned into it a bit, pressing a soft kiss to the palm of his hand. That gentle act was enough to make Cassian forget how to breathe for just a moment; the need to lean in and kiss her only growing as he noticed the glint of desire in her green eyes. He thought about it, of just closing the space between them and kissing her right then and there, but before he could really decide, she chose for the both of them and her soft lips were on his, her hands tangling in his hair.

It didn’t take long for Cassian to react and start kissing her back, his hands leaving her face and traveling to her hips to hold her closer to him. A few moments into the kiss and Cassian was already giving in to the desire to start kissing down her neck, his lips leaving hers and kissing down her jawline, getting a few little soft moans out of her. When he reached the base of her neck that had been exposed by her undone buttons, she let a louder moan escape as her fingers pulled on his hair just a bit, only egging him on even further. Finally Cassian had to pull away to catch his breath, and he almost wished he didn’t have to when he saw her face and the pure blissful look that was on it. Her eyes were wide, her lips swollen slightly, and the faint red mark he left on her neck that would surely bruise over night was all but calling him back to lose himself in kissing every last inch of her.

“I should go.” Cassian finally managed to say, clearing his throat and pulling away to put some space between them as Jyn’s hands fell from his hair. “We’re both out of it either way.”

“Oh? And it’s not allowed or something like that?” Jyn questioned, looking as if she had expected that response from him, almost daring him to go back to her for more.

“No.” Cassian shook his head, he was going to give some polite answer, he should have, but that damned look on her face, daring him to come back, it was enough to drive him mad, and enough to make him give a response he thought was fitting of Imperial Senator Joreth Sward. “I can take whatever I want.” His voice was low and back in her personal space, a smile playing on her lips as he said it and her eyes locked on his lips. “I’d just rather be sober, I want to memorize every inch of you.”

If Cassian were sober, he knew he wouldn’t have said half the things he just said right now, but between the liquor and her just looking at him the way she did, he couldn’t help it.

“Meet me back here tomorrow night then, after dinner.” Jyn promised, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “And I don’t like to be kept waiting.” She whispered to him before quickly getting up off of the bench they’d been sitting on and leaving the room, a slight skip to her step as she left, Cassian helpless to just watch her and smile.

He was in way over his head with this one, and until she left, he hadn’t thought about his mission once - that made her more than dangerous, but yet, Cassian didn’t care.

#rebelcaptain #therebelcaptainnetwork #my writing #rogue one #jyn erso #cassian andor

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