#scullysexualwrites
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You're Never Just Anything To Me (6)
@today-in-fic | ao3 | Prev. Chapter
A look into Mulder and Scully’s relationship starting from Millennium going all the way up to Requiem.
VI. Signs and Wonders.
He wakes naturally. Devoid of the usual sluggishness comes with a 6:30 start. The sun appeared brighter, what beams peak through the slight break in the curtain, unusual for this time in April.
Scully is dead weight next to him, Mulder knows even the alarm clock struggles to wake her up. She is bare and warm next to him in his bed, on a school night. He still smiles thinking of how he convinced her to stay over on a Wednesday and he didn’t need broken heaters or traumatic events this time.
He thinks about that alarm and frowns, he doesn’t remember waking up to its annoying sound.
And he quickly realises why.
08:47 glares back at him in big red letters. He stares in horror as the last digit flips to an 8.
“Oh shit!”
The relaxing morning he thought he was going to have has now been bulldozed over by panic and chaos. He pulls on his boxers and the pants from yesterday that had been discarded on the floor the night before. Still bare chested, he leans over, furiously trying to shake Scully awake.
An impossible even when they weren’t running late.
Scully shrugs his hand away from her, rolling away from him. He sighs.
“No Scully, we have a meeting today, you’ve gotta get up,” he says trying to rouse her.
“5 minutes…” she answers but the end trails off as she falls back under.
“No, no minutes.” It was 08:53 now. “You’ve got 7 minutes to get up and get to work.”
That works. She flips over, eyes wide.
“We’re late?” she asks horrified.
Mission accomplished, Mulder climbs off her and starts trying to locate his shirt.
“Yes!”
She rips back the covers and immediately darts into the bathroom, taking her neatly folded clothes with her (because he watched her fold her clothes last night and laughed at her while she did. “It’s a pointless task, Scully,” he’d told her) He couldn’t even appreciate her naked body because he was still trying to find his shirt. So much for pointless tasks…
He's found it when she emerges and it’s 08:57.
“This is your fault,” Scully says. She brushes her hair as they make their way to the elevator.
“What did I do?” Mulder asks. He spams the elevator button. “The clock was on your side, you were in charge of setting it.”
“I’m not even supposed to be here.”
When they get to the parking lot they realise their next problem.
“I don’t have time to get my car,” she says with fear.
Not that it mattered anyway. Her car was still in the FBI garage because she went home with him.
“Get in,” Mulder says, he still holds the door open for her. “Maybe we’ll get there on time.”
But it was already 09:02.
…
The budget staff were growing increasingly restless.
Skinner glares at the two vacant chairs. Perhaps if he burns a hole into them his two truant agents might just appear.
Of course that doesn’t work.
He looks to the clock that reads 09:09 and then back to the staff.
“I’ll see if I can locate them,” he says.
He has Kimberly call both their home phones and cell phones. All four of which go through to voicemail. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried. Mulder was often late, that part didn’t concern him. It was Scully. In the six years he’d known her, she had never been late to anything, often arriving before anyone else had even got there. If she wasn’t here it usually meant she wasn’t here.
He sticks his head out into the long corridor looking both ways, still seeing nothing. The elevator doors opening grabs his attention and he sees his two missing agents fly out of it.
“We’re here! We’re here!” Mulder yells and Scully trails behind him.
First is the relief that spreads through him. They were still alive, thank god. Next, it’s frustration.
“You were supposed to be here…” he looks at his watch. “…11 minutes ago, Agent Mulder. Both of you.” Scully uncharacteristically cowers, moving slightly to hide behind Mulder. “What happened?”
“A kid got run over.”
“We got stuck in traffic.”
They both speak simultaneously. Skinner just stares at them.
“One at a time perhaps?” he says.
“A kid got ran over,” says Mulder.
“We got stuck in traffic,” says Scully.
Skinner sighs. He doesn’t exactly believe them but what cause would they have to lie. Then he properly looks at them. He doesn’t pay attention to what people usually wear but he’s sure he saw them wearing those clothes yesterday.
“A kid got ran over and we got stuck in traffic because of it,” clarifies Mulder.
“Both of you?” asks Skinner.
Mulder nods.
“Don’t you live in opposite directions? Take different roads?”
He watches as Mulder and Scully look at each other. Yep, they were definitely holding something back.
“They’re waiting for you now, sir,” Kimberly utters behind him.
The meeting Skinner remembers. He’ll interrogate them later. For now. He opens the door and lets them in. Kimberly opens the other door for all three of them. They sit down and the meeting can finally start. Skinner tries to pay attention but his focus keeps going over to the other two. Somebody asks him a question but Skinner doesn’t hear it. Is that a hickey on Mulder’s neck?
…
“A kid got ran over?!” Scully almost yells as she pushes her way into their office. “You couldn’t have just said what I said?”
“Next time we need to plan our excuse,” says Mulder tossing his blazer to the side and sits down in his chair. “Do you think Skinner knows?”
Scully laughs. “Skinner definitely knows, Mulder.” Scully sits in the guest chairs facing him. “Question is, when he is going to ask us about it.”
“What makes you think Skinner will ask us about it?”
Just then there’s a knock on the door. Scully goes pale. Mulder stands, tepidly making his way to the door. He lingers for a moment wishing the office door came with a peep hole.
“It’s me, Mulder,” Skinner’s voice sounds through the door.
Without any other option, Mulder opens it. “Sir,” he greets. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
Skinner steps in, closing the door behind him. He stands about awkwardly. The basement always felt crowded when there was more than two people in it or maybe Scully had just become used to her and Mulder being the only occupants.
“I’m not stupid,” Skinner says and Scully clutches the edges of her seat. “I’ve heard the rumours.” Scully eyes meet Mulders. They both know just what rumours Skinner is referring to. “I need to know, off the record, for the…safety of everyone involved…Are the rumours true?”
Mulder and Scully look at each other again, each waiting for the other to proceed and take the lead.
“You can lie, of course, but I know there was no kid ran over,” he looks at Mulder. “Or traffic to be stuck in,” he looks at Scully who immediately looks away. “And your clothes and that…mark,” he looks so incredibly uncomfortable. “give cause to say that someone wasn’t alone last night. Now if it was with other people then that is your business but if you spent it with each other then, unfortunately, it becomes my business.”
Scully thinks, wondering just what she should say. There’s no point in lying, he’s pretty much sussed them out but how to confirm it was another matter.
“Off the record?” asks Mulder, he looks briefly at Scully. Of course he was doing this for her sake. Mulder’s made it clear in the past that he doesn’t care who knows about their relationship, it was always her that had issues.
“Yes,” says Skinner.
“Yeah, the rumours are true.”
Skinner looks to Scully for confirmation. She nods, smiling awkwardly. She wonders, for a second, if he might congratulate them, if he might grab a chair and exclaim ‘Finally!’, asking for all the details but one look at him and seeing his face have the faintest tint of pink covering it tells her otherwise.
“Very well,” says Skinner beginning to make his way back towards the door. “Thank you for being honest with me.” He has the door open now and coughs. “I need your expense reports by noon,” he says and it’s business as usual. “The budget staff are requesting it.”
“Of course,” says Scully happy now that that conversation is over.
Skinner nods them farewell, still looking from one to the other awkwardly, before he leaves and Mulder closes the door behind him. Listening as his boss’s footsteps get further away he turns towards Scully, grinning.
“Now he knows does this mean we can have sex in the office now?”
Scully just glares at him.
…
“So Skinner knows now, huh?”
They stand in the FBI garage, another workday behind them, and only one more day to go before he can finally have Scully back in his bed. They stand at their respective cars, Scully having made it very clear that she didn’t want a repeat of this morning.
“He does,” Scully agrees, tossing her bag into the front passenger seat.
“How do you feel? I know you wanted to keep quiet…”
“Honestly? Relieved actually.”
“Really?” That surprises him.
“Yeah. It feels less like we’re teenagers trying to hide our relationship from our parents and more like actual adults.” He smiles. “Besides we can’t hide it forever. Oh, that reminds me.”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t do Friday.”
His stomach sinks. “What? Why not?”
Friday is their night, what else could be so important that—But Scully is smiling, brightly, like she can barely contain it.
“I have an appointment. About my ova,” she adds at Mulder’s questioning look. “To see if it’s viable.”
“Well shit, Scully…” A grin forms onto his own face then. “That’s great. You’ll tell me what they say, yeah?”
“Of course.”
They climb into their own cars then and Mulder watches as she pulls out and drives away. His stomach twists. He was happy, of course, for Scully, she’s wanted a baby for as long as he’s known her but the thought of him being the father…His own father wasn’t very good, he couldn’t even keep his little sister from being taken. What if he’s just as bad with their baby? What if he’s just bad?
…
He itches to call her. He bounces his basketball instead.
It’s Saturday morning, at this time he and Scully might have just woken up, another hour would pass before they ordered breakfast, half hour before they found themselves back in bed again. It was a routine he’d gotten use to, every Saturday (unless on assignment in which case that still wouldn’t stop them) she would be here and today she wasn’t.
The ball bounces out of his hands and Mulder sits down. He grabs the case they’re currently working on- some religious thing- and tries to focus on that instead.
About 10 minutes into reading the case there’s a knock on the door. Mulder frowns, the Gunmen maybe? He walks over to it and opens it.
And there stands Scully.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi.”
She doesn’t seem distressed, she doesn’t seem angry or upset. She seems…content.
“Are you gonna let me in?” she asks with a knowing smile.
“Of course.” He pushes the door open wider and moves out the way. “I didn’t think you would be here today,” he says shutting the door and putting the latch back on it.
“I was bored.” She spins around to look at him. “I thought about calling but I wanted to tell you the news in person.”
Was it what he thought it was? Mulder makes his way back to the couch. He sits though Scully remains standing.
“Dr Parenti thinks there’s potential.”
A smile breaks out across his face. “Scully, that’s amazing.” And Scully can’t contain her own smile any longer.
“Yeah, it is. It really is.”
They stare at each other, smiling for a few minutes longer.
“Uh…Dr Parenti said we could start right away. That’s if…you’re still interested?”
His smile fades as does hers, a worried look crossing it.
“Scully, I—”
“It’s fine,” she interrupts. She bites her lip and he can see her trying to keep the disappointment, the tears at bay. She’s got it wrong. “I knew it was a big ask, I just thought…”
Mulder shakes his head, standing up from the couch and going over to her. He holds her in his arms. She still spirals.
“Scully,” he says more firmly to stop her rambling. “My answer is still yes.”
She stops suddenly then, looking at him. “But I thought…”
“Sit down. Please. I think we need to talk.”
She does so, sitting down beside him, far enough away so they can see each other easily. It’s so unusual for them not to be touching that Mulder reaches out and grabs her hand, pulling it towards him.
“Scully…I have my fears,” he says watching as his fingers circle her palm. “My own father wasn’t very good and I don’t know if I’ll be the same…”
“Mulder?” He looks up at her then, sees the love and understanding in her eyes. “We’ll figure it out together, okay.”
Because of course they will. They do everything together. He nods and she leans towards him, kissing him. Mulder pulls her closer and she sits in his lap facing him, their usual Saturday routine.
He lets himself get excited about the prospect of a baby. Wills his fears away, riding solely on Scully’s strength and belief that he’d be a good dad. He can picture it; a child with fire for hair and a forest landscape for eyes, a perfect combination of his reckless curiosity and her cautious inquisitiveness. He hugs her to him, his head resting on her chest as her hands stroke through his hair. He believes in this possibility.
Later when the sun is hanging low and she is quiet and sleepy in his arms he brings the subject back up.
“It was never a big ask, Scully.”
“What do you mean?” she asks.
He’s quiet for a moment and his silence makes her look up at him.
“I guess…I think there’s a end in sight, Scully.”
“You mean with the X-Files?”
“Yeah. A natural end, not one brought on by higher ups or office fires.” He sighs and Scully hangs on to every word. “I think it’s an end of my choosing- our choosing- It feels right.”
It’s Scully’s turn to be quiet as she takes it all in.
“What about Samantha?”
He thinks of the clones, of the little girls in the field, of the visions Cancer Man handed him.
“I think there’s a universe out there where she’s happy, where she is loved.” He looks at Scully with a soft smile. “I think I can believe that. I think that’s what I want to believe.”
She smiles back at him.
“It’s not gonna stop me from going looking for Big Foot or aliens or whatever.” She laughs, affectionately rolling her eyes. “But I think the main quest, the main search…I can see an end. I think I’m ready to get out of the car.”
Scully sits up, moving to straddle his hips. Her lips touch his, kissing him slowly. The car stops and Mulder climbs out, the door locking itself behind him.
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scullysexualwrites --> queequegwrites
scullysexualwrites was practical but it doesnt sound right
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Five Times Mulder and Scully Shared A Bed (1/5)
i. Irresistible.
Mulder places the phone back on the receiver and trudges his way back to the car where Scully waits.
“Anything?” she asks, half asleep, as he enters the car. Scully leans against the seat, eyes fighting to stay open, her face still cut and bruised from her encounter with Pfaster. She should be home now but there were no flights available until tomorrow.
“Nothing,” Mulder answers with a shake of his head and a sorry smile. “But the manager was helpful, at least. He found another motel not too far from here that says they have rooms.”
“Let’s try there then,” Scully says tiredly.
A No Vacancies sign flashes neon at them as they pull into the parking lot. Mulder bashes his fist against the dashboard, anger, frustration and his own tiredness coursing through his body. He looks over to Scully, who’s face has also fallen at the sight of the sign.
“Maybe we should ask,” she suggests.
They undo their seatbelts and try their pitiful luck.
“Sorry, no space at the inn,” the manager from behind the desk calls as soon as they enter.
“We can sleep in a barn if you have one,” Mulder half jokes yet part of him remains serious if it means he can stop driving.
“Seriously,” the manager says.
“Seriously,” Mulder repeats back. “You don’t have anything?”
The manager’s eyes fall onto to Scully who lingers near the door, staying out of the way. His eyes frown.
“What happened to her?” the manager asks unceremoniously.
Not wanting to get into it, Mulder avoids the question.
“We were told you had rooms and based on all the empty spaces out there, I think you do.”
Clearly not getting his answers, the manager sighs and pulls open a drawer.
“I have one,” he says, throwing the key on the counter. Mulder quickly grabs it. “One,” the manager specifies. “The door is busted but if you’re that desperate you can have it.”
Mulder turns to Scully to gauge her opinion but she looks too tired to care.
“We’ll take it.”
It’s the lock that’s busted, it turns out but with the windows locked and a chair up against the door, they make do.
The room is just a room. A bed and a little corner table. That’s all. There’s not even a bathroom.
“Sorry I couldn’t find anything better Scully,” Mulder says whilst eyeing up the floor- his sleeping space for the night.
“It’s fine,” Scully mumbles. She’s already pulling back the covers on the bed.
“Could I have a pillow?”
Scully frowns. “Why? The bed is big enough for us both.”
Mulder pauses. He considered but after everything… “Are you sure?” he asks.
A pillow is thrown at him.
“Do whatever you want, Mulder.”
He looks at the pillow, then at the floor, then at the bed. A questionable stain on the carpet makes his decision for him and he makes his way to the unoccupied side of the bed.
He thinks nothing of it until he’s laying next to her. Sharing a bed with Scully. He can feel the heat from her body, her presence, her smell. He becomes aware of how big he is, how much space he just might be taking up. He moves to the edge, just to be sure she has enough space.
He’s so tired he can’t sleep. Scully’s breath evens out beside him and he’s envious at how quickly she can fall asleep. Then he repents that envy as it’s replaced with guilt. She’s just been through hell, he recalls.
Mulder shuts his eyes, wills his body to relax and let the sleep overcome him. He’s teetering on that edge when something touches his arm and he’s yanked from that almost slumber. He looks down to see Scully, her body curled around him on his little edge, all the space behind her. Her breath against his bare arm is soothing, little rhythmic puffs off air set up a gentle beat for him to fall asleep.
When the light shining through the see-through curtains wakes him up, Mulder panics when the space beside him is cold and empty. They took her again, is his first thought and he rips back the covers to haphazardly throw on his clothes and track her down.
The door opens and Scully emerges with a soft smile. The cuts not as red, the bruises not as new. He relaxes at the sight of her, throwing his own little smile towards her. He realises then how he slept the whole night through, she didn’t wake up- or at least he didn’t hear her. Did he ignore her cries, he wonders.
“How did you sleep?” he asks, his stomach knotting at the thought of her answer.
“Very well actually,” she answers, a little frown forming across her eyebrows as if she too has just realised she didn’t wake.
He thinks of how she curled up against him, her breath against his arm calming him down. Did he calm her too?
“We should go,” Scully says and Mulder realises that she’s dressed already. “The manager says there’s a flight to DC.”
Mulder nods and collects his clothes off the floor. He walks into the communal bathroom to get dressed, a smile on his face.
@today-in-fic | ao3
#the x-files#the x files#txf fic#xfiles fanfiction#five times m/s shared a bed series#post irresistible#scullysexualwrites
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a continuation of this. @today-in-fic
mentions of emotional/physical abuse.
“No, Mommy!” Emily cries, trying to squirm away from Dana’s hand. They are in the bathroom of a Walmart, a wet paper towel sits in Dana’s hand as she attempts to wash the dirt and grime of the past few days from her daughter’s face. The five year old has none of it.
“I have to clean your face, baby,” Dana says quietly. Truthfully, she doesn’t have the energy to fight with Emily today. She was exhausted; the stresses of her living situation catching with her.
Last night they had camped in the parking lot of the Walmart whose bathroom they were currently using. It was another cold night and Dana had barely slept. Despite the overnight parking sign, Dana had still been worried somebody would come along and throw them out even if she deliberately parked in the corner furthest away. That, however, had also come with its own issues: no streetlights. So while one half of her had worried about getting kicked out, the other half worried about getting her car broken into while they slept.
Emily, thankfully, had had no issues falling asleep. It was the daytime she struggled with. Unsimulated, bored, Emily’s tantrums had been getting worse lately. So far Emily had ripped one of her books apart and the corner of her tablet had a crack in it from when Emily had thrown it onto the parking lot’s tarmac. Dana tried not to get angry at her child, she was probably feeling the stress too now.
“Why can’t I go home and have a proper bath?” Emily asks.
Home. Every day Emily asked to go home. Every day Dana told her they couldn’t.
“Home isn’t safe anymore,” Dana tells her again.
“Daddy puts bubbles in my bath and let’s me play with as many ducks as I want.” Emily’s head lifts, almost challenging Dana to compete with her precious daddy. She hears what Emily doesn’t say. You keep me in a car all day and try to wash my face in stinky toilets.
Dana knows this already. She would listen as Ethan bathed Emily hours after a fight, like nothing had happened, meanwhile Dana would clean up the mess left behind.
She doesn’t tell Emily the other things Ethan does or says like how angry he becomes when he drinks or how she and Emily are the reason his life is so shit.
Well, they were out of his life now, Dana wonders if it was going any better for him.
Dana tosses the paper towel into the trashcan. She brushes her teeth and then disappears into the cubical to pee. She gets Emily to sing a song with her so Dana knows she still there and it’s during this time that something catches her eye. A leaflet sticks halfway out of the sanitary bin. Dana yanks it out as the lyrics to Wheels On The Bus trail off from her lips. Emily stops singing, too.
“Mommy, where did you go?” Emily cries.
“I’m still on the toilet, baby,” Dana answers though she is distracted looking at the leaflet. It’s a job ad; some time of nanny agency. Babysitting, Dana thinks. There’s a number on the bottom. An ideal striking, Dana gets off the toilet. When she opens the cubical, the leaflet still in her hand, Emily looks at her with relief.
“You took too long,” she says accusatory.
“I’m sorry,” Dana apologises. She shoves the leaflet into her bag and washes her hands.
“Can we go home now?” Emily asks.
“Soon.” Dana helps Emily off the counter and she takes hold of her hand, leading her out of the bathroom.
…
Dana listens as the phone rings, Finding Nemo plays in the background, Emily’s little laughter escaping her mouth as she watches. The phone rings five times and Dana is sure nobody is going to pick up. She’s about to give up when the ringing stops, there’s a slight pause, and then a woman’s voice rings through.
“Happy Nest Nurseries, Ellie speaking, how can I help?”
The voice on the other end takes Dana back a bit and she stutters slightly before she speaks.
“Hi, um…I’m Dana Scully. I was wondering if you had any positions available?” She bites her lip with trepidation, watching Emily through the rear-view mirror.
Ellie sighs. “I’m sorry, we don’t have any places, right now.” Dana’s heart sinks. Ellie goes quiet again and Dana hears the hustle of the phone being moved. There’s a conversation happening between Ellie and somebody else but Dana can’t quite catch the words. Finally, Ellie’s voice sounds through again.
“Actually, Monica says she might have something. Could you come in today?”
Dana smiles, happy and wide. “Yes! Yes, I can.”
“Great,” says Ellie. “I will see you then.”
They exchanges goodbyes and Dana starts putting the car into gear. The sound of the engine coming to life causes Emily to look up from her tablet.
“Are we going home now?” she asks.
“Not quite. Mommy has somewhere she needs to be.”
…
It’s only when she gets to the offices- the address listed on the leaflet and confirmed during a quick phone call to Ellie again- that Dana realises her appearance doesn’t exactly scream interview ready. She looks as tired as she feels, has aged about 10 years in three days. When she untangles her hair from the hair tie it falls down mattered and greasy, in need of a good wash, her curls in need of a reset (or a pair of straighteners) She finger combs through the ends, yanks out a giant knot with a wince, then reties her hair, this time into a ponytail. Then she pulls open the glove compartment in the hopes of finding a stray lip gloss tube in there. After rummaging around she finds not only the lip gloss but mascara, too, along with that a broken comb, couple of random receipts, a lighter, half a pack of cigarettes, Ethan’s ‘lost’ driver’s license- the memory of the day he lost that forever burned into her mind- and a teething toy from when Emily was a baby. Suffice to say, just about everything was in this glove compartment.
Dana shoves everything put the lip gloss and mascara away, she’ll deal with that junk another day. The uses the sun shield mirror and applies the products, immediately looking and feeling better about herself. She turns to Emily then.
“Emily?”
Emily remains half engrossed still by her tablet. “Hmm?”
“I’m about to speak to some very important people. I need you to be on your best behaviour, okay?”
“Can I bring my tablet?”
Dana sighs. When she was pregnant with Emily she didn’t want to become that parent who handed their child a phone screen to keep them quiet. In fact, she had been very against the idea, upholding it whenever she could. It was Ethan who ruined that one. When Emily was two years old he handed her his phone and it had been that way ever since. It wasn’t the first time Dana tried to implement rules and restrictions that would get thrown out the window by Ethan a few hours later. Bubble baths and unlimited ducks one of them. There was a reason Daddy was the favoured one because he gave whatever Emily wished, Mommy was just mean.
“Yes but you’ll have to put on your headphones.”
Emily pulls the headphones out of her bag and puts them on, forgetting to plug the wire into the tablet. Dana laughs and climbs out, reaching back into the car to unbuckle Emily and plug the wire in. Dana guiding a screen-hypnotised Emily, they both walk into the office building.
…
She meets Ellie at one of the desks. The girl wearily eyes Dana and Emily before smiling that fake customer facing smile.
“Maria will be in her office. Follow me.” And Dana does, following Ellie to the end of the hall. Two knocks and when a voice on the other side of the door bids them entry, Ellie opens it.
“Dana Scully is here to see you,” says Ellie.
“Send her in,” says the voice.
Ellie opens the door wider and Dana walks into the room.
“You can go now, Ellie.” And Ellie does so, closing the door behind her.
The woman- Monica- does a once over of Dana.
“I’m sorry,” Dana says immediately. Between the looks Ellie gave her and now the looks Monica is giving her, she knows she isn’t making a great first impression appearance wise. “I just didn’t intend on coming here today.”
“That’s okay,” says Monica. “Who is this?” she asks with interest and a big smile at the sight of Emily.
“My daughter, Emily—” Emily is oblivious, her eyes still glued to the screen. Dana looks wearily towards the other woman.
“You know, a lot of our clients don’t like giving screens to children,” Monica says in a tone that is gentle but still conveys a certain amount of warning.
“I know. And I don’t usually like it either but she’s so restless, she’d only be pilfering through your stuff, she’s very curious. The screen gives her something to focus on, it keeps her quiet, it…” Dana trails off. She knows she isn’t making much of an effort to defend herself, coming up with excuses here and there. “I just needed her to be quiet for now,” Dana says honestly. “I try to restrict her screen time.” A half lie, she did try when she lived with Ethan.
“Sit,” says Monica. “Let’s have a little chat.”
The woman guides the two of them over to the chairs at her desk. Dana helps Emily onto her seat before sitting down herself. Monica watches, beady eyed. When everyone is settled, Monica speaks.
“I don’t often do this but we’ve had a client seeking a nanny recently,” explains Monica and Dana hangs on to every word. “She’s desperate, almost, and we’re fully booked. Or we were, until you called. Now, we will have to do background checks, make sure you’re legit, it’ll take about three days but if everything comes back clean, which in most cases it does, the job is yours. Would you like it?”
Dana can barely believe it. She smiles brightly and nods.
“Yes, of course.”
Monica smiles back. “Great. Let me get you a form.” She wanders over to a filing cabinet and pulls the top drawer open. Dana takes her chance.
“Um…I wondered if I could also get a proof of employment in those three days as well. I’m hoping to get onto a housing list.”
Monica pauses and sighs. “Unfortunately Dana, you have to pass your probation before we can give you anything like that.”
Dana’s heart sinks once more. “And how long is the probation?”
“Three months.”
Dana gawks. Three months! She can’t live in her car for three months. She looks away, willing herself not to cry.
“I also have to ask what you intend to do with Emily when you’re at work. We’re you intending on taking her along too or do you have somewhere to put her, someone she can stay with?”
“Would she be allowed to come with me?”
Monica sighs again. “It’s not advised. You’re protected under insurance if anything was to happen to you while at the house. Emily, however, would not be. It is a risk.”
Dana looks at Emily then. Who knows what type of person this client could be. She could be risking Emily’s safety taking her with her. But where else could she go? To go back home would mean seeing Ethan. Family is…tricky. Melissa isn’t cut out for caring for a child- not to mention if she’d be in any state to even do so- she hasn’t spoken to her parents since Emily’s fifth birthday and that ended in an argument between her and her father, Ethan’s mother despises her and while she loves Emily she’ll only accept Emily if Ethan is the one dropping her off. There was one last person, the only one who has actually offered any support for Dana in the five years she’s been a mother but she too comes at a risk.
But, depending on hours, a risk Dana was willing to make.
“Yeah,” she says. “I have someone she can stay with.”
“Brilliant,” says Monica. She hands the form to Dana. “Fill this in as quickly as possible.”
…
Diana Fowley is the name of the woman who’s kids she’ll be looking after. Two boys: William who was the same age as Emily and Arthur who was three. Simple. Easy. She can do this.
Diana is a lawyer and, according to Monica, going through a divorce. It’s messy, the father’s contact with the boys is limited to weekends or whatever reason and originally, he was the stay at home dead while she was the breadwinner. Now this divorce has meant Diana has to look at other options.
Dana can’t help but compare this father to Ethan. She could never imagine Ethan as a stay at home parent- that was relegated to her- for pride mostly but also for controlling reasons. If Dana has no income herself then she can never leave, forever dependant on Ethan for a home, for financial support. She wishes she could see his face now. I got a job, Ethan. Turns out I’m not as stupid as you made me think.
Not that she was ever stupid. She has a quarter of a physics degree, had a direct path into medicine. A doctor she was going to be, a heart surgeon of all things. She was Emily’s age when she decided that that was what her career was going to be. She had it all worked out: married at 30, a kid two years later. Only the marriage never came, the kid nine years too early.
Dana doesn’t regret Emily, she doesn’t blame Emily for how her life has turned out. Emily is her entire world, Dana just wishes she hadn’t been 21.
“What do you want to be when you grow up, Emily?” Dana asks as they drive down a suburb.
The tablet is still on, now playing Ratatouille.
“A chef!”
This would be wonderful news if, when Dana asked her a few days ago, Emily hadn’t replied with dentist because she was watching Finding Nemo. She expects her daughter’s answer would’ve been a superhero if she’d been watching The Incredibles. But whatever path her daughter choices, Dana just hopes she’s able to become whatever she wants.
Her stomach twists as the house looms in front of her. Bill’s house she thinks as her hands squeeze the steering wheel. No, Tara’s, Dana corrects. If she stays it’s Tara’s house then it is a lot less daunting.
“Where are we, Mommy?”
“You’re going to spend the day with Auntie Tara, baby.”
Emily recoils.
“I hate Auntie Tara!”
“Emily!” Dana admonishes, spinning around. “You don’t hate anyone. Auntie Tara loves you. She wants to see you.”
Tears come to Emily’s eyes as she furiously shakes her head.
“I don’t want to!” the child cries. “I don’t like Auntie Tara. I want to go home! I want Daddy! Why won’t you let me see Daddy?!”
Dana sighs preparing herself for another Emily tantrum.
“Take me to Daddy!” Emily’s foot kicks the back of Dana’s chair. “I want to see Daddy!” Kick. Daddy. Kick. Daddy. Kick. Daddy.
Dana closes her eyes, focuses on her breath, breathing in and out, in and out. She reopens her eyes.
“Emily,” she says quietly, not rising to her daughter’s level. “I need Tara to look after you today.”
“Why can’t Daddy?”
“Daddy’s busy.”
“But I haven’t seen him in years!”
She reminds herself that it’s only been a week.
“I know and we will see Daddy soon but for now, I need you to go with Auntie Tara until Mommy gets back, okay?”
“Where are you going?”
“I told you, Mommy has to go to work.”
The concept was baffling to the child.
“But you stay at home…” Emily says with a frown.
Dana smiles. “Not anymore. We need to find a house—”
“We have a house- Daddy’s house.”
Dana unbuckles her seatbelt and climbs out of the car. She opens Emily’s door, unbuckles Emily, and kneels down in front of her.
“I need you to listen to me, Emily. Daddy is a bad person. Do you know what a bad person is?”
Emily nods. “They hurt you.”
Dana nods in return. “They do. That’s what Daddy did- he hurt me. He almost hurt you.” She wipes a stray tear from her child’s face. “So I got us out of there. That is why we can’t go back home, we can’t go back to Daddy. I’m gonna get us a new house where nobody can hurt us but I need you to stay with Tara so I can do that. Do you think you can do that?”
Emily pauses, thinking it over hard as if she had any choice in the matter.
“Daddy was shouting and you were crying.” Emily frowns as if trying to remember. “And something hitted my head.”
Dana nods again, tears now coming to her own eyes. She thought maybe Emily would have forgotten that night. Clearly not. “It was a glass cup, baby. Daddy threw a glass cup and it almost hit you.”
Emily’s eyes widen. “Why? Did I do something wrong? Do I make Daddy angry?”
Dana’s heart breaks a million times over, the gravel currently cutting into her knees didn’t hurt as much as this. She gathers Emily into her embrace.
“No, baby girl…” She breaths in her unique Emily scent. “You don’t make anybody angry. Daddy meant to…” She stops herself. Daddy meant to throw it at me she almost says. “He didn’t mean to throw it at you. But it did get you so that’s why we had to leave.”
“Daddy let’s me have bubbles and ducks in the bath.”
Dana smiles despite having nothing to smile about. How difficult to must be to understand that the Daddy who gives Emily bubbles and ducks is the same Daddy who screamed at Mommy, made her cry, and threw a glass cup.
“I’ll tell you what,” Dana proposes, pulling away and looking at Emily once more. “If you stay with Tara now, when we get our new house, you can have all the bubbles and ducks you want.”
“I want a duck bedroom. Painted yellow. With little ducks like Quacky.”
Dana sniffles, giggling through her tears. “You can have that as well. You can have anything you want.”
Emily smiles, tears and tantrums over. Another tear falls from Dana’s own eyes and Emily reaches forward, wiping one away.
“Don’t cry, Mommy. You can have bubbles and ducks, too.”
In that moment, every single thing Dana has endured feels 100% worth it if it meant Emily got to be here. She pulls Emily back into a hug.
“I love you, baby girl. So, so much.”
“I love you, too, Mommy.”
Dana presses little kisses all over Emily face until the child laughs and squirms away. Then she stands and Emily resumes watching her movie. Dana knocks on Tara’s front door.
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You're Never Just Anything To Me (11)
@today-in-fic | ao3 | Prev. Chapter
A look into Mulder and Scully’s relationship starting from Millennium going all the way up to Requiem.
XI. Theef.
A baby grows inside of her. She touches her still flat stomach and can feel its life force beneath the skin.
“We should move,” says Scully. Her mind has wandered again, thinking of scenarios where they are successful. Her latest appointment with Dr Parenti had brought her more hope that this IVF route could work.
“We should move in together, get a house.”
She feels Mulder freeze beneath her.
“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice laced with uncertainty. The sound of it tugs her chest and Scully sits up.
“Of course. Are you okay with that?”
A massive grin breaks out across his face. “Of course I am, Scully. I’d love to move in with you.”
Her own smile breaks through. “Not far, though. Somewhere close to my mother and work so you don’t have to waste unnecessary time commuting in.”
“What about you?” he asks.
His face has fallen slightly and this, Scully had spent the past couple of weeks thinking about.
“I think I’d go back to teaching.”
Mulder nods but his mood has shifted slightly. He seems disappointed. He looks away.
“Hey,” Scully says, her hand on his face, bringing his attention back to her. “I’ll still be there to argue against your ridiculous theories.” It restores the smile on his face. “And you’ll see me at home.” Home. Their home.“And then you won’t get sick of seeing me.”
“I never get sick of seeing you.”
They spend the rest of the night talking about it, all properly for the first time. Talking about it earlier felt taboo, like they were going to jinx something (not that Scully believes in jinxes or anything of the kind) but this was something she didn’t want to tempt. Now, she is so sure she has nothing to worry about. For the first time in a long time there is excitement, there is hope, something to look forward to.
…
It feels like the flooring of the hospital has given out beneath her.
The words take a moment to process fully and when they do, they hit her like a ton of bricks.
I’m sorry, Dana. There was no success this time.
No success.
There is no baby. There is nothing growing inside her. No baby to hold or nurture later on, nothing to tether her and Mulder together. There will be no house.
Scully wails. Folds in on herself on the floor of the hospital and wails so loud she disturbs the other patients. Dr Parenti stands there looking on, detached and emotionless, not even human.
…
Mulder spins the ring between his fingers.
He only got here an hour ago but it felt like he had been waiting a lifetime.
The front door clicks and Mulder jumps, hastily shoving the ring into the pocket of his jeans. Scully emerges and instantly Mulder knows something is off. His heart beats wildly in his chest, his stomach shrouded in anxiety.
“It didn’t take, did it?”
She shakes her head and crumples before him. Mulder can’t tell what hurts him more- the knowledge that it didn’t work or the way she falls apart in ways he’s never witnessed before.
He pulls her into his arms and she goes with no struggle, completely engulfing her in his embrace. He is crying, too. Before now, he never realised just how much he wanted it and how much he wanted to be the one to give it to her. He would give her the entire world, wrap it up in a little bow if she asked, but he can’t even give her something as simple as this.
“There has to be other ways,” he says, immediately searching for a solution. “Adoption or surrogacy, or…something.”
But Scully shakes her head. “There’s nothing. That was my last and only chance.”
He doesn’t want to believe that this is the end.
“But adoption, Scully.” He thinks about all the kids they’ve encountered on their cases, parentless the majority of them there, how they would attach themselves to Scully (and even sometimes himself) longing for a parent to care for them. “So many kids who need love and you can give it to them, they can become as much as ours as any biological—”
She shakes her head, pulling away from him, tear-stained cheeks and red-eyes. She looks exhausted. She looks hopeless.
“They didn’t even let me adopt my own child. They would never let me near somebody else’s.”
“But that was different. It’s the two of us now, you won’t be a single mother—”
“Mulder, stop.” He does stop, he comes to a sudden halt. “I don’t want to hope anymore. All it does is make you hurt.”
She pulls away from him completely then, floating away towards her bedroom. Mulder stands, feeling robbed of everything, watching the door to her bedroom close gently behind her.
…
Her period arrives and it paralyses her.
It’s flow unpredictable every time, this time she bleeds through and stains her sheets. She can do nothing but watch as Mulder changes the sheets at 2am, red-eyed and groggy.
Scully changes in the bathroom, her abdomen cramping painfully. She tries to dissociate from it all, opening the cabinet and pulling out the packet of paracetamol as if it wasn’t her doing it.
There’s a rap against the door.
“The bed is ready, Scully.”
She takes one pill and then the others. She thinks about taking a third, a fourth, a fifth, taking the entire packet until the pain all goes, until she feels something else.
There’s another rap.
“You okay in there, Scully?”
She exits the bathroom only having consumed two pills. She holds a hot water bottle in her arms, filled and warm, and looks at Mulder sitting in her bed.
“You might as well go Mulder,” she says as she climbs in. She keeps her back to him, her distance from him and seeks the hot water bottle out for comfort instead. “Find somebody else who can give you whatever you want. I’m broken.”
His arms fall around her and as much as she wants to pull away her body is a traitor and nestles into him instead.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “You’re what I want.”
She sinks further against him and his lips press kisses along her shoulder and neck. She’s so tired, the energy completely drained from her that she closes her eyes, begins to drift off…
“Marry me.”
She thinks she made it up.
She startles awake.
“What?” Her body turns towards him.
“Marry me.” Even in the darkness she can see his pleading eyes. “Please.”
Her mind is full but she can’t form her thoughts to make sense.
“I…”
She watches as he recedes into himself.
“It was stupid, just ignore it,” Mulder dismisses.
But she can’t, he has said it now.
“One day,” she promises and Mulder nods.
His hands join hers at her stomach, pressing the hot water bottle into her skin, holding it like the baby they can never have.
“Never give up on a miracle,” he whispers into her ear.
Scully closes her eyes, a thief steals their baby.
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You're Never Just Anything To Me (2)
@today-in-fic | ao3 | Prev.Chapter.
A look into Mulder and Scully's relationship starting from Millennium going all the way up to Requiem.
II. Rush.
“Would you like to come over tonight?”
“Mulder, it’s a Wednesday,” her voice shrills through the phone.
“Well done, you know the days of the week,” Mulder says with a massive grin, hoping the convey the joke through the phone.
She grows quiet and he thinks for a second that he’s overstepped the mark and offended her but then her voice sounds again.
“Shut up…” she says but he can hear her smiling.
“Seriously, so what if it’s a Wednesday? I miss you.”
“You saw me three hours ago.”
“Yeah, too long ago. What’s wrong with coming over? I stayed over on Monday.”
“Yeah and look at how much scrambling around we had to do to make sure we got to work on time. Separately.”
There was a lot of fumbling. Alarms going off an hour before they usually would. He had to get home, shower, change his clothes, and drive to work. They also kept getting distracted. Well no, he kept getting distracted, trying to convince her to skive off work and stay here and have sex all day. Scully shot that idea down immediately and his distractions had meant he only had an hour to get home, do his thing, and get himself to work.
“Bring some things with you, shower here, and we’ll go to work together.”
She laughs. “Then they’ll definitely know we’re sleeping together.”
A thrill runs through him hearing her say sleeping together. That’s what they were doing after all. Even weeks later from that first night on New Years Day and he still couldn’t believe it. He grins like an idiot.
“They already think we’re sleeping together. Does it really matter if they know?”
“Of course it matters, Mulder. There’s a reason it’s…frowned upon. You know they’ll split us up.”
She’s right. They might even take her away from him. Permanently. No, he couldn’t have that. Will not have that. Not now. Not ever.
Scully sighs. “I think we need some rules.”
“What? Why do we need rules? Rules are boring, they get in the way.”
“And for good reason,” she says. “Workdays are for work things. Weekends are for us. Okay?”
Mulder nods to himself. “Weekends are for us.”
“I’m glad we understand.”
“But does that mean I could, theoretically, invite you around through the week and say I had a case to discuss with you and if one thing led to another we wouldn’t technically be breaking your rules because I invited you around to look at a case?”
He hears her exasperated sigh and smiles. “Mulder, stop trying to find loopholes already. But yes, you could invite me round to go over a case through the week.”
Mulder listens, wanting to hear more.
“But Mulder.”
“Yes?”
“You keep your hands to yourself.”
…
He starts living for the weekend. Starts counting down the days, even hours, till he can have Scully in his arms, her mouth on his, her body beneath him. When Work Stuff melds into Us Stuff.
He finds himself unable to wait until Saturday. When Friday rolls around he can barely contain himself. He glances towards Scully every moment he gets and she does well to ignore him, to get on with their boring end-of-week paperwork unaffected by whatever has affected him.
It's 1:37pm, his lunch half finished on his desk when he finally asks.
“So…” Mulder begins and Scully looks up at him from her salad. “Since tomorrow is a Saturday and not a workday that means Friday nights aren’t school nights.”
“What is it you’re asking, Mulder?”
“Can Friday nights count as the weekend?” he chokes out desperately.
She smiles to herself. “Always searching for a loophole,” she says more to herself than him. Then he watches as she thinks it over. “Yes. Okay.”
“Starting today?” She looks at him aghast. “Please,” he pathetically begs.
Scully sighs. “Starting today.”
Mulder lasts until 4:46pm. Those last 14 minutes are tortuous. He’s stopped typing his report, he can’t remove the images of what he plans to do to Scully tonight from his mind. He looks over at her. Since his question at lunchtime he’s noticed she’s become a bit more restless, her foot tapping incessantly against the footrest of her chair. She remains more focused than himself, still scribbling away at expense reports but the calm, collected, in control person of this morning is slowly starting to unravel.
“Scully?”
She jumps up like she’s been shocked, slamming the accounting book shut with more force than necessary.
“My place,” is all she says.
It’s 4:52pm.
…
They barely make it through the front door.
Scully had wanted to throw the weekend rule away as soon as she mentioned it but listening to Mulder try to loophole is way out of them only made her resolve more certain. Rules were necessary. They needed to not get caught out.
His lips crash into hers and Scully gasps as he picks her up, holding her between her entry way wall and his body. She thought about putting a plant here, the space looked so empty and sad. Now she realises it would just get in the way. The space has a purpose: them.
They don’t even take their clothes off properly.
The waiting, the anticipation, counting down the days and the hours until they could devour each other again had gotten the both of them pent up with energy. It was like all the other years only this time they knew it was going to get resolved and that just made the energy between them stronger.
Scully unbuckles his belt, undoes the button on his pants. Mulder pulls her tights off, pushes her skirt up, and drags her underwear to the side.
He’s thrusting into her with no time wasted. Scully’s head falls slack against the wall, withering and moaning as Mulder ploughs into her at a hurried pace. It’s quick, hard, and slightly erring on the rough side as her lower back is constantly being slammed into the wall by his eager hips. There’s embarrassing wet sound emitting from between her legs but Scully can’t bring herself to care as she crests over the peak. She becomes dead weight in his arm only perking up slightly when she feels the surge of Mulder’s cum rush inside her.
They fall to the floor and don’t move for what feels like hours.
…
Perhaps he could get used to this weekends only thing. It only seems to serve them in the long run.
They had sex three times in about as many hours. Pouring an entire workdays week worth of sexual escapades into one night, probably because they both know it’ll be another week before they can do it again.
Food has been ordered and there’s about an hour delay, not that either of them are complaining. Their night is quite simple; sex, nap, sex, eat, nap, sex, more sex, sleep. They don’t talk about work. They don’t talk about future cases. They don’t talk about what happens if it’s the weekend and they’re on a case and staying in a motel.
Mulder doesn’t ask because it’s a weekend and even if they aren’t at home surely that means this won’t be put on hold.
But looking at Scully, thinking about her rules, there’s a vague thought that it just might.
Scully was hovering somewhere around his legs, near his groin. She had gone to the toilet and he expected her to return to his arms, to continue their post-coital nap. Instead she had disappeared halfway down the bed. He had no idea what she was doing.
“You have a pretty cock.”
Mulder’s eyes burst open. “Excuse me?” Said pretty cock becomes alive.
“It’s pretty,” states Scully doing nothing to elaborate on her original statement.
Mulder swallows as she trails her finger from base to head. Now his dick was really starting to wake up.
“Uh, thanks…I guess?” He’s never had someone compliment his penis before.
“It’s the nicest one I’ve seen,” she mutters to herself.
Mulder doesn’t like to think about Scully having sex with other people, seeing their cocks. It draws up mixed feelings for him. On one hand, the idea of her with anyone but himself as a course of jealously surging through him. On the other hand, it turns him on. A lot.
Then he frowns. “Scully…what are you doing?” Because her hovering her face around his cock had his thoughts going elsewhere.
“Huh?” she asks, looking at him with confusion.
“Why are you just looking at my dick?” He catches a look in her eyes and is quick to placate it. “Not- not that I don’t appreciate you calling my dick…pretty I just…You’re there and…”
“Oh..” it dawns on her then just what is question was. “Well…I was gonna ask because you asked me on New Years Day but then I didn’t know if I needed permission but then what if you didn’t like that and I should’ve asked and…” She was rambling now. Something he’s known her to do when she’s scared or anxious about something. He gently interrupts her.
“Oh I like that, Scully.” She looks at him still unsure. “As for permission…consider it granted. You no longer need to ask from this point forward.”
She smiles, reassured. “Okay.” She moves so she’s between his legs and Mulder waits, holding a breath as she holds him gently at the base.
The first touch of her tongue, the heat of her mouth, has his eyes rolling back into his head. He clenches the duvet so as to stop himself from grabbing her. He let’s her do her thing, explore him with her tongue. The newness in it, the inexperience with his cock in particular spreads a loveable warmth through him. He loves her. He loves her so fucking much.
“Fuck, Scully…” he breathes and Scully hums around him. The vibrations coursing through him. He’s close, so dangerously close. He wants to come in her mouth but it’s their first time and what if she doesn’t like that…Now he was rambling, spiralling, all the while feeling his balls tightening. He’s seconds away from blowing.
His hand unclenches the covers, finding her, tapping her, trying to gain her attention.
“I’m gonna—”
Her eyes widen in realisation. She pulls her mouth off him and pumps him the rest of the way. He finishes it, his cum spilling all over stomach.
Mulder lets his orgasm settle as Scully scampers off into the bathroom. He hears the sound of a faucet and closes his eyes trying to calm himself down.
He jumps at the contact of a warm cloth against his stomach, eyes reopening and finding Scully.
“Sorry,” she apologises shyly but continues to gently clean him up like he usually does with her. His heart grows bigger.
“I didn’t know if you wanted me to…” He coughs trying to find the words. “If I was allowed to…”
She smiles at him sweetly. “Consider this permission to come in my mouth next time.”
Mulder is dumbstruck as she wanders off to the bathroom again. She said it so sweetly, so innocently yet the words that came out of her mouth were not sweet or innocent.
He loves her so much.
He almost says it when she emerges out of the bathroom and climbs back into the bed, snuggling down beside him. He stops himself at the last minute, bites his tongue to keep the words from falling out on their own accord. Instead he squeezes her against him, presses a kiss to her hairline and hopes his actions conveys what he longs to say.
…
“Mulder…” she warns for the third time.
“I’m not doing anything.”
Mulder stands incredibly close to her, the front of his body flush with the back of hers. It’s unnecessary given the amount of space behind him. He’s doing this on purpose.
“I know what you’re trying to do,” she says.
“And what am I trying to do?”
His hands touch her hips, she can feel his bulge pressing into her lower back. He’s doing what he’s been trying to do all week.
“No, Mulder.” She pulls herself away.
“Please,” he begs, desperation on his face. “It’s been a fantasy for so long. Just this once.”
This is what she was worried about. Us Stuff getting mixed in with Work Stuff. They have to keep them separate. They can wait until the weekend.
But it was only Tuesday and even with the addition of Friday night falling into ‘weekend’ it still felt so far away.
This was proving difficult for both of them.
“What if someone comes down here?” she asks eyes straying to the office door.
“Who comes down here?”
“Skinner?”
“Skinner’s been down here once and that was just to throw my resignation back in my face and tell me it was unacceptable.”
“You handed in your resignation?” Scully asks surprised.
“No, I just told you Skinner threw it back in my face.” He shakes his head. “You’re changing the subject. No one comes down here, Scully. No one cares.”
“No, Mulder.” She can’t do it. She can’t let the lines be blurred. “Rule Number Two—”
Mulder let’s out an exasperated groan.
“No sex in the office,” she yells above his groan.
Mulder pulls away from, sitting back down in his chair and looking at her like a child who’s just been denied ice cream.
“It’s my most frequent fantasy,” he mutters with pity to himself.
Scully sighs. “Do you have your report. I’m going to give it to Skinner.”
He yanks the papers from the printer and smacks them down onto her hands looking every bit like a spoilt child.
Scully can’t help her grin at his behaviour.
“Hey,” she says gently and Mulder looks at her with hope in his eyes. “Friday. We can act out any fantasy you’ve ever had.” His eyes light up and he thinks he’s won. Scully quickly adds. “At home.”
She makes her way towards the door, smiling as she hears him mumble and grumble about how “Home isn’t the office now, is it?” She shuts the door behind her, shaking her head but still smiling.
Then a dark thought overcomes her and makes the smile fade. Did he and Diana do it in the office? No! She can’t think like that, it didn’t matter. Diana was gone, 6 feet in the ground, Mulder has made it clear to her that Diana was history.
But still, Scully couldn’t help but wonder if he was constantly comparing herself to the other woman.
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You're Never Just Anything To Me (10)
@today-in-fic | ao3 | Prev. Chapter
A look into Mulder and Scully’s relationship starting from Millennium going all the way up to Requiem.
X. First Person Shooter.
Scully forgets that The Lone Gunmen are Mulder’s friends, first and foremost, and that all three of them just happen to be equipped with some very useful skills that help them out every so often.
The Lone Gunmen seem to forget that she and Mulder are FBI agents. Or they don’t seem to care, Scully isn’t sure which. When she asked why they like them so much Langly at replied “Because you’re cool FBI”, with an adjunct from Frohike “And because you’re hot” meaning her specifically. Scully had liked that (Langly’s reason, not Frohike’s) Cool FBI.
She hopes she is being Cool FBI now as she ignores the way her stomach twists. She was being Bad FBI and there’s a sudden thought that she was about to get into trouble, that somebody was about to bust through the eight-locks system and adorns The Gunmen’s front door and shout at them all for smoking weed. It makes her terrified. It also makes her laugh out loud.
Mulder brushes up against her. Surprisingly, the cannabis relaxes him, it slows his ever racing mind, makes him slow and sluggish. She loves her Mulder just as he is but this version is a nice reprieve every now and then.
“Hi,” his says sleepily. He snuggles into her, a hand touching her thigh. She can feel the warmth of his hand even through the layers of clothing and it sends a buzz through her.
“Hi,” she greets back.
“You okay?” he asks.
Scully giggles. “Yeah.” Then she looks towards the front door again. “We’re gonna get in trouble.”
“We won’t. We’re in the safest place in the world right now.”
And they are. This little hole with its eight-lock security system, cameras everywhere outside, little intercom system. There’s a TV in the corner displaying the outside right now. It is void of people. There’s no one on the other side of that door and there never will be.
“Want another one?” Mulder asks and Scully shakes her head.
“I want a bath.”
…
This bath is the best thing ever. It’s full, it’s warm, she put too many bubbles in it but she doesn’t care because bubbles are the best thing invented. The leans back, shutting her eyes. She could fall asleep in here.
“Don’t fall asleep,” Mulder mumbles. His head is resting against his arm which rests against the rim of the tub. His other arm is submerged in the water, lazily pushing waves back and forth. Occasionally, his fingers will brush her thigh and she’ll feel that buzz from earlier.
“Get in the tub with me,” she tells him.
“I thought you didn’t want me in there?”
That’s what she had told him when he tried to take off his clothes and join her. “This is my bath, Mulder” she had said but then when he went to leave she wanted him to stay.
“I changed my mind.”
She watches him strip. When he is finally naked, he waits, looking at her expectantly. She isn’t happy about having to move, lifting herself up takes more effort than necessary and he has barely got himself comfortable before she is leaning her head against his chest.
“This water is boiling, Scully,” Mulder says. “How are you not burnt?”
She is. She imagines when she gets out in a hundred years she’ll be as red as a lobster.
“Don’t you dare put any cold water in!”
Mulder chuckles. “I know better than to do that.” So instead he’ll sit, slightly uncomfortable, in a bath too hot for him. All for her. She loves him. So much.
She feels his fingers on the insides of her thighs. They trail up ever so close to the space between her legs but just as they get within reach, they descend back down. Scully lets him do this a couple of times, it is nice after all, the slow teasing, she lets herself get riled up with it.
He touches her then, suddenly, unexpectedly. Scully jumps at the contact as his fingers slide through her folds, she sighs softly.
He is lazy with it. The word that comes to mind is sensual. He is sensually touching her. It’s nice, it’s pleasant but she needs more, she moves her hips and the water threatens to spill over.
“That’s what I was avoiding,” Mulder says into her ear but Scully can’t bring herself to care about wet floors.
The fingers of his other hand brush against her clit, the fingers inside her are more pronounced, they thrust in and out of her with more force. Her hips move in tandem and water sloshes over the edge. Mulder his hard against her lower back and her hand clench around his lower arm. She is close, she just needs a little longer.
Then it all stops.
He has pulled his hands away completely.
“Mulder…?” she asks, a little dazed, a little disappointed.
He pushes her up and off him and Scully has no idea what is going on, what has made him react in such a way. She is lost. She is on the verge of crying.
His cock is pushed inside her. Scully grips the edges of the tub, slippery where the water has been. She is full and he sheathed completely inside her.
They start to move and Scully keeps her hands on the rim as leverage, Mulder’s hands clutch at her hips. She can hear him, feel him- his hands on her, his legs beneath her, his cock inside her- but she can’t see him. She closes her eyes, imagines what it would be like to be blindfolded, for all her other senses to pick up the slack for her body’s missing sense. Then she wonders what it would be like if she couldn’t touch him either. She shivers thinking about it; pictures herself chained to her bed while Mulder fucks her hard.
The thought pushes her over, she clamps down hard on his cock, her orgasm ripping through her. Mulder follows not long after, her post-orgasmic spasms milking him into her.
The water is sullied, the bubbles all gone, the water growing cold and their skin pruning. Mulder pulls the plug and bundles her up into a towel. They fall onto her bed half wet and sleepy. Scully doesn’t tell him about her fantasy.
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You're Never Just Anything To Me
@today-in-fic | ao3
A look into Mulder and Scully's relationship starting from Millennium going all the way up to Requiem.
Based on this post.
Prologue: The Unnatural.
The phone rings just as he gets through the front door. He takes his baseball jersey off, tossing it onto the back of the chair before reaching over to grab the phone before it can go to the answering machine.
“Hello?” Mulder answers.
“Hi, it’s me,” says Scully sounding uncharacteristically shy.
Mulder grins, sitting himself down on the couch and leaning back. He imagines her sitting by the phone, watching the clock and counting down the minutes it takes for him to drive from her apartment to his own, waiting for the right moment to call him.
“Hey, is everything okay?” he asks.
“It’s fine. I, uh…just wanted to say that I really enjoyed tonight.”
Mulder smiles, feeling the warmth spread through him at the memory of their evening.
“And I also wanted to say that I forgive you.”
Mulder leans forward, holding the phone tightly to his ear.
“I didn’t intend on missing you’re actual birthday, Scully,” Mulder says. The guilt of doing so still lingers even five months later. “I just…lost track of the days. I know it’s no excuse, I just…You know how I get.”
There’s a pause before she says quietly, “I do…”
“And then there was that undercover case and you seemed so pissed off at me.” Scully scoffs though she disguises it pretty well with a laugh. “Rightfully so,” Mulder adds quickly. “And then we just got hit with X-File after X-File and…your birthday card still sits on my mantle piece. I felt guilty every time I looked at it.”
“Is this how you came up with tonight?” she asks.
“Sort of. I’ve been wanting to do something for a while, to make up for my poor planning.” He pauses for a second. “Did it work?”
“It did,” Scully answers. Mulder grins from ear to ear. “And it also got me thinking about other things,”
Mulder’s ears prick up. “Oh yeah?”
“About your…offer.”
Mulder’s stomach twists waiting, his heart beating wildly against his chest as he waits silently.
“My answer is yes.”
He swallows, unsure if he’s heard correctly.
“Scully…”
“But—”
Mulder waits once more, clutching the phone.
“We take it slow. I don’t want to rush into anything. I don’t want to screw anything up.”
“Of course,” he says finally letting a out a breath. “Of course, we can go as slow as you want.” He can’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. “Scully, I…” He wants to say he loves her but does that count as too fast? “I promise I won’t miss another birthday again. Or anniversary, or anything like that.”
Scully laughs through the receiver. She, too, sounds lighter, like she’s free of everything holding her down.
Mulder starts looking around for his calendar and then realises he doesn’t own a calendar.
“I’ll buy a calendar,” he says. “Give me some dates and I’ll write them down in big letters. I promise I won’t forget anything ever again.”
“Okay,” Scully answers, the hint of laughter still in her voice.
“I won’t let you down,” he says, suddenly needing her to know. “I’ll treat you right and we’ll go at your pace.”
“Okay,” she says again and he can hear the belief in her voice. “I’m going to go to sleep now. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Right, tomorrow was Monday, a new work week.
“Yeah. Yes, you will.”
“Goodnight, Mulder.”
“Goodnight, Scully.”
The dial tone sounds and Mulder leans back against the couch, phone still stuck to his ear. He felt different, lighter, an entire weight taken off his shoulders.
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You're Never Just Anything To Me (9)
@today-in-fic | ao3 | Prev. Chapter
A look into Mulder and Scully’s relationship starting from Millennium going all the way up to Requiem.
IX. X-Cops.
Since discovering the truth about Samantha, their relationship had evolved, changing for the better. Mulder no longer felt hunkered down or constantly obsessing over the event which took place almost 30 years ago. Scully no longer felt she was going to lose him. Work was as normal as it had ever been- they were still witnessing horrors and the paranormal on a weekly basis- but at home, they could really discuss their future together without the fear that it never happen. Skinner had also kept true to his word, never uttering anything about their relationship as long as they kept the personal away from the professional which they did, they found a easy balance between the two.
The ring still sat in Mulder’s drawer, he still hadn’t asked. He wanted to wait, when they learned that the IVF has worked, when they are overjoyed and smiling, after they fall into bed and believe the baby was conceived the natural way, that is when he’ll ask.
“When’s the appointment again?” Scully asks, the hairdryer in her hand. She waits until he’s answered before she turns it on.
“At 9:30. I’ll go into work late,” he answers. It was his first meeting with Dr Parenti today and, for some unexplainable reason, he felt nervous.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Scully had asked this when they first made the appointment. It felt unnecessary for her to go, she would only be waiting around.
Now, Mulder gives her the same answer. “I’ll be okay,” he says. “You go to work. We don’t want Skinner thinking we’re both skiving off.”
Scully grins. “No, we don’t.” And their conversation ends with the loud whirling of the hairdryer.
He sees her out the door when it’s time to go.
“Don’t have any fun without me,” he says smiling.
“If I ever could,” she replies back and Mulder knows she means it.
…
He is taken to a private room by one of the nurses and is given an opaque cup.
“Hand it in when you’re finished,” she says all professional.
Mulder nods and enters the room. The door is closed and he locks it. In the room there is a bed, a chair, and even off to the side a small bathroom. He opts for the chair, hoping the familiarity of a seat rather than the bed would make this easier for him. He closes his eyes, thinking back to this morning.
He had woken her up with his mouth on her breast. He couldn’t help it, the way it peaked out above the covers when she had rolled over. Scully let out a little breathy sigh, her hand coming to comb through his hair as he moved over to her other breast. She had stayed like that, dozing in and out of sleep while he made her body come alive.
His fingers dipped into her folds between her legs, feeling her wetness coat his fingers.
“It’s half 6 in the morning, Scully,” he says in surprise, two fingers venturing inside of her.
“Women go through cycles of arousal, too,” she answered sounding a little breathy.
He pulls his hand away from her, eliciting a small whine from Scully that he smiles at. He rolls her onto her back and positions himself between her legs.
There is no resistance, her body welcoming him into her. Her legs wrap around him and he can’t believe it, even after all this time, that this is Scully, his Scully, and that he gets to have her like this, love her like this, be with her like this.
Back in the little hospital room, Mulder furiously pumps up and down, he can feels her around him, the incredible heat of her, the perfect squeeze of her, her lips and her tongue in his mouth, on his neck. His balls clench and he comes, remembering at the last minute to aim into the cup.
His heart rate slows as he stares at the cup in awe. This is a baby, he thinks. Their baby.
…
Scully had had a very boring day. She had heard more rumours about an audit, as she had been hearing all year, but they were starting to get harder to ignore. Finally, she had asked Skinner and while her boss didn’t confirm the rumours, he didn’t deny them either.
It made her anxious and with nothing to do, no Mulder to distract her, Scully found her thoughts wandering. She reclines back on his chair, her bare feet propped up on his desk and stares at the pencils embedded in the ceiling tiles, counting down the minutes until Mulder returns.
There’s activity outside, the door is pushed open and Scully pulls her feet off the desk, slipping them back into her heels, and sits up straight.
Mulder gives her a weird look.
“Do you often make yourself at home when I’m not here?” he asks her, taking off his coat.
“Always,” Scully nods. She returns to feet, bare footed once again, to the top of the desk. “You gonna make me move?”
His eyes are dark. He sits down in the chair opposite. Her feet are near him and he reaches out to scrape the back of his nails down the centre of her sole. It tickles and her foot flexes in response. She coughs.
“How did the appointment go?”
“Pretty well,” he says, turning his attention back to her. “I thought about you.”
Scully feels herself growing hot but she tries to ignore it.
“Really?” she asks though she isn’t surprised.
“Yeah. I thought about this morning.”
“Did you?”
He nods. “And other mornings. And then I went to your apartment.”
This piques her interest.
“I took a shower and I thought about you again.”
She pictures him in her apartment, in her shower, masturbating to the thought of her. Did he squirt some of her body soap into his hand, did he come against the shower wall to the thoughts and smell of her. Scully adjusts herself in her seat, her can feel herself growing wet at the thought.
“I thought about you here,” he says and his voice is lower, his hand is back on her foot and the contact has Scully jumping. “I thought about what I would do to you in here.”
Of all of her rules, office sex was the one she had yet to allow be broken. She looks to the door. Lunchtime on a Tuesday afternoon people would probably be busy. If anyone wanted them (and really, who would) they would call down first.
“Lock the door,” Scully commands. Her throat feels dry and her heart pounds in her chest at what they’re about to do.
Mulder’s eyes widen and then are suddenly filled with triumphant glee as he bounds out of the chair and towards the door, taking out his keys and locking the door. He keeps his key in the door for extra measure.
Scully is about to ask just how he had pictured this. She knows it’s been a fantasy for a very long time- longer than he probably thinks she knows- but this is her rule and she has made the decision to break it, they’re going to do it her way, starting with his stupid desk.
She stands from the chair and moves around to the front of the desk. Mulder watches her, barely breathing, unable to move for fear this might be a mirage and one slight bit of movement would make the whole thing disparate.
Scully pulls off her underwear and sits on the edge of the desk. She spreads her legs slightly and can practically see Mulder salivating.
“What are you waiting for?”
He bounds towards her, his hands going for the belt unbuckle on his pants. She waits until he’s undone it and is about to move to the button of his pants before she stops him with a shake of her head. Disappointment is on the cusp and she points to the floor beneath her.
“Get on your knees,” she tells him and he does as she orders. She opens her legs wider and it takes no more commands for him to understand what she wants. His mouth is on her centre immediately.
Scully cries out at the first touch of his tongue. Doing it in here, on this very desk sends her into overdrive. She doesn’t want to lose the control but she can’t help but move her hips against his face, can’t help being loud when she knows she should probably not be. She wants to mark this desk, wants to come all over it, stain it as proof that she was here, has always been here, she wants Mulder to see it every day and be reminded that she belongs here too.
Her eyes open when he sucks her clit into his mouth. His fingers has joined his tongue, three of them, and they pump in and out of her. His other hand is around his cock, pumping in time to his thrusting fingers. It all sends her over.
She white-knuckles the edge of the desk, coming and coming and coming. There’s a hot rush, she hears Mulder’s “Holy shit!” as he briefly moves his mouth away only to place it against her again, licking every ounce of her up.
There’s a puddle on the desk and on the floor. Mulder is still kneeling between her legs, his dick now flaccid, his mouth covered in her. Scully falls back onto the desk, her legs still open, the tremors still running through her body.
“Holy fucking shit, Scully,” says Mulder. He zips himself up, he stands between her legs and leans down over her. “That was fucking incredible. Can we do it again?”
She doesn’t think she has another orgasm in her. She doesn’t think she’ll ever have one in her again but hell yeah does she want to do that again.
“Later,” she answers. “I need a minute.”
…
“Okay so what are we watching?” Scully asks as Mulder hands her a beer.
He was so happy he had won Rock, Paper, Scissors this week. Scully had been on a running streak for the past three and he was worried she would take this from him as well. As it transpires, his scissors cut her paper and he couldn’t be happier.
“It’s a bit different this week,” he says picking up the TV remote.
Scully looks at him with caution. “It better not be porn,” she warns.
Mulder laughs. “I haven’t watched porn in months. I’ve got you.” He smiles, a full teeth showing smile, at her.
“I’m flattered,” she answers dryly. “So what we are watching?”
He switches on the TV and normal TV starts playing. He begins flicking through, trying to find the right channel. He’s timed it just right as the Cops theme tune starts playing.
“No!” Scully says instantly. “No, we’re not watching this.” She goes for the remote but Mulder holds it out of reach.
“It’s only fair. I won this week, I get to decide what we watch.”
She is half on him, trying to reach the remote. “Mulder, I am breaking up with you right now.”
“Scully, you look great on TV,” says Mulder and Scully turns to find herself on the TV.
“Mulder!” she yells.
“Those cameraman loved you, Scully. They couldn’t get enough of you.”
She’s given up on her attempts to reach the remote and sits, grumpily, in the corner of the couch, far away from him.
“Because I was antagonistic,” she says with a pout and eyeing the TV as if it was the worst thing she’s ever seen. Then she softens. “I forgot the part where we almost got arrested. That was your fault.”
“I didn’t know they were there,” Mulder says defensively.
Scully smiles. “It was fun, though.”
“Yeah,” Mulder agrees. Then, “Definitely showing the kid this.”
“You wouldn’t?!”
“I would! Look child, Mommy and Daddy are famous.”
Mulder pauses then as the show goes to an ad break. He realises what he just said. A smile crosses his face, a similar one crosses Scully’s.
“I like that,” Scully says quietly.
He looks at her, for the first time seeing the mother of his child.
“Yeah, I like it to.”
He arranges another appointment with Dr Parenti the next day.
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m | ao3 | @today-in-fic
Mulder grasps at her hips, turning her onto her stomach. As he does so he sees the red snake and a flash of anger surges through him stopping his movements.
The bastard tattoo…
[In which Mulder and Scully have a little chat]
I Liked It But I Didn't Enjoy It.
No one gives head like Scully. Not Alex or Phoebe. Not even that girl he met a few weeks ago.
Mulder resurfaces from sleep just before the familiar tug in his balls as his come ripples through his cock and spurting down her throat. What a glorious way to be woken up.
Mulder lays back, eyes closed, breathing heavily as he lets himself calm down. When he reopens his eyes he catches the sight of Scully wiping the corners of her mouth before stretching her deliciously naked body, lost in Scully-Land.
He's missed this so much. Missed her so much. His chest aches thinking about those weeks without her. He was an idiot.
He’s still gazing at her even as he grabs her attention with a simple “Hi.”
The smile she gives him is enough to make his body combust right there.
“Hi,” she greets back.
An idiot he may have been but even he can’t ignore their break apart has done them some good.
“Come here,” he whispers and Scully follows, crawling back up his body to situate herself on top of his stomach. His skin feels moist and when she moves slightly he spies a smearing of wetness. His hands grip the top of her thighs.
“And what’s got you so wet, Scully?” he asks.
His hand reaches out towards her centre, a singular finger delving between her folds. A heavy sigh escapes her lips as her muscles clench around his one finger.
“My cock just tastes that good, huh?”
A thumb touches her clit and she whines, clawing at his chest.
Fully hard once more, he pulls his hand away much to Scully’s disappointment and rolls them over. Completely, wonderfully overwhelmed he buries his face in her hair and ruts his hips against her. He wants her in every which way possible, wants to be inside her before he dies.
Mulder grasps at her hips, turning her onto her stomach. As he does so he sees the red snake and a flash of anger surges through him stopping his movements.
The bastard tattoo…
“I think I saw Scully in the tattoo shop the other night,” Langly had told him a few days after. “She had some random man with her. What the hell happened between you to?”
“…was gloating about how he fucked your girl the other night.” Alex says over the phone one night. “He said he’s never met anyone else like her before. How wild she was, how good she at giving head- we both know that though, don’t we…” His laugh twists Mulder’s gut. “Still swears he won’t touch used goods though he’d always make the exception for her again.” When Mulder didn’t answer Alex asked, “You good, man? You gone quiet over there…”
Eventually Mulder had given in to temptation and stalked the man and what a lowlife he turned out to be.
“What you doing with someone like that, Scully?” he’d muttered to himself.
“Mulder? Are you okay?”
His stillness had caught the attention of Scully. There’s the look of worry and guilt across her face. Without a word Mulder slides his hand across the silky skin before pushing his fingernails into the tattoo. Scully’s breath catches in her throat.
“Got something to feel guilty about, Scully?”
She immediately schools her features. “No.”
Mulder looks down at the tattoo and releases his hand, soothing the nail marked skin.
“Ask,” Scully is saying still looking towards him. “Go on. I know you want to.”
He keeps his gaze on her tattoo, following the circle with his finger.
“Where—”
“On one condition,” she cuts in.
“Yeah?”
“I get to ask about you after.”
He thinks on it for a second then, “Okay.”
“Okay,” she repeats. “Ask.”
Eyes falling back to the tattoo, he does ask.
“Where did you do it?”
“On the floor. His apartment.”
We did it in the alleyway, we’re still winning.
“Was he rough?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you like it?”
When she doesn’t answer immediately he squeezes her hip hard making her draw a gasp.
“You know I did,” she says finally.
He thinks about other stuff to ask but she speaks again.
“But I didn’t enjoy it.”
“Huh?”
“I did like it. It did stuff to me and I didn’t want him to stop but I didn’t enjoy it.” She pauses and Mulder waits. Finally she speaks again. “He hated me.” It’s spoken at a whisper, hard to catch at first. “Like you hate me now.”
His stomach coils. “Scully…” he says, panic gripping him. “I don’t hate you.”
His words have her turning to face him and one look at her tearful eyes and tear-stained cheeks has him disgusted with himself.
“Really?” she asks.
“Hey…” He moves off her to the side, moving up and stroking her back soothingly. “Of course not. Do you think you’d be here right now if I did?” She shrugs. “Well you’re here, aren’t you?” She nods. “There you go.” He brushes her hair away from her face a few times. “You’re infuriating sometimes but I don’t hate you, Scully. You’re the best thing I have.”
She smiles a little at that. “Mulder?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you fuck me like you were going to?”
“You sure?”
She nods. “Yeah.”
He shuffles back between her legs, grabs her hips and rolls her back onto her back. It’s not exactly what he had in mind before seeing the tattoo but he knows he has to see her face right now. There’ll be more times for other positions later anyway. He lines himself up and pushes his way in. Whilst she’s not as wet as she was prior their conversation there is little resistance. He laces their hands together and squeezes, trying with everything he had to show he doesn’t hate her in the slightest.
When they’re both finished he holds her as close and as tight as possible. They’re just about to drift off when he realises he never fulfilled his end of the bargain.
“You can ask about her if you want,” he says.
“Who?”
“The girl I fucked.”
“Oh. Who was she?”
“Her name was Kristen. I think she’s a vampire.”
“Vampires aren’t real, Mulder.”
“Well she was one. Anyway, I liked it but I didn’t enjoy it either.”
“Why not?”
“Because she wasn’t you.”
And that was the end of that. No more was said on either subject. Mulder waits until Scully’s drifted off before he closes his eyes himself.
#the x-files#the x files#txf fic#xfiles fanfiction#80 days of smut#smut prompts#kinktober23#msr#mulder/scully#scullysexualwrites
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You're Never Just Anything To Me (7)
@today-in-fic | ao3 | Prev. Chapter
A look into Mulder and Scully’s relationship starting from Millennium going all the way up to Requiem.
Trigger warning: self harm (it's not graphic but it's there)
VII. Sein und Zeit.
PART ONE.
He receives a phone call a little after 6pm Tuesday night. At first Mulder thinks it’s Scully but when it’s his mother’s voice that sounds through instead, he’s a little taken aback.
“Mom? Hi. Is everything okay?”
It is, fortunately. Though a little strange for her to call him so suddenly, her next request is even stranger.
“Are you free this weekend?”
Weekends are for him and Scully, he thinks.
“Uh…maybe. Why?”
“I’d like you to visit,” his mother says. “If you’re free, of course.”
Mulder thinks it over. He could bear a weekend away from Scully and he’s sure she wouldn’t mind.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll come up.”
“Wonderful,” his mother exclaims. “I’ll see you then.”
“Yeah, see you…” The phone dial tones and Mulder stares into space wondering what this could be about.
…
He tells Scully about his weekend trip to Connecticut.
“That’s great, Mulder,” she says with a genuine smile. “I have stuff to do this weekend anyway so you should go.”
“Yeah…” he says though his mind is still trying to read between the lines. He accepted ages ago that he wasn’t going to have much of a relationship with his mother- it was too murky, she had kept too much to herself. He was prepared to go at it alone.
“She probably just wants to see you.” He is forced out of his thoughts by Scully who is still looking at him, responding as if she’s just read his mind. “I wouldn’t look too much into it.”
…
When the front door is opened, his mother immediately hugs him.
It’s strange to receive any form of comfort from her and Mulder is taken aback. It takes him a moment to process, to wrap his own arms around her.
“Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine,” she says pulling away. His stomach twists as he regards her, the way she doesn’t quite meet his eyes, it’s like she’s holding something back. “I just wanted to see you.”
Mulder calms his worries. Scully is right, she’s probably just trying to make up for lost time. They sit down on the couch and talk. Mulder waits for the moment when she’ll open up, tell him what is on her mind, she never does. Yet as the time moves on Mulder begins to grow more comfortable, he finds himself liking it, enjoying her company. He doesn’t think he’ll ever see her as his mother, not quite, but a close acquaintance, possibly.
They agree to make this in person meet up thing semi-regular, to be planned around his work, his life, Scully (though he’s yet to tell her about that, another time) It is Sunday and Mulder makes the drive back home. It likes this. He could get used to this.
…
On his third visit, he mentions Scully. It only made sense with their plans to try IVF, him becoming a father would make his mother a grandmother. She deserves to know.
“That’s great, Fox,” his mother says sounding genuine. “She sounds like a good one.”
He smiles, thinking about Phoebe and Diana- both of whom his mother met. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Yeah, she is.”
“And marriage?” Teena asks. “Surely you’re not just thinking about impregnating the woman and that being that?”
Mulder balks. Not at the idea of marriage to Scully- he could actually think of nothing better- but because he’s never really thought about it before. They’ve never discussed it, Scully’s never once brought it up. But yeah…Yeah, it’d make sense.
“You can do a lot more for her as her husband than you could otherwise.”
He’s in his mother’s room searching for the engagement ring where she said it would be. He finds it safely encased inside a separate jewellery box. Mulder regards it: a silver band, the diamond in the middle. He stares at it, imaging it on Scully’s hand. Scully doesn’t wear rings, she spends too much time in the chest cavity of a corpse to wear rings, she told him once but he can picture this one on her finger, clear as day. Mulder pockets it. When the right time comes- when the IVF has worked and she is pregnant with their baby- he’ll ask her. His stomach twists with excited nerves.
He bids goodbye to his mother for another week, thanks for her the ring, and makes arranges for their next weekend meeting.
It never happens.
…
He is spiralling, out of control. He makes connections that aren’t there, holds the pill bottle and blames their conspirators. What looks staged to Mulder appears as a normal suicide scene to Scully. People commit suicide, Mulder, when they’re in pain. You’re mother was in pain.
He begs her to do the autopsy and Scully blanches. No, she couldn’t do it. With strangers there’s a detachment, they are just a body, evidence on a metal table, it’s so much easier to think that when she doesn’t know them.
“But if you don’t do it, I might never know the truth,” he tells her. There’s pain in his eyes as he says it, a strain in his voice. You’re the one I trust he is telling her.
So she agrees.
…
She almost doesn’t go to his apartment.
She wants to process it all herself, to think things over in her own mind before she tells him. He is ruthless. When his mind is set it’s pretty hard to change it. Scully sighs and removes her glasses. She’ll go over, it wasn’t right to keep this from him, even if he wasn’t going to believe her. She packs her bag, placing the reports carefully inside. She steels her heart and her mind, tells herself to deliver the facts just as she would do with any other family member.
But he is just not any other and that just might break her resolve.
…
Mulder listens to the tape over and over again, searching for clues, listening between the lines. He also does it for comfort, to hear her voice- a voice he’ll never hear again. He shuts his eyes against the onslaught of grief, replays the message, refocuses his mind on what matters. She was holding something back.
Everyone refused to acknowledge the similarities; Scully, Skinner, all believing he was just personalising the case but he knew it was similar and his mother knew it to. He should’ve persuaded her to talk. He’s gone off course, is mind elsewhere thinking about rings and babies and not what was more present: his search, his answers, the truth about Samantha.
There’s a knock against the door and when he opens it Scully stands there. She looks exactly how he feels: exhausted but he is dragging her inside, finally glad she is here because he’s cracked the code, it was about Samantha, it was always about Samantha.
He pulls her towards the answering machine, replays the message, implores her to listen to it properly. Samantha was never abducted by aliens, it was just something he was led to believe and that is what his mother wanted to tell him and they killed her for it, because of what she knew, what she—
“Is killed herself, Mulder.”
Scully’s words are said forcefully, harshly, resolutely.
They land like a blow, a slap in the face, a bomb going off.
No, no…the message on the answering machine, the staged crime scene, it couldn’t…it couldn’t be that simple.
Scully is talking but Mulder can barely hear her. She’s pulling papers from her bag but he doesn’t want to see them. He shakes his head, in shock.
“She didn’t want to live,” Scully says gently, the paper extended out towards him.
He shatters to pieces, the world collapsing all around him. She was lying, she was in on it, she did it. He shakes the desk, it’s contents rattling about repeating She’s lying, she’s lying, she’s lying…
“Mulder—”
Her hand against his shoulder wakes him.
Scully wouldn’t lie.
He looks at her and sees the pain, the sympathy, the empathy, the worry reflecting back at him.
She doesn’t want this to be true either.
But it is.
She killed herself.
His entire body collapses onto her, gripping her tight enough he’s sure it hurts, curling his frame into a ball around her, the sobs ripping painfully from his chest. He shakes and shakes.
Scully curls herself around him and he feels the faintest touch of her lips on his neck, the gentle rocking. She tells him that it’s all going to be okay.
He wants it to all be okay.
…
He cries. He screams. He sobs. He throws up. It’s 3am and when he tries to hurt himself she tries to redirect him to hurt her instead.
That stops him. His eyes are red and his cheeks are tear stained. He looks at her horror struck.
“Scully, I could never hurt you,” he tells her, horrified at even the thought.
She pulls her to him. “I know, I know,” she whispers. It doesn’t matter, she’s distracted him long enough for the urge to go away.
She makes him feel good instead, she makes him forget even just for a time, to bask in the relief of not feeling like that for even a minute was enough sometimes.
The gentle gyrate of her hips, his hands holding onto her like a lifetime, his face leaning against her chest. She feels his body tense, a muffled groan escaping his lips. She feels the rush of his cum filling her and she doesn’t even care that she didn’t get to come.
He kisses the tops of her breasts, twirls his tongue around her cleavage. She feels her nipples tighten, her chest pushing against his face off its own accord.
Mulder looks up at her, asking, begging. Scully rises on her knees, her chest now level with his face. He wastes no time, latching onto one nipple, suckling. Scully gasps, she feels a throb between her legs, his cum slipping out of her.
Her pleasure is his comfort. He pulls away and quickly moves to the other, all the while his hand snakes around her thigh, coming to rest between her legs. His sifts through her wetness and his cum, slowly fucking her with his fingers while his bites, sucks, and tongues at her nipple.
For a moment Scully lets herself forget, too.
…
She wakes after three hours of sleep of broken sleep. Groggy and tired, the sheets stuck to her sweat covered body, Mulder clinging on.
Scully extracts herself from his hold, not an easy task when he has an ironclad grip on her. She was sweaty and sticky, sore and achy. She wanted a shower before she had to face the next round of demons.
She thought that had been the end of it. When she had come and Mulder had fallen asleep against her breasts, she thought they were finally done, to fall asleep and not worry until tomorrow.
He was pacing the room like a caged animal, his footsteps loud and heavy against the floor, repeatedly pinching, pulling, and scratching at the skin of his forearm. She could see the scratches, the way he’d marked his skin, hurt himself. She didn’t want him to do that anymore. She offers herself up for the second time.
Scully touches the back of her head. There’s a bump where her head had collided violently with the wall. She remembers his kiss that was so hard it was borderline painful, the punishing pace of his thrusts. She let him throw her onto the bed, feels the harsh tug of his hand in her hair pulling him back towards her. There’s bruising around her wrists were he’d gripped them too tight, pulled them above her head while he thrusted in and out of her. She let him use her however she wished becoming not a person with her own pleasures and preferences but simply a body. A body designed to take away his pain. His cum spurted all over her; her back, her stomach, her chest. Not her face, though. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her face no matter how hard she tried. He was ashamed, she realised. Ashamed to get off on using her in such a way. It didn’t matter if she was the one who offered. When she tried to help him, to take over, he’d just grabbed her arm held it down and she could do nothing but watch as he jerked himself off.
She’s still covered in his cum, now dry and flakey. They didn’t have much energy to do much other than sleep after that.
She gathers her clothes, picking up the pieces, and the pieces of herself off the floor. She goes into the bathroom, places yesterday’s clothes on the counter, switches on the shower and waits for the water to heat up. She pees, she brushes her teeth with the spare toothbrush that has become hers, pulls open the drawer with her soap and towels in it, Mulder has something similar at her place.
So much of each other exists in the other’s space, she thinks. And soon, not long now, something shared will exist in her.
…
He lets the shower water lull him awake. In blissful ignorance he finds contentment. He rolls over onto the side he knows is empty and snuggles into her pillow, inhaling her scent.
The shower water stops suddenly. He is awake. Reality kicks in.
He hears the door to the bathroom open, the whirl of the extractor fan as she switches it on. The bed dips, he keeps his eyes closed, he doesn’t want to face today.
She smells of lavender and jasmine when she leans over him. Mulder wants to lose himself in it, to forget everything, and exist in this wonderfully scented Scully world. Her lips press a kiss into his hairline, her fingers soothingly combing through his hair.
“I love you, Mulder,” she says. A whisper, a secret and he clenches the sheets in his fist.
I love you, too he so desperately wants to say back.
A knock on the door interrupts him. He stays quiet. He keeps his eyes closed. The mattress springs back up as Scully stands, her bare feet padding along the floor on the way to the front door.
His bedroom door is left open, he can hear Skinner at the door, their conversation. Billie LaPierre wants to talk to him. His heart catches and his eyes open. He’s clambering out of the bed, throwing on his jeans and t-shirt is record time.
“It’s not a—”
“What is it?” Mulder interrupts. He ignores Scully’s worried look. He needs to know what this is.
“The case has heated up,” says Skinner slightly taken off guard by Mulder’s sudden appearance. “I’ve booked two flights for us.”
Mulder nods.
“Well, then you better book three,” says Scully. Her voice makes room for no argument.
Skinner sits in the living room as they collect their stuff. He wants to talk about last night but he can’t seem to think of the right words. He also doesn’t want to have this conversation with Skinner in the room next door.
When Scully leans forward to grab something he spies the bruises starting to form on her wrist. He feels sick. I did that, he thinks with a sickening thought.
“Scully, I’m—”
“Work Stuff remember, Mulder? Let’s focus on the case.”
He nods, biting his tongue. Work Stuff, Us Stuff, Personal Stuff…it was all starting to meld together, to entangle up as one whole thing. How could they keep the Work Stuff and Us Stuff separate when it was all becoming two ends of the same thing.
But he doesn’t say anything. Scully puts her coat on, pulls the sleeves right over her wrists. She hides the darkest part of their night away and leaves the bedroom, Mulder following close behind.
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You're Never Just Anything To Me (8)
@today-in-fic | ao3 | Prev. Chapter
A look into Mulder and Scully’s relationship starting from Millennium going all the way up to Requiem.
VIII. Closure
PART TWO.
He is dead on his feet.
His body aches all over, his eyes tensing with tiredness but Mulder knows no sleep will come to him tonight.
Scully keeps glancing over to him, every so often he’ll see her flex her wrists. Shame washes over him, the action a reminder of what had transpired the night before.
Skinner had been sent to them as an errand boy, forced to drag them out here and solve the case. Wrap it up in record time and if it couldn’t be solved then to let it come to a natural end where it could comfortably sit in the Cold Case drawer where nobody would pick at it for the next 20 years.
All three of them stand in the motel lobby. Skinner, quiet and stoic, here to do a job. Mulder and Scully, exhausted from the night before, made weary by this depressing case.
“Two rooms please,” Skinner asks the receptionist at the desk. “Twin and a single.”
The receptionist keys in some details, types down the accompanying names of Mulder and Scully. She holds the card reader out and then hands two keys numbered 15 and 16 towards Skinner.
“16 is the single,” the girl says and Skinner passes that one to Scully rather awkwardly, Scully takes it rather bashfully. Mulder is reminded that Skinner knows about them but rules are rules and this man was sent here to do a job.
Mulder looks longingly towards Scully as she unlocks her door. She smiles sadly and bids the other two goodnight. Mulder follows Skinner into the room. It’s an adjoining room with the door not too far from the bed Mulder claims. When he sits down, slouching under…everything he swears he hears the slight snick of it being unlocked.
…
There’s a dip in the mattress.
Scully rolls into it. The smell of Mulder floods her senses, the warmth of his body warming her up. Her arms naturally go around him off their own accord even if her words are protesting.
“You shouldn’t be in here, Mulder.”
Yet she didn’t want him to go either.
“I know I just…I needed you.”
The words send a warmth through her chest and down into her stomach. To be needed, to be sought comfort from, it made her feel useful.
They are quiet for a few minutes. She feels Mulder’s thumb soothing back and forth over her wrist and after a moment he brings it up to his lips and kisses over the bruises he can’t see but knows are there. He doesn’t say anything but the press of his lips against her skin says all: I’m sorry and Thank you. Scully snuggles into him, her own silent response: You’re welcome.
Then, Mulder speaks. “What do I do, Scully?”
He sounds exhausted, tired beyond belief. There’s pain in his voice, he is lost. His battered body from the onslaught of grief overwhelming him.
“74 means something, Mulder. I know it.”
“Scully…”
“Go home,” she says gently. She’s awake now, sitting upright. “Me and Skinner can finish the case, you go home.”
But he is shaking his head.
“I can’t…” he says and Scully can hear the tears that are starting to fall. “I want to but I can’t…”
She gathers him into her, holding him against her chest. She says nothing, instead letting her own tears fall down as well. Tonight wasn’t the night. Tomorrow is a new day.
Everything will be clearer tomorrow.
Hopefully.
…
His sister’s diary lays open on the table.
Mulder has no reason to believe it isn’t hers. The boy took him into that room, he was meant to find it.
He had wanted to be alone, save for Scully. He sent Skinner and Harold Piller away, took hold of Scully’s hand, diary clutched in the other, and the two of them drove all the way to this little diner.
Food and drinks are served but they remain untouched. Scully nibbles at hers here and there but Mulder can’t take his eyes off the words still written in her illegible eight year old handwriting despite her being fourteen years old here.
He reads each page, reading the torture that is inflicted upon her. His insides twists up and around, the whole thing makes him feel sick but like a car crash he can’t look away.
An old suitcase they can just drag around and open up when they want to.
He thinks of Scully, then, looks at her for a moment longer than necessary. Is this how you feel, he wonders. He turns back to the book and starts to read it aloud to her in the quiet diner. When he is finished, Scully takes his hand.
“Let’s get out of here,” she says. He waits outside while she pays the bill.
Now he stares up at the night sky, the stars. He always thought she was up there, travelling through light years of space and time, waiting for the moment she could return home. When in actual fact, she was here, locked away for six years. He had just finished high school at that time.
He is still staring at the night when Scully comes out of the diner. He doesn’t look away, just keeps staring. He talks of stars, of souls, he wonders what his mother saw, what she was trying to tell him. He is rambling, overtalking as he’s prone to do when he’s tired. Scully knows it, she tells him to go to sleep. That’s when he’s reminded of three years ago, of John Lee Roche, the cloth hearts, the Wonderland dreams. That wasn’t too far off now, was it, he thinks with a gentle smile.
When he sleeps tonight there is no flashing lights, no cries of Fox! Not even a red laser or a trip to Wonderland. He is dreamless. The only thing is the sound of whispered words in his ear.
The next morning, he wakes to the sound of knocking. It is noon. He doesn’t recall the whispered words.
…
Samantha hugs him. Fourteen years old, a child forever. Her glow is bright, like a star. When her arms wrap around him he swears he can feel it. When she pulls away and they look down at each other, something realises inside of him; the guilt, the fear, the longing, all of it, it washes away like a current.
For the first time in almost 30 years he feels free of all of it.
Scully and Harold wait for him by the car. He is smiling for the first time in days, there’s a bounce in his step, he is no longer hunkered down by it all.
“Are you okay?” Scully asks.
“I’m fine,” he answers still smiling. “I’m free.”
And Scully smiles back.
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You're Never Just Anything To Me (5)
@today-in-fic | ao3 | Prev. Chapter
A look into Mulder and Scully's relationship starting from Millennium going all the way up to Requiem.
V. The Amazing Maleeni.
Over time, the physical wounds heal but the mental ones still remain, lingering at the edges. Scully appears subdued, not quite smiling the way she used to- the smile not quite reaching her eyes like it did. Selfishly, he wants the old Scully back. Unfortunately, Mulder doesn’t think that’s going to happen any time soon.
Scully has laxed her “weekends only” rule, however. She’ll come round on a random weekday to discuss a case. When the case has been discussed she’ll let Work Stuff meld into Us Stuff, she’ll let him hold her and cuddle her. She might, if he’s lucky, let him kiss her too. She never stays. They talk, they cuddle, they kiss, they eat and she always leaves at the end of the night.
Mulder wants more. He wants to talk to her about stuff not related to work, he wants to share his interests with her and hers with him. He spends the rest of the week thinking of things that could be done covertly. By Saturday night, he’s finally found it.
“How about we start a movie night sort of thing?” he asks, broaching the subject cautiously.
Scully rolls onto her stomach and rests her chin on his chest. “Huh?” she asks, her post-orgasmic haze slowing her brain down.
Mulder chuckles. “Movie night, Scully. We watch movies. Maybe take it in turns or something?” His hands stroke up and down her naked back as she thinks.
“Who’s apartment would be watch at?”
“Maybe whoever’s turn it is to pick, we watch at theirs.”
Scully hums. “I guess that could be fun. When were you thinking of starting this?”
“Next Friday?” he poses.
“And who gets to go first?”
“Well since it was my idea…”
Scully sits up all of a sudden, the sheets pooling around her waist, Mulder’s eyes fall to her exposed chest for a moment.
“Rock, Paper, Scissors,” says Scully.
Mulder’s eyes are pulled back up. Scully has her hand out, fisted, waiting.
“Really?” Mulder asks with a bewildered grin.
“Yes.”
He laughs. “Okay.” And holds out his own fist.
Her scissors cut his paper. Mulder let her win, delighting in the way she has a little celebration.
Movie Night is official and she gets to decide the first movie. His hands at her waist and his mouth against hers he mutters, “It just better not be a horror movie,” before they succumb to their desires once more.
…
The Cali case seems a little bit hokey. An amateur magician beheaded on Santa Monica Pier. While decapitation was no laughing matter, a crime was still committed, it seemed to lack the heaviness of most of their over cases. To Mulder, it felt like the perfect distraction, a chance to get away from it all.
They had been stuck at home for the most part. Catching up on paperwork or investigating small local cases. The weather had been miserable and there were rumours of a Budget Meeting for them in the future. California sun sounded appealing.
They pack their things, meet at the airport, board the flight just before lunchtime and land in Cali that same afternoon.
…
She seems happier here. There’s the hint of the old Scully trying to pry herself out. She seems to glow, her smiles reaching her eyes again. Maybe she’s okay.
He wants to savour it. He changes their flight, books an extra day out here. They leave their current motel room and check into another; one room this time, the name simply Mulder. A thrill runs through him.
They wander the pier not as FBI agents conducting an investigation but simply as people. Two people in love. He holds her hand, he kisses her in public. No one seems to care. The world doesn’t end. She once asked him to get out of the car and Mulder thinks, watching her as she looks around in awe, basking in the joy and laughter that surrounds him, that maybe he could this time.
He wastes some money on the mini games trying to show off his athletic ability to her while she watches all the while he continuously misses the bucket, the ball bouncing off the bottom of it each time. She declines her turn and Mulder uses it up instead. The ball goes in and he wins her a dolphin, she’s his lucky number.
They eat overpriced fries and hotdogs for dinner while dangling their legs off the side of the pier. She info dumps on him about dolphins and he listens to every single one of them even though he already knows them all.
He kisses mustard off the side of her mouth and when the sun starts to set he takes her back to their motel. They break their second rule and neither of them seem to care.
…
Scully knew what Mulder was trying to do, why he picked this case, why he made them stay the extra day. She had fun today. She’s had fun all week, actually. Getting out of DC had been good for her. Scully regards the cheap little dolphin he won her and hugs it to her chest. Mulder snores lightly behind her, she watches the waves rolling back and forth from the little armchair, a light breeze rolls through the open window and she tucks her knees under the hem of Mulder’s T-shirt.
Los Angeles isn’t San Diego but being back in California for the first time since Christmas 1997 has a melancholic feeling passing through her. Since the discovery of her infertility she tried to not waste time thinking about babies. The failed adoption of Emily and Emily’s subsequent death soon after, the whole thing seemed impossible. She couldn’t give birth to her own and she couldn’t adopt.
She stopped taking birth control. She and Mulder don’t use condoms and he doesn’t pull out. They didn’t even discuss it, she realises. They didn’t need to.
She presses a hand to her stomach, flat as it’s ever been. It’s been three months, they’ve had numerous sexual encounters. If her body worked properly, would she be pregnant now, she wonders.
Maybe it was all a blessing that she couldn’t get pregnant. There was no reason to worry, no tablets to remember to take, no condoms to fumble about with. To have sex and not worry about any repercussions was, in many ways, freeing. A pregnancy wouldn’t go down very well with the FBI anyway.
But still she wonders if it’s worth it. She longs to watch her body change, to feel a baby growing beneath her skin, to see the proof of her and Mulder’s love right there.
She wonders just what their baby would look like. Boy or girl? Brown hair or red hair? Blue eyes or hazel eyes? Tall or short? Her or him? Maybe a mixture of both, she’d like that. A perfect balance of them both. He’d make a good father, Mulder. And she…she likes to think she’d make a good mother.
The tears are falling before she even realises, dropping from her jawline onto the dolphin and Mulder’s T-shirt below.
“Why are you crying, sunshine?”
Mulder is standing in front of her, she didn’t even hear him get up. Concern is on his face and he crouches down to her level, wipes a stray tear away.
“I want something I can’t have,” she says through sniffles and tears.
Mulder looks at her confused, trying to understand.
“What do you want?” he’s asking. “I’ll give you anything. Just say it, Scully, and I’ll get it. Right now if I have to.”
She laughs because he really would but this he cannot and it makes the tears fall harder. Scully falls into him, clutching at him.
“I want a baby,” she whispers.
The words hit him like a ton of bricks, his heart twisting and shredding to pieces. He feels like an ass.
“Oh, Scully…” he says. His face presses into the crown of her hair. “I’m sorry.”
They stay like that until she quietens. When the tears have stopped and she is beyond exhausted. Mulder carries her back to the bed. When he lays her down she looks at him through tired, hooded eyes, miserable.
“I ruined your day.”
He is furiously shaking his head. “You haven’t ruined anything, baby.” He lays down next to her, spooned behind her and kisses her temple. “We’ll figure something out, Scully,” he says. “There’s gotta be options for us.”
Us.
“You want a baby, too?” she asks turning towards him.
He is quiet. She tries to read his face but it is unreadable. Finally, he says.
“Whatever you want, Scully, I want it too.” He kisses her chastely.
Scully considers that for a moment. Of course children is a big ask of somebody. To introduce a baby into their lives would change everything for him. It would mean getting out of the car. She surveys is sleep-slack face for a moment, suddenly not as exhausted as she was mere moments ago.
Could he really do that, she wonders. Is she and their potential future together really enough?
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You're Never Just Anything To Me (4)
@today-in-fic | ao3 | Prev. Chapter.
A look into Mulder and Scully's relationship starting from Millennium going all the way up to Requiem.
IV. Orison.
There’s the smell of gunpowder in the air and Scully commits her 8th murder.
Police and forensic techs flood her apartment. They leave fingerprint powder on the walls, frames, and doors. They fly in and out like this isn’t someone’s home. Pfaster’s body is zipped up and carried away. If Mulder had it his way, he would tear the monster to tiny pieces.
He finds Scully sat upon her bed, back to him, surrounded in the chaos of her fight. He has an urge to pick the fallen bookcase up, put it right as if that would make any difference to what’s happened, how she is feeling. He can’t do that, though, because right now, her apartment isn’t her home, it’s a crime scene. Again.
He slowly makes his way over to her, places a hand against her shoulder. She still jumps at the contact and it makes his heart hurt. I’m not here to hurt you, Scully.
“You okay, Sunshine?”
She perks up slightly at the nickname and nods, averting her eyes back down. He sees, in her hand, that she holds her bible. He so desperately wants to reach out and hold her but police still invade her home, cameras still click away in the background.
“Come on,” he says reaching out a hand to help her up, a sudden need to get her alone, to comfort her in the only way he can. “Let’s get you out of here.”
A bag in her hand, the lead detective stops them on their way out.
“We can put you in a hotel if you need one,” he says.
Scully looks at Mulder for a second before turning back to the detective.
“It’s okay,” she says. “I have somewhere to stay.”
When they are out of sight Mulder takes Scully’s hand, squeezing it tightly. He puts her bag in the trunk, opens the door for her, hovers there until she is safe and buckled. In the early hours of Friday morning he drives her to his apartment.
…
She had been in a trance since it happened. The police and techs were a blurred flurry. She knew they were there but she couldn’t quite process why. Mulder was the only thing that felt real.
She stands in the quiet of his apartment. Slightly messy but not the disaster she had just came from. Somehow the stark difference is stifling and tears come to her eyes, a sob escaping her lips as she finally processes it all.
Her tiny body is wracked with sobs, collapsing in on itself and Mulder drops her bag, his arms coming around to support her.
“Scully…baby, it’s okay.” He gathers her in his arms, comforting her over and over again in a whisper. She mushes her face into his chest.
“I’m a murderer,” she blubbers and Mulder clutches her tighter.
“No you’re not,” he says vehemently. “You’re a survivor.” The words make her cry harder.
“Come on.” He gently starts to move them both away from the entry and towards his bedroom. “Let’s get you to sleep.”
It happens so quickly, so suddenly, like she only just becomes aware of the clothing that touches her body. She pulls at her pyjamas, the blood, sweat stained ones. She wants them off her body. She wants them gone.
“Hey, hey…” Mulder stills her with a questioning look. “Talk to me. What’s going on.”
Scully continues to tug at her offending clothes. “I want them off,” she says, getting more and more frustrated.
“Okay,” says Mulder nodding. “I’ll help you. Hang on.” He reaches into her overnight bag and takes out the cream the paramedics gave her for the wounds on her back. She watches as he pulls out a t-shirt and some boxer shorts and places them on the bedside table next to the cream.
She has stopped fighting with her clothes and instead sways on her feet, half asleep, the events of the night catching up with her. Mulder touches the top button of her pyjama top.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
Scully nods and he undoes the top button, making his way down until there’s enough undone to where he can pull it over her head. He takes her pants off and helps her into the shorts, her hands resting on his shoulders for balance. She goes to hold her arms out for him to put the t-shirt over her head when he stops her.
“Hang on,” he says and Scully stops. He reaches for the cream. “I’m gonna put some of this on your back first.” Scully nods and Mulder pulls back the covers on his bed. He helps her climb in and she lays topless on her front, her arms sliding beneath the pillow.
Mulder kneels beside her. Her eyes are closed, sleep ready to take her under. She jumps at the feel of the cold cream, the slight sting as the lotion is rubbed gently, soothingly onto her back. She settles as the stinging makes way for relief.
She filters on that edge between sleep and consciousness. She feels the faint touch of Mulder’s lips kissing her implant scar before he’s reaching towards something.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he says as he jostles her, pulling her to sit up. Something soft is pulled over her head and he tugs it down her body before helping her lay back down.
“I’ll be in the living room if you need me, okay.” He presses a kiss to her temple, one on the side of her nose, and finally a soft one against her lips.
He is gone then, the door slightly ajar. She doesn’t want him to go but her voice isn’t there to call him back.
Mulder, don’t go, she thinks. Mulder, I’m scared.
Suddenly sleep doesn’t come as easy to her as it did when he was in here. Shapes shift in the darkness, there’s a presence in the room. Her eyes widen as Pfaster stands in the corner, he holds a pair of shears in his hands. Scully screams but no sound comes out.
…
A movie is playing but he isn’t paying attention to it. He’s too busy listening out for signs of distress from Scully yet all seemed quiet. Maybe she was asleep.
“Mulder?”
He turns to see her standing in the doorway of his bedroom. She looks absolutely terrified.
“Are you okay, Scully?” he asks standing up.
She shakes her head, tears coming to her eyes. “I had a nightmare.”
He shuts his eyes. If only he could take away all her trauma.
“Can I stay out here with you?” she asks quietly.
Mulder reopens them. “Of course.”
She pads over him, bare feet silent against the flooring. In the lamplight, he can see how his t-shirt completely engulfs her, the sleeves falling past her elbows, the hem falling to her knees. She looks tiny, vulnerable, a newborn fawn experiencing the cruel world for the first time.
It's not her first time, though. Scully knows the world is cruel and full of monsters. It makes this vulnerability so much more painful for the both of them.
She lays against his chest, her body curled atop of his own, her feet ending near his knees. He is reminded again of how small she really is. He wraps his arms around her, entwines his fingers with hers, his other hand he gently rakes his fingernails over her scalp.
Scully shivers, goosebumps forming over her arms and Mulder pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and wraps it around her, tucking it into the sides.
Scully relaxes, her breathing evens out.
“You’re so good, Mulder,” Scully mumbles and Mulder’s heart swells in his chest. He kisses the crown of her head, holding her impossibly closer.
“You’re safe, baby. I won’t let anything else happen to you.”
…
He awakens to find her awake. She hovers above, her face searching for something within his own. Mulder waits, watching, and finally her eyes flick down to his lips. She closes the distance between them, pressing her lips to his. It’s harder than she expected and when her tongue slides against the seam of his lips, seeking entry, his hands fall to her waist.
“I want you to make me feel good,” she whispers into his ear. Her voice goes straight to his groin. “I want you to make me forget.”
She climbs off him, shivering slightly in the early morning light. She starts making her way back to his bedroom. Mulder quickly follows suit and once inside the other room, once laying down in the bed together, he situates himself behind her.
His hand at her centre, he begins exploring through her folds, feels how wet she is but doesn’t make a remark on it. Her hand falls over him, guiding him up towards her clit, circling the bud slowly, showing him what she likes. He’s a quick learner and soon her hand falls away. She’s gasping as he inserts two fingers deep inside her, grasping at the sheets when a third follows. He does what she asks; makes her feel good, hopefully makes her forget.
A hot, gentle, trickle that spills over his fingers when she comes. He his hard steel against her ass, bursting at the seams with his own desire, but today isn’t about him. He removes his hand, wiping it on the corner of his duvet. Scully turns in his arms, her face hidden in his chest. He can’t see her tears but he feels them seeping through his clothes.
He wants to tell her that it’s okay, that they will get through this together, and perhaps they will, but it isn’t okay, she is lost; hurting, traumatised and he is just a man trying to do his best.
When she’s fallen back asleep, Mulder extracts himself from her grasp. He kisses her tear-stained cheeks and slinks off into the bathroom. He brings the fingers that were inside to her up to his nose, inhaling the scent of her, pumps himself with his other hand. He ejaculates onto the floor to the memory of that hot trickle spilling over his fingers.
Maybe things will never be okay again.
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A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight [Rewrite]
I originally wrote this fic in September and finished it late October 2019. It was one of the first fics I'd ever written for this fandom and it has remained the only multi-chapter fic I ever finished. For years I've been wanting to rewrite this fic, to fix the typos, change the clunky sentences, and include characters I'd introduced but didn't do anything more with. Mostly I want to re-share this fic. It sits at the bottom of my fic list on ao3 and I don't want this fic to be forgotten because it still means a lot to me 5 years on so over the next couple of days I'm gonna go through each chapter and rewrite certain parts. You can read the original on ao3 or you can just read this version. Anyway, this is getting long so Imma shut up now.
@today-in-fic | ao3
Summary: For Mulder, a wealthy English-bred socialite who's had everything given to him since birth, the Titanic is shipping him off to a prison, a life he no longer wishes for or wants. For Scully, an Irish stranger from the lower class, it offers a new life, a future she can truly envision in America. What if the universe put them on the same path to achieve those dreams at the cost of life?
Chapter One.
A cloud of heavy smoke rises from the four vapers, covering the clear sky above and littering it with stuffy grey puffs. People scramble up and down the dock, trying to keep family members together as they rush to get through the gates. Others stand there gawking at the ship. For those not boarding it’s simply a day out; The greatest ship ever built, the paper’s call it and those who live nearby wasn’t about to miss out on such a historic day as this.
Mulder stares at it, surprised at just how wonderstruck he is with it. He never put much stock in the rumours when it was being built, believing that she was just going to turn out as all those before her had. That the rumours were just that- rumours.
But he was wrong. Never in his life had he seen a ship as large as the one that towers over him.
He turns to Phoebe, reaching out for her hand as she climbs out of the cab.
“What do you think?” Mulder asks as he helps his fiancé down. “Do you think she’s impressive?”
To no one’s surprise, Phoebe only scoffs at the ship, its presence not changing her mood in the slightest.
“It’s not as grand as the Mauretania.”
Bill Mulder chuckles behind them, handing their luggage to his man-servant, Krycek as the boy passes them onto a baggage handler.
“It’s much bigger than the Mauretania,” he says, ready to quote every fact he had memorised from the London Herald about the ship. “And much more luxurious,” he adds.
Phoebe only huffs, clearly becoming uninterested in their current conversation.
“Careful Fox,” his father warns him. “Hard one to please, that one.” Mulder only manages an uncomfortable laugh already well aware at the difficulties that come attached to Phoebe Green.
With departure time approaching, they begin to make their way towards the ship, weaving their way through the crowds, Phoebe turning her nose up at every person not dressed to the nines, going as far as to dramatically balk and cover her nose as a lower-class foreigner runs across their path.
“Filthy immigrant,” Phoebe scorns at the innocent man. Mulder tries not to let his disgust show at Phoebe’s words; they are excused after all and Mulder rolls his eyes at the clear disrespect his people show towards those less fortunate.
“He’s just trying to get to the ship, Phoebe.”
“Yes, well, maybe he should hurry to a bath instead.”
Mulder ignores her words, instead guiding her through the swarming crowds.
“Honestly Bill,” Mulder’s mother pipes up. “We couldn’t have arrived here earlier rather than scurrying around the docks like rats?”
“I was all packed and ready to go,” Bill says and indicates to the pair in front of him. “It was those two who weren’t.”
Mulder sighs. If anything, it was Phoebe who they had been waiting for.
“We did try to hurry, Mother. Phoebe couldn’t decide what to wear.”
Phoebe scoffs once more. “It’s not my fault that you told me to change.”
“I just thought you would get too warm wearing black all day.”
“I’m in mourning Fox,” Phoebe cries. “The weather doesn’t change that.”
Mulder resists sighing again. Phoebe had been mourning for weeks now. The loss of their baby had brought on this spontaneous trip. Phoebe, having had enough London and “wanting to get away from all the bad memories” all but demanded that they leave for America as soon as possible. A chance for a new start, she told him afterwards. They could get married here and start again. Next thing Mulder knew, he was packing his bag and going back to a country he hadn’t seen since he was a child.
He felt trapped somehow, and it had nothing to do with the swarms of crowds. This was inside him. A cage or a hole he had put himself in. One he didn’t think he was going to get out of any time soon.
She’s been sitting on this bench for what feels like hours now. The stuffy bar overcrowded with sight-seers only now they’ve done the sight-seeing and only drinking is on their mind.
She was told ten minutes. Ten minutes and they would be looking for a ferry to take them back to Ireland. Dana was done with the place. Southampton was the same as everywhere else in England that they’d been- the same people, the same scorning looks they’d get no matter where they go, the same rejections. It’s only a number of times a person can hear ‘no’ before they never want to hear the word again.
Her brother, however, had other ideas. They only came into the bar to ask if there were any ferries available to take them home and somehow Charlie had managed to be roped into a game of poker by a bunch of Norwegians who spoke very little English between them.
The game had currently been going on for a lot longer than the ‘ten minutes’ she was promised.
Dana sighs, shifting in her seat to get comfortable. She’d order a drink if Charlie wasn’t currently gambling away their last penny.
“You lonely, love?” Dana turns towards the speaker. His cockney accent thickened by the slurring of his words. “Ye want sum comp’ny?”
He stumbles towards her, catching himself on the rickety table and smiles at his clumsiness. Dana attempts to shuffle further back into the bench, failing.
“I’m fine,” she says turning away and hoping the man would take the hint.
But he presses on.
“Are ye sure?”
“Aye. I’m sure.” She gets up before the man can say or do anything else, and heads over to Charlie’s table.
Her brother is in full concentration mode. Lip caught between his teeth, eyes scanning his cards and the card laying down on the table. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Countless of times Dana has watched him play, never learning from the mistakes he’s made in previous games. This gambling addiction he’s seemed to have developed has cost them a lot in the finance department, a cost that Dana is not too happy about.
She taps him on the shoulder.
“Charlie, I want to go.”
“Hold on a second…”
His tongue replacing his lip, Charlie gives one nervous glance around at his fellow players.
“Charlie, we need to go.” She tries not to sound like she’s whining, he’s her younger brother for God’s sake, a child, she shouldn’t have to whine.
Charlie ignores her, a smile breaking out across his face.
“I’m sorry, lads.” He places his cards on the table, his smile turning cocky as he reaches over to take his earnings. Dana spies two pieces of paper laying on top of the money.
A large hand grasps Charlie’s. His grin falls as he stares in fear at the man.
“He cheat!” The man yells. With his hand still firmly wrapped around Charlie’s arm, he yanks him forward across the table, his other hand a fist that falls down and smashes straight into his face.
“Charlie!” Dana yells as his body falls slump against the oak. The man backs off as the bar grows quiet, ignoring the winnings that fall onto the floor.
With all concern for her brother, Dana rushes to his side, her hand falling on his face, wiping away the blood that drips down from his wound. You fucking idiot…she thinks.
Charlie’s eyes open slowly, despite the pain he is grinning from ear to ear.
“I won, Dana,” he tells her gleefully. “We’re going to America.”
Dana frowns, bewildered for the moment at what Charlie could possibly be talking about until her eyes fall on those two pieces of paper that lay on the ground. Realisation sets in and she reaches down to pick them up, turning them over to read.
The words White Star Line stare back at her. She looks from the paper in her hand to the ship outside and back to Charlie.
“You’re…you’re not serious?” she asks in awe.
“Yep. Fucker put his ticket down as payment,” Charlie all but shouts still grinning.
Dana stares back at the ticket. She was really about to go to America, the Titanic being the ship to take her there.
“You’re gonna wanna be quick,” a man beside them tells them. He points to his clock on the wall. “Boat leaves in ten minutes.”
At that, Charlie hauls himself off the table as the two siblings begin pushing what money remains on the table into their only bag, not caring for the coins that had fallen onto the floor.
“Hurry up!” Charlie urges her as Dana ties up the bag. “Come on, come on.” He takes the bag throwing it over his shoulder and grabs his sister’s hand, dragging her out of the bar.
They weave their way through the people, Charlie up front and Dana falling slightly behind. She fists her skirt in her palms, pulling it up so as not to trip over it, keeping her eye on Charlie ahead of her and praying she doesn’t lose him.
They collide with everything; people, a cart selling vegetables, a horse and carriage until finally they make it, out of breath, and clutching at their tickets.
“Tickets?,” the crewman orders, his fingers making a grabby motion. They hand them over and snatches it out of their hands. His nose turns up when he reads the names.
“Leif and Ingrid Brevik?” he asks, sceptically.
Dana looks nervously at Charlie, worried that they had just got excited for their new futures only to be turned away at the doors once more.
“Aye, we’re Americans.” Charlie tells him doing nothing to mask his thick Irish accent.
The crewman gives once last glance at the ticket and them. Sighing and probably done dealing with steerage who’s English is minimal he accepts the tickets.
“Get in before I change my mind.”
Relieved, the pair rush in just as the crewman shuts the door.
They make their way down the crowded corridor. People stand looking at the various signs that point in directions of rooms, bathrooms, and general communal areas. They argue, an overload of different words muddled together to make one distorted language.
Dana isn’t paying attention, however. Her eyes switch from the number written down on the ticket to the numbers written on the doors either side of them. Charlie had gotten distracted, eyeing up every woman that they walked past and Dana had finally ripped the paper out of his hands. If he wasn’t going to find their room, she will.
She finds it eventually. 23, near the end of the corridor. Charlie eyes up Room 24.
“Reckon a lass lives in there?” he asks.
Dana focuses on unlocking the door, a sly grin appearing on her face.
“I hope it’s a fat old man with a foot infection.” She looks up only to see the look of disgust appear across her brother’s face and she laughs, gaining the reaction she was looking for.
The door opens to their room. A single bunkbed, a desk and chair with a lamp set upon it, and a chest of drawers are the only furniture that occupy the room.
Charlie shares her sentiments exactly: it’s perfect.
“Beats the cargo hold on a ferry.” He throws the bag onto the chair and proceeds to climb to the top bunk.
She stops him before he can claim it.
“Piss off, I get top bunk.” She grips the back of his shirt, yanking him off the ladder.
“Careful!” Charlie cries. “I’m already injured.”
“So move out the way before I injured you even more.”
He does as he’s told, not without pulling a face beforehand, and throws himself on the bottom bunk.
Dana lies down, thankful to be in a bed that actually feels like a bed and not a brick.
“Hey, Dana?” Charlie calls after a moment of silence.
“Yeah?”
“Are you worried?”
Dana thinks for a second, curious as to what Charlie thinks she should be worried about.
“About what?” she asks.
Silence passes and she waits for an answer.
“Nothing,” Charlie says. “It’s nothing. We got nothing to be worried about.”
Despite being profoundly confused, Dana decides not to push it.
Another bout of silence passes and perhaps Charlie’s fallen asleep. At least that’s what she assumes until she hears his voice again.
“Hey, Dana?”
“What?”
“Do you still have that first-aid kit in the bag? My face is throbbing.”
A pack flops onto the floor beside his bed.
“Cheers.”
#the x-files#the x files#txf fic#xfiles fanfiction#titanic au#a jewel beneath the moonlight rewrite#scullysexualwrites
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You're Never Just Anything To Me (3)
@today-in-fic | ao3 | Prev. Chapter.
A look into Mulder and Scully's relationship starting from Millennium going all the way up to Requiem.
III. The Goldberg Variation.
The hot water cascades down her body from the shower. A relief from the bitter cold that awaits every other room. The space heater is waiting for her but she was starting to get tired dragging that thing from room to room. It’s fine, though, it’s just three more days. Three more days and then her heating will be fixed. Space heaters, hot drinks, electric blankets, and a shower will help her survive for three more days.
That is until the shower’s water runs cold. She’s partway through, hair soaked. She puts her hand in the water and it’s still cold. She turns the shower off, waits 30 seconds and turns it back on again. She waits for it to reheat itself. It stays cold.
Scully is shivering now, the cold biting at her exposed skin. Her shower ruined, she gives up and climbs out, wrapping the towel around her and camping as close to the space heater as possible.
…
There’s a call at 10:37pm. Mulder mutes the TV and looks at the time. It couldn’t be Scully, it was a Tuesday and she was very strict with her bedtime.
“Mulder,” he answer the phone.
“Hi.” It is Scully and Mulder sits up immediately, concern running through his body.
“Hi…Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She sounds different, there’s a stutter to her voice. I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine…She wasn’t fine.
“Scully, what’s going on?”
“My heating is out and so’s my hot water. I just wanted a shower to warm up. I’m cold, Mulder. Really, really cold. Freezing.”
She wasn’t in danger. He sits back, relaxing. But she was cold.
“Can I come over?” she asks quietly. “I know it’s a Tuesday, I know I said it wasn’t allowed but…I don’t think I can stay here.”
“Of course, Scully.” Why did she even feel like she needed to ask. “Bring some things, and some shower things, you can shower here.”
“Thank you.”
She’s at his front door 30 minutes later, a bag in her hand, her hair damp and curly. She looks exhausted.
“Oh Scully…” Mulder says. He reaches for her, bringing her towards him into his embrace. “How long has your heating been out?”
“Two days. I had three more days to go.”
He scoffs, shaking his head gently. “You should’ve told me. You’re staying here until it’s fixed, okay. No arguments.”
She nods against his chest.
…
The shower is amazing and the warmth afterwards is even better. She emerges from his bathroom to find him sat on the couch, the TV on low, a beer in his hand. And one presumably waiting for her on the coffee table.
“On a school night, Mulder?” she announces herself.
He turns and smiles. “Just one.” And he looks at her like she is the best thing in the world.
She loves him. So much.
“Um…thank you. For letting me stay.”
He rolls his eyes with affection. “I wasn’t gonna let you freeze to death, Scully.”
Scully scoffs, walking towards him. “Like I was going to freeze to death.” Though she doesn’t admit that’s what it felt like before she gained the courage to call him.
She sits down and Mulder opens his arms. She eyes him warily, a quick, “It’s still a work night, Mulder. The rules.”
“I remember your rules, Scully.”
Confident he wasn’t going to try anything, she picks her beer up from the coffee table and leans against his chest looking at the TV.
“What are you watching?”
“Nothing important,” he says. “What’s your thoughts on going to Chicago.”
Scully frowns. “For work or for…fun?”
He grins. “For work, unfortunately. Though, if you’re ever inclined…A man fell from a 29 story building. He survived.”
She sits up, looking at him with confusion.
“And you think that’s an X-File?” she asks.
Mulder just shrugs.
“Maybe. I think it’s worth going.”
They grow silent for a moment before Scully speaks again.
“Going somewhere for…fun,” she breaches slowly, avoiding looking at him. “Where did you have in mind?”
“Anywhere you’d like, Scully. Anywhere.”
Scully thinks wondering just where she would like to go.
“Does it have to be in America?”
“Nope.”
She smiles to herself, different locations flicking through her brain like TV channels. A whole country where nobody knows them. They don’t need to hide in apartments. They could go outside, touch each other, openly be in love.
“I’ll think about it, Mulder.”
“Just get back to me.”
…
The weekend arrives and their week of celibacy is over. Scully’s heating and hot water is fixed. Mulder’s kind of saddened by that, he liked having her in his apartment. He liked her coming home with him. They fell into a routine, one he could see them keeping if they do eventually move in together.
He stops himself for a moment. Moving in? That was the next step, wasn’t it? His chest tingles at the thought.
“Are you still joining me?”
Mulder grins, turning away from the mirror and pulling off the last of his clothes. He joins Scully in the shower. They behave themselves. They help each other wash and when the last bit of soap is rinsed from their bodies, Mulder takes her against the shower wall, the hot water spraying against his back, Scully’s lavender body soap assaulting his nostrils in all the best ways. He loves this little honeymoon period where each weekend he gets excited to see her, as if he hasn’t had the pleasure of her company all week. He tells himself he hasn’t seen her. He’s seen Agent Scully but on the weekend, he gets Dana.
They lay in her bed afterwards. Happy, warm, but a question is on his mind.
“What happens when we’re on assignment, Scully?”
“What do you mean?” she asks sleepily, rolling over so she can face him.
“At the motels and stuff. Over the weekend. Can we do this or is that Work Stuff?”
He watches her think it over, desperately wanting to say that it’s Us Stuff.
“I think…that’d be classed as Work Stuff, Mulder.”
“Oh…” So he would have to skip a weekend then. “So we can only do Us Stuff when we’re home?”
She nods. “It’s safer that way.” She kisses him gently. When she tries to pull away he chases her. In that case, he was going to make these weekend lasts forever.
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