She had turned 37 that year, and Mulder would be 40 by October.
Scully recalled a high school friend named Christian; he was the first person that told her all the great ones die at 27. Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Brian Jones, Pigpen McKernan…
She didn’t know why she was thinking about that tonight. She had just given birth, had just witness the beginning of a life, merely months after having Mulder coming back from the death, and there she was, thinking about death.
Scully didn’t believe she would be immortal, but if she were, she was never going to be apart from her two boys.
William. She had named their son William. After your father, she said, and Mulder grinned. She couldn’t make him call his own son Fox. It’d be a mockery of some sort, she was sure.
Scully couldn’t believe she and Mulder had made something so beautiful and precious. Her pregnancy had been hell, and the birth was another nightmare she had yet to process. But now she had both her babies in the same room, both sleeping peacefully, though she knew the little one would need to be fed in 2 hours, and the big one would fuss over them nonstop. All three of them needed to sleep, but here she was, thinking about all the great ones die at 27.
What a load of mumbo jumbo.
Scully closed her eyes and snuggled into Mulder, her forehead pressing against where his hearts lied underneath. She knew she was just scared, because in two days, they’d be going away, going into hiding—with their infant son.
There was no other way around it. If she and Mulder had ever agreed on anything, this was it. Neither of them could fathom a life without the other. It wouldn’t be life.
The journey took nearly 30 hours of driving, spanning across four days. Ohio, Illinois, Oklahoma, New Mexico. “Do babies get carsick?” Mulder asked.
“Ours doesn’t,” she answered, and he grinned like a proud papa.
The Hosteens received them warmly and all the women swooned over the baby. Scully was once again amazed at how well they were cared for and looked after. She wondered how she could ever repay them. She wasn’t sure why they thought this would be a good place to raise a family, but this was the first place that popped up in both their heads.
William grew up with Baby Fox as a nickname; he grew up with the Navajo children and had no idea he was any different. Scully couldn’t tell, either.
No one ever came to look for them. The Gunmen visited during the first winter. Her family came for the second summer. Bill hated Mulder, but what else was new?
Maybe that was what it was. If they could stay away from the darkness, the darkness would stay away from them.
Being stay-home Mom and Dad was fun for the first two years; there were a lot of things to do around the house. Like his daddy, William got into trouble all the time, keeping Scully’s hands full—especially after their second miracle came along.
“Must be the mysterious healing of the ancient worlds, Baby,” Mulder said while planting kisses on her stomach.
He followed her like a puppy for 34 weeks, which nearly drove her insane. At two years old, William seemed more independent than his daddy at times, and all the Navajo ladies made fun of that, too, but her husband never gave a damn.
Mulder started working with some people that took them in just because Albert had put in a good word for them over a decade ago. He began to help documenting the stories that were told to the children. Every once in a while, Scully would wonder if this was what life was really about, if this was what she wanted. A stay-home mom with two children under three plus Mulder, which was like having another child. But their life as FBI agents had been more than exciting—she had been to Antarctica and Africa, she had been kidnapped and aged, she had seen things that were stranger than fiction, and she once again thought about what Christian had told her when they were both 17. All the great ones…
Normal was nice. Normal was good. Normal was not having a doubt about seeing your son entering first grade, watching your daughter acting as a tree in a school play. Normal was packing picnic lunches and riding bicycle with your husband. Normal was watching Mulder build rockets with their babies in the backyard. Normal was braiding Katherine’s hair. Normal was seeing Mulder cried as he held their youngest in his arms.
Normal was fine. Normal was great. All the normal ones live for a long time. She wouldn’t mine living forever if she could take Mulder with her.
He snuggled up with her in bed one night, “Let me be the woman next life,” he said like a praying, “let me give you all the babies you want without any pain.”
“Maybe that’s the reason why I got to be the woman; I probably told you the exact same thing in our previous life— if there really are lives before and after.”
Mulder smiled as if he’d won; he did that a lot nowadays.
Years went by and Scully never looked back. Mulder now had grays in his hairs and laugh lines on his face. She knew he was happy; so was she. She sometimes wondered if there was another universe, where they did stay and kept going. She hoped to the stars that those other two were just as happy.
He always feels intoxicated when he’s with her. He knows, because he’s been drinking Arnold Palmer the whole night, but Mulder feels like he’s been putting away Long Island iced tea instead. And from the way she’s giggling at him, he bets that she’s feeling pretty much the same.
“Hit me with your best shot, Mulder,” she teases with a smile to die for. How that sentence rings true for him, she’s got a smile to die for, a face to die for, a body to die for, a mind to die for, and a soul to die for. He’ll die for her in a heartbeat, and haunt her like a ghost for the rest of her life, which, according to that insurance salesman who left her the little dog with a squirrel tail, is eternity. He isn’t so keen on being a ghost for eternity, but he’ll do it, for Scully.
Wait, she has just challenged him about something. “I’m sorry, Scully, what was that?”
“I said, hit me with your best shot, Mulder, what else do you got?”
Gosh, with those eyes, she can ask him for the moon and he’ll get into the training program to be an astronaut. Well, he won’t pass the test since he’s colorblind, so maybe he’ll have to look into that Chinese myth with the pill that makes you so light that it takes you to the moon, and…
Wait, that won’t get him the moon, that’ll just get him to the moon. So the plan would be taking the pill together so they could both go live on the moon…
“Mulder?”
Oh darn, he thinks, she’s starting to look worried now. Mulder frowns in response. He recalls just last week, she stared into the mirror and announced: I think I’m getting a wrinkle right here while pointing between her eyebrows. He never thought Scully would care about such a thing, but apparently, she does.
Mulder closes his eyes and shakes his head, “what do you wanna know, Baby?”
“It’s your turn.” She simply reminds him.
“Right, right. My turn.” He purposely puts his glass of Arnold Palmer out of reach on the side table. “I liked…that you could banter with the senior agent. I’ve never seen anyone done that before.”
“Never?” She looks surprised.
“Nope. Typically they just sat and looked nervous while I drove. And I usually had my ears plugged, so…”
She gives him one of those enigmatic smiles he’s been a fan of since day one. “Ha, I was just gonna say that I liked how you always wanted to hear what I think even when you know that I would debunk your theories with what I was about to say.”
“You’ve never debunked my theories, Scully,” he wags a finger at her and she reaches to grab it, “not all of ‘em, anyway.”
Mulder licks his lips and turns his hand so his hand is covering her fist. He lets his mind wonder off a little about how nice it is to just reach and touch her hand whenever he wants to now. Yeah, this is good. This is fantastic. This is wonderful.
“I liked how you came into my office and just looked at everything like you own the place. I liked how you took the time to look at my wall clippings and didn’t turn around to walk upstairs and request for a better assignment. I liked the way you shook my hand like you really were looking forward to work with me. Even when I called you a spy and practically told you that you’ll be giving up your weekend to investigate something you called fantastical… you were all dressed and ready to go with your laptop and your suitcase the next morning as if we were going camping.”
She looks amused and touched, her smirk not much different than the first time he’s ever seen it.
“You wanna know what else I liked about you from the start? You were nice. You were cute, and nice. As much as I tried to annoy you, as much as I ditched you and drove you crazy, you were never nasty to me. That’s such a—”
“Difference from the other partners you’ve had?” She guesses.
“No, such a difference from the women I typically found myself… being attracted to.” He states with a self-deprecating sneer.
“You needed to hang with better company.” Scully simply replies, for she’s never understood the need to be nasty to survive in life—and she’s survived some pretty unspeakable things in her life.
“I got the best company right here.” He rubs small circles on the back of her hand soothingly. Intoxicatedly.
Scully rewards him with a brilliant smile. “Anything else?”
“I liked your jacket, even though it was huge. I thought you were really adorable, and I wondered if I would ever tell you that. Have I ever told you that?”
She chews her lips and gives no reply.
“I think a part of me was planning that once you asked for a transfer, I’d ask you out.” His eyes suddenly turn shy. “But I like how it turned out.”
Mulder stares into her eyes in the blue light emitted by the fish tank. His fish tank and his girl, all his. “The one thing I didn’t like was how much I liked you, Scully.”
She scoffs, which does not surprise him. “I doubt that’s what the Fox Mulder would’ve said back then.”
“Ah,” he gasps and pulls her closer, “You wouldn’t have believed me back then, would you?”
“When… did you know?” She asks in a whisper, as if she’s not sure if she wants to know.
“I dunno. In the cemetery, maybe. When you turned and dove into my arms, maybe. Somewhere around that. Somewhere between that. Yeah.”
She smiles and approves his answer with a kiss; her eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks, her hands caressing his arm, her body snuggling into his embrace, and Mulder’s never felt more drunk in his life.
She’s always known that he’d be silly. Then again, he never, never ceases to amaze her at how silly he can be. Maybe Missy’s right, maybe men never grow up, and Mulder is like Superman in this regard.
They are just sitting in her apartment, feet up on her coffee table, one lonely slice of veggie lover’s pizza sitting on the opened cardboard box with some pieces of cinnamon bites and garlic knots, which will most likely be eaten around the time the movie gets slow. Both of them complain about the rental choices of the other, but typically it’s the renter of the video that grows bored first, and Mulder has rented the movie for tonight about a lawyer who cannot lie. Maybe they should have gone with the tribal-kid-goes-to-New-York movie instead.
Just when Jim Carrey begins his shenanigans on screen, Mulder lands his left hand on her right arm.
How funny that in bed, she typically gets the left side, but on couches, she sits on the right.
Scully half expects him to hold her hand, or to start rubbing her thigh. Mulder doesn’t care for Jim Carrey, and most likely he’s got something else in mind. A few times, well, actually almost all the times, he grabs one of her foot and pretends to massage it, when in reality he’s really tickling it. She always squeals and tries to protect both her feet under her thighs, and they end up making out on the couch no matter what’s on TV anyways.
Mulder passes her hand and makes a peace sign with two fingers, and slowly like a slug, the V formed by his index and middle finger makes contact with her wrist, and up it goes.
“The Itsy Bitsy Spider climbed up the water spout,” he sings in a breathy baritone and she pretends not to care. The tips of his fingers shuffle against her forearm.
“Down came the rain and washed the spider out,” now the two fingers are tapping lightly and bouncily on the inside of her elbow, and Scully reveals in mild surprise that he’s yet discovered a new giggling spot on her body.
“Out came the sun and dried up all the rain,” Mulder’s hand climbs higher, and the inside of his wrist rubs slow circles on the top of her arms, and his hand hops onto her shoulder.
“And the Itsy Bitsy Spider climbed up the spout again.”
Mulder wiggles his middle and index finger, and the joined tips of the remaining fingers peck her earlobe and linger along her jaw.
“That’s not a spider, Mulder.” Finally, she turns her head to meet his eyes.
“Yeah, it’s more like a bunny, but that’s like the only song I know.”
She looks at him for a moment as if he isn’t real, then grabs the bunny by its ear and plants a kiss on its nose. Mulder laughs like a big kid, free and without a care in the world. Maybe that’s what they’ve been attempting to do when they rent comedies for their movie nights—so that the both of them can laugh like there’s no tomorrow.
She hopes he’ll stay this silly even in his seventies.
“Not if you want to eat dinner by 6.” She hollers back.
“I can’t hear you baby!” He sings and she rolls her eyes with a faint smile.
“Yes, Mulder?” She walks in to the living room while drying her hands with a dish towel.
“Look at this,” he plays a short clip on his computer, showing a cat getting its nails filed.
“Hum, what am I looking at?” She asks.
“That’s us,” he smiles.
“Mulder, you did not just call me here to watch a cat video! I turned off the stove for this! The broccoli will be all mushy!” She slaps his head playfully with the dish towel and Mulder feigns being wounded by pressing both his hands on his heart.
“Hey Scully.”
She answers with an arched eyebrow.
“You’re cute when you are mad.” He beams. “Downright adorable when you pretend to be mad.”
“Oh, shut up, Mulder!”
She does not understand how, after all these years, he can still make her blush so easily.
“Hey, don’t deny it. Why do you think I like to get you mad so much?” Mulder pulls her closer and leans his head against her chest. “My girl is so cute.”
Scully covers his face with the dish towel and is about to return to the kitchen when he pulls her onto his lap.
“I’m not done yet,” Mulder secures her by crossing his arms on her stomach. “Watch this cat video with me.”
“I just…” She gives in and leans her back against his chest.
Mulder plays the video again; it’s a 17-second clip of a young, gray tabby cat letting its owner file the nails on its front paw. The video is in a loop, and they watch it three times before Scully speaks: “What am I watching?”
“You and me.” He rubs his cheek against hers and kisses her jawline.
“Hmm?”
“I’m the cat, and I trust you, my human, utterly and completely.”
“Oh yeah?” Scully smiles and enjoys his ministrations.
“I can purr too. Wanna hear?” He whispers and she nods.
He purrs and she turns to face him. To hell with dinner.
She pats his back, “Mulder, it’s not a punishment. Kosseff says it’s an exercise. It’s just. an. exercise.”
He moans in frustration. Kosseff has never liked him, he knows. Kosseff thinks he and Scully are never truly honest with her, Kosseff knows about his psychology background. Kosseff thinks they are codependent.
Of course, it doesn’t help that every time they have a talk, it’s an aftermath of something terrible, an order that the two agents have do follow, something they must do in order to get their next paycheck, and that pisses him off even more.
Which is why Mulder thinks this assignment is utterly ridiculous.
“Awholebook, Scully!” He says in between a whine and a wail in desperation, “I’m freaking thirty-eight years old!”
Scully lets out a long sigh. She’s not a fan of these mandatory talks either, and she’s not a fan when people want to talk about her feelings and emotions, especially when the person is not exactly a friend and the emotion is anger.
Only if Mulder had kept his anger in check and not stumped the blue recycle bin in Kersh’s office as if it was on fire. True, plastic makes less noises, but it’s also harder to break, so Mulder’s tantrum becomes a spectacle for all, which lands him in Kosseff’s office, where he gets the absurd assignment.
Assignment, my ass.
“I don’t even have color pencils, Scully!” He says defeatedly. “Do kids still use crayons these days?”
Scully looks at him sympathetically, and for lunch that day, she picks up a box of 24 ct color pencils and some mint chocolate chip ice cream for him.
Mulder does not want to touch his coloring book at all. Kosseff didn’t give him a due date, and he’s pretty sure he can get away with not showing up for the second session. He stares at the coloring book with pages after pages of grayish coarse paper, adorned with cartoon characters he’s never seen before, and frowns.
He knows Scully expects him to be a grown up and do this.
The first night he opens the coloring book, Mulder realizes that he hasn’t work in front of his desk for years. He’s hardly ever written anything with a pen anymore. Everything is done with the computer nowadays, although he’s putting up a good fight to stick with his slides…
He calls Scully and they end up chatting about nothing really, like they tend to do nowadays. His desk is now organized and impeccable for the first time in 20 years.
On the following night, Mulder tells himself that he must color one full page before calling her.
He caves after the first color pencil breaks. Certain that he doesn’t have a pencil sharpener, he calls Scully.
On the next day, Scully unplugs the electric pencil sharpener in the office and bags it in a paper sack.
“Scully!” He feigns horror and shock on his face, “that’s’ stealing!”
They go out for lunch that day and she brings him to the drug store where she got his coloring pencils. They purchase a manual pencil sharpener andeat strawberry soft serve. The sweetness of the cream makes him want to kiss her silly.
That night, Mulder sits crossed-legged on the floor of his living room, with his back against the couch, his coffee table all cleared, and begins coloring.
He does a sloppy job, doesn’t stay in the lines at all, and finishes the page in 10 minutes. Feeling triumphant, he phones Scully while beginning on the second page. “Hey! I did one!”
“Good boy.” He hears her turning down the stereo as well as turning up the corners of her mouth. “What was it?”
“Some cats. At first I thought it was Tom and Jerry, but I don’t remember there was a girl cat.”
“A girl cat?” She repeats.
“Yes, a plushy looking one with a bow on her head. I’m sure I colored it all wrong.”
“How many cats are on the page?”
“Five. I colored two of them gray, and two of them, um, orange.”
“What about the last one?”
“It’s white. It’s a white cat.”
“And how do you feel?” Suddenly, Scully switches into her doctor mode.
“Not bad. If I don’t think about having to color the remaining 23 pages, I think I’m okay.”
“You’ll be fine, Mulder.” She hangs up, and he tosses his phone aside to color a mermaid and a talking lobster.
A week goes by, and another week goes by. On nights he spends away from Scully, he colors. Finally, he’s done.
He drives the empty streets to Georgetown. He knocks and she opens the door in her cotton pjs.
“Hey baby.” He coos while moving closer to steal a kiss from her.
“Mulder, are you drunk?” She does not hide the mischievousness in her voice.
“Nope, not at all.” He hauls her into the apartment, “I got something for ya.”
With both hands, he presents his work of labor as if she was the Queen and he’s the humble servant.
Scully picks up the coloring book and opens the pages. After the first two pages, she begins to turn the pages slowly, admiring each picture, each contrast of colors. The lion with green mane, the princess in a gray dress. Blue Dalmatians and maroon alien creature. Purple jungle boy and Alice in a red.
“Wow.” She looks up at him with a brilliant smile.
“I know.” He says with equal amazement in his eyes. “It’s for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes. I was thinking about you the whole time while I colored. I didn’t do this for Kosseff. I did it for you. Of course, I bet all the colors are…not really matching, but at least I stayed inside the line for the most part—”
“So, is this normal?” She asks. Her eyes are wide and he feels a little nervous.
“You’re making this sound like a doctor’s visit, Scully.” He wants to find some refuge in humor. “Is this normal? Should I worry about it? What’s normal, really?”
She looks down at the little piece of metal he has just placed in her hand, and traces the edge of the key with her thumb. He looks so embarrassed; it’s almost awkward.
“Just in case you found out you need to, um, feed my fish. Or that I’m dying from an infection and you need to save me from turning into, I dunno, the wild man.”
“The wild man.” She repeats.
“I don’t really wanna live in a forest in New Jersey.” He points at the area where his wounds should be healing up nicely. “It’s a little far from… everything.”
“Right. If you live in New Jersey…” she mutters and Mulder wonders if her cheeks were always so pink.
“If I live in New Jersey what?” He teases.
She doesn’t reply, and it seems to him that her cheeks have become even redder now.
“Scully?” He purposely drags out the last syllable of her name. She reaches into her pocket and digs out her keys; Mulder quickly grabs them from her hand and begins to hook his key onto her keychain.
“I should’ve marked it.” He mutters while wondering which other keys she has and what doors do they open. There’s the key to the entrance of her apartment building, a small bronze one for her mailbox, a silver one for her front door, a large one for her car, one that’s for their office, and Mulder’s suddenly glad that his apartment uses a keypad instead of a latchkey on the door into the lobby.
“Thank you.” She says when he hands her keys back to her.
“Scully,” suddenly he’s all nervous again, “you don’t need to give me a copy of your keys, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’ve never…”
Mulder licks his lips nervously. He realizes that he almost lied and quickly stops. He hates lying to her.
“I have a friend that feeds my fish when I’m away. He’s the only other person whom I’ve given my keys to. Well, him and you. So, in case you ever want to, um, swipe an educational video or an entertainment magazine from my place, you can pin it on him; I’ll never know it was you.”
That gets a chuckle out of her, and somehow Mulder feels his cheeks burning too. He feels like he’s wearing his heart on his sleeves for everyone to see, just because he has given a girl a key to his apartment.
A girl. Someone whom he just told his friends merely months ago that were sent to spy on him. Now he’s giving her his key? Mulder feels a little confused, but he thinks he’s doing the right thing, even though it’s something he’s never done before. Hey, trust no one, but here’s my key.
Three days later, Mulder receives a key from her, newly cut and freshly marked with pretty cursive that reads Scully.
“With handwriting like this, you’ll never make it as a doctor, Scully.” He says and earns himself another smile. He’s gotten a key back, and he feels silly and young; he quickly secures the newest addition onto his keychain. The silver key shines and he feels like trust is suddenly touchable.
Scully doesn’t say anything and moves onto reading their newest assignment. He feels like he’s been marked like the key she has just given him.
She had laughed out loud the first time she saw it.
It was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. The whole thing made her want to cry, because she thought of Missy. How Missy would stare at the scene with disbelief in her eyes and with cringe written all over her face.
Her sister would cry abomination. She would claim that they have broken the cat. Broken to the point beyond repair. Broken! she would curse aloud with all the bad names she knew and throw a dirty look at anyone who asked her to calm down.
She could almost hear it. Mom! The fifteen-year-old Missy would scream, Dana and her boyfriend broke the cat! Mom! Do somethin’!
Missy was the mellowest one of all the Scully siblings. It took a lot to get her mad, and this would certainly done it for sure.
Mulder had trained their cat to shake hands.
Sherlock was a tiny calico they had found in a park. Sherlock practically grew up on Mulder’s palm. Sherlock was his cat baby, the one who he had nursed back to health with the help of his children. He fed her milk and kept her warm in the fleece beanie William was wearing as they couldn’t find something soft enough by Mulder’s standard. Mulder was so doting toward the kitten that Scully worried their children would grow jealous of the furry monster.
And he raised his kitten like a dog. With Mulder’s patience and Sherlock’s trust in her daddy, the cat knew to come, sit, andmeow on demand. But it was really something when he taught the cat to shake hands.
“What’s next, Mulder,” Scully asked, “roll over and play dead?”
“Nah,” he grabbed her left arm and held it like a cat, “too morbid. I didn’t save this one from death so she could play dead.”
Scully looked at him tenderly as he petted her hand like it was the head of a cat.
“Maybe something a little more functional. She’s a bit too small to bring me the mail or open the fridge.”
Mulder had never taught their three dogs any tricks. She didn’t know why he had tried with their first cat; she almost wanted to keep an observation journal for she was so fascinated with it. Itbeing Mulder the husband, not Sherlock the cat.
“You know what’s the best thing I like about Sherlock?” He began, “Besides naming her Sherlock, of course.”
Scully turned her arm around so she was cradling his arm instead, and his other arm reached over to roam slowly on her thigh. She smiled, “Enlightened me, Cat Daddy.”
“She has the cutest little feet only second to yours.”
Scully gave him a fake glare.
“You know I love tiny feet. Yours and hers both. I thought your feet were so capable, the way—”
She smacked his arm unexpectedly, “If your sentence ends with ‘reach the break’, Mulder…” She did not finish her warning, knowing it was more effective that way.
“They’re delicate with all their piggys. I love it when you paint them pink. It’s so cute.”
She rolled her eyes for show.
“And it gets you so angry so easily. You got a thing for your feet, Scully, you’ve always had. But I have nothing but fondness over it. My feet look like they belong to an alligator when they’re placed next to yours. Alligator feet.”
She scoffed lightly and her hand reached up to caress his jaw.
“You know the best thing I like about Sherlock?” Scully began like he did just a moment ago, “that you raised her like a dog, and that she… I mean, Mulder, you taught a cat to shake hands! What’s next? I’ve never seen a cat do that.”
“Says the Master,” Mulder muttered, and cleared his throat: “you taught a Fox to love. I’ve never seen myself do that.”
Scully let her small smile grow into a beaming one. After thirty-five years, he could still say just the right thing to make her swoon.
“And I can shake hands, too, Master.” Mulder held out his hand with a goofy yet devoted look on his face, and she moved her lips to cover his grinning ones.
But he doesn’t care. After all, he is named Fox Mulder, and growing up with that name has shielded him from that particular type of harm.
“Is that what you got from your babysitting job, Mulder?” Langly laughs.
Mulder shoots him a dirty look. “Jealousy andenvy, Virgin Boy?” He flaunts with an air of pride, “and it’s not babysittingwhen it’s your kid.”
Mulder pretends he doesn’t see the grins that appear on his friends’ faces. “And if you three play nice, I bet you’ll get one too.”
He’s talking about the bracelet, not the kid. Emily’s recently gotten the Beady Bunch 2000 from a carnival raffle, and she’s been busy making bracelets for all her favorite people. The first one Emily made says Scully and it’s for Mommy. The second bracelet is for Mulder; it also says Scully in neon green lettersand has two stars.
“Emmi, do you need help spelling my name?” Mulder whispers. He doesn’t know Emily already knows how to spell M-U-L-D-E-R; she’s learned it months ago.
“No,” the child answers loudly, her little fingers sorting the beads into a big plastic box with compartments. “I can spell Mulder, Mulder.”
“Then why does my bracelet say Scully?”
“Don’t you like it?” Emily responds mischievously, reminding Mulder of something Sam did so long ago; his little sister in two braids singing in glee: …and fox sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!
“Sure I like it,” he quickly replies, “if I got Scully, how come Mommy didn’t get Mulder?”
“Mommy doesn’t need to get Mulder.”
Mulder contemplates too much and too seriously on the child’s response.
He soon discovers that he loves to have a Scully bracelet; it wouldn’t be the same if he had gotten a Mulder bracelet. It would be silly to wear a Mulder bracelet on his wrist. He feels so proud wearing a Scully bracelet. It’s a seal of approval. It’s his medal of honor. He wears it the moment Emily presented to him, he studies the difference between his bracelet and Scully’s, he even wears it to bed that night, and Scully makes fun of him until he distracts her with his kisses.
He wears it to the market on the following day, wears it to the Gunmen to discuss important issues while eating pizza, and wears it to work when the weekend’s over.
“Are you sure…” Scully begins and he shoots her a glance that meant end of discussion.
Mulder wears his bracelet to two budget meetings, and Scully has to bite the inside of her cheek when Skinner’s eyebrows shoot up as his sight lingers on Mulder’s wrist. She quickly reaches over and tucks the bracelet into his sleeve. After all, it does says Scully on it.
Emily is more than thrilled to see Mulder wearing the bracelet she gave him, but after a little talk with Mommy, she approaches the tall man after dinner.
“Mulder, I’m glad you like my bracelet.” Emily says diplomatically.
“Oh yeah, Baby Banana. I love it.” He smiles at the child, “are you upset that Mommy doesn’t wear her bracelet?”
“No, Mommy’s is for her keys. She’s not supposed to wear hers. When I was making it, Mommy said she used to make friendship bracelets when she was little. So I decided to make one for you. But I think I’ll make you another one so your friends won’t make fun of you.”
“Honey, I don’t care if people make fun of me.” Mulder picks Emily up and puts her on his lap. “People can make fun of a lot of things.”
“Do you cry after?” She asks in her little voice.
“No.” Mulder displays the skill he’s mastered at the age of 8. “I don’t cry about silly things like that.”
“Mulder,” Emily touches his bracelet, “I’ll make you a new one from this one; I’ll make it extra better.”
“Thanks, Foxi.” He drops a kiss on top of the child’s head and off she goes.
The next morning, Mulder gets one that saysMulder and Emily hooks it onto his keys. He misses the Scully one, but he knows it’s probably for the best.
Three days later, he discovers his little girl has finally gotten around to make one for herself. It says MOMMY + MULDER in banana yellow letters.
And Mulder tells himself that he doesn’t cry about silly things like that.
It’s all about her, allabout her. Mulder will accidentally make it about him again, God bless his insecurities, but she loves him despite his insecurities, so, the best way is to never tell him.
She never wants to get married.
When she was in high school, she thought meeting someone, falling in love, getting married, and having children was the normal life, and she wanted to be normal. Who doesn’t want to be normal in high school? Anything not normal gets picked on relentlessly, even when it’s something positive like being good at math or having red hair.
In college, she still dreamed of having a family in addition to being a career woman. But when she was in med school, she wasn’t so sure anymore. There was a man she idolized, and he seemed so capable and intelligent, yet he was willing to leave his wife and daughter to pursue something with her.
At 23, 24 years old, that simply blew her mind. How strong and weak love could be.
Her parents loved each other so much, despite most of their time were spent apart. Ahab was always away, and mom filled her life with children and church and volunteering.
Maybe that was when the whole idea started to seem… repulsive. Daniel must have loved the mother of his child, but he was ready to throw it all away for love. How foolish. How insane. How ugly.
Jack wanted to marry her, too, even they had only dated for about a year. Ellen couldn’t understand—but she got married at 20 and had her first kid at 21. Missy also couldn’t understand, either—I thought you wanted kids, she said.
Mom didn’t understand. Bill didn’t understand. And Mulder didn’t understand.
Mulder. He keeps asking, and she keeps not saying yes.
She’s amazed about his persistence, really. His proposals are out of the blue and always genuine, and she hates not being able to say yes. It’s strange, really, that she knows she wants to spend the rest of her life with Mulder, she knows she cannot imagine anyone but Mulder as the father of her miracle babies, and she knows that they’ll always be together. But getting a piece of paper that says so, wearing a piece of jewelry on her fingers that announces so just isn’t how she wants it.
Everyone in her world knows about her and Mulder. No ring or paper needed. Yet he wants to make it official, Bill does, Mom does, and if Missy was alive, she’d plan the wedding for her, which would most likely end up with her wearing flowers in her hair and Mulder wearing something ridiculous like a kilt just because he’s got pretty legs.
Mulder does have pretty legs, and Missy was crazy like that.
Sometimes, the thought of spending the rest of her life with Mulder is overwhelming.
It’s Mulder. It’s the man she loves more than life itself. It’s the man who drops everything to go to the end of the world for her. It’s the man who thinks of her as the only thing that matters. Her Mulder.
But it’s also the man who believes in unicorn and leprechauns, a brainiac who can’t tip right, who drags her to haunted houses and into restricted areas. His mind is filled with wacky theories that include witches and vampires and Bigfoot and aliens. He always mixes work and pleasure, never plays by the rules, and spends 5 percent of his brilliant mind on innuendoes and dirty jokes.
She knows that she’s been married long before the ceremony, long before the missing presence of a ring on her finger, and long before her two miracle babies and three dogs and a house in the suburbs. Mulder’s never doubted how this will end, just like how he’s never doubted the fact that she’s immortal, and occasionally frets on Sunday mornings with how can I obtain immortality too?
Immortality doesn’t sound too bad if she’ll always have Mulder, Scully thinks while holding his hand at the line for the movie.
“That’ll be one adult and, uh,” Mulder says to the kid behind the ticket counter.
“Two adults, please.” She hears herself saying. She’ll have to listen to this joke for the rest of her life.
“There goes the churro money.” Mulder pouts and mutters in a low voice. “Back in my days…”
She wants to say Shut up, Mulder, but moves closer and laughs into his bicep instead.
He had noticed the big Ferris wheel on the first day. And he thought as a reward for solving a non-X-File, he’d take Scully to the amusement park.
No scary rides, she warned, to which he replied, I’ll let you hold my hand.
Mulder had assumed that she wasn’t afraid of heights, though he recalled the several times she had broken into a cold sweat on airplanes during the first year of their partnership. He had written that off as a fear of flying.
Somehow that’d gone away after she was return. Scully never seemed to be edgy on planes anymore, she could even read a case file or take a nap, and he pretended not to notice this new thing her.
They still couldn’t talk about that. Her being taken, her being returned. Not at all. Mulder didn’t think they ever would, no matter how close they’d become in the future.
He could let her have that piece of her all to herself; he knew that he had a few demons he had to keep in his closets. Demons he wished Scully would never meet.
So, there they were, standing in line for the Ferris wheel. The wait wasn’t going to be long, Mulder estimated, though the ride seemed like it’d be a good ten minutes or so.
Mulder felt like it was a lifetime ago that he last visited an amusement park. He threw up after the tea cup, and sat pale and sickly as his cousins Barry and Ira gave him ice water and wet paper towels with worried expressions on their chubby faces. All three of them were under ten. Samantha was nowhere in sight.
For such a large Ferris wheel, their cart, a light blue one with nice big windows, was surprisingly cozy. The young man that took their tickets eyed both him and Scully from head to toe, as they were in their workday’s best, they stuck out like sore thumbs amongst the halter tops and cargo pants wore by all the others.
Nice one, the young man muttered to him, he was sure, though Mulder couldn’t be sure if the man had meant that as a compliment paid to him for having a companion as pretty as Scully, or just a simple good wish for a fun ride.
The cart was small as is, and it rocked back and forth slightly, which rattled Mulder a bit. He did not recall Ferris wheels to move like that. Once it started ascending, it began to settle, and he let out a sigh, suddenly feeling relieved.
“This is not a scary ride.” He added, feeling a little embarrassed.
“When was the last time you rode one of these?” Scully asks; her eyes were focused on him.
“Hmmm…” Mulder tried to remember. Cable carts? Sky? He was alone. Why would he be alone? He had slipped and almost died.
Scully chuckled. “That long, huh?”
An urge overcame him unexpectedly, and as a reflex, Mulder reached over to grab her hand.
“Mulder?” Her voice was now without mirth.
“I, I just remembered wrong.” He smiled weakly and squeezed her hand to show that he’s fine. “Instead of my last Ferris wheel ride, my mind had conjured up me being outside of a… sky tram.”
“What were you doing outside of a sky tram?” She smiled at him, eyes full of amusement. “Another Chapter in the Adventure of Fox Mulder.”
Mulder quickly weighted whether to tell her about this particular adventure. Scully never knew about him going up to Skyland with Krycek, never knew he had almost broken the tram by speeding it up as if it were an amusement park ride, never knew he almost got smashed into a tower, never knew he was so, so, so close to…
“It was on…” he began, but couldn’t finished: “it wasn’t important. I had many nightmares from that adventure.”
They sat in silence as the Ferris wheel carried them higher and higher. Mulder felt a peaceful serenity, most likely because the view was breathtaking, most likely because they had nowhere to go until their flight home at noon tomorrow, most likely because Scully was with him. He looked down and saw that her hand was still in his. The Ferris wheel must be a scary ride, he figured.
Mulder wondered how deep their nonverbal communication were. Deep, as deep as the sky, maybe. She must have read it, must have known, or else she wouldn’t be holding onto his hand so tight that her fingers were beginning to leave indention marks on the back of his hand.
“I think I very well could’ve died up there,” he muttered.
“Thanks.” Scully said, and he knew that she had figured it out. She never needed to thank him, never; Mulder wanted to know the best way to tell her that.
“Good thing I didn’t, huh? Or else you’d have no partner to return to when you came back.” He tried to change the tone; they’re in an amusement park, for God’s sake, they should be happy and merry and eating candied apples and funnel cakes and riding some silly and non-vomit-inducing rides next, like the bumper cars.
“Well, in that case, I might not come back at all.” She said it with every ounce of seriousness she had, and it was his turn to look at her in awe.
“Scully…” Mulder’s voice trailed off. It took courage for him to speak again: “How far can you see? Can you see the ocean?”
He turned around to see what she was seeing; his brain reminded him that they were still holding hands like little kids on a scary roller coaster ride.
“Far, Mulder,” She said softly yet resolutely. “Real far.”
She can’t believe they are doing this. Everything is happening so fast and she doesn’t know when did her joking respond turned into realty.
She doesn’t do things like this. Mulder does, though to give him some credit, he hasn’t pull something off like this for nearly a year. And at least this time she’s with him, and that should count for something, shouldn’t it?
Dana Scully doesn’t do well when nothing is planned. And Mulder’s words of don’t worry baby certainly doesn’t ease her worry, especially not when he’s singing it like he’s the sixth member of the Beach Boys while throwing her that moronic yet endearing look. Overly confident but not without a hint of reserve, he’s her favorite enigma.
“D-don’t we need to stop by your place?” Scully stutters a little and she thinks she’s allowed that.
“I can buy everything I need there; I only need to have you.” He flashes her an honest-to-God smile. “I feel like the only thing I need from my apartment is my toothbrush.”
“You can buy a toothbrush too.” She adds. “The hotel usually has them, however crappy and hard they come.”
“Scully,” he chuckles, “how do you know where we’re going even has a hotel?”
She looks at him as if all the energy has been drained from her hands and feet. The pure look of fear. “Mulder, if this turns out to be a case…”
Her warning tone doesn’t rattle him one bit. He looks as if she’s onto something, and soon, too soon, those plump and sexy lips disappear into a thin line, and Mulder knows he’s gone too far. “Just kidding. Relax. We’re staying at a hotel, I guess I can tell you that much. Langly booked the classiest one he could get his hands on.”
“Langly did the booking?” She asks with an arched eyebrow.
“Yep.” Mulder nods; he decides not to tell her why Langly owes him such a big favor that he has to heck into an airline database and a hotel system on such a short notice.
But they do stop by at Mulder’s place for a short moment, just to feed the fish and grab a few changes of clothes.
“Think they’ll have sunflower seeds?” He asks, and quickly laughs merrily: “Silly me, how would you know, you have no idea where we’re going.”
Scully pretends to throw him an annoyed look. She’s trying to enjoy this from the get-go, and if she keeps reminding herself, she can actually do it. Not knowing where they’re going, not knowing how many days, not knowing anything besides the fact that she’ll be spending some time off with Mulder. She does trust him, and if this is not the ultimate test of trust, what is?
Not knowing where, not knowing what, not knowing anything, just time. With Mulder. The man who believes in UFO parties and haunted houses and unicorns and sea monsters.
Oh boy.
“C’mon Scully, let’s get moving. I don’t want that plane to take off without us on it. Chop chop.” Mulder slaps his hand on his thighs while she’s still saying goodbye to the fish.
In and out of his place in less than 10 minutes. Their departure time is in an hour. Guess we’re really gonna do this, she muses.
Mulder tosses his bag in the backseat and smiles at her. Scully’s always amazed at how few things some men like Mulder can get by without some necessities—a feat neither of her brothers possesses. Mulder’s equally impressed at how quickly Scully can go at a drop of a hat; must be that Navy upbringing and her drive of always wanting to be prepared.
“Let’s get the show on the road, Baby.” He says and she swats his nose with her index finger. Mulder hopes she’ll keep doing that for the whole vacation.
He knows he’ll need to call Frohike about feeding the fish. The old man would snicker and reply, why don’t I just adopt them already?
Frohike’s really been a good sport about the whole thing. Mulder had expected jealousy, anger, resentment… But the old boy is really rooting for them with all his might.
It’s good to have friends and so good to have Scully. His best friend and lover. How did he get so damned lucky? He hasn’t ever looked forward to having a vacation since…forever.
It’s hard to get her to board the plane without seeing the destination, but he does it. Langly has suggested first class, but Mulder opts for privacy over the extra leg room and dining experience. They have a row to themselves without any seat neighbors, and he finds himself feeding Scully from airplane peanuts to dinner rolls to those mashed potatoes in a creamy mushroom sauce. Their little monitors have all been shut off, so Scully cannot see the flight map, and Mulder spends the majority of the seven-hour plane ride telling her remakes of mythologies from the Eastern Hemisphere.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” She says softly in his ear. “Tell me about the story of the huge golden ship again.”
He does. It does not surprise him that Scully likes the story about a ship on a great voyage.
They both fall asleep somewhere above the Atlantic, dreaming of nothing but each other.
Mulder wakes and turns on the monitor, hoping Scully will stay in slumber for a little longer. They are very close to their destination, and he feels so excited, like he was nine years old and visiting his Aunt Shirley in Louisiana for the first time.
“Hey Baby,” he mutters as Scully begins to wake up. The pilot must have turned on that magic to wake all the passenger up as he’s about to land. She moves to slide up the blind of the window to peek at the sky.
“Gosh Mulder,” I can’t believe we’re doing this…” She turns and sees that he’s right behind her, looking out the window as the plane descend.
He just whispers lowly into her ear, “Welcome to first our vacation, baby.”
Summary: Fury sends you back in time on a mission. How will you handle seeing Steve and Bucky in the 40s?
Word Count: 4717
Warnings: nothing big, some angst, strong language, time travel
a/n: I don’t really know what this is, but it’s happened. It’s pretty Bucky x reader heavy, but technically a Stucky x reader fic. Pls ignore any typos, I hand wrote this and then transferred it and it was a mess. Apple’s new feature of copying text from a photo is not the most accurate (at least for handwritten stuff)
“What’s the mission?” you questioned Maria while jogging slightly to keep up with her. “And why me?”’
“Fury’s orders,” she answered in her familiar no nonsense tone. She handed you a file folder, briefly describing the mission as she lead you to Fury. “You need to retrieve a file.“
You furrowed your brow as you read through the file. “From the U.S. Army? I thought Fury on good terms with the government. Why not just ask for the file?”
Summary: Steve has a secret… until suddenly he doesn’t. Steve x Single Mom!Reader
Warnings: canon typical violence, probably some cursing
Word Count: 4349
a/n: I really fell in love with this idea. I think I dreamt it, but honestly I’m not sure. You can visualize Lily anyway you’d like, I just chose this picture bc it’s cute.
“Ninety-nine, One hundred.” Lily jumped out of the closet, ready to follow your instructions. She checked the phone, just like you said, but it was broken in the fight.
Instead, she packed her backpack with anything she thought she could need in an emergency and left.
She walked confidently through your apartment door, down the stairs, and to the subway stop. Maybe it was this confidence that lead the adults surrounding her to leave her be, or maybe it was just the fact she was in New York City and passerby couldn’t be bothered.
Warnings: criminal minds level violence, mention of past teacher/student relationship
word count: ~1800
When you open your eyes, you are struck by how dark it is. After you moved to DC, it took a while for you to grow accustomed to not having complete darkness. Even in your apartment at night, light still filters in through the curtains.
“Our unsub could definitely be a woman. I mean, mad woman, the Man? Those are some pretty obvious clues.” Emily threw the idea out as soon as Reid was done listing titles.
Things continued on like that for the next few months. You and Spencer would go on dates whenever he wasn’t on a case. When he was away, you would call each other every night you could. To say you were happier than you’ve ever been would be an understatement.
Chapter 8 of In Breakable Heaven! Two chapters in a day because I was on a roll! :)
Summary: A little friendly competition between our secret couple.
Warnings: implied smut
Word count: ~2600
How did I get myself into this mess? You kept thinking the same thought over and over again. A few days ago, Morgan got you’re competitive side to flare up and now you are royally screwed. The team wanted to unwind after the case that so rudely interrupted you and Spencer’s date, but Spencer just wanted to see you. They still don’t know about your relationship though. You’ve actually got a bet going on who will figure it out first, but that’s beside the point. The two of you constructed a plan to get Penelope to invite you along with her to the teams bar outing. If you had known it would lead you here, maybe you would have just met Spencer at his apartment afterwards.
Summary: Steve has a secret… until suddenly he doesn’t. Steve x Single Mom!Reader
Warnings: canon typical violence, probably some cursing
Word Count: 4349
a/n: I really fell in love with this idea. I think I dreamt it, but honestly I’m not sure. You can visualize Lily anyway you’d like, I just chose this picture bc it’s cute.
“Ninety-nine, One hundred.” Lily jumped out of the closet, ready to follow your instructions. She checked the phone, just like you said, but it was broken in the fight.
Instead, she packed her backpack with anything she thought she could need in an emergency and left.
She walked confidently through your apartment door, down the stairs, and to the subway stop. Maybe it was this confidence that lead the adults surrounding her to leave her be, or maybe it was just the fact she was in New York City and passerby couldn’t be bothered.
“There’s something I haven’t been completely honest about.” You blurted out taking a break from cleaning. It had been a few months since Halloween, and you and Spencer have hung out whenever possible, but never calling anything a date. You had both gotten pretty busy with the holidays, but still made time. He is basically your best friend, but you want more than that. You just aren’t sure he feels the same way.
Spencer turned from where he was reading on the couch immediately mirroring the nervous expression he could see on your face. “What is it? You know you can tell me anything. That’s what friends are for.” Ugh, friends. This is so confusing. As he walked up to you, you thought you noticed a glimmer of hope in his eyes, but you brush it off. You need to focus.
You woke up slowly, not realizing you were on the couch with another human. As usual, you tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but instead of landing on the other side of your bed you land squarely on the floor between your couch and coffee table. Spencer shifted on the couch to look down at you as the two of you burst into laughter.
“Ooh, since you’re dressed as a singer, you have to go first in karaoke. We can’t start until everyone is here though. Penelope’s rules.” Emily declares.
