#muder and scully

[themaevethcometh]

i'll be honest i'm satisfied with the final four in the ao3 ships tournament! like. it's catering to me specifically in a wonky way. you have spirk (originator of slash fanfic as a term), mulder and scully (originated the word shipping), sasunaru (anime legends), and then wangxian, who not only changed ao3's tagging policy but are my favorite soulmategoodbuddy duo! do i wish destiel had made it in just for the vibes, seeing as we are on the destiel website? yeah. but i am not at all mad about this

#i want it to be spirk vs muder and scully for the final with spirk winning #i don't even watch the x files but it seems appropriate #i wish it had been seeded so that we could've ended up with destiel instead of wangxian for the final four #just because as far as like. fandom history goes i feel like those four being the semifinals would be fitting #but i love wangxian so like i said i'm not mad lol #none of these are even in my top 3 ships that were on the list but for this bracket i'm happy #maeve posts

[jodithann827]

He Said What?!?

Rated: General / Posted on Ao3 / @today-in-fic

Summary: What would happen if he heard something he wasn’t supposed to?

Huntsville, Alabama

December 18th, 1998

Motel 6

The slow and steady hum of the radiator vibrates across the cramped confines of the not quite dingy, but not quite pristine motel room. The sun, having set hours before and taking what little warmth the day offered with it, left the room dark, save for the two beside lights and the standard desk lamp which emits a soft glow. The sound of water gargling flows through the closed bathroom door while Assistant Director Walter Skinner sits on one bed, waiting to wash the stink of the day off. Shaking his head slowly, he thinks back to the previous morning. His commute had been a breeze, his secretary was finally back after a detestable stomach flu had held her captive the week before, the Director of the Bureau was in a relatively good mood, and all of the agents under his watch were performing as needed. Yes, it had been the perfect start to the day. Perfect until Fox Mulder barreled into his office (he really needs to put a stop to that) spouting off about alien abductions and mysterious disappearances. The day went so well until 9:48. Why he entertained Mulder’s crazy ideas is beyond his comprehension. Well, that’s not entirely true. As strange as Muder is, Skinner genuinely likes him—not that he would ever divulge that tidbit of information—and, crazy or not, Mulder has proven himself to be an exceptional agent.

As Mulder spouted and Skinner listened, removing his glasses ever so slowly and rubbing his temples at the thought of the impending headache, he thought back to the previous weeks. Weeks in which Mulder killed a man and faked his death, only to reemerge and blow one giant metaphorical hole right in the center of a government conspiracy. That’s not to mention the almost-death and then amazing recovery of Agent Scully, which Skinner still isn’t sure he understands. He’s just thankful that Agent Scully is at home recovering, and will be ready to get back to work in a matter of weeks. Unfortunately, he knew he wouldn’t have the same luck taming the beast that is Fox Mulder as Scully would.

When Mulder finally got to the point and asked Skinner to sign off on the 302, Skinner could hear Scully in the back of his head. Don’t let him go, Sir. He shouldn’t go alone, Skinner. You know what’s going to happen if I’m not there. He found himself nodding at her words, though Mulder mistook his nodding as permission granted. He profusely thanked him and, with the look of a kid on Christmas morning, mentioned something about booking the first flight out and going home to pack before Skinner realized what had transpired. So, out of respect for Agent Scully and a concern for Agent Mulder, that’s what brought him to Huntsville; a crazy X-file with an even crazier agent. Of course, Mulder’d booked the trip so quickly that the only vacant motel in the area had one room, which is how Skinner finds himself with a roommate.

The bathroom door opens, tugging Skinner from his thoughts. Mulder walks out, thankfully dressed in plaid pajama pants and an old shirt, as puffs of steam follow him.

“Bathroom’s free,” he announces, striding over to the black duffle bag placed haphazardly on the side table chair. He rummages around for a minute, then steps back and falls onto his motel bed.

“You know I could have handled this one on my own, Sir,” Mulder insists, as he had the whole plane ride to Alabama, the car ride to the local station, and again on the way to the motel. Skinner glances in his direction and makes a weak attempt to raise his eyebrow like Scully does, which Mulder of course doesn’t notice..

“Two days, Mulder. I’ll give you two days,” Skinner responds, once again shaking his head, as he gets up and departs for the bathroom.

***

Later, as they lay in their beds, not quite ready for sleep, Skinner looks up at the pale white ceiling of the motel room and sighs. “I know you could have handled this on your own, Mulder,” he admits. Even though it’s dark and he isn’t looking in his direction, he knows Mulder is smiling.

“You promised Scully you’d go with me,” Mulder half asks, half states. Skinner chuckles, or at least as much of a chuckle as he’s willing to emit in front of an agent. “I understand, sir,” Mulder assures him. “I know she worries when she can’t be there to have my back. I know I sometimes make rash decisions…” he pauses when Skinner huffs. “Okay, maybe a lot of the time. Thank you, sir, for being willing to come with me instead of denying the case. I appreciate it, and I know Scully does as well.”

“How’s she doing?” Skinner asks, carefully, as he doesn’t like to speak of agents who aren’t present.

He’s been concerned about her since her remission. She called him a week and a half after her discharge, indicating she was fine and ready to be back at work. Skinner had to bite his tongue from saying something he would regret, like Have you completely lost your mind, and then told her in no uncertain terms that she is not to grace the doors of the Hoover building for at least another four weeks, and only then with a doctor's note. She’s still so weak, physically. Even when she returns, he knows she won’t be ready to be in the field right away. He makes a mental note to check for any upcoming conferences he can send them to upon her return, maybe ease her back into work.

“She’s getting stronger every day. I’m pretty sure she kicked her sweet and well-meaning mother out of her house by the second week of her recovery,” Mulder laughs.

Skinner is amazed and wonders how the agents accomplish anything, being two of the most stubborn individuals he has ever had the pleasure of meeting.

“That’s good,” he tells him, then adds, “It’ll be good to have her back. Well, goodnight, Agent Mulder.”

“Goodnight, sir.”

***

Hours later, Skinner awakens to a sound. Unable to identify it at first, he lies motionless, straining his ears. He hears it again. After a few moments, he realizes it’s Mulder, whimpering in his sleep. Recognizing the agent is dreaming and they aren’t in imminent danger, he rolls to his side and tries to go back to sleep. As he’s about to doze off, Mulder’s whimpers become more frenzied.

“Please, no,” Skinner hears from the next bed. He raises his head a bit, checking to see if Mulder has woken up, but the man’s closed eyes and pained expression assures Skinner that he is very much asleep. Unsure of how much longer Mulder’s dream will go on, Skinner attempts to sleep, but is incapable.

“No… can’t. Please… understand,” whines Mulder. Skinner wonders what is going on in that brain of his. He’s using a voice Skinner has never heard. He sounds scared, young, unsure.

“Mm lost,” Mulder continues, and Skinner hears a hitch in his voice. He wonders if Mulder will start crying in his sleep. Maybe he’s dreaming about his sister.

“Without you,” Mulder states.

Nope, Skinner immediately knows who Mulder is thinking about, and he longs for sleep. Of course, he’s suspected it for years. But without evidence, he never wanted to make a big deal out of it. He knows there are tons of wagers and bets floating around the bureau regarding the status of Mulder and Scully’s relationship, but he usually doesn’t pay too much attention to those things.

“Need you,” Mulder's voice pulls Skinner from his thoughts. “Best friend… No die. No happen”.

Skinner realizes Mulder is thinking back to the cancer. He wants to wake him, tell him it’s all okay; Scully is fine and she’s not going anywhere. But he also doesn’t want to startle him or cause him any embarrassment, though there isn’t anything to be embarrassed about, at least not yet.

“Promise me,” he mumbles, followed by a string of gibberish from Mulder’s dream-induced mouth. “Scully… please…love you… me.” Skinner prays sleep takes him that very instant. He knows more than he needs to, more than he should. Apparently, something in Mulder’s dream has calmed him, which Skinner doesn’t care to know, nor does he want to speculate. He realizes Mulder’s breathing has evened out and he is slumbering once more.

Unfortunately, Skinner is now wide awake and can’t get his agents out of his mind. Now that he knows, even though he tells himself there really isn’t anything to know, he quickly decides not to do anything about it. Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, as much of a pain in the ass as they—well, he— can be, are his best agents and their dynamic is something not to be messed with. He rolls over again, imploring that he’ll forget every word by morning, but knowing the sounds are burned into his brain forever.

***

Skinner wakes the next morning, wishing and hoping it was a dream, but upon seeing Mulder exit the bathroom, dressed in his suit and ready for the day, he knows it was anything but.

“How did you sleep, sir?” asks Mulder, a look of complete innocence on his face.

“I never sleep as well on the road as I do at home,” Skinner replies, sitting up and stretching. The morning sun is attempting to peek through the drawn curtains. Well, now or never, Skinner thinks to himself. “Hey, Mulder,” he says, his voice strong, but slightly tentative, as if testing the waters. Mulder looks in his direction, eyebrows knit, waiting for him to speak. Oh to hell with it, he thinks. “Mulder, did you know you talk in your sleep?”

Mulder’s eyebrows reach so high they almost touch the top of his forehead as his eyes bulge from their sockets. I’ll take that as a no, Skinner muses. Mulder stares at his boss for a minute, and Skinner almost feels sorry for him seeing the terrified look of pure dread adorning his face.

“What did I, uh… did I say anything, uh…” he fumbles over his words, trying to find the right ones to ask.

Skinner smiles slightly and decides that as much fun as this could be, he’ll go easy on Mulder, just this once. “You said a few words and mumbled a bit. I’m surprised no one has mentioned it to you before. I just thought you should know.”

Lifting himself from the bed, he staggers toward the bathroom to get ready for whatever this ridiculous day has in store for him. He turns slightly to look at the younger man. They’re idiots, these agents of his, but they’re his idiots, and for now, Mulder's secret is safe with him. He’ll be ready whenever Mulder feels free enough to talk about it.

#fox mulder #dana scully #the x files fanfic #msr #walter skinner #talking in his sleep #he said what?

[baronessblixen]

Yeah that kind of goes to my point. Many times if a woman breathed in Mulder's direction CC wrote Scully as acting jealous or possessive. Mulder got that way too but he also wingmanned for her with the buck toothed vampire. If they wanted them to be platonic they should have written in more female characters who didn't want to muder/exploit Mulder and have Scully be more supportive of his relationships with other women 😂

And I love msr all I'm saying is D and G having natural chemistry was not their fault and if CC really wanted to break or have the audiences get past D and G's chemistry they should have had them interact with more charaters in a romantic sense to dillute that chemistry. They were together for most episodes like 80% of the time. What else could CC have expected? 😂

Combining these two cause all of these asks have made me think about how many romantic prospects there were. Mulder had Phoebe, the vampire, that Detective, Bambi and Diana - I might have forgotten one. Scully had Jack (not really a prospect, but he counts), the vampire Sheriff, Ed Jerse, Daniel, Kresge and Jack from Chinga?

In the end the actual number doesn't matter, it's actually more people than I thought there were. CC said he didn't want Mulder and Scully to be romantic, but I don't remember if he said anything about them not having romantic relationships at all. I really think there was nothing to be done about their chemistry anyway. It was just there from the beginning and no matter what you did, or who you threw in, it all paled in comparison.

#lovely anons #i think i lost my point there somewhere #he could have given them relationships #though that would have distracted from the overall arc too so #but it wouldn't have mattered #mulder and scully look at each other and it's like HELLO

[all-that-is-left-is-the-heart]

At least they didn't walk the red carpet together and neither posed together so I didn't have to see his face. I'm fine and ready for more weeks of fuckery-flirting tweets.

#gillovny #xfiles #muder and scully #david duchovny #gillian anderson #that's what matters

[fistful-of-fandom]

#sorry i had to get in on the fun #alien baby baby mama #alien baby baby daddy #txf memes #the x files #incorrect xfiles quotes #muder and scully #mine #xfiles meme

[rosamundpkes]

       Before, I could only trust myself. 

                                              Now, I can only trust y o u 

#txfedit #msredit #userchristina #userananda #useralex #thexfilesedit #foxmulderedit #danascullyedit #the x files #msr #muder x scully #txf #txf* #tv* #gifs* #500+

[wholesome90stv]

S4E18 - Max

#MSR #xfiles #mulder #scully #max #season 4 #cute #david duchovny #gillian anderson #agent muder #agent scully #couple #The Truth is Out There #txf #the x-files #x files #gifs #tv #90s #captions #mental institution #lock him up #fox mulder #dana scully #the x files #x-files

[scullyedits]

Crédits or like: @streeper_always

#gillian anderson #gillian anderson icons #dana scully #txf #the x files #x files #arquivo x #david duchovny #david duchovny icons #fox mulder #agent scully #agent muder #mineicons #mineedits #mine edits #scullyedits

[scully-loves-ruthie]

One time he made a bad joke about pms

Hey my dudes (slides back into the fandom like I haven't been MIA for like 2 years, let alone written anything) I've been trying to be more active these days and have even started writing again. I'm answering some very old prompts from my inbox and working on a long bit of something. Anyway, it's good to be back. Hope you like this!

Thump, Thump, Wack!  The pounding on the door growing more intense with each hurtle the beast’s body delivers.  Mulder's back is pressed firmly against the other side of the door, his dress shoes digging for stability in the burnt orange motel carpet.  Scully splayed against him her arms shoving into the door while adding her body weight against his to stop the impending break in.  Their foreheads touch as each breath shimmies out of their lips arduous, biting back panic.

“I told you not to go out there Mulder.  There’s nothing good waiting for us in the woods at 3am!”  She shakes the hair off her brow pressing her body harder against his as the beast on the other side is making haste of the door frame.  “Now we’ve got a rabid animal trying to maul us to death all because you had a hunch!”

“I’m pretty sure my hunch was right Scully!”  His voice growing panicked and somehow confident at the same time.  “I told you there was a werewolf out there, that we just needed to draw him out, and look we did!  We just need to hold on a little longer till the sun rises and we’ll be left with the poor son of a bitch who’s cursed with this beastly affliction!”

Crack! The top of the door is splitting.

“Shit.”  Scully whispers frantic and strained into the buttons of his dress shirt.  “It’s not a werewolf Mulder.  It’s some sort of animal, a wolf perhaps, clearly rapid or going through some sort of psychosis, and you went out there and antagonized it!”  She pressed harder against his body melding her frame into his just so, the hands of a clock coming together.  Sure, this wasn’t the time to be arguing about whether or not it was actually a werewolf, but years of near-death scrapes, and side long glances in the pursuit of greater chaos really afforded them the ability to bicker anywhere.

“You know Scully” He breathes deep pulling loose strands of her hair up from the top of her head with his middle of the night scruff.  “I really thought my biggest problem this week was going to be getting ready to watch you surf the crimson wave, but somehow we managed to one up even that great causality.

Snap! The doorframe is almost broken down now.  Mulder’s feet scrape and slide beneath him as Scully pushes with everything she’s got to hold the interloper at bay.

“Mulder, I told you I don’t like it when you track my cycle.”  Her words spit out through gritted teeth.

Mulder kisses the top of her head as he feels the door shake loose from its hinges.  “You and the moon Scully, my two best girls.”

“Don’t call me a girl Muder!”  The words fall forward the same time as them, landing unceremoniously on top of the now broken door outside their motel just as the sun begins to streak across the morning sky.

“Sorry, my best lady” He whispers as she lets her body go slack succumbing to the rush of adrenaline from the onslaught and now being full press horizontal on top pf Mulder as they both pant from exhaustion.   “My woman.”  He laments as he drags his nose across her cheek and rises to his feet.  He pulls her up, the two surveying their surroundings for their attacker.  Instead, there is no one to be found just the faint sound of howling and crazed laughter on the horizon.

#xfiles fanfic #my fic #look I finally wrote something again #i've missed you guys

[8leggedfreaks]

The X-Files ep 1.20 Darkness Falls

#the x files #txf #x files #my x files #scully #dana scully #mulder #fox mulder #otp #ship #msr #mulder x scully #scully x muder #1.20 #darkness falls

[scullysexual]

I was tagged by @scully-look. Thank you :)

Name: Charlee.

Gender: I’m in a questioning stage rn so I’m trying out non-binary rn :)

Phone wallpaper: Pumpkin, coffee cup with autumn leaves falling down- it’s animated. I need to change it to something more wintry.

House: Ravenpuff.

Ever had a crush on a teacher: I didn’t think so at the time but yeh, my english teacher.

Coolest halloween costume: I never had one :(

Favourite 90s tv show: X-Files.

Last kiss: Three years ago?

Ever been stood up: Nope.

Favourite pair of shoes: My Nike Royale Courts and my Converse. The only two pairs of shoes I own tbf.

Favourite book: I can’t read.

Favourite fruit: Apples?

Favourite TV show: X-Files, Unsolved Mysteries (the 2008 version) idk....

Last movie I saw in the cinema: I’m pretty sure it was like Muder of Orient Express in whichever Pre-Rona year that was.

Tagging: @baronessblixen @mypanicface @burritoscully @foxscully @enigmaticxbee @msrheadcanon @ariverofsongs and anyone else who wants to do it.

#tag games #get to know me

[slippinmickeys]

A Companion Unobtrusive

You can find Chapter One here.

On move-in day, Mulder showed up at her (their) door at 9:00am sharp, wearing a ratty Oxford University sweatshirt and an anxious expression.

“Hey,” he said, when she opened the door, “I got a buddy downstairs with a truck. Where should he park it?”

“Follow me,” Scully said, and grabbed her keys off the hook by the door. She led him down the stairs and around to the back of the building.

“We’ve got two parking spots,” she said, “though I don’t have a car. You can have him pull in here. The one next to it is yours. You ride a motorcycle, right?”

He nodded and then jogged to the corner and called out to the friend he had waiting, who pulled into the alley and then leaned out of the open window.

“Frohike, Scully, Dana Scully, my buddy Melvin Frohike,” Mulder introduced them.

“Last name basis with everyone, huh?” Scully said to Mulder in a low voice. He smiled.

“She’s hot,” was all Frohike said, and Mulder flipped him off and then directed him into the narrow space.

Scully looked down at her jean cut-offs and baggy, laundry-day tee shirt. She wasn’t exactly dressed for Prime Time.

Frohike cut the engine,  jumped out and they all gathered around the back of the truck. There were about a dozen medium sized boxes and no furniture.

“Is this it?” Scully asked.

“I am but a humble nomad,” Mulder said, “taking only what I can carry.”

“What he means is that he sold almost all his shit when he left England,” Frohike said, “I hope you have pots and pans.”

Scully laughed.

“I do, and you’re welcome to use them,” she said,  “Five bucks a pop for utensils, though.”

“I like her,” said Frohike, hooking a thumb at Scully as he pulled down the tailgate.

They had everything up and into Mulder’s bedroom in less than ten minutes.

“I’m off,” said Frohike, the second he set the last box down on Mulder’s floor. “It was nice meeting you, Scully.”

“Likewise,” said Scully, who was leaning against the frame of Mulder’s door.

On his way out, Frohike paused by Scully and leaned into her confidentially.

“If he tries to seduce you, let him down easy. The man’s got no game,” he said.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Scully said and then cut a look to Mulder who looked more than a little glad to see the back of Frohike.

“Where’d you pick him up?” Scully said, once the front door had closed behind him.

“I collect strays,” Mulder said simply, peeling the tape off of one of the boxes.

Scully took a step back into the hallway.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said. Then, “Oh! Here’s your key,” she stepped back into his room, and handed over the single key. “It works on the building doors and the apartment deadbolt. Sometimes you have to wiggle it a bit on the lock by the garage.”

Mulder nodded his thanks and she backed out.

“Let me know if you need help or anything,” she called out over her shoulder.

XxXxXxXxXxX

A few hours later, she knocked on his door.

“I come bearing gifts,” she said, holding up a pizza box and a six pack of Shiner Bock.

“Marry me,” he said, and she smiled, looking around the room. He’d hung clothes in the closet, and had all his other meager possessions in various small stacks around the room. He’d broken down the boxes and had them sitting neatly by the door. He looked exhausted.

“There’s Spartan furnishings, and then there’s this,” she said, and he shrugged, chagrined.

“I’ll need to do some shopping in the immediate future, I’ll grant you,” he said.

“The good news is, I have a real table with real chairs not eight yards from your bedroom door.” She held up the pizza and six pack once again, “Come on,” she said, “your piles aren’t going anywhere.”

He followed her to the kitchen and she gave him a quick rundown of what cabinets held what, pulling down plates and glasses. She pulled out two beers and slid the rest of the six pack back in the fridge.

She opened them both and handed him one. He clinked the bottles together.

“Happy housewarming,” she said.

“Slainte,” he said, and they both took a slug.

A semi-comfortable silence descended on them, and Scully filled it by sliding a couple slices of pizza on her plate. Mulder sat back and pushed the sleeves of his sweatshirt up his forearms. They looked tanned even in the washed out light of the kitchen and were roped with muscle and sprinkled with dark hair.

“Ever wonder why they call it a housewarming?” Mulder asked.

“I never really thought about it,” she said, and then leaned forward. “But now I want to know.”

She looked at him and he smiled back.

“Fire is a classic symbol of strength and purity, which is why many European traditions involve lighting a candle or a fire on your first night in a new home. Doing so is said to ward off evil spirits by casting away darkness. It’s fallen out of practice with modern conveniences like electricity, but the name stuck.”

“Well,” said Scully, “aren’t you a wellspring of random and arcane facts.”

Mulder held up his beer.

“You have no idea,” he said, and she laughed.

She peeled off a piece of pepperoni from one of her slices of pizza, and popped it into her mouth.

“Be right back,” she said, and came back a moment later with a large white pillar candle and a box of matches. She struck a match and lit the candle, then held out her beer. He clinked the neck of his to the neck of hers.

“To warding off evil spirits,” she said.

“And casting out darkness,” he replied.

They smiled at each other, the silence turning easy.

XxXxXxXxXxX

A few days had passed. Enough for them each to get to know the other’s routines and for the excessive politeness of two strangers sharing a space to fade a bit.

Scully was sitting on the couch going over classwork when Mulder emerged from his room in running shorts and a ratty tee shirt with the sleeves cut off. The skin on his upper arms was paler than that of his lower arms, but had a delineated curve where deltoid met bicep. It took a minute to look away.

“Going for a run?” she asked a little too brightly.

“I was hoping to,” he said, sitting down in front of the front door to put on his running shoes. “Are there any good places around here?”

She set down the paper she was holding, thinking.

“There’s a park a few blocks away, over by the… you know what, it’ll be easier if I show you. Mind some company?”

“I’d love some,” he said, smiling.

“Be right back,” she said, and ran upstairs to change.

When she got back to the living room, he was stretching, one leg held up in a quad stretch, standing with the graceful ease of perfect balance.

“Ready?” she asked, pulling an old baseball cap over her messy ponytail.

He lowered his leg to the floor and swept his eyes over her once.

“As I’ll ever be,” he said.

They walked the first few blocks, with Scully taking the opportunity to point out various neighborhood hot spots -- the local gas station, the corner market.

When they got to the park nearby, she ducked under a low hanging tree to find the running path that ran near the outskirts.

“This way,” she said, and they started to jog.

After a few minutes, she threw him a look.

“I’m slowing you down,” she said, guiltily.

He was taking short strides next to her, keeping pace with her.

“Nonsense,” he said, staring straight ahead.

“Muder, your legs are about a foot longer than mine, you could run circles around me,” she said.

“Sounds like a good idea,” he said with a glimmer in his eye, and then pulled the hat off her head and started running in literal circles around her, hooting at her while she grabbed at the hat -- every time she got close, he’d pull it away, holding it behind his back or far above his head where she could never reach it. After a minute of keep away, they were both laughing and she pulled up, out of breath but with a smile on her face.

“I knew I was slowing you down,” she laughed, and bent to put her hands on her knees.

“Aw,” he said, putting the cap back on her head and pulling it low, “you’d have caught up eventually.”

He gave one last tug on the brim of the cap and they stood looking at each other, a moment passing between them. Scully felt something low in her belly, and there was a sharp look in Mulder’s eye.

“Why don’t you go ahead and get your miles in,” Scully said, taking a step back and breaking the moment. “You know how to get back?”

Mulder nodded at her.

“Sure you don’t want to come along?” he asked.

“Pass,” she said, “I’ll see you at home.”

He took a few steps backward, holding her eye and then turned and loped off back down the path, eating up the distance in long, even strides.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The days turned into a week and then two. Their schedules were pretty compatible, and they usually woke up and ate breakfast at about the same time, and then Scully would leave to head onto campus.

She came back on a Thursday afternoon, holding a folder full of medical school applications, her gut churning in nervous anticipation. Her MCAT scores were good. Hopefully good enough to secure at least one full ride scholarship. She closed the door to the apartment with her head in the clouds, and it took her a moment to notice Mulder, who was standing in the middle of the living room, holding the telephone. He was just lowering it from his ear and he had a queer look on his face.

“Mulder?” Scully said, “Everything okay?”

“I just accepted a job,” he said, looking a little surprised.

“What? That’s fantastic!” Scully said, swinging her backpack down to the floor and plopping the folder of applications on top of it.

“Yeah,” he said, and then moved to the wall to hang up the phone.

“You seem surprised,” Scully said, walking toward him.

“I am,” he said, turning toward her from the wall. “It’s the one I was hoping for. I did not expect to get it.”

“What’s the position?” Scully asked, moving to stand in front of him.

“I’ll be starting at one of the best Psychology practices in the Metro area. Low on the totem pole, but they’ve offered to train me until I get licensed.”

The surprise on his face melted slowly into happiness as the news started to sink in.

On a whim, Scully wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He returned it, warmly.

“Congratulations,” she said into his shirt, then looked up into his face. “This calls for a celebration.”

“Yeah?” he said, looking down at her with a smile. She felt color spreading up her cheeks. After a second they let their hands fall away from each other. “What’d you have in mind?” he asked, taking a step back.

“Drinks,” she said, taking a step back, herself. “There’s a great dive bar right down the street.”

“When can we leave?” he asked.

XxXxXxXxXxX

They were at least four drinks in, not counting the two tequila shots she’d insisted on when they first arrived. They’d both agreed their third drink should be water, and Scully had lost count after that. She had ordered a glass of the house Chardonnay (“It’s terrible, but also four dollars,”), and Mulder appeared to be pacing himself through a large gin and tonic, while Scully told a story.

“And then we said ‘follow that car!’” Scully said.

“You didn’t,” Mulder said.

“We did,” said Scully on a laugh, “but to our surprise the cabbie didn’t share in our excitement and instead slammed on the breaks half a block down the street and told us to get out.”

Mulder threw his head back and laughed.

They had started at the bar, but moved to a dark booth in the back when the place started filling up with the after-work crowd. Rush was playing too loud on the jukebox nearby. The drinks were cheap, the tables were sticky and the lighting was bad.

“I love this place,” Mulder said, looking around.

“Me too,” said Scully, watching the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed his drink. “It’s the perfect dive bar.”

Mulder leaned back in the booth and leveled a look at her.

“Tell me about Dana Scully,” he said.

“There’s not much to tell,” she said, humbly.

“Nonsense,” he said, “a smart, beautiful woman like you? I bet you’ve got a lot going on.”

She ducked her head at the compliment. She’d noticed that he peered rather than looked. There was a ribald quality to his gaze, though she found herself more intrigued than intimidated. Mulder looked at her as if she were a question to be answered and she found herself hoping to be worthy of his inquiry.

“Boyfriend?” he prodded, taking a big drink. She rolled her eyes just thinking about Ethan. “Ha!” he went on, “there’s a story there. Tell it.”

He crunched ice from his glass, the dull sound brushing across her skin like a memory. He held the dewy tumbler in long, elegant fingers and for a moment she felt like a real, live grown-up.

She told him about Ethan. She probably shared more than she should have. How they’d started dating in high school when her father retired from the Navy and they moved to Maryland. She told him about her dreams of becoming a doctor and how she’d broken up with Ethan over it. When she finished, he held up his glass.

“Fuck that guy,” Mulder said, and clinked her glass with his.

“I did,” Scully said, and Mulder choked on his drink, laughing. While he recovered, Scully handed him a napkin and leaned back. “I tell you,” she went on, “I’m thrilled to be single right now.”

Mulder cut his eyes to her.

“Tell me about Fox Mulder,” she said, diverting the conversation, “smart, handsome guy like you? I bet you’ve got a lot going on.”

He smirked at her as he brushed the front of his shirt with the napkin.

“You said no girlfriend, right?” she asked, feeling brave.

“I’m thrilled to be single right now,” he said, giving her a look she couldn’t read. The silence stretched for a moment.

“Missy said you moved back for your sister?”

“That, and it was time to come back,” he said, sighing. He started shredding bits of the napkin onto the tabletop.  “Sam is doing well in school, but that’s about it. She’s at the age where you leave home and strike out on your own but always have that parental support, that thing to fall back on, that place to go home to. Mom and Dad died just after she left for college, and… I think she feels like she was just expelled into the world before she was ready. She’s sad and angry, and I don’t quite know what to do for her. PhD in Psychology and here I am flapping in the breeze, not even able to help my own sister.”

Scully reached across the table and squeezed his arm.

He smiled self-consciously and stood. He looked brooding and slapdash in the half-light of the bar, stippled with 5 o’clock shadow and flecked with chips of light from a distant, dusty disco ball. She found herself wanting to run her hands through his sable hair and brush her lips over his cheek. She threw back the rest of her wine instead.

“We need another round,” he said.

“We really don’t,” Scully said, reaching up and feeling the end of her nose. When she had too much to drink, it went numb. She couldn’t feel it.

“Are we out celebrating me or not?” he said.

“We are.”

“Then I say we need another round,” and with that he walked to the bar, though when he came back, he was carrying two waters.

“Bartender insisted,” he said.

“He’s a good guy,” Scully said, waving in the direction of the bar. A nod from the bartender.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, drinking water and watching the bar fill up. Then Spirit of the Radio came on the jukebox and Mulder leaned back his head as if in ecstasy.

“I love this song,” he said.

“I had you pegged as an INXS guy,” Scully said.

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” he replied. He looked at her steadily. “Let’s dance.”

Scully looked skeptically towards what passed for a dance floor.

“Mulder, no one has danced here in at least a decade,” she said, thinking of a fifty-something barfly swaying by herself to Jolene .

“All the more reason,” he said, sliding out of the booth and holding out his hand. There was a rakish glint in his eye and his renegade jaw clenched once.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” she said, though she put her hand in his and let him pull her up.

“Yes, you are,” he laughed and led her to the middle of the floor.

She was definitely drunk enough because it took nothing at all for her to start dancing. The bartender, who knew her from more than a few nights out with Ellen, smiled at her and bent down under the bar. A second or two later the volume of the music went up and he stood, giving her a thumbs up. She laughed and let herself go.

When the guitar solo started in the middle of the song, Mulder leaned back and started playing an air guitar, throwing his head into it with enthusiasm.

“You’re such a dork!” Scully yelled to him over the music.

“You love it!” he yelled back.

She had to admit, she kind of did. She liked that he seemed to live his life not caring what other people thought of him. It was a lesson she should probably learn herself.

When the song ended and Tom Sawyer came on, she took a step back, and looked up at him. She was sweaty and suddenly self-conscious, feeling like a goldfish in a bowl.

“We should go home,” she said, feeling a lot drunker than she thought she’d been, “get some food.”

He stood up straight, as if gauging how he felt and swayed just a bit.

“You’re right,” he said, “we should.”

They strolled to the bar to settle their tab, and he wouldn’t hear of letting her pay.

They walked out of the bar and were surprised to find that night had fallen. The sudden silence settled over them like a heavy blanket. The air was so fresh it almost hurt to breathe it.

“You should have let me pay,” Scully said, speaking too loudly, her ears ringing with a brief tinnitus from the music. She lowered her voice, “we’re celebrating your accomplishment.”

“Well, my accomplishment is going to pay a lot better than your post-grad stipend, I guarantee you.”

“Still…” she said, and then tripped over the curb.

Mulder reached out and grabbed her arm, saving her from a face plant.

“All hands on deck!” he said, and she smiled and looked up at him gratefully. He slid his hand down her arm and took her hand. “Two blocks to go,” he said, “we got this.”

His hand was warm in hers, dry. She squeezed it. Inhibitions lowered, she could feel herself falling for him a little, against her will.

When they got to their building, there was a young woman sitting on the steps out front with her arms crossed, looking like she was on the verge of tears. When the woman heard them, she turned to look and her face registered surprise and, when her gaze dropped to their linked hands, unhappy confusion.

Scully suddenly wondered if Mulder actually did have a girlfriend and she felt her stomach reel.

“Sam!” Mulder said, dropping her hand. He lurched forward and grabbed the woman in a bear hug.

“Get off, Fox,” she said, pushing him back, “you smell like a frat party.”

Mulder’s face fell.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“What’s wrong ?” the woman’s voice went up an entire octave, “you told me to come here at 7:30. I’ve been sitting out here for an hour and a half!”

“Shit,” Mulder swore. “I’m so sorry.” His apology did nothing to improve her demeanor.

Mulder then seemed to remember Scully’s presence.

“Oh,” he said, “Sam, this is my new roommate Dana Scully. Scully, this is Samantha, my sister.”

“Scully?” Samantha said, and made no move to shake hands. “You’re still doing that last name thing?” Her eye roll was implied.

“Let’s go inside,” Scully said, for something to do, and pulled out her keys to unlock the building’s door. When she got the key close to the lock, she dropped the whole ring. She could hear Samantha sighing in annoyance behind her.

“So, you went out partying instead of meeting me,” Samantha said, her voice flat. “Awesome.”

Scully recovered, got the door open and they all trooped up the stairs to the apartment in silence.

Once inside, Scully knelt to pick up the backpack and envelope of applications she’d dropped by the door earlier and made her way to the stairs.

“I’ll let you two catch up,” she said, excusing herself.

Mulder threw her an apologetic look. She flopped on the bed when she got to her room, applications forgotten until tomorrow.

#the x-files #fanfiction #fanfic #MSR #AU #prompt #a companion unobtrusive #chapter two

[fistful-of-fandom]

Before I could only trust myself. Now I can only trust you.

#txf fan art #xfiles fan art #txfedit #scullyedit #mulderedit #fandom graphics #the x files #dana scully #fox muder #mulder and scully #myedits #myxfedits

[dunhamhairograpy]

Do you have the scene where Scully, mulder and diane meet Gibson and he says mulder is thinking about one of them?

Also thank you so much for these scripts!

Here you go...

https://dunhamhairograpy.tumblr.com/post/169916262932/which-girl-is-muder-thinking-about

By the way, there’s an archive on my Tumblr that’s easy to navigate. Just type in the episode title in the search bar and press enter. Happy hunting.

[mulderspice]

Very upset we never got a “bill scully meets william” moment where muder pounds his face in for being both antisemitic and misogynist in a way that is not fun

god it would have been so sexy to see mulder kick the shit out of that loser. truly

#anonymous