#rewriting over what the nickname of dan means to him maybe?

[gaycrouton]

Devotion

Words of Love 4/27

Devotion: (noun) love, loyalty, or enthusiasm for a person, activity, or cause. [Mulder was nothing, if not devoted to his partner...which was probably why he was carrying her drunken, sleeping body right now]

Mulder never hid from the facts, even if they framed him in a less than favorable light. He was well-aware of the fact he was a man driven by obsession. For as long as he could remember, he could never just casually like something; he would become wholeheartedly devoted .

In the years prior to Samantha’s abduction, he spent his days in fanboy splendor. Each week when a new Star Trek episode came on, he would sit in front of the screen, absolutely enamored with the lavish fantasies of galaxies undiscovered. He would methodically spend the days between episodes rewriting the one he just saw. Exploring everything from the dynamics of the crew to the cultures of the creatures. He could still remember the Spock costume he spent hours creating, wearing it beyond what was deemed appropriate.

He was able to multitask though, just as many hours spent in the fantasy world, he spent an equal amount grossing over the recent baseball scores. From the major league to the local junior league, he was absolutely captivated with the performances and would spend hours recreating the games in his mind, only using the score sheet as a guide.

However, after Samantha’s abduction, his obsession moved onto finding her, and finding out what happened, almost exclusively. He knew it wasn’t healthy, but it was all he could focus on. Well, it was all he used to be able to focus on. It was an irony he was having a hard time grasping. His most recent point of focus, constantly at the forefront of his mind, was the one thing helping him to become less obsessive and compulsive. He was finally able to look at the world through more than a cryptic lens. Is this a new obsession, or is this what love is? Regardless, all he knew was that he was hopelessly devoted to Dana Katherine Scully.

The petite powerhouse came into his life six years ago and he has never been the same. Whenever he thought about the man he was before meeting her, he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed in himself. He wouldn’t take back a moment he spent searching for Samantha, regardless of how much he had lost, because inevitably it was what led him to Scully, but his life had been so monotonous. He had been living solely for the purpose of chasing, what he now felt to be, a ghost.

He didn’t know when his life’s purpose switched from sulking in the past into investing in the future, but he knew Scully was at the heart of the change. He thinks it was when he first saw her cry after he pulled the trigger during the Modell incident. It dawned on him that, for what seemed like the first time, someone would truly be upset if he died. He didn’t mean to sound morose. He knew the Lone Gunmen and maybe even Skinner would be sad, but Scully’s life would change. She would be devastated. Since then, when he wakes up in the morning, he wants to be a better man for her. God, that sounds so cheesy.

He would do absolutely anything for her; which is probably why he was carrying a completely inebriated Scully to her apartment right now.

Scully asking him for a favor was rare. In fact, aside from this singular instance, he didn’t know if it had ever happened before. When she initially asked him, he couldn’t hide his amusement at how flustered she was about it. Her friend was getting married, and she needed a date.

“Are you asking me to go with you?” Her gaze in response to him screamed ‘tease me and you die.’

“If you aren’t busy, I would really appreciate you accompanying me.” She was trying to hide the fact she was asking him on a date under a veil of professionalism. The only signal she was nervous was the blush she couldn’t shake off her cheeks.

Deciding not to make her recant her request by teasing too much, he readily agreed, “I’d love too.” She gave him a 100 watt Scully-smile and he felt his heart hammer in his chest.

She gave Mulder the time and instructions and he spent the rest of the week fantasizing about their impending date. He knew it was a date in the platonic sense of the word, but it didn’t stop the pride that welled up in his chest every time he remembered she chose him. Scully was a very beautiful woman. He had been present to witness men flirting with her more times than we was comfortable with. He knew it would be so easy for her to ask anyone she wanted, but she wanted to spend the occasion with him.

For the first time in longer than he could remember, he fussed over his appearance. He wanted to make the most of this occasion, and he didn’t want her to regret asking him. Mulder didn’t think he was ugly by any means, he knew he was at least average and his suits were always nice and presentable, but now knowing he was about to pick up Scully, he could only focus on the crease that wouldn’t even out on his shirt and the pronounced nose that had been a grievance to him since puberty. He sighed, figuring this was the best it was going to get, and left to go pick up Scully.

When she opened the door, he was positive this had to be an elaborate plan to get him into an early grave. Mulder was not well versed in the terminologies of women’s fashion. She was wearing, what he could best explain to be, a very sexy sundress. It was a dark emerald, beautifully contrasting her hair while simultaneously highlighting her eyes. The dress plunged down her breastbone and it was near backless. The simple straps over her shoulders became an elaborate criss-cross pattern on her back, going so far down it revealed her tattoo.

Her hair was in a similar style to what she wore to work, the only difference being that she allowed her natural curls to be present instead of straightening them out. She was absolutely radiant and it made Mulder want to cry.

They spent the ceremony in comfortable companionship. Though with the added benefit of her occasional touches and hushed whispers. He was glad to know that she knew just about as many people here as he did. It was a dear friend’s wedding, but a dear friend she hadn’t seen in over a decade. So she used him to pass the time in between events. Asking him different odds and ends questions as he returned the same to her. He realized it was humorous halfway through; they could describe how each other’s moods would shift after x-amount of time in a car, how much energy one cup of coffee could provide the other, provide a detailed list of each other’s medical histories, but they didn’t know any of the basics.

While they were sitting in the pews, waiting for the bride and company to get to the chapel and for the wedding march to organize, they took turns asking each other things they didn’t know. Mulder reveled every minute of it, cherishing the new facts he learned like he cherished those baseball scores all those years ago.

Her favorite season was autumn because she loves watching the trees change colors and hearing the leaves crunch beneath her feet. She has an eclectic taste in music, but if she had to choose, her favorites would be Tori Amos and Radiohead. When she was young, she had an irrational fear of clowns. One of his favorite new tidbits of information was that when she was fifteen, Scully let a friend pierce her belly button. She was able to hide it for a year, but when her dad found out, he made her take it out. She’s always wanted to get it redone. Mulder couldn’t shake his amusement at the thought of a rebellious, teenage Scully.

He listened to her words in complete rapture as if she was reciting scripture. Each new anecdote helped him understand his enigma of a partner. He offered answers to her questions too, not wanting to be unfair, and he was flattered to see her equally as interested. It was during the reception when she took him by surprise.

He wouldn’t say Scully never drank, he definitely had seen her indulge in a glass of wine or two in the past, but never had he seen her drink to the point of slurring and stumbling. Retrospectively, it was kind of his fault. She had teased him that she could drink him under the table any day. He insisted that, even though he never drank, his body mass compared to her petite frame would make it easy for him to beat her in a drinking contest. As she sat the first pair of shots down in front of them, she reminded him she was Irish, and the rest was history.

He had to admit, the woman could drink. Every time he flicked his head back and let the amber liquid poor down his throat, it took every fiber of his pride to keep from visually wincing. She, on the other hand, took each shot like a champ, displaying no discomfort whatsoever. Initially the only sign she actually took the shot was the flush that spread across her chest.

After the sixth shot he was feeling pretty buzzed, when he turned to tell her so, he saw she was resting her head on a bended arm, giving him a lazy smile.

“I think I’m ready to concede Scully, I don’t want to let myself get too forgone.”

“I toldja I’d w-win,” she gloated, adorable hiccups breaking apart her slurs.

Mulder felt a grin spread across his face when he realized his normally-reserved Scully was absolutely drunk.

“I may have conceded, but if we evaluate who the drunker is here, I believe that would be you my dear,” he mused, earning him a girlish giggle.

“Whatever you s-say Muldy.” She raise herself from her slouch and moved to rest a hand on top of one of his own. “Muldy, will you dan-ce with me. Just this once? Pleeeassee,” she drew out the last word and jutted her bottom lip out in a pout.

He laughed at his new nickname and couldn’t say no to that face. He grasped the hand that had been clutching onto his and prompted her to stand with him. As soon as she stood up, he was supporting most of her weight. Her head rested on his chest and she swayed on unsteady feet.

“I’m not sure if dancing is in your ability range at the moment,” he laughed, relishing in the normally forbidden contact.

“That’s-s okay. We can jus’ rhythmically hug. I like this,” she disentangled her hand from his and hugged him around the middle, grinning into his torso.

“Rhythmically hug?” He laughed, but didn’t put up any resistance. He crossed his arms on her shoulder blades and rested his cheek on the crown of her head. He was enjoying the swaying even though he wasn’t sure whether it was the ‘rhythmic’ part or the hug or if it was just impossible for her to stay still.

They stayed like that for a while until he felt her drooping more and more in his grasp. Taking a glance down to look at her face, he noticed she was starting to fall asleep.

“Scully?” He nudged.

“Hmmm?”

“Let’s go outside, I’ll get us a cab so I can take you home.”

“Okie dokie Muldy.”

Now, here he was carrying a very inebriated Scully, bridal style, up to her apartment. She was out like a light as soon as they got into the cab, and it took some skill and balance to get her out without waking her up. Mulder had to admit, of all the times he’s imagined a scenario like this, she wasn’t a limp sack of potatoes in his arms. And he wasn’t taking her to bed for sleep.

It took a bit longer than usual, but he was able to unlock the apartment door, pull back the covers, remove her heels, and tuck her into bed. He didn’t know if she’d be mad that she slept in her dress, but he wasn’t going to violate her privacy by changing her.

“Goodnight, Scully,” he whispered after pressing his lips to her forehead in a gentle kiss.

As he turned to leave, he felt a small hand reach out and grab onto his fingers. Turning around he met her gaze through sleep-hung lids.

“I love you,” she sighed with a smile.

His heart jumped to his throat and he brushed some stray hair behind her ear. “I love you too Scully, and I always will.”

He left the room with a final smile that took hours to leave his face.

He couldn’t help it. When it can to Scully, he would be eternally devoted.

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